#work-advised rivals time .. see it all makes sense i swear ..

[xxplastic-cubexx]

brother just texted me a screenshot of what mr fantastic's gonna look like in rivals and said 'they keep giving everyone beards' like he KNOWS ima be pissed

[otonymous]

A Bolt From The Blue (MLQC Shaw - NSFW) - Part I: A Matter Of Convenience

Description: An extraordinary man arrives to shake up your ordinary life Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language & mature themes — reader discretion is advised.  Potential trigger warnings: robberies and mentions of firearms, physical violence, mild depictions of bodily injury, blood and masturbation, profanity Word Count: 1650 words (~8 mins of action, drama and the start of a slow burn 🔥)  Author’s Notes: This multi-chapter fic is dedicated to the lovely @op-peccatori​​​, one of the winners of my Follower Milestone Celebration!  Thank you so much, Nana, for requesting a mafia AU story starring everyone’s favourite lavender-haired man 😆 This is actually my first time writing an AU fic, and the experience thus far has been incredibly eye-opening and lots of fun!

For this piece, I wanted to localize the AU to better fit the world of MLQC, so instead of using a traditional mafia setting, the events take place in the milieu of the triads and “black societies” that are more likely to be found in corresponding parts of the world.  For those who are interested, Wikipedia has an incredibly comprehensive article on triads and organized crime.

This piece turned out to be much longer than I anticipated and is still ongoing as of the time of this post!  That being said, I hope you’ll join me on this wild ride 😂 As always, wishing you all a very happy read 😊

Jump to Chapter(s): Two | Three | Four

“Put the money in the bag and no one gets hurt.”

A black duffel bag is thrust onto the counter before you, panels wide open like a gaping maw.  You look up at the man in the bomber jacket and the only things you can process are:

One: his nostrils are flaring.

Two: why bother trying to be nondescript by dressing in all black if you’re going to leave your face uncovered during a robbery?

“I ain’t playin’ around, little girl.  Put the goddamn money in the bag right now or else I’ll shoot—”

WHACK!

The man’s eyes widen in the split second before his face crumples, teeth yellowed and uneven protruding in an ugly grimace.  His hand flies to his head, trying to stem the blood already streaking down his face when he collapses onto the counter, taking out a display of collectible miniature keychains next to the register as he does.  They scatter, some rolling across the floor before being stopped by a pair of purple Chuck Taylors tapping out an impatient rhythm on the linoleum.

You look up from those sneakers in a daze, eyes following the silhouette of a pair of jeans so worn in places you doubted the rips and tears were purely for aesthetic purposes.  And if you’d had to guess, you’d say that purple was your saviour’s favourite colour, given the lavender hair that fell over his eyes the moment he pulled back the hood of his sweatshirt, also in a shade of violet.  His other hand — clad in a fingerless leather glove — gripped the skateboard that had just connected with the head of the would-be robber, still groaning before you.

Pop!

You startle at the sound, heart slowing only when you see the pink bubble deflating between the young man’s lips before the gum is pulled back by the tip of his tongue.  And from where you stood — glued to the spot behind the counter — you swear you can detect the hint of cinnamon.  

He crouches, picking up the gun that had slid out of the thief’s hand when he was unceremoniously hit from behind, and when he chuckles — the sound dangerous and cocksure — it ignites something deep within you.

“Tsk, tsk.  Can’t very well go around robbing people with toys guns, now can you?  Especially not on my turf.  Piece of advice: don’t mess with Boss Li’s territory or else I’ll be doing more than just breaking your head the next time around.  Don’t let me catch you here again.”  

Letting out a pathetic whimper, the robber snatches the empty bag from the counter, running for the doors in such haste he almost trips over his own feet.  The electronic refrains of the door chime still ring in your ears when you realize the man has already made his way to the beverage dispenser, one long finger pressing the Pepsi button before switching to Coke, both drinks mixing in the same paper cup.

Smoothly stepping over the mess on the floor, he places the drink on the counter right next to a smear of blood.  Mind still reeling, your customer service instincts take over.

“H-hello.  Just this?”  

He nods, popping a purple straw through the plastic lid before fixing you with his amber eyes as he pays, a hint of a smirk on his face.  And that is when it hits you that he is actually…actually…

…incredibly gorgeous.

An intense wave of heat washes over your face and you can’t help but look down.  By the time you’ve worked up the courage to lift your head again, he is already at the door, merging with the dark night beyond.  He throws up one hand in goodbye, not even bothering to look back when he says, “Relax.  That guy won’t be bothering you again.”

You hear his skateboard hit the pavement, listen to it rolling away.  Only when the sound completely fades do you remember to breathe.

There was a certain tranquility in working late-night shifts at the 24-hour convenience store — aisles empty save for the occasional customer breaking the monotony: high-strung lovers grabbing last-minute condoms and overworked salarymen buying the beer and discounted meals they subsisted on.

And though your coworkers complained bitterly about the graveyard shift, they were more than happy to pass them on to you, making up every excuse as to why they were unable to show up during those times.  It was unnecessary, really.  You didn’t mind it, even preferred the solitary calm it afforded.

Until now.

Your peace has been shattered, replaced by something that made your hands ball into nervous fists — fingers gripping at the hem of your polyester uniform and wondering for the first time ever whether blue stripes made you look ridiculous.

Because for the first time in a very long while, there was something, someone, to look forward to.

Night after night, it’s the same.  Repeated glances at the clock above the magazine rack, your breath growing shallow to see it approach 1:30.  Heart leaping into your throat to hear the automatic doors slide open followed by the scuff of purple sneakers, tracing a path through the store.

Since the night of that foiled robbery attempt a month ago, he has visited like clockwork and you still haven’t figured out how to remain calm.  So you find contentment from behind the safety of the counter, watching the man with lavender hair — soft, even when lit beneath a harsh fluorescent glare as he stands at the drink dispenser, always filling a cup with Pepsi first, then Coke.

Only ever buying the same thing every time.

This strange ritual lasts all of ten minutes, fifteen at most.  And it takes just as long after he leaves for the hairs of your body to cease standing on end, as if electrified by the intensity of his eyes on yours.  

That gaze of molten gold stays with you even when you return home in the early morning hours, pulling blackout curtains across your window before falling into bed to pretend your hands were his: tracing the outline of your lips, caressing the swell of your breasts, dipping between your legs.

And when your breath falters in a quick succession of shudders, you wonder at your own sanity.  Because in spite of your suspicions about the guy with the purple hair, the warning signs that pointed to his obvious involvement with the triads that extorted money from local businesses as ‘protection fees,’ you still couldn’t help but think about the man who visited you every night without fail.

“You’re hurt—”

“I-I’m fine.  Just…just ring this up, will ya?  I’m…in a rush…”

One arm crossed over his abdomen, he places the cup onto the counter as if it took all the concentration in the world — his efforts squandered anyways when his hand spasms at the last minute to send dark liquid sloshing over the lip.  He hadn’t even bothered to put a lid on.

“…Emergency responders have just arrived on scene and are dealing with scores of injuries.  Eyewitnesses describe what appears to have been a violent clash between rival gangs in a longstanding feud over contested territory.  The police are seeking help from the public in locating several key suspects believed to have fled the scene.  Please do not approach them under any circumstances as they are considered armed and dangerous…”

The news anchor’s face on the wall-mounted television is replaced by another: that of a youthful man with lavender hair and multiple piercings on his ears — challenge exuding from amber eyes.  You scramble for the remote on the shelf behind you, mashing the power button until the screen goes black.  And in the eerie silence that descends upon the store, all you can focus on is the laboured breathing of the man slouched before you.

Skin pale, beads of sweat dot a face drained of colour save for the crimson protrusion above his left eye — soon set to transform, ironically, into his favourite shade of purple.  He tries to suppress a cough but it is too late: you’ve already caught sight of the blood spreading out from beneath the palm pressed to his stomach.

“It’s on me tonight.”

The words leave your lips without second thought as you make for the storefront, flipping the light switch even as you reach to turn the lock on the automatic doors.

“No, don’t…don’t get yourself involved…”

Ignoring his protests, you gingerly place his arm over your shoulder, doing your best to support his weight as you make an awkward attempt to hobble together towards the back of the store.

Suddenly, the darkened interior is lit by flashes of red and blue and you are pulled in the direction of the nearest pillar, a strong arm flexed as it tenses around your waist, holding you to him in an intimate embrace.

He is close…so close that your senses are flooded with him: the heartbeat thunderous in your ear, leather and sweat tickling your nostrils; the scent of blood thick enough you can almost taste it on your tongue.  The hand on your hip — grip firm in a way it almost seemed possessive, and you are ashamed to find that you can become aroused even in a situation like this.

When you finally gather the courage to look up at his face — seeking a sign in the tension dissolving from the firm set of his jaw that the police cruiser had passed — you are shocked to see his pale lips stretched into a smirk instead.

“You know...I’ve been coming here every day…for weeks now…and this is the most you’ve ever said to me.”

He is still smiling when he passes out.

Thanks so much for reading!  Hope you all enjoyed it and please stay tuned for part 2!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

(Updated): Jump to Chapter(s): Two | Three | Four

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

Now safely headed home and rescued the hostages, Soap discovers something from the four corners of the infirmary. It's basically a chapter that happened inside the infirmary. Yeah.

Previous Chapter : Alex - Dé jàvu

Chapter 5 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

"Reunited"

John 'Soap' MacTavish

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 Base - Infirmary

Soap grunted at the initial moment he felt consciousness. The faint tune of the radio started to fill his ears followed by soft hushes from within the room.

If I lay here… If I just lay here…

Sharp pain struck his abdomen as he tried to get up, making him wince ang grunt loud enough that the two ladies beside him noticed. He shot a pained glare at them and breathed heavily.

"Look who finally decided to get up." The pale brunette greeted him with a soft smile. This was Samantha, the Daughter of America's Head of Defense, she really looked different from her photos from the briefing and Soap thought maybe it's the continuous days of being unconscious draining her out.

"Hm." Soap muttered as he laid back on his bed. He wasn't strong enough to fully get up yet and it frustrated him that he let out a heavy sigh. He rolled his eyes to France who was giggled beside him. Guess she found his misery satisfying.

"What's funny?" he finally gave in and asked.

"Oh nothing. It's just no matter how fast we ran the bullets will always be faster, huh?" she joked, but there was a hint of grief on her tone, something Soap knew and realized just then. It was unfair, it was the harsh reality. They were both considered fit for those conditions but they were the ones who sustained most injuries.

"Heh." Soap chuckled and leaned to face Maxine. She had a few stitches on her forehead an bandages wrapped most of her arm. Her smile was warm and welcoming, but Soap knew what's hidden underneath. Samantha wore the same smile but hers was just happy to be away from her captors.

"So I assume your British, like the rest of the people here?" Samantha asked Soap.

"What made you ask that?" He replied, curious as to her assumptions.

"You sound different than the doctors and nurses around here. I was just curious." She replied almost intimidated.

"Don't mind him, Samantha. He's just grumpy he got injured because he thinks he's so good at everything." France mocked and they both giggled.

"So you two got something going on? I may have lost my memory but not my senses." She winked. France fell silent and Soap immediately replied.

"It's Scottish, Maam and no. We do not have something. If anything it's rivals. She wants to be better than me."

"Oh. I knew that accent stands out among the others!" she mused. Soap turned his attention to the glass window as Alex and General Shepherd passed by discussing something. Samantha caught up with his behavior and looked as well.

"Shit!" She cursed, loud enough to get the two's attention.

"What's wrong?" France asked, holding her arm.

"That guy… his face… looked familiar." she whispered, her hands covered her hands almost scared. 

"Oh him? General Shepherd. Basically our boss. Why, you met him?" France replied calmly.

"No.. those arm tattooes. I swear I saw those before… they're very familiar." she spoke softly. Soap and France turned to each other and nodded, agreeing not to force her too much on remembering things.

"Arm tattoes are the new thing now. I could get one myself anytime you know." Soap informed, trying to divert attention.

"Really? It won't look good on you. You got noodle arms." France retorted, mocking the Scotsman. This seemed to work as Samantha turned to them and laughed.

"You two are the worst liars." she giggled. Soap didn't mind this but he was glad that Samantha was okay.

Time passed by and Soap continued conversing to the two ladies, sharing thoughts and ideas on each other. For someone who's memory had been played with, Samantha recalls quite well. Her descriptions were very detailed up to the last dot. Soap wondered why this was the case and decided to consult Alex when he had the chance.

When it comes to talking, the girls really took their time, they were discussing a lot of things and Soap wasn't able to catch up with them.

"So, Why France? Is it because of the city?" Samantha asked. Soap gulped as he knew it would be asked to him next.

"It's actually short for Francine." She smiled, Soap just stared at her. 

"What about you, tough guy?" Samantha asked as MacTavish snapped back to reality.

"Got beef with someone back at the parachute regiment. Threw a bar of soap straight into his eye." he muttered, almost embarrassed.

"Quite the marksman…" France mused jokingly.

"Oh, bug off. Bet you can't do it square in the eye at a far distance." he boasted, finally getting up.

"I could try. Why don't you stand there so we can test it out." she retorted and Soap just rolled his eyes at her, convincing himself that arguing with her is a waste of time.

The doors slowly opened and a short blonde girl on a wheelchair was being pushed by a nurse. Everyone turned their heads towards the door and Soap noticed France's soft sobs.

"Maxine… I finally found you." she cried. Maxine just sat still, her eyes were open but it felt like she was looking at the vast nothingness.

"She's still recovering her memory lapses. She could hear you and see you but while her brain is still repairing itself, you couldn't expect any response from her." The nurse added and set her on the bed beside Samantha's.

"Sleep restores most minor brain damages we have. So I advise you to do it as well." the nurse patted Samantha and she nodded as the nurse made it's way out.

"How do you know her?" Soap asked, breaking the silence that occured since Maxine entered.

"She's my roommate." Samantha replied in unison to France's "She's my sister."

The girls turned to each other and started crying. Soap just sat there in awe, knowing nothing about calming the situation down.

"I'm sorry I dragged her into this." Samantha sniffled, wanting to hug France.

"You don't have to… It's not your fault." France replied.

~

The rest of the squad arrived when they were permitted to visit the infirmary, except for Price, who was busy about another upcoming move from Nero. In a small room, on a huge circle like formation. Alex was by the door, crossing his arms and staring momentarily at Samantha and turning back to the squad when she turns to him. Soap was aware they had a past mission together but something happened that made him act that way, another reason why he wanted to talk to him.

Ghost and Roach sat by the sofa, finally addressing his raccon story to the group.

"And so there I was by the dumpster. Spreading my arms establishing dominance toward him." Gary narrated, spreading his arms like that of his story.

"It's all over now Rocky Raccoon. I have you cornered. Now give me back my watch! I yelled and you know what happens next? The raccoon actually dropped my watch and scurried back to the forest! Isn't that amazing!" Gary continued adding sound effects and ambiance in the story. He was always the jolly one in the group. He turned to the girls who were laughing along Roach's story while Ghost and Alex forced themselves not to chuckle.

"What's the value of that watch?" Samantha asked.

"Oh about a few hundred British pounds." 

"No no. The sentimental value. The memories it holds. Why is it important to you?" She corrected. Soap caught Alex staring at her intently, his fists were gripping some sort of pendant.

"My mother gave it to me when I left home and joined the force. She said time is golden and I have to enjoy every second of it." he replied showing his watch to the group.

"Aww.. Roach.." France sniffed and Soap rolled his eyes. It wasn't that sad. He thought.

"Well, your Mum's right." Ghost patted Roach's back and he smiled.

The PA Systems rang again and alerted their little group. It announced about another briefing with the exception of those injured and Alex. Ghost and Roach bid their goodbyes at the remaining people, and they waved back except for Maxine who was still asleep.

As soon as the door closed the atmosphere began to shift as Alex slowly walks toward Samantha. Soap and France quietly trailed their eyes at the event and observed intently.

"You!" Samantha finally yelled and slapped Alex as soon as he was reachable.

"Ow! What gives!" he hissed in pain, rubbing his red cheeks.

"You were that creep I met by my apartment! What are you doing here!" she grabbed a pillow and gestured to hit the man. France tried to calm her.

"That's Alex. One of our allies." She whispered softly.

"Alex? Hmmm. Yeah. He looked like that creep who chased me to the supermarket. But that creep had longer hair and complete legs." she noted, calming herself down and lowering his weapon.

"That was actually me. Samantha." he muttered. Soap and France sat quietly as the drama began to unfold.

"You dropped this. That's why I chased you to give it back." Alex handed her a golden pendant. Samantha quickly recognized the thing and held it tight. 

"Daddy's gift." she sighed.

"You dropped it when you were walking home." Alex added and looked down on the floor.

"Thanks, Alex. I'm sorry if I slapped you." She smiled at him and Alex stared back. It was quite long and France whispered to Soap that "things are heating up'. Do these two have some history or something? Like Romantically? Cause, I can sense it." 

Soap shrugged her idea and looked back at Alex who was now leaving.

"It's okay, Maam. Afterall, I'm just nothing but a complete stranger to you." he smiled and closed the door shut, leaving the four of them in silence.

Next Chapter : A Walk to Remember

[yandere-society]

Candy Man

Synopsis: Stepping into the world-famous Hope World Candy Factory the day of Valentine’s Day, you are filled with an overwhelming number of sweets and surprises. As a confectionary lover, this is your dream, to not only see the inside of the glittering multi-colored building, but maybe get a glimpse of the interesting man behind all the delicious desserts. There’s also something here, lingering behind every jelly bean wall or chocolate cove. After getting separated from a tour group, you think maybe this was a mistake to come in here so carefree. There may be something sinister behind these seemingly harmless candies.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Word Count: 4,300+

Admin: @mintedmango​

Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist

Trigger warnings: Yandere-themes, mentions of death/murder, mentions of gore, blood, passing out/fainting, knives, improvised weapons, being tied down/restrained, hospital beds, unhealthy thinking relationships, cannibalism.

The skin of your lips was being peeled off by your teeth as you nervously flit from foot to foot on your elevator ride up the see-through jelly tube. You could see almost every chocolate cove and red vine tree from the pink tubing your tour group was being brought down to. Your heart was pumping rapidly with a mix of excited and full of tension, and your empty stomach was rumbling as butterflies fluttered, trapped inside. You weren’t sure anymore if not eating this morning to make room for all the sweets that one could possibly enjoy was a good idea. 

You were so anxious you could hardly stand it. Ever since you learned that the infamous Hope World Candy Factory was opening up one day to the public for the first time, you decided you just had to fly across the country and see it for yourself. You’ve loved the company and all the creations that they make ever since you had your first Daydream Bar at the tender age of five. 

All you had to do was buy a ticket for the factory (that costs a pretty, pretty penny, mind you) and you were set for the whole day!

The only catch though was that it was only open on Valentine’s Day and it was strictly for couples to come and enjoy a romantic, sweet-filled day in the candy factory...

And of course, you were as single as single could be. 

That’s just how life goes, right? 

The elevator lurches to a halt suddenly and you almost stop breathing, your excitement overwhelming you. 

“Everyone, step lightly, we have much to see!” Says a stout woman with green hair and carrot-colored skin as she ushers everyone out of the tube and into a dim room with a tiny, tiny door at the end of the hallway. “Now,” she whispers, as she grabs what looks to be different colored (and probably flavored you assume) gelatin keys and sticks a goldenrod one through the small keyhole. “Beyond this door is where you get to roam the marvelous Grand Garden.” 

