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the12thnightproject · 1 year ago

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Chapter 50: Radiance -While waiting for the next wormhole, Shingen and Katsuko enjoy domestic fluff, birthday cake, and snowboarding… but an old video leads to an unsettling discovery.

Shingen x OC; Kenshin x MC (Mai)

Previous Chapter: Here

Logline - Disguised as a boy, Katsuko finds herself working for Shingen, but her dangerous masquerade becomes difficult to sustain when she falls for the man with a fatal secret.

With ten weeks until the next wormhole opened, modern Japan ended up being kind of a vacation for Shingen and I. Rather than join Sasuke in Kyoto, we elected to stay in Nagano since it was more or less home turf for both of us. Thanks to Aki’s generosity (I considered it an employee bonus and figured I had earned every penny – especially since he hadn’t ever paid me an actual salary), I had more than enough money to rent a decent furnished apartment for a few months.

Before the winter kicked in, we rented a motorcycle several times and toured through the countryside, riding down to the Yamanashi Prefecture, formerly Kai. After some discussion, we elected not to visit the Tsutsujigasaki historic site – it would be too strange and jarring. “When we go to Tsutusjigasaki Castle,” he told me, “it will be as it was, so I can introduce you to its people.”

In return, I showed him all of my old kid haunts – not that there were that many – and my favorite places to hike and climb. And of course, Shingen being Shingen, we created our own tour of Teahouses and bakeries around the city.

Sasuke came up from Kyoto every other week, mostly to hang out, but also to report what was going on with the wormhole and his investigation into the mystery of Aki. The latter was unfortunately stalled due to his parents having taken a sabbatical trip through China – they’d rented their house out to a businessman from India.

On my own, I was doing similar research on my old mentor, but to no one’s surprise, he kept an extremely low internet footprint. Nothing like putting your primary residence 450 years in the past to help you stay off the grid. Similarly, though I haunted the library and archive sites, I was unable to find a lead on “Hikosane.” If he had done something important during his lifetime, it wasn’t in the historical record.

The first weekend in December, Sasuke came up and took Shingen out for a man-bonding afternoon. That was how Sasuke described it. I described it as “get him out of the house so I can bake him a birthday cake.” The birthday meal itself, I would trust to delivery, but I wanted to at least make him something sweet.

Cooking and baking were not activities I had done a much of after my mother died, but prior to that, I’d been the primary cook, not just for meals but also desserts. I had gone through a phase where I baked the most decadent things I could find, hoping to tempt her to – Ah… maybe that was why I wasn’t a huge fan of sweets now? I jotted that down in a notebook my therapist was having me keep. I had decided to see a therapist for my claustrophobia and nightmares. They were never as bad when I was with Shingen, but I felt it wasn’t his job to deal with my mental health – I needed to take responsibility for that. Obviously, there wasn’t a lot I could accomplish before we headed back through the wormhole in the Spring (I told my therapist I was moving to Vancouver) but I hoped to at least have the tools I needed to keep moving forward.

I checked the temperature of the cake layers that were cooling on wire racks. Online, I’d found what looked like (per the number of stars the recipe had) an extremely decadent recipe for chocolate and strawberry cake. While I might never win any cake decorating contests, I was confident the cake would at least taste good. Just as I finished mixing up the buttercream frosting, Shingen and Sasuke came through the door, stomping snow off their boots.

“Sorry to bring him back early – the snow’s getting fairly deep.” Sasuke hates driving in snow. For that matter, Shingen’s not terribly fond of being a passenger when Sasuke is driving, so I ought to have expected an early return.

“No worries.” I’d been listening to the weather reports. Deep snow tonight meant this weekend I could finally take them snowboarding – an excursion that we’d planned for as soon as the weather cooperated.

“What’s all this?” Shingen eyed the cake and the bowl of frosting with the intent interest of a sugar fiend who’d been held hostage in a health spa for a decade. “If it tastes as good as it smells, then I’d say we’ve gotten back right on time.”

“I hope that wasn’t supposed to be a surprise.” Sasuke headed to the coffee machine that we kept out just for him, as neither Shingen nor I had ever developed a taste for it (though Shingen did have a fondness for those fancy caramel mocha lattes they sold at the chain coffee shop – go figure).

“No, it was to prevent… that.” Shingen had grabbed the bowl of frosting and a spoon. I took the bowl away. “That goes on the cake,” I said. He gave me an adorable little boy frown. I leaned closer and said to him quietly. “If there’s any leftover after that, we can have it later… I’ll take the role of the cake.”

Shingen had been stealthily reaching the spoon for a raid on the frosting, but upon hearing that hastily aborted the mission. I ran my finger along the edge of the bowl, scooping up a small amount of frosting on it, and held it out to him. “Will this hold you for a while?”

He sucked my finger into his mouth and licked away the frosting. “For dessert, yes. For you, my sweet Devil, not even close.” He backed me into the counter and dipped me into a kiss. He tasted of chocolate and snow and promises.

“Not a full wall, so I suppose that’s a half-kabedon,” Sasuke toasted us with his mug of coffee.

“Only the Russian judge will care.” I scooted out from under Shingen’s arms, then handed him my phone. “This cake will not frost itself. Why don’t you guys pick a place and order dinner. In this weather it could take a while to get here.”

Shingen opened up the restaurant delivery app. “Any preferences?”

“Your birthday, you pick. Just order something vegetarian for me.” I began putting the crumb coat of frosting onto the cake and pretended not to notice when Shingen stole another taste.

Sasuke rescued the cake from becoming a “naked cake” by taking Shingen into the other room to watch TV – they were working their way through the original Star Trek. I’m not sure Shingen was all that into the show, but it was fun to watch Sasuke watch it. Apparently, he and Gene Rodenberry had incompatible views on the science of space travel. Already I could hear him grumbling that spaceships didn’t need to ‘bank’ in zero gravity.

While I lost myself in the soothing rhythm of cake frosting (given the number of tiktok and youtube videos of people frosting cakes, I wasn’t the only person to appreciate the ASMR quality of cake decorating), I let my gaze wander from where I could see Shingen and Sasuke joking around in front of the tv set, to the window, where the late afternoon snow was lightly brushing against the window.

Respite.

There was that word again. Away from the stress and danger of the Sengoku, Shingen and I were cocooning in this little apartment, learning how to be together without distraction. Once we got back, we’d both have our battles to fight. I was determined to find Aki and demand an explanation, while Shingen was making plans to try to wrest Kai from Nobunaga. But until then, it was nice to have this comfort of daily living together, in order to strengthen what we’d need to face these challenges, both as individuals, and as ‘us.’

Later, after we’d finished dinner and a good portion of the birthday cake, the sugar crash hit, and we all sprawled lazily on the couch, good naturedly debating what to watch, without making any real effort to actually make a decision.

“Are you going to finish that?” Shingen indicated the remainder of the slice of cake that I hadn’t managed to eat.

Oof. Even if I thought I could move (too full), or wanted to move (too comfortable under Shingen’s arm) I didn’t want it. I’d made the cake to his tastes, not mine. “It’s about eighty percent frosting – go ahead. I’ve never liked that much sugar.”

He reached for it, then paused. “Except for the sweets from the Teahouse in Kasugayama – you liked those.”

I made a show of looking innocently at the ceiling and folding my hands penitently while Sasuke snickered quietly from his end of the couch.

Here came the forehead flick. “Really, Devil?”

“I never actually said I liked them. I simply didn’t correct your assumption that I did.” I resisted the urge to rub spot he’d just flicked. No need to encourage him.

“What am I going to do with her?” Shingen addressed Sasuke, who looked like he wanted to yeet out of the conversation completely. “She happily lies to me, steals my clothes” (oh yeah, I was wearing his shirt again), “-falls out of trees-”

“Alright, enough about that.” I gestured to Sasuke’s tablet, which was currently wirelessly connected to our TV. “Sasuke, go to youtube.” I gave him the address of the old youtube page that Toshiie and I had put up when we were still teenagers. Hopefully after so many years, it was still there. “We’re going to settle this tree thing once and for all.”

Sasuke did that ninja typing thing again. “Password?”

“Tony_Stark1610.”

“Ironman? Really Katsuko, you need better privacy settings than that.” He brought up the page. The freerunning videos were at the top, but we were going to go further back than that.

“Shut it, Spidey I was fourteen when I created this page.” No one would have been looking for it in any case.

He sighed. “At least you didn’t use your pets’ name or your birthday.”

“Sixteen ten is her birthday,” Shingen offered.

Also, Tony Stark had been the name of my cat, but I was not going to bring that up to Sasuke. “I’ll change the password later.” I directed him to the oldest video on the page.

It had been the last time I’d ever competed in artistic gymnastics – a small local competition. My mother, who normally was my biggest supporter had been having a bad week and that morning hadn’t left her bed. Toshiie had filmed the event so she could see it later. As far as I knew, she’d never watched. I’d quit soon after that – I’d only been doing it for her to begin with, and I didn’t have the funds -or the talent - to move up to an elite level. Not that that mattered now. What was on the video would likely look more impressive than it actually was.

Shingen and Sasuke watched my fourteen-year-old self tumble and flip across the balance beam. “There will be no more talk of me falling out of trees.”

“Can you teach me some of that? It would come in handy for a moderately awesome ninja.” Sasuke had a faraway look in his eyes. Likely imagining surprising Yuki or Kenshin with new tricks.

“Ah, now I understand what you meant about training as a performer from a young age.” Shingen watched teen Katsuko slide into a full split then dismount the beam with a flourish. “Are you still that flexible, Devil?”

Nobody with breasts and hips is that flexible. I was about to reply to that one with a forehead flick of my own, when the next video began. “I had no idea he posted this – Sasuke click stop.”

It was the freerunning video from the day of the wormhole – just seeing the view of the building that I was about to ascend brought back the feelings of restlessness and anxiety from that year.

“What’s wrong?” As usual, Shingen was tuned into my emotions and he picked up my hand and held it comfortingly.

“The day we got swept into the Sengoku, Toshiie filmed this. I was just surprised that he’d had time to put it on the page.” Discovering this was like time-traveling to my younger self in an archival wormhole.

“May I watch? I’d like to get a sense of the weather conditions that day – it’s a rare opportunity to have this type of data for analysis.” Sasuke had instantly become alert, ready to flip into Weird Science Mode.

“Um, if we play this, I need to warn you in advance – I was a lot more of a daredevil back then, and my brother and I fought about what I did here.” Which was why I was surprised he’d uploaded it. Maybe to try to talk me out of taking risks.

“So noted.” Shingen didn’t actually promise not to get upset, but Sasuke had already pressed start. I resisted the urge to watch Shingen, especially when I almost fell off a three-story building, but I could feel his tension at that point, and… what was that? “Wait, Sasuke, can you play that back?”

“I really don’t want to see you almost die again.” Yeah, Shingen sounded upset and his hand was almost squeezing mine too hard.

“Don’t watch me – look beyond that… left side of the roof.” Something had distracted me that day – that was why I had nearly fallen to begin with. “There.”

“I see it!” Sasuke paused the video and pinch zoomed. “What the hell is that?”

There had been someone else on the roof – a blurry, foggy figure who then vanished into the horizon almost as if they’d unzipped the sky and climbed in. “Now I am creeped out.” There wasn’t any way to tell who – or what – that had been. “Sasuke..?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He zoomed in some more, but that just added to the blur. “Permission to send a copy of this to myself?”

It might have been Aki.

It might have been Iekane.

It might have been someone completely unknown to us.

Who the hell were these people?

In any case, tracking down and confronting Aki suddenly became a lot more important.

The snowboarding expedition was a mixed success. Sasuke’s Ninja training had come in handy, and after a few basic pointers, he had left to try out his skills on an intermediate course… or more accurately, he’d wanted to further bond with a cute tourist he’d met on the ski lift.

Shingen was athletic, but this was one of the places his height was a disadvantage. With his higher center of gravity, he’d had some trouble getting into his knees. Eventually though, he’d picked it up, and soon was swooping down the training hill. He did fall a couple more times after that, but since both times he’d managed to take me down with him, I figured those had been on purpose.

After a couple hours, he noticed I was eyeing one of the half-pipes. “If you want to do that, I’m ready for a break.”

Hm. It had been seven (or, was it eight – I was never sure how to count the unknown amount of time I’d been stuck in the wormhole) years. Could I still manage it? But with Shingen voluntarily encouraging my daredevil tendencies – why not? I gave him a quick kiss. “See you at the bottom of the hill.

In no time at all, I’d dropped in and traversed the pipe. I’d kept it simple, without trying any of the tricks I used to do, aside from simple 180 turns at the top of each wall. But the rush was still there, and I zipped to the bottom with a whoop. Flying. Me and the sky. But the bigger rush? Seeing Shingen waiting for me at the base of the hill, smiling as he watched me skid to a stop.

