#but without the resources for a shitty hotel room

[factorialsotherfandoms]

TW: homeless children, sick children.

Pac is thirteen, and Mike is finally asleep. His best friend got sick a few days ago, the pair having been caught out in the rain. Pac had avoided the worst of it, only to be up all night anyway, keeping track of Mike's fevers.

It broke last night, but then they had had to run - the owner of the cafe they were sheltering behind had returned from her holiday, and released a pair of dogs to scare them off. Thankfully they did not get close to either child, but the running and the searching for another place to sleep had it return.

Maybe it would be better, to try and beg there way into the keeping of another orphanage?

... Pac takes four seconds to remember why that is a bad idea.

Mike whimpers, sweating more than their water supply allows for as he shifts under stolen blankets. Pac brushes his forehead, and gently, mentally shushes him.

Pac is thirteen, which means that Mike is eleven, which means that Pac has to be the one to look after them both.

The dogs? He would have fought them. When they steal? Pac is the distraction, the one starting a showpiece of a fight as Mike scoops up the bags. When they are sick?

When they are sick, Pac pretends he does not feel his own fever, and dedicates himself to looking after Mike.

He isn't really sure what to do, but he knows someone is supposed to watch people with fevers when they sleep. They don't have enough water to waste on wetting a rag, like people do in books, but he puts one on Mike's forehead nonetheless. Mike gets the blankets, and the cushion they found lying in a puddle, and the driest spot under the overhand. Pac, meanwhile, has scraps of fabric, and cold concrete, and a very sick best friend.

It is very hard to stay awake, sick and exhausted as he is from days of looking after Mike. He would give him the world - has given him the world - but it is very hard to keep his eyes open.

Pac needs to do something, else he will fall asleep. And he is not sure why that is bad, but he knows that it is.

... One of the bags they stole was not a bag at all, but a sewing box.

Inside are threads, and needles, and buttons, and little scissors and offcuts of larger pieces of fabric.

Really, Pac should use them to fix their clothes, or save them for when things are even worse. He remembers just enough of the right classes to know that both he and Mike have growth spurts still to hit, and that will mean needing to lengthen their clothes.

But...

Pac is thirteen, and Mike is eleven, and also in the sewing box are a couple of small glass circles, like teddy bear eyes.

Pac looks at the missing button on his coat, then looks at Mike, sleeping and distressed and reaching for something that is not there.

Pac picks up the fabric, and begins to sew.

Sewing is not one of his greatest skills, but Pac knows a little about it; when Sister Isabela has been in charge of discipline, she had tended to making him help her with repairs rather than the usual punishments. Pac had been in trouble a lot, and so he had learnt to fix many things - clothes and buttons and electrical sockets and plumbing and all sorts. He had not been allowed to help fix the gas stove, but he had been made to watch it happen.

Fixing things is not quite like making things, but... but Mike is eleven, so Pac has to look after him, and the books he learnt to read from say sick children are supposed to cuddle toys.

Pac thinks it might be wrong - even before his parents hated him, he did not get to cuddle toys, and the Nuns and the Priest certainly never gave them any. Still, he has no water to make the rags wet, and he needs to steal some energy drinks in the morning and force Mike to drink them, and it's late and if he does nothing he will fall asleep too.

So, he grabs the scraps of fabric, and the needles, and the thread, and does his best.

None of the scraps are the right shape, and he is scared to cut them. Working fabric in 3D is very different to flat, but Pac does his best. The head is two approximately round shapes stitched together, with bits poking out for ears. It has a body and two arms and two legs, even if all of the limbs are different sizes and the stitching stretches a bit too much. It is a patchwork of colours - and an actual patch where some of the fabric tore, Pac does know how to patch things - stuffed not with proper stuffing but instead the remaining fabric scraps.

It is an ugly, ugly thing.

Pac, desperate for some way to help, tucks it under the blankets with Mike anyway.

In feverish sleep Mike clings to it, and clings to Pac's sleeve too. In the morning, still sick, Mike holds it even tighter when Pac has to go.

Pac comes back to their camp with a bag of stolen energy drinks, and a few sandwiches grabbed from the same rack, to find that Mike has named her Alegria.

Alegria does not survive the winter.

But two boys do, and that is what matters in the end.

#qsmp pac #qsmp mike #qsmp tazercraft #qsmp fanfic #i wanted to mention mike still keeping the eyes from the bear in his pocket but it didn't flow nicely #so just have that #maybe pac doesn't know about it #i'll probably add this to an au on ao3 when i upload it in the morning #but for now it can be by itself #this is like the flip of that fic where mike was looking after sick pac #but without the resources for a shitty hotel room #also with the toy idea i mentioned earlier

[callsign-joyride]

Rules & Regulations | 0.1

Summary: You work in the human resources department at NAS North Island. A noise complaint at a hotel leads to some unexpected endeavors - and an ironic workplace romance.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader (no use of Y/N)

Content warnings: None yet

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

It felt like a quiet day at Naval Air Station North Island. You got to work at your usual time, but it didn’t take long to file away documents and send communications. As your lunch break rolled around, you went to Admiral Kazansky’s office. 

“Hey, Tom. How’s your family?” You asked.

“We talked four hours ago, you know how my family is. Sit down and tell me about your day so far.”

“Oh my God, there’s this Hangman guy. Almost all of the paperwork that I get is either for or about him, sometimes both. He’s just a Grade A asshole. It almost makes me want to meet him, though. You know, see how bad he really is.”

“You know, I used to be like that.”

“Oh, I know. There’s a bunch of lore about class of ‘86. Oh my God, we won’t be able to have our lunches together next week. I’m going to Hawaii with Nat for that awards ceremony but we’re getting there a few days before everyone else. Sure, we hang out like every night but we only have sleepovers when we’re drunk. And my neighbor is taking care of Viper so I don’t need to worry about getting a dog sitter or anything.”

You and Tom ate lunch together and said hi to the passing admirals. The lunch hour ended with you laying on the floor of his office, gossiping about other people on base. No one would’ve thought that Tom Kazansky lived for gossip, but it was one thing that you quickly found out when you started working at North Island. The rest of your day went along swimmingly, because nothing was really going on.

Before going home, you made a stop by the grocery store. Wednesday night dinners were a tradition between you and Natasha because you had been friends for so long and Wednesdays were the only nights that you were both free. You always cooked together while a random movie played in the background because it was hard for you to go about things without your background noise. This time, you had picked a horror movie. It was slightly out of the usual for nights with Natasha, because talking about shitty dates over people screaming probably wasn’t normal. 

“I’m so excited for Hawaii. I haven’t been there for fun in a long time,” Nat said as they sat down with their food.

“Me too. I went once for a Christmas vacation with this guy… It didn’t end well. Neither of us left but having to meet his family was awkward as hell and we didn’t really get along. Don’t go on vacations with dates if you’re gonna meet their entire family when you’re there. I would rather die than do that again.”

The two of you laughed over their glasses of wine and finished eating. You decided to turn on an old episode of Saturday Night Live while you talked on the couch. The ringing of your phone interrupted the moment.

“What could Admiral Kazansky want from you?” Natasha asked.

“It’s probably an HR thing. Let me take this.”

Because you answered the phone while walking up the stairs, it took you a minute to catch your breath. (You were always terrified to let Tom go to voicemail, even if it was an accident.) He started to talk almost immediately.

“I know you’re going to Hawaii with Lieutenant Trace for that awards ceremony, so what if I put you in a hotel room a few doors down from the rest of the Dagger Squad?”

“Wouldn’t that be a bad idea? I’d be off the clock so technically, I can’t be the one in charge of reports.”

“Oh, it would be the worst idea, but I need to know how bad these kids really are. You know how dramatic Maverick can be. I’m surprised he’s been able to last this long considering he barely lasted two months last time.”

You thought about it for a minute. What was the worst that could happen? Either way, you would still be able to gossip about the Dagger Squad with Tom. 

“Can I tell Nat?”

There was a moment of silence before Tom gave you permission to tell her, but he made sure to add that you had to tell her that she couldn’t tell anyone, either. 

“I’ll do it, then. Do you want me to text you updates during the trip or…?”

“No, don’t tell me anything until you get back. I don’t want you to have to worry about this stuff potentially becoming a formal report or anything like that.”

“Okay. Thanks, Tom.”

“You’re welcome.”

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick #rooster #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw series #x reader #reader insert #top gun #rules and regulations #hr girl

[rottingmanifesto]

Some writing I did for John, just to better get a feel for his style. Can’t say I adore it but I tried! Commentary > likes. Photo credit here.

March 12

It’s humid, hot, and stinks of that fucking river in-country. New Bordeaux, Louisiana— Bourbon City, playpen of Salvatore Marcano and his family (and not just in the mob sense). If I knew Lincoln wasn’t going to burn this city to the ground, I would do it myself. The rich residents have their blood filled with Marcano’s heroin or hate and the poor ones don’t stand a damn chance at social mobility. The American Dream might as well be a nightmare to half of the residents. Southern manners my ass.

The Father’s not a big fan of me, but unfortunately for him, I’m used to it, between here and the Company. At least he’s kind enough to let me set up shop here until I can find a better place, which really isn’t saying much in a shithole of a city like this. It’s either mob-owned hotels worth ¾ of my paycheck or shitty motels in hick-controlled Hollow. But I’ve had worse. As long as it’s not another backwater hellhole, I can bear it, no matter the outcome. Until then, it’s just me and the Padre. And Lincoln, when he comes back around. (It’s not an “if”, I know that much.) And when he does, I’ll be ready.

March 27

The Padre and I agreed on a schedule to keep things running in the house. He watches Lincoln in the mornings and nights, and I take midday and late night shifts. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve fallen asleep next to Linc on those late night shifts. Need to buy more coffee. The air is always stuffy in the Padre’s house (I blame Louisianan humidity) so we open up windows sometimes. Doesn’t seem to help.

Anyway, this paperwork is a goddamn maze already. If mobsters have got one thing right, it’s their dedication to pissing off federal agents. I’d almost admire it if I wasn’t one myself.

March 30

Christ, just how many rackets does this asshole have? I’ve spent 4 days straight solely on Sal’s capos— I haven’t even had the time to look into Sal himself yet. To his credit, he sure as hell knows how to allocate resources. Then I’m here, downing the Padre’s entire fucking coffee pot pouring over tax returns from 1962. Princeton education at work.

Current findings are relatively clear at least; Lou deals with pimping and drugs, Olivia gets her highs from fucking with the Southern Union (which I’m assuming is an offshoot of the Ku Klux Klan, though I can’t say for certain), and Tommy does just about anything he can find. Public face, Southern charm, middle management. Haven’t had the opportunity to look into Enzo Conti yet, but records indicate he’s the least dickish of the Marcano family. For starters, he’s not a Marcano. That’s already a plus in my book.

All that’s left after the intel-phase is writing up dossiers on all these fuckers. Not hard by any means, but might as well keep it brief for Lincoln’s sake. And my own sanity.

I also found a place just out of reach of the Dixie Mafia (racist southern assholes, albeit the “normal” variety) on the other side of the Hollow. Considering how many times the Padre has told me to go fuck myself, it’s probably for the best that I get a room sooner rather than later. It’ll be nice to smoke without someone reciting Psalms two rooms over for once. Goal is to set up a tac-op center in one room and have the room next door to sleep. No promises that I’ll ever use that room, but it’s the thought that counts.

On that note, Lincoln’s condition appears to be stabilizing over the past 2 weeks. He’s still unconscious for the most part but he’s breathing regularly. I always knew he was thick-skulled. He’ll pull through. No matter how long it takes, I’ll be here.

May 15

Just picked up information that Hoover’s fairy brigade has set up shop in New Bordeaux. Headed by some guy named Jonathan Maguire, sent here from DC to deal with the little Marcano situation. Late to the party (as always). Might pay them a visit, see what intel they’ve got already.

May 18

Finally managed to install a wire into the FBI’s tac-op center and steal their files. Really professional of them to leave it unattended, but then again, I’m the uncontrollable variable in this American experiment. So far, the files are mostly what I gathered already, but the background is sure-as-hell interesting.

1934 is the stuff of local legend. The FBI cites the “official” story as just usual mob bullshit— revenge for the murder of a family member— but there’s an issue. Sal could have gotten his father off the hook for the gambling debts if he wanted. He didn’t. What he actually wanted was to take over New Bordeaux’s increasingly divided crime underbelly. So, he used his old man’s death as a rallying cry for revenge, and then took over New Bordeaux with force and fear. Reason I bring this up; he doesn’t want his son to do the same thing he did.

June 6

Goddammit.

First it’s John Kennedy, then Martin Luther, now it’s Bobby Kennedy. How much longer will this happen? The hell is this country fighting for? The fuck do we believe in? What happened to liberty and justice for all? What happened to men being created equal?

Jesus fucking Christ, I need a smoke.

Padre was nice enough to offer me a drink. At least he believes in a better America for all. Only if more priests were like that. Then maybe things wouldn’t be like this. The Father isn’t keen on violence but at least he’s not fucking spineless.

At least Lincoln didn’t have to see this shit. That’s the one positive here. The only one.

#mafia 3 #john donovan #my writing

[hangovercurse]

Safe With Me

Colson notices somethings off with you in the studio, leading to a painful discovery.

Colson x reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of domestic abuse

A/N: If you are a victim of abuse, there are resources available for you. The National Domestic Violence Support Hotline is 1-800-799-SAFE (7233). 

Word Count:1271

masterlist

It was hard to focus on the conversation in front of you when you felt like you would collapse any second. You couldn’t tell the men in the room that you hadn’t slept in the past 24 hours, or that the bruise on your right side was making it hard to breathe. So you tried your best to fake interest.

“What do you think, Y/N?” Slim asked, and all three men looked up towards you.

You hadn’t even heard what they were talking about. “Umm, I think it sounds fine.” You hoped your response made sense. Slim and Travis nodded, but Colson tilted his head, a worried expression on his face. You just looked down at the table in front of you.

Travis and Slim continued to talk about the sound of the new song you guys were writing, something in between punk and rap. Slim tapped out a melody that you weren’t really in love with. “What do you guys think about that?”

You had scrunched your nose, which Colson had caught, but you didn’t want to upset Slim, so you kept your mouth shut, giving him a smile and nod of encouragement. “Y/N, I saw your face. You didn’t like it.” Colson called your bluff.

Your stomach turned, and you stuttered out an explanation, “It’s not that I didn’t like it. It’s good, it just sounds like every other rap song.” You looked down at the table in front of you, picking at your nails.

Travis, surprisingly, agreed with you. “Yeah, we’re trying to do something different, we need something really special.” Slim nodded, understanding. “I can’t think without caffeine, I’m gonna get some coffee, anyone wanna come?” Travis drummed on the desk, standing up.

“I’m down.” Slim followed him.

Colson shook his head, “Nah, I’m good.” The other guys nodded, “Y/N?”

You had been focused on your fingernails. The sound of your name pulled you out of your head, “Oh, uh, no. I’m fine. Thanks.” You smiled, feeling like they could sense your lies.

If the two did, they didn’t say anything, leaving the small studio. You stood from your seat and sat on the couch, pulling your phone out of your pocket, and scrolling through your notifications. Colson looked at you for a little while, but you didn’t notice. Then, he got up, sitting to your right on the couch very close to you, almost on top of you. You tried to hide your wince as your side flared in pain. You pushed him over lightly, eyes turning back to your phone to hide the pain that was no doubt all over your face.

“Dude, what’s up with you? You’ve been off all week.” The concern was almost endearing, but you felt caught.

You just shrugged, “tired, I guess.”

He rolled his eyes, “Tired? You heard Slim’s shitty ass beat and were gonna say nothing about it. Normally you’d be all over that.” He turned towards you, trying to cheer you up with a smile. “What’s going on? You know you can always tell me.” He dragged the last sound out, his fingers poking into your side.

You flinched in pain at the contact, pushing his hands away as your skin burned under your shirt. Colson’s expression went from cheery to angry in a split second. His hand moved slowly to touch the hem of your shirt, and you pushed his hand away. He was persistent, but you kept pushing him off of you, trying to scoot away from him. “Y/N let me see.” He grumbled, leaning to the other side of the couch where you now sat to try and lift your shirt.

You stood up, walking towards the door of the studio, “It’s nothing, Colson. I just ran into a wall the other day. You know me, I’m clumsy.” Colson wasn’t taking that answer, as you’d been “clumsy” a lot recently. He got up from the couch, his long strides easily catching up to yours, holding the door in front of you shut. He moved towards you, his hands ghosting over the hem of your shirt. You walked backwards, hitting a wall and flinching.

Colson’s hands moved your shirt up slowly, just enough to view your middle. He took in a sharp breath as his eyes wandered over the purple and yellow bruises that adorned the area. “What the fuck, Y/N?” He spoke under his breath, but every word was laced with anger. You tried to move away from him, tears forming in your eyes at the familiar tone your boyfriend would use before he’d inflict these wounds on you. “Some of these are already healing. How long-“

“It’s nothing Colson.” You tried to push his hands away, but his grip was strong. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. How long has this been going on?” His eyes lifted from your body to meet your own. You could see the concern in his eyes, almost enough to make you melt. You bit your lip, if he knew it would only be worse. “I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

You reached out and grabbed his wrists, holding tightly. “Colson, please don’t. I’m fine, really.”

“You’re not fine! This is not fine, okay?”

You sighed, tears falling from your eyes, “He doesn’t do it that often, only when I deserve it.” You pleaded.

Colson’s face fell and his hands moved to touch your face lightly, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Y/N, baby, listen to me. No one ever deserves this, and you definitely do not deserve this.” His voice was soft, but you could tell he was angry.

You sniffled, tilting your head to look at the ground, but his hands held you up. “I can’t stop him.” You whispered. “And I can’t leave him. He’s all I have. And if I tried to leave, he would catch me packing, or he’d find me and-“ You let out a sob, falling further into Colson and trying to stabilize yourself on his arms. He caught you by your hips, trying to hold you tight enough to keep you upright without hurting your bruised body.

One of his hands moved to pull your face into his chest, tangling itself in your hair. “He’s never gonna be able to touch you again, Y/N. I promise.”

You sniffled, pulling away to look up at him. “I don’t have anywhere to go. If I go to a hotel room, he’ll just look at my bank statement and track me down. And I can’t- can’t leave him. We’ve been together forever; this is just a rough patch. It’ll get better.” You whispered, trying to convince yourself more than him.

“Rough patches are nights without sex and sleeping on the couch, not beating the shit out of you.” He whispered, his forehead pressing against yours, his hand on the side of your head. “You’re gonna stay with me for a while, at least until you can get back on your feet. Me and Dre and Baze will go pick up your stuff tomorrow so you don’t ever have to see that asshole again.”

You bit your lip to hide your sob as more tear fell down your face. You pushed your face back into Colson’s chest, your entire body shaking. “What’s wrong with me?” You whispered into his shirt.

His arms wrapped loosely around your body, his head resting on the top of your own, lips pressing gentle kisses to your hair. “There is nothing wrong with you, okay? You are absolutely perfect.” He mumbled, the tears he had been repressing threatening to fall. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay? You’re safe with me.”

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker angst

[m00ns0ng]

Season’s Cummings

As part of the Citrus Dome Server Collab!!

Check out the other pieces here~

The Prompt:

The local news station hailed it as “the storm of the century,” and they weren’t wrong. You’ve watched the snow pile up beyond the window, building from a light dusting on the grass to literal knee-high drifts. And it shows no sign of stopping.

The place you’re stranded is stocked up on groceries, you’d charged every electronic device to your name, and you’d cranked the thermostat as high as it would go until the inevitable happens —

The power goes out.

So now you’re stuck indoors, with only a certain someone for company. The same someone you’ve been pining after for ages. Snow stacks up higher and higher outside. As the cold seeps in, and you both drift closer, you realize this was somehow the one thing you hadn’t thought to prepare for…

Pairings: Aged-up/Prohero Mineta Minoru/f!Reader

Tags: Uhh, it’s Mineta, senpai/kohai kink, generous amounts of drool, pretty vanilla sex, a little bit of feral sex, two horny gremlins mating, once again this is age-up Mineta

“Erm. Grape Juice-senpai, are you sure we’re prepared enough for this?” You eye the lounging prohero, also noting the growing pile of snow in front of the window behind him. Not only that, wind was howling outside and you could occasionally see the window frosting over. It was a bit frightening. 

The Prohero Grape Juice, also known as Mineta Minoru, as well as your boss, waves a hand, looking far too lax for the situation. “Hehe, well. I know we’d be a bit snowed in, didn’t think it’d be so…much though.” He frowned and glanced behind himself, before turning back towards you with a leer. “But hey, if it gets too cold, we can just cuddle up for warmth!” His eyes glazed over and you’re pretty sure you see drool. When one of his hands starts to drift down his chest is when you abruptly turn around to smack your cheeks. 

Okay, so sue you. You actually liked your lecherous and amorous-inclined boss. When you shyly admitted to your friends that you imagined fucking this bozo of a Prohero, they laughed at you. And if you were in their place, you’d do the same. But damn it, something about him did it for you. Or maybe you had a case of hero worship. He did save you after all. Though he might not remember it, you very much did. And ever since you joined his agency, you got to see sides of him that most others didn’t. After joining UA, you were told about how amazing Class 1A was, and you always felt so awed by them and their impact. 

He wasn’t just a pervert and a flirt, he was also someone that wouldn’t hesitate to save others, like a real hero. And he was short, which was totally your type. 

Taking a deep breath, you whirled back around to face your boss. Rather than pleasuring himself like his movements would have made you believe, he was on his phone, most likely checking his feed. You made your way to the snack corner. You had both come to this small town in search of some mid-tier villain that was trying to hit small businesses and then leave the city. Due to the fierce weather however, you and Grape Juice’s main priority was to check in to the surprisingly nice hotel you got to stay in for free. While it was worrying, you figured that the villain wouldn’t be able to go anywhere either. Especially now. 

When you thought about the whole situation, the fact that you were both snowed in had to mean something.

This is my chance, you thought, securing your favorite brand of chips and a water bottle. For now, you would calm your hormones a bit and chill. Until the boss said so, you were still on company hours, which meant tracking and making sure you guys wouldn’t fail this mission. It’d be embarrassing and demoralizing to have lost to bad weather conditions. After all, Pro Hero Deku wouldn’t let the horrid, freezing weather stop him (for better or worse). If Grape Juice failed to capture such a mid-tier villain, it would tank his reputation, as well as yours.

You grabbed the remote, turned to the news and grabbed your phone. Not that you expected much from the latter. The wifi in this place could be better, and your data wasn’t faring well either.