You gulp, mind full of wonder and awe as you watch her turn the key, and it glitters and sparkles with the bright light beyond the door, much like your eyes right now. 

From the moment of purchasing your own golden ticket, you have been scouring the internet in hopes you would find more info about the Hope World Factory and the mysterious secrets it keeps locked up tight behind its doors. There wasn’t much on the Jung family or the current CEO of the factory. Just rumors of an immense and large edible garden, with so much grandeur and thought put into it, it was something straight out of a fairy tale book. 

“Everything is edible.” She states with a smile before pushing open the door. “But please be advised to stay within the walls of the garden with your partner, or you could end up in some serious… hot chocolate.” 

A few people in your group snicker at her sweet-treated pun, but you can’t focus on anything except seeing what is beyond that bland-colored door, wanting to know if the rumors of splendor are true. Your palms are sweaty and your mind blank with anticipation. 

“Please come back to this door, under the raspberry truffle tree in one hour!” She smiles as she finally pushes the door open for you all to run inside, and see what the Jung family has been hiding for decades. “It’s something out of your purest imagination!”

Speaking of Jung family, you wonder if the rumors are true: the family's youngest son is in charge of the factory now, after his sister got engaged to a rival candy company’s heir. So many whispers and hush-hush with this family, you swear! Deep down you really wanted gossip and drama from them, as selfish as that sounds. You wish they were a little bit messy and spill their internal secrets to the world. So you only really knew what the internet and late-night television hosts would spread amongst the airways, which were usually ridiculous words of slander and vile garbage. 

But what you do know about the famous sweet CEO was that he has an amazing taste in everything from cars, to clothes, especially to candy and you’ve heard that he has an amazing, dazzling smile. Supposedly, and according to the rumors circulating everywhere. 

“Where’s your date, young lady?” The woman with white eyebrows asks up to you with a serious smile on her orange lips, breaking your inner thoughts. Her eyes rake your features up and down, like a human scanner, and you can’t help but gulp. You hoped all your hard work was not in vain. 

“Uh-He’s in...the bathroom.” You lie with a wry smile, hoping she’ll buy it with just enough time to get you into the room she’s so close to unlocking. 

She purses her lips and looks away from you, but doesn’t ask you anything further on the manner. 

“Have fun in the garden!” She says instead of throwing you out and opens the plain door to the grandest thing you think you’ve ever seen. 

Couples scream and laugh as they whiz past you on your journey to roam freely around the edible valley. You can’t be bothered though, as your mouth is going to collect dust if you leave it unhinges for too long. 

There are no words. You couldn’t fathom half the things in this room. Is this even a factory anymore, or are you in heaven? 

It’s… simply breathtaking. 

The online forms were right - there is a giant edible garden - but the words and descriptions on screen didn’t do the real thing any justice. And, of course, they confiscated your phones even before you entered the building so you couldn’t document this creation out of a book come to life scene unfolding before your eyes. 

You are stunned as you walk on the hardened peanut butter cup path towards the giant garden in the middle of four, high walls. Your eyes sparkle, filling with tears of joy upon seeing the beautiful, wonderful sights before your eyes, covering your mouth as the couples in your tour guide pass by your idle body. It is seriously extremely super overwhelming: your senses are going on overdrive as your sockets roam over every inch of the garden that you can see. You just need a moment to take everything in. 

There is so much - so many details and little things going on. 

Trees made of marbled dark and milk chocolate stand tall, protruding into the blue-raspberry colored sky, pastel cotton candy clouds wisping around above you. Most of the whimsical looking plants bear fruit of all kinds and gummy leaves hanging low off their perfectly carved branches. You hear a trickle of something, like a stream of water, and see that there is a tiny clear yet caffeinated creek of soda-pop softly crackling its way through the garden. Following your eyes, you see there’s realistic grey rock-candy gravel and well, rocks, underfoot as well as strings of grass you can only assume are sour green-apple flavored, or even possibly key-lime pie? You can’t be certain but you can’t wait to try it! There’s a fountain spewing caramel in the middle of the garden, surrounded by a pool of white chocolate, and it's held together by what looks to be a brick, but upon a further glance, you suspect that it’s potentially licorice or Twizzlers, or a combination of both. There’s tables, chairs, and benches made out of finely crafted shortbread cookies placed along the peanut butter paths of the edible wonderland. There are colorful flowers made of lollipops and sugared, blown glass softly billowing in the artificial breeze, seemingly waving at you as you gawk on in shock.  

It’s all too beautiful. Your mind is having trouble processing everything until you hear an excited scream about life-sized gummy bear bushes and you can’t help, but want to investigate further. 

Your feet finally start to move as you are openly sniffling and crying: you are such a happy mess. 

A stout figure smiles at your back, a menacing aura surrounding her as she presses a single digit on her smartwatch to the man behind this beautiful room and factory. 

“Fritz?” He questions, nearly shrieking through the speaker with excitement. “How are our esteemed guests doing?”

“Oh… Well, I suppose,” her upper lip curves into something dreadfully evil. “But, we have a lost little crumb who decided to bend the rules and attend the party without a date.” 

The young CEO sighs into the receiver, watching everything unfold from his observation deck placed high above the ground, in order to study the humans roaming around his perfect, edible garden. 

He knows. He’s known since she walked in here that she was alone and didn’t have a special someone to share this day of candy hearts and love songs to. 

Which was perfect because well, you see, neither did he. 

He sighs as he tips his silkened purple top hat up to view the mesmerized crowd down below, throwing up his dark leather boots on the desk in the observation deck. Deep down, the young man was lonely, hiding his family’s recipes and secrets for the rest of his life due to the enigma that was the candy business. His usually jovial smile turns into a sour frown as he watches her stand shell-shocked by the river of soda pop, staring up into the cotton candy clouds. Or, paradise, as he calls it.

It was as if she was looking at him, knowing there was someone watching her admire and take in all the hard work that he and his staff have given to the largest and most amazing room in the factory. He leans into the window, removing his boots from the desk to watch her with her mouth agape take in the splendor and majesty that was his garden. His eyes widen as he studies her expression. She hasn’t even eaten or enjoyed anything in the room yet… Why is that he wonders? Was she a spy for another company? No, it was more like she was in complete disbelief that this was even real. Almost like she was marveling at his handy work...

Suddenly, the young man clad in his expensive purple suit has a wicked thought. Oh yes! If she is a fan of confections of any kind she will be a great asset to the company and myself! A dream only someone of his caliber who’s spent so much of his time up in the clouds could fathom. Or she’ll do nicely for some company if I end up breaking her in the process then! 

“Fritz,” he presses his watch up to his lips that curve into a devious smile. “Bring her up.” His amber eyes turn dark and cloudy as he thinks of his lair, a lab where he designs desserts and candies of all kinds. “I think we found our new taste tester.”

Oh wow! This is really unlike anything you could even dare of dreaming! You don’t think anything can ever compare to the concoctions and creations that the Hope World Factory has let the outside world enjoy for a mere afternoon. It didn’t seem right to you to try anything. If you ate and ruined all the time it took someone to place here so craftily and carefully. No. You didn’t think you could. 

Unlike some...

A playful screech comes from your left and you duck just in time to see a flash of white pass right by your nose. 

You watch with mirth as a couple runs by you, throwing marshmallow fluff off the cherry flavored giant mushrooms placed delicately around the garden. They scream and fly past you, making a mess of the precise and wonderful dessert and bakery items it probably took a whole team of people to create. You frown with judgmental eyes, studying the pair of grown adults act like they were children. 

Though you suppose, candy does revert you back to your childhood, where everything was much more innocent and easy to deal with. 

It was amazing what a room of sweets could do to a group of people. 

They race around, running this way and that, laughing and having the time of their lives with giant smiles plastered on their faces. They disappear from view and you stand watching the space from where they left, under a chocolate tree with gummy bananas hanging off of them. 

Shooting through your body, a zinging pain shoots through your heart feeling like the zap of a thousand volts of electricity that trickles down to your toes and lights its way back up your spine again. 

You freeze watching the pair disappear behind a licorice willow tree. With a tired gulp and a teary blink in your eye, you have to face reality. Truth hurts, as some would say: you are incredibly lonely. 

“Miss,” just then, the shrill voice of the stout lady behind you echoes from where you are standing and you nearly jump right out of your skin you are frightened by the sneaky tour guide. You all but tense up, breathing hitching as your sockets expand, fearing for the worst. “Miss, a word?” Your nerves were on fire as the soda stream pops and fizzles next to you, filling your ears with the carbonated crackling, as well as all the blood that rushes to your ears. Adrenaline running through your veins, like hot-white lightening sparking up and down from head to toe.  

Shit! You think turning to face the orange lady with a sheepish smile. I’ve been caught! 

“Y-Yes?” You mumble as she smiles on at you turning to face her fully. 

“Who can take a sunrise?” She starts to sing an eerie tune and your stomach pits. “Sprinkle it with dew?” Your eyes are the size of the moon as you watch her bring a bag out of her pocket as she continues to smile that weird, twisted smile at you. “Cover it in chocolate and a miracle or two?” Your heart is pounding out of its chest staring at this round orange woman who reaches into her silkened purple bag, pulling up a handful of what looks like sparkling glitter. “The candy man can.” Her mouth continues to stretch across her face, as she makes invisible worms and spiders crawl along your skin that’s turned to ice. She lifts her hand and blows the dusty glitter into your eyes, as you try to recoil from the crazy action the tour guide throws your way.  

Literally. 

“Hey!” You yell, opening your eyes to find the world covered in glistening lights, the garden shiny and bright for some strange reason. “What the heck?!” 

“Because he mixes it with love,” she ignores you and continues chanting her odd song to you. Your eyelids feel heavy, your body suddenly sluggish, “and chocolate,” you can barely stand on your own two feet as you feel yourself slumping forward and backward. You feel like you are stuck in a murky pit of blackness, and will never be able to escape from the throes of this evil she’s thrown at you. Unable to form a coherent thought, sleep seeps into your mind as you start to succumb to the feeling. Darkness creeps around your vision as you start to fall. Two pairs of hands keep your body up as you hear the orange lady say a few final words. “And makes the world taste good.” 

-

When you come to your senses, you have a sneaking suspicion that you aren’t in the garden anymore.  Your eyes are clouded with that weird dust that the weird-ass tour guide blew in your face. There’s more shining, glittering lights floating above you and you realize all the spotlights are all pointed at you. You try to blink the dust away but every move you make makes your body ache for some reason. Why were you in pain? Did you fall? No, you could have sworn there were two people holding you up, carrying you, while you heard… singing, the whole time…

So weird.

Oh crap, speaking of that green-haired tour guide… You gasp a little, foggy brain finally waking up fully, and you nearly grasp. You finally understand. You were caught! You broke the rules though and you deserve to be reprimanded and rightfully so. But, the question still stands. 

With a groan and a small shift of your head, you try to grab your throbbing head, but it was sadly in vain. 

You blink rapidly. No. This had to be a bad dream right? You are not strapped to a metal object, right? No. Your hands around bound and placed above you? No. You try to kick your legs, only to find your ankles confined into shackles connect to the cool metal item. Loud noises of your struggle erupt from your body, echoing throughout the small, sterile room. Metal clanging around itself was the worst thing you think you’ve ever heard.

There’s… no way… right? 

Your eyes expand, practically falling out of your head as your empty stomach flips over on itself. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, throat running dry. You let out a blood-curdling scream upon realizing that you are tied to a flat, stainless steel table in the middle of a brightly lit, sterile-looking room. You hear the faint melody that evil woman was humming in the distance and you want to throw up you feel physically sick. 

This was something out of a terrible bad trip, a nightmare, a horror movie. Is this a scene from a sci-fi film? Your eyes are shaking in their sockets, unable to focus on anything. 

Sure, you broke the rules. Sure, you should be punished for it or be fined a sum of money. But, wasn’t this a little extreme? What were they going to do? Torture you?  Was the policy for breaking the rules to probe you? With a hard swallow, you honestly hope that’s a solid no. 

“Hi there, little crumb.” Comes the awful, nails on a chalkboard, screeching sound of the stout tour guide flutters in somewhere above you. No! You plead to no one in your head. No please don’t kill me! I haven’t even eaten anything from the garden yet!

Your heart is beating, drumming, pounding at the shackles of your sternum to bust free from your chest. Her sweaty, orange meaty fingers come out of nowhere to twist your face toward her. A twisted smirk forms on her scaly lips, her white eyebrows rising to her wide forehead to reveal her pinked gums and dilated eyes beaming, honing in on you. Her yellow, laser-like eyes lock together with yours, which enlarge in fear. 

“You think you are special, huh?” She laughs, throwing her head back and maniacally cackling. “You think just because the young master has chosen you of all people to be his new taste-tester you think you are something else?” 

“We are going to have so much fun,” she lifts a pumpkin carving knife up to your neck, “together.” She hisses, leaning in, and you nearly taste the bile, the vomit rising in your esophagus while you can’t form a single clear thought as you watch her press the shiny blade to your throat further. Your breathing hitches as she sneers, leaning in closer to practically spit on you. “I’ve loved him for years, since he had dreams to build the garden and you think that YOU,” you wince when you feel the stinging slice of the blade a trickle of blood runs down from your skin and onto the blade. “YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST TAKE HIM FROM ME?”

You are going to die. You are going to die. You are going to be murdered in cold blood by this woman who knows nothing about you. She’s going to kill you and probably play jump-rope in your intestines. 

“Hello, little lady.” A cheerful voice filters in from behind the orange lady, snapping you out of your swirling, disintegrating thoughts of your impending peril and doom. “And goodbye Fritz.” 

Before the round woman could even think to turn around, your vision, that was once white and sterile, is painted in bright sticky red. 

Blood to be exact. 

It drips from the giant blue lollipop-shaped into a knife protruding from the orange chest of the orange tour guide. Red particles splatter upon your body, painting you in the warm, maroon color of her life force that someone is robbing from her. Her eyes roll back into her skull, removing the carving knife from your throat as she spits a lump of clotted blood out of her dry, cracked lips. 

Your lips part in shock, eyes continuing to stay as wide as dinner plates as you watch the lady before you crumple in on herself and slump to the ground in a heap of orange, red, and green. 

A man in silkened purple suit, with a shit-eating grin curving his lips and whose white gloves were speckled and smeared pink from the blood of his staff, was clapping enthusiastically. The sound fills the once sterile room, the noise jarring and ear-splitting as you recoil slightly every time his covered palm connects to the other. 

Why is he clapping? He beams as he steps over her dead, lifeless body as yours tenses up. And who the fuck is he?

You remember where you are and why you were here in the first place and you nearly jump out of your skin. 

He’s… oh my God...

The young CEO of the Hope World Factory: Jung Hoseok. 

He is handsome, there’s no doubt about that. His chestnut-colored hair is barely visible due to the matching violet top hat that covers his head. Amber eyes that sparkle with mischief under the bright spotlight of the medical looking room. You can’t help but drink him in as he starts to loom over you. His slender nose sculpts into a soft-looking smirk, that's curved into a tender smile, shines gently down around you laid out on the cold metal bed. His grin really is magnetic because you are completely captivated by this man who looms lower and lower over you, until you can smell the sweet aroma wafting in around him. 

Enthralled, enchanted, mesmerized… This man has a spell over you and you can't look away. 

But you have to ask, “Are you going to kill me?” 

He blinks at you in disbelief, smile falling only for a moment before he starts scream-laughing. 

“What?” He chuckles as he clutches his sides, cackling himself into stitches. “Oh, no no no, little crumb!” His nostrils flare, honey-colored eyes dilating. “You know who I am, yes? You’ve put two and two together?” 

You nod, with a weak ‘yes’ leaving your mouth. 

“Then you know I’m the infamous candy man, Jung Hoseok.” He sneers, slamming his stained bloody gloves on either side of you on the metal table. “I’m solely going to play with you, little crumb.”

A gasp leaves your lips as you register his words in your head.

You struggle in the shackles, trying to retreat away from the man sneering down at you with mirth. He cocks his head to the side, the bright light being blocked from the man practically climbing on top of you. “Do you know what my main ingredient is here at the Hope World Factory?” His voice drops an octave and his playful eyes cloud over with something dark. 

You swivel your head back and forth in a no.

Hoseok slams his hand down next to your head, nabbing your attention in full force. “Speak when spoken to, pet.”

“N-No.” You whisper, a tear leaves one of your eyes, sliding out of your socket, dripping onto the cold table. 

“Very good.” He caresses your face with the back of his pinkened-color glove. With a menacing and misplaced smirk, Hoseok dips down to your neck where the tour guide shallowly cut you. You whimper with trembling lips, closing your eyes moving your face away from him, which only reveals the pulse point of your neck to him more. “Oh, very good.” You hear him inhale before the warm flat of his tongue laps the trickle of blood that streams out from your flesh. 

Did he just… drink your blood?

Hoseok stands then, lips swollen and colored with your blood, grinning like a wild, maniac above you. “Oh, you’ll do just nicely.”

“F-for-r wh-what?” You shake, tied to the table you are straining, desperate to get out of. 

He raises his hands above you, eyes dark with no sparkle left in them. “I drained my last taste tester, broke her, some would say. But, oh you,” he cups your face leaning in to grin at you with his pearly whites coated in your blood, “you just need to lay here and look pretty while your blood is our secret ingredient for all things sweet in the Hope World Factory.” He shrieks, laughing like an insane person as he cups your face in his sticky palms. “Isn’t that great?” 

Your heart breaks as you silently beg for a quick and easy death like the lady on the ground. This was not what you had in mind for your Valentine's Day, as well as the rest of your life.

“You can’t keep me here.” You whisper, but it sounds like you are begging him more at this point than anything. 

He ignores you and starts humming that dreadfully eerie song from earlier as he leans back over to trap your wounds in between his lips again. “The candy man can.” He hums into your skin, his tongue swirling all over your poor neck. “Because he mixes it with love and makes the world taste good.” 

———

[ego-driven-one-wing-angel]

1.1 - DEMURE | Sephiroth

A/N: AHHH, this was supposed to be up yesterday but my internet SUCKS sometimes so I’M SO SORRY. I HOPE YA’LL ENJOY IT!!

WARNING: THIS BOOK IS RATED 18+, READER DISCRETION ADVISED. IN THE FUTURE THERE WILL BE SEXUALLY EXPLICIT SCENES, SWEARING, ADULT THEMES SUCH AS PAST ABUSE, ALCOHOL, AND AGAIN SEXUAL SCENES, I CAN NOT REPEAT THIS ENOUGH. This is basically an erotica between OC Kalista Shir and Sephiroth.

PLEASE TAKE CAUTION

1.1 - Chapter 1

“What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.” - Charles Bukowski

[TRACK: Ancient Roman Music - Synaulia I]

(You can listen to the tracks in the background if you wish, these are just the songs that either inspire me/listen to while writing the chapter. Some of them are not in the taste of some readers, so it’s not necessary to listen to it. Anyway, enjoy!)

SEPHIROTH had no time to react. Just the immediate grabbing of a woman falling into his arms, blood coating his gloved hands, the collective angry screams of the other girls ganging up on a man still hiding in the room behind them. When he had entered the Poppy Circus Outlet, there were a number of things he was prepared to witness, but what happened in front of room 423 became more or less an example of how he can never be fully able for everything. 