“I once called you a moon goddess,” he said as I disengaged from the board. “I was wrong. You’re pure sunshine – made for daylight – the most radiant being I’ve ever seen.”

I smiled up at him and took his hand. “You keep that up and you’re going to melt all the snow.”

“What time are we meeting Sasuke?” he asked, while we were waiting to return our rented equipment.

“We’re not.” I pulled a hotel key card out of my pocket. I’d already packed some luggage for both of us in order to keep this a surprise. “Sasuke took an uber back to the apartment.” Or possibly he was furthering his acquaintance with the tourist he’d met earlier. “You and I are going to that hotel over there,” I pointed to the resort attached to the snow park. “Where we can celebrate your birthday by soaking in a private hot spring.”

Later, under the clear star filled sky, Shingen lowered himself with a sigh into steaming hot water. He leaned back against the natural rock formation and gazed out on the view of Mount Kosha. “This was a good idea you had.”

“I do have them, occasionally.” The combination of the snow kissed air and the hot water felt wonderful on my skin and ok- slightly – aching muscles. “I am a little sore after that… are you?”

“Given that I am close to five hundred years old, yes. These bones aren’t what they used to be.” In opposition to his statement, he swiftly pulled me onto his lap.

“I think you’re in great shape… for your age.” I ran my hands over his chest muscles.

“I fell a little bit in love with you the moment you said that. You had this challenging glint in your eyes.” He put his finger under my chin and drew my face up to his. “Yes, just like now. You hung onto that basket of pastry and acted like an insubordinate recruit.”

“In my defense, you had just set me up to be killed – hey!” Shingen removed my wet tankini top and tossed it aside. My nipples immediately tightened in the cold air. “That is not a place I want to have icicles dripping from.”

“Can’t have that.” He fastened his lips to my breast and warmed it with his mouth and tongue. “Hold still, Devil. I want to see if I can put the same look on your face that you had when you were zipping across the half-pipe.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him closer to me. “You do, Shingen. You might not always be looking my way when it’s there, but… you do.”

@bestbryn

#TBT12lies #throwback thursday #twelve lies i told shingen takeda #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #ikesen shingen #ikesen fanfic #ikesen sasuke #sasuke sarutobi

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litgwritersroom · 2 years ago

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REVELATIONS

Love Island, Actually Chapter Nine

read it on ao3 | chapter one | chapter seven

Difficult conversations are had as Delilah and Bruno are forced to deal with his past and Jules is confronted with the aftermath of her rendezvous. Meanwhile, Bridget and Bobby put their feet in their mouths and it gets River considering things she never did before…

DELILAH: breaking free

Sounds. There were so many sounds in the silence. The car doors shutting them in, the blast coming from the grates of the heaters, the buckle of the belts, but the one sound that was sorely absent, almost painful, was their voices.

A deep exhale, inconsequential muttering under the breath, mumbles to fill in the silence. That was all that was exchanged between them. Delilah was brought back to the days after she and Lucas had ended things, to the silence that lingered in her life after that. The accursed lack of noise, the refusal of words out loud �� it was a violence that was ironically never spoken about enough.

As the busy Friday lunchtime roads kept them stalling, the red light following a red light following a red light, the journey back to Bruno’s became frustratingly longer. Delilah didn’t want to talk about it in the car, but words tried to pull out of the back of her throat, scraping her bare as she had to swallow them back down.

Idle small talk felt so out of place, but the void was stretching, threatening to swallow her. It weighed heavy like she was meant to carry it as a Greek God would, but she was only human. Still, she had to try.

“That –”

“So –”

The crashing of words stopped them in their tracks, an awkward, insincere laugh following in its wake.

“We can talk when we get back to my place…” Bruno said, sounding lacklustre, like he knew something disappointing was brewing.

How bad was this news going to be, Delilah was left wondering. She was haunted by that last glance over at Jules; the frozen expression on her face like a deer caught in headlights. The texts from the woman of the same name that Bruno had insisted she needn’t worry about. Her knuckles shone white as she gripped the steering wheel.

The complex Delilah pulled them into was her first time. She and Bruno had only visited her place, and this was meant to be her first time treading into his turf. He had lived with Thea before she moved, and still had another roommate, so it was easier going to Delilah’s. Bruno had mentioned more than once that Lottie was an alternative girl who believed heavily in crystals and believed wholeheartedly that she practised real witchcraft.

Despite the awkwardness that had settled in the last half hour or so, Bruno opened the doors for Delilah, took her hand in his, led her in first so she was out of the cold quicker.

The place wasn’t the biggest, despite being fitted to house at least three people. The furniture wasn’t from the same set, let alone going for the same look; outdated rather than old-fashioned, with the occasional splash of the occupants' personalities here and there to try and make it feel more homely.

The remaining roommate was on the gingham sofa. Clearly a piece that came with the flat.

“Hey, Lottie,” Bruno said, as normal as could be. It was like there was no tension to be found, right up until he looked at Delilah, his finger pointing his way, adding, “This is, uhh –” and he floundered, unable to put a label on her after the display at her work.

Delilah reached over to Lottie. “Delilah,” she offered along with her hand.

“Lottie.” Her eyes narrowed, but not in a suspicious way, but like she was trying to place her. “Why do I feel like I know you from somewhere?”

Delilah sucked in her lips. In her gothic get up, Lottie was as striking as could be. She was not someone to forget, and Delilah had no memory of ever meeting her.

“Er, I sort of knew Thea? My sister-in-law owns The Sterling.”

The lightbulb went off for Lottie, lighting up her face in recognition.

“Right! You must be Gary’s sister! That’s how I know you!”

Delilah’s eyes widened. “Eh, yeah, we’re –”

“Twins! Yes, I’ve seen your picture in his office. I’m working with him at the minute, filling in a temporary position in his office.” Her brows arched up. “How’s he doing? We all missed him so much while he was on his honeymoon. It definitely wasn’t the same without him making his jokes all the time. He has the best banter.”

“That’s debatable,” Delilah said as kindly as she could to this stranger. “He’s good, cloud nine, that sort of thing. Settling into married life and all that.”

“Do you want a drink or anything, Delilah?” Bruno asked.

Delilah was thankful for the interruption. She wasn’t super into discussing her brother with Lottie, especially when she and Bruno still had their cross to bear. She shook her head and excused herself politely. Bruno led the way to his room, and she followed.

The door closed behind them, shuttering out Lottie, Jules, and the whole world. The silence from before sprang open, ready for them to dive onto, ready to catapult them high in the sky. Would they stay there, floating in the stars, or would they crash and burn, skidding across the ground.

Already Delilah had fallen so hard for Bruno. The question remained over how bruised and broken she would be when she landed this time around. Or if she ever would.

She was praying for the latter.

“So,” Delilah began, removing her scarf onto his bed. She could smell the fresh fabric softener, signalling that he had changed the sheets not too long ago. The fragrance filled his room. It was dizzying and delightful at the same time, but she was too burdened with what had just happened to allow her thoughts to linger on this gesture.

“... Yeah.” Bruno shrugged his jacket off, slinging it over his desk chair, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. He sighed, and it quickly lengthened out into a groan as he remained not making eye contact with her.

Delilah sat on his bed, reminiscent of a teenager confined to a singular room for privacy.

“That was really awkward, I’m sorry.” He looked at her finally, the apology clear in his eyes, the unease of the situation lingering on his face.

“Jules is your ex,” Delilah offered, willing the statement to be true over anything else that could have been a possibility. Already she’d made the connection to the ‘Jools’ in his contacts. She’d have to be daft not to.

“Sort of.”

Brows raised, Delilah pushed, “Sort of how? Like … you’re still seeing her? I know you’re messaging each other about meeting up.”

His mouth hung open like he was scrambling for something to put there. Words, excuses, explanations. Just something. As he struggled and stammered, Delilah’s head was filled with the text message she’d read on his phone, someone else’s name lit up on the screen.

There was a whole mix of emotions swirling within her, trying to bubble up to boiling point. She had to work hard to keep everything down, to stop anything from spilling over, from overreacting or panicking. It was fine, everything was good, explainable. She and Bruno could talk through whatever the hell had just happened.

“Delly,” he said, voice strained, as he came lumbering onto the bed next to her, his knees leaving an imprint in the sheets as he made his way over. He laid his hands gently on her arm and she felt herself melting in an instance.

She liked Bruno. She liked him a lot. Was he different to the man she had thought she was getting to know these past few weeks? How long did you have to be with someone before you knew them? She thought she had got to that point already. She thought she had him pinned, her impression infallible. He was a good man, and a good friend, and a good boyfriend. If she had been wrong, she couldn’t bear the thought of what she’d have to do.

“Delly, I’m really sorry, and I get how that looked,” he went on, the same urgency that laced his voice making its way to his pupils, the concern spinning in his blue irises, “but please believe me that nothing is going on … anymore.”

There was a lump in her throat at that last word. Tacked on at the last minute. The blow had been softened, only for the anvil to land on her head anyway.

“...Elaborate,” she said, the words pouring through her teeth, the only way she could get them out at all.

He paused again. Why was this so hard for him to explain? It’s what was making Delilah’s insecurity triple.

“We were … seeing each other, for a bit,” he went on, his hands talking with him, something Delilah had noted him doing in his comedy sketch when he was rehearsed but nervous. “It never went anywhere serious, to be honest, and by the time I had met you, Delilah, I barely noticed that Jules had sort of ghosted me.”

“But you’re messaging her. She’s the Jools you have in your phone.”

“Yeah,” he said, uneasily, like she’d caught him out on a technicality. “She messaged me randomly to say sorry for how she’d treated me. The night we met Jules had … stood me up…”

Delilah found that that last confession did little to cheer her up.

“Like I said, though, I’ve been having such a great time with you that I hadn’t really thought about Jules until she messaged me.”

“So you don’t care about her?”

“It’s not that I don’t care … We’re sort of becoming friends in a way? She’s been more open and friendly with me since we stopped having sex.”

She pushed and she pushed and she pushed back tears that floated behind her eyes, desperate not to give in to them. “I know it’s only been a short time, Bruno, but I think I deserve a little more than what happened earlier. I don’t want to sound needy, but it did hurt when you blurted out for everyone, specifically Jules, that you and I weren’t – serious, basically. I thought that’s what we were aiming for and I don’t want to be someone’s fun time, or the in-between. I want to be someone’s first choice.” She exhaled deeply, taking a short second to herself before adding, “I want to be the only choice.”

His expression had softened, the embarrassment and unease seeping off and she could see the certainty behind his eyes saying that’s what he wanted, too. That he felt that way as well.

Delilah wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe it so bad. Everything was too fresh, and what he’d done and what he’s said was telling a different story to the one playing in the way he looked at her. She needed to know the climax now because she wasn’t interested in unhappy endings. Call it cheap, call it cliche, call it boring, but she was a happily ever after girl and she wasn’t going to apologise for wishing and hoping and praying for the best.

He shut his eyes tight for a fleeting moment. “I know. I know. I’m sorry, it all happened so quickly, it just came out. I didn’t want Jules to think I’d had a girlfriend the entire time I’d been seeing her or something.”

Something felt caught in her chest, pulling tight on the strings that were already so taught, to the point she was beginning to feel them fray. “So you care more about how she feels than how I do?”

His eyes went wide. “No, no! It’s not like that! I just - I didn’t want a scene to happen, you know? Like she realises I have a girlfriend and she does the right thing and confronts me in front of you and your work colleagues and then because Jules is blowing up at me you get this idea that I’ve been two-timing when - let me just be clear, there was noooo overlap in the slightest - basically, I could see it spilling out into a nightmare.” He breathed in deeply. “And I’m so sorry that it ended up making you feel bad. This isn’t - it’s not - I didn’t think what I had with Jules was worth explaining before, but if I’d known you work with her…”

Delilah’s mouth thinned sheepishly. “Well, I don’t technically. I just happen to be collaborating with her to boost Mason’s profile since she works at the biggest music magazine.”

“Oh, see!” Bruno slapped his hands together with such a bang his skin must have stung, but he soldiered on, carrying out his jubilant point. “I had no idea she worked in music - or journalism - I think that’s what it would be? But yeah, see, that’s how little I know Jules.”

“So the relationship was just sex?”

“Yes!”

“And you're still in contact?”

“Yeah!”

He looked at her. She looked at him.

“I should stop that, probably…” he added, sucking his bottom lip inwards.

“I mean …” Delilah’s eyes bulged momentarily. “It’s not great from my perspective, truth be told.”

“That’s totally understandable, and don’t worry. I - You won’t have to worry about me or Jules again, that’s a promise.”

