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fyodorsslut · 3 years

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hi uh- this is embarrassing I mean I’m a writer asking for someone else to write me something- anyways I found your blog and I was wondering if you could write angst? Any kinda would be good just make it hurt :) ❤️❤️❤️

A/n : JFHGH MY HEARTTTTT I hope you like it !!

Genre : angst

Pairings : Bakugo x fem!reader

Keys : y/n your name // y/h/c your hair color // y/e/c your eye color // y/s/c your skin color // y/b/s your brows shade (light, dark, etc.)

Warnings : Language, death, angst vv much angsty, very light mention of sex

He sighs aloud, pushing his wooden chair backwards as he pulls himself up off of it.

“Where are you going ?” Kaminari, the blonde to his left, looked up at him in confusion.

“Going to check on Bakubro,” the red haired declares. “You guys go walk or something if you wanted, I guess,” He spoke dryly, sharp teeth shining every time he flexes his jaw open.

Denki’s golden eyes shakily hold contact with Kirishima’s small red ones. Both exchanging the same worrisome thoughts, the blonde sighs in despair as he nods at his friend.

“You sure you don’t want to come?” Kirishima perks a brow. “You haven’t been eating properly since-”

“Do I look hungry to you, shitty hair?!” The ash blonde snaps aloud.

“No, sorry,” The red haired lies, understanding and all. Without a single word further, he leaves the dorm and shuts the door on his way out.

Sighing, Bakugo throws himself back on the bed. He rubs his eyes with rough callouses, stopping any emotion from stepping out of line. He shifts to his side, staring at the frame on his bedside table.

“Damn, if you were here you would’ve dragged me downstairs,” he spoke to the picture softly, wishing for nothing more than the impossibility of pulling the girl out of the framed picture and into his embrace. “If. I hate that word. But you know that already. Or, well, knew.”

-s i x w e e k s a g o-

“Oh my God,” The y/h/c girl gasps, gripping into Katsuki’s strong arm tighter than she already was. “We can even pain it pink! Imagine if we did- that’d be so funny.”

The idea brought the ash blonde delight, but his expression remained frozen as the snow he’s walking on. With he two arms wrapped around his right arm, he wonders of the possibility of his girlfriend’s fantasies becoming a reality.

“Tch, dumbass,” He replies. “Pink is lame.”

“You’re lame,” She rolls her eyes playfully at him. Her nose was blocked by the cold, being unfortunate enough to not be a self-heater as her lover is. She sounded different, but she tried to pay it no mind, but it’s hard to do so when walking beside her was non other than mr.Sexy Voice. She couldn’t help but feel insecure.

“Yeah yeah,” he smirks, intertwining his fingers with her’s and pulling them inside his coat’s pocket. A light pink tint was added to redden her cheek further more. It was him and the weather. But he’s always there.

“What if we, like, actually got married?” She farrowed her y/b/s brows, raising her right hand into the air and examining the promise ring her gave her on their third anniversary.

“There is no ‘if’ to it, idiot,” he declares, embarrassed by the state he was about to make even thought there was not reason to be ashamed of it whatsoever. “We are getting married, so shut up about it already.”

“Aw, Katsuki,” She smiles agape, printing a soft, cold kiss on his surprisingly warm cheek. “When did I say I had plans of marrying you?” She teases, eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t ask. If you don’t want to I’ll make you.”

“You’ll make me?” she scoffs. “I’d love to see you do that.”

“Careful what you wish for, teddybear,”it was a threat if there was ever one, making the girl’s y/e/c eyes stare at him with all bewilderment there is.

“Anyway,” she brushes it off quickly, looking ahead of them. “What if we got a daughter, would you know how to deal with her?”

“Stop ‘what if’ing,” he rolls his vermilion eyes. “It’s too early to tell, you moron.”

Before she could retort ans shut him up, the glass door of the store by their side practically blew up, spitting glass everywhere. While she was frozen from the utter shock, he caught a piece of glass right before it lands in her y/e/c eyes.

“The fuck was that?!” He growls aloud, but people start running out of the place like crazy, all terrified.

Y/n was pulled out the way by Katsuki, who frantically shook the girl ahead of him, trying to bring her back to reality.

“Listen, I’m gonna go see what son of a bitch is doing what there and you’ll go get some fucking help, okay?”

“Y-yeah, okay,” she nods, processing it all. Bakugo sighed deeply, considering keeping her here in the safe around him, not letting her out on her own, but he new he had to.

He pats her shoulder twice, she goes off running as his eyes trail her back.

“What do you mean she’s not here?!!” Bakugo shouts at endeavour like some maniac, trying his best to not jump on the old man and punch him.

“I don’t have time for your love affairs, boy. Your ‘girlfriend’ is not here. She was transported to the infirmary with the rest of injured.”

As the number one hero pushed past him, the ash blonde stared into the blank.

“I’m sorry,” the man sighs. “I really am.”

He could barely hear the door shut, staring at what could soon be the corpse of his girlfriend. All the other devices connected ti her body meant nothing to him. He’d give up everything he’d worked for his whole life right then if it meant she’ll stay.

“Don’t fucking go,” he took her hand. “See me? I’m right here, for you. I didn’t waste 4 years of my life for you to do this to me. I’ll let you ‘what if’ all you want. Just- don’t fucking leave.”

Much to his dismay, as his voice cracked a tear spilled down his cheek. He ran a calloused finger down her promise, him wearing a similar one with her name craved on its inside.

“Don’t fucking go.”

It’s a whimper, desperate gasp for air. He didn’t mind being like this now; being so vulnerable. He didn’t have the brain nor the brain capacity to do so.

“Please, don’t leave me.”

His thoughts raced. He wish he were good enough, he had more time. He wished he were able to put her up again. He’d always bush it to later. He never showed her him vulnerable because later. He never to her to the basement ti just talk because later. He never roamed the world with her because later. He never gave her the custom dress he wanted her to wear to prom because later.

The beep sound from he device above his head became high, long, annoying. But, yet, he knew it indicated something dangerous.

“B-babe?” He looked up at her, his face red but her’s pale.

The man in white, uniform indicating a doctor, stormed into the room.

“Wh-what’s wrong?!” The ash blonde asked, eyes agape as the doctor head towards the bed.

“I might have to ask you to leave, young man.”

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! WHAT’S HAPPENING?!”

“Sir-”

“ANSWER ME-” then, the ash blonde’s senses hit him; sudden and all. He stumbles back. “Sh-she’s making it, right?”

“I already told you-”

“NO YOU DIDN’T-!” he lied, scared. No, scratch that, terrified.

This is all a bad dream. He continued to murmur in his head.

Nurses came for backup, one with a quirk that numbed his limbs he couldn’t move. They pulled him out. The crying boy growled in pain, trying to stay. But they wouldn’t let him.

- B a c k t o t h e p r e s e n t -

“I let you down,” He hugged the photo to his chest tightly, tears uncontrollably streaming down his light skinned face. “I’m sorry.”

#BAKUGO KATSUKI #bakugo angst #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader angst #mha angst #mha oneshot #reuest #shelbs reqs

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itsuki-minamy · 3 years

Text

“K - THE FIRST STORY”

CHAPTER 8: THE MAN IN THE SKY (Complete)

* K - The First Story (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Sunlight reflected off the surface of the sea and shone. The winter morning breeze was cold, but today, the cold was pleasant for the boy.

Gakuenjima can be seen across the sea from the boy's line of sight. A monorail passed under the connecting bridge that connected the continental side where the boy and the island were located. It seems that the students going to school in Gakuenjima were on board.

Until yesterday, it was a place full of everyday life. But now it seems terribly far away. Every day until yesterday felt like a happy dream that disappeared as soon as he woke up.

Looking back, Kuro with Neko asleep, looks at the boy with a complicated face. Neko, who escaped from "Scepter 4" during the night and used her full potential, began to feel drowsy on the way, and Kuro, who couldn't see her, turned his back on her.

Neko, who put her cheeks on his shoulders and fell asleep with a small sigh, her face was unprotected.

On the other hand, Kuro looks at the boy with a worried expression. He may be worried about the boy that he lost everything he believed in overnight. He would never admit that he was worried.

(What does it look like?)

The boy gave Kuro a warm smile.

It's probably due to Kuro's innate goodness piggybacking Neko swinging back on himself and that he's worried about the boy who may have to be cut off. The boy no longer thinks of Kuro as a scary person. He doesn't believe that even that person named "Ichigen-sama" gave him a terrible order to kill the evil "King".

"Hmm...", Neko leaked a difficult voice behind her and widened her almond-shaped eyes.

"Ah!"

When the surrounding landscape was reflected in hers eyes, Neko's facial expression filled with joy, she jumped off Kuro's back and she ran off. It seems Neko has no problem not saying a single thank you, and she just rolled her shoulders.

"It's our house!"

Neko ran to the beach and spread her arms as if she was trying to hug the school island.

"I am back!"

Neko sat on the grass near the pier and looked at the school island with a feeling of security. The boy smiled and knelt next to Neko.

"I am back..."

It was the boy who wanted to come here. However, the boy was not as obedient as Neko.

"What is this to me?"

He just whispered to him. Kuro made a calm voice as he looked at Gakuenjima.

"I must say I came again because it was all fake. Was it okay to come here with the Blue Clan chasing us?"

The boy is aware that this is risky behavior. Still, he came here again to take a look at the Gakuenjima scenery.

He's not going back there now. The boy who has already been freed from Neko's power, is no longer Isana Yashiro. He must know himself since he is not that person. No matter what kind of person he is, he has to regain his true self and make it up to him if he is guilty of it.

"It's okay!"

Neko made a loud voice to interrupt the boy's thoughts.

"Because this is our house!"

Neko's words rang out without hesitation, and the boy blinked and inadvertently put the word "house" in his mouth.

Home. A place to return.

The word created a slight temperature in the boy's empty chest. He slowly spread throughout his body and permeated him. The temperature was soaking in the back of his eyes and he realized that he was about to cry.

The boy raised his hand and gently stroked Neko's head.

"Yes. Before that, there was nothing. And although it was all fake, the last few days I spent with everyone were real. That's why it's okay to say that I have returned home."

Kukuri called him Shiro-kun. She used to tell him: Welcome Shiro-kun. Come early!

Shiro! Mishina was casually slapping his shoulder. Shiro! Do not deviate. I am waiting for fries. Let's eat together when we get back!

Now that he is not under Neko's power, they will no longer remember the boy. Even so, it certainly was Yashiro Isana at the time when they called him that. Certainly that was the place he called his home.

"Now I understand. I came back here to etch this place on my heart."

The boy closed his eyes.

He had nothing for sure now. The beloved everyday life he believed in was false, and all that remains in the boy is the mysterious memory of being shot down by a long silver-haired man from the top of an airship.

"I can't remember anything more than that, that's why I'm scared."

The boy looked back at Gakuenjima. His heart was already calm. The confusion and sadness have passed, and the boy's heart is determined.

"Let's get rid of everything. To start the real days here again."

"Shiro!" Neko jumped up and brought the boy warm body temperature.

"Shiro.", He looks at the boy with a strong gaze that Kuro hasn't given up on.

Now Kuro and Neko are close to the boy, whose existence has turned into Shiro, and they call him Shiro.

He is still Yashiro Isana.

++++++++++

In the office tea room, Munakata was making tea while he listened to Awashima's report. He made a slight noise and produced fine tea bubbles.

"As mentioned above, due to the rainy weather, each unit could not track. Until now, there is no relevant person in the transport monitoring network."

"I see. Not only did he escape my eyes, but he also evaded Fushimi-kun, who took command of the chase, and it seems like it was no accident that he was able to hide until now."

Awashima bowed slightly, put her tablet aside, and began to brew tea.

"Currently, we are reducing the siege on Ashinaka High School while following the expected escape route..."

Awashima puts anko from a tin on top of delicate Japanese sweets that seem to go well with tea, which is a beautiful flower-shaped Japanese sweet that is placed on a plate.

Munakata gently averted his eyes from the brutal sight.

"It will be difficult to capture. Apparently he is elusive. Besides, those two... what a disgusting opponent."

Awashima seriously listened to Munakata's words and placed a mountain of thick stalks on top of Japanese sweets using about three cans of red bean paste in front of Munakata. Munakata raised his glasses silently.

"I am Fushimi."

He banged on the office door and a voice was heard from outside. Fushimi rushed into the office when they replied "Please come in." Awashima looked back at Fushimi and asked energetically.

"What happen?"

"It has been reported that a member of the follow-up investigation has just been attacked and transported."

"What is the exact time of the attack and what unit was he in?"

"Chikushi, third division officer in the Eastern District, about 15 minutes ago."

"What is the degree of damage?"

"Only minor bruises, but his PDA was stolen."

Munakata, who was listening to the exchange between Awashima and Fushimi, raised his eyebrows slightly at the words.

"His PDA?"

"I am monitoring your assigned area."

Fushimi handled the tablet in his hand and projected the hologram on the screen into the air. He projected a map of the area around the stadium, which was the site of last night.

"Is the assailant known?"

“It's about the Black Dog. Chikushi said that he didn't see the other two."

Awashima frowned suspiciously. As Awashima thought about it, Munakata casually avoided the mountain of red bean paste placed in front of him.

"That night, Kuroh Yatogami continued to haunt that neighborhood."

Munakata watched.

"This was not an attack, he was just looking to make contact. Fushimi-kun, was there anything left at the scene that could be a message from them?"

"Just an object."

Fushimi also handled the tablet. Another photo appeared on the map showing the hologram screen. It was a note scrawled like "1400."

The time now is 13:45.

"I see."

Munakata exchanged glances with Awashima. Without waiting for Munakata's instructions, Awashima took her PDA and began preparing to start the reverse detection system.

Everyone in the office didn't need any more words.

Until 2:00 p.m. 15 minutes until the time indicated by "1400". There is almost nothing to do now but wait.

"Fushimi-kun, why don't you sit here and wait?"

Awashima relaxed her tone like a nimble boss and said with a voice close to private.

Fushimi showed a momentary movement, but found a terrifying mountain of red bean paste next to Munakata, and pulled his cheeks away.

"Here is ok."

"Well then, let's notify the reserve team at headquarters to prepare for the emergency dispatch."

Fushimi seemed relieved to be given a job instead of anko, and responded immediately.

The fifteen-minute wait felt as long as it was. Fushimi quickly contacted the reserve team, Munakata served Awashima the tea, and Awashima drank it beautifully. Munakata laid the monstrous bean paste aside without touching it, closing his eyes with his arms crossed as if he were next to a monster. The incoming call came in exactly at 2:00 p.m.

As the digital clock shows 14:00, Munakata's PDA rings an incoming call.

Munakata slowly took out the PDA. As expected, it was an incoming call from the PDA possessed by the attacked Tsukushi.

"I am Munakata Reisi. Who are you?"

"Isana Yashiro, or so they tell me."

He hears the same sweet voice from the boy who was at the stadium last night. Awashima operated her own PDA and began reverse detection.

"I suspected it could be you. You took a very aggressive method."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't think of another way to speak without getting caught."

"Hm. First, I'll hear what you have to say."

"It's a long story, and I will say briefly that the man in the airship is deeply involved in the murder. They treat me like a criminal, but I don't remember anything about it."

"Do you know what you're saying?"

"What?"

The reverse detection result came out. Munakata raises a hand towards Fushimi as he continues the conversation, and Fushimi bows his head slightly and immediately exits. Apparently, the suspect is moving down the Metropolitan Freeway while he calls. Awashima begins contacting him to order an inspection of the Metropolitan Highway.

What do you know about the man in the airship?"

"Just enough of a small talk."

"So you can understand that it's too important to be dragged into this, just because you claim to be innocent? I think you could at least show your goodwill by giving yourself up right now."

"When you watch a detective drama, you may realize that there is no point in shouting that you are innocent in prison. That is why I decided to turn myself in for the right price."

"I see, you are a difficult man to handle."

In fact, it was unexpected that he came out so bold. He met him at the stadium last night, and although he felt the rotation of his head and the force of the game, he seemed quite hungry overnight, even though he had a remarkably unreliable side.

"That's it. So, in that transaction, if they promise to bring the blimp guy ashore so I can ask him some questions, I'll turn myself in. How about that?"

"I'd like to agree since you're willing to go so far, but the suspect's allegations in the case aren't enough to interfere with him. Even if you end up turning yourself in, if you're at a disadvantage, are your two remaining friends supposed to come to rescue you?"

"Haha, you're right. After all, was it too good?"

"No, let's accept your terms."

"Huh?" I hear a voice of real surprise from the other side of the PDA.

"I am saying that I, Reisi Munakata, the Fourth and Blue King, will stop the man from the airship, also known as the First and Silver King, Adolf K. Weismann."

Awashima is also surprised. Munakata turned his palm toward her and held it.

"If you feel like it, come visit us. Let's arrange a meeting to clear up the case. However, in that case, all three people will show up."

There was no answer. The other side of the PDA was silent and the call was cut off.

Did the matter end or did you notice the signs from Fushimi and others running towards the fountain?

"I hope Fushimi and the rest of him can hold back."

"If he can do that, it will probably be difficult. Isana seems to be an intelligent person, and Kuroh Yatogami has both cognitive and manipulative tendencies."

Frankly speaking, Awashima sighed deeply. She looked at Munakata with a thoughtful look.

"Captain… you accept that person's request and will you seriously try to stop a king?"

"Not well?"

"It's unreasonable. It would be nice if the 'Silver King' accepted the talks in a relaxed way, but when it comes to hard-line measures, it could be a battle between kings. You know how dangerous it is!"

Awashima stared at Munakata and appealed by leaning forward.

The danger is justified. However, Munakata thought that this was an inescapable path.

"Awashima-kun. I would like to meet the 'Silver King', who is a 'King' but he is roaming the sky without knowing anything about earth."

Munakata has never seen how he is the "Silver King". The "Silver King" does not meet anyone. He climbed into his airship alone and continues to float in the sky. Only the "Golden King" Kokujoji Daikaku knows him.

"The "Silver King", who has invariable attributes, seems to still be young, but he is the oldest surviving "King". In years he is like the "Golden King", who is an old man. He who keeps flying in the sky for almost 70 years, he thinks that being a spectator is his role as "King". If he resigns his duty as "King" and fled to heaven, I think he is an irresponsible man, but it does not matter. The problem is that it can be a malicious person for this world."

