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#and i always reply that we need to back whoever takes in Trump
dxnisheatingdetective · 9 months
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Five times protected for Harvey and Lily (let someone stand up for the man!)
five times protected:     ( five times the receiver was protected by the sender)
Harvey opened an eye from the sofa where he lay peering at hushed but intense voices by the door. He focused to try and hear what was being said but all he caught was snippets. It was Lily and she was in no uncertain terms telling someone to get lost. He hadn't expected to see her or her to come round but at some point she must have been worried about him. He'd taken a beating, not the most unusual thing in Gotham but he was getting too old for this shit and his ribs were bruised to shit. Harvey never liked to bother anyone so he'd headed home and buried himself in whiskey and painkillers for a bit. Lily had turned up all annoyed when she saw his black eye and then insisted she stay. Now she was telling whoever was at the door to get lost and he had to admit he was grateful.
(( Four more below the cut =) ))
"Hey, BACK OFF!" Harvey just stared at Lily for a moment. It surprised him when she stepped in, it always surprised him when someone else had his back. He wasn't used to it, he'd gotten so used to only ever having his own or having to look out for everyone else. It had been a reporter getting in his face about failings at the GCPD, Harvey had already been beating himself up for days because of a case involving some kids. Then all this other stuff had come out and one of the cops had been on the take from the ringleader and others had known about it. It was really good investigative journalism but all it did was make Harvey torture himself with the fact he should have known. He'd prided himself on toeing the line between dark and light for a while now. It was a saving grace, not being as bullish as Gordon meant he still got a heads up on the more nefarious activity within the GCPD. Offered stolen goods, told about the best whore houses, drug dens, illegal gambling. Bullock drew the line at kids though and he'd stand up to any of that crap. It tortured him that he either hadn't been paying enough attention or just hadn't found out what was happening earlier.
"You son of a bitch!" Harvey yelled throwing a punch before the guy grabbed hold of his throat. Harvey wasn't an athlete but he was scrappy, he could punch hard and he could swing a bat when needed. Strangled noises left Harvey as the perp forced him and his back against the bar, until, there was an ooft noise and the perp was falling to the floor. Lily was stood in her best dress, empty punch bowl that she'd just clocked the guy with in her hands. "Atta girl." Harvey joked loosening his tie and rubbing his neck. God he was going to be in pain the next day.
"Lil, please, I'm fine. Go home and get some rest." Harvey said gently. He'd been in hospital four days now after getting stabbed by a perp him and Jim were chasing. "I'm not going anywhere." Lily said, she'd been sat by his bedside almost constantly and he could see how tired she was. "Seriously, Lily it's okay, I'm fine. It's nothing that hasn't happened before. I'm gunna be just fine and the nurses and docs are all good, honestly nothing is going to happen to me." "That's what you said when you left the other night and now here we are." Lily replied. "Alright, okay, but if you start to smell y'know the nurses are gunna tell you you're a biohazard right?" Harvey chuckled whilst squeezing the hand that was still holding his gently.
"Look, I get it okay, but I gotta trust my radar and that guy is a grade A creep." Harvey said holding up his hands. "Harvey-" Lily folded her arms across her chest and watched him, narrowing her eyes. "Harvey Bullock are you jealous?" "Fine, don't be mad when I say I told you so though." Harvey wouldn't get to saying I told you so though, he was too busy punching the guys lights out and then having some unis arrest him on some trumped up charge. Lily hadn't noticed the guy waiting in his car as she started home after a long shift but Harvey had and there was no legitimate reason, save for maybe an undercover cop, for this random dude who'd just started working at the university to be hanging around and seemingly waiting for Lily. Harvey had watched as the guy watched and as soon as the lights went off in her office he'd gotten out of his car. Harvey followed suit and so Lily came out to Harvey nursing his knuckles and a flood of cops on the campus.
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guccifloralsuits · 4 years
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saipng · 3 years
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Warming up
Fandom: Resident Evil (8 in particular)
Pairing: Ethan Winters/Karl Heisenberg
Rating: E
Word Count: 13,803
hey guess what i can post the full fic from my laptop lol so this is basically a reupload!
AO3 link in replies
Ethan accepts Heisenberg's offer and learns how to negotiate.
(P.S: Technically PWP but there is a tiny bit of P in the beginning, just to set things up. Lighting some candles, putting on some music, pouring some wine. You know how it is)
(P.P.S: There aren't any actual candles, wine, or music in this fic. I'm sorry.)
“Take a seat.”
The rusted, sickly looking chair clattered against the floor helplessly, its sad little legs looking as though they would give out underneath their own weight any second now – much less Ethan’s.
He did not take a seat.
Heisenberg turned his back, walked across the room to a small table with a blistering desk lamp at the other end. You’re not a threat to me, his body language all but screamed.
You’re nothing.
“Listen, Ethan, you’re being played-“
Ethan, in turn, felt his own body seize up.
“What are you talking about!? You think this is a game!?”
There was a second - half a second - where the other man stopped fiddling with his cigar, turned his head towards him giving him a look so pointed it bore right through the tiny jet black shades. And in the very next moment Heisenberg was throwing a steel blade into the poster laden wall, metal glinting as it flew through the air. Ethan could barely follow the movement with his eyes before he was suddenly being shoved onto the flimsy chair, its legs stubbornly refusing to collapse against all odds.
Heisenberg looked down at him, sneering.
Ethan couldn’t help the shaky breath.
Most dangerous of them all, Duke’s words echoed in his head, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. His knees felt weak.
And he could swear the man in front of him looked delighted to tower over him like this.
But then he took a step backwards, then another, and then, when he was certain enough Ethan wouldn’t dare make another move, he turned back towards the board, pointing at each one of his siblings in turn.
“Lady super-sized bitch...”- A glint, and the knife was slashing through the air, pulling right out of Dimitriscu’s face, leaving an ugly mark in between her eyes with a particular sort of malice.
“Ugly ass psycho doll...”- The knife stabbed into Donna Beneviento’s torso, the crack of wall underneath the poster almost painful.
“And that moronic freak.”
The blade easily lodged itself somewhere in Moreau’s face, or maybe his neck, maybe somewhere around the eyes or the shoulder – both Heisenberg and the knife barely spared the last sibling a second’s thought and the man turned back to Ethan, his hands outstretched.
“Don’t you get it? It’s a test, to see if you’re strong enough to be a part of Miranda’s family!”
“I don’t WANT to be a part of Miranda’s family-“- Ethan was growling before he could really think, and Heisenberg kept looking at him like he was saying all the wrong things.
“Neither did I. But here we are!”- He circled back, something in his voice cracking, -“And I’m next in line, right? Kill me, move up the chain! Well, fuck that!”
And with a quick sweep of his hand, the metal wall was splitting in two.
Miranda’s portrait tore.
Ethan felt nauseous.
“I don’t give a damn about your personal issues!”- He was sputtering incredulously, not knowing why he was expecting all of this to start making sense when it wasn’t, -“I just want to fix my daughter!”
And to his great surprise, Heisenberg laughed.
“So do I!”- He grinned, ear to ear, fists shaking, -“Do you have any idea how powerful that kid is? Even Miranda’s scared of her-“
It was then that whatever horror was lurking beneath them began revving its engines up again, and images of chainsaws and lawn mowers began to flash across Ethan’s mind. He grit his teeth while Heisenberg roared at whoever it was to quiet down, daring to tear his eyes away for a glance towards the hole.
Tufts of white smoke clouded the room below. He’s been around this accursed village long enough to know that there was nothing good waiting for him down there. He’s known Heisenberg for long enough to figure that whatever it was was sharp. And painful.
His captor looked at him for a moment. Took another to inhale deeply and look away.
Ethan could empathize. He could hardly catch his own breath.
Heisenberg removed his glasses.
“You and me, Ethan,”- He pleaded, and really, there was no better word to describe his voice just then - this monster pleaded with him and Ethan felt something in his neck crack, -“Together, we go and save Rose — and then we can use her to grind Miranda into paste!”
“My daughter is not a weapon,”- Ethan growled back at him, his chest hollow, -“Fuck you!”
Heisenberg took a step back. Looked at him for that one agonizing moment once more. Ethan expected more pleading. More reasoning that he would have to refute. A conversation.
What he didn’t expect was the chair flying right underneath him, the other man boring into his arm with an iron grip as Ethan dangled on flimsy footing right above the room that filled his lungs with nightmares.
His own hand clung frantically to Heisenberg’s, body faintly remembering what survivor’s instinct was.
“Last chance,”- The other man said, his face a spasm between amusement and frustration. I’m holding the trump card now, that expression told him.
I won, so why do you refuse to see it?
“You don’t want to find out what’s in that hole,”- He added as though for emphasis, and Ethan didn’t tear his eyes away.
Couldn’t tear his eyes away.
He thought of Rose bubbling around in pieces. Thought of her crying.
Thought of Miranda’s hands.
A painful current passed through his spine, and just like that, his mind was electrified. His stomach was turning.
The soles of his shoes were beginning to slip.
“I am not using my daughter,”- Ethan told him through clenched teeth, and felt the grip on his arm falter. He exhaled shakily through his nose, his own fingers curling tighter.
Heisenberg raised his chin up, and Ethan had to force the next words out through his red-hot sternum.
“But-“
He exhaled, that single syllable just as painful as a scythe through his leg. A knife through his ribs.
“-if Miranda really is as strong as you say she is-”
Coiling his fingers, Heisenberg gave him a barely noticeable pull, his eyes squinting. Ethan swallowed down the bitter bile rising in his throat.
“Well. We’re not exactly left with a lot of options.”
Another pull, and he was standing on solid ground now – still precariously close to the gaping hole, a single firm push away, but at least no longer dangling over it like some helpless worm.
The other man levelled him with a gaze, mouth thin. He didn’t let go of his arm.
“What, exactly, are you proposing?”
Ethan didn’t let go either.
“A truce.”
Heisenberg’s eyebrows shot up.
“You want to partner up?”
“Call it whatever you want, but it sounds like you’re going to need all the manpower you can get,”- Ethan took a step forward, unnecessary but needed. His grip tightened. He could negotiate this, -“And I sure as hell am not going to turn out the only helping hand that’s been offered – even if it is yours.”
He could save Rose.
That was all that mattered.
Heisenberg made a sudden noise, something between a gasp and a chuckle. Something angry. Something incredulous.
“So now it’s you doing me a favor!?”
“Take it or leave it,”- He offered cautiously, words somehow both softer and harsher than he intended, -“We rescue Rose. Make sure she’s safe. Kill Miranda. This was always the plan, and I will do it with or without you.”
And just as he was certain no more words were needed, he found himself talking anyway.
“Help out or don’t get in my way.”
He watched the other man watch him, his eyes all too sharp without the shades, all too quick and bright on that gray and beige face, and Ethan’s pulse began to quicken once more. His breath hitched.
He hated the way his breath hitched.
His arm was beginning to ache.
Just as suddenly and impulsively as everything else he’s seen this man do, Heisenberg was throwing his head back, his laughter echoing up and down and out of the hole, mixing in with the revving noises that once again filled up the electric air.
“There’s that unfounded confidence that kept you breathing through the night!”- He roared over the sound of metal splitting metal, arms wide as he finally let go of Ethan, taking a large step back and putting his sunglasses back on, -“Now I see what’s been keeping them all hooked!”
Ethan turned his head in the direction of “them”, took one more look at the faces of the people – the monsters – he’s slaughtered in the course of the day.
He tried to suppress whatever feeling was beginning to claw its way up his throat.
By the time he turned back towards Heisenberg he could only see the man’s back briskly striding down a hall he could swear wasn’t there just a moment ago, beckoning him to follow.
“Let’s get moving then, Ethan!”- He yelled, voice faint over the constant noise that Ethan was now beginning to associate with the sound of a plane propeller and certain death, -“Can’t even hear myself think in this goddamn shithole!”
He spat that last part as though it was an insult to whomever – or whatever – it was that so insistently kept on interrupting their conversation, and Ethan realized that he could move again. Inhaling sharply before taking a couple of all too precarious steps away from the hole, he finally resolved to trudge along behind, only briefly wondering if this decision was eventually going to get him killed.
He didn’t want to think whether it would get Rose-
He couldn’t think about it.
“I’m assuming you have some sort of a plan,”- He said instead, if only not to think.
“Some sort of a- Are you kidding me?”- Heisenberg snarled, not bothering to turn around as they made their way down a shoddy corridor that looked as though touching any surface would give you instant tetanus, -“What, you think I was going to walk up to Miranda, shove a gun in her face, and hope for the best?”
He didn’t look back as he said this either – Ethan knew exactly what his face looked like just then anyway.
“Has been working out for me so far,”- He muttered under his breath, kicking at a loose screw on the floor.
“Yes, well, it’s not going to work against her.”
They finally reached a single door decorated with a large golden horse crest. Heisenberg fumbled inside his coat pockets before pulling out a large keychain with a single key.
It glinted in the dim light.
“A whole army isn’t going to work against her.”
He threw the door open, and Ethan suddenly saw the inside of a surprisingly accommodating room that did not belong in this run down factory. It bore a single metal framed bed tucked away in a far corner, a tiny kitchenette right across from that, and a small round metallic table and couple of equally metallic rusted through chairs strewn about that looked only slightly sturdier than the one he found himself sitting in and falling out of mere moments ago. Random scraps and chunks littered the floor, paper and metal and god knew what else. The space looked barely used, counters barren and bed sheets made, yet Ethan still felt out of sorts stepping into what he could only presume were Heisenberg’s personal quarters.
“And we have that? An army?”- He asked uncertainly after looking around, wondering whether they came here to retrieve said army and whether it could be found biding its time in the rickety wardrobe to his right.
“Oh, we have so much more than that,”- Heisenberg grinned at him, reaching back into his coat to tuck away the key ring and bring out a new cigar instead, placing it against his lips as he struggled with a box of matches, -“There are still preparations to be made, Ethan, but once it’s done - well, let’s just say Miranda won’t see any of it coming.”
He took a long drag, exhaling a puff of ashy smoke into the ceiling, and then, as though an afterthought, extended the cigar towards Ethan with a nod.
“I don’t smoke,”- Ethan said instead, watching the other man shrug and take another long drag. He tried to disregard the sudden shiver that came over him as a winter chill, -“W-Well, what the hell are we waiting for, then!? Let’s get out of here and-“
“Hold your horses, pops. We’re not ready yet.”
“Ready? What is there to be ready for, we just-“
“Listen, Ethan,”- Heisenberg was up in his face in a flash once again, and Ethan suddenly could see himself being forced onto another chair, shoved down and made to sit in place. His legs felt pathetic and his chest clenched in anticipation – but the man didn’t make another move, simply stood there. Entirely too close.
“It’s like you don’t even listen.”
Ethan tried to pretend he didn’t feel awkwardly disappointed. Tightened the grip around his gun instead.
“I just said there was a plan. And plans require time.”
He could deal with being pushed around, with constant attacks and violence. He had no idea how to handle a sudden moment of peace, even if he did propose it himself.
Heisenberg smelled like cigar smoke.
“Time!? Time!?”- Ethan felt his hands shake, -“We don’t have any goddamn time to-“
“Do you want to throw all this out the goddamn window!? Want Miranda to do as she pleases with Rose!?”
He was now dangerously close to walking out the door.
“Okay, look. Why don’t you take some time to regroup?”- The other man finally moved away, letting him breathe in a breath he didn’t know he desperately needed, -“Take a seat, relax, put your feet up, for fuck’s sake! Make yourself at home! You deserve a little rest after everything you’ve been through, don’t you, Ethan?”
It’s not a trap, Heisenberg told him when he was on his way to this factory, and it sounded about as reassuring then as this did now. Ethan was certain that he won’t be able to relax for the rest of his actual life after this. Not after everything he’s been through. Especially not after everything.
“And where will you be going?”
“To make those final preparations,”- He was now moving backwards across the room, hands splayed out, that shit-eating smile never leaving his face, -“Check up on few things, add a few final tweaks. You know how it is.”
And right before he stepped out the back door and right after Ethan missed his chance to protest, he added, -“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, Ethan. I’ll be back before you know it.”
And with that, Heisenberg disappeared into the noise filled air of his factory.
-
It has been several hours until he returned.
Actually, it could as well have been several minutes, but that thought was way less reassuring and way more pitiful.
After rummaging through every drawer possible, picking up piles of metal scrap, random packs of ammo and several herbs, pocketing one of Heisenberg’s slightly damp cigars and flipping through several pages of his diary denoting the creation of “Soldats”, Ethan resolved to plopping one of the shitty metal chairs against the closest wall and plopping himself right down on it. He was definitely feeling way too exhausted to actually sit and soak it all in, way too agitated to be here in the first place. His every nerve and sense was buzzing with the need to move, and his numerous injuries burned, burned, burned. For the first time since losing his fingers was he beginning to feel phantom pains, the loss acutely piercing through his left arm and shoulder when he tried to flex his hand, wincing at the movement that never reached his ring and pinky phalanges. His knee was bouncing and his mind kept replaying scenarios of all and everything that could go wrong going wrong, and amidst all that his gaze was fixed on a single spot of rust colored stain on the old worn out carpet all the way until Heisenberg unceremoniously burst through the backdoor, scattering a few metallic parts across the floor.
Ethan’s first impulse was to jump right out of the chair, and when his body didn’t listen, he resorted to simply snapping his head up in equal parts greeting, inquiry, annoyance and excitement.
Most dangerous of them all, Duke told him a forever ago, and those words kept replaying over and over and over in his restless brain like a broken record until he’d almost convinced himself he was actually glad to have Heisenberg on his side.
“Good. You’re still here!”- Said man stopped in his step, voice colored with surprise, -“Feeling better?”
Maybe he expected Ethan to bail by now. Maybe he simply forgot he was there.
“How’re the Soldats coming along?”- Ethan asked instead, fingers interlacing with one another, ring and pinky awkwardly hanging out without their proper place, legs simply refusing to let him stand.
Heisenberg quirked his head to one side, a small incredulous smile gracing his lips, -“How do you- Hm. I see someone’s been doing their homework.”
“You leave stuff lying around.”
He nodded for a long moment, slowly placing his hands on his hips as he kept on staring at Ethan.
And kept on staring.
And kept on staring long enough for that weird alien ache to return to Ethan’s bones, make him want to squirm in his seat if his body had any resolve whatsoever left in it.
And then he simply shook his head, looked at his feet as though he couldn’t believe any of this was happening, and turned back to walking across the room towards the tiny bedside table.
“Well, to answer your question, they’re coming along just fine. Revving and ravenous,”- He stated simply, rummaging around for something Ethan couldn’t see.
“Great,”- He swallowed down in turn, finally willing his heavy, ginormous, colossal feeling body to lean forward in the chair, getting ready to stand up powering through on fumes and the rushing adrenalin alone, -“Let’s do this.”
“Woah, slow down there, cowboy,”- Heisenberg suddenly turned to him, a precariously small bottle dangling in his hand as he spread his arms out, -“We still got several hours until-“
“Several hours!?”- Ethan’s head shot up, something way too close to the surface of his skin slowly beginning to boil.
Not a trap.
“You said you were going to make checks and tweaks!”
“Yes, and now that those are mostly done we need to wait until dawn for the ceremony to start so-“
“Have you gone completely crazy!?”- He was shouting now, realizing that he had finally managed to stand up without noticing it. That his knees were shaking, -“We don’t have that kind of time, Rose will-“
“With all due respect, Ethan, your daughter isn’t exactly going anywhere. Not in the state she’s in.”
Heisenberg grinned. Ethan heard his breath catch.
“No, you know what? Fuck this. Fuck you. I’m going alone.”
He didn’t have the time to figure out how he was going to take the next step – didn’t have to. Because in the very next second, metal scraps were levitating off of the floor and darting out to throw him backwards, knees buckling against the metal chair so he was sitting back down, his wrists now pinned painfully against the wall.
He immediately tried to dash forward, and the metal bore right down into his very bone.
“Sit. Down.”
Ethan let out a breath.
Now this? This, he understood.
He only wished he could reach his gun.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going!? Miranda is going to kill you!”
Heisenberg moved slowly towards him, his outstretched hand lowering back down, a snarl over his face which made Ethan think of full moons and howling and silver bullets to the face.
He wouldn’t be able to stop silver bullets, would he?
“I’m starting to think I might as well take my chances,”- Ethan growled back, voice hoarse and aching.
“And leave me to clean up your mess!? No, thank you, I’d rather just kill you myself.”
“Big talk for someone who’s too afraid to go up against mommy-”
Wrong thing to say, the metal cuffs on his wrists told him, their grasp suddenly growing that much tighter, extracting another hopeless grunt. Ethan tried not to think of how much force it would require to pop his hands clean off. Crush his bone into dust. Sever at his skin. He somehow had no doubt Heisenberg could do it if he wanted to.
Most dangerous of them all.
No amount of chem fluid was going to reattach his hands after that.
“You have no goddamn clue what she’s capable of, you pathetic idiot. She won’t leave a wet stain once she’s through with you – and then she’ll come for me. I am not going to let that happen, Ethan.”
“Yes, well,”- He tried again, feeling as though the metal was crushing his larynx and not his arms, -“I’ve taken out three of your kind already. What’s a couple more to boot?”
Heisenberg lurched forward then, a mean expression painted over his features as he leaned in, further, further, that snarl so visceral it was all canines and blood and meat and bone, and Ethan could pull back only so far until his head connected with the wall and Heisenberg’s face was in his neck.
He groaned involuntarily. Shut his eyes and prepared for the sting-
- And then Heisenberg took a deep, deep breath in through his nose.
“Did you just- Did you just smell me!?”- Ethan stammered out breathlessly, eyes flying open as something in his abdomen sunk and he bucked against the metal restraints once more. And here he thought he could predict where this was going.
This damn village was going to drive him completely mad.
“Death… and decay,”- The other man muttered, coarse beard hairs scratching at Ethan’s Adam’s apple, his neck craning further and further till the strain was tugging at his very veins, -“You reek of it, Ethan. You really think Miranda is going to let you walk when you smell like that?”
Ethan didn’t say a word – couldn’t even form a word in his mind, had no idea what he could possibly say, Heisenberg’s own smell of metal and gasoline and cigar smoke penetrating his every sense. His breath was everything but stable, his pulse breaking through his skin.
Was this room always this suffocating?
“Dammit, Ethan, I’m on your side here!”- Heisenberg barked, the noise resonating in Ethan’s very chest cavity, his every hair standing on end by the time he pulled away and took a step back, -“Don’t you get it!?”
He didn’t get it. Didn’t want to get it.
He swallowed down, and the air was still too hot.
“We need to wait till Miranda’s busy with the ceremony - then, we strike. She’ll never see it coming.”
He was taking his sunglasses off again, running a heavy hand over his eyes. Then he looked up, and looked at Ethan, and Ethan breathed out heavy because he was starting to hate the way the other man looked.
In this light, his irises were practically white.
“Who is going to protect Rose once you’re fucking dead?”
He said nothing. The restraints let up, and he missed the pain intensely.
He understood pain. There was nothing to negotiate when violence was involved.
And now, there was only a dull itch, and the sense that his very world was crumbling – just like when he woke up outside that overturned van, a dead body and a ringing phone for company.
“Trust me on this, Ethan.”
Then, it was lonely and frigid and cold. But now…
“We’re partners, remember?”
Every inch of his being was burning up as he slowly nodded, not trusting his dried up throat with making a sound.
“At least till Miranda’s done and dealt with,”- Heisenberg added with an almost imperceptible smile, and Ethan’s brows furrowed.
“...And after?”
“Let’s not jump too far ahead, shall we? All that matters is that I’m not going to betray you.”
He took a slow step forward, too close. Too far. Ethan hated everything in that one moment.
“You will get Rose back.”
“Fine,”- He finally relented, hating it all that much more, the word tasting acidic on his tongue. He wanted, needed the metal on his wrists to tighten. Why was it still there.
Why was it barely touching his skin.
“We wait till dawn,”- Ethan nodded once again, more to himself than anyone else, saying something just to say anything and stop inhaling the smell of cigar and rust, -“But this better work.”
“It will. It has to,”- Heisenberg nodded at him, no longer looking his way, –“I’ve waited too damn long.”
He whispered that last part. A hollow silence stretched the room thin.
Ethan was still burning, and it concentrated just below his waist.
And he missed home dearly. Everything was so monochrome back then. Their hiding, their fear, their happiness – quiet, simple, muted. The pain wasn’t painful. The smiles didn’t hurt.
It was fine. It was good. Lukewarm.
“...Rose.”
Everything felt so much now. Absolutely everything.
He was miserable.
Heisenberg looked at him from the corner of his eye, and Ethan looked up slowly.
“Rose will be sacrificed at the ceremony?”
He saw the other man sigh. Watched him pull out yet another cigar.
“In a manner of speaking. She is going to become the new vessel for Miranda’s true child.”
“True child?”- Ethan blinked at him, and thought that this was good. He could handle conversation. Probably.
“What, another Lord?”
“Please. We were never her children,”- Heisenberg placed the cigar on the table without lighting, not sparing it a second glance, -“Just a bunch of ragtag experiments that didn’t lose their minds. Well, not all of us, anyway.”
“But why...”- Ethan couldn’t help the question he’s been so successfully avoiding all night, morning, day, and evening. A question he had no idea if he truly wanted to know the answer to. Whatever was holding it back now has burned through, though, and his guts were spilling onto the floor, -“Why her? Out of everyone in the goddamn world, why did it have to be Rose!?”
The other man looked amused, smile almost gentle as his eyes developed crinkles at their edges. Ethan grit his teeth. Tried not to blink.
“You really have no clue how powerful she is, do you?”
He had no idea if he actually was expected to answer – so he kept quiet. Watched Heisenberg and that out of place look on his face. He thought it didn’t suit him. He thought about that giant hammer and wondered where it was.
“It doesn’t matter, really,”- Heisenberg finally said as he shook his head, smile dropping, -“I suspect a lot of it has to do with you, anyway.”
And Ethan held his breath.
“...Me?”
“Who else? You are very special indeed, Ethan,”- He began to walk closer yet again. Ethan could swear the corners of his vision blurred. The scrape of metal against his wrists became that much more noticeable, like a couple of snakes slowly coiling their way around him.
He swallowed hard as that pair of impossibly gray eyes scanned him up and down. Slowly. Shamelessly.
“Your body is... Well, it’s something. Personally, I’m quite... interested in it.”
Filthily.
Ethan felt filthy.
And Heisenberg definitely took pleasure from standing over him like this.
His stomach turned in knots and his jaw clenched painfully as he tried his best and failed to prevent the words from spilling out of his lips.
“Are you... hitting on me?”
Fuck.
He asked and cursed internally immediately after, feeling that much dirtier.
Filthy, filthy, filthy.
It didn’t matter that the thought first entered his head back when he heard the other man enunciate his name, it didn’t matter that it continued to haunt him and evolve from ridiculous to creepy to anxiety-inducing all in the span of a couple of hours. And it definitely did not matter that Heisenberg was now staring at him like a piece of meat moments away from being torn apart, a small incredulous smirk blooming into a full sized grin – it did not matter that he felt his damned pulse betray him once again as it began to jump around his body.
Didn’t matter.
He should have stayed quiet.
By the look on Heisenberg’s face, he should have stayed quiet.
“Oh! Oh, that is rich!”
He wished it didn’t burn.
Loud laughter filled the impossibly hot air of the tiny room, Heisenberg’s eyes blown wide open in that very same expression that told Ethan You never fail to surprise me, -“Where does it all come from!?”
He laughed. And he shook his head. And he laughed some more.
And then Ethan shifted in his chair, and suddenly he was no longer laughing – rather, he was walking closer, those metal cuffs piercing and cutting through Ethan’s skin without so much as a warning, and Ethan’s heart was in his throat and his curse was out his chest.
“Fuck-!”
“Then again... You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Fuck,”- Was all Ethan could manage, wondering if he would even be able to move his wrists afterwards. His hands have been through worse than this – he could manage. He could…
“Only if you ask nicely.”
He threw his head back against the wall again, banging it with a loud thud, incapable of nothing more when Heisenberg crouched down in front of him and began to slowly rack his gloved hands up his thighs.
Whatever Ethan was breathing with just then, it certainly weren’t his lungs – his entire chest was on fire and he meekly tugged at the restraints. It stung.
This – this, he had no clue how he could handle.
Heisenberg laughed again, but it was almost aggressive. A bark of a sound, a single ‘Ha!’, low and reverberating in Ethan’s lower abdomen despite the overpowering need to vomit.
“Really, Ethan, your wife’s body is still warm to the touch and you’re already spreading your legs for another man-“
“Don’t talk about her like that,”- Ethan remembered himself for a moment, a brief goddamn moment that felt akin to a breath in freezing winter air after spending an eternity in a furnace. He tried to kick, and his legs did not listen, -“And don’t fucking touch me.”
Heisenberg’s hands did pause – if only for a second. And then he looked up, and his grin was all sharp teeth and promise to use them.