Delilah nodded, feeling lighter. “Shake on it?” She said, holding out her hand reminiscent of their date.

“It’s a deal,” he grinned.

His hand clasped hers and though this small exchange was just that - small - Delilah let it encompass her. She wanted to shake out all the negative feelings, to keep flying high, soaring to that happily ever after in the city skyline. She knew she had to land at some point, but that wasn’t going to be today, and it wasn’t going to end in a bloody heap.

“But are we on the same page?” She asked tentatively. This time she felt a lot more secure in the answer she’d get.

“Same page, same book, same genre,” he said, laying down on his side, finally getting comfortable. “You’re my only choice, Delilah. As soon as I met you I knew that. There isn’t anyone else to even compare.”

For the first time since she first saw him that day, she dared to smile. It flit in at the corners of her mouth, daring to spread to her cheeks, infecting itself into her eyes to make them sparkle, infecting her mood and uplifting her.

Bruno copied her smiled. “It’s weird, but I feel like I’ve known you a lot longer than I actually have. It’s like we’ve been doing this forever. I can’t believe you weren’t in my life even a month ago.”

“I know what you mean,” she said, mirroring how comfortably he lay. “It feels so bizarre that you haven’t always been in my life, but you’ve been living your own, doing whatever, without me.”

“Not anymore,” he grinned. “It’s you and me now.”

“Pinkie promise?”

“Pinkie promise.”

They wrapped that small part of themself around one another, the gesture and the words as strong as an anchor. Maybe she didn’t have to keep trying to fly so high after all.

JULES: would’ve, could’ve, should’ve

It was quiet, the kind of quiet where you wished and prayed for some sort of noise to appear and give your racing mind something else to focus on. The bed that she’d spread out like a starfish on for the last few months suddenly felt crowded. Cramped. She found it hard to believe the two of them had ever shared this bed before.

“You know this can never happen again, right?”

Her voice was soft but she may as well have been screaming in the silence that had settled around them.

Suresh turned onto his side, fixing those striking green eyes on her. “I figured you would say that. But I don’t think that has to be the case,” he said, reaching out for her. His fingers had barely grazed her arm before she sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, turning so her naked back was to him.

“Jules,” he said softly, and she felt him shift behind her, his hands coming to lightly grip her shoulders. “Come on. This is dumb and you know it.” His lips on her neck. “I know you. You don’t want this to end.”

Something about his words turned her blood to ice. Did he not think she was capable of thinking for herself? Of knowing what she needed?

“But I do, Suresh,” Jules said, shooting to her feet, taking most of the blankets with her as she tried to wrap them around herself, turning to look at him a moment later. “Don’t you get it? I need this to be over.”

“I don’t think you do,” Suresh said, watching her with a guarded sort of expression. Gone was the stripped down version of him that she’d seen in the kitchen, the person that had served her those divorce papers to begin with was looking right at her now.

“Maybe things weren’t perfect but I think what you need is for us to stay together. Jules, you’ve been miserable since we separated. Hell, you still haven’t told me what had you so upset earlier. You weren’t like that when we were together.”

“You were never around to see me like that!” Jules exclaimed, and she could hear the exasperation in her voice. “And who do you think you are, getting off on telling me what I need? What I needed was a husband who didn’t fuck other women, that was what I needed, but you couldn’t even give me that. What I needed was a husband who was emotionally available, okay, that was what I needed. You never gave me a damn thing I needed, Suresh, so how can you sit in our bed and tell me that giving you another chance is what I need? Huh?”

It came out of her like water flowing from a faucet, everything she had found herself wishing she could say to him since that night he left their flat with a bag and not even a goodbye. For once, she didn’t allow herself to hold back for fear of permanently damaging the delicate thing between them because that thing was already broken. Shattered.

A part of her had known that when she saw him standing outside her door, waiting to collect his things. She knew that there was no repairing this, no matter what he said to her or how many apologies he whispered into her skin. Call it closure or call it downright stupidity, but she’d known when she’d fallen into bed with him that it wasn’t going to be the glue that put their relationship back together.

As petty as it was, it felt like a final fuck you to him. Letting him have one last taste of her, one last reminder of what all he’d thrown away, before she took it away from him. Because at the end of the day, he was the one who told her he didn’t want to sign the papers. She had all the power now; this was all over the minute she decided it was. And it had to be over; she couldn’t let this keep going on.

For her own sanity’s sake.

“And I told you I was sorry for that—” he began, but she cut him off.

“Actually, you didn’t. You told me you made a mistake and that you regret making that mistake but you have never once apologized for everything you’ve done to me, Suresh. And that’s the issue.”

“Okay, so what, then? You go through with the divorce, and what? You’re just fine with that? With throwing away five years?” he asked, and the way he was looking at her made her want to scream, like she was some kind of petulant child throwing a tantrum instead of an adult woman making actual, relevant points.

But of course, because she was pointing out his flaws, it was like he didn’t hear a damn thing she was saying.

“You threw away five years the second you started screwing someone behind my back,” she said, trying her damndest to keep her voice steady. “And our fucking boss I mean, how cliché can you be?”

“Don’t bring Talia into this, Jules,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

“I think I have every right to bring her into this conversation when the only reason we have to even have this conversation is because you cheated on me with her, but sure, let’s leave Talia out of this!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms up. The blankets slipped down and she yanked them back up around her, blowing out a breath as she did so. God, having this argument when they were both naked hadn’t really been her plan.

“What are you going to do without me, Jules?” he asked, arching a dark brow at her. “You’ve been attached to my fucking hip since we started Uni. You don’t talk to your parents, you don’t have any siblings, you don’t have any friends.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “You don’t have anyone besides me.”

“I have me,” she said, the words rolling off her tongue quicker than she’d expected them to. “And I also have this flat since you took your name off of the lease, so you can get the hell out.”

Suresh looked at her for a long moment before he got up, yanking on the clothes that were scattered across the floor. “Fine, Jules. But you know what? When everything inevitably goes to shit—which it will—I’m not going to be here to save you.” He finished buttoning his shirt and snatched his jacket up, throwing it on as he fixed her with a hard look. “Remember that.”

She wasn’t sure she’d ever been so relieved to hear her front door slam in her entire life.

BRIDGET: faux pas

Usually, Bridget could be counted on being the life of the party. She loved people, so she’d circle the room and engage pretty much everyone in conversation, no matter if they were people she’d known for years or someone she just met on the spot. Being social was her thing, as she’d put people at ease, talking about any topic of conversation at hand or making them laugh with her easy banter.

Tonight she was feeling a bit off her game. Even though the party for Chelsea’s birthday at the Edwards’ household (which was practically a mansion) should’ve been exactly her type of scene, she somehow still felt a little intimidated by the opulence of the place, as she couldn’t shake off the feeling that she didn’t quite belong there. Which was a bit ridiculous, as she’d been hanging out with Gary and all his friends for years now, she knew practically everybody, including some of River and Chelsea’s extended family.

Maybe it was the fact that their brother Eddie had invited all the members of FourWay, including their manager Jasper and that had the potential to be a triple-fold minefield. Never mind the thing where, as Delilah’s best friend, Bridget should be totally against the band (Delilah insisted she didn’t need to engage in the ridiculous rivalry between FourWay and Mason Knowles, but Bridget knew better than that). But no, the issue was that she actually had personal history with not only one of the members but with their manager, too.

Back in her uni days, she’d lived a very ‘work hard, party hard’ lifestyle and on one such partying occasion she’d hooked up with Tom, way before he was known as the lead singer for the band. And she’d actually gone to uni with Jasper, where they’d had an on-again-off-again thing for a while.

But still, everybody had a past and Bridget would never be ashamed of hers. It was all water under the bridge (ha!), water off the duck’s back, still waters, not troublesome waters or… something? Anyway, that was all ages ago and they should all be able to behave like grownups in this social setting (she hoped).

Maybe her discomfort might be simply physical, as she’d been feeling off nearly the whole week. She hadn’t been violently ill since Tuesday, thank goodness, but every day she’d suffered from some bouts of nausea and headaches now and then. She wondered if maybe she should go to the doctor, but the symptoms seemed so minor that she was sure any day now they’d clear up and everything would go back to normal. And she’d never let something like this stop her from celebrating one of her dear friends, as Chelsea meant so much to her.

Maybe it was the absence of Delilah, as usually the two best friends would be joined at the hip during these events. Her sister-in-law did say she would be busy with the photoshoot for Mason’s article in the afternoon but that she’d try to stop by later. Bridget had sent her several texts that had gone with no reply so far, but she figured Delilah was probably spending more time with Bruno and she couldn’t blame her for prioritising her new beau over a party on a Friday night.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she’d got there alone, since Gary had come straight from the office. She’d even thought he might’ve been a bit late to the party since the whole week he’d missed dinner as he was working late, ironing out the details for the contract with the big client, yet it turned out he’d actually arrived early to help out with something about the sound system for the DJ? She wasn’t sure because just as Gary had been explaining it to her, River came up to them with a rather harried expression.

“There you are,” she said without preamble, placing a hand around Gary’s arm. “You need to come with me. Kassam says there’s something wrong with the audio system and he can’t figure out what you did.”

“Oh man,” he grumbled in exasperation with an annoyed expression. “Of course, he can’t. Fine, let’s see what the oh-so-famous-yet-technologically-challenged DJ needs now.”

Bridget chuckled as he handed her his beer before he followed River back through the throngs of people. She just stood there for a moment watching as they walked away before she mentally shook herself and turned around to socialise with the people around her.

She chatted for a bit with Chelsea and her beautiful mother, Magnolia, as she complimented their home and the lovely party. She danced and joked around with Kobi and some of his friends, at one point laughing so much that she had legit tears in her eyes. She even bit the bullet and said hi to Tom and Jasper, the two men congratulating her on hearing news of her recent wedding. It was actually way nicer than she had expected, no awkward blunders, weird vibes or any other unpleasantness as she found it was still as easy to banter around with them as when they’d been close, literally another lifetime ago.

The music had been flowing around them for a while and even though Bridget kept moving around the room she couldn’t seem to find Gary anywhere. She had paused by the bar as she looked around to see if she could spot him when Bobby sidled up to her.

“Two drinks at once?” He commented with a smirk. “Someone’s looking to party hard.”

“The beer is actually Gary’s,” she clarified with a smile as she held it up. “I’ve been carrying this thing around for almost half an hour now, since River took him away to solve some music emergency.”

“And you’re still carrying it around?” Bobby asked with a bemused frown. “Why didn’t you just drink it? The thing’s probably gone stale.” He said, making a gesture with his hand and she handed it over.

“I would’ve, but my stomach was acting up earlier,” she said with a shrug. “I actually switched to ginger ale.” She gestured with the flute in her hand.

“You’re still feeling sick then?” He asked, tipping his head back to gulp down some of the beer before grimacing. “See? Stale.” He commented, before getting rid of the glass of beer and going back to his tumbler of scotch.

“No, I’m actually feeling loads better. Just had some bubbly earlier and it didn’t sit all that well with me,” she said, brushing it off, as she didn’t want to cause him concern, but she could still see the worry in his eyes. “Oh my god, your brother and his friends are hilarious!” She exclaimed, hoping to distract him. “That theatre kid, Johnny? I had literal tears in my eyes at the impressions he was making.”

That got Bobby going, because the mere idea that anyone would be as funny as him seemed to be a matter of pride and Bobby set out to prove that he was even funnier by charming her with his best jokes, impressions and top-notch banter. By the time Gary and River joined them, he had her in stitches and Bridget was feeling so much more at ease.

“Is it time for the Bobby Show already?” Gary asked with a smile as he circled his arms around Bridget. “Did Riv hire you as part of the entertainment for the night then?”

“Nah, this is all a labour of love,” Bobby said, throwing his best friend a cheeky wink.

“Maybe you should try being a standup, Bobs,” Bridget told him with a grin. “I hear comedians are very popular these days.”

River let out a quiet laugh at that and bumped her hip with Bobby’s, a teasing gleam in her eye as she looked him over.

“Oh really?” Gary turned to his wife with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Where did you get that?”

“It’s what I heard from Thea anyway,” Bridget said with a shrug. “One of her roommates is a standup comedian and sort of a regular at the pub.” She took a sip of ginger ale then to avoid mentioning anything about Delilah, as she was sure she hadn’t said anything about Bruno to her brother yet.

“Bobby McKenzie, standup comedian,” Bobby said with a laugh. “Not gonna lie, I kind of like the sound of that. Maybe I’ll check out some open mic nights?”

“Oh my god,” River said with an exaggerated sigh. “I see how my life is gonna be reduced to going ‘round to stand up bars now.”

“Bet you would love having a horde of fangirls going after all your shows,” Gary nudged him with an elbow to his ribs. “Do comedians get lots of hook-ups, you think?”