Tension runs in Awashima's expression. Munakata dared to smile at her.

"The "Silver King" Adolf K. Weismann, was an ally of the "Golden King" Kokujoji Daikaku during World War II. In fact, even now, Daikaku Kokujoji offers great comfort to the "Silver King". The personality and the bases Daikaku Kokujoji's are true. If Daikaku Kokujoji believes in him, I think he's a decent person."

Munakata got to his feet, left the tea room, and stood in front of the office desk, his back to Awashima.

"Awashima-kun. Is it possible for a person to remain alone for decades in an isolated place without altering his mind? Do you think that the unchanging 'King' has an unchanging heart?"

"Captain..."

"If the first 'King' may have fallen into evil, we must confirm it as soon as possible, even if it is dangerous."

Awashima still had an uneasy look on her face.

It is a natural history. The more serious the battle between kings, the greater the danger that the Sword of Damocles will fall. A dozen years ago, as a result of the collision between the predecessor "Red King" and "Blue King", the sword of Damocles of the "Red King" fell and created a huge crater in the southern region of Kanto, changing the shape of the Japanese archipelago.

At that time, the "Blue King" also started a chain of outbursts that caused his vassals to die, but there is a past in which he avoided more disasters.

Already holding a large fire called "Red King" Suoh, who is endangering Weismann's deviation, now that he is chasing a person who calls himself "Colorless King", he fully understands the feeling of reluctance.

"But... as an action to be taken in accordance with the words of the suspect who seems to intend to use this... also..."

Munakata laughed.

"No. Aside from his words, I also have reason to doubt 'King Silver'."

"A reason...?"

When Awashima tried to lean forward, the PDA rang. Awashima shifted her posture and responded immediately. The other party appeared to be Fushimi, who ran to the source of Isana Yashiro's communication, but informed her that they were unable to capture him and only found an elaborate PDA.

Munakata approached the window as he listened to Awashima's voice, who gave the following instructions appropriately.

In the distant sky, he saw the "Silver King" airship, which was as small as a bean.

++++++++++

The black cat meowed.

In the reference room of the "Scepter 4 General Affairs Division", Zenjo looked out the window, holding a pile of old files that were about to fade in his arm. He could see many members rushing back and forth.

During the last ten days, the murder of the red clan member by the new "Colorless King" and the capture of the "Red King" have not rushed into the headquarters, but today the air is even more urgent and there is tension.

But that was also irrelevant to this library, which almost only served as a warehouse for ancient materials. The storm didn't get that far either.

There was a knock on the door of the data room and a woman named Yoshino, an employee of the "General Affairs Section", showed her face.

"It's going to be amazing today."

Yoshino said, she opened the can of cat food that she brought and put it on the plate on the floor. A black cat looking out the window happily walked in and sniffed.

This black cat somehow lives in this library. It was not his intention to keep him like a good cat, but the members treated him like a good cat. Apparently, this cat has a talent for catching mice, and Yoshino, who was concerned about the damage caused by mice in the "General Affairs Section Office", came to donate the cat's food every day.

"What happened again?"

When Yoshino asked while she cleaned up the materials, she rolled her eyes behind her large glasses.

"Don't you hear? It seems that the operation will take place from now on, surrounding the Himmelreich with a helicopter and trying to catch the 'Silver King'."

"That is incredible."

"Zenjo-san, aren't you surprised?"

"I'm surprised."

It's probably because his facial expression didn't move much. Yoshino looked at Zenjo suspiciously.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. The 'Silver King' didn't come down even when Kagutsu Genji was there, but is he going to come down to the ground now?"

There was an indescribable emotion and Yoshino muttered with a downcast gaze. Yoshino bowed her head and looked mysteriously at the depressed Zenjo.

Zenjo was an assistant to the predecessor "Blue King", Habari Jin, and was part of the case involving the downfall of Damocles from the predecessor "Red King", Kagutsu Genji.

However, to Yoshino, Zenjo is just a man who organizes materials all day in this dimly lit room.

"The 'Silver King' is the 'King' who has been in heaven the entire time."

"Yes, it's correct."

As he looked at the black cat eating the food that Yoshino gave him, Zenjo suddenly remembered the words of his predecessor, the "Blue King", who was not Reisi Munakata.

(Because that is the "King of Immutability." The flow of time may be different from ours. Just as insects and people do not live with the same experience, the speed of time that flows differ according to the moment of life. The "Silver King" can spend fifty years thinking that Kagutsu will come to a conclusion in five seconds.)

Will man finally change his way of life? Can they change him? Or has he changed?

He thought about it, but soon his thoughts were cut off. He is not apt to think.

"If that's the case, you may be too busy."

"Usually I am supposed to be very busy with various procedures, but this time I am moving forward with the Captain's power, so the floor clerk's job is not so much now. Maybe it will be difficult after this. I'm sure."

"Is that so."

"That's right."

The black cat that finished eating the food began to wash its face with satisfaction.

"Emergency dispatch, emergency dispatch. Divisions 1-5 will intercept Himmelreich and take into custody the First and 'Silver King', Adolf K, Weissmann."

The broadcast in the room is played from the headquarters loudspeakers.

The black cat howled again.

++++++++++

The interior of the "Scepter 4" command vehicle was spacious, and simple desks and chairs were set up for meetings to take place. The desk was now surrounded by Munakata and various members of the mission. The command vehicle circulated on the road at night towards the Suzugaya heliport where a large number of helicopters mobilized by the police await.

Awashima was at Munakata's side and gave a report.

"Still no response from the First 'King', the third request for communication was sent at 17:00."

"We have completed the necessary paperwork. Now we are going to take him into custody."

Munakata's statement creates an atmosphere of tension and anxiety among the members.

Awashima was still not convinced of this operation. Although Munakata was fully confident, abnormal situations occur in quick succession. In particular, there was the case of the "Red King", and she felt that Munakata might be impatient.

Awashima turns to Munakata to discuss the members' anxieties.

"But under Agreement 120, we do not have the authority to investigate the Himmelreich airship, which belongs to the First 'King'. I think we should obtain permission from the Second and 'Golden King' before proceeding."

"For whatever reason, he will not allow me to get near the First 'King'. That is why I will move as much as I can until he stops me."

At Munakata's words, Awashima was a bit embarrassed to be like a child who was afraid of being scolded by her words, and she cleared her throat in a hurry.

"So at least, can you tell us why we're going so far on this?"

Due to her statement, the members' questionable eyes met on Munakata.

"It's fine."

Munakata replied.

"In the first place, this is not a sudden action inspired by Yashiro Isana. It is true that his request has made me decide to act, but I have always been aware of the First 'King's suspicious behavior."

"Is the suspicious behavior related to the series of incidents?"

Awashima asked. Before Munakata answered, Fushimi, who had been silent until then, made a frustrated voice.

"The 'Silver King' is simply floating in the sky in an airship, and the average person thinks he is an urban legend, right? How could it be related to the current case?"

Munakata projected a map of Tokyo in the air for everyone to see.

"Let's explain step by step. For decades, the Himmelreich airship has been navigating various patterns. Except for mistakes in stormy weather, the following 15 patterns."

According to the Munakata operation, 15 types of ordered routes appear on the map projected in the air.

"Originally, it looks like they were flying the optimal route compared to the weather conditions, but now they are."

Fifteen routes on the map disappeared and random lines like children's graffiti appeared on the map.

The members sensed it. There were no rules, and they stared at the random route, which seemed to vary on a whim.

"I became aware of this change only a few days ago. At first, I thought I was doing nothing more than flying along an unusual trajectory. But due to what was happening, I contacted the Air Traffic Control of the Ukita Airport, just in case. As a result, it became clear that the route began to meander as shown in the figure immediately after an incident, the routes that it had maintained for decades had abruptly changed from that point on. What is natural to suspect?"

Having said that, Munakata echoed Fushimi.

"Last night, he also approached the stadium."

Fushimi stopped and made a little surprised face. He clenched his fist in frustration at his carelessness. Awashima opened her mouth.

"No way... that incident..."

Munakata sharpens his gaze. The random route on the map disappears like a rewind and stops at a certain point.

It showed a point in the Shizume construction district. The address and "December 7, 11:45 PM, Totsuka Tatara murder case on the rooftop of the Hirasaka building, Shizume." are displayed next to the one that is lit.

The air in the limbs tightened rapidly.

Munakata stood up and looked at the members with determined eyes.

"From now on, we "Scepter 4" will begin the operation to apprehend Adolf K. Weismann, the First "King" and "Silver King". A person of interest in the Totsuka Tatara assassination case. We will advise you to Himmelreich to land at a designated airport. If he doesn't obey, hurry up and take control of the interior!"

The members stretched their backs and stood up to Munakata's loud voice, which was heard like this only in case of an emergency, and saluted in response with a "Yes!"

++++++++++

Ignoring the radio of "Scepter 4", which was heard many times, many helicopters flew and began to surround the airship.

He sat on the couch and gazed out the large window at the view.

The Himmelreich airship is sometimes called an empty whale by observing humans on the ground. The surrounding "Scepter 4" helicopters were like a school of small fish swimming around a whale.

But it wasn't bad. It is said that, if there are small scales, it will be a masterpiece.

It got fun and the laughter leaked out naturally.

"Nice... Unexpected visitors must be as lively as this!"

He began to play on the spacious floor.

He took steps while singing a hummed song.

"Come on, more! More! More... I'll sneak away!"

The party had just started.

++++++++++

"No, I can't be careful if I want to do it.", The boy laughed, and Kuro frowned and said, "You've been sick since I met you." Perhaps Neko misinterpreted it as a compliment, happily raised her hands and said, "Shiro, Kokatsu!"

The boy was in a "Scepter 4" helicopter trying to reach the Himmelreich, where the First "King" is located. Since his determination in the morning, he was able to get to this point in a whole day, so it would be quite a feat.

However, what the boy did was that Kuro called Munakata with the PDA that he had stolen from a member of "Scepter 4." After that, Munakata installed everything, and at night he settled in and put into practice the capture operation of the Himmelreich. The boy and the others just lurked on the helipad and waited. Then when all the members of "Scepter 4" tried to get on the helicopter, they put them to sleep with the illusion of Neko and Kuro's physique, went into the warehouse and borrowed the helicopter that they were supposed to ride. Currently, they approach the airship among the helicopters flying the members of "Scepter 4".

"By the way, Kuro, why can you control a helicopter?"

"Because I'm Ichigen-sama's disciple. It's natural to be able to do so much."

Kuro was proud. The boy complained like saying "That guy again."

Kuro's maneuver was not dangerous. He followed the instructions on the radio and flew into the formation placed by "Scepter 4."

As the majesty of the Himmelreich, like a whale swimming in the air, approached, the boy's heart began to scream.

Wondering if he was nervous, the boy puts his hand on his chest.

When the helicopters from "Scepter 4" completely surrounded the Himmelreich, the radio instructions came hoarsely.

"Wait just three minutes from the Captain's final recommendation! If the airship does not lower its altitude or does not respond to the light-emitting signal, as soon as you confirm one of them, connect the cable of each machine and hurry!"

At that time, the "Blue King" is about to send the final recommendation to the Himmelreich. The group of helicopters that surround the Himmelreich and stand in an orderly formation in the air is more like soldiers protecting the King of Heaven.

In the hovering helicopter, the boy watched the blimp go by.

"Hey, Kuro."

"What?"

"Can you tell me more about the 'Silver King'?"

"I have not met him in person. I only have fragmentary information that I heard from Ichigen-sama..."

"That's fine. Tell me."

The buzzing in his chest hadn't subsided in a while. Kuro, who is concentrating on maneuvering, replied without looking at the boy.

"Among the seven kings, he is special just like the 'Golden King'. But the most mysterious thing is his nature. The 'Golden King' is called the Second King, just because there is the 'Silver King'."

"In other words, is he the First King?"

"He is the first of all kings, and he rules over heaven. The only being who can compete with the 'Golden King' who is the ruler of earth."

When he was seriously listening to Kuro's story, suddenly a limb light shone from the side and he accidentally closed his eyes.

"Hey, who's the one hitting the reflector on the side of him! It stabilizes your flight more!"

He heard a frustrating scream on the radio.

"Sparkly!"

Neko in the back seat, completely tired of the difficult story, leaned between Kuro and the boy's seat with bright eyes and played with the reflector. Believing that the many switches in the cabin were interesting, Neko began to play with the curiosity of an animal cat.

"Do not behave suspiciously! We will be discovered before boarding!"

"Fu…"

Even if she was scolded, Neko just turned around and didn't care.

"Even if we are able to tackle successfully, there is no way we can stop being bothered by these meddlers."

The boy dared to laugh optimistically at Kuro, who was aware of a large number of helicopter units and had a difficult face. Although he has managed to get transportation so far, he is well aware that he is a mouthful and a great plan. But no matter which route he choose, it's still a tightrope walk. He felt that he could do something if he was with Kuro and Neko.

"Okay, then we'll take it and escape again."

"You don't even have to worry about the bespectacled boss! You see, you can't go up first unless you hurry up more!"

Neko was much more optimistic about what the boy said with such joy, and he suddenly jumped on the control board that Kuro was holding. The helicopter rocked enormously and plunged into the belly of the Himmelreich as it moved like a drunk and staggered.

"Ah, idiot!"

"Who's the idiot? The Captain hasn't made any orders yet!"

Kuro changes his complexion and the most frustrating reprimand comes off the radio.

The boy also drew his face and stared at the suddenly approaching blimp; at that moment, he felt like someone was watching him from the airship.

At the same time, he heard a roar. The dark night sky had turned bright red.

An explosion.

In front of them, the Himmelreich suddenly exploded and was surrounded by flames.

"Eh?"

Only a slight sound escaped the boy's throat.

Suddenly on fire, the whale in the sky lost its ability to fly and died, and fell on the helicopter in which the boy and the others were traveling.

++++++++++

At that moment, Daikaku Kokujoji was alone in front of the Slate.

A huge block of stone called the "Dresden Slate" was under the tempered glass on the floor.

A mysterious relic that was once studied by Kokujoji in a foreign country with friends and dreams, and has now chosen and empowered seven "kings" in Japan.

On the board, Kokujoji was looking at the Himmelreich airship, in which his friend was traveling, engulfed in flames and falling.

"Weismann. You are..."

Behind the window, he looks at the distant sky turning red and mutter under his breath.

#k #k project #k the first story #k novel #Isana Yashiro #Yatogami Kuroh #neko #reisi munakata #Awashima Seri

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musingsofsaturn · 3 years

Text

Raging Storm | Kristanna Week

Fandom: Frozen, Frozen II

Ship: Anna/Kristoff

Words: 1,800+

Rating: T for references to murder

Summary: A rewrite of the thawing scene in the first ‘Frozen’ film. Anna, Elsa, Hans, and Kristoff race across the icy fjord in pursuit of their destinies, and an act of true love changes Arendelle forever.

Author’s Note: Hello! I am so excited to finally be able to share this oneshot with you all for Kristanna Week 2020. The first prompt was all about rage, passion, and fire, and when this idea came to mind it just demanded to be written. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and happy Kristanna Week everybody! ~Saturn

[Cover photo is an edit I made from a screencap found on Buzzfeed.]

The storm raged on around them.

Elsa, in her panic, ran across the frozen fjord. Her hands were pressed close to her chest, desperate not to do any more harm, even as the wind picked up and the blizzard swirled even harder around them.

Hans was in pursuit of her. He could hardly see anything for the walls of white in front of him. The snow was oppressive, unyeilding, but still he pressed forward in search of the snow queen.

Kristoff ran on, calling Anna’s name into the howling wind as he went. He had seen storms, he’d felt ice, and yet he felt he was completely unprepared for anything quite like this. He’d never felt a sense of danger of this magnitude in all his life.

Anna could feel the sensation of ice within her chest, freezing her from the inside out. Her limbs were stiff, as though the very blood in her veins was freezing. It stung her in pinpricks, caused her to shiver and struggle, and yet she continued on. There was only one thing in the world that could save her now, and he was out on the fjord. If she could just keep going, she could finally kiss Kristoff in an act of true love that would thaw her frozen heart.

In the corner of his eye, Hans detected a flash of blue that interrupted the oppressive mass of white snow that flurried through the air. A soft sob, barely audible over the sound of the storm, convinced him that he’d found his target at last.

“Elsa!” he called out to her. She stopped, turning to him. The whites of her eyes were clearly visible, and her chest was heaving with frantic breaths. “Elsa, you have to surrender. Please, stop this storm!” He stood, strong and certain, gazing at the snow queen as she moved closer to him.

“Don’t you see?” she cried desperately. “I can’t! You have to let me go.”

“Elsa, you can’t run from this! No harm will come to you if you stop this now.”

She shook her head, before asking him, “Where is my sister? Where’s Anna?”

Hans disguised the truth from her behind a mask of concern and sorrow. “Anna? She returned from the mountains weak and cold. You froze her heart,” he told her, watching as Elsa stilled in horror. “I tried to save her, but I was too late. Her skin was ice. Her hair turned white. Your sister is dead - because of you.”

Suddenly, the wind softened, before dying out all together. The swirling flakes of snow and hail stood still in the air. Elsa barely noticed as the slowly drifted towards the ground, until the sky was finally clear.

Her panic gave way to an icy grief. It encompassed everything, her entire being, and the weight of it dragged her body to the floor. In a heartbroken howl, Elsa wept for Anna, her sister, whose warm and loving life had been snuffed out because of the monster that Elsa had become.

As the storm stood still, Anna finally locked eyes with Kristoff across the frozen fjord.

A sense of relief flooded through them both, and Kristoff breathed her name before he took off running towards her. He moved as fast as he could, skidding on the ice of the fjord a few times, desperate to cover the distance between in as short a time as possible.

Anna’s limbs continued to stiffen, and she felt ice coursing through her as she stepped in his direction. Every movement was agony, and still she struggled in Kristoff’s direction, urgently aware that she had mere moments to reach her true love and save herself.

A sound to her right caught her attention, and she turned stiffly to see Hans unsheathing his sword. On the ground, defenceless and unaware, her sister lay in a broken heap, and Anna watched in horror as Hans started to stalk towards her.