One moment she had been hiding in his chest for help, her neck nipped with a blade, soaking the white sheet that barely covered her body in a light coat of red and soft tears, the next she was being dragged from his hands, and finding himself in the owner’s office with a wet rag to clean the dried blood upon his leather.

Lockwood “Daring” Heart kept his lips sealed as Sephiroth cleaned up the mess, trying to find words on how to describe the situation they all just had witnessed. Daring, who had owned the Poppy Circus for nearly six months, had never considered a mishap as large as one of his girl’s being targeted, let alone letting one of the top men in Midgar see the action unfold.

Daring was the type of man who was always dressed in a pressed suit of purple stripes, short yet thin, with a mustache curled at his sides. Daring had a kinder personality, especially compared to the others in the business. He’d never allow someone like Mr. Dunes to come cut his girls, let alone his most prized ones. He’d always kept such strict regulations, made sure his girls were just as happy as he was. He missed the ball on that one.

“I wasn’t aware you’d be coming in,” Daring said through his teeth, lighting a cigar with shaky hands. A moment passed as he took in a puff, letting it blow through his nose briefly before he tried to continue with his voice more steady. “Your SOLDIER men enjoy their time here, more so than the Honey Bee Inn apparently.”

Sephiroth didn’t say a word, but the tension building in the room made Daring take in another long inhale of his cigar, this time, taking the moment to let it fester in his lungs. Daring was terrified. Even more so when Sephiroth placed the wet, now bloodied, rag on the table beside him, and the ice-cold stare he had given Daring made his heart beat a little too fast.

“Genesis enjoys-”

“I’m not going to have the place shut down,” Sephiroth said, his voice as icy as his personality, but Daring still let out a deep breath at those words.

For a minute, he had thought his booming business was going to shut down. All his girls would be homeless on the streets, no longer taking refuge in their piece of heaven located in sector two.

The Poppy Circus Outlet was a rival to the infamous Honey Bee Inn, but had a lot less strict rules and more beautiful girls to choose from. The only pop of color amidst the construction, decorated in pinks and red, golds and yellows, the lobby displaying artistic views of the female form just to tease on what was hidden behind the iron doors. 

Daring always believed the underdog slum locals would be taking advantage of the Poppy Inn more than any other demographic, but he had been mistaken, poorly so. SOLDIER and all their tight-ass personnel kept coming back, and the more they did, the more money lined his pockets. The red-head with a bit of an attitude problem, Genesis, was a continuous source of money. Despite his ego problem and ridiculous requests, the girls not only loved him, but he always counted on that big paycheck to pay off the building.

If there was one man with the power to turn heads, Sephiroth would be one of them.

“Kalista is perfectly alright,” Daring reassured him, despite not getting a sense he even cared. “Just a little cut, the cheese knife got a bit too close I guess, caused her to panic, and when she panics,” he tried to smile, “they all panic.” Another deep puff caused Daring’s true personality to shine a little more, the happy-go-lucky, eccentric owner the rest of Midgar knew him to be.

“It would be more than a pleasure to continue having SOLDIER business,” Daring said with a click of his tongue, “and I’m sure Kalista would be willing to give an apology if-”

“An apology isn’t needed, it wasn’t her fault.”

“Right, but you know, for the blood. Can be quite damaging to clothing sometimes.” And his forced laughter cut off with an unexpected silence. “Okay, maybe an apology isn’t needed. But I’ll throw in some deals for your SOLDIER and we can forget this ever happened.”

Sephiroth’s brows furrowed just a little, almost as if his face hadn’t moved at all. But Daring could tell, the type of solace only found in men like Sephiroth, the ones who have kept everything so bottled in sometimes it was hard to convey even the best emotions. An enigma, both the same and different from Genesis.

“I want to meet her.”

Daring’s ears burned a bit, thinking it was some play on his mind in the heat of excitement and adrenaline. “Excuse me?”

The small office appeared smaller. The soft glow of red hiding his locked jaw, Sephiroth’s subtle grin, how Daring wished he wasn’t face-to-face with the one and only 1st class General. Any other man who had asked would have been given a flat out no, unless a payment had been provided first, but his tongue dared not say it. His stomach at his feet, the cigar no longer calming his nerves. A million things jumbled in his brain momentarily. 

He let out a nervous chuckle, but the lack of humor in Sephiroth sent shivers down Daring’s spine.

“Kalista is what we call a circi here in Poppy. You need an appointment, money, you can’t just ask to meet her and expect it to happen.”

“You just offered to have her give me an apology.”

“An apology and a meeting is different, at least here it is. Kalista is a busy girl.”

“Genesis always talked so fondly of this place.”

“We don’t allow mundan meetings, General.”

“Mentioned you could leave them on retainer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“A high price to make sure they’re yours and yours only.”

Daring let off a grin, another puff, nodding his head. “If you’re threatening me over this I won’t go down without a fight.”

“I only came to see where Genesis spends his time. No better way than to apologize than allow me just a meeting.

Daring let the smoke of his nose, finally setting his cigar on the ashtray, leaning forward. “One meeting. Ten minutes.”

Sephiroth’s subtle grin returned, “I’ll see what I can do in that time.”

KALISTA bit her tongue as she cleaned the blood from her skin, the graze stinging from the antiseptic soaked in the towel. She couldn’t help the shaking, how close the knife had gone to her face, the blade in her eye’s vision as he ran it up and down her body, scaring her, waiting for her panicked reaction to take over. But as she sat still, feeling the coldness of steel ponder above her thighs, near her waist, up near her neck, her heart began to beat fast, but she couldn’t move a muscle. She was just silently allowing him to lay wet kisses on her cheeks, the blade moving so close to her artery.

Her body hadn’t reacted in time as he pressed it in, his drunken breath filling her nostrils as she shoved him back. Grabbing the spare sheet on the floor in an attempt to run, her eyes growing wet. She didn’t even make it far in the end, simply colliding with something heavy, smelling of soap and a light sense of musk, a man, no one in the Poppy Inn left without a scent of vanilla and honey.

An outsider.

She couldn’t help but hold onto his arms until one of the other girls heard the running. How the man yelled behind her, requesting her to come back. She wouldn’t look, she wanted to escape in the outsider’s scent for a few moments longer.

Kalista  patted the skin as she glanced back in the mirror, inspecting the small cut like it was a war wound. It hadn’t even pierced deep, but Kalista was shaking like it had cut through her muscle and veins. 

Just focus. And Kalista shut her eyes briefly, trying to pine in on the small burn it left. One deep breath, fists clenched on her knees, She’d have to use all her energy, stop shaking for just a second to get the desired results, and just like that, it was done.

Kal took a moment to inspect again, parting her hair to examine her own work. One moment she had bared an unfortunate cut from a cheese knife, the next, it was as if nothing had happened. Minus the still chipping blood near her ear, the deed was no longer visible. Just as she liked it. Daring wouldn’t question it, nor would the girls. 

They knew her secret as well as she did.

Kal took a long drink of the champagne bottle left on her vanity, hoping the alcohol would ease her shattered nerves even briefly. She could hide it, but she couldn’t hide from it.

Thankfully Daring was a good guy or else Kal would have to do everything in her power to hide from that bastard Mr. Dunes. She’d have no need to wait in the halls for him to pass, for him to glance over her as if she was a piece of meat, he’d never have to endure that again, and neither would the others.

Kal finished off the rest of the bottle when a knock had come at her door. She instinctively wrapped her robe around tighter, wiping the smeared red lipstick with her sleeve before she approached the expected visitation.

But when she opened the door, she wasn’t arranged to meet the tall man standing behind him. For a second she had thought Daring was trying to strike up a conversation as he always did with her and her potential customers, but his solemn look said otherwise. It was like he was trying to send her a neurological signal as a warning, but Kal couldn’t tell why.

“Kalista.” Daring greeted her, a smile popping on his face for a second before it completely disappeared. There was a small amount of happiness in his eyes left, but the unfortunate accident had left Daring just as shaken up as she felt. “this is General Sephiroth. He’s the one you bleed all over.” 

Kalista bit her cheek, as always he was pretty blunt when it came to the job. 

“He works for SOLDIER.”

Kal nodded slowly as if she was intently listening, but she was a bit drunk at that point, not to mention Sephiroth seemed a little chillier than the other men Daring would bring down. She constantly walked cautious, and despite Sephiroth not giving off any terrifying vibes just yet, she still had to remain a bit hesitant. It’s how it started with Mr. Dunes. He was a very generous man in the light, but drunk and in the dark, knife-play was possibly the least dangerous thing he could have pulled. She was lucky to find out so quick.

“He wanted to come meet the bleeding woman.” Daring continued with a revamp of his playful tone. Allowing himself into her bedroom, Sephiroth following, Kal got a quick whiff of his soapy smell yet again as he brushed by, and she took in a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry if that’s worth anything,” Kalista said, trying not to bite her lip. She had already scraped off the excess dried skin the past few hours, anymore and she’d tear off her whole bottom lip. The other girl’s would be constantly tearing her apart with their humor, and after the knife, she needed a few days before she could handle being teased by childish entertainment. 

Daring patted her shoulder, “he doesn’t want an apology, Kal. Calm down. He just needs to ask you a few questions.”

Kalista was prepared to say something, but Daring had shushed her like a disobedient child, closing the door behind him before Kal could protest. She should have guessed he’d spring something on her so quickly. 

Sephiroth took a moment to inspect Kalista’s bedroom as Kal reopened her door, escaping to find Daring wherever he had disappeared to. 

Her room was much different than the bright crimson decorating throughout the rest of the Poppy Circus. Everything was coated with deep wine, burgundy, much more calm compared to the exaggerated golds in the hallways. Huge tapestries hung on the walls, a canopy hanging off her bed, large curtains blocking the sunlight, leaving nothing but the soft glow of the candles surrounding him.

Sephiroth stopped in front of her wall paintings, noticing a white streak that read Kalista Shir hidden in the corner. His fingers scraped over it, letting the leather run over the rough texture slowly, but before he could circle through her name, Kalista had stopped him in his tracks.

“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t.” She said, taking in a deep breath. “The oils and dirt on your gloves would erode the paint faster.”

After a quick debriefing with Daring in the hall, she realized Sephiroth was a bigger name than she had originally thought. But that didn’t mean she had to let him run his hands all over her things as if he owned them. Customers paid for sex, not to view an art gallery.

“Do you paint?” Sephiroth asked, and she was taken back by his deeper voice. 

Kal shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Do you also sometimes bleed on men in the hallways?”

Her eyebrows cocked, suppressing a smile. She had a hard time trying to tell if he was being serious or joking. “Yeah, it’s how I always find my next client. You know, a way to make sure they know I mark them before they mark me.” She let off a small grin.

Sephiroth had seen beautiful women all over Midgar, but none who had captivated him as much as Kalista seemed to. Underneath the soft candlelight glow, he could still see the freckles dusting her olive skin. Everywhere. On her exposed shoulders, her cheeks, small moles seen on her hands. Hair as dark as a raven’s wing, curly, cascading down her back, and eyes unlike one’s he’s ever come across. Auburn, almost even more gold than the designs of the Poppy Circus.

“That’s why I asked to come talk to you,” Sephiroth said, moving from the painting, inspecting Kalista’s vanity clear on the other side of the room. “Daring said you're a circi, what does it mean?”

“Daring has a big mouth,” she said quietly, “it’s a fancy word for reserved whore mind you.”

“A bit brash are we not?”

“You can sugarcoat a lot of things, that’s not one of them.”

Sephiroth tried to hide the grin, “how much are you usually reserved for?”

 “Depends I guess. When you put girls on retainers it adds bonus funds.” Kal swallowed hard, but she still tried to remain still, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs in the middle of the room.

“Hmm, like what?”

“The daily cost alone can range between five thosand to six thosand gil, added costs are unknown to me. You’d have to ask Daring about it.”

“He’s a strange man.”

“He’s annoying,” Kal corrected. “He can be good, but most of the time I’m stuck doing his work. If he allowed me to do my job and he does his, we wouldn’t be crossing paths so often.”

Kalista found another bottle of champagne, half-full, and took a moment to take a drink while he continued to inspect the paintings surrounding her room. She kept her eye on him as she tasted the sweet undertones.

“Kalista, correct?” Sephiroth tested the name on his tongue, pausing, turning back towards the open door. He could hear the small giggles and whispers of the other girl’s on the floor, probably listening in. He couldn’t ask the things he wanted. Not yet anyway. 

She was about to answer when he said a simple “take care, Kalista.” Leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. Quietly, Kal sunk deeper in her chair.

When Sephiroth had officially left the building, Daring had popped back into her bedroom, his boisterous voice back and booming in her ear as she always remembered to be. Him begging her to tell him the things Sephiroth had asked, wondering why he had even walked through the Poppy Circus Outlet in the first place. But Kalista had nothing to say, and it would be another twenty-four hours before Kal could hear what he had wanted. 

CHAPTER TWO WILL BE PUBLISHED APRIL 10th, 2020

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Nine

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

They continued to practice, Roman intermittently kicking Damien, or stepping on his toes from using the wrong foot. Every time, Roman would apologize, and every time, Damien would wave away the apology. And with time, Roman improved. Damien started cracking jokes and making Roman laugh, and he focused on where he was stepping less, and focused on Damien more. In twenty minutes, he had learned the basic box step, and he wasn’t kicking anyone on accident anymore.

“Now that you know the box step, it’s time to learn the turn,” Logan said. “It’s not that difficult. Every time you take a step, you move your feet at a quarter of an angle to what you had been doing before. At the end two boxes, you should be facing the same way you are now. Ready to try?”

“No,” Roman said, staring up at Damien anyway.

Damien smiled reassuringly, and they tried the steps, painstakingly slow. Roman nearly rolled his ankle from turning a bit too much on one of the steps, but after a few tries, Roman was able to turn without hurting himself. Not hurting Damien was a little trickier, but he was avoiding kicking more and more.

“I think we should try the progression,” Logan said. “What that is would be essentially stretching the box you two are using, so that you move forward, or backward, across the dance floor instead of simply staying in the same place.”

“Joy,” Roman said.

“It will be all right, Roman,” Damien murmured. “You’ve done wonderfully so far.”

Roman swallowed and nodded, and they tried it. Damien had to get adjusted to Roman’s shorter legs, and he stepped on Roman’s toes a couple times in revenge as he got a handle on the adjustment.

They made a whole rotation around the ballroom and Logan clapped. “Excellent, both of you. Now, you will have to practice to make sure you can do this without looking at your feet, but if you can dance for the entire song without an error, I will conclude today’s lesson.”

Logan started playing the song on his phone, and Damien moved Roman across the dance floor. Roman kept on having to resist the urge to look at his feet. But when Damien started singing along to the song, Roman was transfixed. His voice sounded positively angelic, smooth as honey and he sang with just as much heart as the singer on the video.

Roman was still trying to get over the fact that Damien was singing to him...singing a song about true love, when the chorus started. And it was in that moment Roman knew that he loved Damien. The affection was so strong, he was surprised his heart didn’t burst. Tears sprang to Roman’s eyes, and Roman couldn’t cover the smile that was forming on his face.

Damien smiled just as wide as Roman did as he continued to sing, and they danced their way around the ballroom, Roman not having to look down once, all doubts about his dancing ability fading away as he focused solely on Damien. When the song ended, Roman was actually disappointed that he wouldn’t get to continue dancing. He heard clapping from the doorway to the ballroom, and he saw their mothers standing there, both of them beaming.

Roman turned red but Damien just laughed good-naturedly. “How long have you been standing there?” he asked, a gleam in his eye.

“Long enough to know that you can cure anyone from having two left feet,” the Queen said. “And that those singing classes you took in school didn’t go to waste.”

Roman let his hands drop from Damien’s, feeling disappointed in doing so. When the fluttering in his heart didn’t stop when he saw Damien laugh at the Queen, Roman was surprised. Usually, he could feel bursts of love for someone and they would fade away as the moment that caused the feeling passed. But this feeling remained. He was shocked. Did this mean...that he actually loved Damien? More than having a cute guy being chivalrous to him; did he actually love the man in question, and not just the actions? He took a shaky breath. What did that mean for him?

“Veronica, I trust you won’t stop practicing after this one time, thinking that you can waltz without issue from now on. Practice is what makes perfect,” Roman’s mother lectured.

“If you want, Your Majesty, I could continue dancing with Veronica for the rest of the morning,” Damien said, wrapping a hand around Roman’s waist, and Roman felt electricity shooting through him at the action.

“No, the two of you have much more to do than simply dance,” his mother said. “You both have more of the wedding to plan out for the rest of the morning, seeing as how one of you has meetings later today.”

Damien sighed. “Yes, I tried to ask my father if I could get out of the meetings, but he refused. I was hoping to spend some more time just...relaxing, and getting to know the two of you better, but a nation never rests.”

Roman felt disappointment settle in his stomach. He wanted to continue dancing, at least a little bit, just to hear a little more of Damien’s voice. But the infernal wedding was getting in the way. “What needs to be done this morning?” Roman asked.

“We need to finalize seating for the guests,” the Queen said. “Naturally, some people aren’t the most...receptive to others who will be here, and we need to make sure no one gets into a fight with someone else because they were sitting next to each other.”

Roman nodded. “Makes sense,” he said. He was still eternally thankful that he had wriggled out of getting bridesmaids and a Maid of Honor. He honestly would not have been able to handle that, but since the wedding was on such short notice, he didn’t have the time to pick out people who he could tolerate standing next to him at his wedding. “We wouldn’t want a war breaking out before the reception.”

“We might just get one yet,” his mother pointed out. “If you don’t tell people why you didn’t pick them as bridesmaids.”

“I think most people will understand, Mother. Especially considering the short notice,” Roman sighed. “We talked about this before.”

Damien snorted. “Truth be told, Your Majesty, I had no idea who I would make my Best Man if we were having an entire wedding party.” He offered Roman’s mother a fake smile that rivalled one of her own. “I think Veronica was very pragmatic in that decision.”

“Aw, thank you,” Roman said, looking up at him and offering him a grin. “I’m glad that someone else sees the reasoning behind my decisions.”

“Well, we are getting married,” Damien pointed out. “Perhaps there’s a reason we just...click?”

“Other than the fact that we’re both very attractive and want to please the other?” Roman asked with a teasing grin.

“Yes, other than that,” Damien said with a slight blush. Apparently being called attractive flustered him. Interesting.

The Queen offered Roman an amused smile. “We should probably get going and figure that out, however difficult it may be to leave this room. I know it’s rather nice in here, but we can’t bring the entire guest list over when there are more than one hundred people invitations have been sent to. And we have to find places for every last one of them.”

Roman could feel his blood pressure rising. “Damien,” he said, turning. “If you so much as even think about shirking out of this and leaving the three of us to plan this on our own, I will make your life a living hell.”

Roman’s mother gasped but Damien just laughed, vowing, “I would never dream of it, my dear.”

The two of them left the room at their mothers’ insistence, but they stayed close together as they walked through the halls. Roman kept on feeling his heart flutter whenever Damien’s hand brushed against his, and Roman knew he had contracted the love bug badly. His mother wasn’t making things any easier, either, giving him glares for using an alleged swear word. “So, do you know who’s being invited to our little...social engagement?” Damien asked Roman.