“According to Thea, they do,” Bridget said with a laugh. “But oh! I’d actually really love to see you with a nice girlfriend, Bobby. You’re such a great guy, you deserve to find happiness and love.”

If she could’ve taken those words back, she would’ve. She didn’t really think before saying them, because it was something that had been going around in her mind lately, how she wished Bobby would fall in love with someone and just be in a happy relationship. But she saw the flash of hurt in his eyes, as if those words directed at him coming from her were such a blow and in hindsight she could understand how it had been a bit insensitive of her.

She could feel she was about to start rambling away to dissipate the awkwardness in the air, as she wasn’t sure if it was all in her head or if everyone else could feel it too. But then River was speaking up, seemingly glossing over the potentially awkward moment as they continued with the conversation.

“Even if you don’t get a girlfriend out of it, at the very least you should get laid more often, boy,” River said with a smirk.

“Such a ladylike comment,” Gary snickered. “And in your mother’s house, too. Imagine what your mum would think if she heard that.”

“Excuse me if some of us like sex and aren’t afraid to admit it,” River huffed in response, a smile just tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Yeah,” Bobby said with a huff of his own, gazing into his scotch. “You and your married men.”

For a brief moment, Bridget had been expecting River to groan in response to what she was sure was a joke, as Gary would then launch into one of a thousand stories from their youth and reference a funny episode or another. But then Bobby looked up in alarm, almost as if surprised he’d said those words out loud. And looking at River she could see the same shock visible on her features, her eyes wide and her mouth just slightly open. She couldn’t look more shellshocked if Bobby had actually slapped her.

“Riv ─!” Bobby reached out reflexively, but she simply shook her head, her face like thunder as she hurriedly walked away. He ran a hand over his face and cursed under his breath, seeming to forget everyone else around him as he also started walking in the same direction she’d gone.

Bridget turned with a completely befuddled expression to Gary. “What the hell was that?”

“I honestly have no idea,” he said, turning to her with a confused frown.

“Really?” She asked in a disbelieving tone with a raised eyebrow. “You don’t know something that’s going on with River and Bobby?”

“I swear, I have no idea what that was, darling.”

She could see the honesty shining in the depths of his baby blues as well as his own sense of confusion, but something about that whole scene had her rattled. She opened her mouth to argue back, but then her stomach churned and she could feel the acid burning up her oesophagus.

She rushed by Chelsea as she ran across the room to the restroom and she made it just in time so she could empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

“Oh my god, babe!” Chelsea exclaimed in alarm as she walked in after her, crouching down next to Bridget and holding her hair back. “Are you okay?”

She could only shake her head as the wave of nausea hit her again. By the time she was done, Gary was also standing at the door of the restroom, his face marred with deep concern.

“What happened?” Chelsea asked as she helped her up and they walked to the sink. “Is it something you ate? Was it something in your drink?”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Bridget said dismissively as she splashed water on her face and rinsed her mouth. “It’s nothing to do with your party, I’ve been feeling off the whole week.”

The gasp coming from Chelsea was so loud that it seemed to suck all the air out of the room. “Oh my days! Babe, are you pregnant?!”

Bridget looked up in alarm at that. She met Gary’s eyes in the mirror and she could see the same shock etched on his features, as the thought hadn’t even crossed their minds before. She was glad the Edwards also had a big restroom with a chair on hand because suddenly she was standing on very shaky legs and needed to sit down.

Not only for the possibility of dealing with an unexpected pregnancy, but because in the back of her mind she couldn’t stop thinking about Bobby’s strange remark and how the only married man in River’s life was actually… Gary.

RIVER: heat waves

The door opened.

River didn't have to look at it to know it was Bobby. Maybe it was the certainty she had that he would never let her be mad at him for more than five minutes, maybe it was how there wasn't a single chance Bobby would let her think he hurt her on purpose, or maybe it was just the sound of his sneakers against the tiles that she had grown used to. Probably all of the above.

"How did you know I was here?" Her feet were inside the pool already. Even if it was the middle of December, the indoor pool was always warm.

From her periphery, she realised Bobby was taking his shoes off just to sit next to her, and she had to fight back a smile. "I realised when we were around fifteen that you like to hide in your indoor pool when you're upset, never really understand why, though."

"It's the furthest away from the house." She sighed, feeling his body get closer to her, so close they were almost touching. "And my dad never liked it here."

He hummed, like it all suddenly made sense and she hated it. Hated that he knew her well enough so her peculiarities that she was so proud of were easy to decode. Between River and Bobby there was no mystery, no cool girl with a distant heart, no pride to keep. She was his usual, his every day, a certainty, something he knew like the palm of his hand, and she hated it.

She avoided looking at him, just for now. It bothered her that he had this power over her mind, how he could make her feel incredibly bad then switch it up to make her happy again. It was a feeling in the pit of her stomach, one she learnt to avoid at any cost but that Bobby would bring back now and again. One that made her hate people and ruin herself over and over again just to bury deep down her chest.

"River," his voice, so overly sad, pierced through her, making her tremble. She knew he would make it good again, he always had a way of doing it.

"Let me be mad at you for a second," she spit the words, a little more aggressive than she meant it but never daring to look at him. If she couldn't control how easily Bobby would fix this, she at least would control when he did it.

There was nothing he could say about it except a low and begrudgingly, "Sure."

Again, River sighed. "You know, I really, I really trusted you with this. I know you don't owe me anything at all, Bobby, but I trusted you, so I told you. I would rather die than lie to you and I thought… Somehow you felt the same. Loyalty and all that."

"But I do, Riv, I—"

"Let me finish," she interrupted him, closing her eyes to not watch his response. "Anyway, I know you are… in love… with Bridget or whatever, and I always tried so hard to protect your feelings from yourself. I wish you had the same care with me as I have with you, that's all. I can't really… demand anything… but I would like it if you didn't put me in second place."

"I'd never… oh, River, I would never…"

"You did, you chose to tell my secret to everyone instead of facing her."

River hadn't noticed it before but when she opened her eyes and looked down, she had her hands closed so tight it was hurting her palms. They were sitting on her lap, pressing her thighs down and pushing her shoulders up. Her hair fell around her like a curtain, protecting her from Bobby's broken voice.

"I screwed up, didn't I?"

She looked down, she looked up, she looked ten metres forward, but all that didn't stop her from looking at him. Her heart broke almost immediately and she instantly forgave him, just like she knew she would. He was staring down at their feet, slowly touching the water, but even so, he just had that devastated look on his face. His long lashes looked wet with tears, like morning dew, and his always silly smile was taken by an upside-down curve that River would dare to call a frown.

There it was, that stupid wave of affection and love she had for Bobby and only he. All she wanted to do was hold his face with soft hands, caress his cheeks, kiss his temples and say it was fine, that she was fine now. Bobby looked sad, frustrated and disappointed, all things she had caused him herself. She had spent so long hating those who hurt him and now, look at her.

All she had to do was think for a while to conclude there was no way she could be mad at him. He could hurt her, push her, simply disappear, and River would love him again the moment he showed up. It sucked, believe it, she was well aware of that, but still, she couldn't change that for the life of her. Her heart had a soft spot for him and a mind of its own.

"I know I maybe deserved it," she sighed. "But I really trusted you."

In a sudden move — one she wasn't expecting, even if he was Bobby McKenzie — he grabbed her hand and squeezed it, making her eyes travel to their linked fingers. She wondered if he could feel the beat of her heart in his hand. "No, you didn't deserve it. I was a complete knob. This was on me, Riv."

Rived nodded in agreement, squeezing his hand, trying to be light, funny. "At least you are aware of it."

He chuckled, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "I know what you're doing…"

"Oh?" She blushed — thankful that the moonshine wasn't that bright at that time of the night — the sentence catching her off guard as if she was a reindeer and the words, headlights.

"You never let me apologise properly, you always interrupt me, say it's fine or make a joke, but you never let me finish," he sighed, turning to look her in the eyes. They were so golden, had she noticed it before?

She shook that thought off her head and tried to focus on what mattered. Again, Bobby was right — he had been right a lot lately. She never let him apologise. Because she was afraid of the look in his eyes when he was guilty, the feeling in the pit of her stomach when he looked at her as if she was too precious to lose, and the dread of breaking it if she pushed too far. River knew that out of all her flaws, the lacking knowledge of how to be loved was the biggest of them all.

For Bobby, she wanted to be the synonym for summertime, happiness, bike rides next to the beach, fireworks, and good friendship. Nothing less. And definitely nothing more.

But when did Bobby care for that silly bad impression she had of herself? "So, right here, right now, I'm stopping you to say I am sorry, River." He nodded, taking a deep breath. "I will never, ever do something like that again. Not telling your secrets to others, not lying to you, not shaming you. I love you and you're so fucking important to me, and…"

Love you. She thought about those words for an instant. Bless his heart, she knew they were honest and she couldn't even count the times they had said it to each other, but a man shouldn't be saying that type of thing to a woman in the middle of the night, that close to her.

But then, she stopped herself. She was the one who shouldn't be seeing the situation like that, she knew he meant it in a fraternal way. For god's sake, she was anything but fine that night.

"It's fine, Bobby," she squeezed his hand and smiled before hugging him. And she was honest, it was really fine, after all. "I'm ok, I trust you. I love you. I just needed to cool down."

It was quiet for a while and she thought it was over. They would stand up and then go back to the party, if there was a party to go back to. If not, then he would stay a little longer and they would watch something on Netflix in her childhood bedroom.

But then she looked at him with one of her honest smiles and he had a mischievous smile that became a mischievous tone in his voice. "Cool down, you say?"

She only realised what he meant when his arms were circling her waist and they were falling.

Bobby pushed their bodies onto the pool. The water was warm, thankfully, due to its heating system, so the impact wasn't as big as it could've been. River didn't get the time to think before Bobby was splashing water around, laughing like a little kid, and making her follow him.

Soon enough, they were splashing each other in a weird, no rules spoken, competition. She had a feeling she was about to win and he might as well have felt the same because one second they were joking and the next he was holding her by her wrists, keeping her lock close to his body so she wouldn't move.

Her breath caught in her throat as she tilted her head to look at him. Had she ever noticed how the moon shone through the window panels? Or was it just its reflection on Bobby's skin that would make it look that pretty? Inside his eyes, she could see it better. As she searched for answers to questions that she thought were long forgotten, she saw a glimpse of the moonshine and her own reflection, looking back.

Time had frozen them on the spot, she thought for sure. What other reason would they have to be so quiet? Especially them, known for being loud and proud. The pressure of his fingertips on her skin started to tingle and, suddenly, River was much more aware of his engulfing presence and the few centimetres that made him taller than her. His cheeks, dusted with freckles, had a much brighter shade of scarlet and his dimples were looking so much clearer now.

Oh.

Bobby was handsome.

And she couldn't help but flush under the amber pair of eyes that looked at her back with an intensity that most definitely mirrored her own. The weight of his eyes had never felt so heavy on her, scanning and picking details as if it was the first time in a long while he had seen her, even if they saw each other every day for the past 10 years. She couldn't blame him though. For her, it was like seeing him for the first time as well.

Taking her by surprise, her heartbeat quickened and Bobby softened his grip on her. Yet, she didn't let go or dared to move away. She could feel his chest moving up and down, his breath just above hers, and the hesitation he also was full of. If someone was going to break their spell, it wouldn't be her. Not when she found herself wondering what he would do.

She could swear she felt him leaning towards her — or maybe it was her standing on her tiptoes — before they heard someone opening the door to the pool all at once. They snapped their heads in the direction of the sound at the same time, meeting River's mother leaning against the glass door.

"What are you two doing?" Magnolia asked, her blue silky robe sweeping the floor.

Even though the presence of her mother had just startled her, it was Bobby's voice that made it all very much real.

"It was just…" she heard him saying too close to her. Her eyes immediately turned back to him at the same time he did. But as quickly as he looked down, he shot his amber eyes right back up, leaving River with her heart beating faster than ever before. "... just a stupid joke. We were just about to leave."

He took a step back slowly and she had the time to miss his always-warm skin before he turned and swam back to the ladder. She couldn't exactly pinpoint why but she suddenly felt hollow.

"Yeah," she affirmed in a quiet voice, not sure of what had just happened.

She trailed the same path as him, back to the ground, with a handful of new things she had noticed about it, the knowledge that Bobby McKenzie was handsome and her heart on her throat.

#litg #litg writers room #writers room #litg fanfic #litg ff #lia #love island actually #love island the game #litg bruno #litg suresh #litg gary #litg noah #litg bobby #litg nicky

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josephthesnailshow · 2 years ago

Text

Burnt Luigi

Burnt Luigi is a creepypasta/arg created by JosephTheSnail (or JosephTheSnailShow). The story explains about a weird copy of Super Mario 64, an installment of Nintendo's Super Mario franchise, where the player supposedly activated an easter egg that shows Luigi burning alive and becoming disfigured afterwards.