Rage overcame her.

Hans Westergaard had taken advantage of her when she was lonely, naive, and desperate. He’d captured her attention, and her heart, intentionally and with vicious intent.

When she’d come to him, trusting and desperate, he threw it all back in her face. Cruelly, he deliberately left her to die a painful death, alone and terrified.

All along, his plan had been to destroy Anna and her sister. For the sake of his own greed, he was willing to lie, abuse, and murder. He’d thought of staging an ‘accident’ for her sister, and now he finally thought he had an excuse to kill her in cold blood, even as she was unable - or unwilling - to defend herself.

As he raised the sword, Anna knew that he thought he had won. That he thought Arendelle was his for the taking.

And that thought filled her with so much burning fury that she felt herself growing hot.

Torn, she turned to Kristoff, who was still running towards her, desperate to save her life. Then she turned back to Elsa, who lay on the floor as Hans marched menacingly towards her. She could save herself, or she could save her sister. In the end, it was an easy choice to make.

All Kristoff could do was watch as the woman he loved shot him a look of apology, before turning away from him and running away across the fjord.

The ice in Anna’s veins seemed to melt, and her renewed heat and strength made her feel powerful and capable. Renewed, she darted across the fjord at an inhuman pace, leaping between Hans and her sister. As he brought the sword down towards them both, she raised her hand, blazing hot, and shouted with a fearsome, burning love for her sister.

“No!”

As the sword - sharpened to a deadly point - touched her flesh, the metal bubbled and melted. Hans and Anna gazed in wonder at the weapon. All that remained in his hand was the hilt. The blade was warped and dripping molten steel onto the ice of the fjord.

At Anna’s shout, Elsa had jumped to her feet. She was completely enthralled at the sight of her sister blazing with magical heat that made her body seem to glow from within.

Anna’s fury was now redirected away from the weapon, and was aimed squarely at the monster who had wielded it. Her hand, still outstretched, emitted sparks and embers, and finally a glowing red flame. It flew from Anna’s flesh, striking Hans in the chest and sending him soaring backwards. He hit the mast of a ship, before dropping to the ground with a heavy thud. His body lay completely still.

“Anna.”

Elsa’s soft, incredulous voice captured Anna’s attention. Her hand lowered as she turned towards her sister, and the otherwordly glow that had consumed her flesh slowly faded.

The sisters embraced. Elsa relaxed into her sister’s warm touch, even as Anna basked in the relieving cold of Elsa’s skin.

Kristoff reached the pair of them, eyes wide and babbling uselessly as he tried to take in what he had just witnessed. Finally, he managed to collect his thoughts enough to say simply, “You have powers too?”

“I’m sorry,” Anna replied, strangely sheepish. “If I had known, I would have said something, I promise.”

“H-how do you feel?” he asked her, concerned that she might still be gravely ill once the adrenaline of what had just happened wore off.

Anna stepped away from Elsa, flexing her limbs and wiggling her fingers and toes. “I feel fine. Wait, no- better than fine. I feel amazing, actually.”

“‘Only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart’,” Elsa murmured to herself. “Anna, you gave up on saving your own life to sacrifice yourself for me. I think that was the act of true love that saved you.”

“Well, it makes sense. I do love you.” Anna smiled, taking Elsa’s hand in her own.

“‘Love will thaw’.” They shared a soft smile, relaxing now that the immediate danger was behind them.

“Um, Anna?” Kristoff spoke shakily. “I think we’ve been going about this the wrong way. Everyone thought it was Elsa that had to end the storm, but I think it might be you, feistypants.”

“Me? But I just-” The pair of them were watching her expectantly. “Oh, uh, okay...”

Feeling a little silly, Anna raised her hands. Half expecting it not to work, she closed her eyes, spreading her fingers, and tried to summon the same burning warmth she’d felt before.

Kristoff and Elsa watched in rapt amazement as the ice at Anna’s feet started to melt. The thawing seemed to accelerate and expand, moving far beyond the young princess and out across the fjord.

As he watched, Kristoff couldn’t help but feel warmth within himself as well. When they’d first met, he’d misunderstood her as a spoiled, naive brat, but he’d swiftly come to know that she was fiercely loyal, deeply insecure, and had a heart of pure gold. As he’d walked away from the palace, his entire body had ached from the sheer agony of knowing that he would never see her again.

But he had seen her again. He’d come running to meet her, even as she hurried to him, as they both realised the truth: they were in love. Powerful, fearsome, and true, they were in love.

And now, Kristoff was watching the woman he loved, a woman who was so tormented and utterly unconvinced of her own self-worth, saving the entire kingdom from icy destruction.

Gods, he thought, she’s extraordinary.

Motion beneath her feet made Anna open her eyes, and she gasped as the boat they were stood on bobbed on the now thawed water of the fjord. Behind them, Arendelle’s citizens were cheering her on as the snow melted from the houses and the ice across the streets dissolved.

The sun shone bright above them as only the snow at the top of the distant mountains remained. For the first time in her life, Anna felt strong, powerful, and capable of anything.

Still glowing slightly, Anna turned back to Kristoff and Elsa, wrapping them both in an exuberant bear hug. “We did it!” she cried excitedly.

“You did it.” Elsa’s voice was muffled in Anna’s hair. “You have always held far more power than anybody ever realised.”

Kristoff allowed the sisters to share their moment, stepping aside as they both turned to face their kingdom. He wasn’t a royal, he wasn’t magical, he had no place standing at their sides.

As she gazed across the bank of the fjord, Anna felt as though a part of her was missing. Even as she took her sister’s hand in her own, knowing that Arendelle was safe at last, she experienced an emptiness, as though something remained unfinished.

Looking around, Anna’s eyes fell on Kristoff as he maintained a respectful distance. Wordlessly, she held out her free hand, smiling softly as Kristoff hesitantly moved forward and took it. His hands were so much larger than her own, and his grip was firm and steady. Anna tried to channel her powers into her palms, hoping that her companions might feel the warmth of love that she felt for them both.

“Come on,” Anna said proudly, turning back to the kingdom of Arendelle with a smile. “Let’s go home.”

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charlienick · 5 years

Note

hi and i love u. "i swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth" for the prompts....

Richie has decided that his dream-self can get fucked. And not in the fun way.

When he’s 24, at least once per night, Richie has what he would describe as an erotic nightmare. He never actually has sex in these dreams, nor does he die or even get seriously maimed. But they’re still definitely erotic, and they’re definitely nightmares.

The first went something like this:

He is tied to a chair. He can’t get up. The rope is chafing his skin. He struggles against the darkness, but he does not move. He can’t. Squinting out into the inky black, he wonders if he’s wearing his glasses. It’s only once he has that thought that he sees a spotlight lighting up his childhood kitchen. His refrigerator has magnets from Acadia National Park, a photo of him and Bill flipping off the camera and laughing, a copy of his sonogram. The sight of it makes him ache in a way he can’t describe, nor does he have time to, because stepping out of the hallway and into the light is his childhood best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak.

Eddie is wearing a cream-colored sweater that he wore a lot in his late-teens and the bright red shorts he was so fond of in middle school. It’s a jarring combination, because Richie never saw him wear those two articles of clothing at the same time, let alone in the same era. He’s picking at a thread spinning loose from the sweater, looking down at it. He bites his bottom lip, and Richie starts to feel nervous, uncomfortable, because whenever he finds himself wishing Eddie were a woman so that it would feel normal for him to want to take his lip between his own, he looks away. Makes a joke. Averts attention from the ache in his heart, in his head, in his jeans.

He can’t do that now. He tries, but he doesn’t succeed. There’s something invisible keeping his head pointed forward. Eddie snaps his eyes up, smirks with the lip still caught in his teeth, and says… something. Richie can’t hear him from so far away, his hearing fuzzy the way his vision always is. The smirk isn’t cruel, isn’t mean or even teasing. Eddie looks proud of himself. He shucks off his sweater in one fluid movement and drops it to the linoleum beneath him. His skin shines golden, and Richie can hardly breathe. He feels like he’s being asphyxiated, and he bucks his hips, turned on and terrified.

And then he wakes up.

Dreams like this have happened almost nightly for months now. Once, it’s Eddie giving him a lap dance while he’s tied to the couch in their apartment. Another time, Bev catches Eddie stripping for him in his bedroom, and her laughter echoes all the way into the waking world. Regardless of the content of his dreams, Richie always remembers them in painstaking detail, and it’s really causing a rift between he and Eddie.

This sucks major donkey dick for three reasons: the first is that Richie is, like, deeply uncomfortable in his own home at all times. He can’t look at Eddie with his feet propped up on the ottoman without remembering how his legs looked wrapped around Richie’s waist, can’t hear his voice without remembering how he sounded moaning Richie’s name. The second reason, of course, is that Eddie is his best friend, and it’s shitty that Richie can’t find comfort in that the way he used to.

The third reason is that Eddie is starting to fucking notice.

He cornered Richie in the kitchen while he was making himself breakfast two mornings ago, and demanded he tell him what he did wrong because he couldn’t stand another weird, uncomfortable second of this weird standstill he and Richie had found themselves in. “What weird, uncomfortable standstill?” Richie had basically responded with, chuckling manically like that wouldn’t be a total tip-off that things were in fact weird and uncomfortable.

He has stopped walking around in his boxers, terrified that he’s going to get a hard-on when Eddie, like, waters the fucking spider plant and his shirt rides up and Richie short-circuits and has a total meltdown.

So he figures he’s attracted to his best friend. So what, he says to himself alone in his bedroom after jacking off the moment he woke up for the fifth day in a row. So I’m attracted to Eddie. Eddie is a pretty boy. This means nothing. I’m still straight.

He considers bringing this up to Stan, because next to Eddie, Stan is his best friend, but Stan would definitely laugh at him and say something like you’re an idiot. Go kiss your roommate and leave me be, which, okay, true, but not necessary. He knows, Brain-Stan! He’s aware the situation is reaching its boiling point! But he can’t exactly fucking tell Eddie, hey, I wanna suck your dick, but no homo, O best friend of mine! Eddie wouldn’t understand that the situation is precariously balanced between Richie’s suppression and the knowledge that Eddie has definitely sucked dick before.

Because Eddie was able to come out after he and the Losers moved from Maine to San Francisco, he has caught some dick regularly for the past six years. He’s pretty, as Richie’s head, heart, and apparently now dick all agree upon, and the four or so men he has in rotation all seem to think so, too. When Eddie would bring home a suitor prior to Richie’s epic sexual breakdown, he would just scamper over to Bev and Ben’s, or go bother Stan, Mike, and Bill at theirs. Now however, because on top of being attracted to his best friend, he’s also a goddamn masochist, and he’s staying holed up in his room listening to Eddie get fucked (or fuck? He isn’t certain on the makeup of his screwings, though not for lack of trying), one hand stripping his dick, feeling like a total and complete asshole.

Richie knows that one’s sexuality is not always privy to one’s knowledge of whether or not the person would be interested in bedding him or not, and his wild imagination is not totally hinged upon reality. Bev and Ben would definitely not tie him up and have their way with him, but that’s still a familiar fantasy in his spank bank; he knows it will never happen, but it’s called a fantasy for a reason. However, jacking off to the sound of actual-Eddie’s moans and sighs is definitely crossing a line, and he knows it.

So since that one fated, sordid evening, he has decided that he isn’t going to jack off at all until either the dreams stop or he’s able to talk this out with Eddie in a normal way without totally having a mental breakdown.

This was a stupid decision, he decides ten days in, because it seems like the dreams aren’t going to stop and he’s going to have to face this for real or his subconscious might actually eat him alive. He’s not going to give into his libido because his heart is stronger than that. His weak willpower will not be his downfall.

So he decides to talk to Ben, because he’s the least likely to make fun of him about this, and because he might be able to knock some sense into him.

“Wait, you and Eddie aren’t making love already?” Ben’s face screws up in confusion. “Oh.”

“What do you mean, oh? We haven’t ever knocked boots because I’m straight as an arrow.”

“Sorry to inform you, Rich, but having… ‘erotic nightmares’ about your male best friend isn’t exactly heterosexual behavior.” Richie goes to cut in, but Ben holds a hand up. “And what would be so wrong with liking boys? Or liking Eddie?” Richie snaps his mouth shut. “Eddie is the best. You love Eddie as a friend, right?”

“Totally, yeah, I mean, yeah!” Richie rambles, nodding violently.

Ben smiles patiently, “So what would be so bad about loving him all the way?”

“I… I didn’t know… I mean, I’ve had sex with girls. It just doesn’t light a fire under my dick the same way this seems to. He’s so pretty, and I don’t quite know how to go back to seeing him the way I used to now that I see him so clearly. It’s like I’ve been looking at him without my glasses on my whole life, and now everything is so much less fuzzy. Like I understand it better now.” His eyes widen as the silence stretches on, Ben smiling softly the whole time. “I mean, uh, you know, he could hop on my dick and I wouldn’t say no. Then I’d have fucked the whole Kaspbrak clan.”

Ben’s nose wrinkles in distaste, so he doesn’t respond to that. Instead, he says, “Tell him, Richie. I promise it won’t go badly.”

“But what if he doesn’t want to fuck me back?”

“You really think all this is is sex, Richie?” Ben asks quietly. He offers him another smile, an encouraging one this time, “And I already promised—it won’t go badly.”

So Richie decides, fuck it. He’ll tell Eddie tomorrow.

But then he wakes up in a cold sweat from tonight’s newest erotic nightmare, this time leaning more heavily on the nightmarish aspect than the erotic, and he decides tomorrow can’t wait. Tonight. He’s doing this right now, because he can’t stand another moment not being close to Eddie.

He puts on his glasses, pads out of his room and knocks softly on Eddie’s door. “Eds? You up?” Silence. He knocks a bit harder. “Eddie?” He hears Eddie sniff harshly from inside his room, and something knocks loudly. “Eds? You okay?”

“Mmph,” comes Eddie’s muffled reply. “Come in, you dick.”

Richie smiles and does as he’s told. He can see Eddie relatively clearly through the slats in the blinds open to the moon high above them. He’s rubbing the side of his head, his hair a total mess, his shirt rumpled, his frown intense, and Richie realizes, fuck, I love this angry little goblin. Jesus Christ, I love him.

“Hitting your head on the headboard is way less fun when you’re by yourself,” he grumbles. He wraps an arm around his knees and tilts his head. “What’s up at… 3:50 AM?”

“I…” Richie breathes out unsteadily. He decides to go with the truth: “I had a nightmare.”

“Oh. Shit,” Eddie frowns, pulling back the blankets. “You wanna cuddle?”

Richie nods dramatically and pitches himself into Eddie’s bed, immediately wrapping himself around Eddie. Eddie snorts, laughs quietly, and turns in Richie’s hold, slotting their thighs together so they’re facing one another. “Dick. You know I don’t like to be the little spoon, ‘specially with you and your newborn-deer limbs.”

“Can’t you make an exception just this once, Spaghetti?” Richie smiles, but he’s really only teasing; he’s just fine with this.

“So long as you tell me what the dream was about.” Richie tenses in Eddie’s hold, thinking, shit, I really should’ve assumed he’d ask. “I mean, if you want. But until you tell me, I demand to be the big spoon.”

Richie sighs, turning in Eddie’s hold only because it’ll be easier to say it if he isn’t looking right at him. “So I’ve been having these… we’ll call them erotic nightmares.”

“That sounds like a term you thought of weeks ago and are very proud to finally get the chance to utter.”

“Die.” Eddie snorts. “Actually, don’t-don’t do that,” Richie whispers, “please don’t die.”

“I won’t,” Eddie says, sounding like he’s about to laugh but trying not to. “Was that what the dream was about tonight? Is that why you’ve been acting so weird lately?”

“Sort of, yeah. You were, uh, you were on top of me, and you… I didn’t even see it coming. Your heart, it was… I don’t even think it could ever happen in real life.”

Eddie slips a hand beneath Richie’s shirt, cupping his hip bone and rhythmically running his thumb in the hollow between it and his stomach. “It didn’t happen, Rich. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Richie breathes out, less shaky this time, and nods. “Okay.”

A long pause, and then, “You said these nightmares, they’re erotic.” Richie’s blood runs cold. Fuck, he didn’t want this to be how he said it. “Is that why I was on top of you?”

“Sort of,” Richie whispers. “Yeah.”

“Like… Like this?” Eddie dislodges his thigh out from between Richie’s and hooks it over his hips, forcing him to lay flat on the bed. Eddie hovers over him, eyes dark and electric in the moonlight. He looks ethereal, holy, and nothing like he did in the dream. “What happens next? When I’m above you like this?”

“It’s different every time,” Richie says all in one breath. Eddie’s boxer shorts are hanging and brushing against the tops of Richie’s thighs. He feels a light breeze away from spontaneously combusting. “Sometimes you dance for me.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, laughing quietly, “I can’t dance.”

“I know that, but my dreams don’t.” Eddie smile drops in an instant.

“What else?”

“Sometimes you hold me down⁠—”

Richie cuts himself off with a gasp when Eddie nudges Richie’s hands out from where they’re balled in Eddie’s sheets and presses them down to the bed beside his head. “Like this?” Richie chokes, nodding. He can’t say anything. He can hardly breathe. “What’s next, Richie?”

“You-you grind on me ‘til you—oh, holy shit.” Eddie swivels his hips in a tight circle against Richie’s dick, both of them already hard.

“Yeah? You been dreamin’ of me like this, Rich? How long?”

“What?”

“How long,” he grinds down low, and Richie moans, “have you,” he does it again, and Richie gasps, keening loudly, “been dreaming of me? Because I’ve been dreaming of you for years, Rich.”

“Motherfucking tap-dancing Jesus, you have?” Richie demands.

“Of course I have. Sometimes, when I bring a boy home, I pretend he’s you.”

“Oh my God.”

“Sometimes I accidentally say your name.”

Richie bucks his hips, feeling wild, caged. “Eddie, please, I need—”

“What do you want, Rich? I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Kiss me.” And he does. It’s everything and nothing like Richie dreamed it would be. It’s hot, searing, Eddie’s mouth a brand against his own, but the way Eddie is licking into his mouth feels nothing like he dreamed it would. It feels like he just wants to take care of Richie; he really wants to give Richie everything he asks for, and Richie feels drunk with the power-rush that brings. Beautiful, perfect, wonderful Eddie Kaspbrak wants to give him what he asks.