“Oh hey, you’re actually doing something useful! See, hehe, this is why you’re my favorite sidekick.” Grape Juice rolled himself to the edge of his bed, looking oddly cute as he tugged his comforter with him to look like a grape burrito. “If you can, put a marker for our log in and-”

“Already done, senpai! Just getting the weather report for now. We’ll need to see if we’ll be able to patrol later on tonight.” This was good. When you guys were interacting like the professional heroes you were instead of friends after work, it became easier to actually look him in the eye without fantasizing about him between your legs. “Though truth be told, I’d rather not haha. It’s…going to be so cold.” You curled in on yourself just at the thought. 

“Hmm.” When you looked up, you noticed Grape Juice was staring at you with narrowed, unreadable eyes, but then quickly switched his attention to the news report. Rather than analyze his weirdness, you also chose to focus on the news.

“…And we’re hearing that the snowstorm is going to worsen the more the night drags on. How upsetting for those out looking for some nice snow festivities.” Hmph, not surprising. Thankfully, you guys were staying at a pretty nice hotel, with room service and everything. “No, actually…We’re receiving word that this just may be the storm of the century, folks. With inches of snow piling up by the minutes.” 

What? You furrowed your brow and looked out the window just in time to see the last bits of twilight disappear behind snow. “What?!” You leapt up from the bed and went to the window. You swore you could hear the window itself creaking from the amount of snow piled onto it. Which was a horrifying thought, because… because you and Grape Juice were on the third floor. This could not be happening. 

“Well,” Grape Juice pushed himself up on his knees. You tried not to notice how he only came up to your collarbone because of that. You couldn’t help but notice all the cute things about him. And Grape Juice outside of his ridiculous hero costume was really, really cute. He had the style, the smug swagger, and the sexual intensity of a horny, touch-starved gremlin. And you would deliver the touch he so desperately wanted. “At least we’re good here! Heh, can’t say the same for that villain though. Probably shaking in their boots. Literally!” 

You let his bravado wash over you, slumping your shoulders in relief. “To be real with you, I’m also shaking in my boots. But from the cold! Ya know?” You gave him a nervous smile and skipped back to your bed. “I’m surprised you’re okay with wearing just a t-shirt and shorts right now.”

“It’s because I’m a Pro!” He threw the comforter off of himself and proudly thrust his arms out. “And I’m your boss. What kind of example would I be setting if I was heavily decked out in winter gear?” 

“A responsible one..?” You stared at him in confusion, and went back to eating your snacks. “I mean, you’re not like Shouto.” Fuck, he might take that the wrong way. “N-not that I mean any disrespect, senpai!” Grape Juice flinched and then shuddered. And you, you frowned. Had your comment stung that badly? You didn’t really care about the top three Heroes in all honesty. Nothing against them, but nothing from their flashy quirks and intense personalities really appealed to you. 

You turned away from him and adjusted the sleeve of your winter sweater. You could hear him falling back onto his bed. Should you apologize? Or just go back to eating your chips and pretending this moment never happened? Ah, screw this. 

Your butt met the edge of your bed, and you turned your attention back to the news. 

“And that’s not all! We’re hearing that this snowstorm won’t be receding any time soon. How horrifying, haha!” Who on earth laughs at such an abysmal scenario?? You reached around your bed and grabbed your phone. Even though it was fully charged, you couldn’t help but be dismayed at the shitty reception. You huffed, and then turned your ire towards the newscaster. “We hope everyone has been stocking up on resources, because it seems like-” But whatever the newscaster had been going to say was interrupted by the power going out. The loud thrum of the power outage made you pause. And then you jumped up. From somewhere on your left, you heard Grape Juice do the same. 

“Ah…well then.” He let out a nervous chuckle, and then a muffled curse. 

“Senpai? Are you okay?!” You heard him let out a grunt, and then suddenly he was touching you. Or your arms, more specifically. Your breath hitched, and you hoped he didn’t notice.

“Yep! The Prohero Grape Juice can handle the dark.” His hands slipped from your arms to hold onto your hands. “If anything, I should be asking if you’re okay!”

You smiled. “I’m perfectly fine, senpai. But um, what are we going to do now?” His hand clenched down on yours, and you swore you could see something dark cross over his eyes, before he abruptly turned away from you. 

“Can’t do it,” You heard him mutter, and your smile fell away.

“Mm? Can’t do what, senpai?” You moved to stand in front of him again, tilting your head this way and that, but you couldn’t catch his eyes. “You know, if there’s a-anything you want from me, just ask! I’ll be happy to provide.” You reached out a hand again to at least provide some physical comfort, but he jumped out of the way before you could.

“Anything, huh?” He finally met your eyes, and you blinked at the sheer intensity in his gaze. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that. Don’t you know that a guy like me enjoys it a bit too much?!”

Silence.

Well, partial silence. You could still hear the wind howling outside. But you were more focused on dissecting what you just heard. He liked it when you called him senpai? This whole time…

You licked your lips. “What if,” There’s no going back now. “What if I also like you, senpai?”

Of all the reactions you were expecting, him glaring wasn’t one of them. “You shouldn’t joke about that kind of stuff. I get it, I’m a lame Pro, but I still have feelings!”

“I do like you like though?” Fuck, you hadn’t meant to phrase it as a question. So you pushed forward. “I mean it! You’re the one I looked up to whenever I would hear about your class! And it’s your agency I wanted to join once I graduated!” By now, you were so close to him that he had no choice but to look at you, and the shadows on his face stood out.

But rather than get angrier, he blinked, and his expression cleared. “Ah, w-wait! This isn’t a prank or anything, right?! Y-you want me?” You stared at your boss. Really stared at him. He didn’t look like a sex-crazy gremlin, or the slightest bit horny. His eyes had lost their light, his lips were curled down, and he was rubbing his arm. He looked like the Minoru Mineta from the first time you met him, not sure if you actually wanted to join his agency. “I know I’m not the best Pro, or the most virtuous, but.” His brows furrowed, and he looked up at you with a renewed vigor. “But I want to make you feel good, if you’ll let me!” He slammed both his palms together and bowed his head, careful to keep his hair from touching you. 

Something soft filled you, and you reached out a hand, placing it under his chin and tilting his head up. “You don’t have to be anything other than yourself, senpai.” You smiled brightly. “After all, I chose to work with my cute senpai because I like your work ethic, and your determination. Not everyone wants to be on top!” You let your other hand come up and pet his cheek. “Truth be told, I’ve wanted you for quite some time now, senpai.” His eyes widened, and then watered at an incredible speed. “Aha, wait! Please don’t cry!”

He loudly sniffled. “Man, if I had known that I had a cute little kohai that wanted me from the beginning, I wouldn’t have wasted so much time staring at your fanpages!”

You pulled away to stare down at him. “My what?”

“Anyways!” He practically shouted, “We gonna do this or what?” You smirked and made your way to his bed. 

“Well, I’m happy you asked, Mineta-senpai.” You shimmied out of your pants, then panties. You held your panties up and watched the way Mineta’s eyes tracked them as he jumped onto the bed. “Let’s make this a little fun. If I cum before you do, then you can keep my panties. As a souvenir!” His eyes glazed over, and a copious amount of drool began to slide out of his mouth and pool on the sheets between you both. You tried not to be too bothered. You knew he would be at least a bit filthy, and if all went well, the sheets would be ruined one way or another. 

Mineta took off his clothes with a speed and ferocity that probably should have stunned you. “Lay down, and let your favorite Prohero Grape Juice take care of you!” You giggled and complied, relaxing your arms and legs as you laid out. You let your panties dangle on the tips of your fingers before you dropped them. Mineta immediately situated himself between your legs, muttering to himself. While he did that, you took your shirt and bra off as well. 

You tried your best to keep your breath even, but the moment you felt his touch on your thighs, it hitched. You waited with bated breath for his touch, and when you felt his tongue licking-no, slobbering all over your slit, you squealed. Your legs clamped around his head, but he managed to wriggle his way even closer, tongue circling around your clit before slipping into your opening, and then back again. His tongue was so wet, but once you got past that, you could admit that it also felt good. Relaxing back against the pillows, you spread your legs again and let out a quiet sigh.

Mineta moaned, and the rumble against your clit felt nice enough that you joined him. Soon enough, his fingers joined his tongue, and you panted and squirmed as his fingers-not that long, but definitely thick-thrust in and out of you at a slow, steady pace. “Mm, senpai, you feel so nice.” He leaned forward, his saliva dripping onto your chest, up to your neck, and finally onto your cheeks. 

You were sharing each other’s breath now.

“Haaa, that’s what I should be saying.” His pace quickened, and your pleasure grew. “My cute little kohai is clenching down on my fingers. Clenching down on me.” You panted out as his fingers curled and scissored inside of you. “Ahh, I can’t wait anymore!” He pulled his fingers out of you quickly and you didn’t even get a chance to react before his dick was slipping in. “Forget the stupid bet!” His hands kept a brutal grip on your hips, keeping you in place. Mostly. The power of his thrusts had you slipping up the bed, and you were very grateful the pillows were there.

“O-oh!” Your hands clenched into the bedsheets as he hammered into you. His pace didn’t slow down, and he didn’t relent in his intensity. One of his hands left your hips to slip into your mouth.

“Suck,” He groaned out, and then whined when you obeyed. “Such a good little kohai I have. You’d do anything for your senpai, huh?” He pushed down on your tongue. Even in the dark, you could see his eyes holding lust and a deep admiration. “You, you like me for me. A-and you don’t care about my reputation.” You closed your eyes and bobbed your head on his fingers. He let out another groan, slipping his fingers out of your mouth to rub them on your clit. You arched up and let out an embarrassingly loud moan. You really hoped no one heard that. 

“Are you close, baby? Gonna cum for your favorite Pro? Gonna let me k-keep y-” Mineta curled over you, shoving his face into your chest. “Dammit, how am I supposed to last long when your pussy is clenching down on me like this?!” His pace slowed, his hips jerking at a tell-tale uneven pace. You giggled and leaned down to kiss him. His tongue was in your mouth instantly, running over your teeth, curling around your tongue, and then thrusting in and out. It was sloppy, and with his fingers still on your clit, with him still pressing into you, it was also fucking hot.

You were going to cum, and you didn’t even care. The panties were just an incentive anyways. You got to fuck your senpai, and make him happy. A win-win for the both of you.

You broke away from the kiss, just barely aware of the string of drool that connected your mouths. “Mineta-senpai, I’m going to-”

“Cum?!” His excitement was cute enough that you didn’t mind that he cut you off. You met his thrusts as best as you could rolling your hips so he could fuck that particular spot inside of you that made you toes curl and eyes roll into the back of your head. 

“Yes, yes yes yes yes yes!” For a long moment, you felt perfect. The burst of pleasure that rocked your whole body and left you boneless as your senpai kept fucking you, whimpering as he sucked on your tit. Not even your nipple, your tit. You inhaled as he released your hips to wrap his arms around you, and it was only due to his small size that you didn’t mind. Your head fell back, eyesight a bit wonky from the intensity of the orgasm that just rocked through you. Mineta, apparently not yet satisfied, continued thrusting into you, stupidly powerful thrusts making you clench and squeal. “Mineta-senpai, you’re…the best.” 

“Hehe, yeah. I’m the best. I AM THE BEST!” His hands gripped your hips with a newfound ferocity and he flipped you over partially, leaving you confused and a bit dazed in the dark. One of his hands left your hips to grab his dick, and he aimed it right for your fluttering opening. 

“S-senpai, wait,” Your weak cry fell on deaf ears.

“Plus,” The manic drive of a Hero pushed him forward. “ULTRA!!!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So!” The receptionist gave you a bright smile, “Did you both enjoy your stay at Reaching Heights Hotel?”

You let your (grumpy) silence speak for itself, while Grape Juice sheepishly handed her his card. “It, haha, definitely helped me regain my drive!” The receptionist blinked at him, and then gave him a placid smile that only a front desk attendant could. And his card back. “Soooo thankyounowwehavetogobyeandsorryforthestains!”

You eyed Grape Juice as he turned to scurry away, and kicked your foot out, tripping him. Immediately taking advantage of his disoriented state, you snatched his card up and smirked down at him. You’re not quite sure how you look in that moment, but you are sure you liked that wide-eyed, vulnerable expression on his face. 

“Next time,” You murmur, “I get to be the one on top, squeezing every last drop out of you, senpai.” 

#Mineta Minoru x Reader #reader smut #citrus dome collab #whew boy #this is #yeah #bnha x reader

[krreader]

I like me better when I’m with you.

pairing: kim taehyung x reader fandom: bts warnings: / genre: fluff word count: 630+

summary: it just takes the right person to let yourself fall.

a/n: thanks for the request bb, just a short and fluffy piece that I hope you like!!!! 

On one hand, touring the world was a blessing that he was so extremely grateful for. Being able to see the people that got him and his band members to this point of their careers always made his heart beat faster.

But on the other hand, it was incredibly draining, physically and mentally.

Taehyung was always tired and was practically living on the rush of adrenaline that he got while he was on stage, but the moment he stepped off and was in the car back to the hotel, his body just gave up.

He became moody – mostly from being so extremely tired – and just wanted to snuggle up in bed and sleep for a day straight.

That's what he's done all these past tours and even though it didn't really lift his mood that much, he at least got a good amount of sleep.

But this tour, something changed.

Because now, he didn't open his room to nothing but silence and emptiness, but to warmth and happiness.

“Heeeey,” you grinned from ear to ear, getting up from the bed and wrapping your arms around Taehyung's neck, “You did it. You wrapped up the US tour!”

Instinctively, Taehyung let out a happy sigh and wrapped his own arms around your body, pulling you so close that he could bury his nose in the crook of your neck and breathe in your scent. He allowed himself to just stand there and enjoy your embrace for a few seconds, before he whispered, “I'm so glad you're here.”

“Me too.”

BigHit hadn't been too excited when Taehyung brought up that he'd like you to come with him on this tour, mostly, because they've been afraid that he might be too distracted, but it wasn't the case at all.

Having you with him lifted his mood, it made him more energetic and helped him deliver an even better performance for fans.

It was as if you were his charger and he was the empty battery.

“Are you tired?” you leaned back a little, studying his face for a moment.

“I'm okay now.”

“Then go and take a shower, I'll order us room service and we can either watch a movie or just talk.”

He was so grateful to have you here and take over the reins when he was too exhausted to do so. After the concert, he could just fully lay back and let you take over.

He took a steaming hot shower, then got ready for bed and when he walked out of the bathroom, there was already a ton of food waiting in bed for him and the Netflix logo on the TV screen.

“I didn't know what you wanted, so I just ordered everything that I thought you might be in the mood for.”

It was the little things that made him fall in love with you more, this being one of them.

Your thoughtfulness.

“Thank you,” he joined you under the covers and quickly gave you a kiss, before looking down at all the food and digging in right away.

Other people might think this was boring.

Why would someone spend the entire night in bed when in a foreign country, especially with the money and resources that BTS had? But for Taehyung, this was perfect. This was all he wanted and more. Eating in bed with his girlfriend and watching a shitty TV show that he didn't have to think too much about, while he and you chatted about his concert and laughed about something funny that happened to his band members.

Without a doubt, this was one of his favorite parts about touring the world nowadays.

Being able to come home to you, knowing that you'd always wait with a smile and open arms that he could find solace in.

#bts imagine #bts x reader #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #v x reader #kim taehyung imagine #taehyung imagine #v imagine #bts #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #kim taehyung #taehyung #v #reader #requests

[elexica]

Second Chance Christmas {{ December 24 :: Four Years Ago }}

Four years ago, Christmas eve was devastating.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832405/chapters/69012459

Full chapter under the cut.

The pit at the bottom of Joey’s stomach had been aching for the last three days.  It was like he swallowed hot coals and they refused to stay down, bile creeping up his throat every time he passed by that closed office door.

The house should have felt warmer—there must have been fifteen human bodies radiating energy and buzzing around the house.  He’d been preparing in a way—a strange sort of supervisory role he hadn’t particularly desired—for the Architectural Digest spread on their house.  Joey had been told that the article was going to place special attention on the picture perfect family that Seto Kaiba had accrued.

What a fascinating figure, the journalist had said, he must be a very interesting person to be married to.

Joey couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt interested in the life he and the CEO had built.  Instead the décor and ambiance of their home was so cold and so superficial, like Joey lived in a hotel.

With such esteemed guests visiting on Christmas Eve, with such a paper trail of coverage, the administration of the Kaiba Estate had gone completely crazy.  Joey couldn’t leave a glass of water on the counter and expect it to be there in an hour.

Even the kids were with a stylist this morning.  It had seemed unfathomably frivolous and somehow also a bit duplicitous.  Were they really trying to convince the readers of Architectural Digest that their children had an intuitive sense of fashion?  Alexis was still not out of her terrible two’s, and the more layers of anything they draped over her, the greater the risk that they would trigger some sort of tantrum.

He’d deserve that, Joey thought, meanly.  He had half a mind to interrupt Kaiba in his office and ask him that simple question: What are you trying to prove?  Who could possibly care how Kaiba’s five-year-old son dressed?  What their kitchen looked like?

How well his husband was handling the spotlight?

If anyone really asked, he didn’t know what he would say.  No one from this world ever really asked him how he was doing, not in that caring sincere way that real friends do, and so he lived half a life sometimes—the exterior half.  The part that was supposed to be making cookies, and volunteering at the daycare even though the kids’ nannies were really more involved, and posting fun little videos on Instagram.  He had his own publicist, and he wasn’t supposed to even do that without approval—he understood the reasons but it was like every drop of authenticity was drained… all that remained was the flawless artifice of a live lived perfectly.  

And the worst part was he was supposed to have an ally in all this.  One person he was on the journey with.

But instead, Kaiba felt almost like a client.  A person who had engaged him for husband and fathering services, who had certain specifications, certain resource allotments.  

There was a forcefield around the office door.

Not a literal one, though Kaiba probably could have managed that if he had tried.  It was decidedly low tech.  Heavy mahogany, thick enough to withstand an explosion, and mysteriously devoid of the mistletoe and holly that had been draped over every inch of the house in an attempt to seem more festive and spirited than goddamn Martha Stewart.

The anger radiating out of the room must have been enough to keep the decorators far away.

Over the last year, Joey had been subjected to some updates about Kaiba Corp. affairs.  They had just released a new phone model that incorporated holographic images for video chatting or something.  The launch had been a success, Joey assumed, because everything that Kaiba touched in the marketplace turned to gold.  Kaiba’s failures were few and far between, and his successes shined brightly enough that nothing bad seemed to stick.

The technology was supposed to be able to harness the capabilities that rendered Duel Monsters so realistically in Duel Disks, and use them connect people to distant loved ones with compelling holograms.  It was a technical masterpiece that had him and Kaiba travelling cross country to attend industry awards and galas.  It was exhausting, and half the time he felt like some sort of accessory.  Like Kaiba’s personal assistant had flown in the right suit, the right watch, and Joey to complete the ensemble.

It wasn’t like that the whole time.  There was a period, really quite a long time at first, where it felt like a game.  Joey’d try to smuggle food into venues that didn’t allow it or smuggle it out of galas for later, they’d conspiratorially make fun of other guests—especially mocking the ever-present Pegasus.  Sometimes Joey would pull one of his old tricks—they’d graffiti a bathroom stall after defiling it or do some harmless property destruction at a fancy house.

Weird nonsense too: who could steal the strangest object from the von Schroeder mansion, most absurd selfie with a world leader, that sort of thing.  Little adventures that had wracked up a collection of items that they could never properly explain: Seto’s signed copy of Warren Buffet’s biography, crystal low ball glasses from Pegasus’ house that didn’t match the set that Seto already had, and a very strange cellphone photo of Joey holding the coat of the Prime Minister of Canada while the head of state was puking in a bush behind him.

It had been fun.  It had been so fun.  Once they had let their guard down around each other, they had found excellent playmates.  Joey could be almost as devious as Kaiba under the right circumstances, and he was playful.  And Kaiba was always gunning for a competition.  A rivalry, any rivalry, any time.

It was not like marrying his best friend, but it was like marrying his favorite co-conspirator.

But over time, something about the events had turned so routine that it was merely another part of Joey’s very draining job of trophy husband.  And the snarky comments he was getting about the suit sizing from the stylist was the last thing he needed.  It just reminded him that he wasn’t a person to these people—he was an accessory, a decoration that could be trimmed and measured and posed just so like all the tinsel in the house.

Even if Joey hadn’t been living and breathing the new technology by virtue of listening to his husband’s egotistical acceptance speeches every other weekend for a month, Joey had seen the advertisements that had polluted his social media streams and had threaded themselves in between videos.  He’d even been featured in one—and he had to admit that hadn’t minded filming that—talking with a virtual Yugi, still bearing his King of Games title and the wild tri-colored hair, with his Duel Disk strapped to his arm and belt still wrapped around his neck.

That had been fine, but several of the other ads were geared at families.  And although Kaiba had for the most part kept the family out of the limelight, Joey’s publicist had been pushing harder for more of that humanizing presence.

“Everyone knows what your husband was like during ‘Battle City,’ and subsequent tournaments and product launches.  He had a legend’s status and we could work with the ‘Rogue Genius’ sort of thing,” the publicist had kindly explained, his tone perhaps a touch demeaning.  “But Kaiba Corporation isn’t just selling toys anymore.  And people do not want to buy the most essential equipment of their lives from a rebellious teen.  They want to see a man with integrity.  With a family, even an unorthodox one.”

Joey rolled his eyes at the last comment.

They hadn’t built this family in order to sell more products, it had been so… organic.  A natural expression of love.  Being in their thirties, having so much love for each other that it made so much sense to share it with children.  They could do it right this time.  All they had to do was the opposite of what their parents had done.

And they had!  Kaiba never raised his voice and Joey never picked a fight.  It was everything they hadn’t had growing up.  It was stable.  Neat.

And it had become absolutely miserable.  A set of formal relationships, scrupulously maintained and completely aesthetically flawless.  And now, it was even a saleable commercial product.

Joey was so close to breaching the forcefield and getting the door open, but he could just hear the faint traces of a conference call behind the door.

The phantoms were trying to tell Kaiba something about some supply chain problem.  Billions of dollars in contracts and products were flying back and forth in complex negotiations that rose to the level of international affairs.

Suddenly Joey’s problem—do the kids actually need a stylist, Kaiba?—seemed unfathomably small.  Heroically unimportant, embarrassingly trivial.

Did he even want to walk into whatever shitstorm was going on in the study?  Kaiba had his job, and Joey had his.

The only difference was that people seemed to value Kaiba’s job, and Joey’s was increasingly shitty.

Finally one of the maids—Joey thought she might even be in charge of that team, but was not technically the household manager, which was a different staff person—shook him from his frustrated position just outside of Kaiba’s study door.

“They’re ready to start taking the pictures,” she said.  It was so neutral, and Joey realized, a bit slowly, that she didn’t like him.