“No one can blame you for being exhausted, papa,”- He continued to growl, the now soft, barely-there hands tracing the fine seaming of Ethan’s denim jeans, - “All that running around, the pain and the adrenalin... And the worst is yet to come!”
He dug his fingers into Ethan’s legs at that, and Ethan gasped out as his insides twitched.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to let go? Just for a minute?”
“I said-“- He began, voice sharp, and swallowed his own damn tongue when his eyes met Heisenberg’s.
He was no longer smiling.
Ethan wanted to melt into the wall. Dammit, he should have stayed quiet.
“Look, Ethan, I think we have a misunderstanding here,”- Heisenberg began, thumbs slowly, slowly, so painfully slowly rubbing up, the leather and the denim heating up in between sweaty skin.
“Damn right we do,“- Ethan muttered, and tried not to push into the touch.
“You see, this is hardly any more dignified for me than it is for you,”- The other man continued, fingers circling, impossibly light, as though trying to pretend they weren’t there in the first place. Ethan knew they were. He felt them just fine, -“But I’ve been working, too. And personally, I think I’d like to let go. Waste some time, so to speak.”
And at this, Heisenberg tilted his head, and grinned.
“We got time to waste.”
He kept on looking at Ethan, as though waiting for a sign. As though Ethan could ever possibly agree to-
As though Ethan could even entertain the idea of-
“How about this then,”- He suddenly said with a heavy breath when whatever expression Ethan’s face was contorted into didn’t seem to satisfy, -“You… don’t have to say anything.”
His voice dropped to a whisper at the same time as his eyes dropped down to stare at Ethan’s crotch. Ethan’s hips reared back into the chair. His heart was in his throat.
“Just don’t stop me, Ethan. And then we can both... Pretend.”
Heisenberg didn’t say anything else, barely made another sound or move. Just licked at his lips, slowly.
And Ethan- Well, Ethan just sat there, constrained to the wall, legs shaking, hands shaking, this- this man that he was fully intent on killing just a couple of hours ago in between his thighs, and his cock fucking throbbing. It was the most miserable he’s felt in goddamn years.
He was burning.
He never wanted to not be burning.
Heisenberg didn’t look like he was breathing.
Without making a sound, Ethan turned his head to the side and held his own breath. Grit his teeth. He felt those damn hands methodically, achingly move up his thighs, pet up his lap and slide alongside his jeans’ pockets over to his belt. He could swear he was experiencing vertigo.
“Okay. Okay,”- Heisenberg kept on whispering, and he couldn’t see his face but he could swear that that shit-eating grin was plastered all over it, and suddenly, the hands were gone, and Ethan didn’t dare look, -“Good. Perfect. Close your eyes.”
He did as he was told without a thought. Was simply glad the other didn’t gloat.
He didn’t dare think. In fact, thinking was the last thing he wanted to do, ever, because then he would realize that he’s made a decision here, and god, what did that say about him-
“Shit...”- He muttered when the hands returned, now noticeably glove free, and burning even hotter than Ethan himself, something about Heisenberg’s skin scorching like a goddamn oven. His eyes flew open involuntarily when he felt, heard his belt being opened, his body already shifting in its seat for easier access. He didn’t dare turn his head.
He really wanted to turn his head.
He exhaled a slow breath, and he didn’t think.
Heisenberg’s fingers were at his zipper now, the sound of it sliding down like the crack of thunder to his ear in the quiet room. Ethan was struggling not to pant, swallowing hard when his tongue kept drying up from all the hot air. The silence was killing him. The sound of his breathing was making him sick.
When did this room become so stuffy. He needed air. He desperately needed-
“Fuck!”- Ethan screamed desperately bucking forward when Heisenberg’s face was suddenly stuffed into his crotch, nose and mouth pressed to his still-covered cock as he took another deep, filthy inhale.
When did this happen. How did this-
“Fuck is right, Ethan,”- He muttered, lips moving against the shaft with every word, hot breath making Ethan’s hips twitch and his legs fall apart wider, -“You smell like... Fuck.”
Ethan couldn’t breathe. He could not goddamn breathe and he didn’t want to breathe.
He tried pulling at the restraints again, and they still did not let up. An electric chill ran down his spine and he began to grind his hips against Heisenberg’s face, desperate for literally any kind of friction, even if the beard did itch.
“Fuck,”- He muttered breathlessly again when the other pulled away, finally looking at Heisenberg for the first time since he somehow agreed to this happening, saw that exact grin that he was expecting, and suddenly, those canines did not look so much terrifying as inviting.
Suddenly, he felt like he could negotiate this too.
“Your mouth-“
Ethan swallowed again, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down painfully as whatever he wanted to say died down just as suddenly as it came up. He saw Heisenberg blink at him in dry amusement, watched him slowly stand up and take off his stained-through trench.
“Don’t talk, alright? Make this easier for both of us.”
Ethan obeyed gladly, instead opting to look over the curve of muscle underneath the yellow shirt, the peak of collarbone where the buttons weren’t closed. Everything about Heisenberg was distinctly man and that, too, drove him absolutely wild. He’s never done this before. Never thought he’d want to. Never had any reason to.
Then the other lurched forward towards his face, and Ethan’s head connected with the concrete wall one more painful time.
Heisenberg stopped just shy of his lips, still grinning as a deep, cigar stained laugh escaped his chest.
“Ethan, please. Did you really think I’d stoop so low as to defile you with a kiss?”
Then again, he never met any other man quite like Karl Heisenberg.
His words were one thing, but they were also burning against Ethan’s mouth and they were hungrily gulping each other’s breaths in the tiny space between them. And then, just as fast and unassuming as everything he did, Heisenberg stuffed his nose into Ethan’s neck again and took another desperate huff.
“Could smell you all day when you’re like this,”- Ethan heard him mutter, low enough to be a vibration, quiet enough that Ethan thought it wasn’t meant to be heard at all, and it was almost concerning how flattering he found those words to be all things considered. The heat went straight to his cheeks. He was goddamn blushing.
Heisenberg placed a steady hand on his cheek, angled his face away as he swiftly licked at his neck, and then just as quickly bit down with his horribly sharp teeth.
“Shit!”- Ethan yelled, his voice a shameful moan that he couldn’t prevent even if he wanted to, and his hips were once again seeking friction in the shitty metal chair that he was beginning to hate. It scraped against the floor painfully.
The bite wasn’t anything Ethan expected, and it was everything he wanted. He threw his wrists against the restraints again, panting hard as Heisenberg sucked at his pulse, never feeling so exposed in his life. The other man’s hand slid down to palm his cock, and Ethan felt his eyes roll backwards in his head.
The words were spilling out of his mouth before he could even catch himself, his voice low and distant and not his own when he heard himself begging, -“Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.”
He could only remain quiet for so long, it seemed.
Heisenberg paused in leaving hard bites at his neck, raised his head to look at him once again in raw wonder.
Interesting, he called Ethan, and in hindsight, that statement could have meant absolutely anything. Facts about European bird migration patterns were interesting. Didn’t mean Ethan was going to fuck a crow any time soon.
“Please,”- He asked. Nicely.
And just this once – just this goddamn once he was glad that interesting really did mean what he thought it meant, because Ethan was so hard it hurt to move, and Heisenberg looked like he could very easily move Ethan himself.
And so he did exactly that.
As if in slow motion, he saw the other man pull back and take a few certain steps back, eyes never leaving Ethan’s, a hand flying out in front as Ethan simultaneously found himself being lifted off into the air, the pull on his wrists unreal, his arms feeling like they were going to pop right out of their shoulder sockets any second now. The world went black for a second as he was being turned around in mid-air, the room and all its contents tumbling in his vision as he was sent flying back across the entirety of it, finally landing with his back thrown against the weirdly hard bedding.
His breath was knocked out of him.
His entire body melted regardless.
And his wrists were still pinned up over his head with the metal scraps, arms beginning to feel sore.
He was lying on this shitty, dusty bed in this shitty, dusty room, completely helpless and hopeless after what was definitely the absolute worst day of his life, body and mind burning through with pain, this person who was more animal than man, who came excruciatingly close to ending Ethan’s very life, who could still end it with a single sweep of his hand looking at him like he was going to consume him.
And as Heisenberg quietly began to make his way over there, taking the time to unstrap his belts and tug off the random pieces of scrap he had hanging around his neck, Ethan wondered why in the fucking hell was he finding all of this so agonizingly arousing.
He heard the other man throw the belts down to the floor, buckles hitting the shaggy carpet with a dull clink, shirt undone to mid-waist by the time he reached the bed; watched as he climbed onto it one knee at a time, throwing them over Ethan’s body and lowering his full weight on top of his thighs.
Ethan squirmed underneath it, and refused to think any more.
“I figured you were impatient, but really, Ethan…”- Heisenberg leaned down slowly, hovered over his lips for the briefest of seconds before going for the neck again, and Ethan practically whined, -“You need to learn how to let go.”
He felt a scrape of teeth right in the middle of his throat, Heisenberg making his way down as he licked with his tongue, reaching the hollow spot between the collarbones and just- sucking right at the skin there. Ethan’s entire body arched up, and the other man’s hands were on his hip and shoulder, holding him down easily, pressing him into the bed like he didn’t weigh a thing.
“Yeah, well- Some might say I got issues,”- He rasped out finally finding his voice, pushing against the hold that he was certain was going to leave blisters on his skin. He felt the following chuckle rumble through Heisenberg’s chest into his own and shuddered.
“Then I’ll just have to fuck you so hard you’ll forget all about those, hm?”
His whole body was shuddering. His head was swimming.
Ethan was used to being manhandled – it was basically his second nature at this point, what with everything that happened in Louisiana and in the past day. But he was no goddamn pushover – he was used to fighting back.
So he pulled at the restraints again, desperate, knowing full well they wouldn’t budge a bit, and he bucked his body against the hand that was as solid as metal itself, that was now travelling underneath his shirt, slowly, painstakingly, and he craned his neck back far enough that he was now staring at the rust colored wall.
And when none of that worked, and when Heisenberg simply continued to nip at his collarbone, his burning fingers slowly raking up Ethan’s stomach, up to his nipple where he began to rub with his thumb, Ethan swallowed down the remainders of his pride that he didn’t think he’d still have anywhere on him, and did what he hated most.
He asked for help.
“Heisenberg,”- He whispered, voice hoarse and dry as his wrists kept wriggling in the cuffs, still trying knowing full well there was no point. He could negotiate this one, too.
“Ethan, please,”- The other man murmured against his stomach, where he was now pressing a particularly wet and toothy bite. Ethan let out a hiss, -“I think we might as well be on a first name basis, all things considered. At least, while your cock is still hard.”
And he punctuated his claim by pressing an almost gentle kiss down next to Ethan’s navel as he ran his fingertips alongside his bulge, making Ethan’s guts knot together.
Swallowing down the suffocating grip on his throat, Ethan tried again.
“Karl.”
His bones were at their breaking point with how hard he was pulling.
“I also wouldn’t object to ‘sir’, or maybe ‘daddy’, but use those at your own discretion,”- The other muttered from somewhere close to Ethan’s ribs, his smile stretched out against sore skin.
“Karl,”- Ethan simply said, and then, when Heisenberg didn’t so much as budge, he huffed out an angry breath, his tone guttural, -“Karl, goddammit, look at me.”
He did.
Heisenberg raised his eyes, blinking slowly from underneath his hat. From this angle, they somehow looked a soft brown. Almost like a puppy’s.
He raised an eyebrow.
Ethan swallowed.
“I want you to free my arms,”- He stated matter of fact, and watched as the other man grew tense, shoulders visibly stiffening up underneath the rumpled shirt.
There was a gut-wrenching moment of absolute silence, with nothing but the distant sounds of machine whirring and their heavy, messed up breathing to fill in the gaps. Ethan squared his jaw, and tried not to lick his dried out lips.
And then, Heisenberg moved his hand, and the restraints were gone, violently scratching Ethan’s hands as they flew into the wall across and got lodged in the concrete, cracks webbing their way around the holes.
“What, the daddy thing was too far for you?”
Ethan suddenly felt drunk with the regained freedom, immediately rubbing at his burning, itching, pulsing wrists, each bearing red rings of angry inflamed skin.
“Hm. You’re no fun,”- Heisenberg said then, voice a breathless whisper and expression dark as he began to throw his knees off of Ethan. And before he could move another inch, Ethan’s hands were on his shoulders, his face, his neck, roughly pulling him back in, lips pressing hard against Heisenberg’s and he didn’t hesitate for even a second before darting out a tongue and inserting it into the other man’s mouth. The beard was coarse and itchy against Ethan’s skin, their teeth clicking together from the sheer force, and his hands immediately got lost in the long frustratingly soft hair, finally knocking back that stupid hat that he’s hated since the moment he laid eyes on it. He thought Heisenberg made a noise and proceeded to ignore it, moved instead to take his own jacket off tongue still in the other’s cheek, threw it across the room without ever opening his eyes, and in a second his hands were back on Heisenberg’s face. He held it with enough force to bruise, was hoping to leave a bruise, his fingernails digging in and leaving angry red marks against his cheeks, adding more scars to his collection, his teeth meanwhile catching on the one that decorated Heisenberg’s lips. He licked at it temperamentally, liked the shape it formed against his tongue, and felt the other man press an unsteady hand against his chest, pushing him back. Ethan allowed it to, but not before catching his bottom lip between his teeth and pulling back - and only then did he finally let go and take the deepest goddamn breath he’d taken yet.
Well. He, for one, had no idea he was going to do that. That was the drawback of not thinking.
Things happened.
Heisenberg was panting loudly, mouth hanging open, something canine in his expression as he simply stared, eyes wide in shock and wonder and a nasty trail of saliva smeared against his crimson lips. Ethan’s fingers detangled from the messy hair and got wrapped inside his collar instead, pulling him down on top.
That was the benefit of not thinking too, actually. Things happened.
“Well, well, well. Ethan Winters,”- Heisenberg practically purred, stretching out that final ‘S’ against Ethan’s lips, -“Playing dirty, are we?”
“Wouldn’t have to if you weren’t taking your damn time,”- Ethan bit back, drinking in Heisenberg’s laughter with his throat as his own fingers kept travelling further down, finding those remaining buttons of his shirt and working to undo them.
If they were doing this, they were doing this. He didn’t give a damn anymore. Not after tonight.
“So impatient,”- The other man muttered before leaning back into the kiss, his full body weight pressing Ethan down into the bed as he lapped at Ethan’s mouth, tongue practically in his throat, and Ethan moaned desperate, dirty, loud. He did not give a damn.
His hips ground upwards, finally finding friction against Heisenberg’s solid leg, and Ethan dry humped his thigh while Heisenberg’s cigar tasting tongue did horribly filthy things to his mouth. Ethan’s hands grew their own consciousness, suddenly travelling to his dick completely of their own volition, grabbing at the sweaty, hot skin inside his boxers and pulling it out to feel the coarse texture of Heisenberg’s pants. Heisenberg, in turn, finally moved his hands away from Ethan’s face, and was now actively trying to pull off his jeans and sweaty boxers. Ethan didn’t even hesitate before lifting his hips up, found himself gasping and whining when Heisenberg pulled away, his leg and that desperately needed friction now replaced with the frustrating air of the room that was somehow both too hot and too cold.
Ethan more felt than saw the other man begin to untie his boots, throwing an arm over his eyes as his other hand kept working his dick, a slow but steady rhythm, his entire willpower in that one movement that was so much but not nearly enough. He was nearing his edge, and he needed to calm down. He wouldn’t come yet. He couldn’t.
Because then it’d be over. Because then he’d have to face-
“Look at me,”- Heisenberg’s rough hand was suddenly at his jaw, forcing Ethan’s head from underneath his arm, -“Ethan. I want you to watch me. Want you to see me make you cum.”
Ethan near damn choked on his own saliva, eyes practically glued to the other as he pulled off his shirt and threw it somewhere behind, somewhere into the other pile of their dirty messed up clothes – and everything about his body practically smelled of man. The curve of the muscle, the edge of the collarbone, the musk – Ethan was driven crazy by how unfamiliar everything was. Terrifying.
Hot as fuck.
His hands finally left his dick to touch at Heisenberg’s chest hair, thick and curling and strange and so unlike anything of his own. His fingers got lost in it as the other man leaned in once again, an absolutely feral smile painted over his lips as he muttered into Ethan’s neck, -“What? Like what you see?”
“Don’t get cocky,”- Ethan spat back, pinching at a nipple and receiving a way more enthusiastic response than he’d anticipated.
“Mm. Say cocky again.”
He felt Heisenberg’s bulge at his thigh then, grinding once, twice, all the while his lips kept sucking at a single spot at the base of his neck, and he momentarily wondered if he was being fucked or eaten here. Feeling curiosity get the damn better of him yet again, he bit down his lip hard, before allowing himself to mutter quietly, -“Think I’d much rather just take your cock.”
Heisenberg bit down. Hard.
Ethan moaned loudly and didn’t hate how the pain spread throughout the arm like a jolt of lightning. Lycan teeth sinking into his flesh momentarily flashed behind his closed eyes, and he wasn’t sure he could ever sustain another bite ever again without his dick immediately taking interest.
His hands were pulling at Heisenberg’s hair, wanting him to move, needing him to move, to feel those hands, those teeth, that dick. And when the other man finally unclenched his jaws and let go, Ethan immediately crashed their mouths together with no regard for how messy it felt to taste his own blood on the other’s tongue.
“Yeah? You’re gonna take my cock, Ethan?”- Heisenberg panted into his mouth, pulling him up, -“Just wait. Gonna fuck you long and hard. Gonna make you fucking scream.”
Before he knew it, he had somehow climbed into Heisenberg’s lap, was now grinding against his stomach, against his happy trail, his gut, fingers clutching at the beard and tongue lost inside a mouth that was all cigar and wet, and he felt like a damn bitch in heat trying to get off on his own here, more desperate than ever to be fucked. And Heisenberg, damn that fucking monster of a man, pressed his giant calloused hands into Ethan’s hips, fingernails digging into his ass, and in a single move lifted him up into the air and dropped him back down on the hard, spring loaded bed.
Ethan felt the wind get knocked out of him, exhaled hard into the musty air.
“I said wait,”- The other man commanded looking down on him, lips purple and wet and stomach stained with precome, and Ethan felt a full-body shudder run through him like a fucking electric current.
“Do we have to teach you how to behave, Ethan,”- Heisenberg asked, more a statement than a question. He slowly got off the bed, a hand carefully slipping down the waist of his pants, and Ethan felt his mouth run dry.
“Don’t fucking move until I get back.”
He watched with baited breath as that hand snaked underneath the slacks, strokes slow and methodical, his eyes glued to the movement. It certainly helped that Heisenberg was walking through the room backwards, his own gaze just as fixated on watching Ethan’s every twitch.
“That’s right. Just watch. See how fucking hard I am for you, Ethan.”
And Ethan didn’t dare twitch.
His fingers were tangled in the rough yellowed bed sheets and his jaw hurt. But he didn’t move. Didn’t know if he could at this point, really.
Heisenberg only turned his back when he reached the table, picked up something off it and then turned to make his way back, all while jacking himself off shamelessly, breathily. Ethan could see the tip of his dick now and his throat closed up.
When Heisenberg sat back down on the bed, knees spread wide open in between Ethan’s legs, he watched him open a familiar looking bottle and squeeze it into his hand.
“That’s the one from before,”- Ethan noted astutely, eyes frantically travelling between Heisenberg’s own and his hand that was now dipping below the waist of his pants again. He was begging to seriously hate that one single article of clothing.
“Lubricant, Ethan,”- Heisenberg replied just as wisely, licking his lips when his voice sounded a tad too dry, -“Had a feeling we might need it.”
He had a smile on his face. Ethan’s eyes only grew larger.
“Not when- I mean, now. Not when I first-“- The other man suddenly scrambled for an explanation, and Ethan couldn’t help sitting up on his elbows to quirk an eyebrow at him, -“What I mean to say is- I didn’t intend to fuck you the moment I came into this room.”
“You didn’t,”- And despite the absolutely god awful- well, everything that has been going on since he opened his eyes the night before, Ethan found himself actually beginning to smile.
“No, it- One of the Soldats downstairs was sounding rusty.“
“So you were going to use..?”
“Lube is lube, Ethan!”- Heisenberg cracked down, both his hands flying up in the air, and fuck, Ethan couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his throat. He was having fun. He hated that he was having fun, -“I’m running out of oil, alright!? Not exactly a wide variety of suppliers around these parts. Do you even have any idea how much-!”
Ethan didn’t have any idea, and he didn’t care to find out. Instead, he reached to shut the other man up with a kiss that felt disgustingly and alarmingly tender even to himself, and at the same time he reached for the lube that was now staining the bed sheets even further.
“Well, if you didn’t intend to fuck me the moment you came into this room-“- It was Ethan’s turn to graze at the other’s neck, lips and teeth running over heated skin all the way down to the shoulder, tongue darting out to lick at the curve of muscle and tasting salt and bitterness, -“-When did you intend to fuck me?”
It’s not as though he was trying to sound salacious – he was actively curious. Besides, talking gave him the courage to finally slip a lubed up hand down Heisenberg’s disgusting trousers and curve his fingers around a thick, pulsating dick. He ran his thumb down a throbbing vein at the same time as his tongue pressed against the beat of a pulse on the other’s throat, and he felt more than heard the growl that that evoked. He gave the dick a few strokes as he continued to lick, suck, bite, patiently waiting for the answer, his own cock slowly grinding back into Heisenberg’s stomach. He felt it raise and fall with every hitched breath, every stutter and sigh, and he felt powerful. In control.
He felt good.
Until, of course, Heisenberg’s hands came to tug him by the hair, raise his face up to be kissed as he was being pushed onto his back once more, hand still desperately trying to find the right rhythm at which to jack off another guy. Touching a dick that was not his own was novel. The smell in the room was novel.
Despite everything, he still felt damn good.
And then Heisenberg pulled back entirely, taking a moment to look Ethan down with a smile so small it made his insides twist, and then just as suddenly his hands were behind Ethan’s knees, lifting them up as he began to manually turn him over like a life-sized doll.
“Hey, what are you-“
“Well,”- Heisenberg interrupted him, voice something else entirely now as his slick hands ran up and down Ethan’s bare legs, nails lightly scratching where they caught on scars, -“I first thought about fucking you when I saw your dainty little face.”
Another twist, and Ethan was on his stomach now, unsure of how he ended up in this position and feeling weirdly exposed, all things considered. He furrowed his eyebrows at the statement still, trying to recall what he could about their first meeting.
“I first wanted to fuck you-“- A tug at his hips, and Ethan was now basically ass up in the air, feeling like he should probably say something about this and finding that his throat very much refused to work, -“-When you survived my game, and I realized you were very much unlike all the other meat that went through the grinder.”
He could barely breathe now, nose stuffed into the dust smelling pillow and eyes staring wildly into the darkness, terrified of what was going to come next. His dick gave a desperate twitch, neglected, aching. His fingers clutched at the bed sheets.
“And I first knew I was going to fuck you-“- Heisenberg slapped at one of his thighs, then the other, moving them further apart, and Ethan frantically tried not to think about what this looked like, what he was doing, what was going to happen, because-
“-When you first spread those gorgeous legs of yours for me, Ethan.”
Ethan swallowed hard as he felt a wet and slick finger push its way inside him, stomach tied in knots and nausea clouding his barely functioning mind as he didn’t want to remember when exactly was it that he first spread his legs for this man.
He groaned painfully when it was fully in, Heisenberg, for once, not bothering to take his time. Ethan brought up his own arm to bite down on it painfully, the thought that he really was spreading his legs for Heisenberg not leaving his damn head for a second.
Spreading his legs while his wife was-
But that, too, was interrupted when Heisenberg pulled out roughly and replaced the single finger with two, the awkward discomfort now turning into a proper burn inside and out. Ethan’s teeth sank into his flesh deeper, back arching out, and he whined.
“C’mon, don’t be shy now,”- Heisenberg all but mocked him, and for a second Ethan wondered how offended would he be if he were to shoot him just then. Not like it would kill him.
That’d be too easy.
“I want to hear you scream, Ethan.”
And when he added a third finger, definitely way too goddamn early, punctuated with a quick and filthy bite to Ethan’s ass, Ethan obliged readily.
“Fuck you,”- Ethan only just managed, voice coming out barely audible through his strained neck, bucking his hips further as he wondered at what point was this going to feel actually good.
Heisenberg only laughed in return – but maybe that point was coming sooner than Ethan anticipated, because he began to move his fingers then, his other hand finding its way to Ethan’s leaking cock, and fuck, this was everything.
“Pretty sure it’s the other way around, precious.”
Ethan didn’t hesitate to moan at that, too, dignity long forgotten.
“That’s right. Spread those legs for me, Ethan,”- Heisenberg laughed, pressing another wet bite somewhere between his ass and thigh, -“Gonna fuck you till you can’t breathe.”
There was definitely no dignity to speak of in the position he was in, and it was beginning to feel way too damn good to even bother. In fact, it was beginning to feel like not enough.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck, c’mon, fuck me-”- He whined loudly, breathily, the end of each phrase cut off with the thrust of fingers, hanging his head low as his hips were now fucking right into Heisenberg’s hand.
“Yeah- Yeah, that’s better,”- Heisenberg muttered, sounding not quite there himself, and Ethan desperately wanted to see his face. Taste his mouth. Touch his skin.
He bit down on his lip and thought he could taste blood.
“You’re so good, Ethan. So fucking good.”
He was emptied out almost painfully, his insides and outsides pulsating wildly, and his dick ached, but fuck, no way in hell was he coming without having Heisenberg inside him. And just as he turned around to see what the fuck was taking him so long, his eyes landed on Heisenberg’s. His pants were finally, finally off, his cock was out, and he was shamelessly jacking himself once again, lube shining on his fist as he stared at Ethan, mouth hanging open.
“Thought you were going to fuck me long and hard,”- Ethan heard himself saying, breath slowly getting there, anticipation making his knees tremble. He didn’t recognize himself. Had no idea what was happening to him. Only knew he needed to get off, and fuck, he needed it now, -“Are you going to make me cum or what?”
Heisenberg only laughed again.
“Are you always this demanding?”
And Ethan couldn’t help his own smile.
“What can I say. I’m special.”
“That you are, Ethan. That you are.”
Ethan turned back at that, unable to sustain eye contact any longer, thought about biting the pillow and decided against it. Something inside of him was getting ready to burst and he wasn’t sure it was just the arousal speaking, and he couldn’t handle any of that right now. He just wanted to get fucked.
He needed to get fucked.
And so when he felt Heisenberg finally grab him by the hips, he groaned in anticipation.
“Ready?”- He heard a voice ask him, and before he could even so much as think about replying, there was a definite pressure against his ass, and it was almost insulting how fantastic the burn felt inside his guts.
Heisenberg didn’t say anything else, only moaned high and needy, and as he felt him draw back his hips again, Ethan felt himself being tugged back by his shirt, back arching. There was a sudden smell of cigar and gasoline and rust and a hot tongue running up the back of his neck. Ethan cried out, stretching his arms out in front of him and feeling one of Heisenberg’s hands come up and grip at his wrists, pinning him in place yet again, sore skin pulsating wildly against the iron hold.
“Fuck- Never been fucked like this,”- He gasped into the sweat-stained bed sheets, tongue running on its own, lips trembling, -“Feels good. So fucking good.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you- You feel fucking amazing, Ethan,”- Heisenberg breathed into his ear, moaned as he went in deeper, and deeper yet, and that was the moment where Ethan definitely felt him hit something inside his guts, and his knees all but gave out from underneath him.
“I could fuck you all night.”
Then do it, he thought, realizing that he would gladly let him if only Heisenberg would keep hitting that fucking spot, because fuck.
“Fuck- Harder, harder- Please.”
Ethan bucked his hips once, twice, falling into rhythm, realizing that before he even knew it he was fucking as much down into the mattress as he was up into the other’s dick, overstimulation hitting him like a pile of bricks and suddenly he was so much closer than he wanted to be. Heisenberg’s hair tickled his cheeks, and when he turned his face, he received a sloppy, lopsided kiss that was every bit as messy as the rest of this experience. Ethan drooled on the pillow as he turned back, bit into it after all as he felt himself nearing the edge, and as though sensing his thoughts, Heisenberg’s hand moved from his hip to his cock to give it the much needed friction.
“You look fantastic like this, Ethan,”- He heard a breathy voice in his ear, felt his eyes roll back in his head as he gasped and groaned, -“I’m going to make you feel so good. So good.”
“I’m-“- He wanted to say and couldn’t, and Heisenberg picked up his pace without question.
“Cum for me, Ethan,”- He gasped against his earlobe, nipping at it in between, something frantic about his movements, -“I want to watch you cum. I want you- I want you-“
Ethan couldn’t hear the rest, didn’t know if there even was a rest. He was coming as though on fucking command, his body in spasms, eyes rolling back in their orbits. He couldn’t move, could barely breathe, and Heisenberg was still fucking into him, still pumping his dick through the orgasm, and fuck, this was the hardest Ethan’s come in all his goddamn life.