“Social engagement, hm?” Roman asked with a wicked grin.

“No, I am not doing this with you too,” Damien said. “I get enough puns from Patton!”

“Ah, but you’re the one who said it!” Roman exclaimed. “I just pointed it out and gave it the recognition it deserved!”

Damien gave Roman a half-hearted scowl and Roman just giggled. He knew that the love bug was going to make his life agony for a while, so he may as well enjoy the moment now, when it wasn’t as prevalent. “I don’t know everyone who’s being invited, but I know the majority of my extended family has agreed to come, as well as several people who either advise my father or work with him in some other fashion, and I know that Remus has a few people like that as well.”

Damien nodded. “I anticipate it’s much the same on my end,” Damien said. “I don’t know for certain. Truth be told...I was avoiding gaining information about this whole occasion for a while because I was terrified of it becoming real.”

“Has it? Become real?” Roman asked.

“It has,” Damien said. “But I think that I have also grown to appreciate it, and I have a certain excitement surrounding the occasion.”

“Why do you think that is?” Roman asked, glancing at Damien.

Damien brushed some hair out of Roman’s face gently and Roman nearly fainted. “Well, marrying someone as lovely as you certainly has something to do with it.”

“Oh,” Roman said softly, not knowing what else to say.

Damien offered Roman a smile and Roman smiled nervously back. “I don’t know what to do when pretty boys flirt with me,” he blurted, laughing.

“Neither do I,” Damien whispered into Roman’s ear.

Roman laughed harder, clapping a hand over his mouth. He sucked in air and turned with a scowl to Damien. “Come on, that’s mean!” he objected.

“I’ll stop if you will,” Damien offered.

Roman considered. “No,” he said. “I like being sarcastic too much. But you’re allowed to complain, as am I.”

“I can work with that,” Damien agreed.

They got to the room where the list of guests resided, which was conveniently located by the kitchen, no doubt so they could work through lunch if they had to. Roman and Damien sat down next to each other on one side of the table, and their mothers sat on the opposite side. Roman arched his eyebrows at the rows upon rows that the cathedral they were using had on a diagram placed on the table, and the long list of people who were expected to come. “This is going to take a while, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Sadly,” Damien agreed. “But if we finish it today, we might be able to do something together tomorrow that doesn’t involve wedding planning. You seemed to enjoy dance practice.”

“Dancing is fun when you’re not kicking your partner in the shins,” Roman said with a shrug.

“I agree,” Damien said. “Perhaps we can dance again tomorrow, should we have the time.”

“I’d like that,” Roman agreed, smiling.

They turned back to the list and Roman’s smile dimmed. “Okay. Easy ones first. Close family should be in the first row of each pew.”

“Agreed,” Damien said. “Less close individuals who are still family can sit in the second and third rows.”

“Dignitaries who hold high rankings of power should be in the fourth and fifth. Is it bad to want to banish children to the back rows?”

Damien laughed. “Only if you use the word ‘banish,’” he informed Roman. “But I think we should figure out which dignitaries wouldn’t throttle each other if they sit next to each other, first.”

Roman sighed. “You’re right, and I hate that you’re right.”

Damien offered Roman a small commiserating smile, and he looked at the list of dignitaries who were to be invited. “I know that Charles doesn’t like Nancy whatsoever, we should probably keep those two as far apart as possible.”

Roman looked over the names, half of them recognizable and another half with no idea as to their identities. “I know Mira gets along well with most people, so she shouldn’t be too hard to place. We can probably save her for later once we’ve eliminated some of the troublemakers.”

“Hm...Timothy is the same,” Damien mused. “Isabelle might not like someone but she is unlikely to start a fight over it, so we can probably place her later as well...”

They went through their lists slowly, sorting people into groups where they needed to be careful with placement, and where the guests could sit wherever they pleased, setting up seats for each of them. Once that was done, Roman’s stomach had started to snarl and he groaned, stretching one arm across the table while resting his head on the other one. “I’m starving,” he complained. “I can’t think on an empty stomach.”

Damien pulled out his phone and tutted at the screen. “I have to go to meetings in an hour.”

“Don’t leave me here,” Roman whined. “Hungry and alone is just cruel!”

Damien pat Roman’s arm and offered, “We could have lunch? Just the two of us?”

Roman pulled himself up until he was resting on his elbows. “You mean that?”

Damien tilted his head downward once. “There’s still much about you I’d love to learn, my dear.”

Roman sat up fully. “I wouldn’t object to having lunch just the two of us.”

Damien stood and offered Roman a hand. “Well, then we’d better make the most of the time we have.”

Roman took his hand with a smile. “You two must better behave,” Roman’s mother warned. “No food fights, understand?”

“Your Majesty,” Damien said, turning to look at Roman’s mother. “I would never dream of it. And I’m sure you and my mother have some things you’d rather speak about without us present, I would think that now would be the perfect time to have those conversations.”

Roman’s mother didn’t say anything else and Damien led Roman into the kitchen, calling, “Patton! I’m going to use the stove and nothing you can do will stop me!”

For a second, there was no noise in the kitchen. Then, there was the sound of rushing footsteps and Patton burst through a side door, yelling, “Your Highness, don’t you dare touch the stovetop!”

Roman cackled. “Are you about as good a cook as you are an artist?” he asked Damien.

“I burned pasta one time!” Damien protested. “Honestly, Patton, I haven’t made a mistake since! Why monitor me so closely in the kitchen?”

“Because the one time you burned the pasta was the one time I wasn’t watching you,” Patton gasped. “I’ll let you make food within reason, but tell me what you want to make so I don’t question you every step of the way.”

Damien rolled his eyes. “I was just going to make grilled cheese.”

“Ooh, that sounds nice,” Roman said, rubbing his hands together. “Any chance we could make tomato soup with it?”

“So long as we have the supplies to make it quickly?” Damien looked to Patton.

“Uh, might take half an hour to prepare,” he said apologetically. “We don’t have any of the canned stuff stocked up at the moment.”

“Do you have ketchup, in that case?” Roman asked.

“We do,” Patton said.

Damien stared at Roman. “You...put ketchup on your grilled cheese?!”

“If there’s no tomato soup, I tend to dip grilled cheese in ketchup, yeah,” Roman said with a shrug. “Why?”

“That sounds...absolutely disgusting,” Damien said.

“Oh come on,” Roman said. “Some people put it in the sandwich when they grill it, all I do is dip! Which is worse, hot ketchup or room-temperature?”

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation,” Damien muttered to himself. “This is by far the worst conversation I have ever had.”

“Hey! Damien!” Roman protested. “It’s not that weird! And it tastes amazing!”

Patton snickered as he moved around the kitchen, grabbing a pan and butter and bread and cheese. “While your fiancé has an existential crisis, I’ll make the both of you the grilled cheese, sound gouda?”

Roman gave Patton a laugh and a thumbs-up. Patton got to work and Roman led Damien to one of the counters that had two stools underneath it. He guided Damien onto one and then sat on the other himself, looking Damien over. He wasn’t exactly frozen in place, but he was definitely perturbed and his mouth was moving, though his words were inaudible. His fingers were twitching, and he didn’t respond to Roman staring at him, until Patton gave them two plates with a grilled cheese each and put them down a little harder than necessary to capture their attention. Damien jumped and Patton gave Roman a bottle of ketchup. “Enjoy the sandwiches,” Patton said. “And Damien, please try and stay in this dimension a while longer? Your fiancé could probably use a little company.”

Damien turned pink and Roman just laughed as he squirted ketchup onto his plate. “I argue that any respectful company is good company, so it doesn’t have to be Damien who engages me in conversation,” Roman said, looking at Patton. “Would you want to stay and chat for a while?”

“Sure,” Patton said, grabbing a stool and sitting across from Patton and Damien at the counter.

Damien sighed. “You know, Roman, if you didn’t have such an odd choice in food-and I use the word food very, very loosely-I would argue you would be an ideal candidate for any suitor or suitress you’d happen to find.”

Roman paused right before he dipped his grilled cheese in ketchup. “Wait. Did I not tell you?”

“Not tell me...what?” Damien asked. “Because we have the whole transgender part of your identity sorted.”

“But did I tell you my orientation?” Roman asked.

“...No,” Damien said after a moment of thought. “I don’t believe so.”

“I’m gay,” Roman said, with a slightly hysterical laugh. “I’m a transgender gay man.”

“Oh,” Damien said. “So we can drool over men we find attractive together, got it.”

Roman snorted, and Patton giggled at them. “You two already seem so relaxed together,” he noted. “You may as well have known each other your whole lives.”

Damien shrugged. “Well, Roman is remarkably good company,” he said.

“Shut up,” Roman mumbled, cheeks heating up. “You’re not half bad yourself.”

Damien offered Roman a toothy grin at that, and Roman resisted the urge to blush harder. Instead, he elected to dip his grilled cheese into the awaiting ketchup and took a bite, humming. “Patton, this grilled cheese is amazing.”

“I still say that dipping it in ketchup is disgusting,” Damien protested.

“Have you ever tried it dipped in ketchup?” Roman asked.

“Do I have to?” Damien asked, wrinkling his nose.

“If you want a stance on this subject, yes,” Roman said, taking a slice of Damien’s grilled cheese and dipping a corner in ketchup before offering it to Damien.

Damien looked disgusted but took the sandwich and bit off the corner covered in ketchup. He frowned, chewing it slowly, before swallowing. Roman waited with baited breath for Damien’s verdict. “That’s not half bad, actually.”

“Yes!” Roman cheered, throwing a fist into the air. “I knew you’d like it if only you tried it! I was right!”

“Shut up and pass me the ketchup bottle,” Damien grumbled, hand out.

Roman obliged and the three slowly but surely started up conversation.

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[arigatouiris]

a bit of cheese killed nobody // steve rogers

Author’s Note: This was requested by @witch-of-letters, and I am so sorry for the delay! I hope you like this~ I did change it a bit where I gave her a backstory of how she became super, and mostly from a reader’s perspective to make it a tad bit more romantic. (Come on, we all like romance, right?)

Word count: 2716

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Stark! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, stark!reader, domestic Steve

Things have never been the same for you since before the battle of New York.

Your father, Tony Stark, was almost certain he was going to lose you. When Loki intercepted Clint and Selvig and turned them into his side, things worked differently with you. Selvig had informed how you were a graduate of MIT, one of the smartest people in the world rivalling Jane herself. Having been nominated for the Nobel Prize for Physics, you were exactly like your father when it came to intellect, but personality wise, you were a charm.

However, when Loki was informed that you would be a great help in his team, he tried to turn you as he had Clint and Selvig, but your mind didn’t let you. The stone in Loki’s scepter turned your body numb—there were no inputs or outputs, you were put under a coma that was slowly killing you from the inside. Because your mind had resisted the brainwashing, your body was also fighting back—or that was what was told to Tony.

You were a product of a love affair gone wrong, and yet, Tony had given you everything. Despite being merely 21 when he was given the responsibility of being a father, Tony had tried with you more than he had tried with anyone or anything else. You were there when he was being his irrational, playboy self, and you were there when he transitioned into a more serious individual. All through it however, he had been nothing short of a loving father.

Nevertheless, the experience scared him. After the battle of New York, when he saw you there, asleep in a coma no one knew you could come out of, Steve Rogers was the one who suggested something.

Injecting you with the super serum. It worked like a kickstart, which sometimes aided in bringing out responses needed to develop potentials required for inputs. With it, you may wake up. And even if the odds were not in his favor, Tony took that chance. It worked, but not in the way he had expected it to. You were clearly in a lot of pain, it had not worked on you as it had worked on Steve. You were screaming and wailing in pain, and it was Tony’s hand you were gripping through it all, as he worried and fretted over seeing you in pain.

In those aching moments, you could hear Steve Roger’s voice, strangely. He was talking to you, telling you to calm down, telling you nice things like how worried Tony was, how everyone was waiting for you on the other side, how you were being so brave. Words that almost didn’t make sense to you, but you listened.

When you came to, it was the first time you had seen your father cry. It was after that Tony became a bit too protective over you, resulting in a semi-fallout between the both of you. You continued training now, wanting to learn how to defend yourself better—and with the super soldier abilities, there were a great many changes in your body that you couldn’t quite understand. You had approached Steve, someone whose voice was all you heard through the painful stage of your coma, and asked him to train you.

    “I can’t, (y/n),” He said, shaking his head, “Tony wouldn’t like it.”

You were not a child. You were over 20 years of age, you had graduated from MIT as a topper, almost won a Nobel prize, you were not taking no for an answer.

You grabbed Steve by his arm and pushed him to the wall, before kicking him from below and forcing him to the ground. He looked stunned, but you were not done. You twisted his arm and turned him over before pushing him further into the ground. He could feel pain, but there was something that made him stop moving entirely.

    “Before I accidentally hurt someone who’s not a super soldier, I’d advise you to teach me how to control this, Captain.”

Your training with Steve helped both of you. Tony was not pleased with this as Steve had told him, since the Cap didn’t want to go behind your father’s back. However, there was no stopping you. The stubbornness was too much like him, he knew what would happen if he tried to enforce his decision on you. You were a genius like him, and if you rebelled, he knew you’d not make it easy.

Getting to know Steve made things confusing for you. You knew the man was old enough to be your grandfather, but he was frozen in time—he was asleep and hadn’t aged, so even if technically and biologically he was very old, Steve was mentally just close to 30. It wasn’t hard for you to develop quick feelings for him as the both of you trained, considering Steve was a gentleman and there was no need to even pretend to be anyone else with him.

    “That’ll be it for today.” He said, handing you a towel.

You took the towel from him and nodded, “Alright. Hope I didn’t tire you out, old man.”

Steve chuckled before stretching his arms, “Not even close, Stark. You need to work on your kicks.”

    “Oh?” You placed a leg on top of a stool and lunged, showcasing your leg to Steve as you stretched your leg muscles. “I’ll work on it.”

Steve looked away before sighing. He knew you were flirting with him, he knew you were interested in him—and what made it worse was that he was starting to feel the same. Natasha had already mentioned to him about asking you out, but it was him who declined. He couldn’t do that to Tony, he couldn’t do that to a friend. However, there were moments when this self-control became quite hard to resist.

    “Is there a reason why you’re holding back?” You asked, hitting the nail right where it hurt.

Steve looked at you with wide eyes before shaking his head, “What do you mean? I never hold back when we’re—”

    “Not when we’re fighting, Steve,” You said, coming to a standing position. You took two steps closer to Steve and folded your arms in front of your chest, “Otherwise.”

    “I don’t follow.” He said, not breaking eye contact.

    “Do you want me to explain it to you?” You asked, smirking at him, but noticed him tense his features.

    “(y/n),” He said, shaking his head. He loosened his shoulders, “I… I can’t. We can’t.”

Your eyes widened. So he did understand what you were trying to say. If he understood this, then it meant that he had thought of you along the same lines. You weren’t an idiot, you knew what was holding him back, you knew it was the whole tension with your father that made things confusing for him. And especially since his age was a problem factor for him. Your eyes softened as you approached him, but Steve held out a hand.

You pushed his hand aside and stepped closer, inches away from him. Steve looked at you before placing a hand on your shoulder, pushing you away slightly. He could see the hurt in your eyes, but there was no way he could allow himself to do this.

    “Steve,” You whispered, staring into his eyes, “Is it my father you’re worried about?”

Steve’s eyes did not leave yours. You could see the dilemma in the blue of his eyes, you could see how he was torn fighting with himself about this. You slowly reached forward and placed a hand on his cheek, before chuckling once.

    “You silly, silly man.” You said, leaning forward to peck him on his lips.

You could feel his tense shoulders, you could now feel his breathing increase. You knew he was uncomfortable, but not because you were doing something he didn’t want you to do. It was everything—Tony, you, the new century he was in, everything came into this.

Pushing you away slowly, “Tony—”

    “My father and I might not be on great terms right now but we love each other more than anything in the world. And if I choose you,” You pressed a pointed finger to Steve’s chest. “Then he will have to accept. And besides, you’re a true gentleman, Steve. You really have nothing to worry about. We can do this. As slowly and in the pace you want to go with. You decide. That is if you’ll have me, Captain.”

Steve placed both of his hands at the side of your face and pressed his forehead to yours. You could feel him take every bit of your breath away.

    “I love the way you call me Captain,” He said, kissing you squarely on the lips. You kissed back, wrapping your hands around his form, feeling his hands circle around you. After what felt like an hour, you pulled apart, to find Steve smiling at you, “It’ll always be you.”

*

Perhaps, the changing point of your life came when you had to choose between your father and Steve. You decided not to take part, to say goodbyes to both of them, since choosing one between both was impossible. You had reconciled with Tony after getting together with Steve. Though he was not happy with the decision you had made in finding your suitor, he was beyond pleased to know it was not some random douche from your college.

However, when your father and Steve had that fallout, things got tense. You had no clue where Steve had gone off to, it had been two years since you had last heard from him, but in your heart you knew you still loved him. You could not move on from Steve, you couldn’t even think of wanting anyone else as you had wanted him, and you were secretly hoping that he could come give you some sign that he was still out there, waiting for you, as you were for him.

It had been two years since your father and Steve had the fallout, Tony had gotten back together with Pepper and he was happy. Pepper was there for you when you told her you missed Steve, as she wasn’t too fond of the news of the fallout either. You were beyond happy that it was her that your father was in love with, and seeing them happy made you happy; but at the same time, it developed a hole in your heart as you always thought Steve.

You knew you loved him. You were going to tell him, you were going to tell him you loved him just before he realized Bucky was the Winter Soldier. So, you put it off. You put it off thinking you can tell him some other time, but it’s been two years and you didn’t have that chance.

It was 5 a.m. in the morning and you woke up from missing Steve. You went for a jog because you couldn’t stay indoors. There was literally no one on the street as you ran, but you felt a presence from behind you. You stopped and turned around and spotted none other than Steve, bearded and hair grown out, looking at you with disappointed eyes.

You wanted to hit him. You were angry enough to slap him, but you ran to him and hugged him because his eyes were sad.

And the only thing you could say, apart from the thousand other things coursing through your mind, was a simple sentence.

   “I love you, Steve. I love you so much.”

Steve held you and cradled you, before repeating the same, over and over and over again. You could feel his entire body shake as he held you, before you pulled back and kissed him hard against his face. You put your heart and soul into the kiss, communicating everything that you had missed about him in those two years. In that kiss, you had let him know you waited for him and you would for years to come.

    “I can’t do this without you.” You said, tears falling down your eyes.

    “We have to.”

And with just that one sentence, you knew Steve was for you as you were for him. He may have been in the ice for that long, but your heart belonged to him. There may be no reason for these events to have occurred, but to you, they happened so that you could meet Steve and he could meet you. You were never a believer in fate, but here it was: happening right in front of you.

*

You could recount every single moment with Steve and yourself and count the happy ones among the sad ones. There were a few memories over the other that let you know you loved him, and there were a few that made you realize that he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. But, if there was one moment that you thought topped everything else (and with a man like Steve, there were a lot of such moments), then it had to be three months after Thanos was defeated.

You missed your father with everything you had. However, you understood the sacrifice he had to make. You knew the kind of person he was, and you knew he didn’t regret this decision. You now had Morgan to take care of, and you loved her with all your heart. Pepper was there for you, a mother figure you never had.