People usually liked him.  If they didn’t, he probably had picked a fight with them or something.  Anyone who spent real time with him couldn’t resist his signature Joey charm.  Maybe she’s new? Joey wondered.  Or was he just… not the same anymore?

Within the same minute, the children’s stylist beamed out of the playroom, with much the same announcement.  She was all smiles—and who wouldn’t be with such a fun niche.  They both looked at Joey.

The publicist was scaling the stairs, hand skimming the highly decorated banister and leaping over the twirls of pine leaves and luxurious red velvet ribbons, announcing that the Architectural Digest reporters were ready to begin.

Ah, it was time for him to do his job.  The only thing that he was supposed to really do.  Face his husband.

Joey could see why everyone else dreaded it so much.  Why he was so well-compensated for the task.

Joey extended his wrist, with a slow trepidation he had learned as a duelist, and tapped.

Within seconds Kaiba was at the door, eyes all blue fire, like a lion interrupted during a feast of antelope gizzards.

“Eh, we’ve got the thing?  The Architectural whatever thing?”  Joey figured the posse of people gathered behind him made half of his point.

“Yes.” Kaiba said, clipped, and looking still slightly pissed.

“So uh, you good?  You look good,” Joey gave him a once over, and was rewarded, as always with the handsome view of a perfectly put together Seto Kaiba.

Kaiba rewarded the compliment with a smirk.  “Yes.”

And the whole team descended together, with two of the more intense nannies handling the children and joining at the back of the group.

When finally down the stairs, Alexis was passed into Joey’s arms, and Atticus was handed off to Kaiba.

“How are your piano lessons going?” Kaiba asked Atticus, as if he was a colleague and not a five-year-old.

“Awesome!” Atticus answered with a smile.

“Do you know any duets yet?”

“Twinkle Twinkle Little Star!” Atticus announced, pleased with himself.

Kaiba stood for a moment, as if wracking his brain for any memory of the song.  Then he nodded.  “We can start with that.”

The Architectural Digest reporter looked at Kaiba, having expected to have his full attention immediately.  Indeed, the reporter looked like the kind of person who expected to have anyone’s attention at any time.  Joey had spared the man a Google search at some point before the meeting, and he had been impressed by the guy’s list.  He had done articles on the interior design aesthetic—and the corresponding family culture—of two sitting presidents, the prime ministers of both Austria and Australia, and Oprah.  Oprah.

He dressed like it too.  His silk scarf was recognizably Hermes, and Joey could tell that his whole thing was how fancy people were expected to dress.  Flashy and complicated and matching, but only sort of?

The stylist had intentionally been playing up the new, everyman qualities of the updated Kaiba family.  It was a stark contrast to the Visual Kei inspired aesthetic that his partner used to wear, but honestly?  Other than changing the t-shirt to cashmere and making the jeans cost about $400 more, Joey felt like he looked pretty much the same as he used to.  His shoes were a lot less comfortable now.

The reporter almost raised a hand to interrupt, and Joey instinctually went on damage control.

“Hey, great to finally meet you!  Welcome to our house.  Looks like you’re in for a concert to start off!” Joey smiled warmly, and was pleased to see it mirrored in the reporter’s face.

“Your husband is an interesting fellow, huh?”  The reporter had something of a pan-Atlantic accent to his voice, making him sound a little bit like he fell out of the Turner Classic Movies channel.

“You don’t know the half of it!  But I’m sure he’ll warm up,” Joey lied.  Joey reached forward to loop an arm around his husband’s shoulders as they continued to make their way toward the grand piano in the living room.  “What are you doing?” he whispered in his ear.

Kaiba spared him a dark, sideways glance.  “I am trying… to demonstrate human connection.  That’s the instruction I received.”

Joey laughed, though it wasn’t easy.  “Well, could you smile or something?  Introduce yourself?  It looks disjointed like this, I think.”

Kaiba’s attention diverted, announcing that the conversation was over.  Joey withdrew, his speaking time already terminated.

But the comment made enough of an impact.  When they arrived in the living room, which had been festooned with just about every wintry icon available in the tri-state area—including a row of pinecones and decorative wreathing along the piano and the biggest tree that could fit in the tall space jammed with more lights and baubles than should be possible—Kaiba deigned to greet the guest.

Kaiba gestured to the piano, and Atticus happily plopped down.  Kaiba joined him, much more calmly.  “Now, for a rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” Kaiba announced, rolling back the fallboard.

Atticus nodded mutely.  Someone had clearly drilled into him the importance of not saying anything weird, and he had interpreted it as not saying anything at all.

Kaiba began the initial keystrokes of the song, only for Atticuls to slam both of his hands down on the keys and completely startle him.

Kaiba instantly stopped playing, but Atticus kept going cubby child fingers on random keys.

“Do you… actually know how to play the song,” Kaiba asked, as Atticus started winding down.

Atticus beamed, “Yeah Oto-san, but this is a special Christmas remix!”

Kaiba smiled softly, shockingly genuine, and Joey was sure the cameras captured it.  “Very well.”  Kaiba diverted his attention away from the piano.  “Now that we have performed a Christmas remix, I suppose we may as well continue with the interview.”

The reporter seemed to be in good humor, eyes energic as they tracked Kaiba and Atticus back to the couch to join Joey and Alexis.

Like a flip had been switched, Kaiba acted like he had a human interest in the whole situation, but let Joey do most of the talking.

Joey thought maybe he was nervous.  He was so comfortable when the topic turned to the impact of Kaiba Corp., on international growth this or technology development that.  But sitting there, on a couch laden with thick green and red ribbon, being asked about how he balanced raising children with being in the office, he looked almost nauseated.

“I have a great partner,” Kaiba said, robotic and dead-eyed.  “And great help.  I could not do it alone.”

Joey tried to beam, but it felt like a brutally minimizing note.

A great partner?  It was a performance review, not a term of affection.

After the interview finally ended and the additional staff began to disperse, Joey found himself trailing Kaiba back to his study.  The kids were whisked away—Atticus already had another piano lesson and Alexis was due in the ballet studio.  She had made the cut as one of the youngest among the 130 children to participate in the New York City Ballet Company production of Nutcracker, scoring a prestigious position as one of the angels.  It was very impressive and very cute, but it felt a bit odd to watch the two-and-change-year-old have so many appointments.  She just spun around a little… Joey had to assume it was another instance of her name opening doors.  But it was adorable, and she was a pretty serious toddler, and who was he to get in the way of high performance.

She said she liked it, as much as a two-year-old can articulate that they like anything, and he didn’t want to burst anyone’s bubble.

So, after everyone had scattered, it was just Kaiba in his study, and Joey feeling empty.

Joey knocked on the door.  When he didn’t get a response, he opened it anyway.

“What?” Kaiba snapped, not looking away from his laptop.

“I…” Joey thought about what he wanted to say, but nothing came to mind immediately, except for the simple truth.  “I can’t handle this.”

Kaiba didn’t look up.  “You can’t handle what?  Talking to a guy for an hour?  You did nothing.”

When Joey didn’t immediately leave, Kaiba paused in his typing, maybe realizing that he couldn’t really account for what had happened prior to his entrance.  “Do you need more help?”

Joey sank into the companion chair in the study.  “I mean no, I think there’s probably too much staff.  Do the kids really need a stylist?”

Kaiba looked up.  “I am so busy, Jounouchi.  Do you really want to debate the merits of having someone pick the children’s clothes for a photoshoot?  That cannot possibly be the best use of your time, and I know it’s not the best use of mine.”

Joey met his eyes for a second, but lost his determination.  “I just… I miss how it was. Things didn’t used to be like this, right?”

Kaiba sighed.  “Things have always been like this.  What do you mean?”

“You know what, never mind.  It’s fine.  It’s just, I guess it’s Christmas eve.”  Kaiba didn’t acknowledge the statement and Joey left the study, heart twisted, feeling more alone than he had in years.  “We’re supposed to do family stuff.”

Kaiba went back to his computer.  “We did.  And I’m sure more is scheduled for tomorrow—I know that I’m scheduled to attend one of Alexis’ performances tomorrow.  You should check your calendar, I am sure we have a dinner scheduled somewhere tonight… I think at the Governor’s estate.  You should check with someone about the required attire.  But not me, Jounouchi, I really am busy.”  The chillin blue eyes didn’t even follow Joey as he stalked out of the room.

Joey didn’t say it—he couldn’t find the will to say it yet, and he didn’t say it for another year.  But in that moment, Joey knew that their marriage was over.

#Violetshipping #puppyshipping #seto kaiba #Kaiba Seto #Joey Wheeler #Jounouchi Katsuya #my fanfic #fanfic #crossposted on ao3 #mine #y'all i am concerned this chap isn't as good as the last one but i think it's ok #it's context #cause things gotta turn around but you have to remember how shit things used to be

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 56

Warnings: profanity

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​

An hour before the initial team meeting, Tyler gathers privately with Anil; a chance to discuss the ‘rules and guidelines’ they’d drafted up when agreeing to run the mission together. While normally not one to hand over even partial control of a situation, it had been an easy decision to make. Anil a seasoned businessman with years in special forces; extensive working knowledge of weapons and hand to hand combat, unlimited resources and trustworthy informants with their ears to the ground. He never would have been able to pull off all the organizing and delegating on his own; his military days and his time as a merc seeing him as the one who followed plans and orders and got his hands dirty. Even with his years in the game, it’s still a lot to learn; going from simply part of the team to running the entire show. When it comes to the job, the only way to truly learn is to be thrown into the deep end.   Whether it’s running things behind the scenes or being dropped into the middle of an already volatile and unpredictable situation. You’re never fully ready; no real way of preparing yourself when no two missions are ever the same.

While the feeling of emptiness remains, it isn’t nearly as profound as it had been the night before; the ache in his chest still there, but not as painful. It’s a classic case of homesickness. Something he’d experienced every time he left for a job, but not to such an enormous extent. It isn’t just about missing what he left behind; from his wife and his kids to the view off the back deck and the sound and smell of the ocean. It isn’t just a longing to kiss her and hold his baby girl and hear his kids’ laughter and voices and see their smiles. With every other job he’d been able to handle whatever was thrown at him; to just roll with the punches -literally, at times- and think quick on his feet and improvise if need be. But this is different; far more complex and dangerous. With the bounty on his head, it was hostile territory before he even stepped foot on it. And it isn’t just his life hanging in the balance. His entire world...his entire existence...is being threatened. The stakes have never been higher, and even one simple mistake, at his hand or someone else’s, could destroy everything.

Both hearing her voice and Koen’s tough love -along with a hearty meal- had done wonders to ease some of the emotional suffering; sleeping surprisingly well, waking only to take some pain meds and then immediately drifting off again. Waking had been another story; disoriented at first, hand blindly reaching for that warm, soft body that’s normally beside him, only for his fingers to encounter cold, vacant sheets.  It had taken his brain several minutes to get over its confusion. Not even  remembering he was even in Mumbai; initially questioning if she’d gone ahead without him when it came to the kids’ morning routines, then wondering why the hell it was so quiet. That’s when the fear and the panic kicked in; the feeling of absolute dread that something horrible had happened to his entire family.  And if it hadn't been for the cautious hand Koen had put on his shoulder and his voice -surprisingly and uncharacteristically soft and soothing- saying “Easy, mate. Easy”, he’s pretty certain he would have had a full out panic attack.

Three hours later and his nerves have finally calmed.  The reality of the situation finally settling in; his focus and determination to get the job started taking precedence over all other feelings. The homesickness lingering  yet not threatening to devour him; able to concentrate on the conversation at hand and the very detailed and concise report on the screen of the laptop open in front of him. He’s had  little to say; silence enabling him to take in the information and plan around it. Organizing things in his mind; already designating the harder tasks to those he knows can handle them. With Rata in town now -having arrived from Cairns only two hours early- it makes four (including himself) with extensive military backgrounds; him and Nathan with time already served as mercs. Ovi, as eager as he is, is their weak link. He has no actual experience and this isn’t the ideal job for someone to be learning on. If the stakes weren’t so high, Tyler wouldn’t mind the kid tagging along and shadowing him. But he simply doesn’t have the time to babysit; his focus needing to be on getting shit done and keeping himself alive.

“You’ve said very little,” Anil comments, and moves to fill both their now empty coffee cups from a carafe in the middle of the table. They’ve sought privacy in the hotel’s private conference room that had been promised to the team upon arrival; sitting down before the briefing to ensure they’re on the same page.

“I’m not much of a talker.”

“A man of action and very few words.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“You miss home.” It's a statement, not a question.

“That obvious, huh?”

Anil gives a small, sympathetic smile. “More than a little. But to be honest, it would concern me if you didn’t miss home. You take great pride in being a family man.”

“Only thing I’ve done with my life that I AM proud of,” Tyler admits.

“Not your military service or the people you’ve helped as a mercenary? They don’t fit in your vision of things to be proud of?”

“Not really. I wouldn’t say killing people for money is something to be proud of. Or boast about but my kids are. For the most, I know I’m doing right by them; that I’m not screwing them up too much at least. I’m giving them a good life and a pretty stable home and they’re growing up seeing me love and respect their mother. When I’m old and gray and they’re good people and they’re treating others right and loving with everything they have, THAT’S something I can go to my grave being proud of.”

Anil nods slowly, considering Tyler’s words.

“I was something I never thought I’d have again,” he says. “A wife. Kids.”

“You were married before? Had children?”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t see THAT in my file. I read it; I know it’s all in there.”

“To be quite honest, all I was concerned with was your track record as a mercenary. Your success rate.”

“My kill sheet, you mean.”

“That was one of your major selling points, I must admit.”

“My first marriage didn’t end well. There were a lot of things to blame, but my own issues and bad decisions played the biggest role. And I didn’t think I’d get that chance again; that I’d fucked up so bad I didn’t deserve to have it.  And then I met Esme and things happened pretty quick between us and now…” he shrugs. “...now it’s almost seven years and five kids later.”

“You felt you weren’t worthy of a normal life?”

“I guess. I guess I felt my mistakes were too big to be forgiven and that I didn’t deserve to be happy. Then I got into the job and I figured no one would want to get with some guy that kills people for a living. And then came the drinking and the meds.”

“You were in a bad place,” Anil concludes.

“Yeah, it was pretty bad. It GOT pretty bad. I started taking the most dangerous I could, hoping someone would put me out of misery because I was too much of a coward to do it myself.”

“You were meant to live Or a bullet WOULD have found you. Whether someone put it in you, or you did it yourself.”

“Someone DID do it for me. A fucking teenager. A street thug. Shot me from behind and left me with this…” he rubs the tips of his index and middle fingers over the scar on the side of his neck. “...I came so close. So fucking close. And the worst part of it? I came that close to right when I decided I didn’t want to die anymore. Because someone had come along and made me feel alive again after years of feeling like a goddamn zombie. She gave me a reason to stick around and keep going. This hope that her and I would make something out of nothing. And maybe that sounds crazy seeing as we only knew each other for a really short time, but it’s the way it went. I came close to losing everything but it really became anything.”

“She saved you,” Anil says “On that bridge.”

“She saved me in every way a person CAN be saved.  And sometimes she still does. It hasn’t been easy; being with me. We've had a lot of hard, shitty times. But she’s been the one constant; the one thing I know I can count on. The one person that always has my back no matter what. She hangs in there. I don’t know why half the time, but I’m glad she does.”

“You should be grateful,” Anil gestures at him with his coffee cup. “For what you have. Especially for someone in your line of work.”

“Believe me, I am. No one else could do it. It takes a strong fucking person, and she’s the strongest I know. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. Or my kids.”

“Which is why you’re here.”

“I don’t care how many lives I have to take. Or how I have to take them. No one fucks with my family.  I don’t care how much money or power they have. Because I’ll stop at nothing to keep my family safe. Even if that means I have to give up my life to do it. As long they survive. That’s all that matters to me.”

“They will be safe,” Anil assures him.  “At my home. I’ll have only my best men working. Around the clock.  Nothing will happen to them under my roof, that I can promise. The best people on top of the best security system money can buy. No one is getting close to them.”

“And I want to believe you, mate. And I want to have all the faith in the world with your people and your money. But I want to put someone there, too.  Someone I know I can trust. We haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I know they’d get the job done if it came down to it.”

“What is your man’s name? I'll do my own background check. I’ll…”

“Nik. Nik Khan. I know that you know who she is.  That you have a ‘working relationship’, whatever the hell that means. She’s the one I want. I worked for her for years and I know how good she is. I know the things she’s capable of. That’s who I want.”

“And you’re certain that she’ll do this for you? Put all the differences aside to do you this one favor?”

“She was the one that offered all the help in the first place. I never went to her. I think it’s safe to say she’ll do it.”

“And Ovi? What do we do with him? It would be dangerous for him...and us...if we allowed him out onto the streets. He’s had no formal training, no real experience with weapons…”

“Use him as a translator. Bring him along when we need to get information out of someone. And he can drop his last name. That’ll make people cooperate.”

“It’s risky,” Anil sighs. “Playing that kind of game.”

“Mate, this whole fucking thing is risky. We don’t even know where most of these guys on the list are. He drops the old man’s name and people will come to him.”

“Lure them? Ambush them?”

“You got a better idea? Because I sure as hell don’t. We’re going into this shit blind. More than the half the addresses on that list you gave don’t even exist. So either you made a mistake, someone gave you bad information, or you’re fucking with me. And you better hope it’s not the last one.”

“It’s the information I was given. From my people. Truly you don’t think I would go into business with you, offer my own home to your wife and children, give you access to all my resources, if I was planning on double crossing you.”

“Six months ago, I had a guy jump through some pretty big hoops to get to me. So yeah, I think you just might.”

“I am in this for my brother,” Anil insists. “To avenge him. His life was torn apart by Mahajan and Amir Asif. Neysa lost her husband;  Aarav lost his father.And for what? A battle between drug lords who deserved nothing more than being put down in the street like rabid dogs. I’m a man of action, myself. I don’t play games. If I wanted you dead, it would have happened already.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of Tyler’s mouth. “Kind of bold of you to assume you’d be able to get it done and not wind up in a body bag yourself.”

“And that...that confidence...that edge…that’s exactly why I wanted to go into business with you. You and I are a lot alike, you know. Our backgrounds, our experiences, our trust and faith in our skills and our abilities. Alone, we’re dangerous. Together, even more so. Your family is safe; nothing will happen to them. I will make sure of that. And I’ll do whatever I have to make sure you return to them. We’re going to have many years of working together, and I very much look forward to it. We’ll be very successful. As long YOU don’t cross ME.”

“I don’t intimidate easily, mate.  I’m not in this to fuck you over. I’m in this to protect my family. That’s all that matters to me. I’ll do what I need to go, you just make sure you get shit done. Mahajan can’t still be breathing when all of this is over.”

“Oh believe me,” Anil says. “He won’t be.”

****

While the others gather in the conference room prior to the team meeting, Tyler retreats to the front lobby. Finding a small alcove that exists of nothing more than a simple wooden bench; tucked away from the foot traffic and the noise. And he’s slightly annoyed when one of Anil’s men move closer  in an effort to keep both an eye on him, and ward off any potential threats. There’s no way anyone could close without Tyler seeing them coming, and all the protection he needs sits in the holster on his right hip.  

He uses his personal cell to call home; both grinning and having to to hold it away from his ear when Millie answers with a shriek that even the ‘bodyguard’ can hear from ten feet away.

“Daddy! Mommy said you’d call before bed and you did! I knew you would! I knew that the bad guys wouldn’t stop you from calling us.”

“Nothing can stop me from talking to you guys.”  The mere sound of her voice and the thought of that unruly hair, those huge blue eyes and that bright smile with its missing teeth, returns the tears to his eyes and the tightness to his chest.  This is wrong. All so fucking wrong.  Having to be apart from them in the first place.  And that’s what makes the rage and the need for revenge begin to simmer yet again. That fact that someone ever put him...them...into this situation.

“I miss you,” Millie says. “I miss you doing my hair before school. Mommy’s good, but she’s not as good as you at it. And I miss how you tuck me in. Like a Millie burrito. The monsters can’t get me when I’m a Millie burrito. Do we get to see you soon?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “It depends.”

“On what?”

“How busy things get. There’s a lot going on and I can’t see you guys until some of it is taken care of. But Auntie Nik will be there; when you arrive. I asked her to go and stay with you guys. Is that okay?”

“I guess. It’s not her fault that you have to leave. Not this time, anyway. But when will you get to see us? Soon?”

“I hope so. Are you okay?”

“I’m a bit sad,” she admits. “Because you’re not here. And ‘cause I don’t get to see you for a bit. And mommy’s sad too. She won’t admit it, but I know she is. Her eyes don’t look the same when you’re gone. When you’re here, her eyes are really sparkly and she smiles a lot. But now her eyes aren’t sparkly and she isn’t smiling much. And that hurts my heart; to see mommy sad. Why is she like that? We’re going on a trip. That should make her a little bit happy, right?”

He clears his throat noisily, then runs a hand over his face. Placing it against his forehead, eyes closed, elbow perched upon his knee. “She’s probably just tired. You guys are being good, I hope. You’re not giving her a hard time, are you? Eating all your dinner? Cleaning your rooms?”

“We’ve been good. We haven’t been fighting or arguing. I haven’t punched anyone in the face. Yet.”

“How about you not punch them in the face EVER.”

“Can I KICK them in the face?”

“No kicking, no punching, no head butts. No nothing. You can’t go through life beating people up because they make you mad.”

“But isn't’ that what you do?” Millie inquires. “People make you mad and you get to beat them up. That’s your job.”

“There’s a little more to it than that.”

“Sometimes you get to kill them?”

Tyler sighs. “Sometimes.”

“But they deserve it because they try to kill you first. So you have to kill them. That makes it okay ‘cause you don’t want to die. And you don’t want mommy or any of us to die either.”

He frowns. “What…?”

“I heard you, daddy. I heard you talking to mommy. I was pretending to be asleep, but I heard you guys talking. About why we’re really leaving. Because the bad guys said they were going to hurt us. So you wanted us to be closer so you could protect us if you had to.”

He has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep a string of expletives from tumbling from his mouth. This is NOT what he wanted. It’s the last goddamn thing he wanted.

“Daddy, it’s okay,” Millie says. “I’m not scared. The bad guys don’t scare me anymore because I know you can beat them up and you won’t let them anywhere near us. You always protect us. Always. You’re not gonna stop now.”

“I’ll never stop protecting you. Not even when you’re married and have kids of your own.”

She giggles. “I don’t think my husband would like my dad around all the time.”

“He doesn’t have a choice. And he won’t protect you like I do. No one can do that. Do me a favor, yeah? Don’t tell your brothers what you know. Keep it to yourself, okay? And don’t tell your mother either; she’s worried enough. She doesn’t need to be worried about that too. Hear me?”