He could swear his vision went blank for a good moment there – but that could also have been because he stuffed his face into the pillow. And he only realized that this was the case when his body loudly demanded oxygen – and Ethan wriggled out of the grasp on his wrists to rise up on his elbows and take a deep breath.
Heisenberg slowed his movements, the roll of his hips almost in sync with Ethan’s heartbeat. His vision settled.
It was disgusting.
He felt disgusting.
Spent and tired and wasted and already so full of acidic regret it was beginning to eat him alive.
“You’re so fucking hot when you cum,”- Heisenberg whispered into his ear, breathless. Ethan inhaled sharply.
And so he grit his teeth and swallowed down the repulsive sticky feeling, shifting slowly, certainly. He heard Heisenberg groan, and he knew wanted to see. For how perfectly filthy he was feeling then, he still wanted to fucking see.
“Pull out,”- He demanded when turning around didn’t quite work and he felt the other man still, -“Karl. Come on now, trust me. I won’t leave you hanging.”
He surprised even himself with how earnest he was being there. And then, for emphasis and own personal amusement, he added, -“We’re partners, right?”
Because who didn’t love some good irony.
He had no idea what Heisenberg was thinking, of course, couldn’t claim to - but he wanted to believe that something like this would work. That he knew him well enough by now for this to work.
And it did.
With much hesitation and huffing, Heisenberg did pull out, leaving Ethan throbbing and empty and weirdly cold. And Ethan grit his teeth as he forced his shaky body to work again, at least enough to turn around. Enough to push the panting, confused, and perfectly compliant Heisenberg onto his back and climb on top.
“Let me take care of you now.”
Ethan tried not to think that he looked good lying like that, his sweaty hair spread out on the bed sheets, his eyes somehow both the color of orange rust and clear crystals at the same time, blown out, unfocused yet watching his every move. He really did try not to think about how enjoyable it was to kiss that mouth with that scar, to explore every other scar littering that frustratingly handsome face with his tongue, to hear the soft moans and know he was causing them – but dammit, without arousal clouding his every move, it was too damn difficult. And so he kissed that mouth again and again and again, licked at that scar, at every other scar, if only because he could.
For now, he could.
But then Heisenberg’s hands were moving back to his cock, and Ethan couldn’t have that. He was a man of his word if nothing else, dammit. And now, it was time for payback.
“You going to jerk off while I’m right here? Really?”
It was his turn to grab the other man’s wrists, force them above his head with minimal resistance (and he suspected resistance would be completely fatal in this case anyway), and slowly wrap his own fingers around the swollen cock, drop the remainder of lube on it and spread it through slowly. Heisenberg shuddered, releasing a soundless chuckle as he looked up at the ceiling, visibly trying to relax into the touch.
“You’re going to choose now to learn to take it slow, huh?”- He rasped, breath slowly picking back up again with every stroke Ethan gave him, and Ethan drank it all in like he was watching the most fascinating performance of his life.
“I’m a hands-on learner,”- He quipped back easily, swirling the head with his thumb and forefinger just because he could, and watched Heisenberg quiver.
“Going to fucking kill me,”- Ethan heard him mutter, and he really couldn’t suppress his smile then, licking his dry lips and mentally preparing himself for what he was planning on doing next. He reached down and finally pulled off his disgusting shirt, exposing his chest to the hot air and the sound of Heisenberg groaning in approval.
“Told you I could take you on.”
“Ethan, I swear to-“
Ethan didn’t know who Heisenberg was going to swear to, because at that point he finally managed to swallow down the rest of his disgust, anxiety, and apprehension, and use gravity to lower himself back down on Heisenberg’s dick once more. And sure, it was loads more uncomfortable, painful, the second time around, but fuck if the look on the other’s face wasn’t worth it – Heisenberg swore loudly, throwing his head back as he moaned and his hands immediately shot up to dig into Ethan’s hips and hold him as though his life depended on it.
“You’re goddamn insane,”- He half-whispered, half-laughed out, expressions twitching between incredulity, arousal, and just a simple fucking smile, and it was that last part that allowed Ethan to try and buck his hips forward. Just as an experiment. Just to see what would happen.
“Nah, just special.”
And what happened was that Heisenberg growled, stomach curling in, and Ethan moved again, and again, and again, until he was riding the other’s hips, until he felt himself suddenly get half-hard again and wondered if this was a normal thing to happen right after he’d already come, and before long Heisenberg was moving his hips too and his fingers were leaving bruises on Ethan’s pale skin.
“Fucking hell, Ethan, you feel so fucking hot,”- He breathed out, nails digging in to leave soft scratches against Ethan’s ass, -“So fucking- I knew you were gonna be a good fuck, but- Fuck.”
Ethan spread his legs wider, balls against a sweat-soaked stomach, hands spread out atop the twitching chest, fingers twirling the nipples, and he watched, watched, watched as Heisenberg fell apart.
“Gonna make you cum so hard,”- He whispered seeing him bite down on his lip so hard it bled.
Most dangerous of them all, echoed in his head once again and he barked out a single laugh as he leaned in and captured his mouth in a horrible kiss that was barely reciprocated – Heisenberg was close, and his eyes were screwed shut, and he was gasping and panting and whining and Ethan wanted to consume it all until that was the only thing left between the two of them. He pried away a reluctant hand from his hip and took a couple slick fingers into his mouth, sucking and licking and pressing his tongue into the webbing in between.
“Want you to suck me like this,”- His teeth grazed against the scars there, and he groaned when he felt a trickle of saliva run down his chin, -“Want your lips around my cock. Like this. Just like this.”
With a desperate moan, Heisenberg was coming, and Ethan’s already sticky feeling grew impossibly larger as he felt himself fill up, and if he wasn’t already working his dick to come a second time, this just might have sent him over the edge and turned this whole situation unbearable. As it stood, though, he was simply sitting there, taking it all in, desperately panting and moaning himself as he fucked his hand, twirled his tongue around the press of Heisenberg’s fingers, and tried to get it over with quickly.
And Heisenberg watched him through it all, eyes half-lidded, his mouth a thin, plump line, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He slowly moved to sit up on his elbows, his soft dick still moving inside Ethan, still doing things to him.
With a messy pop he pulled his fingers out of Ethan’s mouth, used that hand to bend him in half, giving him yet another messy kiss.
Only this time, it was slow.
It was slow, and it felt different, and Ethan’s dick was twitching in his hand and it ached.
Heisenberg lifted him off with a tired grunt, Ethan desperately ignoring the sensation of everything leaking out of him, and placed him back on the mattress, back in his place. And then, he yanked Ethan’s hand off, and without so much as another word, replaced it with his mouth.
“Fuck,”- Ethan screamed, the swirl of hot wet tongue making his hips spasm frantically, fingers tugging at the long hair.
Heisenberg took his cock nearly all the way down to the base, then went back up and pressed his tongue against the slit, lapped up at the fluid coming out and removed his mouth again.
“Taste fucking amazing, Ethan,”- He stated, and Ethan had no doubt that that was true. He licked at the shaft in one slow motion, starting at the base and making his way to the head, then back down again, and Ethan heard him take a deep inhale, practically nuzzle against his balls, and he wanted to scream, -“You’re good. You’re so good. Is this what you wanted?”
“Yeah. Yeah,”- He panted, holding the other man by the base of his neck as he fucked against his lips, his cheek, his mouth, leaving streaks of white across hot skin, -“You get me so hard. So fucking hard. Make me cum. Make me cum again.”
“I will. You will cum for me again and again, Ethan. You smell amazing,”- Heisenberg told him just as well, stroking and licking and it was the absolute weirdest blowjob Ethan has ever received in his life, but he was watching Heisenberg practically worship his dick with a look that many did not bother worshipping their gods with, and he was never a fan of dirty talk, but somehow this was now making his guts explode. He watched that mouth wrap around his tip, suck at it almost gently, his breath now a confused mess of moans and curses and growls.
“Fuck. Like that. Fuck, I’m going to fucking cum all over you-“
“Do it. Whatever you want. My face, my mouth, my chest. Anything,”- Heisenberg muttered against the shaft, then took it back down his throat, swallowed hard, and Ethan practically saw stars. By the time Heisenberg pulled back, half of Ethan’s cum was dripping down his chin, onto his beard, his collarbones, his arms.
“Like that, Ethan. Let go. Let it all go.”
And Ethan hated how gently he worked him through the rest of the orgasm, how that made him feel dirtier than the first one when he was ass up and practically blinded, how staring at Heisenberg’s cum-stained face pressed into his thigh was making him feel weak and desperate and like he never wanted to move ever again.
Heisenberg was still pressing a wet hicky into his leg by the time Ethan had finished, had time to come back down from his high, had time to remember everything he’d said and everything that was said to him, had time to feel the dried up fluids covering his body, and had time to realize that this was it. That the distraction was over.
He wanted to sink into the bed and wake up a week later.
He had no idea whose bed he wanted to wake up in.
Heisenberg gave his skin another whiff as he was standing up, looked at Ethan from underneath those greatly hooded eyes and smirked, and then simply walked back across the room to the table butt-naked, cum stains across his abdomen and crotch and chest and beard.
Ethan crawled up the bed slowly, no idea what he was supposed to say now. What was supposed to happen. He was beginning to get cold. His teeth ached.
He watched a very naked Heisenberg wipe at his mouth with the back of his hand, pick up the cigar he discarded earlier, then crouch down and search around for a lighter, which he used immediately.
And then he watched a puff of white smoke cloud the already hot and mussed up room.
This time, when Heisenberg reached over and offered the cigar, Ethan didn’t refuse.
He took a long drag and smoke filled his senses, seeped into his lungs and came back out as a violent cough, everything about the taste making him think of the man in front of him, the feeling weirdly soft for as sickly as it made him feel. His backside burned and he desperately needed a shower.
He didn’t know if regret was the right term for what he was feeling then. It felt about right.
Heisenberg simply laughed, and the sound, too, was making him melt further down into the bed.
“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”- He asked settling back into bed, throwing a tattered blanket over both of them, and Ethan automatically moved aside to make space. His knees protested the new position.
He passed the cigar over, trying and failing not to move closer. The other man was still burning hot – and Ethan was so damn cold for so damn long.
He watched him take another long, slow drag, and this time instead of releasing it into the air, Heisenberg turned to look at him, blinked slowly once and then smiled and reached over.
Ethan didn’t have the time to think before opening his mouth up for the kiss, tasting the smoke and the cum and thinking it disgusting and yet reaching his tongue deeper in for more.
“Better?”- Heisenberg asked pulling back way too soon, watching as Ethan released a thinning cloud into a room that was beginning to look and feel like a fire hazard.
And Ethan took that moment to look him over. All sweaty and dirty and sullied, hair a wild mess, bite marks covering the entirety of his neck and shoulder, lips puffed out and red, that scar lost amongst the color. Eyes hooded, pupils blown out. A smile so gentle it could crack any second now.
And he looked- Karl looked- Heisenberg looked like a man. A normal, regular, content fucking person who was just happy to be there. Ethan swallowed down a lump in his throat, the smoke beginning to sting at his eyes.
He shuffled in closer, threw a leg over Heisenberg’s own. To warm up, he told himself, and Heisenberg’s expression told him he didn’t mind one bit. You’re alright, it told him. It’s okay.
“Yeah. I think I’m getting the hang of it,”- Ethan told him in a quiet voice. Didn’t know if regret was still in the room with him, or if it managed to slip out somewhere in between all the cigar smoke. He inhaled, and his lungs burned sweetly.
Heisenberg took another slow drag. Leaned back in for another kiss.
And this time, it lasted longer. The graze of lips was slow, the tongue slower yet to follow, gentle and intent on exploring, learning, mapping. And the second Ethan pulled back to release the smoke that was beginning to choke, Heisenberg was back in with another dose. Another kiss that lasted even longer.
Ethan was beginning to suspect the cigar was just an excuse.
His hand slipped over a warm thigh and squeezed. Nothing felt alien anymore.
Just slow. And sleepy.
“You should rest,”- Heisenberg told him when Ethan found himself inexplicably resting on his chest, fingers mindlessly playing with the hairs, throat weirdly tight.
“But-“
“Believe it or not, there’s still time, Ethan,”- He told him, a soft hand running up and down his arm. Ethan exhaled and tried not to think about how this looked. About how this felt. About how he felt, -“Sleep. Rest. I will wake you in the morning.”
He inhaled the smell of cigar smoke readily. Took another look around the tiny room that was the closest he felt to home in what felt like forever. Finally felt like he was no longer cold or hot.
Just warm.
“Okay. Morning it is.”
He settled back. Looked into the ceiling for a long moment, then rose up on his elbows to give Heisenberg another slow kiss – this time, in between cigar drags. Sighed into the little surprised sound he’d managed to extract. Settled back again and crawled further under the blankets.
The room was beginning to look like a dream, and for once, it wasn’t a nightmare.
He pressed his back to Heisenberg. Immediately, he felt an arm wrap around his waist. Lips pressed against his shoulder.
Ethan closed his eyes.
“And in the morning, we change everything.”
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91percentpynch · 3 years
Text
false god - kevaaron au pt 5
long time no see because i was in a writing block and that sucks but i‘m back and ready to break our hearts <33 thanks to argyro for helping me figuring out what happens here
i listened to false god by taylor swift cuz the angst??? love it!!! anygays this is from kevin‘s pov, i hope it makes sense and i hope you like it <33 stay safe, drink some water and always remember only racists, trump supporters, transphobes and homophobes skip meals!!
to check out the other parts click here
Aaron wasn‘t gone for too long when Kevin‘s phone rang
He didn‘t have the energy to pick it up, just to stare it down as if some kind of magic or his sheer will power would make it stop, let him be alone with his thoughts
But obviously that didn‘t work, it never did
The phone kept ringing, slowly driving the striker mad, slowly taking his sanity.
It would be the fifth or sixth missed call that would make him get up to answer the phone
„KEVIN HI NICKY HERE, LISTEN I TRIED TO CALL YOU FOR THE PAST HALF HOUR OR SO BUT AARON‘S IN THE HOSPITAL AND I CAN‘T GET THERE UNTIL LIKE TOMORROW AND ANDREW DOESN‘T ANSWER HIS PHONE EITHER AND HE WOULD TAKE LIKE HOURS TO GET THERE AS WELL CAN YOU PLEASE GO TO HIM SO HE DOESN‘T HAVE TO BE ALONE I DON‘T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED PLEASE, KEVIN I NEVER ASKED FOR ANYTHING FROM YOU PLEASE JUST GO AND MAKE SURE MY SON IS OKAY“
„Nicky? Hi to you too. You do realize he isn‘t my responsibility and that he broke up with me and that I don‘t really have to go there. I don‘t own him shit. He made my life miserable. He probably deserves whatever happened to him“ was what Kevin wanted to answer, was probably what he was supposed to say. But deep down he knew it was not true, that Aaron never ruined his life. Made it better, made it it bareable. Made it worth living, not just existing. Made it more than Exy and Vodka.
After a few moments of silence that felt like an enterinity Kevin settled for a simple: „Which hospital?“
„OH DIO MIO GRACIAS, MUCHAS GRACIAS. ESTÁ EN EL CHICAGO HOSPITAL“, Nicky replied in Spanish. Something the Latino only did when he was either very emotional, very drunk, very angry or all at once.
Kevin didn‘t have it in him to tell Nicky that he still did not speak Spanish, he understood the hospital and that was enough. For now.
„I‘m on my way, call you later and Nicky? He‘s going to be fine. It‘s not your fault. You‘re a great mother to them, the best I‘ve ever had the pleasure to meet. Now calm down, go to Erik and take a nap. You don‘t have to come, he‘s with us. We got this. Do you want to talk to Jeremy while I go to check up on Aaron?“
„Sí“, was all Nicky had to say. Voice thick with tears.
„JER CAN YOU TALK TO NICKY AARON‘S IN THE HOSPITAL I‘M GOING THERE“, Kevin shouted into the flat.
„Absoloutly“, Jeremy replied and took the phone from Kevin.
„Mi corazón, escúchame“, was the last thing Kevin heard as it hit him. Aaron was in the hospital. Right after Kevin refused to listen to him, right after Kevin refused to let him explain himself. It was Kevin‘s fault. If Aaron died, he would have killed him. He was basically a murderer. His breathing came out uneven, his lungs didn‘t get enough air. He knew that he needed to breathe, but breathing was hard and he was weak.
Jean noticed Kevin having a panic attack when he came to check up on him. „Day, listen to me. Breathe. In... And out... In.... And out... In... And out“
Kevin‘s breathing got better, slowly but steadily.
„It‘s my fault“, the striker whispered.
„It‘s not, Kevin. It is not your fault. If you don‘t want to go there, you don‘t have to. He is not your responsibility“
„Hypothetically if Jeremy was to break up with you and you‘re hurt and sad and blame him for your misery when it‘s more the lack of him that makes you feel that way and his sister or brother or mother or whoever would call you and hysterically asked you to go look after him cause his family is stuck on another continent and the only other person who could call refuses to take the phone cause they‘re too busy doing their boyfriend, would you not go cause he is not your responsibility anymore? Because Aaron is my Jeremy. Just like Jer saved your life and made you see that live is indeed worth living, Aaron showed me the same“
„I don‘t think I would surive Jeremy leaving me, you‘ve always been stronger than me. Should I give you a ride?“, Jean whispered.
„It‘s not a thing of strenght Jean, it‘s an addiction. It used to be alcohol that made me forget, made me feel light and free and carefree. I drank and drank until I couldn‘t live without it anymore. And then I met Aaron, I tasted him, I smelled him and he chose me. Me? What did I have to offer him? A boy broken and raised by Exy. All I can offer is Exy. Nothing more. Until he made me see that it was wrong, that I am more than that. And he might have broken my heart and yes I might still love him even though he will never feel the same but I cannot not go there. I have to. I have to be there for them, the way he was always there for me“
„Get your things, we‘re going to the hospital“, Jean replied, unable to put his emotions into words.
So Jean and Kevin left for the hospital while Jeremy tried to calm Nicky down with softly whispered Spanish words.
As they arrived at the hospital Kevin stormed in there.
„Aaron Minyard“, was all he was able to say. Too many memories were connected with hospitals. Too many memories he would much rather just forget.
„Name?“, the nurse said in a bored tone.
Kevin just put a finger on his cheek.
„Kevin Day? I can‘t let you to him, only family and spouses“
„What if I sign something, we take a nice selfie and you tell me where he is. You see I‘m basically family. I‘m the closest and the others can‘t be here until at least tomorrow evening and we don‘t want the poor guy to be all alone and confused, do we?“, Kevin said with his press smile and shining eyes. He knew the charme he had on females. It was just not useful for him as he never really was into that. He never was into anyone but Aaron, to be fair.
„I could lose my job for that“, the nurse replied, her eyes wandering from his eyes to his lips and up again.
„I‘m sure I can offer you something that will you let me to go see him“, Kevin replied with a wink, being disgusted by himself that he even thought about all the possiblities this woman could ask him to do with her.
„Room 21, second floor, station E. You clearly care about him, if anyone asks it wasn‘t me“, she smiled at him. „Besides I always liked Moreau more, I‘m sure we can think of something to do while you are with the boy“
„Sorry“, Kevin whispered to Jean as he ran down the aisle trying to figure out where Aaron was.
The hostpital was a mess of busy nurses and angry doctors, but nothing could stop a determinded Kevin Day. No one. Not even Andrew Minyard.
After what felt like forever he made it to the room, kicked the door open and walked with three long strides to Aaron.
„You fucking idiot, what have you done?“, he whisper-shouted, holding back tears while taking in Aaron‘s sorry state.
„I don‘t need your fucking pity“, Aaron replied, exhausted.
„Did you tell them you can‘t have morphine? Because you might relapse, i mean you already did but we don‘t want it to get worse. And this is not pity, this is Nicky yelling at me in Spanish cause you‘re in the hospital and he‘s in Germany and I‘m the closest to you and he does not want his son to be alone“
„Andrew didn‘t care to come, did he?“, Aaron whispered into his pillow.
„Andrew does care about you he‘s just shit at showing it, that fucking asshole“, Kevin replied softly. „C‘mon what have you done Minyard?“
„Car accident, not that it‘s any of your fucking business“
„How are you?“
„Fucking great, I should let a truck drive into me more often. Very freeing. Very calming“, Aaron said sarcastically, avoiding Kevin‘s eyes.
„A truck. Drove into you?“, shock made Kevin‘s Irish accent stronger.
„Not that you would care“, Aaron‘s voice was barely more than a whisper as he turned around, back to Kevin.
„Aaron first of all I can see you naked ass and not that I wouldn‘t mind the view and I‘ve seen it often enough but the nurses don‘t have to see that too. And secondly of course I care. I always did. Always will“
Blushing Aaron turned back towards Kevin.
„Why wouldn‘t you listen to me if you care so much? You‘re exactly like like Andrew, you guys only ever care when I‘m about to die or do something that doesn‘t sit right with you. Never about me as a person. The conecept about me maybe, but me? Me as a person? No one cares about that“
„You are Aaron Minyard. Born on the 4th of November, 8:31:45 am. You grew up in California in the house next to Nicky. Nicky and you were always close and you didn‘t have many friends because of your mom. Your mom might have abused her and I might hate her for that but you still love her and I get that because on some fucked up level I still care about Riko. You are allergic to cats, peanuts and house dust. You have a freckle right on your right hip, under your navel, from under your left eye over to the nose to the corner of your right eye. You like it when you are hold when you can‘t sleep but you hate showing affection in public. You were 13 when you started exy, because it gave you an escape, but you had to stop because the bruises from your mother‘s beating got to obvious. So you started getting into medicine. You borrowed every single book on medicine you could find and read it at night, always hidden from your mom. You had to have straight As or the beatings would be worse. Your mom did go out to have ice cream with you when it was especially bad. That‘s why you hate ice cream so much, especially vanillia because it was her favourite. Your secret hobby is skating. You feel free when you do it. You want to live at the coast, but not close to Cali, never back to Cali. You want Andrew to notice you and you hate how easily he let Neil in because obviously deserve it more and I get that. You tried drugs to escape, to see what was the appeal. Your uncle never helped you but he brainwashed you into believing he did. You grew up very religous and in an extraordinary homophobic household, you watched your cousin and only friend getting shipped away because he was different, not right, so you confinced yourself you were different. Heterosexual. When in reality you knew since you were 15 that you preferred guys. You liked girls as well. At least you thought but it‘s so much more complicated. Actually it isn‘t. You‘re asexual, you do however like the feeling of sex. You think the process is disgusting, but you still like the feeling. It has to be the right person though. It doesn‘t matter wether it‘s a boy or a girl or something else entierly, all that matters are the feelings the person makes you feel. It took you years to accept that you are not wrong, that you wouldn‘t have to go away like Nicky. You apologized to Nicky. You thought you had to be against their relationships, because that‘s what they made you believe. Old habits die hard. But you got over it and I am very proud of you. You sleep with a teddybear or with another person that cuddles you because the thought of being alone scares the living crap out of you. Your favourite flowers are sunflowers because yellow is a happy color. You hate sweets, you prefer salty snacks. You prefer coffee black, like your sould. You use sarcasm and humor as your coping mechanism. You stole my history books because you love history as well. You also love art but you don‘t think you are good enought to become an artist. You would love to work at Jean‘s studio but you are afraid to ask. You and Jean used to be friends but you cut him off and isolated yourself because your anxities and insecurities took over you again. Sometimes you have depressive episodes, in these you crave drugs more than normally. You want to stop it, you really do but somehow your brain tries to tell you you need it. You would love to have five dogs. An Irish Red Setter, an Irish Wolfhound, a poodle a big one though, a labrador and a golden retriever. You also want to adopt at least two kids. You don‘t want any child to go through what you had to go through or Andrew. So don‘t you dare tell me I never cared for you. Because I do. I listen when you tell me things. I remember every single time you came to me, black out drunk, crying and telling me you‘re worthless. Because every single time I wanted to tell you you aren‘t. You are a wonderful human being and I don‘t understand why I wasn‘t enough for you to stay but I will not let you tell me I never cared about you. Because that‘s some fucking bullshit“
Kevin didn‘t even notice the tears running down his cheeks. It‘s been a while since he was that emotional, since he let his walls down and dared to show emotions.
„You really did listen“, was all Aaron had to say.
„Why wasn‘t I enough for you?“, Kevin replied, voice thick of tears, Irish accent strong.
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miss-choco-chips · 4 years
Text
Robin and Red X
Just a silly thing I wrote for @animemangasoul. Hopefully this makes you laugh a bit, hon! No edit whatsoever.
The titans were having a difficult time reconciling their easy going, funny, sure of himself leader with the hot mess in front of them.
“Uhh…”Wally, the bravest of them all, places a careful hand on his shoulder. “Maybe we should… call your dad?”
Robin turns to look at him so fast it almost looks like his neck broke. Beast boy screams, turns into a rabbit and jumps into Raven’s arms, because the sound that came from Rob’s mouth wasn’t human at all.
“If any of you call Batman, I’ll personally ensure living hell for everyone in the Team. This is MY case!”
Wally hastily retreats, hands up in a surrender gesture. 
“Okay, okay! I’m just saying, chill. This Red X dude has been giving us all too much trouble, maybe Bats could point us in the right direction or…”
They think Dick said ‘no’, but it was more of a demonic screeching.
“But we’ll respect your wishes! Because you are our friend!”, and you scare us shitless, he added in his mind. 
Roy signaled at Wally, the moment Dick turned his back to them again. Something like ‘are we calling the Bat anyway?’, to which Wally replied ‘I don’t have a death wish, fuck no’.
They never really get around to capture Red X, but no one dares to bring up asking Batman for help again. The mysterious anti hero keeps kicking all their asses each and every time they face him, always having a countermeasure for their specific powers or abilities, but honestly? He’s not as scary as an unhinged Dick could be, so they’d rather fight him than wait for bathed breath for Dick’s revenge if they went behind his back to solve the case with his old mentor.
-.-.-.-.-.-
Jason hasn’t inherited the Robin cape from his predecessor. Dick wasn’t happy, seeing a new kid using his suit without permission, when he himself apparently hadn’t been ready to let it go.
But Jason wanted to be Robin. Needed it. All the good he could do… the people like him he could help… This was his chance of doing right. Of proving the world (proving himself) he was not like his father, a complete and utter trash that belonged in the dumpster that was Arkham. That he, a street rat, could be a hero.
So he fought for his right to the mask, even if he sometimes felt the itch to go wild and do his own thing. Because honestly, being Robin was awesome, but having Batman constantly breathing down his neck? Yeah, not so much.
So when Dick, now Nightwing, approached him one afternoon while Bruce was out on business, he was both weary and desperate for some distraction.
Which was exactly what the dude provided.
“What I’m going to show you”, Dick starts, slowly, after he’s checked there are no ears on them, ”it’s Robin’s secret. The only one we manage to keep from Batman. What our ancestors saved for us, our legacy.”
“We are the only two Robins, dipshit.”
“Shut up this is a formal process. Do you wanna know or not?”
“Just… tone down the roleplaying.”
“Fuck off, that’s the best part.”
Curiosity trumping annoyance, he watches as Dick places a briefcase in the coffee table where he was doing his math homework.
“This right here, it’s all the information, anything you ought to know about our mantle’s most important endgame. This is Robin’s never-ending mission. Our Moby dick. Red X.”
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
When Jason approached Tim with the briefcase, Tim’s first thought was ‘he’s going to bribe me’- an automatic response after working on Wayne Enterprises for months now. 
The second was ‘he has someone’s head there hasn’t he. Am I going to be an accomplice? What crime was this, and can I hide it from Bruce?’.
The third and final ‘maybe I should ask him first’.
His -thankfully sane now- predecessor reached the little nook where Tim had tucked himself, in hopes of staying hidden from Damian long enough to enjoy the mannor’s wifi without having to stand his bitching. He sits cross legged in front of him.
“So. Give me all you have on Red X.”
This was… unexpected, but not unprecedented. The family tends to think of him as a convenient alternative to some criminal wikipedia sometimes. 
Obediently (because then he’ll get to go back to his research sooner), he rattles out what little he could scrounge on the antihero. It was, admittedly, not much; any younger hero had not heard of Red X, as he’d been dormant for some years now, and the older ones were forbidden to talk about him by Dick himself. The first Robin had claimed ownership of the antihero, and anyone caught working on his case without his permission would find themself with their life turned around  in the most inconvenient of ways before they could even finish burying the evidence. With Bruce taking a neutral stand on the matter, merely respecting his son’s wishes, no one was willing to risk the fury of someone with Batman’s resources and knowledge.
Except, apparently, Jason, because he was opening the briefcase and turning it in his direction.
“Let me tell you a lil story, that Dickie shared with me some years ago. I wasn’t a good predecessor for a long time ‘ere, Timmers, and I wanna make it right by properly passing this on. The true legacy of Robin; the mystery of Red X.”
“I… I’m not Robin any longer”, he blurted out, though his fingers twitched to touch the contents of the briefcase, to go through all that juicy, sweet treasure.