Three months after Thanos was defeated, and the stones were returned, you discovered that you were pregnant.

And since you had taken the serum, Pepper had advised you to go check with a doctor—who had then told you that you were carrying twins. You couldn’t tell the gender of the babies yet, but you were hyper-excited to let Steve know. You knew how happy he would be, because all he wanted was a family, after all. Nevertheless, you were also a bit scared.

You walked into the house you shared with him and noticed him reading a book in the living room. Sometimes, you couldn’t believe how handsome he was; and you couldn’t believe that you were together with a man like him.

    “Steve?”

He looked up at the sound of your voice and smiled.

    “What’re you reading there?” You asked, sitting down beside him.

He leaned forward and kissed you on your cheek, making you giggle before kissing his nose. You hugged you from the side, as you were now pressed to his chest, his chin resting on your head.

    “What’s gotten you so affectionate?” You giggled before pulling away.

    “I’m just so… fortunate,” he said, sighing. “You can’t imagine how many times you’ve saved me.”

You blinked before looking up at him. “What do you mean?”

    “Each time I almost lost my life, you flashed before me. I’d think of how much I’d be leaving behind if I didn’t make it out of that fight. And each time, I won because of you.”

You felt your heart melt at his words, but you didn’t say anything. Something told you he wasn’t done.

    “I know you don’t like grand gestures, I know you inside and out now because you know me the same. There’s no one on earth I’d rather be than with you. And I don’t know how else to ask you this except like this. With you in my arms as I’m mumbling this.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at him, as he took out a small box from his pocket. You stared at him, your eyes unmoving.

    “No fucking way.”

Steve rolled his eyes at your choice of words.

    “(y/n), will you do the—”

    “No fucking way, Steve!”

His eyes widened, “A-Are you saying no?”

    “No! I mean, no. I have something to tell you, oh my god.”

    “What is it?”

    “I have two super babies growing inside of me, so yes, Steve Rogers, I will marry you.”

Steve’s eyes widened like saucers. His mouth fell agap, as he held you and hugged you, causing you to giggle giddily.

    “But, wait,” Steve stopped for a moment. “Two?”

You chuckled, “Yes, two. I hope they’re boys.”

Steve grinned before kissing you deeply, “Nah. Something tells me they’re girls.”

[migleefulmoments]

So... Abby responds to her family's intervention by obediently telling them she'll stop (ie. lying to them). She then immediately tries to find ways to keep the blog in secret, hiding behind various usernames, lurking on her coven's blogs, more time deleting posts from both blogs we know about. Meaning, instead of getting help, she spends even MORE time online engaging in more batshit crazy crap to cover her ass. Yeah, sure, that doesn't signal dire need for mental health intervention AT ALL.

It looks like that is what is happening.  We will have to see what the future holds. What does Abby do? 

So far the fandom is flailing. Cassie got a couple of anons- one that reads like those anons Abby used to send herself as it covers all the issues they are most upset about so perfectly well (My comments in parenthesis and italicized:: 

Anonymous asked: Even if I am unsure about CC itself, I don't buy M*arr*n. I just don't. And the other side is using doxing and the fact that you and others say things they don't like about M as an excuse to do so and as a way to detract from the fact that their couple goals have some pretty big, glaring plot holes in their love story. I've not seen anyone on this side of the fandom out or dox anyone publicly as a way of humiliation. M gave up her privacy by dating D, but Abby didn't and they were wrong. Period. 

cassie1022 answered: Nonnie, I swear every time they diagnose us as mentally ill or say we’re bitter hags, an LGBTQ angel gets his or her wings. We all know my beliefs, but there are MANY people that are like you and don’t know for sure about CC but sure as hell know Miarren isn’t a normal, healthy relationship. (Funny thing, I don’t remember anyone diagnosing Cassie as mentally ill. Cassie is alwasy the wallflower that nobody wants to dance with and she tries so hard to be part of the fun people. Last week she was sad because I hadn’t sent her a “hate” message (See comment in last post below) 

Even if I remove D from the situation, I would still think M is a lazy, spoiled toddler with no discernable work ethic coupled with a superiority complex that rivals the Cheeto in Command of the US.

You are absolutely correct. Our fandom just wants to be left alone. We don’t send hateful asks to the other side. We don’t have to. They feel they have the right to dox CCers because they don’t like what we say about M, a woman that would light a cigarette from the flames engulfing them and not call 911 to help them. I mean, honestly, it doesn’t get much lower than mocking someone’s death. Plus, as you correctly said, M put herself in the spotlight “dating” D. If she didn’t want that attention, she would have stayed in the background. There are plenty of celebrities married to non famous people and we don’t see them at every event like we do M. (It is BAFFLING to me that they can’t comprhend something as simple and obvious as the reasaon they “see Mia everywhere” is because they fucking stalk her and they hyperanalzye every photo Darren is in looking for her. If they started stalking Ben Feldman they would see his wife just as much as they see Mia).    

Bottom line is what they did to Abby was deplorable, but, just like their kween, they feel justified in doing whatever they want. This isn’t the first time they’ve crossed a line with regards to my friend, but it was the worst.

notes-from-nowhere Anon, they love to throw the guilt of their actions on our shoulders, it’s how they justify what they do to themselves. They need us to be the bad guys otherwise what is the only option left? (I never know what the hell Notes is trying to say- throw the guilt of our actions on their shoulders? I’d love an example of that. I can’t imagine what guilty action I put on their shoulder. As for needing them to be the bad guys or what do we have left? OMFG are you kidding me? We critcize the cc fandom for being misogynistic, homophobic, bullies who attack  Mia, Darren, Ricky and their own Nonnies. They have viscioulsy attacked people in their own fandom who dared to question them. But the biggest reason we push back is because THEY LIE. All the damn time. So what do we have left? Being on the right side, being correct, not lying, not needing to lie, and the joy of watching Darren live his best life)   

Leka got a couple of asks but her answers were weak, confusing and pointless. It’s clear she isn’t ready to take over as their leader. She repeated Abby’s main talking points, tried to use big words to sound smarter and basically ended up not making a lot of sense:

Anonymous asked: I could be wrong, and I hope I am, but I think the character on the HW poster holding the girl is D's character, it would fit if you look at the other guys on the poster, maybe this is already the first hint to show D's character is not gay and so technically not breaking the no more queer roles rule his team set for him. It won't make it any better because it's still a career on the bag of LGBTQ+ people with it's teams but it's technically not a broken rule. I just really need for things to change, I want them to so bad, it kills me seeing someone so kind in a situation like that, and I truly believe D is one of the kindest people in that horrible town. He deserves better than M, I wouldn’t even mind if he goes onto another beard but she and RR just need to go. I really think it’s crazy people still think everything HW is real and PR relationships don’t exist, I wished that place was just better and had a moral compass, people deserve more it kind of shows just how jaded this situation has made me, I can’t even enjoy amazing promo material without directly twisting it into something negative, I don’t want to be this way and if I feel like this I can’t even imagine how D must feel. He is stronger than I’ll ever be living through hell every day, even if he’s not ok he’s still here and holding on, I don’t know if I could in his position. Sorry for the long message and the unneeded negativity, I guess I just had to vent a little

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

Leka answered: So let’s look at the way HW is described:

“Each character offers a unique glimpse behind the gilded curtain of Hollywood’s Golden Age, spotlighting the unfair systems and biases across race, gender and sexuality that continue to this day. Provocative and incisive, HOLLYWOOD exposes and examines decades-old power dynamics, and what the entertainment landscape might look like if they had been dismantled.”

I do consider this the very intriguing thing about the news. (And it just goes to show that believing everything you’re sold is being utterly and completely ignorant.) Let’s say you’re right because ofc it’s possible. How does R/aymond fit in here? Given the excessive way team shit has pushed that article, a technicality won’t be good enough. There has to be a better plan. This doesn’t match what’s been said in his name.

What I think is this doesn’t necessarily have to mean much. You know very well what you see doesn’t have to be the (full) truth. That doesn’t just apply to the real HW. Especially considering the time period of this show. And let’s not forget the pap pics we got at a gas station. This doesn’t rule out SB as an inspiration. I would advise anyone to read up on him. We don’t know at this point. As we keep saying, the best thing to do is to wait and see. I’m certainly interested in finding out more.

As time goes on, the danger of this situation keeps becoming even clearer to me. D deserves much, much better. He’s incredibly strong, but the most toxic person in his life needs to go and she’s more than welcome to take the jumping jackass with her. That’s definitely the most important thing right now. (I’m curious what the danger of Hollywood is?)

awesome-fanfictionada: @leka-1998I’m just wondering - it must have been D who got himself this job on HW, right? Couldn’t this have been done on purpose to counter that ridiculous statement - which wasn’t even accurate, if the source was that interview where he stated that he wouldn’t want to be a casting director? Could in this case RM be a friend?

leka-1998:  @awesome-fanfictionada Yes, he did that himself. Again. And he said the show’s been sold late in 2018. According to an article that came out later, it happened in February 2019. Not true.

HW has been a thing before that statement was made, which is indeed very different from the answer D himself gave during the interview. That’s what makes the article seem like sabotage by team shit. And standing in RM’s way is never a good idea. So while I will obviously never like him, I’m reserving judgment on his current role until we know more.

Anonymous asked: The underlying issue in general is really that social media has made it so people think they get an accurate glimpse into the lives of celebrities, when in reality social media, like everything else that is publicly released about them, is used as a marketing tool. People are actually more inauthentic than they've ever been because they feel pressure to maintain a certain image for social media at all times. So anyone who decides D is living honestly, it's because they want to believe he is.

Leka: True, nonnie. Just look at the text lines that are becoming more popular again. Not nearly as genuine as people want to believe. In D’s case, what has to be brought up? M. Oh Halloween and her amazing shopping skills praised on SM. The work fam honeymoon pic promoting the place they stayed at. Coa/chella for the H&M ad. Mardi Gras posted shortly after the mockery to promote the designer. I could obviously go on. Most of what we see on SM shows the person the 10 year crew wants him to be. And what looks like a split personality if you compare certain posts. Which brings me back to ‘they want to believe’, as what you’re saying clearly isn’t a secret. Anyone can choose to ignore it but at this point, if that’s the case even though you’re more or less paying attention, it’s really a conscious decision.

Oh btw, there’s a HW IG account now and it already has a D follow. Imagine that. R/oyalties co-stars, anyone?

Flowers didn’t get any asks. Amazing since she has more followers than I do and she bragged about getting more “notes” than me.  She did answer azscc who posted an odd rant that baffles me.  Who the fuck is azscc and who is posting anything about her? I realize I am not the only person in this fandom posting about ccers But I just checked all the blogs that I know of and nobody is talking about her; 

azsc  its so weird how chillarrens call me a bully while i only say something rude towards them if they write bullshit towards me. and its just ironic how chillarrens go around calling people bullies while they are the reason why tons of cc accounts use their accounts private or don’t post their opinions and etc. the real threat to the fandom are people like you. so instead of going around throwing shit on people and calling them “mental, delusional...” get a life. no cc believer goes around hunting for chillarren pics and insult the account owner so why don’t you all grow up and realize no one has to agree with your opinions. every crisscolfer blog/twitter page/insta acc basically stan accs never asked for your opinions on their pages so why don’t you just let it go? no one cares about what you all say or do so why are you forcing it this much?

call me a bully i am pretty much okay with that. its obvious that people are unable to understand basic sarcasm and irony and i am not judging because to actually understand what people say you have to at least have an average IQ level. and if you don’t have it, it’s okay but that doesn’t mean you can twist people’s words and post them all over the internet. but its lowkey really funny that i only had my instagram acc for something like 4/5 months and i received over 300 hate/insult/blackmail/death wish messages and etc. and who are you people to call us bullies? (Nobody is a Chillarren. Darren and Mia are married and Chris and Will are in a long-term relationsihp,  Nobody has to “ship” them in order to believe they are together. In America, we accept that when someone introduces their wife or their boyfriend they are telling the truth. It is customary to address that person as their wife or boyfriend respectively. The crisscolfers on the other hand, must use a fandom ship name because they are shipping two people who are not in a relationship and never were. All evidence indicates Chris and Darren are no long friends; they are nothing more than former co-workers-friendly and polite when they see one another but no longer involved in one another’s lives. Chris and Darren both have denied (more than once) that the were ever in a relationship).  .   

flowersintheattic254 I have never in my whole time here posted an anon to a Miarren account. I have no desire to. I’m confident in my beliefs.

The interesting thing for me is that I’ve been here for about four years now and in that time I’ve seen the head of the fandom disappear, other people disappear because their families have been doxed, established long-term cc blogs with a wealth of history deleted without warning. I myself have had my daughters threatened.  This sort of stuff doesn’t happen anywhere in the fandom but here here. If we are a bunch of delusional crazy middle-aged women then this shouldn’t happen. (Who was doxed? Who dissappered? It’s all “liar liar” with everything ccers say. In the last 4 years Abby has been the only leader of the cc fandom. Michelle left between 4 and 5 years ago because her outrageious cc comments threatened her ability to raise money for her little Klaine-fanfic rip-off movie. I vaguely remember someone asking flowers how her daugther’s would feel if they read what she writes- hardly a threat. If there was something more she never posted any proof. As for blogs being deleted- so was D-Criss News.  It happens. The only cc blog that I know of that disappeared was DisneyPrincessModelWorld’s original blog which had was a hot mess of lies and catfishing. She visciously bullied Mia. Hardly someone to mourn their blog being deleted). 

It’s shocking that an actor may lgbt causes such drama. (HUH?)

Flower’s comment is so disingenuous. While it is technically true -she hasn’t sent me anons, she HAS instead publically ridiculed me and frankly, I can’t see how that is any different? I’d say it’s worse because they wanted their followers to see what they wrote and the only way to ensure that is to post it on their blogs. Flowers and Abby posted many public “Michy” posts.  Here is her most recent: 

flowersintheattic254Oh and I guess Michy sent us all some hate today.

I guess I have way more followers than you and only about 4 that send hate. You haven’t for ages.

I think I have over 70,000 hits currently to my blog. I must be saying something interesting.

He’s been married allegedly for a year and people still doubt. That’s gotta hurt you. Anyway......

✌️

ajw720 Michy told me today today that the outing couldn’t possibly be promo, because JS was only cast in September!  What a moron who clearly doesn’t know how HW works.  Sweetheart, it was ANNOUNCED in September;)

I was waiting for a few more months, but in 4 years, since i have been tracking, i have almost a million! (976,695 to be precise).

It is amazing that so many people care about what us bat shit crazy, irrelevant, psychologically unstable, threatening, hateful tin hats have to say!  And that does not include people reading on their dash or that hit you on the app!  So yep, Michy, clearly what we are saying is being monitored by someone.  And clearing making people think!! But you keep wasting your time writing for your audience of 4:)

cassie102 I feel left out, Michy didn't come at me today. Must hurt like hell knowing you're a joke that perpetuates a bigger joke.

leka-1998 Birds of a fake feather flock together. When the right person says tomorrow’s Christmas, tomorrow’s Christmas. Get ready, everyone.

If I narrow it down to the last six months, about 10,000 btw. Hm strange.

flowersintheattic254 @ajw720 the number of hits you have give me oxygen. If Michy thinks they are haters then she is delusional. People know when they are being sold something fake and they look for answers.

[jamlessness]

first lady, six.

pairing: taehyung x reader. word count: 4.4k content: angst, inappropriate language, ice hockey!au a/n: first off, i’d like to dedicate this chapter to the amazing @jangjangboom7​ that has been dealing with my shitty self lately and still being so wonderful and i love her for that; also to the lovely @uberbabetae​ that’s my yelling partner at hockey matches and rival for the day, you’re the best and i love you; last but not least to the absolute angel that @seaseok​ is! i love you, beautiful being! i also wanna thank all of you for the love you’ve been given first lady, y’all have a special place in my heart!now prepare the tissues and enjoy.

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Voices surrounded you the whole time and now that your eyes began to feel lighter, the voices finally seemed to carry a clear message with them. You felt Yoongi’s angst when he asked how could it be possible - you had no idea of what it was but for your brother to react just like that, it had to be something hell serious for sure. You felt you father’s concern when he asked why did you pass out if the whole problem was your knee and it didn’t take much effort to catch up with the nurse when she said that it was just too much pain for your body to process.

But, more than anything, you felt your mother’s sorrow as she requested silence.

You also felt how incredibly warm your left hand was compared to the right one and that’s when you knew you should try to break through the darkness and fight to open your eyes.

A painful grunt came from the back of your throat as your irises welcomed back the artificial lightening of your room and it all fell silent for a moment.

Doe, teary eyes found yours almost immediately and, even though you were still confused, you knew it was the first time ever seeing your mother like this.

“Eomma… Don’t cry…” you mumbled weakly, making her sniff and shake her head fiercely as her hand came to caress your cheek. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“Yes, you are, honey bee.” you didn’t have the energy to be surprised by your childhood nickname reaching your ears out of nowhere and it was only less shocking than to hear your mom so apprehensive. What the hell have happened?

“We won the game, right?” with your eyebrows knitted together, you asked for the one thing that could have gone wrong as the nurse came to check your reflexes.

“Paboya!” Yoongi directed to you for the first time since you woke up. “You’ve got us dead worried and all you care about is the game?”

“I gotta know if it was worth the hit!” you replied, smiling as you had the opportunity to watch him chuckle nervously and curse under his breath.

“The boys nailed the overtime. Hong with the winning goal so no need to worry, babe.” as if your father’s voice wasn’t enough to make you dizzy, he head to call you by that name. The change in the atmosphere was clear and you didn’t dare to look his way, afraid that you couldn’t hold back from the urge to punch your own father.

You were ready to tell him to never call you that again when the mortifying sensation of someone stepping in different parts of your body at the same time hit you like a truck. Your hands instinctively flew to hold your forehead as a groan passed by your widely parted lips. Out of habit, you tried to curl yourself so you could manage to support the feeling but a sharper pain, initiated in your right knee, sent electrical waves to every nerve and muscle of your body, making it impossible not to scream.

Your family’s desperate attempts to make you calm down never worked out. The nursing team got to action not only in assisting you but also in expelling the Mins out of the room since it was stressing you out and making you no good.

“Did you really had to bring that up?” your mom shot the moment she realized they just wouldn’t let the three of them back in the room - at least not together. Both her son and husband looked at her as her eyes furiously lit up while referring to the eldest.

“What? Is it my fault now?” he scoffed in disbelief.

“How could you simply talk about the game after what happened?”

“She asked about it! We both know Y/N-ie would go crazy if she didn’t hear about it!”

Yoongi shut his eyes closed and took the deepest breath as the argument escalated right in front of him. He knew how dense his parents could be and honestly felt like an idiot for expecting that it’d be any different because you were involved - since they tended to save it for later when you were around.

They have been blaming each other for the littlest things since before he was born, why did he hope it to be otherwise now that something so serious happened? They couldn’t even consider how devastating news awaited for you, they had to keep playing that game were who screams louder, wins. No, your fragile state was not enough to keep a white flag held high while they worked on their shared concerns for awhile. It was just another excuse to being another war.

Yoongi knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it back for much longer, not when he knew what you’ve been through before the game and what expected you after that night. Even though he kept in mind that he should play it cool for you, he also knew that there was always the option of being done with your parents’ shit - one you’d easily forgive later and the most tempting one at the moment.