I love Nintendo. The console I grew up with was the Nintendo 64; the games on the console are alright, but the one I liked the most was Super Mario 64. Unfortunately, I just realized that I don’t have a copy of Super Mario 64; I looked everywhere and couldn’t find one—only a dusty Nintendo 64 console I have.

I shrugged and asked my parents if I could get Super Mario 64 again; they agreed, and I went across the street to the nearby GameStop next to Walmart, because it's a submall with GameStop—I found the game, brand new, and gratefully purchased it—but there wasn't any short message written in sharpie on the cartridge or anything eerie from one of those haunted game stories I'd seen before.

I returned home, dusted off the console, and turned on my Nintendo 64 to begin playing, and the game began as it usually does: I was greeted by the head of Mario, I pressed START, and it played the cutscene where Mario jumped out of the pipe; I didn't find anything weird; it was like any other Mario game. Keep in mind that this game was not cheap; it cost the exact same as what you would expect from a Super Mario 64 copy.

Anyway, when I first started the Bob-omb Battlefield level, I collected stars one by one.

After I reached the top of the mountain, King Bob-omb came there to greet Mario and say his line. For some reason, his brother is mentioned in the text, but I don't remember what it said because I was focused on the good part of the level, fighting King Bob-omb. I did notice the text though; here's what he said:

"I'm the Big Bob-omb, lord of all exploding matter, and king of global ka-booms! How dare you scale my mountain? By what right do you set foot on my imperial mountaintop? You may have eluded my guards, but you'll never escape my grasp. And you'll never take away my power star. I hereby challenge you, Mario! If you want the star I hold, you must prove yourself in battle. Can you pick me up and hurl me onto this royal turf? I don't think you can!

Don't disappoint Luigi."

I didn't care since there's nothing weird about hearing Luigi get mentioned in any of the Mario series. I finally collected the star after I defeated King Bob-omb.

Nothing really weird happens; it's just me having fun.

But I played the game until I unlocked the basement after defeating Bowser and getting the key; I didn’t go into any detail because nothing fascinating happened, and then I entered the basement.

This area always creeped me out as a kid; I don’t know why. I just walked around messing with my N64 controller for the fun of it; I don’t know what I activated, but I might’ve activated a secret, and eventually, I reached the part of the basement where the picture frame of Lethal Lava Land is.

For some reason, instead of the figure in the picture frame, it was Luigi. For some odd reason, this version of Super Mario 64 is so dedicated to Luigi that it's almost like the "Year of Luigi" thing is still continuing; I personally didn't find anything wrong with it since I like Luigi as a character after all.

Again. It didn’t seem too out of the ordinary because Luigi was planned to be in the game in the beta test days, but I just jumped into the picture frame, and I was sent to the level afterward.

Lethal Lava Land was the same as it normally should be, but some platforms were missing and coins were gone.

I began looking for stars to collect in order to unlock a level or star room. I eventually arrived at the platform where Mr. I was supposed to be, but instead of Mr. I, Luigi was standing there on the edge, not moving at all. I approached him to see if he was just Mr. I with a different model; this could have been a modded version of Super Mario 64, a personalized copy, or something, but I accidentally pushed him into the lava.

I felt very bad for him.

His screams and cries for Mario were not distorted or recorded by a different person; they were made by Charles Martinet, the voice actor of Mario and Luigi.

After Luigi’s flesh melts and he drowns in the lava, a star flies out of the lava, and I collect it.

I was instantly sent to Peach’s castle, but for some reason, I was knocked out of the picture frame like Mario does when he fails a level. I noticed that the water was red, almost like blood, and Mario had a terrified expression on his face.

Right behind him, Luigi looked different—almost like a zombie, his clothes were darker, and his skeleton was visible. His clothes were torn as well. Every time I tried to find my way out, it was like the endless staircase you need to go up to defeat Bowser. but every door was locked, and the gruesome imagery of Luigi will stay on my mind until the day I die. It sounds a little dramatic and morbid, I know.

But the eerie part is that Luigi in the picture frame had 1080p graphics, and it’s pretty eerie because the game doesn’t have decent graphics since it’s on the Nintendo 64. Let's be honest here. You've seen the games like Super Smash Bros. and the others, and the quality is not very good, in my opinion. The picture of Luigi's disfigured body in the picture frame threw the low-quality graphics out the window.

I was correct; the bloodied water rose, and Mario drowned in it while performing the drowning animation; there are no more lives since it took them all, and it returned me to the intro with Mario's head.

The Aftermath

This was originally planned to be in the game. I was searching through the game files on Super Mario 64 with my computer, and here’s what I found—the file name was "Burnt Luigi.fbx" Luigi's model was the same shape as the original Luigi model, but with some textures and polygons missing; there was even a bone in his right arm.

#urban legends #nintendo 64 #super mario 64 #creepypasta #alternative reality game #arg #easter egg #burnt luigi

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rubywithin · 7 months ago

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Scrolls of Mudorius 16

I struggled to sleep that night....one of those men I remember him so clearly. Don trusted him...they travelled all over the place together but then on that day -Flashback- (Don) "UUGH....why? I thought we were frien...d.." (Abeuis Member) "Oh please I simply got close so you would not expect me to be your assassin!". (Don) "VIOLET RUN" that day still haunted me....Don gave me a life away from the group the Deadly Blades and never judged my past. -Sniffle- and then he was betrayed by his own clan because they saw his caring side as weak. When I went downstairs I saw that Kiyen was already planning, I guess this is the dedication of a captain. (Kiyen) "We are going to the Abeuis's turf of Phanzom!" (Violet) "No way...they won't meet with you. I could feel the other squad members anger at my defiance but they don't understand. "I am sorry Commander but they won't work with us on this....especially with me involved!".

(Kiyen) "Violet I sent them a letter and they have agreed to allow the pair of us entry". (Squad Member) "Commander are you sure you two can handle this alone?" he simply nodded. (Violet) "Why would they be willing to let me return?" (Kiyen) "Simple they can't afford to lose their strongest clan members and you are the only member of my squad who can analyse the attacker's methods! Plus I told them about the Disowned and you have first hand experience with a member like me!". No way...would one of the Abeuis members join those guys? (Violet) "I understand Commander but I want nothing to do with my clan especially not Gene!". He was the current leader and I know he orchestrated Don's assassination! -Flashback- (Gene) "Don't get too attached to living her thief girl, the new head is about to arrive". (Violet) "Don't be foolish Don will continue to lead our clan!" (Gene) "I have a suspicion his time in charge is about to end and you won't be around much longer!".

As we travelled past the plains all I could was remember my past, all the battles I fought. The closer we got to Phanzom the more conflicted I felt this was both a place I felt most happy and most miserable! Kiyen looked composed though he himself mentioned being a bandit....I wonder if he has had to face his demons? (Violet) "I was um wondering why you gave up your life as a bandit?" it was a long journey so I was hoping he would open up. (Kiyen) "Same reason you did the second time, Orulumi" I was not expecting that answer. "I fought her one on one despite my best efforts I lost and she told me I didn't have to waste my potential. She then invited me into the Peace Blade's and vouched for me, let's be honest it was rougher for me to join than you because I didn't have a clan name or secret technique". Hehe yeah and that didn't stop him from becoming a Commander. Not only that his own pupil is a temporary Commander and could become one full time!

It's funny how this guy who wears crimson and wields a scythe is starting to become one of my biggest inspiration's in the Peace Blade's. I felt more at ease after hearing his reason for joining the group, (Violet) "Commander Kiyen thank you. When we arrive at Phanzom I will try my best to not let you down!". He thanked me and we continued along the plains till we finally reached our destination! As we entered the town we were greeted by him....(Gene) "Welcome to Phanzom the town of many blade's". I could feel a sense of anger towards me....I know he wanted me dead that day. On the day of Don's death there was a bandit's raid, the only reason I escaped was because of other's having their homes pillaged! Back then I saw at is a calling to return to the bandits but now I feel disgusted. Yet I am sure Gene feels no mercy at all! (Gene) "Now let me show you too your rooms and I thank you for your assistance!". I felt a little paranoid but tried my best to sleep as we had to make our report tomorrow!

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innerdreamercollective · 8 months ago

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🎧🎧 Whispersync Blitz 🎧🎧

M|M Sports Romance Fans! I have an Audiobook Deal for you!!!

WTF (Westbrook Elite) by @cambriahebertbooks

Narrated by Evan Henderson & @michaelnormanjohnson

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Blurb:

I don’t do commitment. And though I swing both ways, I don’t do men either.

It’s too messy, too stressful, and just asking for trouble.

I’d rather shine bright like the sun than drown in the rain, so I adopt a pounce-and-bounce lifestyle for which my sparkling charm keeps me from being hated.

When I show up in Sweden for a semester abroad, I expect a roomie. What I don’t expect is Lars. The storm to my sun. The test of my patience. How easy he makes it to forget all my reasons for staying away from guys.

No big deal. I’ll just pivot from pounce and bounce to roomies with benefits. I’ll get to indulge in that side of me, then leave it half a world away. What happens in Sweden stays in Sweden… until he follows me home.

Lars shows up at Westbrook looking like my little brother’s new swim bro. Just as alluring as he did before.

And all I can do is ask myself, WTF?

My resolve for an uncomplicated, stress-free life isn’t something I’m willing to give up for anyone, even if his icy-blond hair begs for my fingers and those pale-blue eyes are haunted by shadows.

I might be the sun, but I am not his sun, and it’s not my job to chase away whatever sent him running here. He swears it isn’t me. But I’m calling bullshit. Why else would he show up on my turf?

But then shit starts happening, and the shadows in his eyes turn to panic. I catch a glimpse of the bruises on his creamy, flawless skin.

I can’t keep him at arm’s length anymore. I don’t want to. Protecting him means surrendering to everything I always refused. His destruction or mine.

The choice is simple, so achingly absolute that I can’t help but wonder once more…

WTF?

#NewRelease #NowLive #WhispersyncBlitz #PinkFlamingoProductions #TheFlockonTour #WTFAudioTour #CambriaHebert #EvanHenderson #MichaelNormanJohnson #SportsRomance #MMRomance #ContemporaryRomance

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romancereadingdiva · 2 years ago

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WTF by Cambria Hebert

WTF won my heart! 👑👑👑👑👑 [5/5]

My heart broke for Win and Lars, and I hoped it would be put back together by the end. My heart felt for Lars, and I wanted to hold and protect him just like Win did. My heart understood why Win was afraid to love, but I loved that when he decided he was in that he was all in. Win’s love was fierce, but Lars was willing to do anything to protect Win. They were fire when they were together! They also just fit together, and they won my heart forevermore. Another wonderful book from this series and this author; I highly recommend this book and series!

*Read through Kindle Unlimited.

▪️Blurb:

I don’t do commitment. And though I swing both ways, I don’t do men either. It’s too messy, too stressful, and just asking for trouble. I’d rather shine bright like the sun than drown in the rain, so I adopt a pounce-and-bounce lifestyle for which my sparkling charm keeps me from being hated. When I show up in Sweden for a semester abroad, I expect a roomie. What I don’t expect is Lars. The storm to my sun. The test of my patience. How easy he makes it to forget all my reasons for staying away from guys. No big deal. I’ll just pivot from pounce and bounce to roomies with benefits. I’ll get to indulge in that side of me, then leave it half a world away. What happens in Sweden stays in Sweden… until he follows me home. Lars shows up at Westbrook looking like my little brother’s new swim bro. Just as alluring as he did before. And all I can do is ask myself, WTF? My resolve for an uncomplicated, stress-free life isn’t something I’m willing to give up for anyone, even if his icy-blond hair begs for my fingers and those pale-blue eyes are haunted by shadows. I might be the sun, but I am not his sun, and it’s not my job to chase away whatever sent him running here. He swears it isn’t me. But I’m calling bullshit. Why else would he show up on my turf? But then shit starts happening, and the shadows in his eyes turn to panic. I catch a glimpse of the bruises on his creamy, flawless skin. I can’t keep him at arm’s length anymore. I don’t want to. Protecting him means surrendering to everything I always refused. His destruction or mine. The choice is simple, so achingly absolute that I can’t help but wonder once more… WTF? Please note that WTF contains stalking and domestic abuse (not between the main characters). There is also mention of (off-page) parental death. Some readers may find these things uncomfortable.