“Doesn’t matter. Dickie gave Robin without your permission, but this… this only I can pass on, just as you can only pass it to the brat when yer ready. No one can take this away, or Dickie loses the claim he has on Red X.”
Jason opens the briefacase all the way, then.
Tim drops his coffee.
Suddenly, there was something way more important. As unholy as it sounded.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
When Damian was invited by Drake to their own private ‘bonding night’, he was weary but hopeful. He’d been trying to fix their bond for some time now, so he could not ruin this chance, as suspicious as it sounded.
So they watched a movie, ate vegetarian pizza (Damian felt emotions when he realized Tim knew, paid attention) and complained about their older siblings and their role as Robin.
“It’s just… a heavy burden”, he admits. If someone can understand his feelings, it’d be Timothy after all.
“I get you. There’s also the matter of Dick’s and Bruce’s expectations on you.”
“I have to be perfect for them, all the time. The smallest mistake and… I could lose my family. But I feel so trapped…”
Tim’s hand found his and squeezed it. When Damian looked up, the older teen had a compassive look on his eyes.
“I might have the solution for that.”
As if he had planned this (perhaps he had), Tim retrieved a briefcase from under the couch they were occupying.
“Dick gave this to Jason, and he to me. Now, I’m passing this on to you.”
Damian tilted his head, a bit confused.
“I.. am already Robin.”
Tim smiled and pushed the case closer to him.
“This is even better. The freedom to the bindings that come with the suit. Open it.”
Curious, still weary but unwilling to lose any ground he had gained with his brother, he obeyed.
And promplty dropped it to the ground.
“What is this?!!”
“This”, Tim smiles, cheshire-cat-like, “is the Red X costume, and all his toys. Including, but not limited to, a perfect holographic devise, to use to make people think you are fighting Red X, to clean your name should anyone suspect the truth. I’ve been using it all this last few months, to…”
“Ruin my life?!”, he yells, because it’s not a secret Red X had came back from dormancy to utterly fuck with Robin, taunting him and beating his ass at every turn. It had been doubly frustrating, because everyone refused to speak about the antihero to him, so he had no information on the man to hunt him down properly.
“Chill. I just.. needed to vent a bit. And this suit helped me, which is the entire purpose of Red X.”
“I...don’t understand.”
Tim placed the briefcase in the coffee table and inched closer to Damian.
“Dick created the alias back in the day, when the pressure of being a perfect Robin became too much and he just… wanted to fuck shit up. Unwind a bit. He couldn't do it as himself and lose all the respect from the other heroes he had managed to amass, so he needed a scapegoat for it.”
Damian felt a tug of interest in his gut. He tried to surreptitiously look at the briefcase. 
“Being Robin is tiresome. It’s too heavy a burden. Always perfect partner, always a goodie two shoes… Red X allows you to go wild, be gay-do crime sort of thing, without meddling from any other hero in the community. Burn a warehouse. Use the rocket launcher B has under lock and key. Fuck whoever dumb crimefighter  you dislike the most up. Stir shit whenever you feel life’s been too quiet. Let go and have fun... Damian, aren’t you tired of being nice? Don’t you just want to go ape shit?”
His fingers were digging into the suit before his older brother could even finish talking.
187 notes · View notes
shih-coulda-had-it · 4 years
Text
trained by the best
Summary: Gran Torino is hired by the Hero Public Safety Commission to train Keigo Takami, boy wonder. Canon!AU. [Illustration included.]
.
.
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“Torino-san?”
He blinked once, then again, like he could rid himself of this prim and proper lady standing at his doorstep. Sorahiko scrubbed his face with a rough hand and felt the stubble prickle his palm. So much for self-care. He eyed her with wariness. No one in a blazer had charitable intentions. Leaning into the old-timer’s growl, Sorahiko parried with, “Who needs him?”
She wasn’t having his shit. “The Hero Public Safety Commission.”
His hackles rose. “I don’t do that kind of work.”
“You misunderstand our initiative,” she said coldly, “but that is of no matter. Please welcome me in.”
Sorahiko bared his teeth in a semblance of a grin. “Welcome to my home,” he answered, and stepped aside. “Get to the point, before I have to offer you snacks and drinks.”
The lady gave his ramshackle apartment a disparaging onceover, and conceded. She untucked a manila folder from under her arm, and cleared her throat. “Torino Sorahiko. Pro Hero, Gran Torino. You were part of a government operation to take in All for One with your partner—”
“Get to the point,” he repeated.
She glared. “You’re one of the fastest pro heroes in Japan, and yet you’ve never been noticed by the public record. You once taught at U.A., but quit after a year. If it wasn’t for a footnote on the All for One operation, we wouldn’t even be aware of your skills.”
He maintained his poker face, but inwardly cursed at whoever kept the file. Sorahiko had stayed under the radar for a reason. Mostly because he hated the media, and the task of cultivating a reputation. He’d left that nonsense to Nana, who hadn’t actually liked it any better.
“I like my quiet life,” Sorahiko pronounced, folding his arms together. “You haven’t gotten to your point.”
“We’re looking to hire a combat tutor,” she grinded out. “Someone skilled in fighting at incredible speeds, and who wouldn’t be averse to being missing from the public eye. That’s you.”
“No one likes how I teach.”
“Statistics show that the one year you taught at U.A., the graduating students had more success in navigating their first tests in battle. The school attributes this to you.” The lady closed the file. “That’s what we’re asking of you. One year. More, if your teaching bears productive results.”
Sorahiko suspected some trickery. “Who would I be teaching? A class?”
“One boy,” she said, and it was like hearing Nana’s last words to him all over again. Sorahiko felt the ports on his legs hiss, and reflexively inhaled. “He’s quite young, but brimming with potential. Saved a family from a car crash at the age of six.”
“... And how old is he now?”
The lady lifted her chin. “Ten.”
“That’s too young.” It was an instinctive objection of sorts, born out of observing Toshinori’s terrible battle instincts and having to beat some sense into his class before they graduated. Sorahiko didn’t teach kindly. The memories of his spars with Toshinori sometimes riddled him with guilt; the idea of training a ten year old child the same way would probably cause Nana to rise from the grave and murder him. A different thought occurred to him. “Where’s his family?”
Not dead, he willed.
“They’re being handsomely compensated,” she answered. “He came from a low-income family, and needed attention he could not get otherwise.” The lady cocked her head. “And now, he needs training in combat that we cannot adequately provide without your help.”
“I can say no.”
“And we would find a second-best option.” He could feel his face twitch. “The boy will be trained. All that remains to be decided is by whom, and how well.”
“Might,” Sorahiko said with as much venom as was polite, “I have the name of the boy, and the location where we’ll be training?”
Her smile was cold too. Victory to the government offshoot. “You will refer to me as Miura. Your charge is Keigo Takami. He’ll be operating under the name of Hawks.” With a quick, graceful motion, she offered the folder; Sorahiko took it. “The training facilities are there. Report to the first one by this Monday, 0800 hours. Be prepared to give a verbal assessment of his skills.”
//
“Keigo-kun,” said Miura with a degree of warmth Sorahiko had previously not associated with her. “This is your new tutor. Call him Torino-sensei, okay?”
“Okay,” the kid replied quietly. His round face was entirely too serious for ten years old, and it made Sorahiko want to back out of the job. The Commission was grooming the kid to be a pro hero.
He’d be a striking figure. There was a charm to the kid’s scarlet red wings, the feathery quality of his dirty-blond hair, the black markings highlighting his avian nature. Keigo Takami met Sorahiko’s gaze with the most unimpressed expression a child had ever leveled in his direction.
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Looks like they’ve done a number on you, kid, Sorahiko thought. Aloud, he said, “I hear you can move.”
Miura withdrew silently; the door hissed shut behind her. There was a viewing deck for this off-white cushioned room, but Sorahiko chose not to glance at it, preferring to see whether or not he could tease some life back into the kid’s deadened gaze.
“I can.”
“You warmed up?”
“I have.”
Geez. Like pulling teeth. Sorahiko idly tugged at his gloves. “Alright then. We’re gonna play a game of tag.” The kid’s eyes brightened, and his posture actually straightened even further with interest. “I’ll be it for three minutes. Every tap I get on you is a lap around the building perimeter. Ready?”
Tiny scarlet wings flared out in preparation. “Ready,” the kid echoed, and Sorahiko pulled out his stopwatch and showily held it up. At the click, Sorahiko jetted straight up to the ceiling and let the timer fall; Takami startled backwards at the rush of expelled air, and made eye contact just as Sorahiko kicked off and headed straight for him.
He kept it playful. The kid was fast, true, but he hadn’t yet learned to operate in a three-dimensional environment. Nana had dragged him, however reluctantly, through numerous games of Quirk tag. Takami was still young, and isolated to boot.
“Keep moving,” he advised on a pass, and Takami whirled around, too late to catch sight of him. He was caught up in the spin, so much so that Sorahiko was able to ricochet and pass by again to flick him on the shoulder.
At the end of three minutes, Takami was leaning on his knees and gasping for breath. Sorahiko… wasn’t unimpressed. He had expected a lot worse; if Toshinori and his class were evidence, the notion of constant movement wasn’t a universally-ingrained instinct. That Takami had eventually started darting and zigzagging in a desperate maneuver to avoid Sorahiko’s path spoke well of his battle instincts; Toshinori’s unfortunate go-to strategy of standing rooted to the ground had taken a number of beatings to unlearn.
“Ten taps,” said Sorahiko mildly, crouching down to meet Takami’s eyes. There was much more intrigue than earlier; respect had been earned, and not even grudgingly. “You did better than expected, kid.”
Takami’s eyes fairly sparkled. “I did?” he asked, almost shy.
“Yeah. You’ve already got the idea that moving should be your first strategy.” Sorahiko gestured at the wings, now marshaled back into a neat fold. “Give it a few years till your growth spurt, and you’ll be faster than me. Till then...” He tapped the kid’s nose. Kid went cross-eyed. “That’s eleven. If you use your wings, up it to fifteen.”
Takami vibrated in place. “Torino-sensei!” he complained, and looked surprised that he could whine.
Sorahiko finally glanced up at the viewing deck. A group of suits gazed imposingly down; the door hissed open. He creaked back up, and nodded at the kid. “Bully someone to chaperone you. Say I told you the laps are homework,” he advised, and Sorahiko turned to see Miura’s triumphant expression. “Miura-san.”
“Torino-san,” she returned. “Cutting your tutoring session short?”
“Sparring for an hour isn’t an option for now—” Sorahiko stopped, feeling something tug at his cape. He looked back and barely managed to see the tiny hand release the yellow fabric, the flash of guilt and self-reproach. “... A short intermission. However long our conversation lasts. Then I’ll do another round with him.”
“Very good,” Miura said patronizingly. “Keigo-kun—”
“I need a watcher,” the kid piped up, and Sorahiko was treated to the vindictive pleasure of seeing Miura get caught off-guard. “I have homework, and I want to finish it before the second round.”
“Homework?”
“Running eleven laps around the building,” he recited. “Or flying fifteen.”
“Running laps. How nice,” she said, and nice sounded awfully like quaint. Sorahiko wasn’t looking forward to the debriefing. It wouldn’t just be a performance review of a ten year old’s skills; it’d be the Commission deciding whether or not he was worth hiring for the year, and the years after. Sorahiko was already constructing a rough syllabus in his head, which was… a lot more than what his students had gotten.
But with them, it had been coming into the year with a plan, and having that plan be utterly annihilated upon first meeting. Combat training had always been self-taught. Experience trumped formal learning, and knowing the ins and outs of your Quirk would always give you an edge over your opponent.
Generalizing had been a huge issue in U.A. He didn’t have the time to personally drag a student through the effort of pushing their Quirk to the limit, and had instead decided the standard curriculum was bullshit, and pitted each class against him.
Twenty-four hours to strategize with each other. Three minutes to beat him. No one left without accumulating a whole collection of bruises, scrapes, and red paint marks. U.A. had eventually asked him to tone down whatever he was doing to wreck the gym facilities.
“Let’s debrief,” Sorahiko prompted, and Miura smiled.
“Sasagawa-san will be here to chaperone you, Keigo-kun,” she told the kid, and switched tones with Sorahiko. “Follow me.”
He followed.
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93 notes · View notes
Text
December Dates
Seventeen Summary: In the spirit of Christmas, boyfriend!svt is here to take you on a date. Word Count: 3k+ Warnings: Fluff, crackkkkkk, v many typos,etc.
R E Q U E S T
my friend: seventeen + cute
A/N: HO HO HO MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU HOS (jk) HAHAHAHAHAHHA. Also ashdiepl because im writing on a tab, i couldnt add any gifs so aksjemksksmsksksmskskdk alsO im so sorry i dont remember if the request is platonic or nah but kaksksksk this is what u get soz
-----
Alright
So no gifs
Imma just do a header real quick so u know wassap
S. Coups
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Das better
hi header
I might delete u later if i get on a pc
But firsT seuNgcheEolL
*deep breath*
Ho u lucky enough to breath the same air he does
N now u are on aa date with him
WoWw
So bf!seungcheol is a cute lil snowflake
Which means he'll buy u an ugly ass Christmas sweater and matching gloves
THAT MATCHES THE ONES HE BOUGHT FOR HIMSELF OFC
then yall go out and play in the powdery snow outside
ImGine seungcheol grabbing yOuR hand 
cebAuse u a dumb loser that slips on nothing
Also warmth
pulling your scarf up a bit because he can tell you're getting cold
Then like a gentleman
will pUSH U INTO THE SNOW
AND START A FRICKIN SNOW WAR
HE'll hit ur dumb face he dont care
He'll maKe u wish u Stayed damn home
Rapid fire frikin snow granades man
Course iz all a bita fun
Then he'll let u win
Cause he does care Bout ur dumb Fce
Also he soft for u gross
Then once that's done he'll start laughing
Not because of post-snow ball fight adrenaline
But because he thinks himself so funny
When he busts a lung screaming "dO Ya wana biLd aSNOEMAN!!!!!"
AND THEN U decline and leave him in the snow
"YAAAAA WE HAVE TO BUILD A SNOWMAN THOUGH!" he'll laugh
U literally wana leave him and his annoying ass
U stomp away
He laughs and goes after u
His hot breath is visible 
and hits your ear when he comes up and wraps his arms around you from behind
U be like, "listen stupid, u corny af, lets break up"
Seungcheol would pout and kiss ur cheek, "nah, u still owe me hot choco. Break up with me after paying me back."
"Ew, why would i pay u back tho"
"Uh cause if you don't imma do thisss," then he proceeds to shove u into the snow again
"CHOI. SEUNG. CHEEOOOLLLLLLLLLLALAKAKAOKS!"
Ok well i have to cut this here first cos there are 12 boys left
Oh Hi hello u here back to ur regular programme
Jeonghan
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Yiz
Unlike cheol
Dis ho not about to get cold 4 u uhm
Leave the cold for someone else
But get warm together
I mean
Wink wINKkkkk
Jk gtfo
This is a wholesome headcanon
Git warm he would gladly
So u know what dat means
CUddlEs
Imagine cuddling jeonghan
BoIii
It's da holidays
Which mean he bout to get dat $$$leep
Of course u dont mind that ur just sleeping in
Gurl if ya do
Let me stress out
If you mind sleeping in and cuddling with yoon jeong han
GUrL
Wathu doin????
AnYWAY
ITz u and him right
Ur in bed reading the novel he got u beforehand right
Look at u looking cute in knit sweater and glasses
EVEN IF U DONT NEED THEM THERE ARE GLZSSES
IM TRYING TO MAKE A SCENE HERE WORK WITH ME
it could be jeonghan's ur using it as a headband shhhh
So like ur sitting down
N beside u its jeonhan v slightly snoring
Right right right
Then ur like "man i want something to eat cause i've been sitting here reading all day"
But also ur always hungry
Cause who isnt tho lol
ANYWAY UR ABOUT TO STZND UP
but jeonghan like a needy ho is like noooooooooooodontgo
N ur like
aww wat a needy ho
"Jeonghan im just gonna get something to eat"
"Eat laterrr, i need u now"
He'll keep his eyes shut and shimmy over
Securing an arm on your  hip so u wont go
U roll ur eyes and put your book away on the cabinet next u
"Jeonghan ive literally been next to u since last night. I'm just gonna get something to eat, and 4 u 2!"
He'll flutter his eyes open only to close them and move even closer to place his head on ur lap
"I dont want toooooo"
U roll ur eyes again and shimmy out of his grip
But only to get into his arms and hide your face in his chest
"You're so needy," u note
"Says you who's tangling themselves on me"
"Touché"
Joshua
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Okay
Get this
Joshua and gingerbread houses
He probably used to build one growing up
And he has just the person in mind he wants to rekindle the tradition with
Congrats u filthy animal
So he took the liberty of getting allll u and he would need
And so much more
Im talking chocolate bars
Shipped cream
Candy canes
Busicuits
Edible glitter
Gum drops
Shrek 1 2 3 4
Is there a four
Im too lazy to google it
And omg u so special to him he loves u so much
Screw u
He wants to share the love with the carats
So he vlives it all
And at first ur shy
Like what if the joshua stans come 4 u
Ok but in this story yall had already annouce ur relationship
AND EVERYONE HAS NO CHOICE BUT TO BE COOL WITH IT FFS LET UR FAVES DATE WHOEVER THEY WANT ISTG
so
Joshua is like "noo don be shy they'll all love u"
(':
N ur like ok cos i love u sm
But not like the company sm tho *barfing noises*
So yall build a gingerbread house and do a whole ass tutorial about it
Except u dont
Cause yal are morons and could stop messing up or earing the ingredients along the way
Sorry honey ur morons i dont make the rules
"Stop eating the marshmallows!"
"U literally finished the bowl of mnms tho Joshua!"
"Uh no that was the gingerbread man,"
ANd then u all bicker like children because u are omfl
And it excalates
fooD FIGHT
U smear cream on joshuas face
He sprinkles sprinkles on ur head
U press graham crackers against either of his cheeks and ask him what he is
"A sexy graham sandwich"
"Ew no wrong answer," u reply
Can i just point out that that chocolate syrup stain is never coming off
*cough cough cough moron cough cough*
Jun
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Imma bout to yeet
Junhui is also feeling nostalic
super soft super baby
And since he's probably feeling bit homesick somewhere in there
he thinks he can remedy it with a bit of chinese home cooking!!!
And whiney needy cuddles also yay
Moving on so
Will it be good?
Damn straight
itll be fikin delish
Will you try to to help him
Of course u gotta help ur man
But like duh
u have eyes
And seeing him all focus and busy and hot
Is really distracting
So like ur as useful as a broken button to him
He doesnt mind tho
He thinks ur cute
Also lovng the attnstion
But the thing about not helping
Not really
And being distracted by a cutie pie
Is that it's basicaly a disaster ending to happen so like
he's efficiently stirring up so hot stuff right
And ur like "man jun's some hot stuff"
And then BaaaaM
U knock over the damn chopping board with the knife and everything on it
Thank goodness the thing didn't chop through your foot of anything
And jun is like "oHMYGOSH DA HELL R U OK"
"... i- im sorry i knocked over ur potatoes"
"My poTaToeS! Listen rn im glad u didnt chop ur foot off"
Jun sighs and looks at the cubes of taters scattered on the floor
You frown, feeling useless
Both of u pick up ur mess
Jun puts down the kitchen utensils in hand
u picked up the last of the potatoes
"Hey we could always wash those, it's not like the floor is mud or anything, even then , potates came from mud"
"Yeah but im sorry, i wanst really helping in the first place"
Jun smirks, "nonsense! U were feeding my ego! That's enough for me!"
You snort and jun comforts u with a tight embrace
Hoshi
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AlrighT fam
I thought of something pretty cute but pretty dumb for hoshi
He's like "imma do something super romantic for Christmas"
So he's like "wear something cute we gon do smth fun" @ u
So u do
U get a cute little red dress just for the occasion
And soonyoung his like "BRO MY GIRL SO SUPER CUTE"
And ur like a blushing mess cause he looks super excited with his big smile and cresent eyss
ahhh Hhh myHOSishiii fealzssmsmmsms
Anyway u think ur gonna go to some cute restaurant right
But hoshi brings u to the mall
To instead join the couples dancing contest
Soonyoung gets super nervouse at ur surprised reaction
He's like, "omg is this a super bad idea i thought it would be cute but like i guess not we dont have to go we could always just drop out"
You laugh and shake ur head, "no it's all good, but i mean like, we don't have a choregraphy, and im not like you who can just break it down."
Soonyoung lets out a breath and chuckles, "nah don't worry. It's not really a compation-competion, and regardless, they're going to show ius a choreo and the couple that best interprets wins a a romantic date for two, fit for a dancing king and queen"
And then u break into a big uwu
"Omg u are super romantic soonyoung"
He struts a pose and chuckles, "i mean, i try"
So you both participate in the contenst
Kinda zumba it out by folling the instructors
Soonyoung is helping you out with your form and explaining to you the steps
He gets a little competative so he doesn't really want to mess us
Up hearing you giggle when you do a s pin breaks his competative spirit
And all he really cares about is having a good time with you
Aleight
But admitedly
He was pretty annoyed when they annouced the winner
Were not the two off you
i mean you lot were the cutest it can gt
Who else could trump that
But then you both saw that the winners were 80 something yesr olds holding hand and looking at each other like the other was their world
and then soonyoung was like "okay valid"
You pout, "aww i hope we end up like that"
Soonyound and you turn to each other
He grins for ear to ear, "then lets go on a romantic date as well"
"I thought you'd never ask"
Wonwoo
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LiNda
I hope you're ready for wonwoo 
Because i sure as hell am not 
So in case youre wondering 
Youre crazy I mean youre reading this arent you 
Prolly at midnight hi fam 
Again i dont make the rules 
Well just a btw Almost every 
Christmas tradition is pagan 
Like the tree 
The wreath 
And SANTA IS SO CREEPY YALL NEED TO GET UR CHILDREN AWAY FROM HIM 
SO MAYbe ur not all that crazy 
For not wanting to continue them on 
i mean sure u can give new meaning to things 
But you wanted none of that
 Which was whyyyy you decided to DIY the decorations to your entire house 
Nnd who else are you going to do that with other than your loving bb boyfriend wonwoo 
Wonwoo doesn't mind 
He thinks its cute 
Because it is a cute date idea 
Youtube tutorials 
Pinterest ideas and paper snowflakes and all 
Yeah 
so wonwoo is there cutting up some of the paper you folded 
You're glueing some popsicle sticks 
He's water coloring some designs in 
Youre pulling on the tape dispenser 
It's all going great 
"Jagiya... i don't want to sound mean but-"
 "They're all ugly as hell. I know Wonwoo." 
Wonwoo gives an apologetic look. 
For a moment u two dont speak 
And then you both brust into laughter 
"Aww whatever, lez stick em on!" 
And do you get your badly painted slowflakes 
Your wolf drawing 
"That's a wolf?" 
"Duh what else would it be wonwoo?" 
The letters that spelled merry chrsitmas 
And the doodle cutouts of the seventeen members 
in personalized ugly sweaters 
And placed them all over the place 
You look around basking in the glory of ur craft 
Its all very colorful 
And crafty 
And looking like a child made it 
Then like an imbecile 
U break into laughter 
"It looks like a kindergartener's classroom" 
U end up roasting yourself 
Making fun of your sloppy handwork 
And wonwoo watches u 
with adoring eyes
 "I almost forgot," wonwoo speaks up and pulls out a piece of paper 
You recive it from him and break into a smile 
"Is this us?" 
Wonwoo snorts, "no its jeonghan hyung in a dress holding my hand sweetheart"
For a moment u believe him
But then he breaks out into laughter
Woozi
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Boi imma fite u
Christmas carols
Okay idek why i ended up so serious with wonwoo
But listennup
Im not about to maypke it crackier
so back to christmas carols
Dis boi is about to serande you with a christmas themed love song
So its around 8pm at night
Jihoon has is guitar
and ur just chilling right
and ur on ur phone letting him do his thing
but then from the floor he was sat on
he turns to you on the couch
And pats ur leg
"Yo i just finished my song u wann hesr"
You squeak and jump of the couch next to him
"Duh dummy!"
And he starts singing
He's talking about stars and warmth
He's spittin fire about the smell of hot choco
The  he's talking sbout how lame joshua's gingerbread house was
Next thing you know ur  crying
because omg that ginger bread houseWAS UGLY
also jihoooooooooooooon just serenaded you
Dont u just
Then jihoon catches you and panicks
"You okay? Why are you cryin?!"
"HowDARS YOU ASK ME THAT LISTEN UP U JUST SAID SOME SWEET WORDS TAKE RESPONSIBILITY!!!!!!!"
JIHOON CALms down
But u crybaby cant stop crying
and of course jihoon panicks again
So he starts singing some other Christmas song
And then u start crying about poor rudolf
And remember regina george
But then eventually you calm down
And decide to nuzzle up against jihoon who replaced his guitar with you in his arms
Then us fall asleep with him sweetly singing about the spirit of Christmas
DK
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 Liz gittit
Of course this ray of light just wants to give off energy to the world 
And since he 
And u u forgetful ass 
Forgot to go shopping for presents 
You decided to go on a dec 24th shopping trip! 
Hurrah! 
But it was too eady for u two 
Like wtf 
Gift giving Is suuch and easy task 
And shoping a day before Christmas 
pshhhhhhh 
Its a heartbeat
 "Whoever gets the best gifts gets for the best price gets to boss the other around until new year," seokmin grins 
You knit your brows deeply at his words 
And wonder what the hell he has in plan for him to think of doing something so ensnaring 
So being the smarter one in the relationship 
"Uh no??" 
Seokmin was like "ok then the other has to do whatever the other says for the entirety of Christmas" 
"???? Whyyyyy?" 
"Because its not challengeing or fun if there isn't any condition" "Ugh fine" 
So the two of you zip around looking for the best gifts you could get 
You try to stay away from the people doing their last minute shopping 
Seokmin doesnt dare go in between an old lady mouthing of another customer 
Tbh its super stressful 
wtf 
what kind of date is this 
Only morons would do this wtf 
Both of you got shoved constantly 
There wasnt really much space to move around 
And there wasnt really anything to choose from 
But hey guess what 
Seokmin found some really cool gifts 
"Daheck did u get that shirt?" 
"Isle five. There were a bunch of people grabbing some stuff and this fell to the ground and so i picked it up and thought it was pretty cool"
You on the other hand got like ok gifts 
I mean theyre not bad
 But da hell did dk get a frikin eeyore onesie idek 
It was no contest.  
Seokmin defo won 
"Yisss so i win therefor u have to make me some Christmas cookies tomorrow" 
"U ho did u really just make me suffer through that so you could ask me to make cookies 4 u???" 
"Yes but we really didn have gifts tho." 
U roll ur eyes 
Seokmin's face falls, "r... r u like mad @ me?" 
"Uhhhhhhhhhh" 
You knit your brows at him but release a smile when u see his nervous look 
"No babo. Im jusy tired, lezgo back home" 
He sighs and nods, kissing your cheeks 
"Dont worry baby, ill carry all of this back home" 
Which he does 
And when u get back 
He says he forgot something in the car
then comes bzck 
And then forcefully turns u around 
Ur about to protest
But the you realize he's putting on a silver necklace on u 
"Yahhhh seokminie, u shouldnt have. Where you even get this"
"I bought it a while back, duh" he chuckles then kisses you on the cheek 
"Merry christmas jagi" 
Mingyu  
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You are a genius for getting boyfriend like mingyu 
uh and super lucky like fu-- 
BUT TODAY 
Ur extra glad that mingyu is 10ft tall 
Because ur going to be decorating your very own tree 
Wow 
You bought he prettiest glass ornamnets
 and the sparkliest streamers 
"I have a vision," u explain 
Mingyu nods in understanding 
U and him lift the tree into the living room 
And then u start decorating the tree from the bottom up 
Its all rly chill
 You lot are chatting about whatever 
He's tellling you about ur tour n stuff 
U put on some Christmas tunes for flare 
And then u stand up from the floor and boogey with each other 
Yall shake ur butts 
and go around the tree wrapping it in tinself 
Mingyu steals one of the ornaments from u
 and u try to take it back from him like the genius u are 
Except hes holding it over his head 
N u cant for the life of u reach his hand up there 
So u step on his foot 
And punch his stomach 
And he bends down in reaction 
In pain
Soz
He was asking for it
U steal the decor back 
Then he proceeds to chase u around because aparently ur the bully 
*instert pikachu meme here* 
N then u get back towork 
Or i mean take a break 
And u eat a bunch of holiday special junk 
And then u get back to work 
"ok nows for the star" 
U hand him the star because its the entire point of his existance
getting that star up ther 
with his longass arms 
He turns to u "u dont wanna put it" 
BOI 
u suck in a breath 
"I cant frIKICN REACH IT U LIL" 
He give a face, "there are ways" 
"My go-- just put the AHHHHHHH"
AND THEN THE NEXT THING U KNOW
 Hes crouching down pulling ur legs on his shoulders 
"MINGYU PUT ME DOWN" you say, about to rip of his face 
Mostly because u have nothi to hold onto
but he stands 
with u on his shoulders
and walks to the tree 
"Put the damn thing on before u fall!!" 