“Eddie,” he pants, and Eddie immediately pulls away, eyes liquid as they rake over Richie’s chest, still covered in his shirt. The light weight of it is suddenly stifling. “Please take off my shirt.”

“Of course, baby,” Eddie murmurs, unlocking their fingers and helping Richie sit up so he can do as he’s asked. “That better, angel?”

“Oh my God,” Richie whines, nodding. “This is so hot.”

Eddie smiles, “I agree. You’re definitely as beautiful as I dreamed you’d be.”

“You dreamed about me, too?” Richie sighs, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the thought of Eddie stripping his dick to the girls Richie’s brought home.

“Of course, Richie,” Eddie responds, hushed as he maps out Richie’s torso with the palms of his hands. One of his thumbs catches on Richie’s nipple, and he hisses, then gasps when he does it again. “Sometimes it’s sex dreams, like yours, but sometimes I dream you take me out to eat, or to the movies. Once, I dreamed you asked me to marry you and I woke up crying.”

“Eddie,” Richie says, all broken into pieces, jagged edges that sound serrated. “I would. You know I would, right?”

Eddie smiles softly, leaning over Richie and lacing their fingers back together, but the weight of Eddie on top of him doesn’t feel so suppressive anymore. It’s a comfort. It’s everything he could never admit to wanting. “I do now.”

He captures Richie’s mouth again, kisses that fall over him like stars, like meteorites, planets exploding behind his eyelids and pop rocks fizzing in his blood. He’s a shaking mess by the time Eddie pulls back again, kissing his neck and then sucking a mark into his collarbone, to his pulse point. He feels ready to burst, nearing absolute explosion.

“I want to fuck you, Richie,” Eddie says against his skin, and Richie moans to the ceiling, eyes rolling back in his head. “I want to fuck you, but I need to know this isn’t a one time thing. I won’t be my best friend’s sexual experiment, and I won’t be your fuck buddy. I can’t.”

“Eddie, I… look at me, please look at me,” Richie begs, unlacing their fingers and cupping Eddie’s cheeks. He looks terrified, ready to work himself into a panic attack, so Richie says, “I want to fuck you too, but more than that, I want to fuck your heart.”

Eddie snorts and goes boneless, his forehead knocking into Richie’s chin. “I hate you so much. I can’t believe you just said you want to fuck my heart, that’s so gross, what does that even mean?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like,” Richie says, proud that he managed to distract Eddie from the burgeoning panic. “I want to fuck your heart.”

“No, I want to fuck your heart,” Eddie shoots back, frowning intensely. Richie’s responding smile is blinding.

“We’re heart-switches.”

“This is the worst day of my life.”

“Sure, Eds.”

“Don’t call me Eds in bed! I’m outlawing all nicknames when we’re hard, it’s uncouth!”

“What about…” Richie runs the tip of his nose over the thin skin of Eddie’s neck, “baby?”

“Oh,” Eddie sighs, elbows buckling where he’s holding himself over top of Richie, “baby’s good.”

“Yeah?” Richie smiles, hooking his hands up under Eddie’s shirt and bunching it under his arms. “What about angel, my love, is that one okay?”

“This isn’t fair,” Eddie whines, falling down to his elbows and crushing Richie as he laughs, “you can’t use my weak heart against me.”

“Weak?” Richie smiles against Eddie’s skin, feeling more at home than he ever has in his life. “Nah. I think you’re the strongest person I know.”

“Richie…” Eddie smiles, embarrassed, and leans up to kiss him again, which is fine with Richie, because he’s embarrassed, too. Thank god for erotic nightmares, Richie thinks as he cups Eddie’s hip and licks into his mouth, finally free, finally alive.

#ask #michelllejones #richie tozier #reddie #it chapter two #what is this!!!!!#masterpost #greatest hits

584 notes · View notes

nickysurfer28 · 4 years

Text

Summary: Now that you know the truth about what Chris has done, can you find it in your heart to forgive him?

Characters: Dr.Nicky Ransom x Chris Evans , Judith, Denise Ames (Cousin),Clare- sister to Nicky (mentioning) ,Adrian -(mentioning) (twin to Chris )

Warning ⚠️: 18+ only , swearing smut,nudity,angst,paranormal

Chapter 13:

Dream sequence **

The final door opens to a familiar room.

“Is this... my room at the Marina Blanca Motel?” Nicky replied.

And on the bed, writhing in sexual ecstasy...

“Oh my God, that’s me!”

But it isn’t the wanton moans escaping her dreaming self’s lips that make the blood drain from her face...it’s the sight of Chris sitting beside her, a look of deep concentration on his face as his hands over over her body.

“It’s the safest to feed while humans dream.” Chris answered.

The Nicky in the bed sighs blissfully- dreaming, she knows, of a lover on a twilight beach.

“And erotic dreams yield the most energy.” Chris replied.

She staggered back, her heart in her throat.

“It’s was Chris! I thought they were just dreams, but the whole time it was him! I feel so...confused. How is this happening?”

The Chris at the sleeping Nicky’s side lowers his forehead to hers, an unearthly golden glow suffusing his body as she comes. Sated, he rises from the bed.

“Do you understand now?” Chris replied.

“You...you fed on me...” Nicky answered.

“I didn’t seek you out, but I sensed the strength of your life force the night we met.” Chris answered.

“You fed on me!” Nicky answered angrily.

“Only because I knew it wouldn’t harm you.” Chris replied.

He reaches for her, but she shoved him away with all her might.

“That doesn’t make it better, Chris! I didn’t consent to it! To any of it! Nicky yelled.

“I know, Nicky, and I’m sorry. Please believe that I never meant for it to go this far.” Chris replied sadly.

“I do believe you.” Nicky answered. “And we’re finished here.”

Dream sequence end.

She breaks free of the dream, waking abruptly in Chris’s library. Chris is crouched before her, concerned blue eyes boring into her. She rises unsteadily from her chair. The room spins.

“Carful, now-“ Chris answered.

He reaches out, as if to help her up.

Sighing, she let him reach out to steady her. His strong arms are careful, almost delicate as he touches her.

“Are you all right?” Chris answered.

She leans against him as her visions swims.

“I...I’m fine.” Nicky answered.

Gently, she breaks away from him.

“Chris, I need to think.” Nicky answered. “No matter how you look at it, this is a betrayal of trust. I can’t believe I thought... I can’t believe I wanted...”

“Nicky...” Chris answered sadly.

“Don’t.” Nicky replied. She sighs. “I’m sorry, Chris, but I need space. I don’t want to see you right now. Maybe not ever.”

She turns on her heels, fleeing into the safety of the bright morning sun.

A car pulls up just as she reaches the street. Judith rolls down the window.

“Need a lift?” Judith answers.

Somehow, she’s not surprised to see her. She clamber silently into the passenger’s side, and Judith pulls away from the curb.

“You know, don’t you? What he is.” Nicky answered.

“I did. He texted a while ago for me to pick you up.” Judith answered. “He thought you might need to talk to someone...human.”

“Oh my God...” Nicky replied sadly.

Nicky scrubbed her hands over her face. “I’m so overwhelmed, all I can do is...cry.”

Huge, soul-shattering sobs tear from her throat. Judith says nothing, only hands her a pack of tissues.

“Let it all out, honey. That’s the only thing for it.” Judith replied.

Nicky sniffles into the tissue as Judith parks near a park.

“How long have you know about him?” Nicky answered.

“Why...since about 1942.” Judith answered.

Her jaw drops.

“But...you’d have been-“ Nicky answered.

“A little girl?” Judith answered. “I was. In occupied France. My parents died in the resistance. When the Allied forces arrived, Chris found me hiding in what remained of our village. He took me in. Not long after that, I walked in on him...”

“Feeding?” Nicky answered.

“I was trying to think of a nicer word for it, but yes.” Judith replied.

“And... you weren’t afraid?” Nicky replied.

Judith shrugs.

“I was a child of war, honey. By that age, I’d seen humans do worse.” Judith replied. “ Chris’s unique needs were easy enough for me to accept.”

Judith takes in the scenery, than looks back at Nicky.

“How about a walk? I think some fresh air might do us both some good.” Judith answered.

Nicky nods, following her lead.

“What I don’t know is why Chris decided to tell you about all this now.” Judith answered.

“I...might have forced his hand a little.” Nicky answered awkwardly.

She giver her a quick recap of her confrontation with Chris , and her expression grows steadily sadder.

“I had no idea about your sister I’m so sorry.” Judith replied.

“Did you know about Adrian?” Nicky replied.

“Only that he existed and Chris hadn’t seen him over a hundred years.” Judith answered. “If I’d suspected that bastard was the one who took my Denise...”

Despite herself, she smile. “Judith...I’m pretty sure you’d have kicked his ass. You’re a tough old broad.”

“And don’t you forget it!” Judith smiled.

Nicky lapse into easy silence as she walked, watching the boats drift along the clam water.

“Judith? Did Chris ever feed on you?” Nicky answered.

Judith shakes her head.

“Never. He makes a paint of never feeding on people he knows personally.” Judith replied.

“Until now.” Nicky answered.

“Until now.” Judith replied. “So you can see, then, why I suspect you’re so special.”

“I don’t feel special. Just used. Manipulated.” Nicky answered sadly.

“Well. I do see why.” Judith replied.

Judith inclines her head toward the car. “Come on. Let’s head back.” Judith answered.

When Nicky returns, Judith pauses.

“I brought something to show you, if you’ll let me. To shed some light on who Chris really is.” Judith replied.

“Show me. Please.” Nicky replied.

Judith pops the trunk, producing a shoebox full of photos. She hands her one.

“This was taken the day he found me.” Judith replied.

Nicky heart aches for the little girl in her ruined village.

“Oh, Judith...” Nicky replied sadly.

“It gets better from here, I promise.” Judith answered.

Judith shows her 15th birthday. Her high school graduation. Her wedding. And ever present in the background....

“Chris. He was with her every step of the way. No wonder she loves him so much.”

Nicky’s eyes begin to well as Judith hands her a portrait of herself in her 20s.

“You were so beautiful.” Nicky answered. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Judith.”

“Do you understand now? Who he is?” Judith replied.

“I think I’m starting to.” Nicky replied.

Nicky sighs.

“Chris didn’t ask to be what he is,Nicky. He’d be something else in a heartbeat if he could.” Judith answered. “But he is a good man. And he is crazy about you.”

“Judith-“ Nicky replied.

Judith waves her hand.

“You have every right to be furious with him, I know. But I also think it may be worth giving him a second chance.” Judith replied. “Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

“I....will.” Nicky answered. “I have a lot of thinking to do.”

“Thank you, honey.” Judith replied.

Judith drops you off at home, and Nicky goes about her day as if her entire world hadn’t just changed forever. Her final client of the day is an exhausted-looking woman. She wrings her hands nervously as she sits on Nicky’s couch.

“Can you tell me a little about what brings you here,Mrs. Sahir?” Nicky replied.

She frowns down at her hands.

“I...I’m afraid to go to sleep.” Mrs. Sahir replied.

“ And why is that? Nicky replied.

“It’s ridiculous.” Mrs. Sahir replied.

“Not if it’s negatively impacting your life, it isn’t.” Nicky replied.

She breathes a heavy sigh.

“Every time I close my eyes... I see monsters lying in wait to attack me.” Mrs. Sahir replied sadly. She clenches her fists.

“But I’m sick of being afraid! I’m ready to take control of my life.” Mrs. Sahir replied angrily.

And in that moment, Nicky realize it’s time for her to do the same.

That night, Nicky returned to Chris’s house to find him watching the stars through a telescope. The stars above look like small crystals, the moon like a beacon. Yet, somehow, Chris out shines it all.

“You... look like you have a lot on your mind. Anything I can do to help?” Nicky answered.

Chris whips around at the sound of her voice.

“Nicky!” Chris yelled. “ I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

“Yeah, well. That makes two of us.” Nicky replied.

“What changed?” Chris answered.

“Nothing. Everything.” Nicky answered. “Chris, I ...”

But her words fail her.

Nicky takes his face in her hands and kiss him. He stiffens in surprise....

“Nicky!” Chris answered.

...then kisses up her back passionately, clutching her to him as though her never wants to let her go.

“Nicky...” Chris answered blushing.

“Mmmm...”Nicky replied.

She wind her arms around his neck, parting her lips to admit his questing tongue.

“I’m taking control of my life. And I know I want Chris to be part of it.”

He holds Nicky close, and she feels as though she could conquer the world. But then he steps away, his blue eyes pained.

“You should go.” Chris replied sadly.

“...why?” Nicky answered.

“Isn’t it obvious, Nicky?” Chris answered.

He lets out a long sigh.

“You know what I am, Nicky. What I’ve done. What I’ll continue to do.” Chris replied sadly. “I’m... I’m a monster.”

Something in her heart feels like it breaks as he says that.

“Chris... you’re not a monster.”Nicky replied.

“Hah.” Chris replied.

His smile is bitter, but she shakes her head.

“You’re not. And I mean that.” Nicky answered. “I’m not going to stand here and tell you what you did was okay because it wasn’t. But I understand. And I forgive you.”

Nicky cups his cheek, looking deeply into his eyes.

“You mean so much to me, Chris.” Nicky replied. “I know that makes no sense because I just met you, but I’ve never felt this way before. It’s new, and it’s terrifying, and I don’t know which way is up anymore, but...I do know I’d regret it forever if I let you go. So I forgive you. Chris. I forgive you completely.”

He swallows hard, averting his eyes.

“And Adrian? Do you for him, too?” Chris answered. “ I preyed on you, just as he preyed on Clare and Denise.”

“Chris, you’re nothing like your brother!” Nicky answered.

“I’m exactly like him, Nicky. Right down to our DNA.” Chris answered sadly.

“Chris, that’s ... silly. Our actions make us who we are, not our genetics. You’re not like Adrian, Chris. You’re not even close, and I’m pretty sure you know it. I think what you may actually be struggling with is a fear of emotional vulnerability.” Nicky replied.

Chris laughs.

“Ever the therapist.” Chris replied.

“You have to admit you kind of need one.” Nicky replied with a smirk.

“You have no idea.” Chris replied with a smile.

Then, he pulls her into his arms, kissing her as though his life depends on it. But when she reaches to undo his belt, he stops her.

“We can’t. Nicky.” Chris answered.

“It sort of... feels like we can.” Nicky replied.

He steps away, putting some distance between his erection and her misbehaving hands.

“Not in the physical world. It’s would be too dangerous for you.” Chris replied. “It’s too easy to lose control at the moment of climax. To take too much.”

“Chris...I trust you.” Nicky answered.

“But I don’t trust myself.” Chris replied.

Disappointed though she is, she can understand his concern.

“What do you propose, then?” Nicky replied.

“Perhaps you should take control.” Chris replied.

With a smile that makes her shiver, he takes her hand and leads her into one of the bedrooms. He lays her on the bed and draws her down into sleep.

**somewhat dream sequence **

Nicky awakes nude in a familiar study.

“No fair.” Nicky answered.

Chris grins wickedly.

“Maybe I need to be taught some manners. What do you think, doctor?” Chris answered.

“Get on the couch.” Nicky answered.

“You didn’t say “please” Chris replied.

Nicky seized his chin on her hand.

“And I won’t.” Nicky answered.

“Yes, Doctor.” Chris replied.

He stretches out, grinning as she straddles his hips. He reaches out for her, but she swats his hands away.

“No. Hands behind your head.” Nicky replied.

He obeys, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh, Dr. Ransom, what do you have in mind?” Chris replied.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to speak, Mr. Evans.” Nicky answered.

She catches his lower lip between her teeth, and he groans. She trails her hands lovingly down his body.

“Ahh...” Chris yelled.

Nicky giggles, pressing wet kisses down his abdomen. Chris draws in a sharp breath as she presses her lips to the head of his cock.

“Let’s see what other sounds I ca get you to make.” Nicky answered with a smirk.

He gasps as she licks a long stripe along the underside of cock...holds his breath as she flicks her tongue against the knot at the base of head...and moans loudly when she’s taken him in her mouth.

“Fuck...” Chris yelled.

She hums around him, her lips sliding wetly up and down his shaft.

“He even tastes good.”

She relaxes her throat, taking him deeper. Soon she feels his fingers in her hair, tugging her away.

“Not if you want this to last much longer.” Chris replied blushing red.

She drags her tongue back up his body and position herself over his hard cock.

“Say “please.” Nicky replied.

“Please.” Chris answered.

But then, Nicky feels a great sadness.

“I want to be with him in real life. I wan to be with him...”

Nicky closes her eyes, imagining that you’re being pulled from the dream.

“Wake up....”

She and Chris groan in unison...and she wakes suddenly with him Inside her.

@denisemarieangelina @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @daliaevans @waywardodysseys @tanyam93 @pine-fresh-kirk @star-spangled-beard-burn @lovinevans @ohmy-captain @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @jtargaryen18 @megan-meg-chrisevanswifey @patzammit @trishevans @branflakes82 @oddsnendsfanfics @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @jms358 @denissjmaddox @littlefiercequeen @mizcaptainphoenix @deidrashouseofpain @bit-of-a-timelord @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @chris-butt @captain-rogers-beard @imanuglywombat @wintrcaptn @shreyaaaaaaaaaaaa @shellbilee @whiskey-cokenfanfic @iamwhoiamtmblr @icanfeelastormbrewing @inamarvelx @gothamlovr91 @captaincrazyexlover @thatgirly81 @thatsxamericasxass @amazonx @nbarnes @captainchrisstan @kelbabyblue @kellyn1604 @katiew1973 @kailyndavillier @donutloverxo @comebackandhauntme21 @nekoannie-chan @wordywarriorwrites

#princeofdreams chrisevansfanfic #chrisevansfanfic

27 notes · View notes

cockbiteproductions · 4 years

Note

multiples of 8, except in the misc section. all even numbers for the misc section

200: My crush’s name is: well well well this question again. you’re not getting anything out of me!!! they fucking use this website!!!

192: I am allergic to: nothing. but i found out like yesterday not everyone gets dermatographia and im kinda annoyed. what do you mean your skin doesnt get red and puffy the moment you touch it......