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https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/123223862-wtf

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runephoenix6769 · 1 year ago

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Some of your points are correct but... A maid from the 1920/1930'S having a dalliance with a male employer was 10 a penny back then. It was not criminal, and neither of them would have ''died'' for it. What happened back then? Its a tale as old as time, the rich male employer sold her the moon and stars, possibly dangled the opportunity of being socially upwardly mobile to get what he wanted. (this happened often in stately homes.) When Ada got pregnant... it was easier for him to murder her in cold blood than take responsibility for his illegitimate child by either shotgun marriage OR shipping Ada off elsewhere and providing for her privately. OR turfing Ada out of the stately manor, therefore losing her position, and ability to provide for herself. All three options have legitimately happened in the past. Why not take the last option? He was scared how it would tarnish his reputation, and/or marriage prospects, OR it was a legit affair. that would also tarnish his reputation. He was never in any danger of being killed, but Ada was as soon as she announced she was pregnant. Ada is the one carrying most of the risk here. If she had been turfed out of her job, she would have no prospects as other houses as a rule did not take on maids who had ''brought themselves low'', they were treated with awful stigma of being an unwed mother, or wanton, or lustful or any other number of nasty aggressions society has levied on women over the centuries. Housemaids tended no to be very well educated either. She was looking at a very tough future. He never had any intention of doing right by her, hence him murdering her brutally. One of the creation myths of Banshees are; a woman is murdered by her lover, n he gets away with it. They then haunt the descendants/bloodline of the murderer who was never brought to justice. Its why they are so notoriously bad to appease further down the line as usually the murderer has already died, so justice cannot be served.

okay but like the small glimpse we get of Ada's backstory explains A Lot of her behavior actually.

because if someone were to stumble upon a man of his status with a maid, it would not only tarnish his family name, but lead to both of their deaths. So she has no choice but to blend in with the wealthy. This is why she now:

flocks to Annabel right off the bat. It shows how quick she can bond with those different than her — in status and in wealth — by 1) sugaring them up ("Just look at my pretty friend!~" / "You seem like a good leader, someone to rally behind. Like a queen!") and then 2) trying to form a connection, something to relate to ("Being that we're...sort of the same person." / "It would be best to have friends to help one another through the tough times, you know?") to hide to fact that she isn't coming from the same background as them.

(unintentionally or not, she uses this exact same technique on Lenore in episode 37 ("I really like your blazer. Maybe we could trade blazers! Just for a day" / "I wanted to matter the most to someone. To anyone") despite seeming genuine. This either implies that this is the only way she knows how to make friends, or she subconsciously views Lenore as someone of a higher status than her.)

tries to placate Montressor by fulfilling each and every one of his whims. Though he may have not been wealthy when he was alive, he holds power in Nevermore, and that marks him as someone Ada doesn't want to displease. Even when he practically demands her to bark, she does not disobey. It's also worth noting the emphasis she puts on being "loyal to the end."

attaches herself to Prospero, as he seems to come from the same background her lover does — it was never out of love for HIM, but out of how utterly devoted she was to this man. This devotion and overall situation can parallel Annabel's, with how they both have followed someone they loved above all else (someone who reminded her of him, in Ada's case) into the after life.

TLDR: the reason why Ada comes off as so whiny and stuck up at first is because she's observed this behavior from people she had to blend in with (i.e. the wealthy) to prevent both her and her lovers deaths.

#ada nevermore #nevermore webtoon #lenore nevermore #annabel lee nevermore

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corpsebasil · 4 years ago

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Easily Replaced | part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Kaz Rietveld didn't need a reason.

You knew this, of course, as you always had, but it was most clear the day you, Jordie, and Kaz stepped foot into Ketterdam. The two brothers were, as long as you’d known them, ambitious. Ketterdam would fuel that ambition.

"For you, Sankta." Jordie Rietveld laughed, and covered your eyes with his hands.

He was thirteen—much too old for you, as you were only eight, and though you were teased back in southern Kerch for hanging around with him so much Jordie was something like a brother to you. Your own parents were gone—your mother a woman who died too young and your father a mystery.

"I thought you were getting me food." Kaz scoffed, plucking the wrapped omelette out of your hands before you even had a moment to see it.

"Kaz!" You shrieked as you tore out of Jordie's grasp, lunging for the food, but Kaz simply laughed in return, looping his arm around your shoulders and tugging you along, sharing the omelette between them.

The omelette stands in Ketterdam were Kaz and your favorites.

"(Y/N), wait." Jordie called and you paused, turning to glance over at him. His expression was wide and happy—the happiest he'd been in a long time, since he and Kaz's father had died. "Welcome home." He said, and you smiled.

"WAIT!" You yelped, lurching into sitting position so fast your head spun.

He was there, you thought, still blinking away the image of Jordie from behind your eyes.

Your heart raced and your eyes stung as you stood, scanning the streets several stories below you. You’d fallen asleep on the window pane after sneaking into your room at the Slat—if Kaz wanted you gone that night, you’d be gone by morning just to spite him. If only so you had more time to snoop around.

You weren’t expecting the dreams again.

You wiped your hands over your face and sighed, blinking away the remnants of sleep and forcing Jordie to the back of your mind. Jordie Rietveld would always stay in the very back of your mind, in the dregs; you’d think about him only during your last breath, and wouldn't let yourself do it one moment before then.

You crept out of your room and glanced around its interior once more, hefting your satchel over your shoulder. You’d miss this place—you’d miss Ketterdam, but if leaving helped keep certain memories at bay and kept a certain someone from bashing your head in it was worth the risk.

Your feet were silent when you finally dropped to the streets outside and ran, taking back-ally's and fire-escapes and rooftops as you traveled across Ketterdam on a route few knew. Your mask was pulled up and your hood rippled behind you, your shape merely a black speck against the moonless sky.

When you reached the Crow Club you ducked the guards and snuck through a window at the top. If there was anything to be known about the heist for one million kruge the Dregs had been murmuring about, Kaz would know about it. And if you were anything you were vengeful, and you’d get that prize to earn your freedom or you’d die trying.

"The Orchid isn't Dime Lions turf." Kaz's rock salt voice reached you and you paused, one foot sinking into the plush carpet of your old friend's office.

"Well, it's a new acquisition." Another voice purred, and your blood ran cold.

You knew that voice.

That voice had haunted you for years.

"You heard it here first." The voice continued, and you dropped into a crouch, tugging your hood over your head as you crept towards the office.

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

Kaz was being held on his knees by a nondescript man with a sneer on his face while Pekka, Pekka Rollins, clutched Kaz's cane like he owned it. Your stomach rolled as you took in Pekka's face and you barely stopped yourself from gagging.

It was him.

It was the man who killed Jordie.

"Now, I know you saw Dreesen," Pekka continued, oblivious to the assassin hardly ten feet away who was contemplating his inevitable death. "You got the jump on whatever job he has. I don't know the details...obviously, just that you have a little travel hazard ahead of you. So. Here's the deal: you can do nothing—walk away from it. I'll tell Dreesen I'm taking over for you." He paused, a cruel smile on his face. "Then we're even."

"Not even close—" Kaz began, and you tensed. You knew the man holding him, touching him, was causing him agony.

You had to stop it. You had decided long ago that Pekka Rollins' death would be slow. You could make it last for hours—could make blades sing until he was nothing left but a scrap on a table, but something fast might have to do.

"The other option is..." Pekka began, leaning forward to press the beak of Kaz's cane against his jugular, and you lunged. "I'll cave your head in with your own—"

"Let go of him." You snarled and, quick as an asp, had one of your many blades nestled dangerously against Pekka's throat.

Kaz let out a sharp breath and tensed as the man holding him pulled out a gun, pressing it to his temple to balance the odds.

"Sankta Riipka," Pekka mused, seemingly unaffected by the knife against his neck. "it's nice to finally make your aqu—"

"Shut up, pig." You spat and dug the blade in deeper, your eyes snapping up to the man next to Kaz. You felt steel against your head and froze—

—you’d forgotten about the other member of Pekka's trio.

"By the time you kill me," Pekka began, oozing calm that made to your blood boil, "my friend here will shoot your friend. And then you." He made to twist in his chair and you tightened your grip, stilling him. You knew you were drawing blood. "You ought to make the wise decision here, Riipka."

"Let him go." You repeated, heart pounding violently, refusing to look at Kaz even as you felt the gun against the back of your head push harder. "Let him go or I swear on all Saints I'll slit your throat right here."

The room was quiet for several beats before the man holding Kaz shoved him, knocking your friend—was he your friend?—to the floor. You made no move to remove the knife—your chest was tight and your breathing uneven. Jordie's face was flashing behind your eyes and this moment, this moment, killing Pekka, was what you had been waiting for.

You could do it.

Why couldn't you do it?

You could—

"Stop." Kaz breathed and you froze, meeting his stare. His face was serious but his eyes—they were filled with pain. "Just stop."

"You should listen to Mr. Brekker." Pekka crooned and your gritted your teeth, biting back a snarl as you removed the knife and swung, knocking the gun out of the man behind you’s hands.

He threw his arms up and froze but Pekka simply laughed, eyeing you like you were a monkey at a circus. You felt small and, for the first time in a long time, like you were eight years old again, sweating with a burning illness and being sheltered by a widow who had no kids of her own.

You felt like you were eight years old, managing to survive the plague and stumbling down to the docks, half-drunk with a barely broken fever and finding Kaz laying drenched in sea-water on a dock, screaming at you in agony.

It was Pekka's fault.

It was all his—

"No one has to die today, Riipka," Pekka smirked at whatever he saw in your eyes and brushed past, chuckling to his accomplices as they left the office and slammed the door behind them.

The room was silent for several moments before you turned, watching Kaz as he stared at the floor, making no move to stand.

"Let me help you—" you began, reaching out to offer a gloved hand but he jolted, deer-in-headlight-eyes flashing to yours.

"Don't touch me." He snapped, face flushing, and the knot in your throat threatened to burst.

He pushed himself awkwardly to his feet and scrambled for his cane, one hand absently on his leg as he winced. It was terrible to watch—he was strong all the time, and so serious but this...

...this was him broken. And you weren’t sure if you could handle seeing it.

"I should've killed him," you started over, hands trembling as you resisted the urge to reach out to him. You didn't know if you wanted to help or if you just wanted, needed, his touch. "I should've—"

"You should've been gone by now." He swallowed roughly as his cane hit the floor with a thud, eyes snapping back to yours. "I had it handled. We all could've died tonight because of—"

"Don't you dare blame me for—"

"Well if you had just left when I asked—"

"I'm not leaving you!" You shrieked, yanking off your mask and hood so that you could breathe better. "You can boss me around and yell at me and treat me like Jordie was my fault all you want but—"

"I don't think that," he interrupted, his face stricken as he stared at you. "Saints, (Y/N)." You were silent for a moment, both breathing heavily, before he shook his head and turned away. "If you're not going to leave me alone, at least leave the Club. I can't—" he paused, sighing exasperatedly. "I can't deal with this tonight."

Without waiting for a reply he strode out the door and shut it, locking it behind him so you’d have to leave out the window. You waited for several moments until you were sure he was gone, strode over to the spare couch around the corner and screamed into the pillow until your throat hurt.

@iamnoobmaster69 @emil7y @balmasedas @euphoniumpets @subjecta13-thefangirl @itisroe @thefandomplace @ambrosia-v-black @i-padfoot-things @kaitlyn2907

hiii sorry I know this one was kinda angsty but it’s gonna spice up soon HA

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #wattpad #shadow and bone #six of crows #angst #Ketterdam #kanej #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #freddy carter #Jordie Rietveld

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slicesofapple · 3 years ago

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a valentine’s surprise

Oikawa, as often is the case, stays after practice to “work on some things.” They are university players, elite athletes, and no one’s babysitting them. Nor is there any Iwa-chan around anymore to keep Oikawa in line.

So, as soon as the rest of the team has filed out, he grabs the ball cart and starts in on his serves.

It’s Valentine’s day, and Oikawa is glad, also, for an excuse to hide away. He has no interest, today, in fawning fan girls and boys, the ones who throw an inexhaustible supply of chocolates and flowers at him. Gifts which are invariably accompanied by leering smiles, as well as (even worse) expectations for him to reciprocate with thanks and, more than a few have hinted, the promise of a date.

Oikawa shakes his head in frustration. They’ve been all over him lately, pawing at him, snatching his attention, when what he really needs to be focusing on is getting his serve at both 100% power and 100% accuracy. 110% would be better, but he’d settle for the accuracy/power combo at 100% for now.

He’s in his third year of university, and it feels like time is slipping through his fingers. He needs to have a contract before he graduates. The likelihood of getting an offer after that would be much lower, and he definitely doesn’t want to end up in that kind of limbo.

He hasn’t lost hope, however. Interest has been expressed, and from more than one quarter. But in order to transform that interest into an actual contract, he needs that little bit more.