Wow its ur fault again
And screaming u put the star on 
And mingyu putz u down 
"Okay that was stressful" 
U punch him in the gut again 
The8  
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Minghao is super tired 
But super looking forward to spending time with u 
So u defintely go on a date 
But its of the lazy movie watch variety
Im talking all the chesey romance movies 
Set in december 
that has like mistletoe kisses 
And snow scenes 
And also those holiday specials
 For catroons 
And non cartoons 
Even the one with arnold swartzimacallit 
You pull out the laptop 
And get on netflix 
There's popcorn on 
And hot tea 
Or whatever the hell 
Its all just very warm 
and u and minghao are wrapped together in a warm blanket 
Ur nestled in between is legs and ur super warm and cozy and im so soft bleh 
"Oh oh, u should see this part, its my fav--" 
But u stop uourself when u turn and see minghao fell asleep
 U coo and let him obvi 
taking unflattering pictures duh 
But also cute ones because 
#couplegoals 
He doesn't sleep through all the movies though 
You end up watching non christmas themed films too 
Like toy story4 
OKAY I CRIED AT THE ENDING 
PIXAR IS REALLY COMING FOR MY WIG 
"You look really cute cuddled up against me" he'll randomly blurt 
U feel ur cheeks brun at that 
but no he cant have that 
"I thought i was always cute" 
He chuckles and groans as he hugs u tightly 
U laugh at his reaction 
"Of course you're always cute" 
"Ok but the teddy bear u got me is actually cuter" 
"Nononono, the teddy is cute but uuu are cuter" 
"Were u always this gross?" 
Seungkwan 
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Okay 
before u tell me these are getting worse and worse every passing member 
i would first like to say i know 
and  that seungkwan bought u a cute dress for Christmas 
and took u to a fancy restaurant 
Ok ur welcome 
But like even if it werent fancy 
U'd still like it 
cause holy guacamole 
imagine holding seungkwans hand as u walk around
Jsut being so head over heels
and super in love with the cutie
Groooossss 
LinDA 
The feeling is mutual for him when he's around u 
so he stops mid conversations 
just to take ur pic 
Its kinda annoyig 
but kinda cute 
"Hey unknow hansol told me about-- what are u doing"
 "No go on, im just talking ur picture"
 Literally the bst hype man alive 
Will make take dozen upon dozen photos of u 
And will make u pose for aethetics 
He will go on making sure everyone knows u da hottest ho in the place 
n ur like "seungkwan stfu u embarrassssing meee" 
And then oml  
Some moron tries to hit on u 
and seungkwan sqwares up ready to hit a fool 
would he actually do it i mean 
Like 
prolly Not 
but then again he looked really mad 
So u calm him down 
and u go bzck home 
And the cuddles 
"Baby girl im sorry if i embarrassed u"
 "Nah itz chill i mean i know u have good intentions"
U smile and he takes another candid phto of u
"Broooooo!!"
 "Im donnnr. Now hows about we get rid of that dress" 
Vernon  
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okay im willing to guess hansol loves drinking hot chocolate in the winter
So he's like 
"Lets do a hot choco review" 
And buys 897 types of hot choco 
Or like ten 
wtf eight hundres pluss is too much 
So ur like okay i like hot choco 
and then he pulls out his phone and does a vlive 
"No i am not jealous of joshua hyungs vlive with his gf" 
Yall make like ten cups of hot choco 
and is chaotic 
Idek how u could get injured 
But hey 
It wasnt even the hot water invovled 
but the wrapping of the choco powder 
"Technical difficulties hansol is a big moron" 
U get him a bandaid
"Ya! I am not" 
Yall start reviewing anyway 
*insert try guys eugenes voice* 
Im rihght
 Ur wong 
Shut up 
After trying the first onw 
Ur like wow dis is good 
the second was even better 
The third one u hold
then u realized there were eight more cups 
And that u made so
much 
so u were like "omf there is too much "
then u debated whether or not calling seventeen to drink the rest 
But then hansol was like "ther isnt enough for themm"
Then ur like 
"okay whatabout making a super hotchoco" 
n vernon was like 
???? 
"THATS THE BEST IDEA UVE EVVER HAD" 
SO YALL GET A BIGASS POT 
MIX THE REST IN 
REALIZE U HAVENT RATED THE other cups
 Shrug it off 
and get a cup of the hot choco mix 
"Tastes like corn" 
"Bish dafaq" 
Dino 
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Yikes 
so 
Chan is a dumb ho 
and got himself sick at Christmas so 
nononoono thats a no to any cute date ideas 
and its just you and him staying at home 
U personally dont mind 
but hes like "awww but i had so many ideas"
 but obvi U cant risk him getting any sicker than he already is 
So you stay home and take care of him 
and all he can do is complain about everything 
about the cold 
his runny nose 
The lack of taste of the food
 His head ache 
The fact his bed is hot 
And that fact that u have to take care of him 
And treat him like a baby 
"I am not a baby" 
"Listen up, u are always gonna be my baby" 
"Not u toooooo najsjsjjs" 
You make him some hot cocoa 
And hes like "im not drinking that if u call me baby again" 
"Babybabybabybabybaby" 
Ugghgg "If you keep doing that im not going to give u the gift i gotchu" 
"Well das on u" 
And then u end up going ona glaring contest 
Chan ends up giving it to u anyway 
"i hope u choke on it" he grumbles with insencerity 
U coo when u see that its a handwritten letter 
And then u end up crying because hes super soft
N ur super soft
And gahhh u love him so much
 Chan pats ur back because he doesnt want to get u sick if he hugs u  
U sniffle and wipe ur eyes 
"Who's the baby now, cry baby" 
You snarl and pinch his side 
And now i say
This was probably hecking bzd but i hope u enjoyed 
merry CHRISTMAS 
ITS MY FABORITE HOLiDAY 
TAKE CARE Of urselves mwaah
Support me on ko-fi
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startaryat · 5 years
Text
I posted this recently to a Facebook discussion that exploded under one of my comments to a Bill Maher post.
The original post, responding to a link to a news report about Trump saying that Google cost him “16 million votes.” “ Cool.  Can it cost him more?  Lots more?  Enough to get him elected out of office in 2020? Oh, I sincerely hope people don't fall into the same apathetic attitude of "Isn't he supposed to serve eight years?"  No...  He has to answer to the American people after four years of failure.  Don't treat this like George Jr.  It's been a painful three years, I would hate to have to endure five more. “ There were 68 replies to this.  Very few of them were mine.  Most were Trumpers trying to call me stupid.  It’s unfortunate that’s the best argument they’ve got.  Others were Democrats, Liberals or other “Bluesiders” who would usually volley insults back at the Trumpers.  A few of them actually posted facts to disprove Trumper lies and propaganda.  It’s telling that the Trumpers couldn’t provide any information to support their claims. So, sick of the discourse, I posted this.  It’s probably going to fall on the same deaf ears there.  Maybe somebody here will appreciate it. ========== It's really upsetting that this is the best the discourse can produce.  Now, say what you will about Bluesiders insulting Redsiders, at least Democrats and Liberals are bringing facts to the debate.  Republicans and Conservatives seem only able to spew insults, insist at the inevitability of their victory and make veiled threats.  The few who do little more than "express pity" (a subset of "insist at the inevitability") still can't provide any credible evidence at any of the nebulous "good" Trump has done for this country.  Everything he has clumsily tried to spin has been repeatedly shot down with the mountains of evidence against it.  The refugee situation at the southern border, the failed trade war with China, the tax breaks that benefited his rich friends and cost the rest of the American people a larger portion of their paychecks, the tearing down of the ACA with a promise to replace it with something better, only to drop the ball and have to default back to the original ACA.  He even failed to revitalize the coal industry or put anymore research into "clean coal" like he said he would, abandoning all of those miners after lying to them that he would be saving their jobs. This, in the face of mounting scandal, both old and new.  There is evidence that the man is a repugnant human being, a sociopath of the worst kind.  There's his refusal to pay his contractors, his "burn it and run" approach to business the second the business takes a downturn and starts reflecting poorly on him, his manipulation of a porn star so he could sleep with her while his wife was giving birth to their child, and the list goes on and on and on.  It is baffling that people who otherwise would be decent people are so eager to support him when he isn't a reflection of them, nor is he supporting their interests. The reality is that Donald Trump is lying to you, and always has been.  He is only saying what he thinks will get him a cheer and secure your votes, but he's not making any actual plans to run the country.  His entire Presidency has been little more than pageantry, a big show, and you've all bought the tickets.  What you don't realize is what the price really is.  In his vain, vapid approach to being a world leader, he has brought harm to our environment, our politics and our discourse.  Under Bush Jr. and Gingrich, the Republicans were clearly corporate aligned, but now they are seen as being in league with those who would like to see the nation as being the way it was in the fifties, back when white men were oppressing women and anybody who was two shades darker than them.  And Trump is doing nothing to assuage that appearance. The discourse has become so Hellish, that now the entire Blueside is gearing up to unite under whoever we decide in the Primaries, because we've already seen what we're left with if we don't.  The first comment under here is Debbie Sobolewski saying "VOTE BLUE no matter who".  I can't tell if it's sarcastic or serious.  Some people like it, others love it, others think it's hilarious.  I think it's a sad state of affairs that because of one man's sociopathic personality, this is the genuine mentality we're under. Biden?  Sanders?  Buttigieg?  Harris?  It doesn't matter who it is.  We Bluesiders are going to vote for them.  We're not going to grumble and groan that we wanted somebody better this time and abstain.  We're going to cut that orange tumor out of the White House and restore some dignity back to the office. That this is the only legitimate method available to us should leave everybody terrified of the future.  You Republicans need to learn to see the wisdom of change and us Bluesiders need to re-appreciate the necessity of compromise. For now, though, the single greatest accomplishment we can make to repair the damage is keeping Trump from getting another term in office.  He has proven to be wholly incompetent at the job, and I for one am sick and tired of watching him perform it so poorly.
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redconversesworld · 5 years
Text
My new life ...
This is my first BTS fanfiction.
It will include all possible situations. From happy to sad, to complicated , lots of fun and fluff , with a dash of smut.
First few chapters will be more a background story, before the entire thing developes fully. Step by step ... sort of thing.
Enjoy and freely let me know what you think,also please apologize any mistakes as English us not my primary language.
So without further ado ... drum rolls please.
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............................................................................
“I know, I know Joonie ... but I wouldn’t ask for this favour if it weren’t really important.”
The way she emphasized the word really, her already sweet voice taking up a melodic note ... such as a child does when it wants extra sweets. I had to bite my lower lip to not chuckle out loud.
Not wanting to be too nosy I distracted myself with my phone, rummaging through emails, most of which came from my brother.
[SIS!!!!!!! YOU GOT A PLACE? YOU KNOW WE REALLY NEED IT,SLEEPING UNDER SEOULS SKY ISN’T AS PRETTY AS IT MIGHT SOUND!]
Well no shit Sherlock ... What he stated I already knew.
My reply was short and clear.
[Working on it bro. Xoxo]
“Darling, excuse me interrupting you. But looks like after all we might get a chance to see that specific apartment I’ve talked to you about. Thing is we have to go there now and only have about an hour time to look around it. And it’ll be a bit ...”
My eyes stayed on her, waiting on her to finish her sentence, all while we were leaving our current location and moving on towards her parked car.
Before continuing she gave me a warm smile.
“There will be a lot of people present. Not interested clients, more like a filming crew. It will be crowded, but their lunch break is about to begin. So that will give us enough time to snoop around, show you the all ... then you can think of all the apartments I’ve shown you and when back home let me know if any of them fits what you’ve imagined. Good for you?”
Buckling up I kindly gave her my reply. What an amazing woman. I knew that South Koreans place a lot of importance to being kind, but she truly trumped them all by lots.
The drive went smoothly, regardless the roads being packed with cars, but the further we drove uphill the lesser the traffic got.
A high and thick gate separated this complex from all the others buildings which vined over the hill. Standing proud and tall on it, giving an amazing look downtown. Made me wonder if from up here I’d be able to get a look at Han river. Another visitors point I actually needed to see more than just in drive by mode.
The shutting off the engine brings my attention to my surroundings.
She was not kidding when saying that this area was more on the exclusive side, hence why the price would be a sum with a lot of zeros behind it.
On our way to the main door we are greeted by a man who’s face I swear I’ve just seen on a billboard while being driven up here. Maybe not?
I shrug it off as more not than indeed being it him.
“It is him. Seen him on the billboard. He is one of the best actors South Korea got. Adored by millions of fans ... me included.”
As if able to read my mind Mrs.Kim chuckles, while pressing the elevator button.
Her laugh so cute that I join her in.
“Excuse my indiscretion, but what was you line of work again?”
“Oh ... well actually I currently got my Master degree. Focus was on Economy. Sort of Wall Street kind of thingy. I was always good with numbers and had a keen observation for the stock market. My dad is ... well was, in that line of work. Wanting to keep the legacy going I dived into those waters and since then I’ve not sunk yet. Hope it stays that way.”
The elevator arrives and while I step in she takes the time to punch in a code.
“It’s needed to reach the penthouse. Of course only the owners get it. No one else knows it. Unless it is given to them.”
Again I nod as I’m used to this, from my many stays at various hotels.
“May I ask another question?”
For the first time I notice Mrs.Kim being slightly fidgety, her eyes travel up and down on my frame. Then the penny drops and I give her the answer before she even gets the question out.
“Skipped a lot of classes in my school. In fact I was the youngest person in college. Was not peachy at all. I stood out like a 20ft high statue amongst garden gnomes. Got bullied , teased, called names I won’t repeat out of sheer respect for your ears. But I never allowed it to break me ... well too harshly. I kept going and while some of my bullies from back them ended up working as McDonalds managers, I am here today ,potentially spending a lot of my hard earned money on what I hope will be mine and my families future home. Ohhh and I’ll be turning 25 in two months. So, yep ... I am a winner all the way.”
“I was right in my assumption of you.”
“Huh?”
“Not a spoiled brat or daddy’s check book leech. You earn your money by working hard. Your family must be very proud of you.”
“By all means I am not as angelic as I might seem. I too got my flaws and temper and sort of an attitude when provoked. But all in all ... what you see is what you get. I am just me. And I do hope my family is proud of me. After all their opinion matters most.”
“If only my son would be dating a nice girl like you and not that ...”
She coughs gently but I get what she meant.
“Mrs. Kim as much as I adore you and I truly do ... I am here just for the apartment. Not to get a boyfriend or become any ones future daughter in law.”
She heartily laughs at my scrunched up nose and raised brows.
“Was worth a try darling. Uhhh, we are here. Please step in and give me a few seconds to see if we are allowed to roam around freely.”
WOW ... we just stepped out of the elevator and I can already feel my jaw gravitating towards the marbled floor of the entrance hall. Ceiling to floor glass panels allow the daylight to enlighten each corner of the place.
First thought that comes to mind is ... Mom would love it here, also my brother and the little loving pest I call niece. If only dad could see it, he’d instantly say yes. Which I am close to doing myself and I yet am to see the rest of it.
“Darling ... come. We have been given thumbs up to roam around. Just ignore the equipment. I promise non of it will be here in a few days.”
It is only at her pointing it out that I take a wider look around. Countless heavy boxes labelled in Korean, some saying camera others lights fix 1 or 2.
A line of racks goes throughout the living room area. On it a sea of various outfits. I catch a few ladies sorting through the clothes, vividly engaged in talks.
The vibe that comes off is that of being on a set of a K-Drama. A big one , seeing the number of people that are scattered around. Mrs. Kim did mention that there’d be some sort of filming happening here, but she gave no further details. I didn’t bother to ask as I was here for the apartment itself ,not the commotion in it.
“Most of the crew retrieved onto the spacious terrace, which we will visit too later on. For now let us begin the tour. My sincerest of apologies for this mess, but I thought better to see it today than skip on it and having it been taken by someone else before you got your chance of seeing it. Please follow me.”
Room by room I was developing a bigger growing crush on this place. The kitchen doubled the size of the one we got back home in New York. The living room if one imagines away all the filming crew clutter, majestic is the proper word.
A so called smaller bathroom downstairs turns out to be the size of my entire dorm room back in college.
“It is adjoined with the only bedroom down here. No worries there is a guest bathroom so no one will go into this one. Next we got an office room, well it's called that but it can be turned into something else. Depending on what one wishes to do with it. Now here is the before mentioned bedroom. Step in darling.”
The door swings open and my eyes pop out.
On what must be a bed brought in by the filming crew lies a guy and next to him or better said , crawling over him a girl. Who’s voice oozes needy through each syllable.
“Come on oppa ... are you really going to nap now. Pay attention to meeeee!”
The way she squeaks out each word is like dragging nails over a chalkboard.
Mrs. Kim huffs out in frustration before her voice picks up a pissed off tone and the next words that fly out are fully in Korean. Whoever the guy sprawled on the bed is, is in big trouble. His body no longer relaxed, In fact he shoots up from the bed faster than a bullet out of a gun. Eyes going big as they go from Mrs. Kim to me and back to her.
I puff out my cheeks , rocking back and forth on my converses. Not really knowing what to do or say as the situation is both funny and annoying at same time. Not a fan of anyone pissing of Mrs. Kim as she is a sweet lady. So this guy in my books is at shit bottom.
“Will you excuse me just a moment please darling.”
Turning to me she smiles, while another pair of eyes shoots daggers at me. The girl who minutes ago was all greedy now is firmly on her legs, arms crossed , lips formed in an ugly pout and if looks could kill ... bye bye me.
The tall guy and Mrs. Kim exchange a few more words, before his eyes and mine meet for the first time.
Wait ... why is he ... is he or is someone standing behind me?
Just to make sure his eyes and slightly adjured mouth are aimed at me, I turn around to check if no one is behind me. Nope ... just me.
Looking back at him I almost let out a scream as he no longer is standing at the other side of the room, but right in front of me. What is he a ghost? I never heard his steps coming towards me so in the caught off guard moment my jumping back came as a natural reaction.
“I said introduce yourself, not scare her. Ohhh God almighty. You will give me grey hair before time itself. Sorry darling. This is my son. I swear he is normal tho right now it may look like the opposite.”
Her what-what?
“Ehmm ... Hi. Nice meeting you. I’m Cora.”
I stand there with my extended arm and hand pending mid-air for a shake. Maybe I should have bowed or spoken in Korean, even if it is far from being excellent. But I can do basic conversation. Learning the language properly is on my to do list.
I truly need to brush up on my manners too after all ,things here in South Korea are a tad different than in the States.
His shoulder gets nudged as no reaction follows my action.
“Hi ... I’m Cora and you are Kim Nam...wow.”
Mrs. Kiw face palms herself.
“Try again Joonie.”
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His clueless face is a true Kodak worth moment, but as the penny drops his cheeks redden and the embarrassment is more than obvious. Before the poor guy can fully give me his name a snippy voice trumps over his.
“Well ... I’m his girlfriend. And you is disturbin us. But you foreigner so not to expect betta.”
A petite hand with a set of fake nails is showed my way. The smile on her face spits more venom than a Cobra ever could. Not to mention that I just died for the second time within minutes, by the daggers that she shoots my way, all covered up by a too slimy giggle and bad acted out innocence.
I have to bite the inside of my cheeks to not laugh out loud at Mrs. Kim’s mumbled remark “If only you weren’t.”
“Hi, his girlfriend. Nice meeting you too. Sorry for interrupting the crawling over him session. But we are here to see the apartment and I swear you two can pick up where you stopped once we are out of here.”
Now it is Mrs.Kim who is fighting the urge to chuckle.
Leaning over to her is repeat my words from earlier.
“Told ya I got temper when poked. By the way, don’t let her spoil your good mood Mrs. Kim not worth it. Trust me.”
She nods and we simultaneously turn on our heels and step out. Leaving a fuming girl and a dumb folded son behind us. It is at the top of the stairs that I hear his muffled voice finally finding it’s way out of his throat.
“Nice meeting you Cora. Sorry for the scene you stepped in ... I am Namjo ...
What? What do you want?
No I wasn’t ... Stop it babe. I just panicked when mom came in ... lost track of time. Fineeeee then pout. I need to go find the guys anyway.”
Then the sound of a door slamming breaks his talking.
Since the tour will take us all around I am sure I’ll be seeing him before leaving, then I can check up if all is good and my bitch mode hasn’t caused too much harm to the love birds.
Not that I’d mind as to all heavens I had no idea what he saw in that giddy bitch ... my guess she either just had a jealous streak and is otherwise a sweet girl or she is a bitch but one hell of a shag between the sheets. Why else would a guy tolerate such mood swings? I guess to each theirs.
To be continued ...
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harper-clarington · 5 years
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U Is Smart, U is gay, U is important || hsquared
Where: Pop’s When: Wednesday, November 28 Warnings: overconsumption of milkshakes, a gay in denial, harper being a manipulative demon Word Count: 4,494 words
Harper in italics, @northsidehunter​ in bold
Harper was tired of her twin evading the truth about what was going on with him and Sebastian. What part of no secrets was difficult for him to understand? In the back of her mind, she acknowledged that she was also keeping a secret when it came to her...encounter with Roman Lynn in his room. But that was different. She wasn't hiding anything. If he asked she'd be honest...but she'd been a darling sister and cleaned up the evidence so it's not like there was anything to worry about anyways. The real focus here was her brother and the fact that watching him and Sebastian dance around each other was exhausting. That was why she'd managed to coax him into going out to Pop's for a milkshake and some good ol' fashioned twin talk. And now they were sitting in a cozy booth in the corner of the diner, across from each other and far away from everyone else that they wouldn't be overheard, and Harper was going to wring the truth out of him if it was the last thing she did. "So.....big brother, how have you been?"
Hunter made a mental note to himself to strangle the hell out of Sebastian for drunkenly slipping the truth of their little .. thing -- he most definitely wasn't prepared to speak up, even to Harper, especially since it has only been a couple of days since their first fuck. There were still other unspoken feelings that he wanted to address -- not to Sebastian, but to himself. He should have seen it coming when Harper cornered him in the hallways, asking (begging) to accompany her to Pop's. Hunter could never say no to Harper, really, even though he had an unsettling hunch at the back of his mind that Harper wanted more than just a milkshake. She knew, he could see it, and she wanted details -- but he still found himself lying (evading, mostly) at every question she threw him.
Hunter leans back against his seat, his eyes on the glass of milkshake they were currently sharing. "Good." He answers simply, his face straight. To be honest, he had no idea why he was keeping this facade up -- Harper was his wombmate, they told each other everything, but for some unknown reason, the topic of Sebastian was something Hunter was .. Hesitant on opening up about. "You?"
Harper raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment for the time being. Getting information out of her brother was sometimes a slow and calculated game, one that she was well-versed in by now. You couldn't force things out of Hunter — he was too stubborn for that.  So Harper was going to go for slow and steady until Hunter cracked. "I am....as well as can be expected considering everything with Bri," she said, honestly. It was true. Her best friend's disappearance was weighing on her, but she'd been trying her best to drown it out with shopping and fucking and anything else she could do to get her mind off it. 
 She leaned forward and took a sip of their shared milkshake, before pulling back and putting her chin on her hand. "Can I please get a little more than 'Good'," she asked, sweetly. "We spent nine months in a womb together and you're really going to talk to me like we're complete strangers? I'm kind of hurt, Hunt, not going to lie."
His eyes dart back up to her, and he nods solemnly. Sebrina and Harper were close — just as close as he and Sebastian were; even though she refused to show it, Hunter knew that she wasn’t taking the news well. 
 He stays silent, the gears in his brain turning and whirring to formulate a response that didn’t sound too guilty or suspicious. “I have an essay due by Friday,” he starts with a smile, taking a sip after Harper. “1000 words, and I’m only half-way finished.” This definitely wasn’t the answer Harper wanted, but hell — Hunter didn’t care.
Harper nodded, reaching out to grab the cherry off the top of their milkshake. She popped it into her mouth and sucked on the fruit, waiting to see if Hunter planned on elaborating. It didn't seem likely so she swallowed and then fixed him with an unimpressed stare. 
"1000 words is really not that bad," she insisted. "You've got plenty of time. What's it about?" She murmured, deciding to let Hunter think he'd knocked her off his tail. She'd return to Sebastian when the time was right. He'd told her the truth after all, so she had their texts as a trump card if it really came down to it.
Hunter kept his eyes fixated on the glass, absentmindedly stabbing the thick concoction, “A Tale of Two Cities — we have to summarize it. I’ve finished reading it a couple of nights ago, I suppose I’d be able to finish the whole thing by tonight.” 
 The topic about Sebastian seemed to have dissipated, but Hunter kept his guard up. Harper wasn’t going to give up this easily; she was a Clarington, after all.
Harper hummed in acknowledgement. "Dickens isn't too bad. Let me know if you need a second pair of eyes. I'm happy to read it over."  She reached out to grab her brother's wrist, stilling his hand on the straw, and shot him an amused smirk. "Is there a particular reason you're attempting to murder a perfectly good milkshake?  Has the dairy done something to offend you somehow?" 
 She withdrew her hand and drew a heart on the condensation on their milkshake glass instead as she considered her brother's tense posture. This whole thing was really bothering him, it seemed. She just couldn't understand why he wouldn't talk about it so that she could help.
Hunter smiles, pleased. “I’ll hand it to you after dinner, then.” He was about to take another sip, when Harper’s hand takes his, and he looks up at his sister with an unreadable expression. He hadn’t even realized it. She was clearly trying to draw a specific answer out of him, but Hunter will not budge. “The consistency is thicker than usual,” he shrugs, “I’m not a fan of it.”
Harper nodded, perfectly happy to help Hunter out with his assignments if he needed her to. She furrowed her brow and took another sip. The milkshake tasted perfectly fine to her, just the same as their usual Pop's fare. "If it's bothering you that much, we can tell them. I'm sure they'll make as another," she replied, already raising her arm to flag down some of the waitstaff.
Hunter gently pulls her arm down with a shake of his head, “You don’t have to,” he says, “It’s just a milkshake. I wouldn’t want them to go out of their way to make us another one, I can live with this.” He stirs the milkshake a little more with his straw, before sipping again, just to prove a point.
Harper sighed, shaking her head but lowering her head. "Alright, alright, if you say so," she muttered. She leaned down and took a sip out of her straw as well. "It tastes fine to me though." 
 She tilted her head to the side, smiling softly. "You know Blaine right? Blaine Anderson. Wears bowties and always has too much gel in his hair?" Hunter’s head perks up at that, and he nods, a little confused at the quick subject change. “Yeah,” he answers, slowly, dropping his straw back into the glass. “I’ve talked to him a couple of times. What’s up with Blaine?”
Harper shrugged, smiling into their shake. "Oh, nothing. He's just really sweet, that's all. I kind of want to get to know him better," she let the sentence drag out for a second, absently stirring the milkshake between them.  "I think Sebastian likes him so I figured I'd make an effort."
Hunter almost freezes, and his eyes widen slightly as a nasty, unfamiliar feeling settled in his chest. He chews down his bottom lip, leaning down to take another sip of their milkshake — a long, dragging sip, a shitty attempt to freeze his brain. “That’s good, Blaine’s nice,” he said, hating the way the words choked out of his mouth. Harper steamrolled on, eyes fixed on Hunter's face. "Yeah...I mean Seb's been flirting with him but he flirts with everyone so it's kind of hard to tell if it's going to go anywhere," she murmured. "But I mean it'd also be a nice change of pace for him to be committed for once. I think Blaine'd be good for him," she said, waving her hand as she spoke. “Of course Sebastian flirts with everyone, it’s in his nature,” Hunter snaps, taking his straw and hastily swirling the shake, “Good for him if he decides to settle down — Blaine’s sweet, I can’t imagine anybody else perfect for Sebastian.” His tone was slightly hostile, but his words were true, somewhat, because Blaine was, indeed, a genuinely nice person. If Sebastian liked him, then good.
Harper raised an eyebrow, hiding her smile behind her hand at Hunter's tone. She knew she was pushing a lot of her brother's buttons, so ideally he'd fess up soon. But Harper was patient, she would wring what she wanted out of him. "I mean...I don't know if I'd say perfect, that's kind of a big jump. But they'd certainly be cute, don't you think?"
Taking a deep breath, Hunter sets his straw down, leaning back against his seat. He absolutely hated the thought of Sebastian and Blaine together, however cute they may be. “Harper, do I look like I give a shit? They can — go fuck, or whatever, I don’t care. Sebastian can do what he wants.”
Harper raised her hands in a placating gesture, looking down at the table. "Cool your jets, Hunter. I was just making small talk about our good friend," she said. "If there's something else you'd rather talk about, go right ahead, or you can just continue to attempt to burn a hole through the table with the sheer force of your glare."
“I’m not glaring,” he forces a smile, “I’m happy, see? I’m happy for Sebastian and Blaine.” He falls into silence for a couple of moments, trying to calm the bubbling feeling of contempt in his stomach — he and Sebastian weren’t exclusive fuckbuddies, and Sebastian had every right to sleep with whoever he wanted, but how come he was so against the idea of Sebastian dating?