184: Xbox or ps3: xbox solely because of ah

176: Last YouTube video watched: my watch history says this, which is a scene from a show called billions. this scene in particular is about my favorite character asking about their introduction scene with their former mentor figure that they quickly outranked and asking why they were picked for the internship that lead them down this [entire shitpath].

168: Luck: [long sigh]. [puts on clown makeup].

[obi wan voice] im my experience there’s no such thing as luck.

[rian voice] luck? there’s probability plausibility and actuality. luck is superstition. luck is lazy math. [winston voice] that’s what i always say.

160: Soul mates: again souls arent real..... nor do i believe that people are “meant for each other” on any sort of cosmic/larger level. you are more compatible with people based on your upbringing and your interests and your values and those are adaptable over time though some people are so different that they will never get along and other people match/complement each other incredibly well.

152: Phone or Online: lmaoooo this questionnaire once again showing its age. throwback to when these things weren’t synonymous. online for sure. what am i gonna do with a phone? talk to someone with my fucking voice? i think not.

144: Oranges or Apples: to eat by themselves? probably apples since they are easier and less of a mess. and apples are more consistently better than oranges. oranges, it’s easy to get a batch that just sucks. juiced? probably orange. i love me some fuckin orange juice. but i like apple cider more than orange juice.

136: Hillary or Obama: lmaoooo again.. the age of this. 2008 or 2012. going to guess 2008. obama but not like. enthusiastically. while he was certainly better than [what we got going on now] he still bombed the hell outta some countries......

128: Manicure or Pedicure: ive never had either but i would probably be more comfortable with a manicure. people touching my feet would make me ticklish.

120: Gay Marriage: the only type that should be allowed. sorry straights youre no longer allowed to get married. /s obviously.

112: Facebook: oh BOY are you fucking ready. are you???? im starting the readmore NOW because this is going to be something. i doubt anyone except robots maybe will actually read my deranged pro-privacy anti-facebook/social media/surveillance rant but im angry every time i think about it and if i were a more important person than a rando on the internet with a keyboard im sure facebook would hire someone to kill me one day.

FUCK FACEBOOK. FUCK THAT SHITTY ASS WEBSITE THAT AT EVERY TURN HAS BEEN REVEALED TO HAVE HORRIFYING PRACTICES OF DATA COLLECTION.

but before that, they need to pay some goddamn fucking taxes. they are profiting off the data of billions of people and getting away with paying SO LITTLE back.

you ever hear about deepface? no this is not the beginning of a prequel meme. deepface is facebook’s facial recognition technology and facial recognition is fucking terrifying. that shit is as good as humans at facial recognition at this point. does that not scare you? that a bunch of computers can figure out if this photo contains you or not? it’s one thing if humans recognize each other, but another thing when computers who can process data almost infinitely faster than humans can are able to do it. the scale and speed at which these fucking nightmares operates is hard for us to imagine and so we are all not scared enough of what they can do. this kind of technology is so deeply privacy violating it’s hard for me to stress it enough. every image of you ever uploaded on the internet could possibly be put through facial recognition tech. and with the fact that there are cameras literally everywhere at all times now at this point it’s so fucking possible that if desired, someone could find out where you are at all times. and that gets SO scary when used by governments. are you comfortable with your government knowing where YOU are at all times? yes? what about if tomorrow your government is overthrown by a group of radicals you completely disagree with? you still comfortable with that? facial recognition is kind of a fucking pandoras box that we are opening and now that we have the technology available to us, unless we actively take steps back from it, it WILL eventually/already is being used in malicious, intensely privacy invasive ways.

and everything in that above bullet point goes for ALL DATA COLLECTED ON YOU, EVER. everything you’ve ever said on facebook is probably put through some multi layered neural network fucking robot who is learning how to understand what humans say on your input and also cataloging things about you as a person. it is doing SO MUCH more than reading the exact text of what you are saying and then picking up on keywords. neural networks are an attempt to copy how humans think by making an artificial version of a brain basically. in simple terms it’s a map of points and connections and you feed it data for a while and tell it what the desired outcome should be. it will adjust those connections and the weight of those points based on your data and expected outcome. that change in connections and weights is how it learns. then after a while it has fed on enough data that it will begin to expect what your desired outcome is. now imagine millions and millions of connections and points. it’s fucking huge. you ever hear about how we don’t know how machine learning/deep learning/neural networks works? this is that. it’s because they are so large and they have changed their weights and points so much that we no longer understand how it makes its decisions. ml is on a deeper level starting to understand what you mean when you say words. like a human. and can pick up nuances humans cannot because of its perfect memory. do you understand how scary this is? do you? i really do not know how to express this better how absolutely buckshit wild and terrifying the idea that everything i say online can be scraped and put through a robot and a profile on me and who i am and my ideals can be gathered almost instantly. how hard would it be to write a scraper that goes to my blog and grabs the text of every post in my talk tag? and then there’s free and open source nlp software (or you can pay for it) and you can feed in everything ive said on this blog ever. you can go to my facebook. you can go to my twitter. you can find my profiles on every online platform ive ever used and take everything ive ever said and determine what kind of person i am based on that. and then you can then make further distinctions based on that data. (sidenote: facebook wouldnt have to scrape the data on my profile, it’s all in their databases already. they have everything ive ever posted on public or private, on my old profile i’ve deactivated, every photo ive posted or been tagged in, everything ive ever uploaded to their servers or have been associated with.) and someone or robot can make decisions about me based on that data. it could just be am i likely to buy [this product] or it could be something much more like am i a threat? am i dangerous to you, the person using this data about me? what are my politics? what are my views on [this topic]? are they too extreme? should i be denied [real life thing] based on what this machine has determined about me from my data online? not to sound fucking crazy, but you ever watch that episode of black mirror? nosedive? and its system where you can rate interactions with people? how this one girl was trying to increase her ranking so she would qualify for a cheaper price on housing? how we’re already starting to see things like this in real life with china’s social credit system?

call me a fucking wack job but i think it’s so deeply creepy that we have digitized so many aspects of our lives and leave machines we no longer understand how they make their decisions to analyze every bit of data about ourselves.

by the fucking way facebook tracks data on people WHO DO NOT USE FACEBOOK. FACEBOOK TRACKS DATA ON PEOPLE. WHO. DO. NOT. USE. FACEBOOK. are you scared? i am.

i’ve been thinking about this tweet from @/malwaretech on twitter from a few days ago. text: On a serious note, social media tracking is more extensive than you may think. For example: those Facebook 'like' buttons you see on every website? They call home. If you're logged into your FB account, it records that you visited that web page, even if you don't click 'like'. doesn’t that sound a lil fucked up to anyone else? that facebook knows that i visited that webpage even though i did not tell it? that it will use that data to build a better profile on what my interests are and that it will use that data to better sell ads to me? i’ll be honest i am unsure of if facebook sells that information to other vendors. i think that might be not allowed but i wouldn’t be surprised if that data somehow got into the hands of people who arent facebook.

the fact that for the longest time you could NOT get your data deleted from facebook? that even if you deactivated your account facebook would still keep all of that in their shit ass servers forever? as far as i know, that’s changed now, but i would not at all be surprised if the next day it was revealed that facebook was Actually Keeping all that info anyways

the fact that by default facebook’s privacy settings are set to allow anyone to see most info about you? just this whole opt out culture is so fucking wack. it should be opt in. your privacy settings should default on the MOST PRIVATE and it should be up to you to ACTIVELY SEARCH OUT how to change them to public. it is ON FACEBOOK to actively cultivate privacy but of fucking course they don’t.

lmao cambridge analytica politics russia brexit trump. i don’t have the energy to even open this fucking can of worms but i will say that again, another layer of deeply fucked up that political campaigns can use that data to try to coerce or influence elections.

do you remember when in 2019. yes twenty. fucking. nineteen. 2019. two thousand and nineteen. 2019. i dont know how more to stress how recent but late this is. 2019. facebook admitted that it and instagram were still. STILL. STILL. S T I L L. storing passwords as plaintext? meaning your password that is “password123ilovedogs” is stored AS “password123ilovedogs” in their database. it is STANDARD AND EXPECTED PRACTICE that websites store SECURE hashes of passwords (not like fucking. md5 or something) meaning you do a bunch of fucking “irreversible” math on the password and store that instead of the actual password itself. so the db would be storing “298!79v@w8W#R;3,f9jf” instead of your actual password. anyways face. fucking. book. was storing passwords as plain text. which means if they ever have a data breach on their passwords db then all that data inside will just be your actual goddamn password. your actual goddamn password. what the fuck? what the fuck? and we still use this website? we? me? i use this website daily? i use this website on a daily fucking basis and allow it to continue to collect information on me? im so goddamn angry.

the fact that now in this day and age you are considered weird for not having any social media? super fucked up. the fact that employers will check your social media and if you don’t have one that is somehow a red flag? weird as hell. why must we participate in the world’s largest data collection scandal ever just to be a member of society? i cannot choose to opt out. facebook collects data on me even if i do not have an account. society expects me to have some form of social media and if i do not then that i am the weird one for it. if you choose to live a life of trying not to be tracked it is almost impossible. can you live your life in modern society without an email address? without a smartphone or laptop? there is an expectation that every person is available to communicate with digitally and if you find the practice of data collection abhorrent and don’t want to use websites that do so, then you’re the weird one who has a LOT of society’s services unavailable to you.

im not going to even touch on the psychological effects that facebook and social media have on people other than to ONCE AGAIN, say they are very real and deeply fucked up.

by the way check out haveibeenpwned. enter your email and it’ll check against databases to see if your email has been on recent dumps. i have been. lately there have been a few older accounts of mine that have been breached and it’s terrifying.

fuck jesse eisenberg man he fucked over spiderman crazy

fuck faang. fuck big tech. fuck data collection. btw edward snowden is a hero. fuck all of this.

104: The future: man we’re in for it. i am not optimistic about it at all. too much tech progression / not enough foresight / expansion/globalization of the world / global warming / political and economic issues are all coming to a head to make the world a fucking disaster.

96: Changed a diaper: never done it! i am not around children often.

88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: having a vague idea of where things are locally. im very bad with directions.

86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: answered already.

84: People call me: yeesa, apparently. i have a fair amount of nicknames but i just call myself teresa.

82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: sure haven’t though i deserve one

80: The first person i talked to today was: soph because she wakes up at a normal goddamn time so i’ll sometimes have a text from her from a few hrs ago

76: Right now I am talking to: milo and a discord server im in for a group of friends i made when i was applying to college. though i havent responded in quite a while since i went on my angry facebook rant.

74: I have/will get a job: well i HAD a job for the beginning of the summer when i was a TA but i do not any more as that was first summer semester only. hopefully in the fall i’ll have a job as a TA again but who knows. and then after that when i graduate i hope hope hope hope hope i will have a job lined up.

72: Today: woke up. made a plum smoothie. played minecraft. took a nap. here i am. it’s all very riveting.

70: Next Weekend: it’ll happen for sure. odds are i will be waking up and eating food and coming on the internet and chatting with friends and doing a bit of writing and trying to learn a bit more html.

68: The worst sound in the world: answered already.

66: People that make you happy: will roland lmao.

64: My friends are: well it’s basically the same people i tagged in my last post on people who make me happy.

62: My School: you tryin to doxx me? it’s alright. not the best for my major. and also stupidly trying to reopen for the fall because theyre greedy and idiots. it was like my 5th choice school but it is what it is.....

60: I lose all respect for people who: already answered

58: Your hair color is: black as fuck. im east asian.

56: Favorite web site: controversial but archive of our own dot org i guess. i believe in their mission and like how they have advocated for fans and have created a fan-owned space on the internet. they’re not perfect but i overall support them.

54: The worst pain I was ever in was: answered already

52: My room is: a time capsule of what i liked in late middle school/early high school.

50: Where would you like to be: im fine where i am. maybe visiting friends though. i would like to Hang With Them and Do Fun Activities.

48: Ever been in love: who’s to say....... what is love? (baby don’t hurt me). but for real the concept of love is weird to me, especially romantic love. i don’t know. i’ve certainly obsessed over people. i’ve noticed i kind of “pick people” to have crushes on. i can’t really say why. but then it creates a feedback loop of i pay more attention to them -> i think more about them -> i like them more. so i’ve made conscious decisions that have lead to me obsessing over people.

46: More guy friends or girl friends: girl but that’s just because people in fandom spaces tend to be women and most of my friends ive made through fandom.

44: One person that you wish you could see right now: kaity is coming to my town but we cant see each other because of a pandemic so im kinda fucking miffed about that. i didn’t get to see maria before she left my state so i’m also miffed about that.

42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: lmaooooo no. i would just like to be satisfied with my life. would like to see friends. do fun things with them.

40: Last person I got mad at: idk im not generally a mad person. mark zuckerberg probably.

38: I wish I was a professional: as in i suddenly have all the skills and talent needed to be a professional? i think a director &|| writer tbh. i would love to have the Creative Vision necessary to come up with dope ideas AND translate what i have in mind into real life. i would love the ability to be able to tell compelling stories that mean a lot to people.

32: Athlete: lmao if it was 2008 or 2012 i would ahve said ryan lochte but nevermind. idk. maybe katie ledecky.

24: Movie: am not much one for movies...... star trek 2009.

16: Book: i don’t know how to read.

8: Yankee candle scent: idk about yankee candle specifically but i love the smell of apple.

#not rt #teresa answers stuff #Anonymous

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santiagoswagger · 5 years

Text

we were wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart

Flower shop AU | My contribution to @b99fandomevents 2019 Summer Fic Exchange, for the lovely @benwvatt!

Amy has always been a planner.

She received her first calendar when she was six years-old to keep track of her extracurricular activities, and her scheduling addiction arrived soon after. She needed organization to feel sane, normal, like her whole world wouldn’t crumble beneath her feet. Growing up in a house full of rowdy brothers, and now working in a job that is more unpredictable than not, the only thing she’s ever felt any semblance of control over is her calendar.

But as she furiously clicks through page after page on Yelp in a haze of escalating panic, Amy curses her calendar for the very first time in her life.

She forgot about Mother’s Day.

It’s not a total surprise, she supposes. She’d spent the last two weeks working to solve a high-profile kidnapping and there hadn’t been any room in her life for restful sleep or food that didn’t come from a vending machine, let alone time to buy her extraordinarily picky mother the perfect Mother’s Day present.

It wasn’t until David (stupid David!) sent a reminder in the Santiago siblings’ text chain that Amy realized what a colossal mistake she had made in forgetting about the annual Santiago Mother’s Day brunch. Her heart began to palpitate faster than it did that time in college when she consumed an entire pot of coffee the night before her calculus final. That hadn’t ended well at all, but Amy refuses to let this day be a complete disaster. Not showing up to her parents’ house empty-handed is a good place to start.

Now, an hour after receiving David’s text, she’s frantically trying to find an acceptably rated flower shop somewhere in Brooklyn that is both open and taking new orders on such a busy day for the industry. Calls to three had so far dashed all of Amy’s hopes and dreams of one day seeing her photo proudly displayed on the family mantel, knocking David’s out of its place of honor.

She continues to scroll through Yelp until her cursor lands on one called Rachel’s Flowers with a promising four-star rating. Amy painstakingly scans through each review and the only negative one she can find is from a woman who two years previously said the cashier was “annoying beyond belief.”

Glancing at the clock, Amy decides she would take a chatty cashier over a withering glare from Camila Santiago any day. Running out of time, she foregoes calling ahead and hopes that Rachel is the florist of her dreams.

The shop is on a quaint, quiet block in Amy’s precinct. ‘Rachel’s Flowers’ is written in neat, green cursive above the brick facade. Its old-school charm is in sharp contrast to the hipster record store and vegan restaurant it’s sandwiched between, and Amy immediately loves it for its simplicity. Standing here is like stepping back in time. She wonders why she’s never come across it before, even in her days as a beat cop.

She parks her car across the street and walks in, practically running into the line of last-minute shoppers, so long it’s practically out the door. Amy feels her blood pressure spike on the spot.

She walks quickly around the showroom to assess the ready-made bouquets so she can make a quick exit. They’re mostly made up of multi-colored carnations or pink roses, and they’re so beautifully arranged, but Amy can just picture her mother’s face if she were to gift her with any of these. Amy’s grandmother loved gardenias and white hydrangeas, a love Camila inherited; vases of them were always scattered around the Santiago home when Amy was growing up. Bringing her mother any other kind of flower won’t have the desired effect Amy’s going for.

She waits in line for almost fifteen minutes, tapping her low heels on the ground with every passing second. Being late to brunch would almost be worse than showing up empty-handed, in Amy’s opinion.

When Amy finally reaches the front of the line, she is greeted by a man she assumes is the chatty cashier from the Yelp review she read earlier. He’s handsome, with kind-looking eyes and a cute, lopsided grin, but his wrinkled flannel and sloppy curls don’t instill much confidence in her.

“What can I do for you?” he smiles, big and warm.

“I’m looking for a bouquet for my mom,” she says, trying valiantly to keep her growing anxiety at bay. “She’s really difficult to shop for. Do you have any white hydrangeas and gardenias?”

“No, I’m sorry, we used most of our supply for custom orders. What you see out here is pretty much what we have left.” He just keeps smiling. Amy wants nothing more than to wipe the stupid smirk off his face.

“You don’t have anything else in the back?” she asks desperately.

“Sorry, it’s a busy day.” To his credit, he looks apologetic. She can see the sympathy swimming in his eyes. Unfortunately for him, Santiagos never admit defeat.

“Can I please speak with your manager or the florist?” she asks politely.

He has the nerve to laugh. “Uh, I’m both.”

Amy fights the urge to do a double-take. Her finely-honed observational skills spot a large, mysterious red stain on the sleeve of his flannel and she’s fairly certain he’s responsible for the Carly Rae Jepsen songs pumping through the shop’s speakers. How could this man be the one responsible for the delicate flower arrangements by the door?

Amy sighs deeply. “Look, I know this is probably one of the worst days of the year for you, but I forgot it was Mother’s Day and I don’t want my picture to move any further from the mantel than it already is. Can you please help me out and put something together that will at least moderately impress my picky and terrifying mother? I’m willing to pay whatever.”

He looks thoughtful for a moment, crossing his arms and bringing his pointer finger up to stroke his chin. Amy figures he’s probably trying to figure out what she meant about the family mantel.