“Could the both of you stop bitching for a second and listen to me?” he asked before opening his eyes, only to find his parents blankly staring at him as he silently prayed for wisdom. “Y/N knows about the divorce and she knows about Bomi so it’d be really helpful if the two of you didn’t treat her like a baby and stopped blaming the one fucking thing that was keeping her sane.” his words and gaze found his mom and dad once he advised them directly.

He gave himself a mental pat once he realized he kept a constant tone while scolding his own parents. He never thought he’d ever do that but, for the sake of his sister, he’d do anything.

“Did you tell her?” Mr Min was ready to jump in his son with all the conclusions that clouded his head through that brief silence if it wasn’t for his wife’s smooth movement.

Soon enough, they were glaring at each and Yoongi knew another battle was about to happen.

“Excuse me.” the nurse called with a polite smile, making the trio snap their heads in her direction. “Y/N-ssi wants to see her oppa.”

There was no need to be told twice. As soon as Yoongi had the chance, he sneaked in your room just to find your form even more vulnerable than it was a few minutes ago. His heart shrunk and he had to fight back the tears as he approached you.

He knew he’d be one of the few people - if not the only one - to notice that you were putting so much effort to keep a decent conversation with the doctor. Your eyes gave away your brokenness and Yoongi desperately searched his mind for a remedy for your upcoming state given you still didn’t know about the whole situation just yet.

“So this is the beloved oppa!” the doctor joked as Yoongi got close enough, greeting her with a half bow.

“He wasn’t even supposed to be in town but since he is, might as well be live up for the title.” you stated with an uncontainable smile. Every single part of your body hurt by now but to have someone you trusted enough - and could keep himself together - by your side at that moment made it bearable. “If you’d like to proceed…” the suggestion came as your eyes met the doctor’s. It was a dirty hit and you knew it’d take long to recover but still you kept believing that you could be back on ice before the team’s summer camp, so you’d make it in full power for the playoffs.

As you daydreamed about a glorious return to the ice - and a well deserved revenge if your school had the chance to face that stupid captain again -, both your brother and the doctor shared a concerned glance. It was written all over your face that you couldn’t wait to go back and it only made it worse. None of them could predict how you’d take the news and for that, Yoongi judged wise to hold your hand, making you instantly frown at his action.

“Y/N-ssi.” the doctor called sweetly and you turned to face her. “I’m afraid I can’t fulfill your expectations.”

Those words were enough to make your heart race and everything to become a blur as the diagnostic met your senses even though you gave your best to believe otherwise.

Taehyung wasn’t sure where that sound came from - his stomping feet or his heartbeats - but it was getting louder than his thoughts and he was quite grateful for that. Mumbling the number of your room, the captain trained his eyes to every sign he saw, holding tight to the bouquet and the paper bag he had in hands.

He spent the whole sunday drowning in misery, worries and pessimistic thoughts as no one had a clue of your current state or how did your surgery go that it almost felt like a dream when, this morning, Yoongi texted him, asking him if he could come by to see you after class. Alone, he even remarked before explaining thatyou convinced him to travel back to his current home. So Taehyung didn’t even think twice before gathering his stuff and leaving a message for his parents and best mates that he was off to see you and would soon return with news - as if they didn’t knew he’d run to you the moment someone told him he could.

Once he found his destination, Taehyung sighed deeply, pulling off a mental note that making sure your humor was intact was his priority. He knew how you valued your mindset and, honestly, it was the main key for your recovery.

He noticed your knee held high when he opened the door and his concern only increased. Knee injuries were always his biggest fears just like to most of the other players he knew. It was never simple and the complications always came with a massive headache.

The fact that you were awake and turned from the phone to face him once he entered the room was something he took as a good sign but his heart sank the moment he noticed the usual sparkle you held in your stare was gone.

“Who are you?” Mrs Min’s solemn voice resonated until it found the both of you and forced you to break eye contact. Taehyung immediately stepped back, turning to the place your mom eyed him from before respectfully greeting her.

“I’m Kim Taehyung. Your daughter’s friend.” he added, giving her a polite smile even though the eyebrow she cocked never came down.

“I appreciate your intentions but Y/N requested no vis-”

“Could you leave us?” you interrupted, taking the two of them by surprise, four startled eyes darting in your direction right away. “Just for a few minutes.” the magical smile that could get you anything from your parents crossed your lips as you persisted. You mother examined your expression, unable to find a reason to deny you that. She quietly left but not less suspicious. You haven’t even accepted to see your best friend, how could you welcome that boy? “Did my main idiot send you?” you mused, catching his attention back to you. Taehyung shrugged, still a bit uncomfortable with how your mom glared at him but it didn’t stop him to approach you.

“Hyung thought it was a good idea.” he shrugged, making you nod.

“It was. Five more minutes with her and I’d go crazy, seriously!” even when he knew it was nothing but a simple joke, Taehyung couldn’t help but to glare at you just like he would do to any of the guys and you were glad he did. You liked that friend of yours far more than you could comprehend. “Is this for me?” with your chin, you pointed to the presents he brought.

“Yep.” he nodded. “Even though I’m not sure if they’ll allow you to have this.” the chuckle escaped when he was at your bedside before handing you the gifts, especifically referring to the paper bag.

As unwrapping the gift, you couldn’t fight the feeling that came along with his smile as he watched you: you missed your captain and the effects of his mere presence. Taehyung didn’t need to say or do anything for you to know he cared and it made you momentaneously forget about that thunderstorm you were facing.

You smiled widely once you held in your hands the very first jersey you wore as the newest addition to the team, at the wanted and hated center position. It was an easy one to identify since every single person related to the team then have signed it, congratulating you and wishing you a bright future. You could easily recall the comments you heard the moment you were announced as one of the best forwards of the team. She’s a Min, right? I bet they’re only doing this because of her brother. She’s is a girl, she can’t be that good. It only fueled the fire inside of you to prove them all wrong.

And you did.

Exceeding expectations and settling a whole new thought when it came to ice hockey in your town. The rightful, the one and only First Lady.

And now, in a blink of an eye, it was being taken away from you.

You instantly went back to who you were before Taehyung showed up and lit up the whole room: the girl watching the clip they put online of her getting wrecked, dying to each comment under it. The nicest you could find was a “she’s finally proving of her own medicine”; but none of them hurt as much as the first of them - that’s what happens to people who think they deserve the game but do nothing but to disrespect it.

So were you really unworthy of hockey? Was that really karma coming for you after all the trouble you brought to your team? Were you playing the game you so loved in such a wrong way?

Shutting your eyes closed, you clenched the jersey to your chest, fighting the lump that suddenly showed up in your throat and with that Taehyung was lost. Automatically, he came closer, his hands cupping your cheeks as his thumbs wiped your stubborn tears away. You couldn’t help but to melt under his touch.

“Y/N…” he called in a constant tone even though he was desperate for seeing you like this. “Where does it hurt? Just tell me.” it was a plea by the end of it as you shook your head in denial.

“Nowhere that can be fixed.” a bitter chuckle left your lips and Taehyung retreated with wide eyes and a deep frown. He knew that tone way too well.

“Y/N.” he voiced a sutil demand as you swallowed your cry.

“Answer me, Kim.” your eyes found his again, the last bit of confidence you had in yourself was the only thing that kept your head high. “Am I that much of a shame as a player?”

“What?” his immediate reaction was to make a face to the most absurd thing he heard. Taehyung allowed himself to have a second thought since it would be of no help to you. “Where did you get that from?” he asked in a much softer voice with attentive eyes to your every move even when it was as annoying as a roll of your eyes.

“Answer me first.”

“The fact that you’re one of the best players in the country should answer for itself.” his reply came full of calm and seriousness, making it clear that he had no doubt about that. “Now where the hell did you get that from?”

Sighing, you reached for your phone not taking long in showing him the answer. You followed as Taehyung’s face retorted and he replied to every single comment under his breath, not loud enough for you to distinguish his words. Not even an entire minute went by before he gave up reading, telling you that those things were nothing but nonsense coming from untalented people. You chuckled as he kept going with his speech, not holding back the thought that you’d miss listening to him in his captain mode and his pep talk before every game or practice.

Kim Taehyung was a precious leader and friend and you were lucky to have met both.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” you declared, not really ready for the pain those words would cause you - or him: “I’m never playing hockey again.”

“Yes, you are.” once again, he replied the first thing that crossed his mind, making you smile at his innocent honesty.

“No, I’m not.” once again you were fighting your body to contain your tears. You still had some pride left, you wouldn’t let yourself down like that. “That’s how bad this injury is, that’s how bad I busted my knee. That means no playoffs, no scholarship, no Olympics… There’s not one single percent of possibility of me playing professional hockey, Taehyung, I’m done.”

Taehyung blinked slowly as the meaning clouded his mind and gave him time to organize a coherent sequence of words at least. It was still too fresh but there was no way on earth he’d let you give up like this. That was not you. That was not his First Lady.

“Square up, Min.” he called. “You’ll be kicking some ass in that pond real soon and I’ll be just there to annoy the hell out of you.”

When Taehyung got home, later that night, he couldn’t help but to shed a few tears. It was just so unfair and it made no sense at all. How was that even allowed to happen? How could your dream be taken away from you that easily? He knew how much hockey meant to you, especially in that moment of your life when everything was so messed up.

“Oppa?” Eonjin called, knocking on his door after the dinner. “Are you awake?” she insisted when she didn’t get a reply.

“Come in.” he simply responded, fixing his posture as his sister walked in. “What is it?” Taehyung did his best to act like nothing troubled his mind. He only didn’t count on the fact that his sister could read him just as easily as his parents.

“How bad is unnie?” the girl asked gently before taking a seat by his side. He even thought about getting away of the subject but it was not a good option. He sighed instead, polishing his answer before saying anything.

“Worse than she thinks, I guess…” he was honest, getting an acknowledging nod in response.

“We can pray for her if you want to.” Eonjin suggested moving her hands to express her will of doing it and Taehyung effortlessly smiled at that. “And make her snacks for the next time you go visit her.”

“That’s a pretty good idea.” he rose his eyebrows. “I’d like that.”

“I knew you would. I mean, food is the way to a girl’s heart and I figured you’re pretty desperate…”

“You’re a genius, aren’t you?” Taehyung glared at her with small eyes and his sister shrugged.

“Someone had to get the brains.” with a movement mastered over the years, Eonjin avoided her brother’s elbow, smiling triumphantly. “You should ask for forgiveness while praying though.” she added while reaching for his hands.

“I’ll remember that.” Taehyung winked and allowed his sister to lead the brief prayer, not refraining his smile at her cuteness and how much of her heart she put in that prayer.

That was quite understandable. In that house, you were not just the girl he liked. You were also Eonjin’s hero since the little girl looked up to you when it came to her dreams even when she had a captain as her brother. Taehyung wondered if you had any idea of it - that you were a role model for other girls that would soon join the league, that your diagnostic would affect other people like Eonjin and himself.

Again, it was so unfair.

Taehyung then took an oath: he’d stay by your side, no matter what happened.

“Amen.” he repeated right after his sister by the end of the prayer, pulling her to a warm hug on the next second. “Thank you, princess.”

“Whenever you need, captain.” she answered in the same tone before standing on her feet, ready to leave the room. “And oppa?” she called out at the door, catching his stare locked on hers. “Show unnie the bright side. You’re the only one who can do that so don’t hold back, ok?” still processing her words, Taehyung gave her a hum of agreement. “Good night, oppa.”

“Good night, Jinie.” he whispered after she closed the door behind her.

Taehyung barely gave it a deeper thought as his phone caught his attention just by his side.

JIMIN [21:49] y/n just asked me to study with her tomorrow

He knew exactly what it meant. They had practice for the whole afternoon on the next day but Jimin wouldn’t think twice about skipping it to help her. Y/N was not only his team and classmate but also a good friend and if there was something he could do for her, he would and his captain - and best friend - couldn’t be more grateful.

TAEHYUNG [21:50] i can arrange that JIMIN [21:50] thanks JIMIN [21:50] but that’s not the only thing i’m asking tho

Taehyung frowned as soon as he read that. Certainly Jimin had already thought of something to cheer you up and he’d be a part of that.

JIMIN [21:51] have u ever wrote a poem? JIMIN [21:51] u better bc i saved u the first page

A simple, true laugh escaped and Jimin couldn’t help but to look in your direction just as giggly. It was nice seeing you smile for a change. You had been dead serious since he arrived and through the whole study session, as you catched up with the couple days of school you missed, you kept it that way.

When you found his eyes, you held back for a second just because you thought he needed an explanation.

“I thought your grades were good because of your looks.” you pointed to the notebooks opened in front of you. “But you’re actually pretty good in Literature, Park.” his cheeks warmed up in a new color as he kept a smug smile in his face and you couldn’t even blame him for trying to keep his head tall as you mocked him.

“Do I hear an apology?” his left eyebrow raised as he expected a firm denial and that’s how your nod caught him off guard.

“I’m sorry, Park Jimin.” you half bowed and there was no way he could feel more uncomfortable. You weren’t known for openly acknowledging your mistakes and there were just a few people that could say that have heard that from you. Now, Jimin was one of them.

“Malia has the highest grades.” he looked down immediately, gulping in the act and you sighed.

Somehow, you knew he’d bring that up. Malia was your best friend and your study buddy since you could remember. The natural choice was to ask her to help you until you could return. But you had no strength to face her. Knowing how emotive she was, you knew you’d see pity in her eyes and it was more than you could take.

“I’m not ready for her.” you confessed, shaking your head slightly as you mimicked his action to go back to the books. “Not yet.”

Jimin stole a glance from you but refrained himself to ask any further questions about it. You had the right to keep your feelings to yourself at least.

He barely interrupted as the afternoon passed by, saving a few jokes for the moments you got stressed out. By the end of it, your relief for being able to hold back your questions about the team reflected in your eyes. It bothered Jimin, of course, but he had been warned about that.

When it was finally time for him to leave, you settled for friday as a date for your next study session to which he agreed right away.

“I almost forgot.” he said in a high pitched voice, startling you while turning on his heels and walking back to you. He took out of his pocket a tiny sketchbook and delicately placed it in your bedside. “This is from your team, Min. You still got one.”

For the first time ever you have been affected by Park Jimin’s combo of sweet voice, lovely gaze and melting smile and he surely wasn’t trying to get anything from you. In fact, he was the giver right now. Jimin was giving you a glimpse of the personal amount of faith he had in you - the faith your team had in you.

Once Jimin was no longer in the room, you gathered courage to take the sketchbook and see the doodles on the cover, lines you knew too well. Gently passing your fingertips over it, you couldn’t help but smile as you imagined Jungkook putting together all the things he related to you - from food, to words and, of course, illustrations of you beating someone. His signature on the left corner had a heart below it with your initials inside and it made you laugh and take a mental note of hitting him when you had the chance.

You bit your lip once you turned the page and the simple sight of a familiar handwriting made your heart race.

Not a poem about Y/N: When I first saw her, she walked like she owned the world And boy, she did She didn’t know it just yet Still doesn’t And that’s why I promised To trust and to care To love and to dare Until she finds out who rules the world Then I’ll just keep on doing it To trust and to care To love and to dare Until she decides I’m no longer hers And even then I won’t take my heart back Because of this other promise I’ve made For this small First Lady of mine, of course

[rauliskafan]

A Hard Lesson in Illusions: Chapter 3

Authors’ Note: What’s going on with Rafael? Natalia wants to know, and we know that you are all curious, too!!! Read on to find out more. @vintagemichelle91 and I hope that you enjoy!!! 

        “There is no way I am letting you leave this house, Atticus.”  

         Natalia stood at the foot of their bed with her arms crossed over her chest. Seeing her reflection in the mirror, Rafael sensed her frustration. But he’d spent the better part of the morning chalking everything and anything up to stress, his current caseload… Ward pushing him to his limits. Heaving a heavy sigh, he finished knotting his tie, the pain in his head nothing compared to the ache in his heart when confronted by the look on Natalia’s face.

           And yet…

           “I can’t stay inside and do nothing all day,” he protested with what he hoped was a reasoned argument.

           She shook her head, her loose locks bouncing with each twist of her neck. “Rest is not nothing. Especially when you need it most.”

           “I’m alright,” Rafael countered, suddenly feeling as if he was already in court.

           “One day will not kill you, Rafael,” Natalia said sternly.

           “Debatable. I have too much to do and I can’t fall behind.”

           “I’m sure that Carmen can—”

           Rafael turned around to face her, his eyes narrowing as his headache intensified. “No, she can’t Natalia. She already has enough on her own plate. Can we drop this?”

           Flinching, Natalia ripped her gaze away. But not soon enough to save him from seeing her tears. Which was never part of the plan. All she wanted was to take care of him, to make sure that they were safe. And he’d cut her down. Her gorgeous brown eyes brimmed with tears as she let out a shaky breath, and he gently took her trembling frame into his arms.

           “Hermosa, I’m sorry.” he implored. “Please don’t be sad.”

           “Then don’t leave,” she said.

           “It’s a summer flu or—”

           “What if it’s something else?” she challenged, her voice hitching as she held his face. “You’re so pale. I know you didn’t sleep soundly.”

           “How do you know that?” he asked, even as he recalled a night spent tossing and turning, unable to find any real rest.

           “Because I was up every hour checking on you,” she admitted. “I… I didn’t say anything.”

           “You should have,” he murmured. “I mean… if we were both up…”

           Caressing her chin, he chuckled softly and held her, Natalia’s embrace tightening as he silently searched for a way to put her mind at ease.

           “I’m willing to work out a deal,” he said after a few moments.

           “You want to work out a deal for your health?” Natalia’s head shot up in question.

           “I swear it’s a good one.”

           Natalia groaned. “I don’t know if I… but let’s hear it.”

           Squeezing her closer, he slowly claimed her soft lips... the best medicine of all. “I promise that if this damn headache gets worse, I’ll call it a day.”

           “And no bringing legal briefs home with you?” she asked.

           “They will be left behind on my desk,” Rafael promised.

           He waited while she seemed lost in thought, her tears subsiding as she patted his cheek and smoothed her gentle hands over his vest. When she finally smiled, the pain was almost gone.

           “Your phone will be placed on silent as soon as you walk through that door, Atticus.”

           “Are we negotiating, hermosa.”

           “Always,” she said.

           “And here I thought you weren’t a fan of The Devil’s Advocate,” he quipped.

           “I’ll do or say whatever I have to get you home as soon as possible.”

           Rafael hesitated slightly, but the look in her eyes advised him to take the deal. “Fine. Better yet I’ll hand the phone over to you.”

           “So not on silent?” she asked.

           “If there’s an emergency, I have to be—”

           “Point taken,” she said, nuzzling his neck. “I’ll accept your terms.”

           “You drive a hard bargain, hermosa,” Rafael whispered into her hair.

           Natalia smirked. “I only learned from the best.”

           One more kiss. Then one more. They passed by the nursery, Violetta still dreaming as he approached her slowly, lifting the funny little mask to kiss her nose.

           “Keep an eye on Mami for me,” he murmured.

           “After she comes back from playing with Jesse,” Natalia reminded him.

           “We’re going to owe Rollins big time,” he said.

           “Stop,” Natalia chided. “They’re much friendlier since the wedding.”

           “And Noah’s still probably hiding out in New Jersey out of fear of becoming our future son-in-law.”