After emptying the cart of balls once, he stops to gather them up again. He’s glad for the respite. His shoulder is aching, and he knows if he doesn’t stop soon, he’ll risk an actual injury. But he can do a few more, at least.

He’s about halfway through the cleanup when a voice behind him calls out, “Do you want help with that?”

Oikawa spins around, startled.

And then freezes.

Kageyama Tobio? Risen from the earth, like a specter, to haunt him?

He forces himself to bends over and continue with his task.

“No, I don’t want help! And what are you doing here, Tobio-chan? Come to spy on me?”

“No.”

Oikawa looks up in time to see the tall figure detach itself from the wall. Oikawa hasn’t seen Tobio-chan in years. Yeah, he knew they would be competing against one another this year, he’d heard that Kageyama had enrolled in a neighboring university. But to see him right here, on Oikawa’s home turf…

It’s a shock.

It’s also something of a shock to find that the lean, lanky player who haunted his last year of high school now looks decidedly different. Even with the tracksuit on, Oikawa can see how he’s filled out, how much broader he is across the shoulders.

He’s also moving with decided purpose as he crosses the gym, having shed the hesitancy he used to display off the court.

“Then why are you here?” asks Oikawa, feeling slightly out of breath, and not from his recent extended workout. He stands up and straightens his own shoulders. He can face-off just fine, thank you very much! It doesn’t matter how big and burly Kageyama has become, Oikawa isn’t intimidated!

When Kageyayma is right in front of Oikawa, he says, “To give you this.”

“To give me what?” asks Oikawa, puzzled. Nothing has been proffered.

Kageyama hesitates the merest fraction of a second, then lifts his hand. There is a rose in it.

Oikawa frowns.

When he makes no move to accept it, Kageyama reaches over, takes his hand (!), and holds it open so he can drop the rose into it. Oikawa is too surprised to stop him. Kageyama closes Oikawa’s fingers around the (luckily thornless) stem and releases his hand.

Oikawa looks from the rose to Kageyama’s face in utter bewilderment.

“And to ask you if you would come to dinner with me,” Kageyama continues, as if it is nothing out of the ordinary for him to drop flowers into other people’s hands and then casually ask them out.

“What? Dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Are you asking me out, Tobio-chan?”

“Yes.”

Oikawa is thoroughly unnerved, even more so than if Kageyama had walked up and punched him in the face.

He stares at Kageyama, who only looks evenly back at him. Wait a minute… Oikawa narrows his eyes. Yes! He can see it! The hint of a challenge in Kageyama’s gaze. He doesn’t think Oikawa will have the balls to accept!

Oikawa’s eyes flare. If Kageyama thinks he can win in this, too, he has another thing coming!

“Of course I’ll go to dinner with you, Tobio-chan! Don’t think you can intimidate me, just because your arms are so muscly now!’

Kageyama brightens. “You noticed my arms?”

“Of course I did – you’ve turned into a gorilla!”

The insult seems to fly right over Kageyama’s head, because he’s smiling, the idiot. “Would you like to change before we leave?” he asks, as though it’s a real question. As though Oikawa is so eager to go out with this knucklehead that he’s going to run out in his sweat-soaked practice clothes, without even brushing his hair.

Double-idiot.

“Yes,” Oikawa says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, “I would like to change.” He adds, firmly, because there’s no telling what this mystery creature before him might do if left undirected, “You wait here.”

As he turns toward the locker room, Oikawa finds that he is humming a merry little tune under his breath. He is also twirling the rose, almost lovingly, in one hand.

He frowns. What’s gotten into him? He’s sick of receiving flowers, right?

Yet… for some reason, he likes this rose.

How surprising.

It has, in fact, been an evening full of surprises.

Good ones, perhaps?

Oikawa looks down at the rose once more. It’s quite a pretty little thing, really. He runs his finger across one delicate petal, so soft to the touch.

Yes, he thinks. Very good ones.

#oikage #oikawa tooru #kageyama tobio #fluff #sweet #bold kageyama tobio #i know it's just supposed to be chocolates but i couldn't resist throwing in the rose #getting together #valentine's day #will post soon on a03 #aged-up characters #not cannon compliant

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singing-wanderer · 3 years ago

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Hello! Is it possible for you to do yandere Grimm?

I’m gonna go with romantic Grimm, if that’s fine! If not, just send in another ask and I’ll get right on it =]

Romantic! Yandere Grimm x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere behavior, obsessive behavior, isolation and manipulation.

So we’re gonna stick with Ghost summoning the troop, and just say that you’re a bug that’s in Dirtmouth when it happens. Be it for a short while or living there, you’re there and you’ve piqued the troupe master’s interest. He watched you wander between the edge of the town and his tent, eyes delighted once you mustered up the courage to enter. One of the only bugs that had ever done that, besides the child of God and Void. To see someone finally step in, to look him in his eyes and accept a dance, well; it was enthralling.

Of course, you might not know that he means he wants to fight you until you’re being pelted by fire, but still. Finally, someone who might actually struggle against him. Although the void creature had died a few times to his hand, it was nothing compared to this. You had something to lose. You had a life to lose. And as much as he was tempted to whisk that flame away and create a nightmare of it, he saw to it you had mercy. The being watched your chest heave with exertion, a meager attempt to catch lost breath. A chuckle shook his chest, almost seem to purr as he closed the distance between the two of you. You could feel the hot air leaving his mouth, ghosting over your mask and shaking you to the core. Though your stance reminded solid, you were fearful. Fearful but determined. Oh, he was intrigued.

“My dear, I know I’ve shocked you with our…dance, but I do hope you return. I haven’t had a waltz like that in quite a long time. My tent shall always remain open to you, as my bedroom.” With a wink, the bat spun and vanished in fire. By Wyrm, what was it with that circus freak and fire? Was it a fetish or?? Shushing your mind, you rushed out and collapsed on the dirt a good distance from the haunted fuckery that was in that tent. Your muscles ached from the fight, and you had to admit: you felt the same. It had been a bit since you had been holed up in Dirtmouth, contemplating venturing down despite the old man’s warnings. There was an entire kingdom down there awaiting you, you just had to go! Everyday you refused yourself, your hand would flinch with the craving of violence or entertainment. Not much passed through this town excluding the dusty wind. (Maybe that’s where the towns name came from?)

A day or two after your fight, Elder Bug stopped coming out of his house. This had actually brought you some worry. Sure he was the only thing keeping you from going down but he still was sweet. Kindest person you had met honestly. Then the letters and dreams- no nightmares- had started. Deep red and flashing pink envelopes would slip into your home, the contents being truly disturbing. Tales of how Grimm had dreamed of you, how he had imagine your life together, and what he was willing to do to make it work. It was terrifying to read, the detailed descriptions he had given of the ways he’d torment all your friends until they’d leave you. Until they’d leave you with him. And how he’d take such good care of you, you’d never be lonely with him around because he’d never leave you alone. You tempted to burn them only to find they turned the fire pink before fading. Almost like a beacon to show him where your home was, despite you knowing deep down that info was already too familiar to him.

It felt like there was no other choice, that this was the only way. Stepping into that dreaded tent again, you felt your spine tingle with anxiety and your stomach weigh heavy in your own body. You almost felt like throwing up. Brumm nodded in solemn greeting, seemingly knowing the situation. Had Grimm done this to others? Had some other bug lived through the hell you’re going through? Knowing this a possibility, it made your blood feel electric. If someone else got through this so could you. “My dear, you’ve returned! How I’ve missed you. I’m assuming you received my letters? All written with love.” His pink eyes squinted towards the end, you could feel his smirk from this side of the room. Fucking theater kid. Of course he was cocky, these were his stomping grounds. It was uneven turf you were playing. The bat already had a fighting advantage, why not give him background knowledge of the terrain too? Even though you were pissed, your vision remained clear enough to notice there was no crowd this time. The stage lights shone onto empty seats, but you felt watched. Even the spirits have it out for you, hm.

“Are you worried by the lack of audience? Not to worry, it’s nothing about your performance. You performed more than exemplary, my love. As a matter of fact, too exemplary. I couldn’t let just any common filth watch you.” Annoyance ate at your nerves and clenched them. If he viewed his own people as common filth, then what the hell did he think of you? Some mystical being or average bug? The troupe leader probably thought of you as entertainment. That sums it perfectly up. The obsession with performance, with dancing. That had to be it. Well, if he wanted a show, he’d get one. You’d been in contact recently with some obsessive charm keeper, collected a couple of nasty things to use against him. Not to mention the recent refining of your skills. There was a pattern with his attacks, something that became obvious after examination. All of them were theatrical and were either dependent on horribly tracking your movement or just hoping to hit you. Weak once discovered, deadly if you fight mindlessly.

This dance went a little more smoothly, a little more feisty. Watching him suffer, after what he put you through, made you feel exhilarated. The edges of his now tattered cloak traced the ground, and he appeared weakened. Despite this however, that same damned smile came rushing back up. Your arms hung loosely by your side; tired. You were so tired. “Wonderful, wonderful! The way my blood rushes…not even the most frightful of nightmares compares to this!” Darkness grazed the corners of your eyes, so inviting. Maybe you wouldn’t have to deal with him after this. Maybe you’d wake up and he’d be gone, and you’d be alone again. “Oh? Resting so early are we? I mind not, I’ll take good care of you,” His voice lowered, “rest easy. I’ll be awaiting you in your dreams.”

Oddly enough, you slept great. Not even a vision or hint at that demonic presence of Grimm. Just memories of your home, places of peace. That lake you had visited, that shop with rain pelting the windows endlessly. It almost pained you to wake up, atop soft, red velvet pillows. You groaned, eyes blearily blinking and trying to shut again. But your mind screamed at you to get up, as your environment was completely different. Coaxing your upper half up you cased the room. This has got to be some sort of sick joke. That same demented red, that accursed flame, the Grimm Troupe Leader hanging from the ceiling and watching you. You stared back, finally realizing why he was so desperate for a second dance.

It was a trap. An endurance test. The freak probably wasn’t even hurt towards the end, not once did he truly stagger. He was wearing you down, waiting until you couldn’t feel your limbs from exhaustion and then pushing you further. A hand traced your face, thumb brushing across it.

“You’re finally home. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my days with you, watching how you move. To see you in the motions of life is the most moving gift of all.”

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saiakv · 5 months ago

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Both of them had heard bits about that name, after his visit to the compound where the monkeys were stalled. Nanako still remembers the concerned that sat on Manami's flawless face ( crinkling her concealer, no doubt ) when Geto-sama pulled her aside to talk in the hallway, where he'd thought they'd be out of the girls' earshot. He kept gesturing a lot while they spoke, his palm constantly held up flat as though to stop his secretary's objections before her thin brows furrowed; 'I'll handle it', Mimiko had read his lips reiterating it. Why had Manami been so worried if that 'Satoru Gojo' had left their turf already?

Mimiko, albeit allegedly the more quiet counterpart to her outspoken sister, had tugged on her skirt that day with an observation; that even though Nanako had spent her morning carefully tucking each strand into the trademark half updo, Geto-sama had his hair loose and ruffled.

From that day on, the girls would catch him hovering on the porch with the phone in one hand and the kiseru in the other; cook with it wedged between shoulder and ear, bite a smile over its screen while some follower bothered him in the hallway. Subtle, duly noted things that flew over both their heads at the time; the only protest had come when he'd started sleeping elsewhere, but eventually, the girls got used to that too. Geto-sama always came back, after all, always picked up his phone, even though he kept his voice hushed when he was out. And he seemed to smile more, to be in a better mood, even around irksome followers. Then he announced that he wouldn't be home for Christma's Eve; and by that point the twins concluded the obvious — he had found a girlfriend.

They had quieted down shortly after piecing that part together. Eventually, Nanako even begun to think she may like to meet that woman one day, make friends with her — go out for girl's nights with Manami and Geto-sama's girlfriend after taking three hours to get ready, like in the American movies. She'd thought the time would come, at some point, even started asking about that mysterious figure that kept spamming his phone while they were having dinner. And, of course, Geto-sama always found a way to evade direct answers.

'What does your girlfriend look like?' ' Mm... probably, a cat. ' He laughed. ' Yes, a cat. A big white fluffy one that likes to lounge about, like Wasabi.'

As they both sat on their knees atop the cool bathroom floor, atching Satoru Gojo hold him now, the bits and pieces of those scattered references suddenly begun to connect and shape the reality of what had been going on behind their backs. The familiarity with which he unveiled each limb from the garments spoke of intimacy; the complete lack of reaction from the half-conscious curse user at his mercy even more so. That suspicious man's energy was bright and all-encompassing, reminding the twins of white neon lamps with the soft buzz his technique filled the space with. But Geto-sama was only humming contently under that white noise, seemingly lost in some dream that had his fingers twitching.