“Do 100 jumping jacks.”

She’s completely caught off-guard. “Excuse me?”

“You said you would pay whatever,” he smirks, looking entirely too proud of himself.

She squints at his name tag, pinned to the collar of his haphazard shirt. “Look, Jake, I’m really not in the mood today.” She rummages through her bag to find her phone and look for another flower shop nearby. She’ll take a bouquet from a bodega at this point.

In the chaos, her badge flies out and lands face-up on the cashier’s desk. Amy sees Jake’s eyes widen, and she can’t help but feel slightly vindicated.

“You’re a cop?” he asks.

“I am,” she says carefully. She can’t tell if he’s afraid or if another snarky comment is headed her way.

“That’s so cool,” he says reverently, picking up her badge to inspect it with the utmost care. “I always wanted to be a cop.”

Amy eyebrow lifts involuntarily. It’s hard for her to imagine this goofy, messy-haired man as one of New York’s finest, but she can tell he’s being genuine by the pure excitement emanating from every part of him.

“It’s a pretty cool job,” she smiles as she takes it back from him.

“What’s your favorite cop movie? It’s Die Hard, right? It has to be Die Hard!” His flailing hands punctuate every word. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen someone so worked up about Bruce Willis.

“It’s Training Day, actually, but I suppose you’re entitled to your wrong opinion.” She’s not sure why she’s bantering with the florist, but there’s something so undeniably charming about him.

“Denzel wishes,” he scoffs. Amy laughs, earning a surprised smile from Jake.

He takes a second to look around the shop. There are a few stragglers milling around but it’s fairly empty.

“What’s your name?” he asks as he turns back to her.

“Amy,” she says, confused.

He grins brightly. “Well, Amy, it looks like we’re in a bit of a lull. Let me take a look in the back and see what I can do for you.”

Relief hits her like a swift punch to the stomach. “Thank you so much, Jake.”

He nods, beaming, and heads to the back room.

Amy takes the opportunity to look around now that the panic has died down somewhat. The black-and-white tile floor is covered in just enough scuffs to let Amy know it’s seen some things, as does the chipped green paint on the walls. The bouquets are so thoughtfully arranged and she can tell they were made with such care. Amy briefly wonders how a guy like Jake ended up here.

“Aha!” she hears him exclaim from the back.

Amy turns around as he walks back into the shop, sneakers squeaking against the tile as he brandishes a beautiful bouquet over his head.

She hurries over to take a closer look. Jake had grouped gardenias and hydrangeas together in a clear, modern vase, and he had tied the whole thing together with a single silver ribbon. It’s simple and elegant, and very Camila Santiago.

“They’re beautiful,” she breathes. “I thought you didn’t have any gardenias and hydrangeas left?”

He moves to scratch the back of his neck. Amy swears she sees a hint of a blush spread across his cheeks but she quickly writes it off as a trick of the light. “I managed to find some leftover gardenias and then I remembered that this custom order of white hydrangeas was never picked up yesterday, so I just, you know, threw it together for you.”

Amy has a sneaking feeling that he isn’t telling her the whole truth, but she appreciates it nonetheless.

“Thank you, Jake,” she says genuinely. “You’re a lifesaver. My mom will love these.”

“Eh, it’s no problem,” he says. “You just owe me a huge favor now.”

She barks out a laugh. “You’ve got it.”

As he rings her up, Amy can’t help herself. “How did you become a florist? You wanted to be a cop, right?”

He chuckles. “I was in the academy when my nana got sick. This was her shop. I used to come here every day after school to help her with orders and I got pretty good at it. When she passed away, I couldn’t let them sell it, so I just kind of stayed and kept it running.”

He shrugs it off. Amy is dumbfounded.

“That’s really incredible, Jake.”

“Surprisingly, being good with flowers does not help with the ladies,” he jokes, handing over her receipt.

She takes it with a small smile. “Maybe it will one day.”

He smiles softly back at her. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Thanks again, Jake.”

“No problem, Amy. I hope your thing with the mantel works out, whatever that is.”

He waves as she walks out the door and she feels her stomach bottom out. Well, that’s new.

Brunch goes better than Amy could have hoped. Camila doesn’t say much, but she purses her lips and places them on top of the grand piano in the living room - prime real estate in the Santiago household, even if no one in the family plays piano. Amy’s photo moves one spot closer to the center of the mantel.

She knows she owes most of her success to Jake, so when she gets home she decides to thank him in the most sincere way she knows: a handwritten note. She pulls out the floral stationary she had custom-made with her new title when she made detective at the Nine-Nine and gets to writing.

Jake,

Thank you for all of your help today. My mom loved the flowers, and I owe it all to you. You really saved me. John McClane has nothing on you.

Amy

She reads it over and over until she decides to have mercy on herself and shoves it in the outgoing mail slot before she can drive herself any crazier.

A few days go by and Amy’s nearly forgotten about the note when a man walks into the precinct holding a giant bouquet of red tulips. The splash of color isn’t something one tends to see in a Brooklyn police precinct, so he catches almost everyone’s eye right away - except Amy’s.

She’s nearing the end of a large stack of paperwork, which she’s determined to get through before the morning briefing. She sees feet moving towards her out of the corner of her eye but she doesn’t think much of it until she hears someone clear their throat.

It’s Jake, the florist.

“Hi,” he says, clearing his throat again. This time, she can detect his nerves.

“Hi,” she says, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles easily. “I got your note. Very nice touch, by the way. I’m here to, uh, ask you to dinner.”

She raises her eyebrows, caught off-guard.

He quickly deflates. “You have a boyfriend, don’t you? I knew it. I’m so sorry, Amy. I won’t bother you again.”

It’s this grace in the face of defeat that makes Amy’s heart swell with sudden affection. He’s a complete stranger, but she instinctively knows he’s someone she can trust. “Jake, I’d love to go to dinner with you.”

He smiles slowly. “You would? You’re single? Really?”

She nods, grinning. “Yes, really.”

The tips of his ears turn bright pink. “Okay, great. When should I pick you up?”

Amy grabs a neon post-it note and scribbles her phone number and address. “Seven?” she asks, handing it back to him.

He takes it, looking somewhat dazed, like he can’t quite believe his good luck. He gently sets the tulips down on her desk, careful not to disrupt her files. “Seven, it is. I’ll see you later, Amy.”

“Bye, Jake,” she says, waving shyly as he heads for the elevator.

Once he’s gone and she’s able to pull herself back down to earth, she steals a glance at the bouquet he’d brought her. The tulips are vibrant and beautiful, and full of promise.

Later, when she kisses him for the first time, she takes in the floral scent that seems to follow him around and it feels like home.

#b99 2019 summer fic exchange #b99fandomevents #jake x amy #b99 fic #peraltiago #peraltiago fic #b99 #brooklyn nine nine #i love writing AUs so much ahhh!

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probably-writing-x · 5 years

Text

One

~Shawn Mendes~

~Based on One by Lewis Capaldi~

There wouldn't ever come a day where Shawn could no longer remember the exact events of that night. Where he wouldn't remember the feeling of complete and utter heartbreak that swarmed the apartment and made it impossible for him to not feel it too. Where he wouldn't wish he could take it all back.

~~~Two Years Earlier~~~

The call sounded from his phone, cutting out the song and flashing your photo onto the dark screen - it was a picture of you and him in London when he'd been on tour there.

"Hello love!" Shawn picks up instantly, speaking through his headphones as he walks to flop down on the couch in his lounge, looking out at the Toronto skyline where he generally focused on the sight of your apartment just about in view, "Are you still alright to come over tomorrow? I've got a new little song and I need my best opinion,"

"Shawn," Your voice was nothing above a whisper on the other end and part of him thought he'd imagined it.

But the tug on his heart told him he'd dreamt nothing of the sort.

"(Y/n)?" Shawn jolts up to sit up on the couch, preparing himself for the worst that was yet to come, "Honey, are you okay?"

"Can you come over?" Your words are shaking just as much as your entire body, "I just, I need-"

"I'm on my way, don't come off the phone okay?" Shawn jumps up and grabs his keys, tugging on whatever shoes were closest before making the sprint across the city streets to reach your place.

He makes it there in record time which, on any other day, he would make a point of being proud of. Today, he feared all possible worsts.

"(Y/n)?" Shawn's banging on the door enough to confirm that he would be more than willing to knock it down, "Honey, are you in there?"

Silently and with all levels of no energy, your hands move to unlock the front door, opening the barrier so that the only thing between you and your best friend was the thick tension of his fear.

The sight is one he promised himself he would never let the world witness. You're dressed in all typical signs of your normal self but your face is completely different. Your cheeks are stained with oceanic tears and your eyes have become red and puffy in their attempts to prevent further crying. Your bottom lip trembles and your hair is disheveled - you'd had your hands through it.

"He ended it," You manage to squeak out, hands shaking as you do.

Shawn's jaw clenches as he prevents himself from asking a million questions about those simple three words. Instead, his arms enclose your figure and he squeezes enough to let out the next batch of crisp tears, each of them soaking into the grey of his hoodie.

You're trembling against his torso and he's holding you like you'll crumble against him if he even attempts to loosen his grip.

"I've lost him Shawn. I've lost him, I've lost everything," You're truly sobbing now, letting out all of the words that had been tracking through your mind ever since Joe broke the news, "What did I do wrong?"

That's enough for Shawn to cancel all of your self-blame plans, "Hey," He snaps, pulling you away from him to make sure he looks you in the eyes as he says it, "Don't you dare say that. Whatever decision Joe made, you couldn't have done anymore,"

You try your best to nod in agreeance but find yourself crying even more, head dropping back against Shawn's shoulder as you do so.

You're not sure how long the two of you stay like that before Shawn guides you over to the couch, never once letting his hands loosen from around their support on you.

He stayed like that for the whole night, letting you tell the story of what had happened with you and Joe in your own broken pieces - pieces split with crying or cracked words or trembling lips. He lets you blame yourself until your done and then spends time telling you exactly how wrong you were.

In fact, Shawn stayed like that at your place for the next unnumbered days. He clears away the dying flowers that Joe had bought you before he left and he replays the story over in his head again and again.

You and Joe had been together for over a year now - opting to move in together to Joe's place only a few months ago. You were head over heels for the boy! He was currently working his way up the ladder of his family company and had recently left for New York to try to get the next promotion. Your flight to see him was already booked. Until the out of the blue call came telling you he'd been having second thoughts. And, just like that, he dropped you.

How on earth could someone do that to anyone?! Let alone the girl Shawn thought the world of. Joe had the dream relationship and he'd let it all go to waste. He'd let you completely go to waste.

~~~Present Day~~~

It took a long while for Shawn to see you brighten with your colours once again. For a long time, they'd been completely bled from you thanks to the shattering heartbreak Joe left you with. But, in a slow process, Shawn was there to watch you build yourself back up. He helped you move out of the apartment and into one in the same block as his. He waited outside when Joe came home as he felt gut wrenchingly terrified that he'd have to see you at your lowest once again after that. He stayed through the countless times that you cried and the times you got yourself so worked up that you made yourself ill.

And here he was.

In your own time, you'd learnt that your heart loved Shawn. For every one of his quirks, you completely loved him. And, boy, was that scary! He knew it too but he'd still let you take little shuffles before the big jump.

"Babe, I'm losing you," You wave your hand in front of his face until Shawn snaps out of his daze.

"Oh, sorry, honey," He shakes his head, looking at you with a light smile.

You chuckle and lift his arm so he could wrap it around you, "What on Earth were you thinking about?"

Shawn takes a breath, "You."

You look up at him and cock a brow, "Me?"

He hums in response and presses a soft kiss to your lips, "Just how lucky I am,"

You blush and kiss him again like it's the only thing you know how to do.

"What do you fancy for dinner tonight?" You ask him, hand settling on his chest.

"It's your choice, darling," He shrugs, reaching over to his phone and pressing shuffle on his playlist.

"Ooh, I'm gonna go with takeaway," You wiggle your brows, jumping up from the couch.

Shawn makes a noise of protest about the fact you were leaving him again.

"Sorry, babe, but the menus are calling me," You laugh, shaking your hips as an upbeat song blasts through the apartment.

Shawn tucks an arm atop his head and watches you move with the shadows of a smile between his cheeks.

Joe had told you that you weren't enough for him. That your love wasn't enough. He was looking for some sort of perfect despite having it stood right next to him. God, that guy must be fucking hard to please! He had his mind on his career and you were supposedly a burden to that progression. Shawn had learnt how to work with both. He picked up the pieces of your heart and loved you unconditionally whilst still continuing his career - he brought you along for every success and every failure. That's how it should be.

Your boyfriend is only snapped back into reality again this time by the change in song as one that always reminded you of Joe begins to play through the speakers. He winces and goes to change it quickly.

"No, no, it's okay Shawn," You shake your head, "You like this one,"

"I used to," He points out, standing up from the sofa and walking over to you, "You don't like it,"

You shrug your shoulders, "It was a long time ago. And I've got you, and god that's more than I could ask for,"

Your boyfriend smiles delicately and wraps his arms around your waist, finally settling them on your hips as he pulls back.

"I wish I could thank that guy, you know," Shawn admits, evidently a thought that had been ticking through in his mind.

"I'm sorry?" You ask in bewilderment.

"He broke your heart. He made all of these mistakes and put you through all of this pain and, because of that, he let the most phenomenal woman I know get away," Shawn explains, "And he let her fall in love with me,"

"Somebody else's loss is another's gain, huh?" You raise your brows.

Shawn chuckles softly and kisses you again, "Exactly, love,"

"Okay, so I fancy pizza but the best place doesn't deliver s-"

"So I'll go pick it up. The usual?" He cuts in, already moving to put on his jacket and shoes.

"You read my mind," You grin, realising this song no longer had an effect on you anymore. Joe was, thankfully, a distant memory now.

"I'll be back in a bit babe, love you," Shawn says quickly, kissing you before he leaves.

He made it a tradition to do just that - everytime he left he always kissed you and told you he loved you. Always.

~~~

The night air was crisp in Toronto as Shawn power walked the journey to the nearby pizza place you two always said did the best pizzas in the city. He diverted past where the two of you had your first date and even walked the crossing near the diner he'd taken you to at 3am when you couldn't sleep from how much you'd been crying.

The waft of italian herbs triggered his senses as he stepped into the old door of the fast food restaurant and walked to the counter to order your food.

"Shawn,"

Part of him prayed it was a fan who'd spotted him. The rest of him knew that voice exactly.

"Joe," Shawn turns on his heel to look at the face that utterly enraged him.

"How... How is she?"

"Come on man," Shawn sighs deeply, "It's been long enough,"

"Just tell me," Joe snaps.

The bags under his eyes were evident and he looked as though his shoulders would fall if they dropped any lower.

"Actually, she's doing great, man," Shawn nods with glimmers of pride flashing in his words, "Because, you see, you thought you'd broken her. You heard her crying and you saw her pleading with you and you knew you were the one that caused that heart to break. You knew you were the one who broke that beautiful, kind, incredible heart,"

"Don't do this to me, man," Joe croaks, scratching at the back of his neck.

"No, no, I'm actually going to thank you," Shawn states, holding out a hand.

He waits until Joe's hand clasps his before he continues.

"Because you're paying the price for what you did to her," Shawn explains, "So, thank you for letting me take your place. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to save her soul. And thank you for letting me have the chance to be everything you could never, ever be."

He grips Joe's hand a little too firmly before turning away to take your order of pizza and leaving as though he'd never been there.

~~~

"That was quick!" You grin as soon as Shawn walks in.

He instantly sets the pizzas on the table and grabs your hand before you can turn round to get them.

"Wh-"

He silences your questioning with a firm kiss, one where his hands cup your cheeks and he is solely focused on this being one of those kisses you remember.

"What was that for?" You chuckle a little breathlessly.