Harper snorted. "You look ecstatic," she snarked. "Again, I don't think there's anything to be happy for yet, but I mean, like you said it doesn't matter either way," she mused. "We should find dates too though...it'd be fun to go on like a triple date or something...ooooh, we could go bowling! That's fun with more people." She pulled out her phone and opened up a text, with no intention of actually sending it. "I'm gonna ask Blaine if he likes bowling."
Hunter reached out in an attempt to snatch Harper’s phone, “No, what the fuck — stop that. I hate bowling.” It was a lame excuse, because Hunter was pretty good at bowling, but he’d rather not go on a triple date; six people was a crowd, and Hunter hated crowds. Yes, that was it. “You’re not dragging me into this.”
Harper giggled and raised her arms over her head and away from her brother, still tapping away. "You're coming. We can do something else. Maybe a movie? I really want to see Bohemian Rhapsody? Or something you'd rather do?" She sent the text, making sure the volume on her phone was on and Hunter could hear the sound, even if she wasn't actually sending it to any real number.
"I have far more important shit to do," Hunter says quickly, looking up at her phone helplessly. "Or, we could go together, just the two of us. Sebastian and Blaine don't have to come with us," although his tone had slightly turned sour at the mention of their names, Hunter nods approvingly at his own suggestion. "Twin bonding. How's that sound?"
Harper shook her head, scrunching her nose up and sliding her phone back into her pocket. “No, that’d be mean. Sebastian’s our friend and he needs us right now with everything going on with Bri. Besides we twin bond all the time. Hell we’re doing it now.” She waved her hand between them to emphasize her point. “I don’t understand. You’re usually more then down to hang out with Sebastian and you just said you like Blaine so what’s the problem?”
Letting out a sigh, Hunter's eyes dejectedly dart back up to meet Harper's. "It's just -- God, fine, what do you want to hear?" This conversation clearly wasn't going anywhere, and Harper's questions about Sebastian and Blaine were really fucking annoying.
Harper rolled her eyes. "I want to hear the truth. From you." She fiddled with the straw, fixing her brother with a glare. "This line of conversation is clearly bothering you. And as you probably know, Sebastian told me you two finally consummated your years of sexual tension so I don't know why you're being so cagey instead of just talking to me."
Hunter was back to swirling the milkshake, avoiding Harper’s gaze. It wasn’t bothering him, not at all. “It’s not,” he voices out his thoughts, sounding a little too petulant for his liking. Harper caught him — he can’t really lie to Harper anymore; not when she knows about his little hookup with Sebastian. “It’s weird,” he says, taking another sip of his milkshake, “It’s Sebastian. My best friend.”
Harper stilled his hand on the milkshake again, and instead pulled it down to the table so that she could lace their fingers, hoping the movement would ground him. "What's weird? That we're talking about Sebastian dating someone else or that the two of you hooked up?"
Hunter pauses, Harper’s question weighing down on him; what was weird? Hooking up with Sebastian wasn’t weird — in fact, it was almost natural, ”I — I don’t know,” he says, completely at a loss.
Harper tilted her head, rubbing her thumb over the top of Hunter's hand comfortably. "Well...what was it about this whole thing that made you so hesitant to talk to me about it in the first place?" She pursed her lips, trying not to feel offended since she knew Hunter was working through his own stuff. "We're usually so forthcoming with one another." “It’s Sebastian,” he says again, as if that was enough of an explanation for Harper. “He’s .. Different, I don’t know — we’ve known each other since we were babies, it’s..” He stops, “I don’t know.” He huffs out a frustrated sigh, “I’m sorry, I — it just felt like I had to keep .. This to myself until I’ve straightened my thoughts out.”
Harper shook her head, smiling gently at her twin. "Don't be sorry, Hunt. I just want what's best for you and if that's Sebastian, I'm happy for you," she explained. She withdrew her hand, not wanting to overwhelm him. "Can I be very blunt or is that going to scare you off?"
He manages a smile back, grateful for his little sister’s support. “It’s hard admitting it, you know? You’re the first person I’ve told — even though Sebastian doesn’t seem to have a problem announcing it to the world.” Hunter braces himself for the worst. “No, I’d rather you tell me straight-up. What is it?”
Harper snorted. "I mean has he ever been subtle about anything ever?" She wondered aloud.  She shot her brother a sympathetic smile. "I'm just going to give you my thoughts, and they might help you straighten yours out and they might not." She took a breath. "I really don't think this is just a fuck or a friends with benefits situation for you...yeah you've known Seb since we were all dorky infants, but that's not why this is all..." she waved her hand in the air abstractly. "...confusing. I just think you're finally opening the floodgates to a lot of feelings you've both been fighting for some inane reason and it's overwhelming you. Is that right at all or do I need to fuck off?"
Unbeknownst to himself, a small, fond grin makes its way across his face, and he looks down at his milkshake, looking almost shy, “He could have tried — Sebastian said he’d keep quiet about it, but I should have known better.” He was grazing his thumb across the back of Harper’s wrist, which had stopped the moment his sister’s words came crashing down on him, like a pile of bricks. “I..” The words get caught in his throat, and he huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “Feelings. The last time I’ve talked about my feelings was when I broke up with Natalie.” Harper shook her head, sympathetically patting him on the arm. "I still don't understand the decisions that went into that when both of you are still in town, but that's neither here nor there," she muttered, taking another sip of the shake, frowning as she noticed they were nearing the bottom. "I think that's your problem. You should talk about them more. It'll get that constipated look off your face," she joked. "So," she waved her hand in the air again. "How do you feel when you're with Bas?"
"That's a talk for another time, I suppose." Hunter squints. He'd rather not think about Natalie as of the moment -- they, too, had fallen in a similar arrangement, despite having ended their relationship on ..  Emotional terms. "Constipated. Really." Hunter scrunches his nose, a little offended, but Harper wasn't the only person who had told him that. "With Sebastian? Happy." That was one way to put it -- he could elaborate; he might, if Harper asked, but he was one hundred percent sure that he wouldn't be able to shut up if he did so. "Do you want to order another milkshake, Harp? The chocolate-flavoured one?"
Harper nodded, it wasn't the time to talk about that relationship now. Though it might be if Natalie and Sebastian didn't stop trying to maim each other over social media, another talk about her brother getting his beaus under control might be necessary. "Yes. You look like something very unpleasant is lodged up your ass," she snorted, before finishing off the milkshake. "Chocolate would be nice," she replied, before turning back to the topic at hand. His feelings. "What kind of happy? Same kind of happy you feel with me?" She prodded.
After calling a waitress over to order a glass of chocolate milkshake, Hunter found himself instinctively shaking his head at Harper's question with a laugh, "No, it's .. Different.. He's different. It's hard to explain." He reaches out for Harper's hand again, taking it and squeezing it. "Don't get the wrong idea, I love you; you're still my number one. Sebastian -- is Sebastian." He waves his other hand vaguely, trying to get his point across.
Harper shot him a broad smile, happy at the reassurance even though she hadn't been worried about that for even a second. "Duh, I better be," she joked, squeezing his hand back. "But try — to explain, I mean. Sebastian being Sebastian to you means something different than it does to me," she explained. "To me, he's a friend, an ex-dance partner, a karaoke duet king and the best person to gossip with. What's he to you?" What was Sebastian to him? A good fuck -- no, he was more than that. They had set some ground rules, though, they had promised each other to keep things between them strictly platonic, feelings-wise. "He's my best friend. A person I can blindly trust." Hunter grins, "He's egotistical, quite a handful when intoxicated, and is ridiculously high-maintenance, but.." His features soften, "I like .. Maintaining him, if that makes any sense."
Harper wondered in Hunter realized the literal hearteyes he was making at the moment but she thought it best not to mention it. Instead she tried for another angle. "Is...do you want to be the only person maintaining him? I mean you didn't seem very happy about the idea of Blaine doing the same when I mentioned it to you earlier," she explained, just as the waitress placed a new milkshake in front of them.
His jaw tightens at the mention of Blaine, “Maybe .. Maybe I was just being selfish,” Hunter answered slowly, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself, rather than Harper. He takes a small sip of the chocolate milkshake. “Blaine — Blaine’s great. He’s a great guy. Nice, patient, intelligent, fun to talk to. They’d be good together.” Harper didn’t miss her brother tensing up all over again, so she tread carefully. “I don’t think it’s selfish to want to have someone to yourself if they’re ok with it too,” she said, running her finger along the top of her straw. “Blaine is great. You’re naming all sorts of characteristics that are lovely but I don’t know if you...are being totally truthful here.”
"I'm being truthful about Blaine," he retorts -- it was true, Hunter genuinely liked Blaine. It was the thought of Sebastian and Blaine dating that put him off. He looks up at Harper, face hesitant. "Does -- does Sebastian actually like Blaine?" He asked tentatively, "He .. Never brought it up. Not that he has an obligation to."
Harper reached over to squeeze Hunter's hand again, intertwining their fingers. "I don't actually think he wants to date him or anything...just that he's cute," she said softly. "Seb's not exactly the commitment type, is he?" For some reason, Harper's consoling words didn't help. "Yeah -- yeah," he huffs out a humourless laugh, "He's not. Neither am I." A lie. He'd dated Natalie for 2 years. "Which, you know, is a good thing, because it makes things less .. Complicated."
Harper rolled her eyes. Hunter had such a tendency to not really see himself for who he really was at all. "You dated Nat for like two years," she pointed out, leaning in to take a sip of their shake. "It's not really complicated. Either you're two bros helping each other out or it's more than that and you should re-evaluate whether this whole thing is going to end up hurting someone or not."
Hunter chews down on his bottom lip, "I -- whatever." Natalie was the longest relationship he's ever had, and admittedly, there were times where he missed her, fleeting moments where he wanted her back, but Hunter wasn't one to impulsively act out on his emotions. "Sebastian and I have already talked about it. We .. Won't let it jeopardize our friendship. You could say that we're just 'bros helping each other out'," he says with a shrug, "That's that. I guess."
Harper reached out to poke her brother in the cheek, shaking her head at his naivety. "Listen, I don't mean to be the person that poked holes in well-laid plans but you guys can 'talk' all you want, but if someone is or does catch feelings that all spirals. And if feelings are involved, it's better to be honest about them sooner rather than later. That's how you preserve the friendship."
Resisting the urge to swat Harper's hand away in a fit of petty annoyance, Hunter leans back against his seat, his face twisted in a small frown. "That won't be a problem," Hunter said, faltering a bit and he immediately hated the uncertainty that laced his voice. "Because feelings aren't involved. He's -- he's my best friend. Sure, we've crossed a boundary, and there's no going back, but.. There's .. Nothing to worry about."
Harper sighed. There was only so much prodding a sister could do without outright spelling things out for her brother and she was worried if she did, he'd have a fit, so she erred on the side of caution. "If you say so, brother dearest. I'd just be careful if I were you." She took another sip of the shake. "Anyways, if this is all fine and dandy, I still don't understand why you tried so hard not to tell me. I'm your sister not your  warden. W're supposed to talk to each other about stuff." "Because it's weird," Hunter protested, "It's Sebastian," he says again, as it that explanation in itself would help Harper comprehend the complexity of the situation. He leans close, taking a long sip of the chocolate shake, "I know. I'll -- be more open about .. Him. This whole situation in general, even though there's nothing much to talk about. He's just my best friend. Whom I find attractive."
Harper shrugged, not particularly convinced. “I mean he is attractive. But anyways, if you do feel like the situation is spiralling, I am here for you, you know? Through anything. Even the weirdness.” She reaches out to squeeze Hunter’s hand again. “But really there’s no need to worry about him dating anyone else, if you ask me.”
He shoots her a small, grateful smile, squeezing her hand back. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. “It’s — I don’t know why it’s frustrating me so much, trying to .. Wrap my head around this.” His brows furrow, “Also, I’m not worried about him dating anyone.” "It's not something you need to figure out right now or even today. But it's something you should probably try to work out eventually, either with my help or on your own. It'll give you some sort of peace of mind and it'll help you navigate your arrangement with him better," she suggested, releasing his hand after one last squeeze. "Okay, Hunter," she replied, not convinced in the slightest but not wanting to cause a fight.
His frown only deepens a little at her dubious tone, but he doesn’t say anything else. He takes one last sip of the shake, before drawing back. “We should get going, unless you’d want to stay for a third glass?” He teases with a grin, “Though, you’re going to need to wear yourself to a shadow dancing the calories off.”
Harper scrunched up her face, offended. "I dance away enough calories for a day of indulgence, thank you," she muttered. "But yes, let's go. The rabble are starting to trickle in." She nodded her head to one of the other tables — it had been empty before they got there but was now brimming with South Siders.
“Of course, just don’t get carried away.” After waving the waitress over and paying for the milkshakes, Hunter slides out of the booth, wrapping a protective arm around Harper as he glanced at the rowdy group in distaste, “Dregs,” he said simply with a shake of his head, stepping out of the diner and walking back to his car.
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What Does Chogiwa Mean? [I]
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Author: @loeyeolty AU: Office | Coworker Genre: Crack | Fluff Pairing: Baekhyun x Soojin (OC) Trigger Warning: n/a Word Count: 1,349
Plot: Office crushes and Peach Soju are a very, very bad match!
A/N: this was edited and compiled by @julietsoddeye . she is an angel! thank you! anyways, OC names used here are the same with her Diamond series, but they are not the same universe. A lot of our works are based off of Soojin, Hisako, and Yanmei and we just edit the names once we are done writing. But sometimes we’re too lazy to edit so we just let the OC names stay as is, just like in this one!
Soojin had been training with Baekhyun.
Baekhyun has been handling the loan files for this month, part of his CEO training duties as well.
"Soojin can you hand me over those files," Baekhyun motions to the pile of folders at her desk.
Soojin trumps over her heels that she borrowed from Yanmei causing her to topple over Baekhyun.
"Soojin, I can't breathe," Baekhyun said between muffled breaths.
"I cant see u? Baekhyun, where are you?"
Soojin felt delicate hands push her buttocks up, breathing air between her thighs.
She looks down to find herself sitting on his precious face.
"Oh shit, I am so sorry?"
"Its ok I'm used to it"
Soojin hurriedly tries to lift her butt up, only to have her hips stopped by Baekhyun's firm hands.
"Ttay."
"Ayyyyyy" Yanmei screams as she walks in the room with Junmyeon holding her hand.
~~~
"Where you?" Soojin frantically hits send in her Kakaotalk. she examines her cocktail, waiting for Yanmei and Hisako to come but it has been an hour.
"Cafe Havana"
It wasn't the reply she was expecting.
Soojin read the sender name again and again. BYUN BAEKHYUN.
"Oh so sorry! wrong send!" Soojin felt cold sweat break on her forehead speed texting him back.
"I don't really mind. whats up? :)"
"I'm just waiting for my friends, It has been an hour and.."
“Do you need company while waiting for them?"
"No, its okay I'm fine."
And that was a fateful month ago. Nothing much was exchanged between Soojin and Baekhyun except for awkward glances and good mornings.
Soojin had spent an awful time drunk with Hisako and Yanmei in their apartment.
Soojin had been counting her bills when Baekhyun boldly approached her.
"Chogiwa... I can't really explain it without context."
"I am not sure what you mean."
Soojin racks her brain, not remembering a single moment of discussing chogiwa with him.
"This," As Baekhyun whips out his phone from his thick thigh pockets, the jiggle of his butt made Soojin swoon.
Baekhyun opens a KKT conversation sent at midnight.
"What does chogiwa mean?" Baekhyun reads aloud.
"Hh fuck fuck fuck" Soojin's face reddens as she slams her fist on the table. Peach soju, she remembers chugging it, screaming Baekhyun's name in frustration and blacking out.
"I didn't send that," Was her alibi.
"My friend Yanmei, she was using my KKT to talk to her ex Jongdae, who was also my friend. Must have sent it to you hah,"
Baekhyun quirks his brow and smirks, "I'll let you slide this time." As he walks away.
Disaster averted. Soojin breathes. or so she thought.
When Soojin came home, she was determined to confront Hisako and Yanmei on who sent that weird text to her awkward office crush. But the ice cold peach soju on the table was too damn inviting. Downing it even before her roommates could arrive.
Saturdays were supposed to be for sleeping in, but Soojin found herself in the office with her office mates Junmyeon, Sehun and worse, Baekhyun. Soft fingers tapped on her shoulder unexpectedly.
"Send nudes." Baekhyun shows his KKT screen again. "Whoever your friend Yanmei could be, I heard Junmyeon just broke up with his girlfriend too. Maybe we could set them up?"
Soojin's eyes could not believe that her phone sent "send nudes" to Baekhyun, without her conscious knowledge of it. Thankfully Baekhyun seems to be riding along the idea that it was her friend sending those weird messages. "Sure? Why not?"
Soojin wanted to save herself from embarrassment "But maybe she meant nude kimbap. That was her favorite, so was her ex Jongdae's favorite. On weekends we like making those."
"Yeah, nude kimbap. If that's the case id like some nudes too. Maybe from you?" Baekhyun winks as he files more credit papers on his drawers.
He turns around and the tight well-fitting uniform formed creases on his thick buttocks. The shape of his torso complimenting his body as well.
Soojin could not help but stare, only to have her view disrupted by a passing Junmyeon.
"I heard everything. I’d love to meet new people. But I don't want to do blind dates. I want to start as friends then build our relationship from there..." Junmyeon visualizes.
"And your point is?" Baekhyun laughs.
"Maybe... Maybe Soojin could arrange a house party inviting her favorite coworkers then I could meet her roommate."
"Ha, you wish." Soojin rolls her eyes at the two men.
"C’mon Soojin, it won't be so bad. We could start tonight. I’ll pay for the food." Baekhyun begs.
"Fine."
~~~
Baekhyun barges in the apartment, carrying packets of ramen and spam.
"That's your idea of party food?" Soojin snorts.
"Yeah, I live alone. This is what bachelors eat okay, don't judge me?"
When Junmyeon and Yanmei shook hands, stars formed in their eyes.
Hisako came in setting the tv for some movies, Junmyeon and Soojin took turns setting the couch to accommodate six people.
Chanyeol, a friend of Soojin, decided to help Yanmei and Baekhyun cook the army base stew in the kitchen.
"Hi Yanmei, I mean we are just new friends but, we-were you texting me?"
"What?" Yanmei sets down her sprig of spring onion.
"I mean these," Baekhyun whips out his phone showing the slew of weird messages. An audible laugh escaped from Chanyeol's lips
"Why?" Baekhyun stares at the taller man.
"That's classic Soojin, always drunk, always drunk texting." The tall man quips.
"Did she blame it on me again? That bitch!" Yanmei motions Hisako to come close and check the messages.
"She told me you were the one sending this," Baekhyun's head swam in confusion.
"Affirmative, that's her. Why the heck would Yanmei tamper with her phone?" Hisako nods.
Baekhyun hides his phone, smiling sheepishly to himself.
~~~
"Soojin, we have a situation." Baekhyun sternly spoke, distracting Soojin from Zootopia.
"You mean that—" Soojin points at the six-foot giant bawling his eyes at the sight of the bunnies and foxes.
"No."
"That?" Soojin points at Yanmei and Junmyeon, now making out on the table.
"No... Oh, that's hot, but no." Baekhyun snaps himself back. "We need more spam."
Soojin mindlessly follows Baekhyun to his car which was parked across the road opposite the building. Crossing the road, Baekhyun gently grabs her hand. Staying on the dangerous side of the road.
These small gestures made her heart beat mad but she shrugged it off. Maybe he's just kind.
When Baekhyun told her to "get anything you want" in the convenience store, it made her heart flutter. but maybe he was just kind.
"Here, have some more nudes," Baekhyun sets out a pack of reverse kimbap and breaks chopsticks for Soojin.
"Damn why are you being so nice? You're not my officemate Baekhyun, bring him back!" Soojin laughs to shake off her weird thoughts.
"I'm just being nice to my textmate, Yanmei."
"What."
"I knew it was you." Baekhyun plants a kiss on her cheek.
Soojin is stunned in her seat outside the 7-Eleven.
"You, you're gonna give me a heart attack!" Soojin playfully hits Baekhyun's chest, feeling his hard pectoral muscles, making her blush.
"You liking what you feel?" Baekhyun's smirk widens.
"Okay fine, I drunk texted you! Just stop playing now—"
Baekhyun shushes her by kissing her other cheek.
"Baekhyun!!!" Soojin coyly covers her hot cheek.
"Come, Soojin let's go home," Baekhyun takes her hand, leading her back home.
"Wait, I forgot something,"
Soojin pulls Baekhyun back to the convenience store…
~~~
"Shhh" Soojin tiptoes back in her apartment, with Baekhyun hand in hand.
She noticed Hisako on Chanyeol’s shoulders both asleep on the couch, the tv streaming Rick and Morty, no Junmyeon or Yanmei in sight.
"I could kiss you now and I'm so good I swear I won't make a sound. Those two won't even wake up," Baekhyun whispers
"Bullshit. Get in my room. now!"
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chronicbatfictioner · 6 years
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Theater of the Soul - Chapter 19
Fortunately, in spite of his sudden hysterics, Dr Nelson did not deem a need for Jason to be sedated again.
Jason cried and cried into Bruce's arm, telling them the horror story of how he was brought to a small hospital right after the accident, had his legs merely splinted, and then brought to Napier's house somewhere at the outskirts of Los Angeles. Then he was given a shot, and then he didn't remember anything else. The next thing he knew was that he was crawling across asphalt and there were kids. He remembered Danny and Ellie when Tim showed him their photos, but he didn't know their names. He just said that they looked out for him, and he looked out for them. He was able to walk only a little while before meeting Danny and Ellie.
He could not remember much, just that the photo of red-breasted robin in his jacket kept him feeling like he could get home, someday. That someone would look for him. His head felt cloudy the whole time, and he could not think of what else to do; thus figured out that he was being thrown back to the streets. He knew he had to try to survive, somehow, in a strange city with strange people. He didn't remember wanting to try to figure out how to go home; his head was too clouded and painful to figure out things.
He did remember everything from the time he had met Danny and Ellie, and that they had brought him food. Sometimes there would be people who would try to harass them, and Jason would fight for them. He might be only sixteen, just a few years older than Danny. But he was tall and big enough to fight off three people at once - which he had, at one point.
Food, fortunately, was easy to come by. Unlike Gotham, Los Angeles' population apparently liked to throw away perfectly good food. He remembered that one time, Danny came back to them with a whole large black plastic bag filled with donuts. It might have been a little less fluffy than fresh donuts, but they gorged happily, set aside a dozen for the rest of the day, and shared the loot with the rest of the people around them. There were many homeless like them, some with kids, some with pets; and they all mind their own group's business. But no one would turn down free food.
Tim had left the room a little while later, when Alfred came to pick him up and Dick drove him home. The next day, when Tim returned to visit him, Jason again patted the space on his bed.
"I saw your eyes back then and suddenly thought of-- wanted to go home." Jason said. "Thanks for finding me, Birdie."
"I had to," Tim admitted. "The only option if I didn't find you is that you were... not alive. And I can't... that'll ruin Bruce." and me, said the voice in his head.
Jason was quiet for a moment. "Babs told me you'd found me by kind of referring back to the things I've told you back then." he smiled wryly, "at least that means you'd listened."
"Well, you're a good storyteller." Tim grinned back. "We've all missed you, you know."
Jason was glaring at him, a little blankly, making Tim's heart beat a little faster with worry. He snapped his fingers in front of Jason's face. "Hey, you okay?"
Jason blinked, annoyedly. "Yeah, I was just thinking." he said. "The robin. I could remember it being... safe, y'know? Even in the worst times, it... it kept me 'safe', I think..." he shrugged. "You remember when you took the photo?"
"Yeah, sure. Robinson's park. We were making your portfolio and headshots." Tim smiled. "I still haven't given it to you."
Jason smiled ruefully. "I'd offer to pay. But I think I'm broke now..." he said. "We... I should've known he was a con... The gigs he'd gotten me were... crap, and that's just me being nice." Jason inhaled and exhaled loudly. "I hope somebody would take a spade to his damn head and club him to death."
Tim stilled. No one had told Jason that Napier was dead, yet. He'd had another psychotherapy session with Dr Nelson yesterday, and another one this morning. In true, cheeky, Jason form, Jason stated that he has no secrets, and the sessions can take place with whoever present listening along. Yesterday was Bruce; and this morning, Alfred was there.
Tim just thought that Jason simply did not want to be alone. In a way, neither did Tim. He knew what it's like to be alone and lonely, and although there are still times he preferred to be alone; Tim already knew that he would never be lonely with the plethora of people looking out for him.
They chatted and played the video games that Tim had brought along. Jason wanted to know how Tim's school was doing, and there was a little pang of jealousy in his voice when he realized that he'd missed two whole years of school - while Tim would be graduating. Tim was more surprised when Jason apologized for missing Tim's birthday. Birthdays. Plural.
"I'd intended to at least send you a postcard." he said. "Thought if I'd made it big in LA, I'd even send you a plane ticket."
"You can still get me a postcard for this year's birthday." Tim told him.
"Oh yeah, I totally intend to give you something. Fifteen eh, Timmy?" there was a tinge of sadness in his voice. "You going to get your Learner's Permit and all? I'll probably get you a keychain or something." Jason's voice still sounded cheery, but Tim could catch the strain in it.
"How about..." he turned to face Jason. "You get better. By my birthday, I expect you to be in a wheelchair already and get there. And on my sixteenth birthday, you can be my 'accompanying adult' for the permit's test. I'll be starting the lessons after my birthday, anyway. Once you graduated to crutches, I may even allow you in the backseat." he explained, only partly joking.
Jason replied, "Little birdie, I'mma demand them to put me on wheelchairs tomorrow, what makes you think I'll wait a week?"
"There's this thing called infection that could be serious, you know." Tim deadpanned.
"I've weathered bugs and germs from the streets of LA. I'm practically invincible."
"We're in Gotham."
"Oh snap," Jason quipped. "bugs and germs here have horns, don't they? And like, mainline the devil or something?"
"I'd say so, yes." Tim replied, straight-faced. "So no, you're not getting to wheelchairs tomorrow."
"Day after, then." Jason nodded decidedly.
"Nooo...! Wait until Dr Cross give the all-clear!"
"Tim, buddy, it's my body. I know it best."
"Jay, buddy, Dr Cross has literally see the insides of your body, under your skin, to your bones. I think he knows you better." They were on a glare-off standstill for a few seconds, until Tim put his trump card on the table. "I'mma tell Alfred." he delivered.
Jason groaned in dismay. "Nooo...! You traitor!"
"Then wait until Dr Cross okay-ed you for wheelchair and physiotherapy!" Tim replied, almost smugly.
Jason huffed. "Fine... although I think he'll let me on a wheelchair, anyway, within a few days..."
Tim rolled his eyes. In spite of all of his arguments, he knew that Jason was right. If Jason would try to charm Dr Cross, he could probably get away with practically anything he wanted.
A little voice in his head said that if Jason would be charged with Napier's murder, there would be a massive chance that Jason could charm the juries and whatnot. Like Bruce, Jason definitely know how to capitalize on his good looks.
He shook his head lightly, mentally erasing the idea that Jason had been at fault for anything. No matter what. Jason could not be blamed. Must not be blamed. Of all the things Jason has experienced, being viewed as a murderer must not be one of it. His mind was starting to figure out ways to blame Napier's death on other, unrelated issues. Good thing that Tim could actually think better while his hands were doing something else, because Jason seemed insistent on beating him on the video game they resumed.
His eyes felt swollen, dry and he knew that they would be red. He had wept for a good long time, feeling like such an idiot. Bruce kept telling him that it was all alright, that he wasn't at fault for running off with Napier and ended up like this.
A whole damn year was missing from his life. There were birthdays he'd missed, not just his own. There were memories missing, replaced with blurry memories of his life on the streets.
He looked at Tim, still stoically standing - metaphorically, that is, because Tim was basically snuggling right next to him. He'd tried to thank Tim a number of times for not giving up on him, and Tim would just brush him off; as if it was just another day of life for him. Jason simply could not fathom what could happen to him if he'd not been discovered by Tim. On the streets, definitely. Amnesiac and catatonic, totally.
He was just relieved that he had not resorted to violence like the 'crazies'. There were plenty of those in Gotham's homeless community when he was little. The sane ones would always warn his little 10-year-old self and steered him away from the crazies; those with untreated mental problems or substance problems who would not care if those around them were as down-and-out as they were and demand to be given whatever it is they wanted by using violence.
Jason was realistic. He knew that the longer he was on the street with questionable mental health, he would have ended up just like those 'crazies'. Tim had assured him that he hadn't, and that the only acts of violence he had done were of the protective kind. But he still has the nagging feeling that Tim was not telling him the whole truth. 
And now Tim was snuggling next to him, seemingly half asleep as the marathoning of the series he'd suggested still running on TV. When he moved, and Tim didn't even blink, he knew that Tim was already asleep with his eyes not-closed properly. He draw up the blanket and smoothed some hair from Tim's forehead, and placed a chaste kiss.