❛ Did— did Geto-sama eat that? ❜

❛ It sounds dangerous. ❜ An even-toned mumble from Mimiko's way.

Nanako's eye twitched over the crouched man as her thoughts centered back on the scene unfolding before her, a look of shock betraying her revelation. Mimiko was not quite as reactive, hovering over the two with a haunting deadpan, instead. Following her sister's cue, her eyes trailed to the stranger in tandem and her mouth twitched as though she telepathetically came to the same conclusion as Nanako had before. Her sister affirmed it with a nod towards him. This was the girlfriend.

As Satoru Gojo worked to dry and change their patron into warm, dry robes, Nanako's expression momentarily contorted with that dissilusionment. But she mellowed again upon the image of her benefactor looking comfortably asleep. Though, it was clear that there was something off. The curse the strongest sorcerer mentioned...wouldn't it have left residuals if its after effects were still present? Geto-sama had never fallen ill from ingesting spirits before, but this time he looked physically ill. As Mimiko bent over beside their guest and brushed some sticky wet hair away from his features, the man let out a soft hum.

❛ He's very warm. Please let us give you a dry change of clothing as well, Gojo-san. ❜

❛ Ah, Mimiko. ❜ Comes the immediate protest — Nanako drags her sister aside to whisper yell that they don't know what part this man played in this whole ordeal yet, but Mimiko is just as quick to respond with a softly commanding; ❛ We need a way to carry him to bed. ❜

Some time later the two had brought an extra towel, as well as a change of robes from Suguru's own closet — there was tea brewing in the kitchen and rice in the cooker. And somewhere along the times that the twins went back and forth from kitchen to bedroom to bathroom ( never quite allowing the turmoiled duo some much needed privacy ) thick lashes finally flickered open and Suguru begun to shift and let out a groggy groan before stirring awake and rolling out of bed to head to the bathroom on his own. There was an urgency in the way he ignored any offers for help and locked the door behind him, only for a chaotic arrangement of ungodly noises and repeated flushing to follow.

#limitlessscion #( detective nanako in action )#꧕ 🇸‌🇺‌🇳‌ 🇼‌🇺‌🇰‌🇴‌🇳‌🇬‌'🇸‌ 🇵‌🇺‌🇳‌🇮‌🇸‌🇭‌🇲‌🇪‌🇳‌🇹‌ ꒰ ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ 001 ꒱#ఇ 🇫‌🇦‌🇲‌🇮‌🇱‌🇮‌🇦‌🇷‌ 🇹‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌ 🇴‌🇫‌ 🇵‌🇴‌🇮‌🇸‌🇴‌🇳‌ ♥︎ ꒰ ft. limitlesscion ꒱

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finiteuniverse13 · 4 years ago

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home is people, not a place 1/?

A/N: This has been published on AO3, but I was inspired to put these on here!

Summary: Clay gets attacked on base. DEVGRU finds an issue in that.

TW: Blood mention, physical assault, canon typical violence

Tag: @rebelwrites @chibsytelford @bravo-four-seal-team @velvetcardiganbucky @supervalcsi @abby-splace @itsonautopilot @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @pinkrockstar19 @softi92 @mrsmarvelous1995 @jayhalsteadfan-2417

Clay Spencer is rarely off his guard. It’s a hazard to himself and the people around him if he’s not alert. But being on guard all the time is exhausting. That’s why he had his eyes closed in the cage room, cage door ajar and his head leant against his locker. He’d just got back from being spun out with Bravo, a weeklong mission that had meant he’d had to stay awake in 20-hour stints, constantly watching a target house for a man who’d only arrived on the sixth day they’d been there. He’d been in the cage room for around an hour, about 15 minutes after Trent had finished sorting his supplies and gone home, a grumbled order to follow in his footsteps as Trent leaves, looking as bad as Clay did. There was a good chance that Bravo team would sleep for about 25 straight hours.

That’s why – he’d reason to himself in the following months – he hadn’t looked up when the door opened. Why he hadn’t greeted them, because it could be Bravo, Blackburn, Davis, their support team, all have access to the room. His cage is unlocked (why would it be locked? He's on base, home turf, in a restricted access building), so they get the drop on him. The four of them, green team rookies who probably haven’t even met a Tier One operator before, walk in quietly. Clay doesn’t look up, doesn’t question them. He doesn’t see their faces, their names, or the bat that one of them holds. He has his back turned to them, slowly squaring away his bag with the air of someone who needed downtime. He doesn’t see the bat coming, doesn’t have the time to shout out in pain before he’s on the floor.

They drag him into the threshold of his cage, and one of them puts a foot on his chest – right above his pounding heart, ready to burst out of his chest from the adrenaline beginning to pour into him – and two more pairs of hands come down to restrain his arms. His legs kick out uselessly, between the foot pressing down – ow ow ow ow – on his chest and the hands digging into the flesh of his arm, he can’t fight them off. He can only watch through blurry vision, struggling and restrained, as the wooden bat descends onto his chest, right on one of his ribs. The pained groan that echoes out makes one of them laugh and Clay knows that the laugh is going to haunt his dreams.

Clay’s eyesight blacks out and his consciousness leaves him, taking him to a place where he can’t feel his nose break, or the bruises forming on his exhausted body.

Eric Blackburn knows he is only slightly better off than his team, not that he knows the state of his rookie – of course. Blackburn leaves his debrief, having reported Bravo’s AARs and answered questions until he was dismissed. He can practically feel his bed – and his wife – calling him home. As he leaves the office, he decides to check the cage room. Bravo had looked, for lack of a better word, dead on their feet; and he wouldn’t put it past any of his idiots operators to either curl into a ball on the cage floor or hang a hammock so they could sleep at the base. They were going to give him grey hairs, the lot of them.

He pushes the wooden door open and walks in, blearily looking through the darkness over to the cages, trying to see if there are any hammocks hanging. When he sees none, he rubs at his sore eyes and lets his tired gaze fall to the floor. His eye catches on a shiny patch on the floor, and he fumbles for the light switch on the wall for a few seconds before he manages to find it, figuring that he’d at most need to call for someone to clear whatever Clay had spilt in front of his-

Oh god. Oh god. No no no no no no. Bravo Six lies on the floor of his cage. His head and shoulders both lie past the threshold. His head lies in a puddle of blood, with his face turned away from Eric.

It’s 2am, and god knows when this happened. Any way that Eric mentally spins this, there’s no good outcome. Something happened to Clay while the team wasn’t there. Eric runs the mere feet to where Clay is facing, and what greets him is, put simply, pain. Blood dribbles out of a very broken nose, and a forming bruise spans most of Clay’s jaw, and that’s just what Eric can see. He’s certain that there’s more beneath Clay’s shirt. He falls to his knees in front of Clay’s slack face, his knees breaking the surface tension of the puddle of blood, and he doesn’t pay it any mind, even as it stains his trousers. His hands find their way to Clay’s face, and a tiny bit of tension leeches from his body when he finds the skin warm.

“Clay? Clay! Bravo Six!” His voice increases steadily in volume, as Clay doesn’t show any sign of responding or so much as registering that his commanding officer is trying to wake up please god Clay wake up get his attention. Eric pulls out his phone, thanking something above that he’d remembered to pick it up as he left Bravo’s briefing room. He dials 911 and he ignores the blood staining his fingertips, and his screen, and his trousers, and his skin, and the floor and and and, giving the operator who answers him all the information that he can think of – rattling off his service number and Clay’s, telling the man that he was on a military base, that they needed an ambulance, that Clay had a concussion, that he had already bled a lot. The operator told him that the ambulance would arrive in about 10 minutes. Eric hung up the phone without thinking too much about it.

Alpha Five, a middle eastern man named Jordan Frazier, walks past the open door, and double-takes in a way that Eric would have found comical if not for the fact that he’s kneeling in a puddle of his rookie’s blood. Eric’s eyes bore into Frazier and he barks out an order – praying that Alpha’s operators responded better to the chain of command then his own team did.

“Go to the entrance and direct the ambulance.”. Frazier gets halfway through a salute before processing that there were more important matters at hand then paying due respect to Eric. Eric’s gaze looks back down to Clay, to his unmoving, unflinching face. Eric’s hand moves down to Clay’s jugular, feeling Clay’s heartbeat. Even though it is weaker than Eric would like, Eric hangs to the feeling, to the knowledge that his annoying as hell brother, son, nephew mix that he wouldn't replace if you held a gun to his head operator is still alive.

“Bravo Six! Blondie! Sunshine!” He tries the nicknames that he’s overheard Bravo calling him, praying that something will get Clay to wake up.

Time passes in a paradox, both slow and fast, as Eric continues trying to rouse Clay. He looks up when he hears a noise in the doorframe, and tension bleeds from his body when a paramedic bursts through the door, a gurney trailing him. Frazier helps the other paramedic get the gurney through the door, and he’s followed in by Alpha Two.

The paramedics assess that Clay is okay for transport and that their biggest concern is his headwound. Eric is instructed to hold gauze against the back of Clay’s head, where the bleeding is concentrated and he doesn’t think about how the blood, Clay’s blood, there’s so much blood, on his hands stains the outside of the gauze. When the paramedics get him atop a backboard, it’s all Eric can do to keep the pressure on the wound as Derek, Jordan and the two paramedics all lift the board onto the gurney.

Derek and Jordan step away, letting the trio start making their way towards the base’s entrance where the ambulance is parked. A silent communication passes between them, and they storm out in sync, looking for the rest of Alpha. Someone did this to Bravo’s rookie. Clay may be Bravo’s rookie, but he was Tier One’s kid. They've all seen him work, all given him pointers, all taken and given advice. They've seen Bravo take the kid - and he is a kid, the youngest Tier One operator in history - under their wing, and that means that Tier One took him under his wing. Thanks to Clay’s knowledge of languages, there wasn’t a Tier One team who hadn’t utilised the kid’s skills. Some punks on base had hurt their kid. A fellow sailor had hurt their kid.

As they’ve gathered Alpha, they run across Delta, who have finished a couple of late-night rounds in the shootout house. Delta One, a formidable man named Tyler Jaramillo, or TJ, takes one look at the stormy faces of Alpha and draws some speedy assumptions.

“Clay?” Behind TJ, Delta perks up, looking away from where they’re ribbing each other.

“Somebody attacked him in the Bravo cages.” Full Metal isn’t one to beat around the bush, especially when their kid is involved. Delta matches Alpha, anger burning and knuckles whitening. The cages are sacred, a place where sailors can decompress in a place that is solely their own. And someone had gone into that room, had attacked one of their own, had hurt him so bad that his commanding officer had needed to call him an ambulance.

“We need to find who did it.” This is a given, but it gives the teams something to focus on. Alpha and Delta both splinter off in their operating pairs, with the intention of finding somebody who had blood on their uniform.

Alpha and Delta’s 2ICs pair up to make their way over to the security room where the cameras are. While the room is unmanned – it’s a base full of sailors trained by millions of taxpayer dollars, why do they need an on-duty security guard – they know how to access the footage. TJ and Metal stay behind to inform Bravo of the situation, on the off chance that Blackburn hadn’t called Jason yet.

Metal makes the call to Jason, and Jason picks up the phone with a tone of irritation, and Metal can hear Jason picking up his car keys before Metal even gets the chance to start speaking. Jason cuts of whatever Metal was about to say – “I know about Clay, I’m going to the hospital right now, and I’m about to call the rest of Bravo.” The dial tone rings out before Metal can get a word in edgeways, not that he needed to anyway.

TJ pulls his phone out of his back pocket, shooting a text to the group chat that has the Tier One Master Chiefs and 2ICs in it. Spenser was attacked in the Bravo cages. Delta and Alpha on base. Finding who did it.

Metal’s phone buzzes from where he’s putting it in his pocket, but since he watched TJ send the message, he doesn’t bother checking it. They make their way over to their 2ICs in the hope that they’ve found who hurt their rookie.

Sped-up footage of the hallway shows four Green Team trainees entering the room, leaving 10 minutes later, and then Blackburn checking in about 5 minutes after they’d left. The footage is stopped as Jordan entered the frame, a still of his confused face. Derek rewinds it back to the trainees entering the room and manages to get three non-blurred pictures of the trainees, the other one is looking down at the bat he is holding, meaning that they can’t get a good angle of it. TJ and Metal take pictures of the three they manage to get, sending it to their respective groups in the hopes that the images will help to flush out the fourth.

#seal team #eric blackburn #clay spenser #brock reynolds #trent sawyer #ray perry #jason hayes #sonny quinn #seal team fanfic #seal team cbs #ocs #fanfic #angst #brothers #they're family your honor #scott carter #full metal

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