Shawn smiles lightly, his forehead resting on yours as he speaks, "Just needed to kiss you,"

~~~

(this is probably one of my favourite things I've written so please let me know what you think x)

Tags: @imarypayne @sunshine112 @bringmethehorizonandpizza @supernatural-girl97 @vibhati123 @butithasntkilledyouyet @faefictions @carisi-sonny @trap-house-homiecide @spiderrpcrker @tommydaspidey @oneblckcoffee @darlingtholland @fanficparker @xxtomxo @httpfandxms

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mvsicbookfrxndom · 5 years

Text

I’m back

Okay lovely people, especially the soccer fandom that has stayed with me...

Before I even say a single word, I need to address this. My inbox currently contains 99+ messages. Yes, you heard that right. So if I have not responded to your message in literally months, that is the reason. I deeply, deeply apologize, and I want to stress that I will try to make time for everything and maximize my time management skills in the future. I have detailed the other reasons for my disappearance below as well.

Now that finals are almost over and I have adjusted more to my new school, I am able to pay more attention and put more effort into my account. These past few months I haven’t been on tumblr at all, and lately I’ve only been liking posts instead of reblogging them or even *gasp* creating my own posts. But I have arisen out of the ashes like a phoenix to say that I will now try to put as much effort into maintaining this blog as I can! I am determined to make it work and balance out my schoolwork, extracurriculars, and social media accounts!

To give you all a glimpse into my life and my responsibilities...

I go to a VERY difficult school with a ton of schoolwork.

I spend most of my time after school participating in a variety of extracurriculars.

It’s a residential school, and the WiFi goes off at 11:30...and I don’t have a hotspot.

Did I mention the workload??!

Not only that! I have other social medias that need maintaining as well.

Facebook (for school)

Instagram (basically to keep up with soccer & Habesha cultural stuff)

Snapchat (to keep up with news of people in my school)

This account (for obvious reasons)

Wattpad (I’ve barely logged on in so long)

Reddit (I LOVE REDDIT OKAY)

Quora (gotta help people get them answers amirite)

Quotev (which is hella dead)

Pinterest (gotta look at them pics)

Imgur (refer to parentheses above)

AO3 (which is basically dead because I haven’t found time to write fanfiction AT ALL)

A fucking DEAD Discord account that to be fair I never use anymore

etc.

My typical day looks like this:

Wake up, go to school, etc.

Call my mother for at least 15 minutes a day. If my sister is able to call me, that’s basically an hour out of my schedule right there.

Finish homework due the next day.

Check texts to see if my parents/in person friends have texted me.

Check Facebook and Messenger to stay in touch with school things.

Watch Snapchat and Instagram stories for the latest topical news.

Usually, by the time all that has been finished, it is already 11:30 and my time is completely gone. It makes me so mad.

After doing all that, I start working on homework due the next day. The grind pretty much never stops. I’m pretty sure it will only stop after finals, and even then only temporarily. However, I am so willing to grind my ass off in order to reclaim my life.

I’m so profoundly upset and saddened by the number of online friends I have lost due to the mental, physical, and psychological stresses that have been put on me ever since I entered school. They think the reason I have disappeared is because I don’t care about them, but that is not it at all whatsoever. I love them far more than I could ever love myself. My love for them is so deep and I wish I could cut out my heart from my chest so they could see it bleed for them. I hope they know who they are as they read this, if they read this. It has been such a difficult adjustment in my life for me that I’ve basically cut off all ties just so I can stay successful. My grades have been slipping and I’m so terrified that I won’t be able to pay for my college education because I can’t get scholarships with Bs on my transcript because of the astronomical amount of competition. In general, I’m just...really scared.

My mental health has severely deteriorated ever since an incident occurred to me over the summer, close after the end of school. I think that is why the World Cup and soccer had such an effect on me - I was so lost, and needed something in my life that would make me happy and make life worth living again, and that was soccer, right there in its beautiful glory for me to fall in love with and feel love again. However, I am determined not to let the darkness win. I HAVE to fight back. It is the only way I can reclaim everything I have lost.

Here are my goals for the future. I want to share them with you all. So that they’re out there in the world and I have no choice but to commit.

Finish ALL my homework and STUDY.

Start a YouTube channel containing my song covers.

I put these in bullet points because these are running goals, so they’re in progress.

Send my sister all of her photos. I’m an asshole for making her wait this long. I’m an asshole for making all of you wait this long.

Respond to all 99+ inbox messages I’ve received. (I’m so sorry, all of you. I will reply, I swear. Just give me time. I know you already have.)

Respond to all my Wattpad messages.

Respond to all my emails on all of my accounts and clean up all of my email accounts, especially when it comes to writing emails to my business card people plaguing my phone!

Organize all of my photos and upload them to either my Drive or Google Photos so I can blissfully mass delete them and gain a sense of purpose, fulfillment, and indescribable joy.

Eliminate all of the open incognito tabs on my phone.

Organize both of my Google Drives, especially their folders and individual docs.

Clean up my Spotify ffs!!!

Finish my Very Long Fanfic Project.

Write other fanfics that I’ve been planning to write for such a long time, before I either lose inspiration or forget about them altogether. Making sure they are oneshots and not Very Long Fanfic Projects so they’ll, like, actually get written finished.

Reorganize and revolutionize my tumblr page so it is more clean with better tags. Also maybe change its HTML/CSS up so it’s more lit.

Fix all of my old Wattpad accounts, the ones that weren’t my main account. I feel like some people were counting on those.

Finish all of my old fanfics. Every single one that I started and never quite completed (on AO3 AND Wattpad).

Resurrect my Quora, Quotev, and Reddit accounts from the internet grave. They are pretty much my ultimate failed experiments.

Begin doing research on internships, colleges, and career choices, as well as interests and hobbies or stuff you’d like to learn how to do.

Start writing my own original works - including, but not limited to - books, short stories, poems, songs, raps, editorial articles, essays, and film scripts.

Finish Mr. Robot, Hannibal, and Sherlock.

Watch SKAM Austin.

Start watching movies.

As you can see, this is a very long ass list. I know it will take a long time. I know it will not be easy. But sometimes, writing things down and realizing how difficult they will be to accomplish is the first step in actually fixing them. I hope I can.

thanks for coming to my ted talk everyone. please dm me if you have any questions with what i said above. i love you all.

#original post #lists

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erlenmeyertrash · 6 years

Text

Doorways, Part Three

yikes get prepared to do some reading y’all i’m surprised at myself lmao

hope you like it!!

tagged: @countessmissyshort

(word count: 2714 | pairings: none | cw: self-deprecation)

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

Virgil slowly shut his door until it latched- don’t slam it, don’t upset Patton any more than you just did, you idiot- and sighed deeply, leaning against it for a moment before heading over to his bed and tiredly clambering in. Thomas’ emotional state was significantly better- dark mood beaten out for now- but Virgil’s was spiraling downward pretty quickly. The realization that he had a bad mood- that he was the one of the four that harbored most bad moods- only made it worse.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, eyes glassing over. In his own mind, he felt like he was digging through a treacherous landscape, batting away at the thickening fog he could feel rather than see and ripping his feet from the sticky swamp below. Icy tendrils tried to wrap around his wrists and ankles, but he sluggishly worked his way through the dreary dampness, feebly trying to evade his-

-...evade his purpose.

Virgil had told Thomas he hated working hard, and he meant it. Dealing with all that negativity all the time was exhausting. He had to do it whether he wanted to or not- whether he could or not. It wasn’t like any of the others could ever do it, though- Patton could handle some of the emotion, but would eventually revert back to his much better happy-go-lucky self. Roman could, maybe, but he’d tire out too quickly and race back to his own realm of wonder and adventure. Virgil wouldn’t have blamed them, either. Who wouldn’t leave this mess if they had the change? Who would possibly want to-

Stop that. He shook his head quickly, attempting to dispel those thoughts, internally ripping himself away and stumbling backward. He just needed to calm down and not let Thomas feel any of this. He just needed to beat this down and hope it would eventually grow tired and leave on its own accord, successfully suppressed.

It wouldn’t happen, though- he knew that. It was pervasive, and insistent, and exhausting, and-

A knock at the door shook him from his thoughts and he peered at it, puzzled. A glance at the clock (the one on his desk that told him the actual time- not the one spinning wildly on the wall) told him quite a bit of time had passed since breakfast.

“...Come in?” he called, sitting up slightly. The handle turned and in came Logan, peering around momentarily before stepping in. Virgil frowned.

“Logan?” It wasn’t like the logical side to come to his room- or, well, anybody’s.

“Hello, Virgil. I wanted to talk with you.”

Virgil swallowed. “Listen, if this is about breakfast, I’m sorry- I just-”

Logan shook his head and moved to sit in the desk chair. “It is about breakfast, but I’m not necessarily here requesting an apology.”

Virgil leaned against his pillows, glancing away. “...Oh.” And then- “...So what are you here for?”

“I’m mainly here to ask about you. Are you alright?”

Virgil sighed. “I’m fine, Logan. I just- a bad mood was settling in. It was kind of a lot to handle. I’m getting the hang of it now.”

“That is good to hear.”

Virgil stared blankly across his room as it was quiet for a moment. He found himself staring at his other door. Plain. White. No decoration to speak of.

“...but not good to hear if it’s not actually the whole truth,” Logan added quietly. Virgil turned to him for a moment before looking away, unable to hold his gaze.

“...It’s just-” Virgil scrambled for the words- “-just- why me?”

“Why you what?”

“Why am I anxiety?” Virgil asked, misery evident in his voice. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be created. Thomas just wanted an antagonist, but people liked me, so I stick around. I never wanted-”

He broke off, forcing the lump in his throat back down, and gestured helplessly to his dark, cobweb-covered room.

“...We never asked to be ourselves either, Virgil.”

“Well, yeah, but-” Virgil shook his head. “It’s not the same. It’s fun to be you. I’m- I’m a burden.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean- look at you guys! You wear a necktie and glasses and- you’re so brilliant and witty and sassy. Roman is- is dressed as a Disney prince, for crying out loud, he’s the ultimate hero. And Patton’s so- just so- cheery and bubbly and happy and wears the silly adorable polo and- and the cardigan, and just- and here I am, with black eyeshadow and an oversized hoodie and sloppy hair, and if I could ever conjure up anything it would- probably be storm clouds and embarrassing photos and exam papers with failing grades on the top. My point is- why would any of you three ever not want to be yourselves and want to be somebody else?... What could ever be wrong with being one of you?”

Logan was silent. Virgil glanced back over at his closet door, falling onto his pillows in defeat. A heavy, dejected silence hung in the air. The shadows on the ceiling above Virgil’s head slowly began to spin.

“...Roman is dangerous.”

“...Huh?” Virgil whipped his head around to stare at Logan, who was looking at his hands in his lap. The shadows even seemed confused- those over the bed slowly dissipated. What?

“Thomas has said it himself,” Logan continued. “If he only listened to his most wonderful, romantic, fanciful thoughts, he would be setting himself up for heartbreak. Imagine if Roman had more unbridled influence- if he were left unchecked by you, or me, or even Patton. Thomas would have these huge, mountainous, ridiculous dreams dashed all the time by reality. …Do you remember the phone call?”

Virgil shuddered. How could he forget? The phone ringing, Thomas’ face of horror, Roman wailing for him to pick it up, his own terrifying voice- Get rid of it, get rid of the phone now!

“...Yeah. I remember.”

“Roman doesn’t know when to hold back. You helped Thomas through that one.”

“That was a moment of sheer desperation. And you were gone. Well- not gone gone, like you said, whatever,” he corrected as Logan opened his mouth to interrupt. “You weren’t there to stop the first call from happening in the first place. And besides- Roman was just doing what Thomas wanted.”

“Which is rewarding, yes. But sometimes, what Thomas might want isn’t what he needs… which brings me to Patton.”

“Patton?”

“Yes, Patton. Where Roman can be dangerous, Patton is- unpredictable. If Thomas only listened to Patton all the time, or even listened to him much more, he would exhaust himself being happy to everyone all the time and doing what everybody else wanted from him. His own necessary productivity and ambition would come to a screeching halt. Patton is actually constantly being suppressed or morphed or has to watch Thomas lie about his feelings while he’s struggling through them. And when he does take the time to work them out- well. Filming those Moving On videos hurt Patton deeply, as you saw. That took a lot out of him because Patton kind of- well-” Logan took a breath. “He prefers to cherry-pick his way through Thomas’ life, bounding from one positive emotion to another, no matter how fleeting. You know how he is conversationally- always saying whatever comes to his mind, interjecting randomly with things that don’t always make logical sense- it shows Patton is subject to whims and fancy. He is totally ungrounded. You and I convince Thomas he needs to work through more difficult feelings in order to better understand himself. You and I- rather ironically- both know repressing emotions isn’t good for him.”

Virgil mulled over this a second, taken back by Logan’s brutal criticism of the fatherly side. “...But Patton just tries to keep Thomas happy.”

“Exactly. He tries to keep him happy all the time. As wonderful as happiness is, it shouldn’t be a constant. It is unwise to make joy your baseline. But I-” Logan stopped.

Virgil glanced over at him again. The logical side seemed to sag slightly in the desk chair.

“...you…?”

“I…” Logan sighed, glancing at Virgil’s desk. “I used to, but- if Thomas listened to me all the time now… he would most likely almost never be happy.”

Virgil blinked. “Woah. What?”

“The other two bring the sunshine- not just a whole lot of it. Sure, I helped Thomas through his education quite a bit in the past- guided him towards his ambitions and goals, but- his goals are changed now. They certainly aren’t as academic as they once were. Which is fine! Absolutely fine. But.” Logan gave a short laugh. “Imagine if Thomas had never tried making videos, stuck to a chemical engineering career, and watched his Broadway dreams fade away. We all know how miserable that would make him… and because of that, I… well, at times I feel as though I am not much use anymore.” He exhaled slowly, a defeated smile on his face. Virgil frowned deeply.

“I used to be much more in control, as you know. I had to learn to give the reins over to Roman- to ignore Thomas’ education, everything he worked towards for so long, as Thomas shifted his chemical engineering career to the backburner and went full-throttle on the extracurricular I used to quite honestly hope was fanciful and fleeting. And that transition… As unemotional as I may be, Virgil, that was- that was terrifying. That was heartbreaking. But it made Thomas so happy.”

Virgil froze. What is going on?

“...Didn’t that make you wonder?” He blurted out suddenly. “If Roman being in charge- if you weren’t there- if that would have made Thomas happier all that time?”

Logan shook his head. “I used to. But I was wrong.” He glanced up at Virgil, smiling as he did.

“...But- but how? You just said-”

“I said the transition was difficult. I said it made Thomas happy. And sure, Thomas had hard times growing up. But did I keep him from being happy back then? No, of course not. Quite the contrary. I realized, then, that Thomas utilizing my strengths had made him happy- capitalizing on that love for the rainforest and transforming it into a potential lifelong career. Using Roman’s interest and guiding it into this plan helped Thomas in the long run. His discipline in his education helped him in other areas- and Virgil, that’s how you help him, too. You’re not always at the forefront- you rarely ever are. You do your best work helping Thomas quietly in the background.”

Virgil’s brain was spinning. He was quiet for a long moment.

“...how do I help him?”

“When you shoot down one of Roman’s wild ideas, it’s because you’re thinking long-term. To use a very Roman-esque metaphor, you see the chinks in the armor before he rides into battle. Roman only complains when you do so because his ego prevents him from seeing the issues himself. You’re there to protect him and Thomas both.

“And when you make Thomas practice his lines over and over, when you give him the butterflies in his stomach backstage, when you fear failure- it’s not because you want him to mess up. It’s because you want things to go perfectly, for Thomas to do his very best, for his fears not to come to fruition. And that is important to note.

“Virgil, when you’re afraid of a breakup, of losing friends and family- it’s because you don’t want Thomas to get too attached to something that might not always be there. You are attempting to be a cautionary tale before it’s ever written. You work against Patton and Roman simultaneously- you carry that weight- because you don’t want them to get hurt by their own ambitions.”

“Jesus, you’ve put a lot of thought into this, Logan.”

Logan grinned broadly. “That is what I do best. Just- think of us all like- say, a bike. Roman and Patton are the handlebars- they can pull Thomas in certain directions and guide him where he wants to go. You and I are the training wheels- making sure the turns aren’t too tight, that he doesn’t lose his balance. When Thomas is aware of us, when he also takes us into consideration, he makes sure he doesn’t take a road too bumpy or uneven.”

“But if we’re training wheels, doesn’t that mean Thomas- at some point- won’t need us anymore?” He winced once he realized what he had said. “...Sorry. That was probably a bit too close to what you mentioned earlier.”

But Logan simply shook his head again. “You’re forgetting a few things- first, that some people can ride bikes without using the handlebars, too. Second, Thomas is a child at heart- a toddler using training wheels isn’t too far of a metaphor stretch. Third- Thomas still doesn’t know how to ride a bike. The man made a vine about parkour and nearly shattered his wrist falling on purpose. Do you really think he’s going to ever hop on a bike without a little extra support?”

Virgil couldn’t help the loud laugh that burst out of his mouth before covering it quickly. Logan looked immensely proud of himself.

“And I thought you said the other two brought the sunshine,” Virgil teased. Logan blinked, caught off-guard by Virgil’s statement, before smiling softly- then his face turned more serious.

“...There is another thing I wanted to discuss.”

Virgil swallowed. Patton’s dad lectures were one thing. But a Logan lecture? He’d never heard of one, and it scared him a little bit.

“Roman tells us those stories because he knows we can’t experience them.”

“...Yeah. I know.” A bitter taste was back in Virgil’s mouth. He looked down again.

“No- you misunderstand. He is not boasting. He is sharing.”

Virgil glanced up sharply. “...What? What’s the difference?”

“None of us could truly follow on one of his adventures, and Roman knows that. He has the imagination and the bravery, the ego, the voice of narration, the knowledge of how to follow a plot steadily. We would either fail the quest, create plot holes, or never write the story because we wouldn’t know which direction to take it. Roman tells us these stories of grandeur so we can also experience them. Just like how Patton loves us all so much because he knows how hard it can be for us to love ourselves, fundamentally. Just as I am here for you, right now, being the voice of logic and reason. Just how you question our decisions for us, point out faults before they bring about our demise, and worry so we don’t have to. Personifying worry and anxiety- and to a degree, self-preservation- is not an easy task, Virgil. It is a steep order. It takes a lot out of you- but you are strong enough to handle it. You were made to handle it. Just as I was made to handle challenges of intellect. Just as Roman was made to handle creative block and self-doubt. Just as Patton was made to handle heartbreak. Thomas made you because he couldn’t function without you- and you have a two-video story arc to prove that, Virgil. Remember that.”

Virgil blinked hard to clear the fog from his eyes. He silently fiddled with his jacket zipper, Logan’s words bearing down on him in the quiet. He glanced up at the other side.

“...Thank you, Logan.”

Logan straightened his tie and glasses, sitting up in the chair. He nodded at Virgil.

“No, really. I- I had never thought about it... that way. You did, though- and you didn’t have to share that with me, but you did, and I… I… I really appreciate it.”

“You have helped me before, Virgil. I was simply returning a long-overdue favor.” He stood up from the chair and moved to exit, but not before turning back.

“...Oh. And Patton told me to tell you that you should apologize to Roman. I believe he said something akin to, ‘You can’t really wound Roman’s ego, but if you could, that would have.’”

Virgil smiled. “Of course Patton would say that… and he’s right. I’ll go. Thanks again, Logan.”