“I hear you. I’ll keep my mouth shut, I promise. If the bad guys DO find us, will you come and see us then?”

“Of course I will. In a heartbeat.”

“But they won’t, right? Find us?”

“You’ll be safe,” Tyler assures her, then looks up as Nik hovers two feet away, hands shoved in the pockets of her well tailored slacks; concern in her eyes and furrowing her brow. And he gives her a small, almost weary smile before adding, “Auntie Nik will make sure you’re safe. You can trust her. I trust her. With you and your brothers and your sister. And your mom. No one else I trust to watch over your guys. I gotta go. I got some things I have to take care of. I love you.”

“I love you too, daddy. I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Tell your mom I’ll call her a bit later. Give her a huge hug and a kiss from me.’”

“I will. Are you still wearing your bracelet?”

“I am,” he confirms. “I’m never going to take it off. And you’re right; I DO think of you when I look at it.”

“I’m going to make a matching one for me. So that when I look at mine, I’ll think of you and smile. Because I really miss you. I miss you reading me bedtime stories and taking me surfing and fishing and all that fun stuff. It hurts my heart and my tummy when you’re not here. I don’t like it when you’re gone and I can’t hug you.”

“I don’t like being gone either.” His voice wavers with emotion. “It hurts my heart too. I’ll see you soon, though. I promise.”

“Not soon enough though.”

“No. Definitely not soon enough.”

“I love you, daddy. We’ll talk soon, yeah?”

“Very soon,” he assures her. “I love you, Amelia. Remember that, okay?”

“I will,” she promises, and then disconnects the call.

***

He presses end on his cell, then sits staring at the blank screen for several minutes. Thankful that Nik doesn’t speak or make a move to approach him. Simply giving him the space he needs to cope with all the emotions surging through him; loneliness, heartache. Rage that Mahajan has even threatened his family and put him in such a position. Guilt because he’d even gotten his kids dragged into such a huge, shitty mess. Had he just pushed her away seven years ago...if he just hadn’t been so fucking selfish...none of this would be happening.

“You okay?” Nik finally asks, when he shoves the phone into the side pocket on his cargo pants and then lays his palms against his forehead; thumb rubbing at one temple, index finger working on the other.

“Do I look okay? Do I honestly look okay?”

“I’m sorry; that was a stupid question to ask. Mind if I sit?”

“I don’t give a shit. There’s not much I give a shit about anymore.”

“I know this is hard,” she says, as she sinks onto the bench beside him.   “I know what this is doing to you; being away from them.”

“No. I don’t think you do. And if this is where you lecture me about getting my shit together and how I need to put my personal life aside and not get emotionally involved or some other bullshit you’re going to spew, save it. I know what I have to do. And when it’s time to do it, I’ll do it. Just right now…”

“All I was going to say is that I understand. I get how hard it is for you; leaving home. And how difficult it is this time around, considering the circumstances.”

“You’re not going to tell me that is all my fault? That I’m a selfish bastard for ever getting married and having kids? For bringing this shitty fucking life in the first place?”

“Nope. I’m not. Because you’re already busy saying all of that about yourself. I will tell you it’s bullshit. That you deserve a normal life. That out of all the people who tried this while still doing the job, you’re the one who deserved it the most. That you’re pretty much the envy of everyone who's tried to have that kind of life but have failed miserably. No one hates you the way you hate yourself, Tyler. And I’ve been telling you that for years.”

“So is that why you’re out here?” He asks. “You think I need to be talked down off some ledge? I’m fine, Nik. I miss home. I miss my wife and my kids and I’m fucking pissed that all of this is even happening. But once this gets going, once I get back into it and that first name is crossed off that list? All that is going to matter is crossing off the rest.”

“It won’t be that easy. You know that. Because Mahajan will know it’s you. IF he doesn’t already know you’re here. Only takes one rat to sink a ship.”

Tyler scowls. “You think we have a rat? That we have something to worry about?”

“I think there’s people around you that you shouldn’t trust. That you’re relying on a little too much. That you should step back and rely on yourself, not them. I’ve known you a long time, Tyler. I know how you work. And you work best on your own. Don’t put too much into other people. That’s all I’m saying.”

“What do you know?”

“Nothing for certain yet.  Just things I’m looking into. You’ll be the first one I come to if I get the answers I want. And I’m sorry; for the way things ended between us.”

“Nik...not now...there was never an us…”

“I don’t in that way. I mean work wise. Friendship wise. You left for a reason; a very good reason. And I should have accepted that.”

“You also should have accepted that I was married and just left me the fuck alone. Instead of trying to screw up my life. Over and over again.”

“I’ve apologized for that. A million times. And  if I could take it all back, I would.  I was hurt. That you chose her over me.”

“I didn’t want you in that way,” Tyler argues. “There was no choice to make. It was never between you and her. It was just her. That’s it. And I’ve told you this how many times? Even if Esme hadn’t come along, there still wouldn’t have been an us. But she DID come along. And she’s my wife and the mother of my kid and if you’ve got some ulterior motive behind being here or you’re gonna start your shit again…”

“No ulterior motive. I want to put everything behind us. Leave the past where it should be. Can we do that? Or least TRY to do that? I know it won’t be an overnight fix.  It’s going to take a while to get over   everything. But isn’t it worth a try?”

Tyler nods. “I guess. But I’m serious, Nik. I’m not letting you screw up my marriage. Because I love her. More than I ever thought I could love someone. And I’m not leaving her, or my kids, for you or anyone else.”

“I know. And I hear you. Loud and clear. And speaking of kids, Addie is gorgeous. Esme let me hold her at the party. All that dark hair and those huge dark eyes? She’s definitely the odd duck out of the five. A very beautiful odd duck, mind you. And so tiny!”

“Yeah, she’s a wee one. So much like her mom. Looks just like her. And Esme deserved that; having at least one just like her.”

“I hear you even have a pet name for her.”

He grins. “You did, did you. Who told you that?”

“Don’t be shy about it. Or embarrassed. I think it’s cute; daddy’s little peanut. A guy like you turning into a big softie when it comes to his kids. Especially with his little girls. There’s something very compelling about you as a girl dad. It’s so easy to picture you boys; not so much with daughters. This big, tough guy with all his tattoos and his edginess and his ability to kick ass at the drop of a hat, getting all weak over his little girls.”

“I’m not weak.”

“I don’t mean like THAT, and you know it. I mean it in a good way. There was always that compassion and that humanity lingering inside of you, and it just took Millie and Addie to get it out of you. Not that the boys didn’t help. I’m just saying that you, with girls? There’s something pretty special about that.”

Tyler grins. “I thought you were going to say it’s karma considering some of the not so wise choices I’d made when it came to where I stuck my dick,”

“Your taste in women often had me both bewildered AND concerned. But there’s no karma involved.   You were given those girls because you’re damn good at taking care of them. Of ALL of them.  Never thought I’d see you braiding hair and playing Barbies and having tea parties.”

“Fuck, don’t say it so loud, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Trust me, nothing takes away from the fact that you do the job as well as you do. And it’s good to see you back at it. A bit of a surprise, mind you. And I really do wish you’d have given me a heads up. About the business thing.”

“I should have,” Tyler admits. “I realize that now. But it was never about fucking you over. Or about revenge. It was about needing something to do. I wanted back in the job without being right in it. And starting a business made all the sense in the world. I wouldn’t have to leave home as much. It’s not fair that Esme’s been practically raising those kids on her own. This way, I can do the job, take care of my family, and provide them. That’s all it was ever about. And I’m sorry. That I didn’t reach out to you and let you know. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She smiles, then leans her shoulder into his. “That means a lot. Especially coming from you. I know it’s not easy for you to say the ‘s word’.”

He chuckles. “No. It’s not.”

“And I’m sorry too, For reacting the way I did.”

“Nerves were already pretty raw after New Zealand,” Tyler reasons. “I guess we both could have handled things different. And thank you; for offering to help. Coming here yourself, bringing your people, your resources. I appreciate it.”

“You’d do the same thing for me if I needed the help.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I would. In a heartbeat.”

“I spoke to Anil. He told me what you want. Me at the house.”

“I understand if you don’t want to do it. I know you probably came here wanting to get your hands dirty. So if you don’t want to do it…”

“I DO want to do it. And thank you. For trusting me with that. With THEM. I know that’s not easy for you; trusting people with your family.”

“If there’s anyone I DO trust with them, it’s you. Because I know what you’re like when you’re on a job. How focused and committed you are. I know you won’t let anything happen to them. I also know it’s probably going to be really weird with Kyle there.”

“I’m going into this with no emotional ties. I’m going into this like I would any other job. I’m all in. Nothing will happen to Esme or the kids. Not on my watch.”

“Thanks, I mean, I’d rather be there myself, but…”

“You need to do what you have planned. That’s where your focus needs to be. Trust yourself, Tyler. Your skills, your instincts. Trust yourself first and foremost. Promise me that.”

“Nik, what…?”

“Promise me. The things I’m looking into...the people I’m looking...I’ll tell you all about them when...and if...I get answers. For right now, trust yourself out there. Only yourself. Got it?”

He nods.

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” she says, then stands up and smooths down the back of her slacks. “You do that, you’ll live through this.”

****

“The plan is to have most of you working in pairs,” Yaz says, as he stands at the head of the conference table, casting images from his laptop to the hotel provided smart board. “We’ve partnered Koen and Rata together given their extensive military service alongside each other, and Anil and Nathan together until things move to the prison at a later date. Then, Anil will work with Ovi to gain access to Mahajan. The prison, as rundown and overcrowded as it is, has extremely tight security and an army of heavily armed guards. It won’t be just as easy as going in there, carrying out the job, and getting out. More time and effort will be needed for that, and we may end up needing more people. We’ve got Nik going to head  security at Anil’s private residence, and Tyler working on his own. For now.”

“Why on his own?” Koen speaks up. “Why isn’t he with anyone?”

‘Because he has the experience the rest of you don’t have,” Yaz explains. “And he works better by himself. This isn’t about large scale take downs, so if any of you were thinking that kind of thing would happen and this would all be over with quick? I’ve got some bad news for you. We are going after two or three at a time. And given what Tyler was able to do in Dhaka when he took down an entire apartment on his own…”

“That was even years ago,” Koen interjects. “A lot’s changed in seven years.”

“I work better alone,” Tyler speaks up. “You heard what Yaz said. I don’t need to be babysitting. I’ve got shit to do and I don't need to be worrying about whoever’s tagging along.”

“It’s not safe for anyone to be working alone, never mind you,” Koen argues.  “Aren’t you the one with the bounty on his head? Wouldn’t it make sense if you’re the one with a sidekick watching YOUR ass?”

“I don’t need anyone watching my ass. I’m not a rookie. Worry about yourself, for fuck sakes.”

“Tyler has been doing this for years,” Nik says. “His record speaks for itself. He knows what he’s doing and if he needs help, he’ll ask for it.”

“Like hell he will,” Koen grumbles. “This reeks of you,” he addresses Tyler. “Always thinking you can handle shit on your own.”

“When it comes to the job, I can. So why don’t you just sit there, shut up, and let Yaz continue. Anil and I are running this and this is what we came up with. Deal with it.”

“How come I don’t get to go with anyone?” Ovi inquires.  “What am I supposed to do? Just sit around and wait until I’m needed?”

“That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do,” Tyler replies. “You’re here to translate. And when we need you to translate, we’ll let you know.”

“I didn’t come all this way just to translate. That’s not what we talked about. I should be going with you.”

“Because that worked out so well the last time?” Tyler asks. “Last time we were in a job together, mate, I ended with me getting shot in the throat. I don’t want a repeat of that.”

“I was a kid then! I was fourteen. I’m almost twenty one. And I’m a merc now so…”

“Whoa...whoa…” Yaz holds up his hands. “...you are not a merc. You’re not even close to being a merc. That and that…” he nods at Nik, then Nathan, “...those are mercs. That…” he gestures towards Tyler. “...that’s a merc. You’re a baby merc.”

“He’s not even out of the womb yet,” Nathan chuckles. “Fetus merc.”

“Fuck you,” Ovi snarls. “Tyler’s been training me. On weapons, hand to hand combat…”

“And you’re nowhere ready to be out there,” Tyler says. “You think a few hours of training and you’re done? Do you know how long it takes to get used to doing this? To be confident doing it? You just don’t walk about knowing the ropes. You got a  long way to go.”

“I know how to shoot a gun.”

Rata scoffs. “Even I know it’s not as easy as just knowing how to shoot a gun. Do you have any experience? Any military background? Time at a shooting range? Anything that suggests you can properly deal with the weapons we’re handling?”

“I shot Gaspar,” Ovi points out.

Rata frowns, then turns to Koen. “Who the fuck is Gaspar?”

Koen shrugs.

“That was a handgun,” Tyler reminds Ovi. “And it won’t do shit for you when you’ve got an automatic rifle being fired at you. You’ll be dead before you even get one shot off. You’re not going out there. You’re going to stay here and help where you’re needed.”

“I’m needed out there!” Ovi argues. “You shouldn’t be out there alone!”

“Now the kid and I are agreeing on something.” Koen says. “You shouldn’t be out there alone.”

“You shit the fuck up,” Tyler orders. “I’m YOUR boss, remember? This is what’s going to happen. Either you fucking deal with it or leave. I don’t have time for your shit. Or…” he glares at Ovi “...your shit. Do I need to remind you whose family these people are going after? I don’t need anyone’s fuck ups destrying my entire life. So if either of you have an issues with how things are going to go, there’s the fucking door.”

Nik pushes her chair closer to the table and lays her hand on his shoulder, effectively calming him.  “The plan that Anil and Tyler have come up with is sound,” she says. “It makes the most logical sense. He does work better on his and that’s the way he prefers it. Until either of you have the experience he does and it's either of your entire lives on the line, keep your opinions to yourself. No one needs to hear them.”

“As I was saying,” Yaz continues. “These are the teams you’ll be working with. At least to start out. Things are subject to change as they go on and become increasingly difficult.  Once Mahajan realizes Tyler is in Mumbai and behind the killings of his men, things will heat up and then the game plan will have to change. Now you’ll all be fitted with radios and earwigs. State of the art. Wireless. So if you have to go into a place where your mark is, they won’t make you the second you walk through the door. Communicating with each other is to be done only through the SAT phones you were given yesterday. They can’t be bright by any outside source; I’ve made sure of it.  From here on out, the marks will only be referred to by number. One to twenty five; no names. Just faces and locations. The list will be split between teams and you’ll go from there.

So far, only we’ve only been able to verify the locations of one to four. One and two will be handled tomorrow,” he  brings two black and white photographs up on the smart screen. “There are our first two marks. One and two. Tyler will be in charge of taking them out and I think it’s only fair he gets the first shot. Every morning at nine am, one and two exit their respective residences on the twelfth floor of the Grand Hyatt. Tyler will enter the elevator on the fourteen floor. I’ll have my own eyes inside the elevator, but I will  take out the hotel’s security cameras in the elevator and on floors eight to fourteen.  The only problem is that I can only have them down for three minutes before the hotel backups kick in. So Tyler has those three minutes to enter the elevator, wait for one and two to board, carry out the job, and then get off somewhere before the eighth floor. He’ll exit the hotel down the south stairwell, which doesn’t have security cameras.. Once he’s on the stairs, he’s safe to move at his own speed. But between the time he gets on the elevator and gets off it, he has three minutes. That’s it.”

“Three minutes is not a lot of time,” Koen remarks.

“About two minutes more than I need,” Tyler says. “Why are you sorry about what I’m doing?”

“Well someone has to worry about you. You obviously don’t give a shit about yourself. ��And neither do any of these people enabling you and your bullshit. Makes no sense that you’re the one working alone.”

“Wish I was working alone.”  Nathan speaks up. “No offence, Anil.  But I’ve been working alone since Nik hired me and all of a sudden I have to team up with someone? Gonna be a hard adjustment.”

“I am more than capable of being out there by myself,” Tyler informs Koen. “It’s how I’ve always done it.”

“Didn’t work so well for you in Bangladesh, did it.”

Tyler scowls. “We are NOT bringing Dhaka into this. Up until Mahajan fucked me and Saju killed almost my entire team and tried to kill me to get Ovi off me, everything was fine. Everything went fucking great. And had I not been played, Dhaka wouldn’t have ended the way it did.”

“But it DID end that way,” Koen argues. “And it almost ended permanently for you. And Esme. If you’d had someone with you…”

“I didn’t need someone with me. Were you there?”

“I’m just saying…”

“Were you there? Were you in the apartment when I took out all those hostels? Were you in the forest? Or on the streets? Were you on the bridge? Were you?”

“No. I wasn’t. But…”

“Well I was. I was there. And I did what I had to do. With the resources I had.  So don’t fucking sit there and act like you know how things went. You have no goddamn idea. So get off my ass and worry about what you need to do. This isn’t up for debate. This is the way it’s going to be. Don’t like it, leave.”

“You’re not invincible you know,” Koen informs him. “You think you are. You may think ‘cause you survived that bullet that you can survive anything.   But I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong. That your way of thinking is fucked and you need to stop just thinking about yourself and think about your wife and your kids.”

“I’m done,” Tyler pushes his chair away from the table and stands. “I’m not sitting here and listening to your shit. You weren’t there seven years ago. You weren’t the one who took a bullet to your neck.  Don’t sit there like you’re a fucking expert on Dhaka. And don’t you EVER preach to me about how I treat my wife and my kids. Everything I do is for them. Every fucking decision I make is about them and what’s best for them.”

“It’s alright.” Nik attempts to diffuse the situation, wrapping her fingers around Tyler’s wrist and tugging on his arm. “Just sit down and let Yaz finish. There’s no reason to…”

“I don’t need to be there. I know what I’m doing. The rest of you need to figure your shit out. And if any of you don’t like what Anil and I are doing, just leave. I don’t need your shit. I’ve got enough crap on my plate as it is.  The last thing I need is to sit here and listen to people bitch and moan.”

“Let’s just get through this,” Nik suggests. “Let’s just sit down and let Yaz finish and…”

“Let him go,” Koen says. “It’s what he does. He runs. When he doesn’t get his way or he doesn’t like what he’s hearing. He’s good at that. Running.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Alright...alright…” Yaz steps in front of Tyler before he can advance in Koen. “...everyone’s on edge and everyone’s getting a little heated. Take it easy. Let’s walk.”  He drapes his arm across Tyler’s shoulders, leading him out into the hall and letting the door click shut behind them.

“I don’t need to be in there,” Tyler fumes.

“I agree. You know what’s up. You know what you’re doing. Why don’t you go and get something to eat. Or go work out. Go beat the shit out of the heavy bag for an hour or two. Just get your head on straight, that’s all I ask. We need you focused. Head in the game. Got it?”

“I know what the fuck I’m doing, Yaz. I’ve done this before.”

“I know. So go and calm down and do whatever you gotta do to get a handle on this. Because you’re not going to be any good to anyone if you don’t get your shit together.. And your wife and your kids are depending on you to get this done and to get it done right. That’s all that matters. THEY’RE all that matters. Right?”

Tyler sighs heavily, then nods in agreement.

“Go cool down,” Yaz says. “Call home. You and I can sit down and talk about this later. Go on…” he jerks a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the elevator. “...before I drag you away myself.”

Tyler smirks. “I’d like to see you try.”

“It’s us smaller guys you gotta watch out for. We’re sketchy. Cagey. Haven’t you learned anything from being married to Esme for so long? The little ones are the most dangerous. Now go. Call home. Talk to your wife. Tell your kids a bedtime.  They gotta be missing you. And I know you’re missing them.”

“I’m a fucking weak bastard, aren’t I.”

“Because you love your family? There’s nothing weak about that. It’s being a goddamn human being, Tyler.  Or somewhere along the line did you forget that that’s what you are? You’re not a fucking robot. You FEEL things. If you didn’t, THEN  I’d be worried. You’re not the guy you were back in Dhaka. You’re not even the guy you were six months ago in New Zealand. So go and be human. Call home. Tell your wife you miss her and you love her. Say the same thing to your kids. Because you’re going to damn well regret NOT saying those things if this all goes to shit. And you don’t want that on your conscience.. If something happens them…to any of them...and there’s shit left unsaid, that  will fuck with your head. You’ll never survive that.”

A grin plays on his lips. “When did you get all wise and all knowing? Knock one girl up and suddenly you’ve got all the answers to life’s biggest questions?”

“Believe it or not, most of this I learned from watching you. How you are when you’re away from all of this.  The way you are with Esme and the kids. You’re totally different with them. You’ve found this separation between job you and husband and dad you and that’s fucking admirable. And you can bitch all you want about it makes you soft or that it makes you look weak or pathetic or whatever horseshit you tell yourself, but nothing can be further from the truth.  And if a guy like you can find that..that balance...that kind of peace...it gives the rest of us hope that we can too. And fuck anyone who thinks differently.”

“You’re good for my ego, Yaz.”

“Your ego needs to hear this shit sometimes. Because whether you want to believe it or not, you’re the horrible person you think you are. You think you don’t deserve the life you have. And I get it. WHY you think that. But you’ve got six people at home that love you and need you and want you around. And you do deserve that. So go and get your shit together. Clear your head. Talk to your family. Say the things you need to say. It’ll do you some good.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“You don’t want regrets, man. If shit does go wrong and something happens to you, don’t go out of this world with things left unsaid. Because that’ll be on Esme’s mind for the rest of her life. And that’s not fair to her.”

“This whole life isn’t fair to her.”

“But she chose it. When she stuck around for you. That’s what you keep forgetting. It was her choice to be with you. And nothing you could have done or said, would have changed her mind. You got a great life, Tyler.  You gotta hang onto it. No matter what .”

“That’s why I’m here. So I don’t lose that life. So I don’t lose her. Or any of my kids.”

“Take that into tomorrow. That rage you’re feeling. That need for revenge. You take that into tomorrow and the day after and the day after that? You’re walking away from here. You’re going home. You don’t get your head sorted out, you’ll be going home in a body bag. And that’s not what your family needs. Get your shit together. Go do whatever you have to do to get your head in the game, alright?” Yaz claps him on the shoulder. “Wanna go grab something to eat later? You can give me some daddy advice.”

“Yeah,” Tyler gives a small smile. “I can do that.”

“Although I don’t know if I should take advice from you; you were stupid enough to do it FIVE times.”

“Might be six. Never know.”