            “Not nice,” she said.

            “But a little bit true?” he countered.

            “Maybe just a touch; our daughter is stubborn. Wonder where she gets that from.”

            “It’s a mystery,” he said with a wink as Natalia walked him to the door, rubbing her fingers down his arms, and clasping his hands. When he stared into her eyes, he saw the dark circles dominant in the pale morning light.

           “Try to take a nap if you can,” he suggested.

           “I’ll wait to sleep with you, Atticus.”

           “I like the sound of that,” he said with one last kiss. Deciding that a walk would do him some good, Rafael made his way down the street, Natalia consuming his thoughts, his mind a little clearer with each step. He never should have snapped at her, would have to make it up to her come dinner time. Maybe Carmen could lend him a hand. The rest was up to him.

            “I need you to do a couple things for me, please.” Immediately upon his arrival he motioned for Carmen to follow him into his office. With pen and pad in hand she glanced up at Rafael.

           “Here to help, Mr. Barba.”

           “First things first. Can you order some gardenias for my wife? I’ll give you the note in just a minute.” Rafael set his briefcase down and hung his suit jacket on the rack. His eyes skimmed the briefs that were waiting for him on his desk. How could he have stayed home? “And get me a copy of the ME’s report on the Stratford case.”

           Carmen nodded as she wrote out her new to-do list. “Don’t forget you have a meeting with Judge Barth at the courthouse.”

           “Right I… thank you. I’m a little tired this morning.”

           “You need your coffee,” Carmen said.

           “Quite right. You already earned your pay for the week.”

           She smiled shyly, leaving for a second and back in flash, slowly stirring the dark liquid before handing him the mug. “Here you go.”

           “This’ll do the trick,” he said, gratefully taking the cup and a healthy shot of caffeine.

           As he rounded the corner, Rafael noticed he was starting to feel weak again. Maybe it was the hot morning sun already beating down or the fact that the pain in in his head rivaled the jackhammer picking away at the sidewalk across the block.

           “I’m fine,” he murmured to himself. “Just need to get off my feet.”

           Swiftly, he flagged down a taxi to take him to the courthouse. Maybe he should have taken Natalia up on her offer. Right now, he wished for nothing but to be in her arms. He’d make the meeting quick. Once he had some lunch in him and returned to the air conditioning of his office, the pain would fade.

           Sitting in the cab helped. But not entirely. Feeling a sudden buzz against his chest, Rafael pulled out his phone to find a message from Natalia waiting for him, a small smile forming at the corners of his lips.

           Sorry if I was a little bit of a mess this morning. Just stay well and come home to me soon. I’ll be waiting to make you feel even better.

           She deserved an even bigger bouquet, maybe some chocolates… suddenly he couldn’t stomach the idea of food.

           Rafael began to type back a response, but he found that the letters on the screen were fuzzy, indecipherable.

           “Hey, mister. Are you…?”

            The cabbie’s voice seemed miles and miles away. Was he trying to ask him if he was alright? Wiping his brow, Rafael pressed the button to open a window and tried to breath some fresher air. His hands shuddering, he pulled at the knot on his tie, threatening to choke him if he didn’t...

           “Think you need to get to a hospital, man,” the cabbie said, as he took a sudden left turn when Rafael wanted to go right. In a feeble attempt to protest, Rafael planted his palm against the plastic partition.

           “Wait, I… my wife… I need to call my wife…”

           His efforts were in vain, his world turning black before he could finish the sentence.

[joiedecombat]

100 Days of Writing: the List

Since it seems there is some interest, why not? List of works (nominally) in progress, old unfinished fics, and Stuff I Want To Write below the cut. Feel free to ask about any of these.

Works (nominally) In Progress

Fanfic

"Reason or Rhyme" (Time Princess - Gotham Memoirs). The Vittorio expansion/fix-fic, because I will be forever disgruntled at how little romance content was actually included in the Mafia romance route.

Galactic Date Night Shenanigans aka "The one where everything is Balkar's fault." (SWTOR - Theron Shan/Jedi Knight). Theron "disaster spy" Shan is goaded into trying to take his wife out for a nice date for once, and it goes like every other plan these two have ever had anything to do with.

#3: [I] trusted [you] (SWTOR - Theron Shan / Jedi Knight). A post-Nathema prompt fic I swear I will finish one of these days.

Original

super secret short story/novella project - Okay it's not that super secret, but it is something I'm mostly keeping under my hat for now as I work on it because of reasons, and is actually (inconveniently, for 100 Days of Writing purposes) the main thing I've been working on lately. I expect to be able to say more about it later. Maybe even within the 100 days! We'll see.

southern gothic urban fantasy procedural romance - Faerie Animal Control Warden meets FBI Elf during investigation of a suspicious death out in the kudzu. A little bit of Bright, a bit Mushi-Shi, a drop of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.

Stuff I Want to Write

Distinct from works in progress in that I have not actually gotten past the planning stage on any of these - if that. A few of these have been rattling around in concept for long enough to have gone through several distinct evolutions without ever getting any writing done on them. Still, hope springs eternal and ideas are never wasted.

Fanfic

the rival bands AU / the rock opera playlist fic (Sailor Moon - Makoto Kino/Nephrite). Currently exists entirely as an incomplete playlist.

space opera Pride and Prejudice retelling - exactly what it sounds like on the tin. Do y'all know I have yet to encounter a futuristic/space AU? Surely there's one out there somewhere, but I have yet to see it. If you know of one, for the love of God don't tell me.

"Ten of Swords" - (Archer EMIYA/Minako Arisato). fate/stay night + Persona 3 Portable crossover what's even wrong with my brain.

Original

the Regency fae story - a Regency-era fantasy in which a lot of the needlessly complicated and restrictive social rules followed by the upper classes are actually an attempt at defending against the Fair Folk. Sort of Pride and Prejudice vs Changeling: the Lost vs Labyrinth. Could turn into a whole Pride and Prejudice retelling, I guess?

drinking games - fantasy imperial court intrigues involving a romance between a court poison taster and a master spy/assassin.

untitled - East/southeast Asian-inspired Beauty and the Beast retelling in which the Beast is a mountain god whose appearance is based on a tiger. I'm probably too white to write this.

untitled - Private investigator hired to investigate local bad-boy-made-good for insurance fraud, turns out it was actually an ill-advised teenage deal with the devil coming due. Might fit in with that other southern gothic urban fantasy idea, I am not sure.

the ciphered letter - This one started off as a combination of a Mage: the Awakening campaign and a really, really weird spam email I got one time. Orphan gets mysterious ciphered letter, meets snarky Welsh mage, awakens to magic and maybe almost gets made a human sacrifice to an eldritch abomination.

Forfeit - Regency/Victorian-esque fantasy involving reincarnation, a race of immortals, and a half-immortal teaming up with a mortal who sacrificed his future reincarnations for pseudo-immortality to uncover and stop the sinister secrets that power a colonizing empire. It makes more sense in my head... probably?

untitled - Slow burn enemies to lovers between the world-conquering emperor and the rebel leader who's opposing him, over the course of a time loop. AKA Lord of Heroes Kartis/Monarch with the serials filed off. Or I guess I could just write Lord of Heroes fanfic?

low fantasy Magnificent Seven Samurai - Farming village scrapes together a group of starving mercs to protect them from marauders, drama ensues. That's it, that's the whole idea.

Unfinished Fics

Distinct from works in progress in that these are all old enough I can no longer claim I intend to finish them. Some of them I may come back to, especially the few that had substantial progress made before they fell by the wayside. Most will probably be left abandoned, either because I have lost interest in continuing to work on them or I have just plain forgotten what I was planning to do with them.

dreameater - A very old, loosely Forgotten Realms-inspired concept involving an aging half-elf, his fully elven partner, and a mysterious magical threat that's devouring people's dreams.

"Fortune Favors the Brave" (Baccano! - Luck Gandor/Eve Genoard). The Luck/Eve shipping fic.

"Intermezzo" (Blood+ City of Nightwalkers). Follow-up fic to an obscure manga prequel/side story for the vampire anime Blood+, involving Hagi and the Hong Kong cop who semi-adopted him that one time.

"The Art of Losing Everything" (Dragon Age: Origins - Alistair Theirin/f!Cousland). An Alistair/f!Warden fic with themes of loss, duty, and sacrifice.

"In Pieces" (Dragon Age II - Fenris/f!Hawke). A terrible horrible no good very bad AU where Hawke actually turned Fenris over to Danarius and then came back to try to fix her mistake, which I can never finish because I can't make that initial decision make internal sense no matter how hard I try.

"Pas de Deux" (Final Fantasy VIII - Squall Leonhart/Rinoa Heartilly). Exploration of how Squall and Rinoa's relationship could develop after the events of the game.

"With Good Intentions" (Final Fantasy VIII - Squall Leonhart/Rinoa Heartilly). An AU in which Rinoa discovers that technically you can change the past, it's just that if Squall has an actual decent childhood the world ends. Way too ambitious for me to ever actually finish, probably, but I can't quite give up on the idea.

"I've Loved These Days" (Gundam SEED - Mu la Flaga/Murrue Ramius). One of several partly-written Gundam SEED fics kicking around in my files.

"The Last Night of the World" (Gundam SEED - Mu la Flaga/Murrue Ramius). Another Gundam SEED fic, one that began as a prompt in ye olde LiveJournal days. "I've Loved These Days" might have been a prototype, though they don't appear to have any text in common. Could in theory still get finished, maybe.

Valentine's ghosts (Gundam SEED Destiny - Andrew Waltfeld/Murrue Ramius). I'm just saying, Andy/Murrue would have been so much more interesting than the whole Neo thing in Destiny.

"Lion Passant" (Kingdom Hearts). Something something Leon as a failed Keyblade Bearer. The Kingdom Hearts franchise has rewritten its own lore at least three times since I originally had the idea, I can't imagine I'll ever continue it now.

"Vigil" (KotOR - Carth Onasi/f!Revan). Carth/Revan retrospective somewhere around the tomb of Naga Sadow on Korriban.

"Semper Fidelis" (KotOR/KotOR II - Carth Onasi/f!Revan). Post-Sith Lords Carth/Revan resolution fic.

"Clarity" (KotOR II). Atton Rand backstory study from the POV of that one nameless Jedi.

"A Simple Game of Cards" (KotOR II - Atton Rand/Jedi Exile). Spoilers: it is never a simple game of cards. Turns out someone already did it with more or less the same twist I had in mind.

the besieged base fic (Mass Effect - f!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko). A fic rendition of the "Besieged Base" mission from the first Mass Effect.

"Get Up, Jonah" (Mass Effect). I woke up thinking about Turkish drummers. Didn't take long; I don't know much about Turkish drummers. Virmire, before the other shoe drops.

"Long Night" (Mass Effect). Ashley on Virmire.

"My Heart Dances" (Mass Effect - f!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko). Liara POV of Shepard/Kaidan.

"No Way Out" (Mass Effect - f!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko). Heading up the Citadel during the ME1 endgame.

"Right Here, Right Now" (Mass Effect - f!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko). An ME1 epilogue / pre-ME2 sort of fic.

"While the Night is Still Young" (Mass Effect - f!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko). Shepard/Kaidan en route to Ilos.

Apparently I had approximately a million little Mass Effect shortfic ideas I never finished and in some cases never started. Apparently they're all for the first game. (I think there was a Thane idea or two for ME2 that I just never started on at all. RIP.)

"To Absent Friends" (Tiger and Bunny). Sad, sad futurefic of an elderly Pao-Lin reflecting on the deaths of all the other heroes over the years.

[ultrasfcb-blog]

Belgian GP: Why Spa 1998 stays probably the most exceptional F1 races ever

Belgian GP: Why Spa 1998 stays probably the most exceptional F1 races ever

Belgian GP: Why Spa 1998 stays probably the most exceptional F1 races ever

Former world champion Damon Hill received a Components 1 race for the 22nd and last time at Spa on 30 August 1998

“Oh, that is horrible, that is fairly appalling, that is the worst begin to a grand prix I’ve ever seen in the entire of my life.”

Legendary commentator Murray Walker was seldom misplaced for phrases and true to kind they didn’t fail him when it got here to calling the unbelievable 1998 Belgian Grand Prix.

With the 20-year anniversary of the race approaching, now appears time to look again on an enthralling occasion that featured a 13-car pile-up, spectacular crashes, a livid pit-lane bust-up, horrendous climate from begin to end and a maiden win for one of many sport’s underdogs.

BBC Sport remembers probably the most incident-filled races within the 68-year historical past of the game, with evaluation all through from the BBC’s chief Components 1 author Andrew Benson, who was there that day.

“Reminiscences are slightly hazy – it was 20 years in the past, in any case,” says Benson.

“However they quantity to a mixture of shock, shock, pleasure and most of all, a way of a form of pervading insanity throughout.”

Unfortunate 13 – first-lap chaos units the tone

The race was the 13th of 16 that season, with McLaren’s Mika Hakkinen main the drivers’ championship and chasing his first world title, seven factors away from two-time champion Michael Schumacher of Ferrari.

The weekend was vigorous from the outset with Hakkinen, Jacques Villeneuve and Mika Salo crashing in follow, earlier than Hakkinen took pole with Schumacher fourth.

Come Sunday, the heavens opened in an enormous approach, however the determination was taken to begin the race on the scheduled time with out a security automotive.

And it appeared to be a smart transfer because the vehicles bought beneath approach… for all of 15 seconds.

Hakkinen led the pack down the hill in direction of Eau Rouge after which the drama began.

David Coulthard will get it improper on the exit of the primary nook and is spat throughout the observe

Eventual race winner Damon Hill avoids being collected however others behind are much less lucky

As Coulthard’s battered McLaren slithers down the limitations, the accident collects Eddie Irvine (Ferrari), Rubens Barrichello (Stewart), Olivier Panis, Jarno Trulli (each Prost), Johnny Herbert (Sauber) and Mika Salo (Arrows)

Alexander Wurz (Benetton) and Jos Verstappen (Stewart) are additionally caught within the chaos, whereas the Tyrrell of Ricardo Rosset is a latecomer to the difficulty, slamming into the vehicles forward

13 vehicles are in the end broken within the accident. 4 are unable to take the restart

So what was it like being in the course of all this?

In 2015, Ferrari’s Eddie Irvine told the official Formula 1 website that it had been “a bit scary”.

“I had no brakes, no steering, nothing was working,” he stated.

“I used to be simply sitting there hurtling down the observe with wheels hitting me on the pinnacle and vehicles going all over. There was nothing I may do besides sit there and assume ‘the place is that this taking me?’ It was not nice…”

Jordan’s Ralf Schumacher was proper in the course of all of it – however he was extraordinarily fortunate.

“It was fairly humorous, as a result of I simply noticed a McLaren sideways in entrance of me and I noticed the mess happening throughout me,” Ralf Schumacher later recalled.

“I moved my automotive left, parked it in impartial and waited, simply in time to see an Arrows abruptly miss me by about 10 centimetres.

“Then when all the pieces had settled, I simply engaged a gear and went by means of.”

However the begin of the race just isn’t what sticks in Benson’s thoughts.

“Oddly, the huge pile-up initially, involving a complete of 13 vehicles or greater than half the sector, just isn’t essentially the most highly effective recollection. Most of it entails Michael Schumacher in a method or one other,” stated the BBC’s chief F1 author.

So what did Michael Schumacher rise up to?

Michael Schumacher (proper) ploughs into Coulthard, who had slowed however was nonetheless on the racing line

The rain was nonetheless heavy and the restart was additionally dramatic.

Hakkinen made a gradual begin and spun earlier than the Sauber of Johnny Herbert went into him, ending each their races. Benetton’s Alexander Wurz was one other casualty after a collision with David Coulthard, which left the Scot on the again.

Quickly, the wounded McLaren was being hunted down by chief Schumacher.

On the downhill straight to the 150mph Pouhon nook, Coulthard, on the racing line, backed off to let Schumacher by. However caught unawares, the German’s automotive smashed into the again of the McLaren, ripping off the Ferrari’s proper entrance wheel.

“Oh God!” sputtered Murray Walker, who was incredulous.

Again within the pits, Schumacher assumed Coulthard acted intentionally to hinder the German’s world title hopes to assist Hakkinen – and the German set off right down to the McLaren storage.

‘It was apparent it was simply a type of issues’

Benson’s view of the incident

“Schumacher gave the impression to be on the best way to a routine, dominant wet-weather win, till he shockingly rammed into the again of Coulthard’s McLaren.

“It was apparent – to everybody bar Schumacher – that it was simply a type of issues that may occur on a stinking moist Ardennes day, when visibility on the race observe was nearly non-existent.

“Schumacher, although, didn’t see it that approach. He assumed Coulthard had slowed intentionally, in an try and make the Ferrari ram into him, to assist team-mate Hakkinen within the title battle.

“Everybody who is aware of Coulthard is aware of that is a nonsense, however Schumacher three-wheeled his automotive again to the pits, stormed out of it, and raced off right down to confront his rival within the McLaren pit.

“‘You tried to kill me!’ he screamed as he tried to seize Coulthard’s throat, whereas being held again by Ferrari’s then-sporting director – and future crew boss – Stefano Domenicali.

“There was a rapprochement of types later, however then Schumacher took exception to one thing else…”

‘I will put one thing to you, I feel you’d higher hear’

With solely eight vehicles nonetheless working, the Jordan crew, nonetheless winless after 125 grands prix, discovered themselves vaulted into first and second place, with 1996 world champion Damon Hill out in entrance from team-mate Ralf Schumacher.

The circumstances have been nonetheless horrendous, however the German was the sooner man and difficult Hill’s lead.

Involved they might find yourself dropping Jordan’s first ever F1 win – by no means thoughts a one-two – Hill radioed the crew to say they might proceed to race in the event that they preferred however that it could make extra sense to again off.

Hill’s message over the crew radio. Shortly afterwards, Schumacher was advised ‘Ralf, you can’t overtake Damon, OK? That may be a crew order’

Crew boss Eddie Jordan agreed and insisted that Ralf Schumacher, who was leaving the crew on the finish of the season, couldn’t overtake Hill. The German, reluctantly and after a brief interval of radio silence, lastly acknowledged the order.

Hill took the win, his 22nd and last victory of his profession, whereas Jordan skipped down the pits in celebration of not only a maiden win but in addition a surprising one-two.

“I appeared like a whole fool,” Jordan stated years later. “The euphoria, the thrill it simply took over. It was a day I shall by no means, ever overlook. There have been so many issues wrapped into these couple of hours – intrigue, rigidity, not believing it may occur”

Michael Schumacher, in the meantime, was nonetheless simmering after his earlier crash and sought out the Jordan crew boss – who gave the German his F1 debut seven years beforehand – to complain in regards to the therapy of his youthful brother.

Rain, champagne and Hill’s smile

Benson’s view from the media centre

“Jordan’s imposition of crew orders made Eddie Jordan the contemporary goal of the older Schumacher’s ire, which was a little bit of a jolt for the Irishman, who till then had been jigging round deliriously, swearing joyously at one and all, as he celebrated his crew’s coming of age.

“He was not the one disbelieving one. Again within the media centre, Hill was surrounded by a posse of British journalists – this author amongst them – after the official information convention ended [things were a bit more informal in those days].

“Hill talked as he tried to take it in, because the odor of rain, sweat and champagne wafted up from his yellow overalls.