Whatever would happen, he knew that this boy will forever be in his foremost priority. Anyone thinking of hurting him would absolutely regret it. Even if it means he would never get on stage again. Whatever Tim wanted, Jason decided, Tim will get. And Jason would be on the forefront to help and cheer him on.
Right now, though, he shall need to get his physical strength back, especially on his legs. He started mapping out the possible exercises that he could do without aggravating his lower legs, to present to the doctors. He remembered Bruce's words of "figure out the pros and cons, all possible questions and arguments, all roads and pathways; until you can eat, breathe, and sleep the character as if you were born as it."
Fine, it might have been a suggestion on how to understand a character. But that doesn't mean it cannot be applied on everything else. So he started a note on the tablet that Barbara had given him earlier, and listed down a good number of exercises he could do on his own. Physiotherapy be damned. He shall get up on his feet and/or be as mobile as possible as soon as possible.
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robininthelabyrinth · 6 years
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Countless Roads - Chapter 31
Fic: Countless Roads - Chapter 31 - Ao3
Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Gen, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, others
Summary: Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him.
Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.
A/N: Special treat extra update this week, since it's a holiday and I have time :)
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"So, which one of us is it?" Len asks Sara as their driver transports them into the prison.
"What?" she asks.
"Which one of us is it?" he repeats, knowing as well as she does that she heard him the first time. "Stein, perhaps? Me?"
"Why would it be you?" Sara asks, surprised.
"So, Stein, then," Len says with disgust. He's not sure why Rip has gotten it fixed into his mind that Savage is after Firestorm, but he's been willing to operate on that basis – after all, while Len is fairly sure the trap is for him, he doesn't actually know that for certain and Rip's got more experience with all things Savage. And, sure, Len would be willing to sign up for the risk of a bullet to the head as a last ditch resort to preserve the world.
Somehow, though, he doesn't think last ditch is what Rip had in mind.
They haven't even tried a rescue yet, damnit!
Sara presses her lips together. She puts on a decent front, but her stress is showing. "Snart, I don't know what you're talking – "
"Cut the crap," Len says pleasantly. "I was under the impression you signed up to this gig to be a hero – not someone's pet killer."
"It's not like that!"
"No? If I had to guess, Rip's feeling a little antsy about our chances of success, and he'd like you to get rid of Stein to make sure no Firestorm is created. If you don't, the future is in danger, etc., etc., something like that?"
Sara is silent for a few moments, so Len knows he's right.
"You know, I'd criticize the man for using the same card over and over again, except it seems to keep working on you," Len says.
"It's not – "
Len holds up a finger. "Join my mission or the future is doomed." Another finger. "Stop this nuke sale or future is doomed." Another. "Rescue the ATOM suit piece or future is doomed."
"I get your point," Sara snaps. "It doesn't mean he isn't right, though."
"Sure, it does," Len drawls. "Future was gonna be doomed if we didn't get to that ATOM piece, right? But we did get to it, so the world didn't end up being doomed. Meaning, of course, that if we rescue Stein, the future won't be doomed, either."
"But – "
"Who's it gonna be next time?" Len asks her. He can't afford to be nice about this, not when Jax needs Stein to maintain the triad bond, not when this is the last step Sara needs to take before she lets go of what's left of her conscience. He's spoken with killers-to-be before, scared kids trapped in prison; he knows what they look like if they don't listen to him, after they've taken that final step that goes beyond what their souls can handle - uncaring, indifferent. Ultimately suicidal. He can only imagine how much worse it will be with someone who bound up their identity with heroism. Honestly, Rip should never have asked this of her; he should've known better. There are some things a person can't do and survive intact, and Len's guessing that this is one of them, for Sara. If there's anything Len can say to stop her from even trying to take the shot that she'll torture herself over for the rest of her life, he's going to say it. "Who's it gonna be? Me? Jax? Not Kendra, not until she does what Rip needs her to do. But once you have a killer card in your deck, it's so easy to keep playing it – it's just in case, you know, just so much easier to be sure – "
"It's not like that," Sara insists through gritted teeth. “You don't understand - Rip said –”
"Sure it is. It’s exactly like that," Len says brutally. "And then one day will come the day when he tells you, 'I'm so sorry, Miss Lance – no, Sara. You've come with me through so much. We've achieved so much. But there's a time aberration that you caused just by being here, where I brought you, a really bad one, so I'm going to need you to turn that shooting hand at yourself to preserve the timeline. Don't worry, I'll tell your family you died a hero –'" Len smiles bitterly. "'Right around the time I get around to burying Carter's body.'"
Sara flinches at that last part. "I'm no one's pet killer," she says, her voice low and furious - but better furious than numb and dead and preparing to do a terrible thing. "I make my own decisions, even if you disagree with them."
"Thought your decision was to become a hero," Len drawls. "Guess I was wrong."
"I have no choice, Snart," she says harshly. "I have to do this. Rip showed me – "
"A future that won't happen if you actually put some effort into trying to get Stein out of here instead of into a grave," Len says. "I don't think you get that I'm being nice here, Sara. Nice to you, nice to Rip, too, because he's gonna regret ordering you to do this later on, too; he's going to regret all of it once he's back with his family and trying to explain to them what steps he took to save them, when he's facing up to the fact that they would never be okay with what he's done - to other people. To you. See, I'm trying to talk your language, about heroes and morals and not going back to your little bloodlust addiction the first time someone says the word 'risk'."
She glares at him. "Oh, yeah?" she says challengingly. "And how's it sound in your language, thief? You're a killer yourself, aren't you?"
"Used to be," Len says mildly. "I've stopped doing that sort of thing, now; don't want to add to the number of ghosts in the world."
"Answer the damn question, Snart."
"Fine," Len says, crossing his arms and leaning his head back. She wants to play hardball? He'll play hardball. "Here's how it goes in my language: Stein's part of Team Flash and a member of my crew long before you were. You know what happens if you decide to follow Rip's orders to off him like the worthless assassin you apparently really are at heart once we scratch off that hero veneer?"
He watches her flinch at that one.
"Well, then, Sara, if you do that, you're not going to have to worry about the timeline," Len continues. "Because I'm gonna kill you myself, and after I do, I'll tell Barry Allen to pass on to the Arrow exactly how and why of it, and I'll tell him to spread the word to make absolutely certain that your family knows for a fact that you didn't die a hero. I'm gonna let ‘em know - let 'em all know - that you died gagging on the bloodlust you came back with, instead. I'm gonna make sure that’s the last memory they have of you – covered in blood and death, their little white canary gone wrong. Gonna let 'em know what whoever it was that brought you back that last time should have Stein's death on their conscience, make so they know it's all their fault, too. I'm gonna make this so goddamn clear for them that they'll regret that they didn't pray for you to die in that boat you got yourself lost in, ‘cause it would've been better than seeing what you turned into."
She turns to him, furious, her mouth opening and closing in horror and despair.
"Of course, you could kill me to stop that," Len says thoughtfully. "What's another teammate, after all, if you're committing to doing it already?"
"Don't you dare," she whispers. He sees her eyes: they're filled with tears. He's getting to her. "I'm not – I'm not like that. This – this is for the greater good, damnit. It's necessary. The risk to the future, to the world - it's too great. This is necessary. A necessary sacrifice."
She's trying to talk herself back into it - good. That means he's convinced her out of it, if only a little bit, and now he's got the momentum. He's going to save the goodness in her soul whether she likes it or not, and whether she hates him for doing it afterwards.
Time to play his trump card.
"So why not just kill Jax now and be done with it?" Len replies, arching his eyebrows at her. "Firestorm requires regular merging to survive, and we're pretty far away from Ronnie. We can kill Jax right now and Stein'll be dead in a few hours. No harm, no foul, no risk.”
He watches Sara’s jaw clench.
“No?” he asks sardonically. “But I thought this was about the greater good. And, hell, why not? I'm sure we can rationalize that killing a twenty year old with his whole life in front of him is, how you put it, for the greater good. Hell, maybe we should suggest it to Rip – spot of euthanasia back on the ship, and Stein'll start dying right away, no risk or infiltration needed. I’m sure he’d agree."
He wouldn't, of course. For all his faults, Rip's not a cold-blooded killer - even this play he's pulling now, with Sara, is more desperation than it is well-thought-out. But Sara needs to see where the road of ruthlessness ends, or else she'll keep walking it.
"Damn you," Sara whispers. "Damn you, Snart – "
"Just to remind you: I went with the hero argument first," Len says with a shrug as the truck pulls into the prison. He's done what he can. The rest of it is all up to Sara. "You can say that was what convinced you, if it makes you feel better."
He climbs out of the truck in his guard's uniform. His job, self-assigned, is to find and break the circuit holding the ghosts in. As far as Rip is concerned, Len's just going to go to the prison cells to pop Mick and Ray out the old-fashioned way, and that's how Len likes it. Normally he prefers to work with his crew rather than around them, but he doesn't want any interference.
Sara gets out, too, but she looks pretty shaken. There's a chance Len's words have had an impact.
If not –
Well, if not, Len had better get to that circuit before Sara gets to Stein, or else they'll have two dead teammates – since he was entirely serious about killing Sara in retribution – and Clarissa is going to yell at Stein's ghost forever, assuming he can get Stein’s ghost back on the ship through that ghost-repelling field. Not to mention the potential need for a mutiny to get the Waverider back to 2016 as soon as possible for Jax to merge with Ronnie quickly enough to save his life, in the event that Rip wouldn't agree...
Lots of unpleasant alternatives down that path. Best that Len focus on getting Mick out of this place fast enough to help Len stop Sara, if the need arises.
Yuri showed Len the electricity plans and, as he’d expected, there is a circuit running through the entire building. Len isn't sure when Savage figured out how to make a medium's circle work through electricity, which is a clever trick, but then again, he is immortal. Savage has had time to learn all sorts of medium's tricks and probably invent a whole new set of them.
And he has Mick.
Len grits his teeth and heads in.
There aren't any ghosts; that's the first thing he notes. There should be a lot – prisons are violent places, filled with death and despair, and Len can't imagine maximum security gulags are noticeably better. That means they're keeping the ghosts somewhere further inside.
Unfortunately, Yuri's information showed that the main control panel is further inside, too.
Len wheels in a fake hospital bed as his cover.
"What's wrong with him?" a guard grunts.
"Smallpox," Len replies.
"What?" the guard asks, frowning at him.
Len consults his mental watch and mentally curses. This is a great time for the babelfish's timer to run out – either Gideon or Rip ought've reminded him, but, of course, they didn't.
It’s fine, though; Len can speak a bit of Russian, albeit with his usual Central City accent making it very clear that he's American. Thank heaven for a well-rounded prison education. Old Vanya from Iron Heights is probably grinning at Len from wherever he'd long since passed on to, happy that his lessons are finally being used. He'd been alive when he'd taught Len, and had been almost entirely unsurprised about Len's abilities for the exceedingly brief period he'd been a ghost afterwards.
Ray expressed surprise at Len speaking more than one language, when they'd argued over whether or not Len needed the full-out babelfish verion, wondering at how Len had learned something like additional languages when he'd dropped out of school so early, but honestly Len is starting to get used to Ray's clueless knee-jerk classism by now.
"Smallpox," Len says, in Russian this time. He keeps his voice raspy to try to hide the American accent. "You stupid or something? You don't know what it's called in English? Everyone should know what it is in case they start dropping bombs with it. Isn't that why they want the body?"
The guard looks alarmed, but he lets Len pass through without paying too much attention, clearly far more intent on passing on gossip to his fellow guards about what the prison's mysterious facility is actually being used for.
Ah, prison gossip. Never changes, no matter what nation.
Len can hear the ghosts, now, as he gets closer. The background hum never faded away entirely, not like it had with the glass in his head, but it'd been quieter than he'd liked it to be. Either way, the quiet is gone: somewhere up ahead there are a lot of ghosts.
Len reflects momentarily on his mother's advice that he avoid large groups of ghosts and his apparent inability to do so, but puts that aside. He's got Mick to rescue; that trumps everything.
He makes the next turn.
"Snart?" a familiar voice asks, far too loudly. "Is that you?"
Ray.
Len risks a glance. No one else around.
He turns. Ray's in a cell, looking excited to see him, albeit still mostly reclining. He's fine but for a few bruises – a fairly standard welcome-to-the-yard beatdown, if Len knows his prison beatings (and he does), something more intended to humiliate than to seriously hurt. They must not have started in with the serious torture yet - that, or they decided that Ray wasn't necessary for it.
"It is you!" Ray exclaims, clearly delighted.
"Shut up," Len hisses. "Where's Mick? And Stein?"
"They took them to the main room," Ray says. "Stein because of Firestorm, and Mick – I don't know why. It was after they drew blood from us."
Len's never seen Mick's blood under a microscope, even though he knows Mick can summon up a blood splatter like a pro. Ghosts, especially powerful ones, can mimic blood anywhere they want – on walls, in mirrors, and, in Mick's case, to pretend they're human.
Still, there must have been some sign in the blood that identified him. Len will have to take care of that in the future when Mick is back by his side.
He refuses to think of that as an 'if'.
"Here," Len says, pulling Ray's shrunken armor from his pocket and tossing it over. "Put that on. I need you to go back to the ship and bring Jax and an EMP – it's my fall-back plan if I can't cut the lights."
"Got it," Ray says, nodding. "Uh – why are we cutting the lights?"
"We need to escape once we're all free," Len explains, glad he'd thought of a cover story that wouldn’t involve needless amounts of explanation. No way he's mentioning ghosts in the middle of a prison, with all of its superstious inmates potentially eavesdropping. He can explain the whole medium's circle thing when they're back on the ship. "Cutting the lights will cause chaos and help cover our tracks."
"Got it!"
"Oh, and once you've alerted the ship and gotten what we need –" Len already told Jax about the EMP, but Ray stands a better chance of convincing Rip about the necessity. "— you should go find Sara. She's in here, too, looking for Stein and Mick; she'll appreciate the back-up."
Be less likely to murder in front of an audience, Len means.
Ray nods seriously. "Good luck and be careful," he says. "One of the guys was talking about stringing us up and hitting us with bats until our ribs broke, earlier on, before Savage arrived and decided to do something different."
"Glad we made it here first," Len says, and continues on his way.
"Hey, you," a big guy from a few cells down – one of the few still alert at this hour. His accent is deep, but he's using English, just like Len and Ray had been. "Amerikanski. You letting your friend go? How about rest of us?"
Len looks at him. Big, alert, possibly smart, but there's no way to tell his position in the prison hierarchy at a glance. Still, worth a shot. "I'm going to cut the power," he says. "The doors are wired; they ought to open when that happens. If you could see about some people raiding the interior, where the scientists are – "
"They experiment on inmates," the guy says. "We will be happy to help."
"Make sure there aren't any circles painted anywhere," Len advises him. "It's their leader's symbol."
The guy growls. "We will destroy," he promises. "How did you come in?"
"Bratva. Yuri, third precinct."
"He is good man," the guy says. "What is your name?"
"Leonard Snart," Len says, figuring there's no harm in getting some points in while he's at it. "Not Lewis; he's my good-for-nothing brother and a rat. Central City, US. His kid's good, though; same name as me."
The guy nods. "We will owe you if you release us."
"I promise nothing," Len says. "But I'll aim to."
With that, he continues forward.
He's just ditched the cart and ducked into the electricity control room when he hears them.
"— certainly less useful than we might have hoped." It's Savage.
"You still should have told me!" Vostok exclaims. "You led me to believe that the man on fire was our target – all of my work has been focused on replicating his abilities –"
"Yes, it has," Savage says, indifferent to her annoyance. "And correctly so. I knew it would either be a scientific marvel or a unique expression of necromancy, and it would only be possible to recreate it even in part if it was the former. When I first saw him, for a brief moment I thought that the spirit of vengeance had crossed the barrier to take form once more – but no. Merely a man, albeit an unusually stubborn one."
She snorts. "Oh, indeed. And what of other one? There is something off about him, other than the fact that his blood type is chimerical."
Savage laughs. "Oh, yes. The other one. The other one you are to leave to me..."
There's a muffled sound.
Len's need to know overwhelms his good judgment and he sneaks out for a look.
There's another containment unit, this time even more filled with ghosts, whirling with rage so thick that Len can see nothing but white lightning inside the glass. The unit has no markings, Len notes distantly; the ghosts are being held in by the electric circuit, magically enhanced. He'd assumed as much, but this is far, far worse than he'd ever thought. Savage and Vostok are shoving them in without the slightest care for space.
He doesn't really pay much attention, though: his attention is capture by a second circle, drawn in paint on the floor.
Mick is there.
Mick is chained down in there, snarling viciously as he can through the gag they've put on him.
Savage reaches into the circle and strokes Mick's cheek. "Now, now," he croons. "My little savage one, don't tire yourself out so much – or I will press these accouterments onto your very soul, and you will bear them for the remainder of your miserable existence."
Len, safe above, shudders.
Mick, captured below, merely snarls.
"Once your will is broken, you will be a fine addition to my collection," Savage says thoughtfully. "I have never seen a spirit as strong as you – tell me, what special use does the necromancer get out of you, that he empowers you so?"
Mick manages to convey, through the gag, his opinion of Savage's lineage.
Savage laughs. "You think you will not break? Oh, but you will – and even in the unlikely event that you do not, I will merely devour you." Then he smiles. "But not before you have lured in my dear Chay-Ara – and your necromancer."
Len is not a necromancer, damnit.
Mick rolls his eyes and garbles something that sounds remarkably similar.
Vostok has been busy in the meantime with Stein, who is handcuffed to a chair. "This one still refuses to talk," she says, nodding at the barely conscious man. They haven't let him rest; that much is clear - he keeps blinking his eyes as though falling asleep. "But no matter – the results of my test of his blood have shown me much. I may have a workable prototype within the hour."
"Do not give me your scientists' estimate, Valentina," Savage replies. "I know they are padded. Do you have the serum ready?"
"Soon," she says, but she's not looking at Savage when she says it. She does have it ready, and she plans to use it soon, too. She was offended by the revelation that he kept information from her, and she's responding by keeping information from him - she intends for the new Soviet Firestorm to be her victory, not his.
Great. Now it's up to Len to fix the future.
Luckily, he has a plan.
Len creeps back to the electric controls. He'd been planning on a staggered breakout – Mick first, then ghosts, then the prisoners for an added bit of chaos – but Mick's circle is paint, not electricity. He'll have to go in personally to break that.
Great.
Len activates the comms. "Jax, you copy?" he asks.
"Loud and clear, boss. What do you want me to do?"
Len smirks, and tells him.
It takes him about ten minutes to get into the controls. During those ten minutes, Vostok goads Stein and Savage does something to Mick, something that makes Mick roar in pain – actual pain! for Mick! – but Len can't think of that now.
He stores it in the back of his mind for later, once they have a satisfactory plan to kill Savage and make him pay.
For now, he thanks his eclectic education for teaching him all about electric circuits in the 1980s – and about how fragile they could be if you treated them just right.
Len sets them to overload.
“I have the shot,” Sara says through the comms.
Len snarls and sets his comm to a wider frequency – one that includes more than just him, Rip and Sara. “Sorry, didn’t catch that,” he lies.
“I have the shot,” Sara repeats.
“Good,” Rip says. “Good luck, Miss Lance."
“Wait, what shot?” Kendra asks, just like Len’d hoped she would. “Who are we shooting? Savage? Does that make sense if I’m not the one doing the shooting?”
“Uh,” Sara says.
“Don’t do it, Sara,” Len says. “You’re not a killer, right? You’re a hero. Isn’t that right, Kendra?”
“Of course she is,” Kendra says, puzzled. “Sara’s a great hero – and I’ve met Barry and Oliver.”
“Shit,” Sara says. “I can’t do it.”
“Miss Lance!” Rip exclaims.
“No, Snart's right. That’s not who I am anymore,” Sara says. “Snart - Leonard. Tell me you have a plan.”
“Ray and Jax are enacting it now,” Len reports. “All I need is for you guys to cover our exit.”
“Miss Lance –”
“I’m on it. Shut up, Rip; I can always shoot ‘em later.”
“I think I missed something,” Kendra says.
“Don’t worry about it.” Len says soothingly. “Kendra, can you fly by the right side of the building, as close as you can to the wall?”
“Sure. Will do.”
As Len had hoped, Savage’s head jerks up when Kendra does her fly-by. “She’s near,” he says, “Chay-Ara, my love…”
“What are you talking about?” Vostok asks him, turning to face him.
Turning, just as Len had hoped, away from the stairs – and the increasingly urgent flashes on the computer screen indicating an imminent overload.
The first transistor blows – literally – as Len creeps down the stairs.
"What's going on?" Vostok demands, spinning around and rushing to the computers.
"This is a rescue attempt," Savage says with satisfaction. "Soon, our necromancer will come to us -"
There's a roar of noise that doesn't come from electricity, making Savage frown. "What's that?"
"The prisoners!" Vostok gasps, recognizing the sound of feet and fists and angry voices faster than Savage. "He's released the prisoners!"
"No matter – they will head outside and scatter –"
There's a banging on the door to the lab.
Savage frowns deeper. He wasn't expecting them to be angry enough to attack - clearly, he's been spending too much of his immortal time shadowing powerful men, and not enough time studying mobs. “How secure is that door?”
“It has an electric lock –” Vostok starts.
Len grins. “Now, Ray,” he mutters into his comm.
The skylight crashes as something is dropped from a height.
Savage and Vostok spin around to look, only to spin back around as the EMP blast from the falling bomb shorts out everything in the room, sending it black for a moment.
That's when Ray in his suit comes flying down through the crack in the skylight, Jax in his arms.
The lights, now powered exclusively from the back-up generators Yuri mentioned as being too deep down to be affected by an EMP, flicker back on when Ray’s already half-way down from the ceiling.
"Don’t let him get close to the professor!" Savage roars.
Vostok grabs a gun and shoots at Ray. Ray promptly drops Jax.
Gravity does what gravity does, and brings Jax down right where his partner is sitting.
They merge in mid-air, the show-offs.
"Get them!" Savage shouts.
"Screw you," Jax says, and throws a fireball at him.
"Get the door open," Len hisses in to the comms, slithering through the lab to get to Mick. "Ray!"
"On it!"
Ray blasts the now-unlocked door open, and suddenly there's a lot of prisoners. Very angry prisoners.
"No!" Vostok shrieks.
Len makes it to Mick. "Want a ride out?"
Mick's eyes flare white and the gag around his mouth dissolves in flame. He could have done it the whole time – damn overdramatic poltergeists. "You can't break the circle," he says. "It's designed to trap a ghost inside and to drain life from any living person who enters or tries to break it except Savage."
"Shit. How quick does it drain life?"
"What do you mean?"
Len looks over at the containment unit, where the ghosts are raging.
Mick follows his gaze. "Uh," he says, abruptly realizing what Len's thinking. "Yeah, that might work, what with them being unliving but on the outside of the circle and all."
"Good."
Len uses his cold gun on the door, then throws a nearby book at it, shattering it.
And then the ghosts are free – unbound by electricity, unbound by the unit, and backed by Len, who's handing out life left and right. They howl as they rip through the building.
"Holy crap!" Ray shouts as the whole structure of the prison starts to collapse around him.
"Evac time! Everyone!" Jax shouts.
The prisoners don't see the ghosts – Len hasn't given them enough to be visible, since he needs them to focus on ripping things to shreds – but they see the walls collapse. They just don't care, their angry hands grabbing at the guards, at the doctors, at Vostok, pulling them down into the mob.
"Some of you, come here, wreck this circle on the floor," Len commands, his back straightening, his shoulders loosening, his voice echoing with reverberations in the air. He's calm, now; he doesn't even know why he was so stressed and worried before. After all, the ghosts are with him, the armies of the dead – what has he to fear?
None can stand against him, with them on his side.
"Well done," a voice gurgles from behind Len, causing him to spin around, gun at ready.
It's Savage, his face half-burned from one of Firestorm's blasts.
Len hopes it hurts, even if though it might not kill him.
"You got through my traps," Savage continues, eyes fixed on Len. "You are more powerful than I believed."
"Smarter, too," Len drawls, taking a step forward. "Don't forget that. If you ever take any action against me and mine, you'll pay for it in pain."
"Brave words," Savage replies mockingly.
"Hardly brave," Len scoffs. "The armies of the dead stand with me. And I'll turn them against you, medium – "
Mick's hand closes over Len's ankle. He's saying something, but Len can't hear him, he's too busy staring at Savage. At the man who dared to take Mick from him, dared to trap Mick somewhere, when Mick should always fly free, free and at Len's side – oh no, whatever Mick might have to say about it, Len is going to hurt this man – he's going to make sure that no one ever thinks to do anything like that ever again -
"Oh, yes, hate me, loathe me," Savage crows. "Do your worst against me, and I will live on, unlike any of your precious dead – so just try it on me, necromancer – "
Len's lips pull back into a snarl and he reaches inside of him for life, for the power to –
Wait.
"For the last fucking time," Len snaps, his voice abruptly back to normal. "I am not a necromancer!"
"Oh, thank god, you're back," Mick says, audibly this time, and throws a crate at Savage, knocking the other man ass over elbows back into the mob as the building falls on them.
Len blinks, feeling strangely disoriented all of a sudden. "Mick," he starts. "What happened -"
"Not now," Mick says. "Ray! Get Len back to the ship! He hit his head!"
Len did not hit his head!
Ray swoops down and grabs Len into his arms, damsel-in-dress style, before Len can properly protest.
“I’ll meet you at the ship!” Mick shouts. “Go!”
“Wait, but –” Len starts
Ray goes, and Len unwillingly goes with him.
Len scowls.
He’s going to get Mick for this one.
17 notes · View notes
tyranttortoise · 7 years
Note
So this is something I kinda wanna put into my own fic but I angsted so hard I wanted to see what your take on it was: What if soulmates were a thing, like monsters knew who their soul mate was if they met them. Their current S/O finds out about soulmates and either wasn't told they were the soulmate or they aren't the soulmate and start to panic because what will happen if their monster leaves them. Skele bros UT, UF, US, SF, or whoever.
*You discover that there’s such a thing as monster soulmates, someone with such a strong soul resonance with someone else, that there’s practically a magnetic pull.  
Every monster has one.  And you’re currently dating a skeleton monster.
However, he’s never told you that you’re his soulmate.  
One day, you turn to your significant other and ask him the burning question on your mind:  
“Are we soulmates?”
UT!Sans:
The moment the query blurts past your lips, you wish you could take the words back and shove them down your own throat.  Sans stiffens beside you, though his eyelights never leave the glow of the television screen.
You feel you eyes begin to burn.  
“We’re not, are we?”  It sounds dead-pan, more of a statement than a question.  You’ve grown to love this skeleton; you’ve been together with him for over a year, and you just moved in with him and his brother.
He sucks in a deep breath, but still refuses to meet your gaze.  "no.“
The world crashes around you; your chest feels tight–so tight–that it’s becoming more and more difficult to breathe.  Your hand twitches, aching to find comfort in his, but you can’t right now.  "Then what are we doing?”
He sighs, and when he finally looks at you and sees your glassy eyes and trembling lower lip, his expression falls.  "what are you talkin’ about, kiddo?  where’d you even hear about soulmates?“
“You’re not the only monster I know, Sans,” you reply, a touch more tersely than intended.  "I-I’m talking about the fact… the fact that you’re going to leave me when your soulmate comes along.“
"what?  no, i’m not.”  Sans runs a hand over the top of his skull, bone scraping against bone.  
“Of course you are!  Why wouldn’t you?”
“look–love,” he sounds exasperated, “do you know the probability of a monster finding their ‘soulmate’?  it’s slim.  a soul has to resonate just right.  it’s not really something you’re born with–it depends on the state of your soul, and if it lines up to another person’s perfectly.  not everyone finds their soulmate.”
*and with the state of my soul… what are the chances i’d ever find mine?
He shakes the thought from his head and reaches over, entwining his fingers with yours.
You start to waver.  "So, you’re not going to suddenly resonate with someone on the street and ditch me?“
"are you kidding?  that’ll never happen.  who are you, jerry?”  
Your chest starts to feel lighter, and you offer him a small smile.  "Promise?“
Sans is quiet for a long moment, staring you directly in the eyes.  Finally, he squeezes your hand, his thumb rubbing along the back of it.  "yeah, i promise.”
A year later, he’s walking hand-in-hand with you back home.  You’re talking to Papyrus, smiling and joking over something he’s excited to tell you about, and Sans…
Sans resonates with a human that walks past, someone that takes his breath away and makes his SOUL ache, pulsing with longing the further away they walk.  The human pauses for a moment, looking around, one hand coming up to their chest to rub the heel of their palm against their sternum.  They mistake the feeling for acid reflux, but for a monster…
The ache is hell.
“Sans?”  
He didn’t realize he had stopped walking until he turned to meet your worried gaze.  "sorry.  thought i saw someone i used to work with,“ he covers easily, hiding the pain in his chest behind a practiced smile, before aiming a pun at Papyrus.  
He keeps his promise.  
UT!Papyrus:
"OF COURSE WE’RE SOULMATES!”