“You really are a crazy bastard,” Yaz chuckles, and then playfully shoves him in the direction of the elevator.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #chris hemsworth character #best part of me #extraction

[darlinrogue]

"You know,"—Kenny lifts his head, weary, from the window and glimpses Adam, exhausted as he drives through the vacant streets of whatever city he'd managed to drive to without Kenny noticing—"you mentioned a girlfriend before?" An incongruous question, perhaps, but Kenny, truthfully, has wondered often about Adam's sexuality. And at three o'clock in the morning, he and Adam have to stay awake somehow: introspection it is. "Do you, uh, only like women? You don't have to answer—"

Comfort for Sol after the Dec 2. Dynamite We NEED IT

Adam and Kenny

A light waltz rolled from the radio in three-four time. A Strauss, Künstlerleben op. 316, written in 1867, a jovial, ‘gay,’ piece. Interjected into a Vienne at the edge of disaster as Austria crumbled around the carnival city. The song infused with a melancholic melody and yearning string instruments. The decaying nobility dreams of a glory day long past and danced the inevitable fall of their dynasty away. So, explained the smooth voiced disc jockey that introduced the piece with all the confidence of a history nerd who probably got shoved in a locker in high-school. Adam wouldn’t pretend he was smart like that, this station wasn’t his first choice. After five hours in the car they had cycled through: Adam’s playlists, Kenny’s playlist, and every other radio station on air. Thirty minutes into a marathon of Norteña music, Adam cracked first and turned on the benign classical music, played on a public air wave. All just to eke out some variety from the bland monotonous strips of American highway and interstate. Besides, no words, and especially no Spanish that he only half-understood in his current state, meant it required less brain power to process. A resource that was in dwindling supply for Adam. 

Adam tapped his finger against the steering wheel in time with the waltz. Apparently, this was like old fashioned twerking. A dramatic, intimate dance where partners held each other close and danced vigorously. Despite the song being undeniably wonder bread white, Adam found a natural ebb and flow that sparked a desire to move in some way. Bob his head a little bit, tap his foot, all as he nudged the cruise control-up another notch. The car engine revved and the speedometer edged in at a solid eighty miles an hour. With no one else on the road Adam dominated the left lane. It was a pure head rush, breaking the speed limit with no restrictions and no witnesses. All while listening to a playful violin trill. Brights on, illuminating the tall cedar, oaks, and pines, twined with dense underbrush on the sides of the road. The, black, ominous trees walled the interstate, trapping them, forcing them the only way forward. The white and yellow marked pavement extended far into the twisted dark, with hints of gentle turns far off. A couple miles down the road, twin red taillights glowed like angry eyes. The mapping program on his phone noted their exit was next. He compressed the breaks, the cruise control flicked off and Adam coasted onto the ramp. 

Kenny shifted, and the movement drew Adam’s attention for a split second. Kenny sat in shotgun with the chair leaned back. His hands threaded through his hair and rubbed at his eyes. Best as Adam could tell he had spent the past three hours passed out and had not even been roused when Adam smack him for snoring. In a moment or two he was upright and alert, peering-out the window, his curly hair like the silhouette of a mop. Adam explained they were taking a diversion into Knoxville for the sole reason that Adam had to go pee. Kenny muttered his assent. 

Google Maps took them to a beat-up 24/7 gas station at the edge of the city. Moth riddled, flickering and humming, fluorescent lights illuminated the cracked pavement of the parking lot. Lined beneath the front windows was stacks of firewood, an ice machine, and a tire pressure gauge. Adam left Kenny to fill-up the tank while Adam lunged out of the car to make use of the facilities. Inside, an exhausted looking twenty-something attended the counter and her phone. Over the top of the rows of junk food riddled shelves, Adam saw the bathroom. After taking care of his physical needs, on his way-out he perused the aisle while Kenny took his turn in the Powder room. He bough a couple packages of cookies, crackers, and bags of chips. Then, a coffee from himself from a somewhat suspect machine and a bottle of 2% from the fridge, for Kenny. Adam paid at the register and sipped on his caffeine as he stepped-off the curb outside the station. Cars rolled by on the road, whispering with the heated Summer wind. Kenny, already back outside, stretched-out beside the car, his gold hair white-washed by the lights. Sliding into the front seat, Adam offered Kenny the milk on one stipulation: Adam could use it to thin his coffee. It turned-out that he had purchased mud water. Kenny agreed and they were back on the trail, navigating the downtown and suburbia, in search of the road North. The street lights faded, and into this darkness, as Adam waited for a red light to turn green, Kenny began his thought: 

You know. 

Green light, go, Adam hit the gas, and rolled through. For a second, once through the intersection, he glanced at Kenny. In the dark car, lit by the thin dashboard glow, Kenny peered at him, curious, bur not pressing. There was a glimmer in his blue eyes. Adam returned his gaze to the windshield and the passing silver screen of Knoxville scenery. A right took them back onto the highway and Adam merged with the sparse traffic as he processed what Kenny asked him. You mentioned a girlfriend before? Do you only like women? Back on the smooth sailing of the interstate, Adam sunk back in his seat and sought comfort from the shitty coffee. It tasted bitter and yet smoother with the milk. 

“You asked me two questions, there,” Adam observed, lifting a corresponding number of fingers. It’d be easy to only answer one, Kenny wouldn’t force it. He resolved, tongue darting over his chapped lips, to answer both. He reached-out and turned down the radio to but a couple notches. “And uh, well, I guess, the answer to both is it’s complicated.”

“I mean, yeah, these things usually are,” Kenny joked, he leaned back his seat a little bit and propped a foot on the dash. He glanced at the mapping program on Adam’s phone and the oppressive number of hours left, “We got time though, so take as much as you need. Like, I’m just curious is all, and if I keep sleeping in this chair I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow, Piz.”

“Well, to answer the first question,” Adam chuckled. “I did have a girlfriend, once, back in college.”

“Ah, a college sweetheart--” Kenny teased. “That’s classic.”

“Yeah,” Adam chuckled. A fond smile spread on his lips. Like those arrogant, dancing nobles in Vienne, he thought of a time long gone. “We’re still friends, you know, we talk every now and then, meet-up for lunch or something, she’s married now, pregnant, with her first kid.”

“Okay, but that’s all past tense, what happened? Give me the details, man,” Kenny said. He interlaced his hands behind his head, shifting in the car seat. “I mean, if it’s not too hard, or anything.”

Adam shrugged, one shoulder-up to his ear with casual dismissal. Maybe a few years ago it would’ve been 'hard’ but things had changed. He had changed-- or rather, something had changed around him. There was someone else now for him to be heartbroken over. The old stuff were all scars now, not wounds that leaked with the slightest prod. Not like they used to. 

“So, the deal is I went into college with like, two years of credit, yeah?” Adam said, he checked over at Kenny to make sure he was following. “You can imagine this kinda put me in a weird spot. I was a Freshman but also basically a Junior and I was taking the classes in my major right away. I didn’t make a lot of friends that way, though. So, yeah, she was a little older than me and her name was Amanda. Long black hair, dark eyes, kinda short, but pretty, she was an art student, so we met in like this advanced drawing class. And Kenny, holy shit, I have to show you pictures of some of the stuff she does, when we get to the hotel, it’s nuts. Like these hyper realistic watercolor and oil paint portraits, that look even better than the actual thing. She works as a like, a background artist in L.A., now, so she’s legit. Way better than anything I could do.”

Kenny hummed, low in his throat, and Adam took that as a cue to continue.

“So, we met in class, and, over the course of the next semester we got to know each other, really well,” he said. “Like, I was hanging-out in her apartment to do projects and she was hanging-out in my dorm. I moved in with her for my Senior year, after she graduated. She just needed a roommate, you know? And not long after that we just, kinda started dating. I don’t know, it’s-- it’s hard to describe, even now, how I felt about her. Like, just this intensity I never experienced before. I really thought I was sick, actually-- like my stomach hurt. I called my mom and she told me I was a dumbass, and that I had a crush. It’s just that I was never interested in dating in high school, like I talked to girls and stuff, went to prom with one of my friends, but nothing like, you know?” Adam made an almost helpless gesture with his hand.

He rested his palm against his thigh. His other hand guided the steering wheel. Then, real quick, Adam focused on setting-up the cruise control again. If he had to compress the gas for the whole trip, his right hip would be sore as hell by the time they reach their destination. A couple nudges and they were flying at a clean eighty again. Adam took that time to organize his thoughts. Kenny didn’t say a word, but Adam could tell he was waiting for the elaboration.

“I really thought,” Adam murmured, his voice softened, wistful. “That I was going to marry her. Like, I was going to jewlery stores, looking at engagement rings, trying to figure-out how to save-up.”

“What, really?” Kenny asked, he leaned forward in his chair, elbows digging into the arm rest. “Seriously, man?”

“Yeah, we dated for almost two years after I graduated,” Adam said. “I was working as a teacher and she was a freelance artist, it was really great. Of course, I was traveling a lot-- on account of the wrestling thing, and she came to some shows, I don’t think she really got it? Amanda was sensitive, wouldn’t hurt a fly and she didn’t really vibe with fighting. Which, is fine, I was fine with it. I mean she watched these soap operas that I didn’t get, so it was kinda even, you know? But I think all that time away from home didn’t do a lot of good for our relationship. You know I was young, Kenny, like twenty-two? And she-- she got a job in California, and we talked about it, and--”

“Just didn’t work-out, huh?” Kenny asked, voice low. 

Adam shook his head, lips pressing together into a thin line. He still recalled that conversation over the dinning room table. His hands interlaced in front of him, her on the other side, going through the logistics. She was so good at that, planning. That was something they shared in common, overthinking. This move was a dead necessity for her career. Texas just didn’t have the same opportunities that the City of Angels did. Except, Adam was training in Texas, fighting in Texas, teaching in Texas. It was the middle of the school year during his internship. He couldn’t pack-up and leave. The suggestion she came to was obvious but it didn’t make it easy. They break-up, go their separate ways, not try to force all of this to work to the determent of them both. For years Adam cursed himself for agreeing. He believed, as he laid in bed alone and cold, ruminating on his failures, he should’ve fought harder. Fought harder for them. Hung-up on what could’ve and should’ve been. It hurt more when she found a new guy in California. He still went to her wedding and was her best man. Because Adam still loved Amanda and he always would. 

And he was okay with being next to her, because their relationship, their bond, was more important than his wounded pride. 

“Yeah, it didn’t work-out,” Adam agreed. “I was, upset, for a while. A long while, actually, like, I really thought I’d never get another chance like her again, but--”

He paused, and ended the thought there. Amanda was so amazing, so brilliant, so awesome, and funny, and caring and kind, and she loved cats. She picked out local art for their apartment. Yet, Adam also remembered her occasional moods where she just couldn’t be talked to until the storm passed. The way she set her mind on things was sometimes endearing, sometimes frustrating. She wasn’t perfect, but she was great. It was apples-to-oranges, to compare her and Kenny. They were completely different people and Adam loved different things about them-- yet, it was still love. It couldn’t be measured or quantified. The only time he had ever felt this intensity before was with Amanda. He really didn’t think there was another person on this planet who could steal his heart like Amanda did. Then he met Kenny, and fell in love with Kenny.

And whoops, there was at least one other. 

“You know, you live, you grow, you move-on,” Adam said, he shrugged again and nodded to himself. “If we hadn’t split I probably never would’ve gone to Japan, or met you and the Bucks. Or, joined AEW, never been tag-team champion. It’s a real Robert Frost poem, I could be a teacher in L.A. right now, instead of-- well, driving eight hours to Chicago in the middle of the night, but my point stands! I-I imagine you get it, picking between your career and well, sometimes relationships.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get,” Kenny muttered. He looked out the window. His nails scrapped against his jeans. “You know how it was with me and Ibushi. How leaving Japan felt. Especially, after we reconciled after so many years-- but that’s how it is.” He trailed off, leaving the thought behind.

“So, like, were you two ever,” Adam interjected. He glanced over at the same time Kenny did. Adam darted his gaze back to the red, feeling his cheeks heat and rosette. A deep appreciation for the late hour filled him. “I mean, like, I don’t know how to ask this. Were, you and Ibushi, you know, together? Like, together, together. Obviously, it’s not my business, but I’m just, just curious, is all. Like, the Golden Lovers, man? There’s some crazy rumors out there.”

Kenny laughed, a full chuckle that churned Adam’s stomach and yet set his face on fire. That sound made Adam feel warm, he wanted to hear it again desperately. “Yeah, Kota and I dated. We were together for like six years, and yeah, like you, if same-sex marriage was legal in Japan, I would’ve married him.”

It was such an upfront statement. a matter of fact If he could, he would, but the lack of gold ring on Kenny’s left finger told Adam he didn’t. Kenny nodded to himself but the silence lingered, the sentence wasn’t finished. The clock turned over to 3:23 and they passed an exit with bleeding, gold lights, with hotels, restaurants, and street lamps. 

Kenny continued, but his voice was softer and more raw. “But then-- well, I screwed it up. I mean, I really messed-up. It wasn’t like you and your girl, where it was a pretty understanding with a clean break. I didn’t trust him, like I should. I thought he was going to leave me and so, I left first. Then like an idiot, I lashed-out, and ruined everything we built, and it ended. Just. Like. That--” Kenny snapped his fingers-- “We never got back together but, we’re friends again, we made-up, you know that, but the things I did, the things I did to Kota-- it's something I'll have to live with for the rest of my life.”

The night hid Adam’s expression. The darkness was a comfort. It hid the monsters in the back seat. The purr of the engine whispered in the absence of Kenny’s scathing indictment of himself. Like, he was judge, jury, and executioner, of his own tarnished soul. Adam could imagine what Kenny saw. His face in profile, the tree line whipping by the car windows, an impassive, emotionless, and neutral party, listening without comment to Kenny’s story. He wouldn’t  see the slight grimace or twisting of Adam’s lips. Remembering all the shit Cody said about Ibushi. Adam, twisting Ibushi, Kenny’s arms back, while Cody reared with a chair. Holy fuck, was he such an embarrassing idiot, a complete moron, a destructive piece of shit. If Kenny saw the guilt in Adam’s eyes their conversation would screech to a sudden halt. Akin to if Adam slammed the breaks on the car right now. Instead, Adam allowed Kenny to mourn and didn’t derail to his own bullshit. It was the only way he would’ve heard the next bit, whispered into open air. 

“He really was the first man I loved.”

Kenny sighed and leaned back into his seat, defeated, limp. Now, Adam realized, was definitely time to shift gears. Car analogies aside, Kenny couldn’t be left to ruminate. If there was a person who understood how much it sucked to obsess over an old ex, it was Adam Page. 

“So, you’re like, gay?” Adam asked. He placed both of his hands on the wheel. Shifting, he rubbed his fingers over the rubber and plastic, feeling the coarse texture. Sweat pricked his palms and he heard his pulse skip, skip, and then it was off to the races. “That’s cool by the way, I’m totally cool with that, I mean--”

“Close, but actually, I’m bi,” Kenny said. He chuckled and then nudged Adam’s elbow with his hands. The brief, familiar contact enabled Adam to crack a grin. “Bisexual, guys, gals, non-binary pals, it’s all good to me. I know I don’t talk about it a lot. It’s not something I really like to have out there, circulating. It could cause problems in Japan, and it could be a whole thing, but I trust you. We’re partners, and, it’s kinda something I want you to know, actually.”

Adam grinned to himself and nodded along with Kenny points. He straightened in his seat, wiggling his butt back so his shoulders were flush with the chair. With a crick of his neck he popped a vertebrae with a satisfying ‘clunk.’ 

“Yeah, I was, actually going to say,” Adam began, he swallowed. “I uh-- I am too, bi, I mean, like I think I am. I haven’t tested it but, I’m, pretty sure. I haven’t... done anything, with a guy, before? I just have these feelings? Right, you know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Kenny said, drawing-out the syllable. Adam could hear the smile in his voice. “I know how it is. I know, I get it, it’s all in your chest, right?” Kenny moved his hand over his heart to indicate what he meant. “You see a guy and it all kinda clicks in your brain, same way it does for a girl. I get it.”

“You know I don’t think I’ve ever really told anyone that,” Adam said, a little breathless. 

Kenny shifted and his chair cranked upright. A fleeting, fluttering touch on his left elbow drew Adam’s gaze down. Kenny placed his hand on the center console between them, palm-up. He wiggled his fingers, an expectant invitation. Adam steadied his grip on the steering wheel and wiped his right hand down his jeans to clean the sweat off. He laid his hand in Kenny’s and Kenny interlaced their fingers, then squeezed. Adam wondered if Kenny could feel his stuttering pulse through the connected vital points of their wrists. Or, if he minded that Adam’s hands were damp. Yet, his nerves and troubled thoughts soothed, mostly to a stream of ecstatic proclamations about how he was holding hands with Kenny. 

“I appreciate you being honest, Piz,” Kenny said. “I know it’s hard. Especially, when maybe you don’t have all the answers, but I’m glad you’ve figured some of it out. I don’t think I knew until I was in my twenties-- how about you?”

“Not long,” Adam admitted. Feelings, ideas since he was in high school, but nowadays he was totally certain. he rubbed his thumb over Kenny’s knuckles. Kenny had long, thin fingers, but a strong grip. Adam could feel his coarse callouses. The warmth of his hand. “In a way I always knew, this has always been a part of me. It was Amanda who helped me figure out the name for it, though.”

So, you’re bi, Amanda had said and Adam had stared at her like he was an idiot. Anytime Adam was around Amanda he felt like an idiot, but only because she was so smart. She had laughed at him and sipped on her beer. They sat outside on the porch, in cool Spring air, a rare balmy day at the outskirts of Los Angeles. She told him she was pregnant. He told her about Kenny. It was a fair exchange-- until Amanda asked him to be her kids godfather, or something similar, or whatever. And Adam had actually started crying, like a total sap. Yeah, yeah of course, that kid’ll be the best fucking horse rider this side of the Mississippi. She patted him on the shoulder and told him she’ll be cheering for him and Kenny. Next time she watched AEW-- because she did that every now and then these days. 

She really liked Sonny Kiss-- Adam always knew she had good taste.

“She sounds great,” Kenny noted.

“She is,” Adam agreed, nodding. “If you ever get to meet her, I’d think you’d like her.”

Adam cocked a slight grin. Something was lighter in him, the air a little clear. It felt better, it felt right, to say it. Adam Page is bisexual, he likes guys and girls, and other stripes of human beings. It was the only way he could feel what he felt for Kenny. Exactly like it was for Amanda. Stomach full of butterflies, every emotion magnified to a soul-aching need, so Adam was raw and on edge. This terror, nausea, built like a screaming tea-kettle, into agony the demanded a release to relieve the pressure. This time, though, Adam found no outlet. Amanda was the one asked him out first, to the movies, to see The Avengers. He remembered sitting in the darkness of the theater, alone and sweaty, until she laid her head on his shoulder. Amanda who confessed first and who drew-out of Adam the depth of his feelings. Now that Adam thought about it, it was Amanda who texted first, Amanda who called first, Amanda who kissed first. Amanda who broke it off first. Adam Page was not known for taking the initiative in his relationships. Yet, he always figured it out, caught-up learned, and followed her lead. If he could just do the same for him and Kenny-- that was a pipe dream so obscure it almost made Adam scoff.

He couldn’t ruin another good friendship, he just couldn’t. 

Adam was running out of bridges to burn. 

“You know, it’s weird,” Adam said. “Because it’s like, I’ve never done anything, with a uh, you know-- a man before. The opportunity has never really come-up. I just kinda wonder, how am I supposed to know these feelings are real?”

“Well, I don’t know if I can answer that one for you, Page,” Kenny said. “But I definitely didn’t know until I met Ibushi. Then, it was real obvious. Yet, I always had a sense of it.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Adam murmured. He squeezed Kenny’s hand and Kenny squeezed back. 

He definitely got it. At first, in the infancy of these feelings he’d thought they’d die or go away, like a bad head cold. Because Kenny Fucking Omega, could never love Adam Page. They were not in the same league, the best wrestler in the world and the weak link of the Elite. Then they were tag-team partners, and absence is not what makes a heart grow fonder, presence is. Long car drives,  where they shot the breeze about anything and everything-- just like this. Hours spent chilling in the same hotel room, showing each other stupid memes, or watching TV together. Plane rides with their heads stacked on each other and complaining about the pressure change. Working-out in the weight rooms and spotting for each other. Training together, practicing the Last Call ‘till they got it right and didn’t fucking hit each other anymore. The longer Adam spent with Kenny Omega, the more certain he was that he loved him. 

Loved him in a way he’d only felt once before. Loved him in a way that was different than how Adam felt about his mother. It was love, 100% all the way, love. True love-- wove, twue wove, to quote a good movie. Love that had all sorts of implications not just for his relationship with Kenny but Adam’s relationship with himself. How he understood himself and who he was. At twenty-nine years he was uncovering more and more about the person of Adam Page, the Hangman. Most of it, Adam didn’t like. Some of it, he did like, and he did like loving Kenny. Even if all he got to do was hold hands and talk. 

“There’s a pool at the hotel,” Kenny said, suddenly, breaking Adam from his introspection.

“Yeah?” Adam asked. 

“Yeah, I checked it out earlier,” Kenny said. “Listen, after we pass-out for a few hours-- you wanna go swimming? Of course, there’s the weight room and all that, we can do a few sets, blah, blah, blah-- but I wanna go swimming too.”

“I didn’t pack swim shorts-- did you?” Adam laughed. He had to wiggle his hand free, unfortunately, from Kenny’s grip so he could make a lane change. 

“Bro,” Kenny stated, and Adam could feel Kenny’s eyes drilling into the side of his face. Intent, focused, and dead serious, “We have large, ample salaries as the Tag-Team Champions of AEW that can fix that problem.”

“Fair point,” Adam admitted. He shuffled his hands on the wheel a little bit and then cracked a big grin. “But yeah, I’m down to work-out, I need to work on my bi-ceps.”

Silence, total silence, Adam shot Kenny the most shit eating grin. For a moment Kenny stared at him, wordless, as if processing that nuclear bomb. Adam had to return his eyes to the road. Then, Kenny smacked Adam’s shoulder. Adam laughed and then laughed harder, when he heard Kenny break into chuckles. 

“Do you think Tony Khan will let us change our team name to the Bisons?” Adam asked.

“No,” Kenny wheezed, his voice strained. He covered his eyes with his hands, shoulders shaking. “No, I don’t think so.”

In the wake of the laughter, Adam settled. Kenny leaned back his seat and despite his fear of cramps, was dozing in a few minutes. Dawn broke before they hit Cincinnati, a brilliant glow of purple, pinks, and golds on a distant blue horizon. It was right to Adam, to park on the 3rd level of the deck and to haul all their shit out of the car. Check-in, bleary eyed at the front desk, and then shuffle into the elevator, with a bagel, stolen from the breakfast, wedged in his mouth. Brush his teeth in the bathroom, kick off his shoes and pants, and then flop into bed. He vaguely recalled Kenny telling him good morning before they fell asleep. 