“20 years later it could be, however Hill’s uncomprehending smile, the huddle, and its accompanying aroma are maybe the clearest reminiscence of all.”

Twists, turns and crashes – pictures from an unbelievable race

Irvine’s Ferrari and Coulthard’s McLaren look distinctly second-hand after the first-lap crash

On the restart, championship chief Hakkinen involves grief – once more exiting the primary nook – and is out

Hill and Schumacher rumble previous as Hakkinen’s McLaren is faraway from the observe

Giancarlo Fisichella’s race ended on lap 26 after this spectacular crash with Shinji Nakano, who – remarkably given the course of journey of his rear wing – was in a position to proceed after prolonged repairs

Fisichella surveys what stays of his smoking Benetton

Coulthard endured a troubled afternoon on the wheel of the McLaren

This race was the primary of 4 victories for the Jordan crew

Quiz – title the Spa 1998 beginning grid

Twenty-two drivers have been on the grid for the 1998 Belgian Grand Prix. Unavoidably, a good few have been talked about within the previous evaluation, however how most of the different drivers are you able to title?

You will have six minutes to search out out.

1998 Belgium GP beginning grid

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Belgian GP: Why Spa 1998 stays probably the most exceptional F1 races ever

Belgian GP: Why Spa 1998 stays probably the most exceptional F1 races ever

Belgian GP: Why Spa 1998 stays probably the most exceptional F1 races ever

Former world champion Damon Hill received a Components 1 race for the 22nd and last time at Spa on 30 August 1998

“Oh, that is horrible, that is fairly appalling, that is the worst begin to a grand prix I’ve ever seen in the entire of my life.”

Legendary commentator Murray Walker was seldom misplaced for phrases and true to kind they didn’t fail him when it got here to calling the unbelievable 1998 Belgian Grand Prix.

With the 20-year anniversary of the race approaching, now appears time to look again on an enthralling occasion that featured a 13-car pile-up, spectacular crashes, a livid pit-lane bust-up, horrendous climate from begin to end and a maiden win for one of many sport’s underdogs.

BBC Sport remembers probably the most incident-filled races within the 68-year historical past of the game, with evaluation all through from the BBC’s chief Components 1 author Andrew Benson, who was there that day.

“Reminiscences are slightly hazy – it was 20 years in the past, in any case,” says Benson.

“However they quantity to a mixture of shock, shock, pleasure and most of all, a way of a form of pervading insanity throughout.”

Unfortunate 13 – first-lap chaos units the tone

The race was the 13th of 16 that season, with McLaren’s Mika Hakkinen main the drivers’ championship and chasing his first world title, seven factors away from two-time champion Michael Schumacher of Ferrari.

The weekend was vigorous from the outset with Hakkinen, Jacques Villeneuve and Mika Salo crashing in follow, earlier than Hakkinen took pole with Schumacher fourth.

Come Sunday, the heavens opened in an enormous approach, however the determination was taken to begin the race on the scheduled time with out a security automotive.

And it appeared to be a smart transfer because the vehicles bought beneath approach… for all of 15 seconds.

Hakkinen led the pack down the hill in direction of Eau Rouge after which the drama began.

David Coulthard will get it improper on the exit of the primary nook and is spat throughout the observe

Eventual race winner Damon Hill avoids being collected however others behind are much less lucky

As Coulthard’s battered McLaren slithers down the limitations, the accident collects Eddie Irvine (Ferrari), Rubens Barrichello (Stewart), Olivier Panis, Jarno Trulli (each Prost), Johnny Herbert (Sauber) and Mika Salo (Arrows)

Alexander Wurz (Benetton) and Jos Verstappen (Stewart) are additionally caught within the chaos, whereas the Tyrrell of Ricardo Rosset is a latecomer to the difficulty, slamming into the vehicles forward

13 vehicles are in the end broken within the accident. 4 are unable to take the restart

So what was it like being in the course of all this?

In 2015, Ferrari’s Eddie Irvine told the official Formula 1 website that it had been “a bit scary”.

“I had no brakes, no steering, nothing was working,” he stated.

“I used to be simply sitting there hurtling down the observe with wheels hitting me on the pinnacle and vehicles going all over. There was nothing I may do besides sit there and assume ‘the place is that this taking me?’ It was not nice…”

Jordan’s Ralf Schumacher was proper in the course of all of it – however he was extraordinarily fortunate.

“It was fairly humorous, as a result of I simply noticed a McLaren sideways in entrance of me and I noticed the mess happening throughout me,” Ralf Schumacher later recalled.

“I moved my automotive left, parked it in impartial and waited, simply in time to see an Arrows abruptly miss me by about 10 centimetres.

“Then when all the pieces had settled, I simply engaged a gear and went by means of.”

However the begin of the race just isn’t what sticks in Benson’s thoughts.

“Oddly, the huge pile-up initially, involving a complete of 13 vehicles or greater than half the sector, just isn’t essentially the most highly effective recollection. Most of it entails Michael Schumacher in a method or one other,” stated the BBC’s chief F1 author.

So what did Michael Schumacher rise up to?

Michael Schumacher (proper) ploughs into Coulthard, who had slowed however was nonetheless on the racing line

The rain was nonetheless heavy and the restart was additionally dramatic.

Hakkinen made a gradual begin and spun earlier than the Sauber of Johnny Herbert went into him, ending each their races. Benetton’s Alexander Wurz was one other casualty after a collision with David Coulthard, which left the Scot on the again.

Quickly, the wounded McLaren was being hunted down by chief Schumacher.

On the downhill straight to the 150mph Pouhon nook, Coulthard, on the racing line, backed off to let Schumacher by. However caught unawares, the German’s automotive smashed into the again of the McLaren, ripping off the Ferrari’s proper entrance wheel.

“Oh God!” sputtered Murray Walker, who was incredulous.

Again within the pits, Schumacher assumed Coulthard acted intentionally to hinder the German’s world title hopes to assist Hakkinen – and the German set off right down to the McLaren storage.

‘It was apparent it was simply a type of issues’

Benson’s view of the incident

“Schumacher gave the impression to be on the best way to a routine, dominant wet-weather win, till he shockingly rammed into the again of Coulthard’s McLaren.

“It was apparent – to everybody bar Schumacher – that it was simply a type of issues that may occur on a stinking moist Ardennes day, when visibility on the race observe was nearly non-existent.

“Schumacher, although, didn’t see it that approach. He assumed Coulthard had slowed intentionally, in an try and make the Ferrari ram into him, to assist team-mate Hakkinen within the title battle.

“Everybody who is aware of Coulthard is aware of that is a nonsense, however Schumacher three-wheeled his automotive again to the pits, stormed out of it, and raced off right down to confront his rival within the McLaren pit.

“‘You tried to kill me!’ he screamed as he tried to seize Coulthard’s throat, whereas being held again by Ferrari’s then-sporting director – and future crew boss – Stefano Domenicali.

“There was a rapprochement of types later, however then Schumacher took exception to one thing else…”

‘I will put one thing to you, I feel you’d higher hear’

With solely eight vehicles nonetheless working, the Jordan crew, nonetheless winless after 125 grands prix, discovered themselves vaulted into first and second place, with 1996 world champion Damon Hill out in entrance from team-mate Ralf Schumacher.

The circumstances have been nonetheless horrendous, however the German was the sooner man and difficult Hill’s lead.

Involved they might find yourself dropping Jordan’s first ever F1 win – by no means thoughts a one-two – Hill radioed the crew to say they might proceed to race in the event that they preferred however that it could make extra sense to again off.

Hill’s message over the crew radio. Shortly afterwards, Schumacher was advised ‘Ralf, you can’t overtake Damon, OK? That may be a crew order’

Crew boss Eddie Jordan agreed and insisted that Ralf Schumacher, who was leaving the crew on the finish of the season, couldn’t overtake Hill. The German, reluctantly and after a brief interval of radio silence, lastly acknowledged the order.

Hill took the win, his 22nd and last victory of his profession, whereas Jordan skipped down the pits in celebration of not only a maiden win but in addition a surprising one-two.

“I appeared like a whole fool,” Jordan stated years later. “The euphoria, the thrill it simply took over. It was a day I shall by no means, ever overlook. There have been so many issues wrapped into these couple of hours – intrigue, rigidity, not believing it may occur”

Michael Schumacher, in the meantime, was nonetheless simmering after his earlier crash and sought out the Jordan crew boss – who gave the German his F1 debut seven years beforehand – to complain in regards to the therapy of his youthful brother.

Rain, champagne and Hill’s smile

Benson’s view from the media centre

“Jordan’s imposition of crew orders made Eddie Jordan the contemporary goal of the older Schumacher’s ire, which was a little bit of a jolt for the Irishman, who till then had been jigging round deliriously, swearing joyously at one and all, as he celebrated his crew’s coming of age.

“He was not the one disbelieving one. Again within the media centre, Hill was surrounded by a posse of British journalists – this author amongst them – after the official information convention ended [things were a bit more informal in those days].

“Hill talked as he tried to take it in, because the odor of rain, sweat and champagne wafted up from his yellow overalls.

“20 years later it could be, however Hill’s uncomprehending smile, the huddle, and its accompanying aroma are maybe the clearest reminiscence of all.”

Twists, turns and crashes – pictures from an unbelievable race

Irvine’s Ferrari and Coulthard’s McLaren look distinctly second-hand after the first-lap crash

On the restart, championship chief Hakkinen involves grief – once more exiting the primary nook – and is out

Hill and Schumacher rumble previous as Hakkinen’s McLaren is faraway from the observe

Giancarlo Fisichella’s race ended on lap 26 after this spectacular crash with Shinji Nakano, who – remarkably given the course of journey of his rear wing – was in a position to proceed after prolonged repairs

Fisichella surveys what stays of his smoking Benetton

Coulthard endured a troubled afternoon on the wheel of the McLaren

This race was the primary of 4 victories for the Jordan crew

Quiz – title the Spa 1998 beginning grid

Twenty-two drivers have been on the grid for the 1998 Belgian Grand Prix. Unavoidably, a good few have been talked about within the previous evaluation, however how most of the different drivers are you able to title?

You will have six minutes to search out out.

1998 Belgium GP beginning grid

Rating: 0 / 22

Begin quiz

You scored 0/22

Share your rating with your pals!

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Rank Drivers 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

Hand over!

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#Barcelona

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Belgian GP: Why Spa 1998 stays probably the most exceptional F1 races ever

Belgian GP: Why Spa 1998 stays probably the most exceptional F1 races ever

Belgian GP: Why Spa 1998 stays probably the most exceptional F1 races ever

Former world champion Damon Hill received a Components 1 race for the 22nd and last time at Spa on 30 August 1998

“Oh, that is horrible, that is fairly appalling, that is the worst begin to a grand prix I’ve ever seen in the entire of my life.”

Legendary commentator Murray Walker was seldom misplaced for phrases and true to kind they didn’t fail him when it got here to calling the unbelievable 1998 Belgian Grand Prix.

With the 20-year anniversary of the race approaching, now appears time to look again on an enthralling occasion that featured a 13-car pile-up, spectacular crashes, a livid pit-lane bust-up, horrendous climate from begin to end and a maiden win for one of many sport’s underdogs.

BBC Sport remembers probably the most incident-filled races within the 68-year historical past of the game, with evaluation all through from the BBC’s chief Components 1 author Andrew Benson, who was there that day.

“Reminiscences are slightly hazy – it was 20 years in the past, in any case,” says Benson.

“However they quantity to a mixture of shock, shock, pleasure and most of all, a way of a form of pervading insanity throughout.”

Unfortunate 13 – first-lap chaos units the tone

The race was the 13th of 16 that season, with McLaren’s Mika Hakkinen main the drivers’ championship and chasing his first world title, seven factors away from two-time champion Michael Schumacher of Ferrari.

The weekend was vigorous from the outset with Hakkinen, Jacques Villeneuve and Mika Salo crashing in follow, earlier than Hakkinen took pole with Schumacher fourth.

Come Sunday, the heavens opened in an enormous approach, however the determination was taken to begin the race on the scheduled time with out a security automotive.

And it appeared to be a smart transfer because the vehicles bought beneath approach… for all of 15 seconds.

Hakkinen led the pack down the hill in direction of Eau Rouge after which the drama began.

David Coulthard will get it improper on the exit of the primary nook and is spat throughout the observe

Eventual race winner Damon Hill avoids being collected however others behind are much less lucky

As Coulthard’s battered McLaren slithers down the limitations, the accident collects Eddie Irvine (Ferrari), Rubens Barrichello (Stewart), Olivier Panis, Jarno Trulli (each Prost), Johnny Herbert (Sauber) and Mika Salo (Arrows)

Alexander Wurz (Benetton) and Jos Verstappen (Stewart) are additionally caught within the chaos, whereas the Tyrrell of Ricardo Rosset is a latecomer to the difficulty, slamming into the vehicles forward

13 vehicles are in the end broken within the accident. 4 are unable to take the restart

So what was it like being in the course of all this?

In 2015, Ferrari’s Eddie Irvine told the official Formula 1 website that it had been “a bit scary”.

“I had no brakes, no steering, nothing was working,” he stated.

“I used to be simply sitting there hurtling down the observe with wheels hitting me on the pinnacle and vehicles going all over. There was nothing I may do besides sit there and assume ‘the place is that this taking me?’ It was not nice…”

Jordan’s Ralf Schumacher was proper in the course of all of it – however he was extraordinarily fortunate.

“It was fairly humorous, as a result of I simply noticed a McLaren sideways in entrance of me and I noticed the mess happening throughout me,” Ralf Schumacher later recalled.

“I moved my automotive left, parked it in impartial and waited, simply in time to see an Arrows abruptly miss me by about 10 centimetres.

“Then when all the pieces had settled, I simply engaged a gear and went by means of.”

However the begin of the race just isn’t what sticks in Benson’s thoughts.

“Oddly, the huge pile-up initially, involving a complete of 13 vehicles or greater than half the sector, just isn’t essentially the most highly effective recollection. Most of it entails Michael Schumacher in a method or one other,” stated the BBC’s chief F1 author.

So what did Michael Schumacher rise up to?

Michael Schumacher (proper) ploughs into Coulthard, who had slowed however was nonetheless on the racing line

The rain was nonetheless heavy and the restart was additionally dramatic.

Hakkinen made a gradual begin and spun earlier than the Sauber of Johnny Herbert went into him, ending each their races. Benetton’s Alexander Wurz was one other casualty after a collision with David Coulthard, which left the Scot on the again.

Quickly, the wounded McLaren was being hunted down by chief Schumacher.

On the downhill straight to the 150mph Pouhon nook, Coulthard, on the racing line, backed off to let Schumacher by. However caught unawares, the German’s automotive smashed into the again of the McLaren, ripping off the Ferrari’s proper entrance wheel.

“Oh God!” sputtered Murray Walker, who was incredulous.

Again within the pits, Schumacher assumed Coulthard acted intentionally to hinder the German’s world title hopes to assist Hakkinen – and the German set off right down to the McLaren storage.

‘It was apparent it was simply a type of issues’

Benson’s view of the incident

“Schumacher gave the impression to be on the best way to a routine, dominant wet-weather win, till he shockingly rammed into the again of Coulthard’s McLaren.

“It was apparent – to everybody bar Schumacher – that it was simply a type of issues that may occur on a stinking moist Ardennes day, when visibility on the race observe was nearly non-existent.

“Schumacher, although, didn’t see it that approach. He assumed Coulthard had slowed intentionally, in an try and make the Ferrari ram into him, to assist team-mate Hakkinen within the title battle.

“Everybody who is aware of Coulthard is aware of that is a nonsense, however Schumacher three-wheeled his automotive again to the pits, stormed out of it, and raced off right down to confront his rival within the McLaren pit.

“‘You tried to kill me!’ he screamed as he tried to seize Coulthard’s throat, whereas being held again by Ferrari’s then-sporting director – and future crew boss – Stefano Domenicali.

“There was a rapprochement of types later, however then Schumacher took exception to one thing else…”

‘I will put one thing to you, I feel you’d higher hear’

With solely eight vehicles nonetheless working, the Jordan crew, nonetheless winless after 125 grands prix, discovered themselves vaulted into first and second place, with 1996 world champion Damon Hill out in entrance from team-mate Ralf Schumacher.

The circumstances have been nonetheless horrendous, however the German was the sooner man and difficult Hill’s lead.

Involved they might find yourself dropping Jordan’s first ever F1 win – by no means thoughts a one-two – Hill radioed the crew to say they might proceed to race in the event that they preferred however that it could make extra sense to again off.

Hill’s message over the crew radio. Shortly afterwards, Schumacher was advised ‘Ralf, you can’t overtake Damon, OK? That may be a crew order’

Crew boss Eddie Jordan agreed and insisted that Ralf Schumacher, who was leaving the crew on the finish of the season, couldn’t overtake Hill. The German, reluctantly and after a brief interval of radio silence, lastly acknowledged the order.

Hill took the win, his 22nd and last victory of his profession, whereas Jordan skipped down the pits in celebration of not only a maiden win but in addition a surprising one-two.

“I appeared like a whole fool,” Jordan stated years later. “The euphoria, the thrill it simply took over. It was a day I shall by no means, ever overlook. There have been so many issues wrapped into these couple of hours – intrigue, rigidity, not believing it may occur”

Michael Schumacher, in the meantime, was nonetheless simmering after his earlier crash and sought out the Jordan crew boss – who gave the German his F1 debut seven years beforehand – to complain in regards to the therapy of his youthful brother.

Rain, champagne and Hill’s smile

Benson’s view from the media centre

“Jordan’s imposition of crew orders made Eddie Jordan the contemporary goal of the older Schumacher’s ire, which was a little bit of a jolt for the Irishman, who till then had been jigging round deliriously, swearing joyously at one and all, as he celebrated his crew’s coming of age.

“He was not the one disbelieving one. Again within the media centre, Hill was surrounded by a posse of British journalists – this author amongst them – after the official information convention ended [things were a bit more informal in those days].

“Hill talked as he tried to take it in, because the odor of rain, sweat and champagne wafted up from his yellow overalls.

“20 years later it could be, however Hill’s uncomprehending smile, the huddle, and its accompanying aroma are maybe the clearest reminiscence of all.”

Twists, turns and crashes – pictures from an unbelievable race

Irvine’s Ferrari and Coulthard’s McLaren look distinctly second-hand after the first-lap crash

On the restart, championship chief Hakkinen involves grief – once more exiting the primary nook – and is out

Hill and Schumacher rumble previous as Hakkinen’s McLaren is faraway from the observe

Giancarlo Fisichella’s race ended on lap 26 after this spectacular crash with Shinji Nakano, who – remarkably given the course of journey of his rear wing – was in a position to proceed after prolonged repairs

Fisichella surveys what stays of his smoking Benetton

Coulthard endured a troubled afternoon on the wheel of the McLaren

This race was the primary of 4 victories for the Jordan crew

Quiz – title the Spa 1998 beginning grid

Twenty-two drivers have been on the grid for the 1998 Belgian Grand Prix. Unavoidably, a good few have been talked about within the previous evaluation, however how most of the different drivers are you able to title?

You will have six minutes to search out out.

1998 Belgium GP beginning grid

Rating: 0 / 22

Begin quiz

You scored 0/22

Share your rating with your pals!

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Rank Drivers 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

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