You stare, not expecting that response, and search his expression.  He doesn’t hesitate, and he doesn’t seem to be saying that to placate you, either.  He’s being honest.  "We are?“
"DATEMATE, I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT MY STANDARDS ARE VERY HIGH!  SO HIGH, IN FACT, THAT ONLY A SOULMATE WOULD BE ABLE TO MEET THEM!”  His smile is all the reassurance you need, and you begin to wonder if the way he makes your heart flutter in your chest is your own possible resonance.  It puts your mind completely at ease.
Papyrus believed his own words; he had never felt the pull of a soulmate, so he thought that his feelings for you were the same thing.  However, years down the line, he’d become friends with a monster at work, someone that he felt a sharp pain in his chest when he was away from, and that makes his SOUL soar when he’s close to them.  The monster ends up explaining that they’re his soulmate–they feel the resonance, too.  
Papyrus becomes conflicted.  On one hand, he promised you that you were his soulmate, but on the other…
He’s never felt like this before; the resonance is strong.  
It wears on him, but he’s terrible at lying and keeping secrets, so he ends up telling you the truth, that he was mistaken.  And in the same breath, he breaks up with you because “YOU’RE THE GREATEST PERSON I’VE EVER MET, AND YOU DESERVE SOMEONE EQUALLY GREAT, SOMEONE THAT CAN GIVE YOU THEIR EVERYTHING–HEART AND SOUL.  YOU HAVE MY HEART, MY LOVE, BUT… I’M SORRY.  MY SOUL WILL ALWAYS FEEL THIS PULL, AND THAT’S… NOT FAIR TO YOU.  SO PLEASE… FORGIVE ME, BUT WE MUST BREAK UP.”
UF!Sans:
“soulmates?  pfft, who’ve ya been talkin’ to, sweetheart?”  Red waves a flippant hand.  "soulmates are so rare they’re practically made up.“
"But they do exist, right?  And we’re not soulmates?”   He’s so relaxed about it that you aren’t freaking out as much as you thought you’d be.
He pulls you into his lap.  "none of that shit matters. i ain’t lettin’ the universe tell me who to be with,“ he resolutely states, nuzzling his sharp teeth against your neck.  
You lean to the side, pulling away from the tickle of his breath.  He always has known just how to distract you.  "But what if you ran into your soul mate?  What then?”
“ain’t gonna happen, so it doesn’t matter.  stop worryin’ so much over ‘what ifs’, doll.”  His teeth graze your skin, and his voice drops to a low growl.  "jus’ focus on the here and now.  now, i’m gonna make ya forget this nonsense, right here on this couch.“
Two months pass before Red meets his soulmate, while drunkenly dancing to a newly-fixed jukebox at Grillby’s while you’re at work.  He doesn’t even try to fight the resonance and ends up marking them in a supply closet.  He feels guilty the next day when he sees you, and tries to hide it at first, but… ultimately, he’s sneaking off late at night and acting shady, so you confront him about his strange actions and he ends up confessing everything and breaking up with you.      
UF!Papyrus:
"NO, WE’RE NOT SOULMATES.”  Edge has a hardness to his tone and a deep scowl to match.
“Oh.”  You feel your heart instantly sink. “We’re not?”
Edge huffs, crossing his arms at the quietness of your voice.  "I DON’T KNOW WHO EVEN TOLD YOU ABOUT SOULMATES, BUT THAT NONSENSE DOESN’T MATTER.  I KNOW WHO’S THE BEST MATE FOR ME!  AND YOU, HUMAN, HAPPEN TO MEET ALL OF THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS’S IMPOSSIBLE STANDARDS!“  
You start to protest, even though him actually saying that does help assuage your fears. However, he grips your chin between his gloved fingers before you can get the words out.  Edge leans in, his eyelights bright pinpricks locked directly on your gaze.  
"DON’T.”  His voice is firm, yet gentle.  Your jaw clicks shut.  "GOOD.  YOU HAVE MY WORD THAT YOU NEVER HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT SOMETHING AS TRIVIAL AS A SOUL RESONANCE.  I’VE MADE MY DECISION, AND THE PERSON THAT HOLDS MY HEART AND SOUL IS YOU.  YOU’D DO BEST TO REMEMBER IT WELL.“
Edge never lets on that he’s already met his soulmate; he knows exactly who they are–and that they’re too good for him, a married human with a heart of gold and children of their own.  He met them before he ever met you, and he decided not to intervene with their life.  
US!Sans:
"SOULMATES?  I’M NOT SURE… BUT I THINK WE MUST BE!  WHY ELSE WOULD I GET THIS FUNNY FEELING IN MY CHEST WHENEVER I’M AROUND YOU?”
Blueberry is sweet, and he brings up a good point.  Maybe that’s the resonance?  Maybe it’s as simple as that?
Still, you’re not entirely comforted.  "What if we’re not, though, and you meet your soulmate… and leave?  I’m not here to be a placeholder romance.“
His expression is aghast.  "YOU’RE NOT!  I WOULD NEVER TREAT YOU THAT WAY!  AND I WOULDN’T LEAVE YOU BECAUSE NO ONE ELSE CAN TRUMP MY FEELINGS FOR YOU!”  He squeezes your hands.  "I LOVE YOU!  YOU’RE THE ONE I WANT TO SPEND FOREVER WITH!!  NO ONE ELSE!!“
True to his word, when Blueberry finally meets his soulmate, he doesn’t act on it.  In fact, he does whatever he can to put as much distance between them and him as possible– which involves spontaneously moving.  He doesn’t want to worry you, so he doesn’t tell you the reason, instead calling it "AN ADVENTURE BECAUSE THERE’S SO MUCH OF THE SURFACE I HAVE YET TO SEE!”
With enough distance, the resonance disappears completely, eliminating the ache in his SOUL and allowing him to focus completely on what matters the most to him–you.    
US!Papyrus:
“nah, we’re not soulmates.  but who cares?”  
Stretch’s response is as nonchalant as the hand he waves toward you, smoke curling from the lit end of his cigarette.  You’re confused.  "Isn’t that an important thing to monsters?“
He shrugs.  "it can be, but… having something like that chosen just because of some sort of 'resonance’ doesn’t sit well with me.  i make my own choices.”  His eyelights shift toward you, searching your expression.  "what?  are you afraid i’ll find my soulmate and kick you to the curb?“
You can’t help but nod, your eyes burning.  Yes, that’s exactly what you’re afraid will happen.  "Won’t you?”
“’s not gonna happen.”  He’s completely unconcerned as he sets his cigarette in the ashtray and slides close enough to wrap his arm around you.  
“But wouldn’t you rather be with your soulmate?”  
“nope. i love you.  there’s no hypothetical situation where i’m gonna leave you just because my soul 'resonates’ with some stranger.”  His fingers slide into your hair, his palms cupping your cheeks.  "so don’t worry about it, ok?“
And the way he looks at you makes you trust him completely.  You nod and kiss him, forgetting all about the soulmate conversation, even if you wonder with every new person he meets, if one of them could be his soulmate.  
Years pass by, and eventually, he starts staying out later and later at Muffet’s.  The few times that you go with him, you see his eyelights linger on a waitress, but when you blink, he’s looking back at you with his usual lazy grin and reaching out to hold your hand.  You convince yourself you imagine it.  
Stretch never acts on the resonance with the waitress, but drinking numbs the ache from being apart.  
SF!Sans:
"O-OF COURSE WE ARE!!  THE GREAT AND MALEVOLENT SANS WOULD NEVER TAKE A LOWLY HUMAN FOR A MATE UNLESS THEY WERE HIS SOULMATE!”
Blackberry is adamant that you’re his soulmate, spatting the words at you as if it should have been obvious.  You believe him because he makes a good point; he’s made it perfectly clear that he thinks of most humans as “LOWLY WORMS”, and yet he romantically pursued you.  That means there has to be some kind of resonance there, right?
In truth, Blackberry’s soulmate refused him so adamantly that the resonance snapped after he and Rus locked them in their shed Underground.  With soulmates, there is the potential for multiple people to resonate–there’s more than one true soulmate, especially when human souls come into play–but Blackberry was so downtrodden after the mishap that his SOUL closed off from resonance.  While it might be possible to resonate with someone else, Blackberry keeps insisting that you’re his soulmate and remains faithful, never so much as considering anyone else.  
SF!Papyrus:
“nope.”
Rus is straight and to the point as he smokes a dog treat and watches your expression carefully.  
“So… what are we doing then?” you ask carefully.
“datin’?  least, that’s what it seems like to me.”
“No, I know that.  But if we’re not soulmates…why are we dating?”
He’s quiet as he stares, obviously trying to find something in your expression, but you’re not sure what.  Slowly, he blows out a puff of violet smoke and shrugs.  "why not?  most monsters don’t find their soulmate.  i care 'bout you, ya care about me–that’s hard enough to find as it is.“  His skull tilts ever so slightly, and he steps closer.  "do ya wanna break up jus’ because you’re afraid i’ll leave?”  
You hesitate.
“ya really think that’s worth breakin’ up over?”
*darlin’, i’m always afraid you’re gonna wise up and leave me.  yet, i haven’t broken up jus’ because i’m scared.
But he doesn’t voice that.  Instead, he watches as you slowly shake your head.  "No… I don’t want to break up, Rus.  But I don’t want to fall even deeper in love with you if you’re going to break my heart.“
He reaches out and snags you by the arm, tugging you against his chest.  He wraps you up tight in his arms and murmurs against the top of your head, "i can promise ya, darlin’–that ain’t gonna happen.”
Rus keeps his promise.  By the time he feels the tug at his SOUL toward another, he ignores it completely.  He’s already got everything he wants in you, and he considers that sheer luck.  He’s not about to mess up his shot at happiness by chasing someone else.  
(* Mobile Imagine Masterlist  )
808 notes · View notes
indigo-night-wisp · 7 years
Text
The Queen of I-75
(OR: This Never Would Have Happened at Dairy Queen)
---So uh, there is historical precedent that says the easiest way to get me to write something for you is to shower me with compliments and then drop a prompt on me while batting your eyelashes, so... this is @queensandkingsofattolia‘s fault (with a bit of @wolf-thecontradictorysentence as well). based on/inspired by this post
I wrote almost 2000 words in a little under 5 hours while working my customer service job, so here, enjoy this customer service AU in which no customers are served.
Irene has been the manager of the McDonald’s on the I-75 exit since she was 17 years old, and if Nahuseresh thinks he’s going to take over this restaurant like he did the Long John Silver’s across the way, he’s got another thing coming.
She stares into Kamet’s longsuffering face and says, “Does he think I like you better or something? I’m still not signing anything for him.”
Kamet doesn’t look like he thinks anyone likes him at all, much less that they could like him more than his charming, handsome boss. “He just wanted me to deliver a message,” he says tiredly. Kamet doesn’t get paid enough for this. Kamet doesn’t get paid enough for the job he was actually hired to do, which was frying hushpuppies. Playing messenger in Nahuseresh’s game of fast food corporate intrigue was never in the paperwork.
“Speak,” Irene commands.
“He’s going over your head if you don’t sign within the week,” Kamet recites. “Your boss will agree even if you don’t.”
Irene narrows her eyes at him. She only enjoys it a little bit when he flinches. “Tell him I’ll think about it,” she says finally. Visibly relieved, Kamet backs away from the counter and leaves the restaurant through the kitchen.
“Teleus,” she says.
“Ma’am.” He’s 5 years older than she is, but Teleus will call Irene ma’am until the day he dies, probably. It’s an honorific he gives literally no one else. He’d die before saying, “Sir.”
“Don’t let anyone burn the place down,” she tells him. “I need to talk to Relius.”
Relius is sitting on top of the safe in the cash office, meditating. “We’re going to lose the restaurant,” Irene tells him, pacing back and forth furiously.
“Well,” Relius says after a moment, opening his eyes. “With that attitude.”
“What do I do?” Irene demands.
Relius breathes deeply. “Look inside your heart,” he suggests.
“I don’t think I can actually murder Nahuseresh,” she tells him. Relius shrugs.
“It’s an option,” he says.
Something clangs! in the front. Irene closes her eyes and then goes to see what disaster has happened this time.
Teleus is holding the arm of one of her best shake-makers, whose name Irene can’t exactly remember –Arrow, or something –but who is definitely an invaluable member of the team. He’s also fuming mad.
“Eugenides,” Teleus says darkly. Irene’s eyes blaze.
Eugenides is at the register, ringing up customers and filling drink orders like a pro. He’s in uniform.
“Arrow,” says Irene.
“Aris,” he corrects. Oops. Whatever.
“Go take over,” she orders, pinching the bridge of her nose. Aris goes, glaring at Eugenides, who offers a sunny smile as he comes to meet Irene.
“You don’t even work here,” she hisses at him when he’s in arm’s reach. She grabs his sleeve and hauls him to the back with her. He lets her manhandle him with a smirk. “Why do you always do this?”
“This” being stealing his roommate’s uniforms and coming in to work despite not being employed by McDonald’s. Any McDonald’s.
“I like smelling like McNuggets,” Gen says. He’s laughing at her with his eyes.
“You can’t work here!” Irene whisper-shouts.
“Discrimination!” Gen says, waving his prosthetic hand.
Irene sees red. “We didn’t refuse to hire you because you only have one hand!” she yells. “We didn’t hire you because you’re a menace! And you wouldn’t stop stealing the McFlurry Oreos.”
He won’t stop grinning. “You know you love me,” he says.
The awful truth of that statement sometimes. Irene grits her teeth and glares at her boyfriend. “I can’t let you work here while I’m the manager,” she says. “It would look like favoritism.”
“I can’t imagine that anyone would suspect that I’m your favorite,” he drawls. “Not with the way you treat me.”
“I don’t have time for this,” she snaps. “Nahuseresh is breathing down my neck, and I have to come up with a way to keep him from taking over this entire junction.”
Eugenides sobers. “I could–”
“No,” she says. “I can do this.”
Eugenides snorts. “Of course you can. But you don’t have to do it alone.”
It’s weird, it can’t be real, how just hearing him say that feels like a weight lifting. She doesn’t need his help, but if she did…
“You should leave poor Costis’ uniforms alone,” she says instead of thanking him.
Eugenides’ eyes are bright, like he’s laughing, like he’s happy. “Where’s the fun in that?” he asks.
~~~
Nahuseresh has been trying to convince Irene to sign the running of the I-75 McDonald’s over to him for 3 months. He gets more annoying with every conversation she is forced to have with him.
“You can’t run a restaurant on a crew of three people,” she seethes into the phone. “Even a fast food restaurant. It’s just not going to work. Not if you want good service and edible food.”
“But my dear, paying a full crew the wage you propose for every shift is impossible! There’s no way you can sustain that!” His voice sounds like an oil spill.
“We’ve managed it fine so far,” she says coolly. She fought too long and too hard to run a full crew at a decent wage to give him any ground. She can’t let Nahuseresh win. He’ll gut her team and pay what’s left less than minimum if he can.
Irene is a little worried about how the team at Long John Silver’s across the freeway is doing. Kamet always looks a little unhinged when he comes through. Underpaid and overworked employees are not a good combination for a successful restaurant.
It’s not like Irene feels particularly loyal to McDonald’s, but she does feel responsible for her team, and she’s a perfectionist, so half-assing the manager gig isn’t an option. She hangs up on Nahuseresh when the sleaze becomes too much to stomach and goes to find Teleus. He and Costis are arguing with the ice machine.
Well, Teleus is arguing. Costis is pleading.
“Please work,” he mutters, stroking its side. Teleus sees Irene and grunts.
“A woman yelled at him for giving her a drink without ice a few minutes ago,” he explains.
“There was a sign,” Costis moans. Irene pats his shoulder.
“Anyone yells at you about the ice, tell them they’re welcome to take it up with me,” she says. Teleus smirks.
“Ice queen,” he says. Even Costis cracks a smile at that one.
“And don’t you forget it,” Irene says. She needs to talk to Relius.
He isn’t in the back. Irene calls him and Eugenides picks up. “Relius is busy,” he says. There’s an echo to his voice and Irene can hear someone hollering in the background.
“Thief,” she calls him. “Stop stealing my people! First Costis, and now Relius?”
“I didn’t steal Costis,” Eugenides protests. “And if I did, I gave him back!”
“You can’t just steal my employees!”
“I’ll steal whoever’s employees I want,” Eugenides replies saucily. She can hear the laughter he’s trying to hold back.
“Eugenides!” Relius wails loudly.
“What are you doing?” Irene asks incredulously.
“Do you really want to know?” Gen asks.
Not really, to be honest. “No,” she says.
“What did you want Relius for?”
Actually. “Never mind,” she says. “I have an idea.”
~~~
“It’s cold,” Kamet complains. “And early.” He shivers theatrically. Irene hands him a fresh cup of McDonald’s coffee, black as night and strong as Costis. He sighs and accepts it. “What do you want? I could be sleeping.”
“Give me something on Nahuseresh,” Irene says. Kamet stares at her. She stares back, face like ice.
“Like what?” he asks.
“Something incriminating,” she says. “Embezzling, code dropping, unethical business practices. I know there’s something, and I want you to give it to me.”
Kamet’s mouth is a thin, hard line. “And you think… what? That you can buy me?”
“No,” says Irene. She taps her fingers on the rim of her coffee cup. “I think I can steal you.”
Kamet laughs. “Really? How are you going to do that?”
“With a living wage, for one thing,” Irene says dryly.
Kamet squints at her over his coffee lid. “Think,” she continues. “One way or another, Nahuseresh is going out of business. And then where will you be? Jobless, most likely, because if I have to resort to formalities, that restaurant is going to be shut down. But if you help me, you’ll have a job, and it’ll be in the office. No more frying and cooking. Just money and paper.”
“I thought you already had a paper man,” Kamet says suspiciously.
Irene has no idea when Relius will be back, and regardless, if he can be lured away so easily, he’ll take what he deserves and just have to get used to sharing his office.
“Now I have two,” she says.
Kamet wavers. Irene plays her trump card.
“Costis is worried about you.”
He gnaws his lower lip. “I can look into the books. There’s this guy in the kitchen at Long John’s. He told me he thought Nahuseresh had been messing with the time clocks. I’ll start there. Promise I’ll have a job when this is over?”
“I swear,” says Irene, “on Costis’ honor.”
~~~
About a week later, Kamet comes out of the back office just in time to watch Gen pretend his hand has been cut off by the potato slicer.
“What the –you!” Kamet exclaims.
“Eugenides, that is disgusting,” Teleus says calmly. “Now wash that slicer and then get out of my kitchen.”
“You!” Kamet repeats, dumbfounded.
Irene starts paying attention and gives Eugenides a suspicious looks. “You two know each other?”
Eugenides looks innocent, which means he isn’t. “Sometimes I worked at Long John Silver’s,” he says.
“What?” Costis looks betrayed.
“Not anymore!” Gen assures him hastily. Costis aggressively makes a parfait and puts it in the fridge, pouting at Gen.
“Alright, everyone who actually works here,” Irene says, “back to work. You,” she grabs Eugenides by his good wrist, “come with me.” He follows her meekly to the store room.
“I told you I didn’t need you to fix it,” she says.
“I didn’t,” Eugenides insists. “You did.” He reaches up to brush her hair out of her face, pushing her McDonald’s cap off at the same time. “You did it all by yourself.”
Irene gives him a disappointed look. He winces. “Okay, so I dropped a few hints. But you did this, Irene.” He tips his head back to look into her face. “I wouldn’t have even thought to look for inconsistencies in Nahuseresh’s time books if you hadn’t been ranting about how he ran his crew ragged and they hardly got paid for the work.”
Irene glares, but she doesn’t really mean it. She’s been extremely busy for the past few days, managing both McDonald’s and Long John Silver’s until Nahuseresh’s replacement comes in next Monday. She had convinced him that retiring was better than jail and he had caved with bad grace, leaving her the undisputed ruler of the I-75 junction. Irene had tried to get Gen to help with the managing, but it turns out that he actually hates working in fast food when he’s being paid for it.
“You stole Relius,” she accuses.
“Ah,” Gen looks sheepish. “But I did put him back.”
She can’t help the look she’s giving him, knows it’s the strangest mix of smug and smitten, doesn’t care. “I won,” she says.
“Yep.” Gen lets her pull him in by the collar of his stolen uniform polo, lets her run her hands through his hair.
“I outsmarted the Fish,” she says.
“Yep.” His face is almost as smug as the one she’s trying not to show. “You know,” he adds, “this whole destroying someone else’s reign of tyranny thing? It’s really hot.”
“Yeah?” Irene says, arching an eyebrow.
He really does have a wicked grin. How does she like him this much?
“Oh yeah,” he says. “I’m lovin’ it.”
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dadvans · 7 years
Text
cocked & loaded [dwayne johnson/vin diesel]
okay, so if i were to write the academy award-winning and world peace-establishing screenplay where Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson and Vin Diesel slowly fall in love, this is what it would look like:
vin and dwayne would be bitter Rival Agents for an intelligence agency. both would be up for a Big Promotion.  they would both be working together (but against each other) on something something black market mafia.  the mafia would be involved.  they would be VERY CLOSE to cracking this case.  
whoever cracks the case gets the promotion! because things like this are always very clear-cut in movies.  and whoever gets the promotion is the Better Agent, and it’s settled forever.
what they don’t expect is when they finally go in to make the Big Bust on The Family is that the Big Players will still be at large--and there will be a BABY.  
the baby will fall into agency custody, and will require surveillance in a remote safehouse.
“i need YOU TWO to pretend and be this baby’s GAY DADS to protect the baby and keep The Family off our tail while we close in on them,” says Head Intelligence Captain Lupita Nyong’o.  
dwayne and vin and baby are begrudgingly moved to a suburb of provincetown, massachusetts. cut to shot of a FOR SALE sign being pulled down, a ford fusion hybrid pulling up behind a moving van.  dwayne and vin step out.  they are both wearing muscle shirts and mirror-lensed aviators.  dwayne grabs a baby bag, throws it over his shoulder.  vin grabs the car seat out of the back, and both of them walk-slow motion up the side walk to their new 800k beach house.  
here’s what they expect: passive aggressive co-existence for a couple of weeks, where they try to be the Better Dad in a bid for the promotion they both want.  dwayne will go jogging with the baby every morning!! vin will wear her in a sling when he goes to the farmer’s market and smiles at the vendors while feeling up avocados and selecting fresh caught filets of fish!! 
here’s what they don’t expect: their next door neighbors are going to be Channing Tatum and Idris Elba and their five beautiful, interracial babies.  they are the perfect Gay Family, but “also,” dwayne says, pushing vin inside from where he’s been grilling steaks and drinking MILLER out of a CAN in broad daylight for the Real Gay Family to see and call over from their patio!!! “these guys are the REAL DEAL.  they’re gonna know something’s up!  i know we’ve had our beef, but we gotta step our game up and work together if we’re gonna make this operation work.”  
“you’re right,” vin says.  he’s nodding, looking at a ground, but then up and meeting dwayne’s gaze. “you’re RIGHT.” they’re gonna make this partnership work!!! they are going to be the BEST GAY DADS.
CUT TO: vin and dwayne staring at the king sized mattress in the master bedroom.  “i can just--” vin says, but dwayne grabs him by the shoulder and shakes it playfully.  “no man,” he says. “it’s all in or nothing.” 
CUT TO: them jogging together with baby playfully squealing from her stroller early in the morning.  
CUT TO: vin playfully feeding dwayne grapes at the farmer’s market.  “it’s all or nothing,” he repeats, raising his eyebrows (???? eyebrow folds? idk man). dwayne rolls his eyes and TAKES THE BITE.  
CUT TO: channing tatum in monogrammed shorts and pink polo and boat shoes on their front door step with one of his many perfect, precious toddlers on his shoulders, asking them to dinner.  “uh yeah,” dwayne says, cool as a cucumber. he’s not freaking out (he’s totally freaking out!!).  “we’ll bring the wine.”
“we’ll bring the wine?” vin repeats, in a hushed voice so the neighbors and baby don’t hear them fighting. “do you know anything about wine? they probably have a second house in france!  i haven’t had anything that didn’t come from a box since--since ever! what were you thinking?” “i panicked!  it seemed like the right thing to say!” 
TIRES SCREECH as the ford focus hybrid drifts into the whole foods parking lot.  
they show up out of breath, foreheads glistening, with baby in her favorite babybjorn, feet kicking from the day’s excitement of wine shopping.  vin, wheezing, passes a bottle of red and a bottle of white.
“oh, a chateau coutet barsac,” idris says with a chuckle, showing the label to channing. “remember that time--?” and oh my GOD, they have inside jokes!! 
(”we don’t have any inside jokes!!” dwayne whispers when they immediately excuse themselves halfway through a tour of the house. “that’s because you are the least funny person i know!” vin replies. “god, i hate you!!!” they both probably hiss at each other.)
the worst and best part of the night is when they’re serving the roast veg salad, and channing says with the best intentions, “so, how did you two meet?”
“uh,” vin says.
“the gym,” dwayne says. which, actually turns out to be true.  they look at each other, smile soft and genuine for once at each other, REMEMBERING. before they were BITTER RIVALS, they met at the academy gym and were GYM BUDDIES.  they used to have FUN trying to beat each other’s PR on the treadmill, they used to LOVE shit talking each other when they spotted each other bench pressing, they used to snap towels at each other’s asses in the locker room and totally not check each other out or anything!!! and then they were both accepted to the same position at work and they stopped being friendly for whatever reason.  they stop smiling, they look away from each other.  “anyway.”
“we met building houses for habitat for humanity,” idris offers, because of COURSE THEY DID.
the second worst part of the night is when channing mentions during the dessert course that two weeks from now is the annual May Day Homeowner’s Neighborhood Block Party Crab Cookoff, and maybe dwayne and vin would like to host to get to know everyone else in the neighborhood! 
vin has had like, three more glasses of wine than everyone else, and with aid of liquid confidence, shrugs his shoulders and leans back in his chair and says, “yeah, man, we’d love to.”
“’yeah, man, we’d love to?’” dwayne repeats when they’re walking home, baby asleep in her bjorn. 
“sorry, did you want me to give ourselves away? what happened to being the best? we’re trying to be believable!” 
“yeah,” dwayne says, watching vin strip off his shirt and pants and toss them over his shoulder into their spare hamper before crawling into their bed.  it’s routine.  they both have their sides of the bed.  “believable.”
the bedroom is quiet as they face away from each other at the edges of the mattress.  eventually dwayne asks, “do you remember why we stopped being friends?”
for a second he thinks maybe vin’s gone to sleep.  but he turns over.  “no,” he says.  “or yeah, maybe. as soon as i realized we would both be seeing action, it became too much of a risk.  friendship.  it was easier to lose you as a friend on my terms than lose you as a friend because you got your dumbass killed.”
they decide to be friends again.  you know, for the baby.  for work. whatever.  
they get so caught up in planning the May Day Homeowner’s Neighborhood Block Party Crab Cookoff, making inside jokes and ignoring the increasing casual physical intimacy between them that they don’t realize they are BEING WATCHED.
the mafia is HERE and they want their BABY and they want dwayne and vin DEAD.  
the M.D.H.N.B.P.C.C happens and everything is going according to plan, and they are about to have dwayne judge the bisque portion of the competition, but no one has seen dwayne anywhere!!!!
are there warehouses in provincetown??? is there a bad part of provincetown??? anyways, that’s probably where the mafia took dwayne.  vin is FREAKING OUT, how does he save dwayne??? how does he protect the baby, who they are using dwayne as ransom for??? who will judge the bisque portion of the crab cookoff???
idris puts a hand on his shoulder.  he’s been watching the entire time.  “i’ll take the baby into our panic room--” OF COURSE THEY HAVE A PANIC ROOM, “and channing will judge the bisque portion of the crab cookofff.  you go save your man.”
CUT TO: vin getting geared up to go out and kick some mafia ass, entering their walk-in closet and grabbing GUNS and a BULLET PROOF VEST and lacing up his L.L BEAN MEN’S GORETEX LEATHER BOOTS.  
vin takes out the entire warehouse-or-whatever of mafia lackeys and comes across dwayne tied up and blindfolded.
“who’s there!” dwayne demands, like he’s ready to fight despite himself.  vin takes three strong steps forward and grabs him by the back of the head and pulls him in for a kiss.  “guess who,” he replies.  dwayne smiles.
just then the Final Boss shows up as dwayne is being untied and like, something dramatic happens or whatever, but it’s okay.  they die or go to jail or something, it doesn’t really matter, because dwayne and vin are in LOVE and they’re gonna adopt the hell out of that baby.
CUT TO: a month later.  Head Intelligence Captain Lupita Nyong’o is disappointed when vin won’t accept his promotion.  
“i would,” he says, heavily decorated for saving dwayne in the field and taking down the mafia family.  “but the code of conduct says that it would be a conflict of interest if i was my husband’s supervisor.” BAM! THE END.  THEY’RE MARRIED.  WORLD PEACE UNLOCKED.   DONALD TRUMP IMPEACHED.  EVERYONE LIVES HAPPILY EVER AFTER.
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