#ofgrief #‘The Hangman’ || Adam: IC #‘Deals with God’ || Adam: Verse #‘Beloved’ || Adam and Kenny

[lamiasluck]

Jailbird

Summary: After a particularly bad adventure, Illinois finds himself in a tough spot. He got arrested. So him, being the man that can't be cooped up, decides to plan his escape. However, fate has decided that he doesn't deserve something that easy. So his plans hit a bump in the road when he accidentally pisses off a certain prisoner.

Characters: Yancy & Illinois

Warnings: Minor violence and fights

Words: 1719

Read on AO3! 

Chapter Two  Chapter Three

-

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.

It was because he panicked. He panicked and now look what happened.

Illinois got arrested.

It was something stupid, truly. Oh, he shouldn’t trespass here! Oh, this is a government protected historical sight. Oh, stop resisting!

Bullshit. An adventurer like him shouldn’t be held down like that.

They took everything, absolutely everything. His clothes, his treasures, his dignity as a well-known adventurer. Even his hat, his goddamn hat. How could they disgrace him so? At this point he knew that Lady Luck screwed him over. But it didn’t matter what he thinks, what mattered was how he was going to fix this.

Illinois scanned his surroundings to try to spark ideas. There were lots of people - criminals - that eyed him like children to a fish tank. Lots of security, too, there was no way he could escape without losing an arm here. Alone, at least. The security looked tough, but the prisoners had their fair amount of strength by the looks of it. Either way… Illinois was probably going to charm one or the other.

First, Illinois looked around for the “leader”. Every scene like this had one, even the toughest guy had to respect someone. He looked around for the brooding ones. Tatoos, scars, the whole nine yards. As intimidating as those guys were, Illinois was surprised with everyone flocking to some random guy. Sure, he looked pretty tough, not as tough looking as others though, and not as harsh on the eyes as Illinois assumed he’d be.

“So I heard there’s a new guy in ‘ere?” the man asked, voice booming over the sea of prisoners. Immediately everyone looked at Illinois. Yep, this was definitely the leader.

The man paced slowly to Illinois, crossing his arms while puffing out his chest. He even had a different aura than the other prisoners. He was clearly in charge and knew that fact very well. Illinois kept his face neutral as the man stood in front of him.

“Allow me to give youse a warm welcome.” He opened his arms and gestured to everyone else. “I’m Yancy, glad to meet ya.”

“Name’s Illinois, it’s a pleasure. However, I’m afraid I can’t stay for too long,” he explained, quirking an eyebrow at Yancy’s confused expression.

“Why’s that?”

“Adventure calls, my friend~” No one reacted to his charming attitude. At least, no good reactions. “There’s been a mistake, I’m afraid. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh come on! It’s not so bad ‘ere. Youse are gonna fit right in.” The prisoners began to exchange suspicious looks amongst each other before staring at Illinois again. They fidgeted while Yancy talked.

“I’m sorry, but you don’t understand.” Illinois’ composure cracked. “I can’t be kept here. They can’t keep someone like me here!”

“Well… what ‘someone’ are youse?” Yancy’s tone turned cold and in an instant the other prisoners glared at him. Illinois glanced between all of their hostile gazes, like a pack of wolves to a rabbit. Looks like he upset the pack leader.

He caught himself panicking again. If panicking in his adventure got him in jail, who knows what could happen if he panicked here? He certainly wasn’t charming the prisoners at this rate.

“I mean no offense, Yancy.” Illinois raised his hands as if he were surrendering. “I’m just an adventurer, a thrillseeker, if you will. I’m sure this place is as charming as you say, but it’s just not for me.”

“Oh, I see…” Yancy turned to the others, smiling like the Chesire cat. A simple chuckle from him sent the group in fits of laughter. “We gots ourselves one of ‘em freebirds, yeah?”

“I guess you could say that.” Illinois ignored everyone’s judging looks, stepping closer to Yancy and leaning in. “I was hoping you could help free this bird,” he whispered.

Yancy laughed again. “As if,” he sneered.

Illinois huffed, but still cracked a tight smile. “Is that how’s it’s going to be, jailbird?” He tilted his head, which caused Yancy to scowl. “Then don’t worry about me. I’ll find another way out of here.” He turned on his heels to saunter off, only for Yancy to grab him by the shoulders and turn him around again.

“Youse think you’re so special, yeah? Well, hate to break it to youse,” Yancy pretended to ponder to himself, “No, actually I’d love to break it to youse! You’re no better than any other scumbag in ‘ere.” He shoved Illinois away from him, the adventurer stumbled but caught himself. “And if I gotta show you,” he went into a fighting stance, “I’m more than happy to welcome youse.”

Illinois’ eyes widen. The other prisoners began to cheer and encourage Yancy’s actions. He raised his hands up again in a surrendering gesture. “I’m not here to fight.”

“Then you’re here to get beaten up.”

Illinois was never one for fights, as shown by his unsure movements and seconds too late reactions. It was surprising how often his personality got him out of trouble. Though, Lady Luck really must hate him today.

Illinois fell to the ground after a hard hit to the jaw. He groaned and clutched his face, barely registering the chorus of laughs above him. Yancy snickered and turned his back to face the crowd.

“All bark, no bite.” Admittedly, he had his fair amount of bruises and cuts, but he was still standing. He ran his tongue over his busted lip as he reveled in the other’s impressed cheers. He tasted bitter blood and sweet victory at the same time.

A deep frown was plastered on Illinois’ face as he stared up at Yancy through a bruised eye. He clenched his fists. Even if Illinois was never good with fights, he was always resourceful.

Yancy fell to the ground with a yelp when Illinois landed a sharp kick to his shins. Before he could react, Illinois dug his knee into his chest and punched him. “I’m not done yet, jailbird,” Illinois growled at the dazed prisoner. He never let Yancy recover as he threw punch after punch. “I am getting out of here. One way or another.” He raised his hand once more, only to be abruptly grabbed from behind.

“Now what is going on here?!” the warden called out from within the crowd. The guard that grabbed Illinois’ arm pulled him up and twisted his arms behind his back in a painful angle. Yancy received the same treatment, staring fearfully as the warden slowly approached.

“Let me go-!” Illinois gasped.

“Well what do we have here?” The warden stood in front of Illinois. “You just shown up and you’re already starting fights?” He shook his head.

“He started it,” he replied, glaring at Yancy.

“Now that’s not a surprise…” the warden sighed and turned on his heels. Yancy continued to cower in his presence. “What have I told you, boy? You can’t keep doing this.”

“W-Warden,” Yancy stuttered, “Youse don’t understand I-”

“Send him to solitary!” Immediately the guard escorted Yancy out of the room, ignoring his desperate pleads. The warden turned back to Illinois and pointed at him. “And you.”

Illinois swallowed the lump in his throat, breathing heavily.

“You’re going to get a warning, new guy.” He gave him a hard pat on the shoulder and gripped harshly. “But if I ever, and I mean ever, hear another peep outta you… well, you won’t want to hear the punishment. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded frantically.

“Take him to his cell.”

-

This jail must love to surprise Illinois. His cell was oddly homey upon first glance. Besides the dull grey walls, it was decorated like a cheap hotel room, which was more than he could expect. There was even a small TV in the corner! Still, Illinois ignored it all in favour for rest. His head throbbed in pain. At least the guards had the decency to give him bandaids and cleaned the blood. There was a bunk bed that Illinois gladly hopped up on top of. The bed creaked which only added to his growing headache.

The silence was killing him.

A pained groan was the only sound in the confined room. Illinois covered his eyes with his arm and tried to get some sleep. The gravity of the situation was like a boulder crushing every fibre of his being. Even thinking about staying cooped up away from society - away from adventure - was hell.

He doesn’t keep track of how long he slept, but eventually he hears the cell door unlock and someone shuffle in. A cellmate was a thought that barely crossed his mind, but he had no energy to complain.

“Youse got a deathwish? That’s my bunk,” a familiar voice said.

Oh, fuck.

Illinois cracked one eye open and, yep, Yancy stood before him with that same pissed off look. At this point he was surprised that a laugh track didn’t start playing at his misfortune. While he didn’t have enough energy to complain about his situation, he did have the energy to be snarky.

“I didn’t realize I was dealing with prison royalty here,” Illinois grumbled. “Why don’t you take the bottom bunk tonight? Less work for you.” He covered his eyes again and pretended to ignore the fuming prisoner.

“Why don’t you sleep in a ditch? Youse ain’t gonna last one more day with this shitty attitude.” Yancy snapped.

“I don’t care…”

Yancy blinked in surprise. “What?”

“I said, I don’t care,” He uncovered his eyes briefly to glare at Yancy, but quickly laid back down. “We already fought. Just sleep for god’s sake.”

Yancy stood dumbfounded. As much as he wanted to argue back, he was quite tired as well. All the bandages in the world didn’t help him stop swaying from nausea, nor did it help in in the dark cramped room of solitary. So he frowned and collapsed on the bottom bunk. Just for today, of course, because no new guy was going to boss him around like that.

“I won, by the way,” Yancy huffed, glaring at the top bunk as if Illinois could see him.

“Tell yourself that, jailbird. Maybe you’ll sleep better.” Illinois grunted when he suddenly felt Yancy kick his bed. This was going to be a long and excruciating adventure…

#Yancy #illinois #ahwm #markiplier #markiplier egos #fanfic

[igirisuhito]

Title: Afflicted Relationship(s): Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito Rating: Mature Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / ? Chapter Summary: Komaeda visits Hinata, tensions rise Trigger Warnings: Personality issues, forced kissing, IV stuff

[Ao3 Link]

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

Ding dong, bing bong

The monitor rang with a familiar sound, the one that brought me from my sleep every morning since arriving on the island. I didn't bother to pay any attention to Monokuma's message, it was the same as it was everyday, pre-recorded drivel.

I rolled over, letting out a loud sigh before sitting up. My sleep was fine, but I couldn't help but feel a little worried about the direction this incident was taking. It was so immature of the Ultimates to panic over a measly illness and try to quarantine everyone! Souda and Kuzuryuu's hope had shined through miraculously, Souda putting together an effective way to communicate with such scarce resources whilst Kuzuryuu continued to sacrifice himself for the sake of others!

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I rose to my feet and stretched my arms over my head. Despite everybody's efforts, I still had to return to the hospital to assist Tsumiki. It was unlikely that she had rested either, especially considering Hinata's unusual behaviour. I wonder if she finally convinced him to accept treatment?

I wandered into the bathroom and picked up my toothbrush, wetting the brush then squeezing some toothpaste on. As I brushed my teeth, I found myself once again pondering the significance of the despair disease.

In the beginning, I realised that the disease represented the opposite of both Mioda and Owari's personalities. Mioda is usually a free spirit who refuses to take orders from anyone and Owari is a strong lady who isn't afraid of anything. I wasn't so sure about Hinata, however. If the opposite of apathy is enthusiasm, well that certainly wasn't a word I would use to describe him.

Hinata was, if anything, incredibly unenthusiastic.

After pausing the motions for a moment and biting down on the brush, I brought my hand to my chin in contemplation.

But if we think of the opposite of apathy being passion or concern, that would be much more accurate. Hinata could always be seen stressing out over something . He tried so very hard to hide it, but the way he pressed his hand to his lips whenever deep in thought truly gave it away. Not to mention the fact his confident façade usually came crashing down during a rebuttal, revealing an incredibly nervous personality beneath.

Ah, I really do think about Hinata-kun too much, huh? I must be forgetting my place. Especially after I so shamelessly spied on him changing through the crack in the door yesterday after bringing him his gown. How indecent, this little fascination of mine seems to be developing into a bit more than just 'thoughts'.

I rinsed my mouth with water and left the bathroom, ignoring the stupid burning in my face.

I picked up the jeans I had left neatly folded on the end of my bed, holding them by the waist and allowing the fabric to unfold itself. I then stepped one leg at a time into them before pulling them up to my waist and doing up my belt.

Sitting myself down on the edge of the bed, I pulled my shoes out from underneath and slipped my feet into them. I did up the zips and then made my way back into the bathroom.

As I leaned my hands onto the sink, I stared back at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were tired, dull, empty. The skin was much too pale, a disgusting shade of pasty white. My hair was thin and wispy, too delicate to bother brushing. Not to mention I was pathetically skinny, as if a too-strong gust of wind would knock me right off my feet.

Disgusting.

I forced myself to give the mirror a big smile and left the cottage, grabbing my jacket on the way out.

As I slung the jacket over my shoulders, I stepped out onto the boardwalk. Water swished beneath the planks, creating an oddly foreign sensation as if I was floating. I began walking, leaving the hotel area before making my way over the bridge to Jabberwock park, then across the bridge to the third island.

There was a cool breeze coming off the water that left a salty taste on my lips. The sun was hot, but never to an intolerable level. I don't think I ever felt too hot whilst I was here, which was somewhat peculiar. I'd always been rather sensitive to heat, had things changed during the years I had forgotten?

Suppressing the thought, I pushed open the door to the hospital, drawing the attention of the people awaiting inside. Tsumiki and Kuzuryuu were standing in the reception, presumably they had been talking.

"Komaeda, you're late. I seriously didn't think you were gonna fuckin' show up today." The gangster hissed.

"I'm so very sorry, I never intended to waste your precious time waiting for my worthless self." I smiled, waving casually.

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"No! Not at all! It wasn't my intention to sound like a liar!"

Kuzuryuu clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Whatever. Souda should be calling us soon to give us an update."

I nodded in acknowledgement and turned to Tsumiki, who was standing to the side with her teeth worrying her bottom lip and her hands clasped together tightly. "Good morning Tsumiki-san."

She jumped slightly and looked up at me. "Ah! G-good morning K-Komaeda-san!"

"How is everybody doing?"

"N-not great…e-everybody is in a s-stable condition…but Mioda and Hinata-san have been a little…d-difficult."

"How so, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Mioda-san has a t-tendency to get up and walk around, I guess. H-Hinata-san has just been…stubborn."

I laughed softly. "Mioda-san has always been like that though, she's difficult to keep in one place! Truly such a lively spirit."

Tsumiki-san nodded in agreeance. "Well…if you would like to see any of them, I think everybody's awake."

"I may check in with Hinata-kun after we receive word from Souda. He was quite ill yesterday so I think it would be good to see how he's doing." At that moment, the light on the monitor began to flash blue, signally somebody on the other end attempting to make contact. "Ah, what perfect timing."

Kuzuryuu answered the call as Tsumiki bowed and returned to the hospital's ward. The screen lit up with an image of Souda at the music venue. It seemed some of the others were there as well, standing further away from the camera.

"Hellooooo!? How is it? Can you see my handsome face?" His joyful voice screeched from the speakers.

"Yeah. We can see your ugly mug." Kuzuryuu grumbled in response, likely in retaliation towards the mechanic's flippant attitude.

"Hmph! Well, we're all good on our end too, can see your sad ass faces bright and clear."

I squinted, peering closely at the people displayed on the monitor. "Is Saionji-san not with you?"

Tanaka chuckled, crossing his arms across his chest with a knowing smile. "It seems you've noticed our missing party member. Alas, her cowardice knows no bounds, and she has declared us to be her adversaries!"

Sonia cleared her throat, signalling that she was willing to elaborate on Tanaka's rambling. "She has locked herself in her room. She declared that she wouldn't be coming out until the despair disease had been cured…"

How unfortunate, no Ultimate should be willing to give up hope so easily!

"Saionji-san aside, what about you? How are you guys doing?" Nanami piped up suddenly.

"Shit. How else would we be doing?" Kuzuryuu hissed.

"Yeah yeah." Souda sighed, scratching his cheek. "Well none of you guys are sick yet, right?"

"I doubt the disease would have such a short incubation period. We're all still in good health! Although…" I trailed off a little, looking towards the ground as I thought.

"Although?"

"We'd be much better off with more hands on deck! Surely you agree, Souda-kun?"

"Hell no! Ugh it's like you want us all to get sick!" Souda groaned, pointing an accusatory finger towards the camera.

I waved, dismissing his accusation. "Of course not! There's no point in everyone catching despair disease."

"Guys!! Please stop fighting!" Monomi's shrill voice suddenly cut through the air. I'm pretty sure a few groans of displeasure came from the other side of the screen.

"Huh? Are you seriously over there, Monomi?" I blinked a few times, disbelieving in what I was seeing.

"Y-yes! It's too dangerous for me to get close to the hospital when I don't even know what's going on there…" She grabbed hold of her ears with her tiny stuffed paws as she spoke, seemingly nervous.

Kuzuryuu's face pinched into a snarl. "You're fucking kidding me…why would a goddamn stuffed animal need to worry about catching a disease?!"

"Uwaaah! Please don't discriminate! The d-despair disease is horrible and dangerous, it can even destroy this whole island! I know it seems inappropriate, especially since I'm your teacher, but until we can figure out how to deal with it…I'm gonna be on this side…"

Kuzuryuu lunged forward, the scowl still twisting his expression as he hit the button on the monitor. The screen flicked off, leaving only our reflections staring back at us.

"That shitty stuffed animal, she's seriously fuckin' useless! God I'm pissed off!" Kuzuryuu spat, absolutely seething as his small frame shook with rage. I opened my mouth to say something, but recalling how Hinata had reacted to my words about Pekoyama's sacrifice just the other day, I decided against it and shut up.

Kuzuryuu seemed to pull himself back together without my help. "Argh, dammit. It's not worth it…I'm gonna go get some fresh air."

And so he left, leaving me all alone in the hospital lobby.

Alone, in the hospital…

I shivered and wrapped my arms tightly around myself. There was nothing we could do right now but wait, wait and hope things get better. But…it probably wouldn't hurt to go check up on Tsumiki, or Hinata, or anyone for that matter.

As long as I'm not alone here.

Shaking off the thought, I pushed open the door to the hospital ward.

It was surprisingly quiet, empty. All the patients were in their rooms, Tsumiki was standing in the hallway, wringing her hands nervously as she glanced between the ward's entrance and the stairs. She seemed to perk up as soon as I entered her line of sight. "Oh, Komaeda-san! H-how are the o-others?"

I smiled as I approached slowly, lowering my voice a little to match the volume of hers. "I think they're doing okay. Saionji's apparently holed up in her room though, she's scared of catching the disease."

"Oh! Th-that's good to hear! I-I mean! I-I-It's really unfortunate!" Tsumiki stammered out, waving her hands.

"Hey, it's okay, I know what you're trying to say. It's wonderful that everyone's doing okay, but sad that Saionji's seemingly given up hope, right?"

Tsumiki stopped her arm waving and now stared with a rather flustered expression. "Y-yes…something like that…"

"Anyway, is Hinata-kun awake? I'd like to see how he's doing." I questioned, glancing towards the door of the second room.

"O-oh! Of c-course, he's been up for a l-little while, you're f-free to see him…" Tsumiki smiled a little, but spoke again before I went to thank her. "I should m-mention before you go in…H-Hinata-san's a little…mentally unwell."

I blinked a few times, a little perplexed. "Huh? I might be stepping out of my place in asking this, but isn't everyone? I don't think Owari-san's stopped crying since she got here."

"Y-yes th-that's true! I-it's just…Hinata's been a little…delusional. I-I'm a bit worried he m-might try to hurt you…"

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, tempting me to laugh at the thought. Hinata could barely stand yesterday, it would be most surprising if he was able to kill me in such a state. But if it's Tsumiki who's concerned it's likely warranted. "Please don't worry, I can fight off Hinata-kun if need be. I know I may look disgustingly scrawny but I'm stronger than I seem!"

Tsumiki gave me a concerned glance, but left with a soft "O-okay then." Now that I had her approval, I made my way up to the door and rapped my knuckles lightly against the timber.

"Komaeda." A rather monotone sounding voice spoke from the other side. I assumed it was permission to enter and turned the doorknob, slowly pushing open the door.

Hinata was out of his bed, situated near a white cabinet. In his hand he held a flower, one he must have plucked from the potted plant in front of him. He didn't turn around upon hearing me enter the room, choosing to instead keep his eyes fixated on the flora before him.

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, the second the door clicked shut Hinata spoke. "Do you know about the significance of the red spider lily, Komaeda?"

"Ah, I don't actually. I'm not well versed in flower meanings." I gave him a soft smile, rather interested in his strange choice of conversation.

"Legend has it that they grow in hell and guide the dead to their next reincarnation. I wonder if that's why it was planted in this room."

"Are you implying this place is hell?" I questioned.

Hinata glanced back at me, a judgemental gaze. It was almost as if he saw straight through me, picking me apart piece by piece like a raven devouring roadkill. A shiver went down my spine as he spoke again. "Do you honestly believe otherwise?"

"A-A hospital room is a place teeming with despair. But that's what makes it a perfect birthplace for a stronger hope!" With a wide grin on my face, I spread my arms excitedly. Hinata simply stared back with an unamused looking expression.

He was silent for a moment before averting his eyes from me and back to the flower. "I believe this was placed here on purpose as a means of reminding me of what I'm here for. I'm merely being guided towards my reincarnation as Hinata Hajime."

"I…don't quite understand what you mean."

"That's to be expected."

I sighed, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket. Hinata-kun was so incredibly puzzling, I couldn't help but resent the way this disease was making him act, as if he knew something, everything that we didn't yet would never tell if you asked. It felt as if I was talking to a completely different person, Hinata was an empty emotionless shell that not even despair inhabited.

But for some reason, he wasn't pushing me away like he usually did. Whether it was from simply being too exhausted from the disease, or perhaps he had changed his outlook, either way it was more than I deserved. Scum like myself didn't deserve to get close to somebody as radiant as Hinata-kun.

Hinata finally diverted his attention from the plant and turned to me. "So, the others are staying in the Hotel to avoid contagion, correct?"

"Huh? Yes that's right." I affirmed. "But on that note, how did you even know it's contagious? You had already fainted by the time Monokuma disclosed that information to us."

Hinata pursed his lips together before taking a small breath. "The fact that Souda didn't want to escort me to the hospital told me all I needed to know, it's unusual for him to refuse help to an acquaintance out of sheer laziness. The proof that Monokuma had informed the class was in your enthusiasm to assist."

I blinked a few times. Hinata was good at putting the pieces together slowly, but I don't recall him ever being this quick witted…

Wait. "What do you mean 'my enthusiasm to assist'?"

Hinata's eyes narrowed, similar to the way he'd focus when accusing somebody in the courtroom. "There's only been a single occasion where you have stepped up like this, rather than allowing others to do so, and that occasion was when you were planning a murder."

My body seized up. It felt as if time began to slow down and I could feel my heart thumping loudly in my chest. Hinata was suddenly no longer by the cabinet, but now standing eye to eye with me. His nose was bare millimetres away from my own with his breath hot on my face.

Why is my heart racing? What is this sensation?

Attraction?

Fear?  

With Hinata so close, I found myself taking in every sight and sensation. The teen's lightly tanned skin, his cheeks flushed with fever. His chapped lips, irritated and a rosy red colour. The murky swirls deep within hazel eyes, glassy and sunken with fatigue. Even if he wasn't showing it, he was undoubtedly ill.

Hinata's lips parted, dry skin slowly sticking apart from one another. "Your intentions lie in dangerous places. You either are planning take advantage of our diseased states and murder Mioda, Owari, or myself…"

He paused, brushing his thumb against my chin before taking hold in a light grip.

"Or, the more likely scenario, you want to spread the despair disease, indirectly causing a murder."

This is too much. I must be going insane.

This isn't the Hinata Hajime I know.  

I let out a raspy little chuckle and grinned at the other boy, feeling a strange emotion bubbling up in my chest. It was so incredibly disappointing that he had caught on to my plans, but I couldn't help but be intrigued by his newfound insight.

"I was right on, wasn't I? How exactly do you intend to pull something like this off?" Hinata spoke, his voice almost a whisper.

"I had a few different ideas. The one currently playing out involves Souda-san. You see, if luck is in my favour, he has already picked up the despair disease from merely touching your arms, the symptoms have yet to manifest. He's the diseased hiding among the healthy, rendering the quarantine completely pointless." I took in a shaky breath as a smile grew on my lips.

"The hope born from every single Ultimate falling into despair will be magnificent! Even now you're all fighting so hard against it! I can't even imagine what it will be like to watch you all piece yourselves back together, trying to understand what the despair disease truly meant whilst figuring out the motive for the murder. I can hardly wait!" I wrapped my arms around my waist, holding myself together as if I was going to burst from this uncontained excitement.

Hinata was silent for a few moments, before sighing and letting go of my face. "How boring…" He muttered.

"Ah, I-I'm sorry to have been such a dis-"

"I was right not to have expected anything better from you." His voice was rough, forcing every single muscle in my body to tense up out of primal fear. I felt like a deer in the headlights, a rabbit stood before a starving wolf.

"You're so predictable, Komaeda Nagito. Utilising a talent as boring as luck to bring about despair?"

I opened my mouth to apologise for my shortcomings, only to have fingers grab at my jaw and dig into my cheeks in a way that prevented my teeth from meeting. A strangled noise akin to a whimper forced itself from my throat. My knees were weak yet my body felt light. It was as if I was merely putty in Hinata's hands, completely submitted to his control.

"If you want to spread the despair disease so badly, why don't you take it?" Hinata's practically spat the words, the emotion in his voice betraying that empty expression he held.

He leaned even closer and I squeezed my eyes shut tightly. This is it, this is the part where he kills me. That thought caused an inappropriate sensation to stir in my gut, I couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, yet my laughs were cut short by a warmth pressing to my lips and devouring them straight from my mouth.

My mind went blank.

Is he…?

No…

No way...

Every muscle in my body went limp as something warm and wet forced itself into my mouth. I shivered with excitement and rubbed my tongue against the other.

The euphoria overwhelming me was dizzying. This is what I had wanted. I'm so disgusting, taking advantage of Hinata-kun like this. The bad luck awaiting me now would be immense, perhaps I really am going to die.

Despite my brain's protests, I melted into the kiss and wrapped my arms around Hinata's neck. As my chest leant into his, I could feel the burning fever radiating from his skin. Haha…I really am going to get sick if I keep this up…

The thought made me shiver and moan, sucking greedily at the other boy's tongue. His mouth had an awful taste of blood and stale water, but I just couldn't resist. Our lips made quiet wet noises as they rubbed against each other, drool now leaking from Hinata's mouth and down his chin.

It wasn't long before I was finding it hard to breathe with the heat radiating from Hinata. I wiggled my face free of his grip, separating the kiss and gasping for air. Hinata panted softly, staring at me with half-lidded, glazed over eyes. He looked calm, unfeeling, unexcited. It made my heart sink and I found myself mad for thinking it would be any different, as if he would have felt anything more.

"Ko-"

Hinata spoke with a hoarse voice before suddenly choking on the name. His eyes rolled back and he slipped from my grasp, collapsing to the floor below.

"H-Hinata-kun?!"

#Komahina #Hinakoma #Kamukoma #Hinata Hajime #Komaeda Nagito #Kamukura Izuru #Ficgiri

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

🏰👑🐲⚔️🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔🙀 DMODT 71 - start... kill me. I chose the death. It ends right here. They all die, or whatever

Breakfast with Willy was more humours than Levi thought possible. Dining in the dining room of the hotel, there was a clear divide between those of Eldia and Draecia, and those of Marley... with Willy being the exception to the rule. Ignoring social etiquette, copies of them slim newspaper of the country had already been printed for the day and now were causing quite the buzz. Eren's statement not front page news, but an abridged and printed copy was in there. From their side of the room, more than a few of the soldiers were ruddy faced as they sported looks of attempting to force a shit while constipated. For some unknown reason, the food tasted amazing that morning. The scrambled eggs were so very yellow... Eren might not have been happy that everyone was so upset over it all, but the truth was out there thanks to Freya. The words in his statement the same as the ones his love intended to say in front of the courts. All in all, it was shaping up to be an excellent morning. Escorted from the hotel to the courthouse, Levi was still quietly laughing to himself over the Marley soldiers at dinner. Eren catching him smirking in the direction of their party, earning him a firm stomping on his foot for it. Entering the courthouse, it wasn't that different from Eldia's. Grey bland walls offered no form of comfort, neither did the dark wooden doors. The whole place designed to throw all those who entered off balance "There's magic here" Whispering to him, Eren seemed to shrink into Levi's side "Magic?" "Mmm. I can feel it.... but I don't know. It feels weird" "Bad weird?" "Off putting" "That's usually how these places are supposed to feel. Even if you're innocent, they make you so uncomfortable that you want to confess to anything and everything in order to get out" "I feel like a place insisting on natural justice and such, should want the truth. Not lies and innocent people suffering" Kissing Eren's hair, Levi smiled against the locks "I know, sweet boy. That's because you're a good person" They'd only made it into the foyer. Historia, Freya, Ymir and Steege were conferring with a stocky well armed and armoured man "What are they saying?" "We have to leave all weapons here. If we don't, we'll be held in the cells until the trial is over" "Do you think we can get an exception? Obsydin's sword isn't safe" "Not by the sounds of it. Marley is having their weapons seized too. Once we've been cleared, we'll be taken downstairs under the court... and once we've spoken we can sit in on the rest of the trial" "What about the one Zeke left for you? Vermil's?" "I don't know. It's proof that his mate died, but it's easy for them to claim that they acquired the sword from elsewhere... Historia, can you ask?" A few moments passed before Eren shook his head "No. Even Obsydin's sword needs to be left here. They'll be locked away until we leave for the day. He also said that if we bring them back tomorrow, we'll be placed in the cells. Today we get our once and only warning because we're not from here" "We can't leave his sword laying around for any fool to find" Just because he'd bonded with the dragon, didn't mean it was necessarily safe for others to be handling Obsydin's sword. Visions of Erwin losing his arm came to mind. Erwin had been fucking lucky Eren had acted so fast... Though more than once Levi had wished he hadn't for the sake of his relationship with his love "I know... we'll have to ask Mikasa's squad to watch over them. I don't like it, but as you said, we can't leave that sword laying around. No offence to Obsydin" The dragon simply huffed in the back of his mind "These humans are stupid. You should take Eren, your children, and leave. None of the others matter" "Don't you think I would if I could?" Eren drew his brow for a moment before getting it "What did Obsydin say?" "That humans are stupid" "He has a point, but not all of them are. Does he have anything else to contribute to the conversation?" Obsydin perked up, Levi could almost feel the dragon rising to his feet and stretching... as if he had an actual body to do so "Tell him he looks good" "I'm not saying that" "What did he say?" "Tell him he looks good. You can see how nervous he looks" Oh... Obsydin was trying to tell him how to reassure Eren before everything went back down hill again "He said you look good" Eren shook his head "Sorry, Obsydin. I really don't think that's the case. And if it is, it's the lack of lighting" "Tell him..." He definitely didn't need Obsydin telling him how wrong Eren was. His mate was perfect "Eren. That's not the case at all. You look beautiful in your robes. More regal than any of those Marley arses... and shit" Moving closer to them, Levi found himself a tad embarrassed when Hanji ended up right behind them "And you look handsome as hell. But those clothes would look better on the floor of our room" In his mind Obsydin roared with laughter, behind him Hanji snorted, but Levi... Levi let out a soft growl "Shut up Shitty Glasses. Eren, you're a little shit" Smiling every so slightly, Eren bumped him with his shoulder "I know. We need to head over now, they're waiting on us" He wasn't even going to give him time to come up with some form of revenge. Well, the last laugh was going to be on Eren... once he figured out a suitable punishment for his lover. At least for now he could take comfort in the fact his teasing had managed to ease some of Eren's nerves. Being without a weapon didn't sit right Levi, nor did it sit right that they'd moved the trial to an adjacent room due to crowd size. The new room meant that rather being called in to give evidence one at a time, everyone was present for each other's statement as they stood in the U-shaped gallery. Seated at a long table running the length of the back room, 8 strangers presided over the court. All seemingly from different countries. In the middle of the room, Dina sat hunched over. Her hair tangled and matted, and a large bruise covered her left eye. When Eren's steps faltered, Levi pushed him forward until they joined Mikasa and Armin in the stands "Dina..." "Eren, don't go feeling sorry for her" "But..." "It's a common tactic. She more than likely paid a guard off to hit her, plus her disheveled appearance, its all a ploy for sympathy" Eren frowned at him, but his gaze was on Dina "Do you really think so?" "From what I've heard, and how she treated you, I think Dina wouldn't stop at anything to have her own way" "But..." "No, Eren. She did the wrong thing. She nearly ruined her whole country with her selfishness. Now she needs to deal with the fall out" "It's just... she still is Zeke's mother... part me..." Eren worried his bottom lip. As far as Levi was concerned, Dina wasn't worth the horseshit on the cobblestones outside "Part of you doesn't want her to be harmed because of Zeke. Look at what she did to him. She treated her son like a faithful dog, then kicked him aside the moment he decided he finally found something he wanted for himself" "It's just..." "Eren, she tried to have you taken. She tried to have you killed. Luca was hurt when you were attacked and you could have lost the baby. You don't owe her a goddamn thing!" Letting his anger get the better of him, he realised he'd fucked up when Eren whimpered away from him. Armin quick to pull him against him "Eren, it's ok. Dina isn't going to get off. She's not going to get away with what she's done. Levi is just being a cranky dick because he doesn't have his swords to make him look cool" No one got to insult him like Eren did, but making a scene wouldn't go over well. Nor could he punish Armin the same ways he would use on Eren. Perhaps he'd wait until they arrived back in Eldia and request Nicollo send more cake up to the young beta "At least I can swing a sword, not run from it like you do" "I can't help it. We need words not weapons" "Sorry to interrupt, but I think they want to start" Interrupting them politely, Historia was right. On the Marley side, there were still whispers, but the tribunal was looking their way, not Marley's. As the charges against Dina were read out, the woman protested each and every charge. When that got her nowhere, the woman changed tactic, starting to sob theatrically loudly, clearly faking in hopes of sympathy. With her face hidden in her hands, he performance faltered from time to time, growing louder each the woman reading the charges paused between them. Showing no sympathy, the same woman didn't skip a beat as she told Dina to "stop her pathetic snivelling as she was doing herself absolutely no favours by attempting to deafen them with her screeching". Levi was forced to bite his lip and stifle a snort. Dina's head shot up, her whole stance changing as she growled towards the woman who'd scolded her. More charges against her were read than Levi had expected there to be. He'd thought war crimes, obviously, and the imprisonment and torture of the battle dragons, but he hadn't thought the court would include the attack on Eren that occurred while his mate was living with Zeke, given there was no firm evidence, and Eren's kidnapping hadn't been included in the list of charges. He also hadn't thought they include the fact she'd racked up debts with countries all over the world and failed to make good on promised resources. Dina didn't help herself by denying everything, the mad woman claiming "she'd done what she needed to do in order to protect her country, and if anyone should be on trial, it should be Eren for murdering her son". She'd actually attempted to claim she'd loved Eren, despite what he was, and how she was hurt that he'd turned against them by murdering Zeke when all Zeke had done was show him love. Eren was shaking beside him. His scent was equal parts anger and sorrow. As his mother in law, Dina was in the position to provide him with a loving family. Eren having lost his mother far too young. If the woman had given the omega a chance, she could have seen how amazing he was. Or perhaps, that was why she felt threatened. Because Eren was better than her. The omega would never have thrown a tantrum in court like she was. In fact, he'd probably yell the truth in all their shitty faces until they needed to physically stop him. He was rather spirited like that. When the list of charges ended, Dina was given an actual chance to protest her charges, and to explain her actions in details. Again, she protested that everything she did was for Marley, and that Eldia had forced her into the current position, attempting to deflect the blame onto absolutely everyone from the royal advisors to the poor beggars in the streets for allowing themselves to fall on hard times. Eren's scent only continued to grow angrier with each of Dina's words. In his hold, Viren grew upset. Apologising, Freya ushered them both out the courtroom. Eren hadn't wanted to leave, but Luca also needed a break from his mother's anger. Their son was happy to go to Freya for a cuddle while Eren trembled "Eren, you need to calm down" Glaring at Freya, Freya simply raised an eyebrow as she placed her hand on Eren's arm "Don't..." "You need to calm down. Dina is playing with your head. You've burned your fingers, or haven't you noticed?" Levi hadn't noticed either. Raising his left hand, Eren sighed at it "When I want my magic, it refuses to come, but the moment I don't, this shit happens" "Your letting your emotions get the better of you" "How could I not? You heard the things she's saying. She makes it sound like I seduced Zeke in between my legs and forced him to marry me to protect his own honour. Zeke fucked plenty of people who weren't me. It wasn't exactly a secret he was a man whore" "And you'll have you chance to explain, but only if you keep your temper in check" Taking a deep breath, Eren then let it out slowly "You're right. Sorry, Freya. She's just acting so unlike herself, it's thrown me completely. In the manor her word was law, she commanded and ruled her people with an iron fist. Everyone was so far beneath her, that they weren't fit to look her in the eye. Now she's crying and doing all of this... I can't figure it out. Why can't she just admit what she did? Why does she have to keep... it's frustrating" "Because she's a bitch. Can you really say you didn't expect her to everything and anything she could to claw onto her crown? It's the only thing she has. Without it, she's just another power-hungry-shit-for-brains-alpha" Freya giggled at Levi's words, while Eren didn't even crack a smile "Levi's right, Eren. Not everyone has the courage to tell the truth. Once you lie once, you are forced to keep lying to protect that first lie. Dina has been lying so long, she doesn't even know who she is anymore. If you don't want to be here, I'm sure we can arrange something" "I'm not letting her stand up there and lie. It's not fair... but the boys..." "I'll watch them, or Levi can if you'd prefer" Eren reached out to rub Luca between his horn nobs "I don't trust her not to have something planned... but we can't have Viren crying through the trial" "I'll watch them. If you both want to stay out here until Eren is called, then I'll watch them while you're in the there" Freya knew full well that Levi didn't wish to be parted from Eren's side, even if he'd upset his mate earlier "I think that may be best. Thank you, Freya" Left outside the courtroom for half an hour or so, Freya relieved them of their sons once it was Eren's turn to speak. In the time they'd been absent, the mood of the room had shifted. Dina stood confidently, smiling even. Armin and Mikasa both looked worried, leaving Levi to wonder what the hell could have shifted people's perception of the Evil Queen.

[contrivedcoincidences6]

Love in the Windy City (Illinois)

I have a 50 states fic! @viceversawrites and @softnow Thank you :)

I went to Melissa’s funeral. I stood in the back and watched her family mourn. Scully seemed apart from them. Her brother’s stood on either side of her mother neither of them glancing at her. When it was over her mother looked at her for a long moment before kissing her cheek and walking away. I hid from her family, too afraid of my complicity in Melissa’s death to face them. Scully was the last one at the grave but I stood behind her. I wasn’t sure if she knew I was there until about a half hour after the last person left she called me over.

When I was by her side she cried for the first time that day. Turned her face to my chest and sobbed. We didn’t say anything but as I looked at the rose-covered casket I felt tears of my own running down my cheeks.

We both went back to work the next Monday.

She claimed to be ready but I was not convinced. The vacant look in her eyes told me that her family was not quite ready to speak to her yet but I didn’t want to push the issue.

Instead, I looked through the files for a good easy case somewhere nice.

It was something I’d done before after I recovered from the Boggs case. I’d taken her to North Carolina for a ‘mermaid’ case. There was no case. We relaxed on the beach for the day but later that night things went in a different direction. We drank and watched corny movies. Drunk and sad Scully talked about her father and the ocean and I couldn’t stop myself from kissing her. We slept together that night and the next day and agreed it would be the last time.

I tried to ignore the voice at the back of my mind whispering that maybe this is just my excuse to have some quality time with Scully.

The files sit in messy heaps around the office most of the time, waiting for me to decide it’s time. Some of them are more farfetched than others, obviously, and I have a special stack for those.

Top of the messy pile sat a haunting at the Chicago Fire Department. Chicago in April isn’t the best time but I remembered a trip from childhood when I went to the top of the Sears tower. Sam and I had looked over the city in wonder. Something else amazing had happened on that trip. When we’d gone to find our parents we saw them looking out over the city wrapped in each other’s arms. It was one of a small handful of times they actually seemed to care for each other.

Those images burn in my head as I look over the file.

I know that it’s probably bullshit. Scully will tell me it’s bull shit. But maybe we both need a bullshit case to get back into the swing of it.

Within an hour I’ve booked a flight and a hotel. Alarmingly, Scully puts up almost no fight.

After a bland look and a weak, “How is this an FBI matter?” she just shrugged and went back to her report.

We need this trip.

There are two ways to fly into Chicago and I’ve done both. One is a straight shot to the airport, you don’t really see much of the city but it’s quicker. The other way is my favorite. The plane does a loop around the skyscrapers and tapers over Lake Michigan before circling back to O’Hare.

I thank the Universe that the pilot is forced to take the longer route. For the first time in days, Scully shows interest in something as she looks out her window at the city lights. I watch the scene next to her and fight the urge to hold her hand.

“Beautiful.” I hear her whisper against the window and I silently agree.

Tomorrow we will pay a hopefully short visit to the Chicago F.D. to interview some of the firefighters there about a co-worker who went missing a few months back.

The Chicago P.D. believed the man had disappeared himself to avoid creditors (and I was inclined to agree when looking over the case) but after this shitty year, the government owed us one.

The hotel is a small city hotel in an old building. We admire the architecture in the dark as the city moves around us and I enjoy the look on Scully’s face as she takes it in.

The inside is not as nice but it’s not the worst one we’ve ever stayed in.

“Do you want to take a look at the file?” I ask Scully before we go to our separate rooms. She shakes her head and rubs her forehead.

“’Night Mulder.” And she’s gone.

On our way to the supposedly haunted building I fill Scully in on the history of the Chicago Fire Department Dist. 1 Headquarters.

In its original incarnation, it was a prison (always a spot for supernatural occurrences) during it’s relatively short time as a prison nearly 100 prisoners were hanged, including one who had to be hanged twice because of a broken rope.

“And get this Scully, at the turn of the century the mayor of Chicago was assassinated and the assassin was incarcerated and hanged at that prison! Apparently, a bunch of firefighters don’t like staying overnight at the precinct because they believe it’s haunted by the hanged prisoners.” I wiggle my fingers at her and give my best impression of a ghostly howl.

“Mulder, what does this have to do with our missing man?” Scully says wearily.

“A few occurrences of violence on the part of the poltergeists has been recorded and he apparently disappeared in the middle of a night shift that wasn’t seeing any action.”

Scully sighs and shakes her head but says nothing more.

The interviews are as useless as I’d suspected they’d be.

“Well, that was a waste of time.” Scully states as I flag down a taxi, “When is our flight back?”

“Tomorrow evening.” I tell her and studiously avoid her gaze.

“Mulder, what’s going on?”

“I figured since we are in the windy city we might as well take a trip up the Sears tower, maybe eat at one of my favorite joints.”

When I finally look at her she meets me with a suspicious look but doesn’t comment further.

“Sears tower please.” I tell the driver when we finally nab a cab.

Scully sighs and sinks into her seat.

“You did this on purpose.”

I don’t protest.

“I told you I was fine to get back to work. This is a waste of taxpayer money.”

“No, Congress is a waste of taxpayer money, this is a waste of government resources. The difference is slight but important.”

She huffs a laugh and looks at me. I’m slightly surprised to see no irritation in her eyes.

“I suppose they do owe us, huh?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

I smile and cover her hand with my own.

The Sears tower lobby is unsurprisingly mostly vacant considering it is a weekday in April and we are on an elevator to the top in no time.

Scully is drawn to the window like a moth to flame the moment we exit the elevator.

The city is partly covered in clouds and the sky is grey but in a way that just adds to the beauty.

She sucks in her breath when she looks out over the lake and points out interesting sights to me as we walk along the Skydeck.

“Have you been here before?” She asks after we’ve made our way halfway around.

“My family came out here when I was ten to visit some family and our parents took us up here. Sam and I chased each other around and played eye spy while my parents admired the view. It was fun, one of my few good childhood memories.” I say as we eye the Hancock building.

“That sounds nice.” She says and I meet her sad, sweet gaze.

“It was.”

Scully takes my hand as we walk around.

“My brother’s won’t speak to me.” She says after a few minutes of silence.

“I’m so sorry Scully.”

She shakes her head, “Even my mother can barely look me in the eyes. Really, I don’t blame them. It was supposed to be me and when she took the bullet for me I didn’t even have the decency to be there for her.”

“Scully it’s not your-“

“But it is Mulder. If I had just trusted her… If I had been more careful… there are a million things I could have done. If it had just been me that had walked through that fucking door.”

“And you think that would make this easier for your mother? She’d still be down a daughter, your brothers would still have lost a sister!”

“But at least Missy would have been blameless in my death! I signed up for this, I accepted the risks, she didn’t have a choice!”

“It would not have been less devastating for your family.”

“I’m not saying that.” She closes her eyes and I know she’s struggling to hold back tears, “I just… The past few days I’ve been wishing that it had been me.”

It’s then that I pull her close. The thought of Scully shot in the head and bleeding out on her floor haunts me. I remember how hopeless I’d been when she was abducted and I shudder to think what her death would be like.

“Don’t say that.” I kiss the top of her head, “I need you, Scully. I need you with me. What would I do without you?”

“You’d continue with your work…”

I shake my head, “You have no idea.” I whisper and lean down to kiss her cheek.

Suddenly I’m aware of how soft and pink her lips are. I remember those lips and the things they can do and I am hot all over.

Her eyes are huge and wet, her cheeks and nose pink and I’m taken back to the first time I’d kissed her. Then she tasted like whiskey and pizza. What would she taste like this time?

I think of how she’s saved my life, kept me from being a murderer and drove cross-country to make sure I would be safe. Her telling my mother that she didn’t think I was dead. Her coming with me no matter how crazy and dangerous.

So perfect, loyal, kind, smart… And I can’t help it.

I take her face in my hands and I can tell that she knows what is about to happen.

She doesn’t pull back or protest when I kiss her. Instead, she sighs softly and opens her lips.

And I want her so badly.

She tastes like Altoids and diet coke. Her lips are just as soft and her tongue just as talented. We carry on for quite a while but it doesn’t feel long enough.

When we finally pull away her face is even rosier and her hair is askew.

I caress her cheeks with my thumbs, just looking at her.

“Let’s go back to the hotel.” She says softly.

I nod and follow her out.

On the way back to the hotel we pretend nothing is happening but we never let go of each other’s hands.

We admire the city in silence in the cab and look at our feet in the elevator. On our floor, Scully pulls me toward her room and my heart picks up a notch.

When the door is open she looks up at me, hesitant, so I take her face in my hands and kiss her once more.

It’s all either of us needs and a moment later we are crashing through the door refusing to break the kiss.

Clothing is shed fast until she’s standing before me in her bra and panties and I’m kissing a trail down her stomach.

My hands rest on her ass and pull her closer to my face. We’re not drunk this time.

The last time we were like this is fuzzy. It’s snapshots of lips and limbs.

But I’ll remember this; I’m memorizing it so I can recall it on lonely nights after she comes to her senses.

I spend quite a bit of time between her legs. In North Carolina, everything was fast and messy and she didn’t even give me a moment to make my way down.

So this time I enjoy myself.

And she lets me do it as she runs her fingers through her hair.

My hope as I suction my lips against her is that I can make her forget the pain for a little while.

She cums gently and the sweet sounds she makes nearly break my heart into pieces.

When I’ve removed her bra and made my way back up her body I take a moment to kiss her neck while she slides her hand into my boxers. Her fingers wrap around me and move rhythmically with our kisses.

As we move closer to the bed she bends down for a moment and searches her bag before coming up with a small-foiled square.

“Agent Scully that isn’t very professional.” I scoff as she opens it up.

Her eyes dance in a way I haven’t seen since before she shot me and she rolls the condom on.

“Tell me with a straight face that you didn’t think this would happen.”

And I can’t so I kiss her instead.

We fall onto the bed together.

In North Carolina, she’d kneeled on the bed and had given me the most wicked smile. It was more fucking than anything tender and sweet.

This time I am looking into her eyes as I slide into her and she smiles up at me.

“You’re the only person Scully…” I mutter into her neck as I begin to move.

Her heels dig into the muscles right above my ass and her hips move in time with mine.

“The only person who what?” She asks and strokes my cheek.

“The only person who I have, who I can count on, who matters…” I count off before groaning into her neck.

“Oh, Mulder…” She whispers into my hair and kisses the top of my head.

Something shifts and we pick up the pace. Her breath picks up and I feel her hand move between our bodies.

That’s it for me. I cum quickly and muffle the sound of my cries in her neck and chest.

“Oh God, sorry Scully…” I mumble but she just keeps moving her fingers. I don’t pull out of her and instead just watch her concentrated face as she gets herself off.

If I hadn’t just cum ten seconds before I’d be doing it again.

“Oh!” She whimpers and her hips buck against mine. I feel her muscles tightening around me.

When she opens her eyes again an easygoing smile graces her face and I can’t help but kiss her. After we clean up we order pizza and relax.

When both of us grow tired instead of kicking me out she snuggles close to me and drifts off.

As I take one last look at her peaceful face before closing my eyes. My last thoughts are of how neither of us said that would be the last time, and I smile.

Notes: Thank you for reading this story that takes place in the best city in the world. The firehouse thing is a real urban myth that I read about in a haunted Chicago book that I had as a teenager. The two flight paths into the city is real and the loop around is my favorite view of the city. The hotel is based on one my mom and I stayed in for my 13th bday. Pretty but cheap.  Also if this had not taken place in the 90s I still would have called it the Sears Tower. Willis can go fuck itself. 

#tfx #the x files #a map of us #x files fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #x files #chicago #illinois #fanfic for the win

[virovac]

I found an interesting roasting of the humans in Godzilla : KOTM

Monarch is a shitty fucking organization. Despite being funded by the Governments of the world, when they're under a Senate Inquiry by the guys that help make sure they can keep their lights on, they proceed to be the most condescending and inscrutable assholes to everyone in the room. The only person in Monarch who cared about selling their Organization's importance was their Director of Technologies. Monarch refuses to answer point blank how many Titans they've discovered (17) and start talking about how shit humans are now that the Titans are here. Serizawa comes off like a cultist who's found his god as he talks about how humans would be Godzilla's pets. When the call comes in that Monarch has been attacked, they don't bother to enlighten any of the military big shots or Senators they're ditching when warned how this is goign to impact badly on their hearing. Instead they just leave without a word except for again, their Direct of Technology who tries to give a token assurance while he gets in the loop. Monarch's infinite amount of Ospreys, fighter jets, floating fortress, containment sites, etc... don't come for free. The govnerments pay for that shit. They want to know what bang they're getting for their buck. Not being told nothing. The US Military meanwhile, despite having way less resources than Monarch, things like access to specimens, a broad database of knowledge, etc... has managed to create the Oxygen Destroyer, a weapon that fucks Godzilla's shit up in one blow and leaves him to retreat ignobly to regnerate in a process estimated to take years. Out of universe, the fans know that Destroyah is a possibility from this thing, but in universe the US Military has created an effective Titan killing weapon in five years while in the six decades of Monarch's existence, they watch 17 existences hibernate with a series of containment failures under their watch. The Destroyer failed against Ghidora due to his origins sure, but again, it's an effective weapon. Emma is a selfish fucking bitch who's been poisoning her daughter's head with lies and fantasies about how she's going to make the world a better place as she maneuvers terrorist groups into killing her companions. The terrorists prove to be incredibly capable at gunplay because somehow one platoon of guys in a single Osprey can overwhelm 2 bases of Monarch's finest. We see the Antarctica base is fully on alert, and that the people coming to meet Emma's group is armed with rifles. Yet these guys kill off an entire research base and then proceed to drill holes in ice, plant explosives, etc... while Monarch struggles to find its ass with both hands and a flashlight. Yet these same terrorists prove to be utterly incapable of doing anything besides shooting people. When they're in the bunker, they leave their highly prized McGuffin out in the middle of the fucking operations room with no one to stand guard while everyone goes eat lunch or some shit. Then they let Madison just escape the bunker. Apparently they don't keep guards at all entrances despite being aware that Monarch is looking for them and they'll need early wanings in case they need to ditch early. Emma, again, is also completely is delusional. The movie thankfully has everyone admit that, but man, everytime she was on screen I just wanted her to die for setting off the whole set of events. Her husband Mark is a goddamn Mary Sue. Despite being retired from Monarch (so it seemed anyway), he knows better than everyone else in the world about everything. The ORCA? His wife did some work but by God he knows everything about it. Godzilla's on an approach vector? Man, Monarch SOP is garbage. He knows you should open all armor and power down all guns so you prove to be not a threat. The terrorists should be attacking Mothra's egg since they're exotic matter traffickers? Nah son, of course they aren't and you're an idiot if you believe that. This man is so good at everything it's clear that he should be the leader while Serizawa fumbles. Serizawa here is not some cultured man working for the betterment of mankind. He's a goddamn lunatic who shouldn't be given authority over anything besides his own calendar. GODZILLA GOOD HUMANS BAD. GODZILLA GOOD GHIDORA BAD. BALANCE. NATURE. All he does is go 'man, Godzilla is awesome. Did you know Godzilla is awesome?' He's so dedicated to secrecy in the modern age after a Titan attack wrecked a city and killed thousands, he's downright contemptous of government authority. Instead of going 'Godzilla's magic radiation healed the world!' he's just spouting vague platitudes the whole time off a fucking fortune cookie. Literally too. It wasn't sad that Serizawa sacrificed himself to power up Godzilla. It was fucking pathetic. He was a fucking fanboy sneaking into his idol's hotel room to drop off a few lines of coke to wake him up. Lastly the radiation. The magic radiation. I know it's just a movie but man, radiation in this world is nothing like the one we know about. Maybe I'm being especially harsh becoming I'm coming off the back of the excellent mini-series Chernobyl but the way they treat radiation and compare it to here? Night and day. Everyone in Monarch being exposed to Godzilla's radioactive breath and him moving around should be getting leukemia in a few days but no, in Godzilla land, it's fairy dust that can regenerate forests in a year what normally takes decades. You can admit the radiation is good guys, I don't mind that. But you could at least say that's a future benefit whereas in the here and now, Monarch is going to be dealing with a huge amount of Acute Radiation Syndrome. Godzilla is fucking melting steel by how hot he is at the end of the movie. Boston is a fucking crater. All the magic rainforests in the world don't really make up for the fact that all the Titans have been causing megadeaths while Monarch is running around trying to fix things 

by CuriousStranger

#godzilla kotm spoilers #godzilla kotm review

[joonsgalaxy]

this night is for you and for me

pairing: seungcheol x reader

genre: romance/fluff, light smut

words: 1270

prompt: "we only have one room left for the night..."

a/n: oopsie this probably sucks, but i wanted to post at least something this week

You had it all planned out. Three days, three different cities, three hotels (six separate rooms for reasons obvious for the both of you), a bunch of interviews with the locals and some landscape filming, hours upon hours would be spent in the rented car that you had paid for right before leaving; Seungcheol had booked the rooms. Undoubtedly, it would take immense efforts and various resources  to finish this project, but neither of you ever did things half-assed, so if lots of travelling in the mornings and filming the documentary during the days in this kind of freezing cold weather was required to get an A+, then that's exactly what you'd both do.

However, there's this one saying (which is rather painfully truthful): you make plans and god laughs. And god was indeed giggling when, staring out the window as Seungcheol drove, you were already imagining a warm bed all to yourself. You didn’t know at that moment that your carefully crafted plans for the night would shatter, so you were basically able taste the sweetness that well deserved sleep would provide in the room of the first hotel you were supposed to stay in; after all, your muscles were unusually sore, for your limbs had been mercilessly tormented by the chilly air as you were taking the interviews for hours on end.

Humming absent-mindedly along a random song playing on the radio, you had no idea that you were soon to find out that the road—the only road leading to the booked hotel, you might add—was obstructed by a ton of merciless snow that had unfortunately rolled down the mountain, hindering any—usually coursing quite rapidly—traffic.

When people in charge of things happening smoothly on roads let you know about the situation, you thoroughly discussed your options with Seungcheol, and it didn't take long for you both to realize that the best one was to forget about the booked rooms and to look for another hotel around the parking lot, where you were now stuck in a progressively intensifying snow storm.

Fifteen minutes later you stood at the reception, shaking off the cold.

‘We only have one room left for the night...’

Great.

‘I could sleep on the floor,’ Seungcheol volunteered without much thinking.

‘Why?’ You challenged him, feigning indignation. ‘Because you're a boy and I'm a girl?’

His lips came to a thin line, a long breath pushing out threw his nose. He looked exasperated, but also amused. You knew him too well to interpret his expression as just irritation.

Then one of his shoulders rose into a carefree shrug. ‘Okay. I take the bed then.’

As the receptionist stood there waiting for you to make up your minds, you scoffed and, smiling cheekily, lightly patted his chest and then spoke in a sweet voice, ‘I will take the bed, because you're a gentleman.’

Seungcheol rolled his eyes, but failed miserably at hiding his grin.

‘Uh, if I may suggest,’ the lady spoke over the soft music in the background, drawing your eyes toward herself, ‘The bed is rather huge. You could both sleep on it?’

Leave your suggestions to yourself, Patricia.

If Seungcheol and you share a bed, with that kind of unresolved sexual tension that had been hanging between you two for weeks now, you might not even get any sleep.

However, nobody could deny you were incredibly lucky to even find a vacant room at a time like this, so, honestly, the only logical option was to simply book it.

So as you climbed up the stairs, fiddling with the key to the room, your mind was already crafting a plan of how to end the night in a way that wouldn't force anyone to leave the hotel the morning after carrying backpacks stuffed with regrets. You'd take a shower, lie on one side of the bed, attempting to take as little space as you possibly could, and then, in a span of ten minutes, you'd doze off and fall into a deep and much needed sleep.

Then again, life is unpredictable and you were about to see it for yourself.

‘I bet there are like a million different aliens out there.’

You had a shower, sure, and you were lying on the bed without being too close to Seungcheol allright (you weren't exactly falling off the edge, either), but your tired limbs and the thought of falling asleep weren't on your mind, because questions after questions spilled from the both of you, answers flowed freely, honest opinions were being shared with no holding back.

‘Obviously.’

You felt so relaxed, so safe around him. Even though you were aware of shitty things happening constantly in this world, you knew eventually everything would be okay. He just had this aura encompassing him; bright and warm and soothing. It only reminded you of why you liked him so much.

Voices, husky and affected by exhaustion, were filling the room as you both spoke to one another; but no matter how fatigued you sounded even to yourself, soft chuckles—yours and his—seemed to have the power of revitalizing your body, inducing every fibre in you to become more and more vigorous by the second. You started to think that perhaps you didn’t even need any sleep to feel brimming with boundless energy the next day.

At one point, though, when you both fell silent, when the ambience of the room evolved into a remarkably comfortable one, you casted your gaze toward Seungcheol and the air engulfing you seemed to shift. His eyes were noticeably more sentimental and warmer than ever, and his lips looked particularly inviting.

And so you took the risk of shifting on the bed, leaning close to him gently brushing your lips over his. It wasn’t hasty; you were rather slow with it, considerate. Not as much hesitant as simply respectful, adamant in not missing a single sign of reluctance on his features.

Actually, he didn’t even look surprised; clearly, he wanted this as much as you did. The way his lips quirked upward in a pleased smile right before he crushed his mouth on yours let you know just that.

The kisses were unhurried, almost lazy, yet strikingly pleasurable. There was no reason to rush anything. You wanted to fully enjoy the entirety of the moment by slowly and quietly getting to know every corner of his lips.

Kisses broke with wet, sensual sounds again and again, echoing off the walls, gradually contributing to the fire kindling within you. The flames only grew hotter, when Seungcheol’s careful hands started affectionately exploring your body, fingertips skimming over your skin with endearingly light yet lustfully electrifying touches.

Your head got dizzy, all the thoughts mingling with one another. No endings, no beginnings. Desire took over as Seungcheol touched you in all the right places, offering you the most delightful pleasure you’d ever felt.

The clock hanging on the wall was steadily ticking the night away; alarming sirens could be heard blaring in the faraway distance, but you could scarcely pay any attention toward it—Seungcheol’s caring, dexterous fingers were bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Completely certain that there would’nt be any regrets when the clock welcomes the morning, you spoke in a desperate whisper, ‘I want you. All of you.’

You loved how affected he seemed to be by your words, the sharp inhale being the sign of it; then you became even more eager upon seeing his eyes darken.

(( ‘So, do you always carry condoms around in your backpack or…?’

‘That’s what responsible college kids do.’ ))

requests :: svt masterlist

#kwriterskollection #s.coups #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fic #choi seungcheol #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol smut #seventeen college au #s.coups drabble #s.coups x reader #seungcheol x you

[provincianx-blog]

what i learned from unlearning everything that i know

lessons from middle school, aurora, and beyond. 

at the age of fifteen, my mom forced my brother and me to leave our home in hayward, ca upon discovering that my dad had been using meth again and wasting all of his money on catfishes on the internet. 

my mom and dad had been separated for longer than my brother and I were aware of, but my mom finally had the courage to really leave him in july of 2011. she loved him her entire life, but she was done taking care of someone that wasn’t taking care of her. she was done taking care of someone who didn’t love her enough to take care of himself. she was done. 

while this seems incredibly simple, leaving hayward prompted what would turn into a 7 year identity crisis. 

as an outcast at every school i transferred to, i found a community on this website with my best friends from middle school and random strangers who loved harry potter and other fandoms as ridiculously as we did. true commitment to friendship would transcend from anonymous messages on tumblr to mutual follows on twitter. and here we are: in the age of twitter.

upon switching up different meds, after over a decade of looking for mental and emotional stability, i found out that i have bipolar-1, which still doesn’t make that much sense to me, but i’m beginning to understand it more than i did before.

i’m grateful to have been obsessed with star wars when i first saw revenge of the sith on opening night because of my tita and her husband’s work perks. i loved padme and she was my first crush but also my first example of a strong girl in mainstream film in addition to mulan (bruh i used my mulan costume for like 3 years and never gave a single HECK). i would then beg my dad to take me to blockbuster to watch the original trilogy, where i met carrie fisher/princess leia, who would radically transform how i saw the world and myself.

i grew up with my tita and tito. they took care of me when they were in college, and they’re still taking care of me now. i want to be able to take care of their kids and love them as much as they loved me growing up. i love them with all that i am and all that i can give. 

i studied politics because i wanted to make sure that my younger cousins and my baby brother would have a better world to grow up in than i did. it seems that my undiagnosed mental illness of nearly 14 years has been exacerbated by the political climate we live in today in 2018. 

i learned so much about life by learning about my own history, and i hope that everyone has this opportunity in their lifetime. it feels great, and the only one who seems to really get it is ariana grande. 

so here are 14 things i learned from being mentally ill and emo while being passionate about wanting to make the world a better and more habitable place. 

1. don’t trust the feds: a lot of 2nd amendment boys actually don’t trust the government as much as people think, and the 2A comes from settlers’ distrust in colonial Britain. the problems we see today are because the GOP has lured these same people and their kids (and their kids) into their corner by advocating for organizations like the NRA; gun control has reached the Supreme Court, but the 2nd amendment took precedent (i believe). gun control must come from the state and local governments, but political participation in these arenas are very low, especially for younger voters. i, as someone who has been involuntarily hospitalized despite voluntarily seeking medical help, am not allowed to buy a gun in the state of california for 5 years. and honestly, i really don’t care because i don’t want to need a gun anyway, but the poor and the middle class in the south feels that they need guns. 

2. stay woke: deray said this nearly everyday after michael brown was shot by darren wilson in ferguson, missouri. michael brown was my wake up call to reassess my complacency in the status quo and my participation in reinforcing anti-blackness. in the bay area, the n word was used so casually in places like union city/hayward that we became so desensitized to it. it’s still used casually, but non-black people like myself have no agency in saying it because we’re not black. it’s as simple as that. i began noticing how my family reacted to what would turn into the Black Lives Matter movement, and for the first time, i felt that i could no longer trust my relatives if they were complicit in the murders of black youth simply because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. i couldn’t even talk to them without crying because of how upset i got from the anti-blackness i would hear. i began to isolate myself and found community on twitter. 

3. our youth is a reflection of how good things were and how good things can become if we learn to build community: in addition to the community i found on tumblr through avatar, harry potter, and the beatles, i found community with all the losers who had xbox’s instead of ps3′s. we would hang out and play search and destroy (which i still cannot succeed in after all this time smh agjhgarhdfhre) or 1v1 each other on rust. my nerd friends would let my brother and I play with them regardless of how much we sucked, and they hyped me up even when my KDR was trash. these friendships would then transcend from mw2, halo 3, and into runescape. my brother is now really good at overwatch, and the friends i made in middle school are also really good at overwatch. the difference now is that they’re making money off of it, and i’m just like, “let’s get this bread, nerds!” thank you for being there for me even though i sucked at everything i tried doing. i was reminded of this when i watched “mid90s” by Jonah Hill. our youth was such a pure period of time, but it was also the time we lost ourselves through imposing harmful social norms onto each other, such as the idea that a girl cannot be “just friends” with a boy. but - here’s the kicker - i’m queer, and i don’t really like cis-het men hahahahahahahahaha but whatever. 

4. becoming american made me forget who i am: our immigrant parents teach us that the only way is to assimilate into white America, which is essentially what happened to black and brown people following the civil rights movement. the notion of egalitarianism/equality has been nothing but harmful for all of us nonetheless, fueling debates on affirmative action and pitting black people against asian people. one of my best friends from elementary school is in prison for trying to make a living with the resources and skills made available to him. he was apprehended in thousand oaks. he is a black man, and we grew up in the same environment, but his life has been so different since we were in elementary school. the concept of equality/egalitarianism stemming from civil war gains (13th-15th amendments) has manifested into the racial inequality we see today; in other words, the idea that white americans and POC are equal has been harmful because this has never been true and continues to be untrue. my filipino friends and i would get bullied by white latinos for not speaking english in america, which is why i learned to hate myself and my culture. i love myself and my culture, and i am fighting so that i can return home to the philippines someday. 

5. our bodies are different, and that’s okay: can y’all believe that i got bullied for not having boobs in the 3rd grade? this is what happens when young girls are sexualized so early. boys participate in this, and they turn out to be shitty boyfriends later on. girls will be girls. girls just wanna be treated like human beings instead of sexual objects. i don’t think this needs to be explained further. 

6. america is a settler-colonial state turned global power, and that is problematic: this country began with the murders and deaths of indigenous people because of imperalistic pursuits. it was built on the backs of slave labor from africa. it was reinforced by colonialism through the conquering of countries such as the philippines. we’re socialized to believe that there’s no place like america and that america is such a good place to be in, but that is only true for white Americans and POC who have integrated into white American suburbs. 

7. know history, know self: - jose rizal 

8. if my life wasn’t funny, it would just be true, and that is unacceptable - carrie f. fisher

9. at times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you’re living with this illness and functioning, it’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of - carrie f. fisher

10. rebellions are built on hope - princess/general leia organa + jyn erso

11. we have nothing to lose but our chains - assata shakur

12. keep ya head up - tupac shakur

13. everything i’m not made me everything i am - kanye west

14. i remember you was conflicted

misusing your influence

sometimes i did the same

abusing my power full of resentment

resentment that turned into a deep depression

found myself screaming in the hotel room

i didn’t wanna self destruct

the evils of lucy was all around me

so i went running for answers

until i came home

but that didn’t stop survivor’s guilt

going back and forth trying to convince myself the stripes i earned

or maybe how a-1 my foundation was

but while my loved ones was fighting the continuous war back in the city

i was entering a new one

a war that was based on apartheid and discrimination

made me wanna go back to the city and tell the homies what i learned

the word was respect

just because you wore a different gang color than mine’s

doesn’t mean i can’t respect you as a black man

forgetting all the pain and hurt we caused each other in these streets

if i respect you, we unify and stop the enemy from killing us

but i don’t know, i’m no mortal man

- kendrick lamar

#star wars #fandoms #reflection #politics #writing