Logan smiled back. “Glad to be of assistance.”

A/N: ...in my defense, Logan's a bit of a chatterbox... goodness i love him for it tho

(this was partially my own ridiculous mind-dump headcanon on how Virgil is seen as so necessary- it’s not just that he’s also good, it’s that too much of the other’s isn’t the best, either. sorry if the train of thought derails quite a bit in there. writing logan’s dialogue is a major brain stretch in that I have to take my own words i want him to say, make the sentences long and rambling, and spice them up intellectually, which is so fun!- but can get messy)

comments and critiques are always appreciated :) and if you want me to tag you let me know!

#sanders sides #doorways #virgil #logan #roman #patton #mine #an extremely talkative logan #and a very grateful virgil #...i may edit this in the future #it's a /lot/ for logan to be saying on his own #we shall see

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cardiaceyes · 7 years

Text

You Were Always There - Chapter 5 (Stray so far Away)

Summary: More Eliza! And surprise! Lena/Kara interactions. In person.Next chapter: More soft wives.

There’s a new photo setting on the fireplace mantle, the place Eliza places her most prized pieces. Well as new as it can be, it’s at least three years old by now. It’s among pictures of Jeremiah, Alex’s first look in the world, Kara’s first step into the house, the two sisters together, and then one of all four of them together.

The picture is that of Lena wearing a set of goggles on her head, grease smeared across her face, and the brightest grin she’s ever had at the Danvers. Her arms are wrapped around Kara’s neck, Kara holding her in her arms,, and grinning straight into the camera like it’s the best time of her life. They’re both soaking wet and off to the side stands Alex with an empty bucket of water, hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous they seem.

Lena’s overalls are soaked, and Kara’s yellow sundress is too, but neither care. Alex looks just as thrilled as the both of them do, despite the white stain on the back of her leather jacket. She’d forgotten to be mad at them after Kara picked Lena up and spun them around with delightful giggles. They were all situated in the sun, just in front of the opened garage. Something Lena and Kara had taken apart laid across the ground behind them with tools.

She’d dumped water on them with a quip to ‘clean your act!’ when Eliza had come around, camera in hand. She’d picked it up the moment she heard the laughter, knowing very well it was a rare moment to capture on camera. All three girls at becoming giggling messes.

The camera didn’t bother them. They welcomed the capture. After Eliza had put the camera down, with a thought that Jeremiah would be so proud of all of them, she was being picked up attacked by three pairs of arms wrapping around her tight.

The shock was, it included Lena. Sweet Lena who had, at one point, been terrified of being held or hugged. Lena had slowly become used to it but never initiated the hug most times. Eliza’s heart had swelled and she wanted to cry out of pure happiness.

The laughs filled the air, and she missed them. Oh, she missed them so much.

It was a fond memory for all of them. It was a go to memory when they needed the smile, or perhaps even when asked what their favorite memory was.

So the photo took it’s rightful on the mantle. No one moved it. When people would ask about it? Eliza smiled at it fondly and would tell them it was a picture of all of her girls. Every one of them was hers and she could never trade it for the world.

So when she heard the telltale landing sound in the front yard, she looked out of her window and then glanced at the photo. She gave it a nod before moving towards the door, opening it to find an upset Kara. Kara nearly in tears and it shocked her. She didn’t question, however, just wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into the house.

Kara let out muffled sobs, trying to control them, and looked so overwhelmed.

Eliza sat her on the couch without thought, allowing Kara to slip her shoes off before she curled up on the couch and draped a blanket around her. She watched Kara curl up beneath it, curling into herself. Eliza’s heart broke but she turned towards the kitchen. If there was anything she could do, it would provide the comfort she could.

She moved to make something hot and sweet for Kara, it gave Kara time to cry to herself in the comfort of her home.

Eliza thought for a moment, hesitating to grab her phone from the counter. Should she? She had to think for a moment.

She and Alex both had become accustomed, before Lena, to Kara closing herself off when she became overwhelmed. The most they could do was offer the comfort they could and wait for her to draw out of herself and either talk to them or push it aside, most times she’d push it aside and ignore it. Like it was no problem at all. A smile that never reached her eyes.

It was probably because, in that respect, Lena was so similar and unafraid to hold Kara like they were that she was able to reach Kara and draw her back to them. Offering a smile and whispered words so only Kara could hear. Eliza was deeply concerned. She hadn’t had Kara do this since Lillian had tried to pick up Lena at fifteen and force her to come back home with them. Kara had been so scared Lena was going to go away- she just wanted to be home.

It had taken Lena talking to her and reassuring her that even if Lillian had taken her she would always come home. To all of them.

It was enough of a reminder to Eliza, she picked up her phone and sent Lena text telling her about Kara’s current condition.

She received a text not even a minute later telling her she’d be there when she could. She was going to grab the earliest flight she could and make it there, but she wouldn’t be there until late probably. Eliza could only give a soft smile and tell her to be careful, that she loved her, and would get a room ready for the both of them. She refused to let them leave until Kara was better.

She sent Alex a text shortly after as well, informing her of Kara’s state. That she showed up overwhelmed, nearly in tears, and she had no clue what had happened but told her Lena would be home in a few hours. Alex had shot off a series of concerned questions about her sister, and Eliza felt guilty that Alex had become this much of a protector it had probably shortened her childhood.

Still, she answered each question until Alex was satisfied and promised to have Lena or Kara call her the next day before she set her phone down after an ‘I love you’ text.

She turned back to the task at hand. For a moment she thought she’d make sweet tea, but didn’t instead opting for hot chocolate. A favorite of Kara’s. At least it was still was that she knew. Once it was made she returned back to the living room where Kara was obscured completely by the blanket and set the hot chocolate down in front of her.

She frowned but didn’t say anything, just tapped Kara’s shoulder, signaling for her to sit up so she could sit down. Kara did and the minute Eliza sat down Kara’s head was in her lap and she could properly hear sniffling coming from under the blanket. She let Kara keep herself hidden but gently rubbed her shoulder.

They stayed like that, for hours.

Kara moved only once to down the drink Eliza had made her before she settled back, but covered herself up again. Eliza eventually softly hummed and waited.

It would be hours, but she knew it was only a matter of time. She just wanted all of her girls to be okay and happy. Any one of them being in pain like this? She hurt for them. She wanted nothing more than to wrap them all up and protect them from the world. Part of her worried constantly about all of them, all of the time, though she’d never admit that for their sakes. She couldn’t help but feel...useless sometimes.

She watched the news and knew. Knew how much the world could hate and love them all.

So if Eliza could only offer this? She would offer it without thought.

So she sat there despite her aching legs and rubbed Kara’s shoulder until she slowly drifted off to sleep by accident. She couldn’t help herself. She heard Kara’s breaths even out and slowly drifted off into dreams and thoughts.

So she dreamt, of what she usually did. Everything and nothing.

What would it have been like if Jeremiah was still with them? Would he have been in the photo that sits beside her bed of Lena and Kara’s wedding? Would he have held them like Alex did with a proud smile?

Would Alex have gotten her own life?

It felt like there wasn’t enough time to think about those thoughts. Those theories.

She was gently being shaken awake.

Slowly she opened her eyes, blinking them open, and was met with soft but understandably concerned green eyes. She lifted a hand with a smile and cupped a cheek tired. Lena smiled back just as softly and held the hand on her cheek. She leaned forward and kissed Lena’s cheek before slowly moving Kara’s head off of her lap so she could stand.

Lena waited until Eliza opened her arms for a hug that she wrapped herself around her mother and sighed in relief, taking in the warmth that was being given so freely and unconditionally. She couldn’t help but melt into the embrace. Eliza understood all too well and held her for a moment longer before she leaned back and brushed hair out of Lena’s eyes with a fond smile.

“How are you, sweetheart?” She asked quietly.

Lena sighed and chuckled lightly, she was exhausted.

“I’m tired,” Lena admitted, “Lillian has been putting me through the ringer.”

Eliza frowned.

“I can handle it, I promise,” Lena reassured, “I’m more concerned about her.”

The moment Lena motioned towards Kara, Eliza followed her hand and frowned. Nodding in agreement. She was worried as well, she wasn’t sure what had affected Kara like this, but she prayed for whoever or whatever it was, that they never meet Alex or Lena. Both would destroy anything or anyone for Kara. It was perhaps the scariest thing about Kara, aside from her strong anger.

“So am I,” the mother finally admitted, “she just showed up. Didn’t say anything.”

“Nothing?” Lena questioned.

Eliza shook her head.

“Nothing. I didn’t ask, she was already so closed off by the time she ended up on the couch. I didn’t want to push your schedule forward,” she gave Lena an apologetic look, “I’m sorry.”

Lena waved her apology off with a smile and squeezed her arm lightly.

“Nonsense. I’m glad you did. I have a feeling she would have tried to forget,” a sigh was released, “I’m not due in National City for a couple of more days. So I’ll stay with her tonight, send her back tomorrow, and stay with you until it’s time if that’s okay?”

Eliza pulled her into a tight hug again and smiled.

“That’s wonderful,” she pulled back, “I’ll make something to eat. It’s-” she looked at the clock above the front door, “-ten. Kara and I haven’t eaten dinner yet, I’ll leave you to her. If you need anything I’ll be in the kitchen. Okay?”

Lena nodded and smiled. Eliza gave a smile back before she pressed one last kiss to Lena’s forehead and disappeared into the kitchen.

Lena stood there for a moment.

Just a moment. Watching Kara sleep away whatever it was that had gotten to her. She let out a soft breath as she set her purse down on the coffee table, she moved to kneel in front of Kara on the couch and slowly peeled the blanket away from her face. Her heart broke as she took in Kara’s tear stained cheeks. How heavy was Kara’s heart at the moment?

She ran fingers through Kara’s hair, and after a beat, she pressed her lips against Kara’s forehead and sat back. Hoping it would be enough to wake her wife, but alas, it wasn’t. So she kissed her forehead again and mumbled her name.

“Kara.”

Nothing.

“Kara,” she spoke again, placing a kiss to her cheek.

Nothing.

“Kara,” she spoke a tad louder, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

Nothing.

“Kara,” she spoke ever so softly, pulling the blanket down just enough to place a kiss to one of Kara’s bare shoulders.

Kara’s eyes slowly blinked open groggily.

Lena smiled, stilling running a hand through Kara’s hair, and waited for her to come to herself.

It took Kara moment or two, and a few groans, but eventually her vision cleared and she propped herself up on an elbow. Ready to grumble at Alex or Eliza, but she was met with familiar green eyes that stopped her heart for a moment and formed warmth in her heart. Full of love.

“Le-na?” She was teary eyed again, but for a different reason.

Lena nodded.

“I’m here love. I’m here. For you. ”

It was all Kara needed before she sat up and flung herself into Lena’s arms. Lena nearly toppled back at the force but caught herself and wrapped her arms around Kara’s torso tightly, aware she couldn’t hurt her wife. Wife. It still surprised her sometimes how wonderful it sounded even in her head.

She felt Kara hide her face in the crook of her neck and cry. She held her a little tighter, and held their position, despite how much it’d hurt in a few minutes. She was unwilling to break Kara’s comfort just for her back. She let out a small breath and slowly rubbed her wife’s back, continuously telling her it was alright. She could cry as long as she needed to.

Kara took it to heart and Lena was glad she did. She needed to let it all go every once in awhile, to let herself breathe finally. Lena knew this was a step towards doing that.

Lena was beyond relieved so simply hold Kara in her hands after months of being without her, even if Kara did show up during the night at times to fall asleep next to her. She missed being able to Kara whenever she wanted. Without thought. Without care. She loved the woman in her arms and was more than ready to bridge the gap again and see her every day. She wanted it. Needed it.

At this moment, however, she was uncaring about what she needed and wanted. She cared more about what her wife needed. What she wanted. She was in pain. She mattered more than anything.

It had taken Kara awhile, and by the time she was ready to talk, Lena’s back hurt from the angle they had held each other at. When Kara eased up Lena situated herself on the couch and drew Kara into her, wrapping an arm around her protectively and kissed the top of her head. Waiting silently for her to speak when she was ready.

There was no rush in it, they both knew.

“It was too much,” Kara spoke softly, “It was all too much. I couldn’t- just couldn’t.”

Lena didn’t question. She guessed easily that it was the world she was referring to. That everything from the moment she donned the El crest to her chest, that everything from that point to now had collapsed in on her finally. She just wished she could have prevented it.

“I’m sorry,” Lena mumbled against Kara’s forehead.

Kara shook her head.

“No, it’s-” She sighed, “-it’s everything was so much. James and Winn started talking to me today, about us,” Lena tried not to tense, she really did, Kara must have felt it because she squeezed Lena’s knee, “a co-worker saw my ring today. He asked about it, but then James and Winn heard, and asked. I didn’t-”

Lena knew. She felt guilty. It had been at Lena’s request they kept their marriage as much of a secret as possible, to keep the news from Lillian as long as possible. Until Lena could take away every grasp of power she had to make their lives hell because god only knew what she’d threaten to do to either of them for her benefit lest she tell Lex.

She understood why Kara would be hesitant to tell others, as Lena had asked her to keep it quiet.

“-the worst part?” Kara chuckled bitterly, “I thought they knew. They’d seen it before, asked, I told them I was married. Winn was surprised, he’s been my friend for two years I thought he saw it by now!”

Kara threw an arm up and shook her head before she returned to trying to dry her tears. Lena squeezed her but stayed quiet and let her continue.

“But when Jerry asked about it, I told him, and then James wanted to know who the other half was. I told him I’d talk to him about it later, but stupid Jerry and his dumb beard,” Kara grumbled, “joked about it being you because I have articles and stuff at my desk. James laughed, but I didn’t laugh ‘cus I didn’t find it funny! So he caught on, then Winn caught on, and then they started lecturing me about Luthors. So I told them we’ve been married for four fantastic years and left before they could continue. I...love them I do, I think Winn trusted James experience with Lionel and Lex.”

Lena shook her head and pulled Kara back into her. Kara let out a sigh of relief and placed her head on Lena’s shoulder, allowing her wife to bring her comfort. Lena sat there, fingers combing through Kara’s hair again, and waited.

Kara didn’t say anything else.

“I feel like there’s more to this. You can tell me all of it okay, baby?” It drew out a nod and sigh from Kara.

So Kara continued.

“I’m so tired Lena,” she sounded exhausted, “It wasn’t just Winn and James, I know they’ll get over it, even if it hurt me. I’ll forgive them. I’m just- tired.”

“Of what?” She asked gently.

A pause.

“Of the world,” it was a soft truth, “I’m tired of the world. The pain. The loss. The bad guys. I- I love what I do. I really do. Making a difference is just a part of me, so Supergirl is too. Just- why do I have to keep losing even when I’m winning? Why do I have to lose people, things? Why?”

Kara choked again, and before she could say anymore, Lena turned to her as much as she could and drew her to rest her head on her chest. She cried again.

Kara had become so emotionally overwhelmed she hadn’t known what to do, how to fix it.

Lena could understand.

So she slowly shifted them, so Kara was lying half atop her, and let her cry. Whatever Eliza was making she knew would be warmed up when they were ready. There was no rush.

Kara cried again, for all the pain and loss she felt. For all the time's people lied to her, didn’t believe in her, and for every time she was forced to bottle up her rage. Lena made a mental note to build equipment Kara could properly hit when she needed to.

Slowly, Kara’s crying subsided again and Lena let herself cup Kara’s jaw, tilting her head to look up at her. Kara did so willingly.

“I promise you are strong. I promise it’s okay to break. I promise I will always love you and no matter what you think you’re losing, you will never lose me, Alex, or Eliza’. Alright?”

Kara leaned forward and kissed Lena once, softly, before resting her head back on her chest.

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Beyond words.

No more words were spoken. Lena combed a hand through Kara's hair and hu

#THE MOTHER LENA DESERVES #ANYWAYS #SWAU #supportive wives au #Supergirl fic #supercorp fic #karlena fic #supercorp #karlena #lyss fics

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shadowdianne · 7 years

Text

SwanQueen ficlet (AU) The price to pay

You live in a world where magic exists, however, you must sacrifice a memory in order to cast a spell. The more memories, or the more precious a memory, the more powerful the magic. You just woke up with no memory save a name.

Asked by: @pressuredrightnow

And if reading here is not your thing it’s also here if you want! (Comments are deeply appreciated! And I always enjoy chatting with whoever that wants to do it ^^)

As always give me a magic infused prompt and my mind goes anywhere but probably towards the easiest answer for it! Xd Still, it felt really good to write after the silence of these past days :P I hope you like my intake of the story and thank you so so much for it!

Regina blinked owlishly as she regained her senses, her hands grabbing weakly the sheets that covered her -as she quickly checked- clothed body. Frowning, the woman looked around her, to the soft lights that illuminated the corners of the room in golden shadows that seemed to pool around the bed she was currently resting in from the windowless walls that only made her frown even more deeply. Feeling disoriented she looked around, her head pounding slightly with the movement alone.

Touching the roof of her mouth she could feel the cupric taste of blood mixed with something else her mind didn’t provide.

“Ritual.”

Some part of her seemed to whisper, an echo she quickly suffocated as she tried to make something from her surroundings; A place she had the distinct impression she was supposed to know even though she didn’t. Feeling slightly more panicked now than sluggish she reached for something else than the white sheets or the black and blue clothes she wore underneath. Her eyes fell into a framed photo, one she quickly picked up with trembling fingers as her eyes adjusted to the image, one she didn’t know what to think about.

A family of three, perhaps, a young boy flanked by two women, a brunette and a blonde. The fog on her mind seemed to clear for a second as she focused on the second one, something on the warm green eyes the picture showed enough to drag a name out of her lips.

“Emma.”

Suddenly, a crash startled her. Kneeling on the mattress and quickly turning towards the sound she found herself facing the very same woman of the picture holding what seemed to be trail of food and something that seemed to be shyness glowing on those very same irises she had been looking at mere seconds before.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were awake. Belle said that you could take longer… seems that you are even more stubborn than we thought, uh?”

The words, ended in a somehow soft smile eased up Regina’s fear for a second before the previous confusion settled back in. Glancing at the picture she still held between her fingers she noticed a small ring in one of them, a gem glinting softly under the lights that somehow seemed to glow brighter than a few seconds before.

“You... Emma?”

The name again, a name that almost seamed foreign on the way her mouth worked around it, her tongue still feeling way to big into the cavity of her mouth but it still seemed to be the only thing her mind was able to focus on. The blonde nodded slowly before approaching her, leaving the trail on the spot the picture had formerly stood. Long, nimble fingers splayed next to where Regina was seated, two of them picking on a piece of the sheets fabric, pinching and kneading it as Emma sat, staring at her and full bottom lip trapped between her teeth. A detail Regina’s eyes seemed unable to look away from as she, somehow, waited.

“I… yes, I’m Emma.” The blonde finally said, eyes soft but somehow fearful, long tresses cascading down her shoulders and for a second Regina was lost on the reflection of one of the lights she could see running down one of them, as a silver line, before she looked back at her. “You are safe, okay? Safe and sound.”

The last bit was accompanied by a small quirk of her lips that soon faded as Regina continued staring at her, somehow blankly, probably, the woman considered, taking on Emma’s still somewhat worried gaze.

“I know this can sound a little bit strange but… do you remember your name?”

Regina found herself wanting to roll her eyes at such ludicrous question but as she opened her mouth to provide the answer she found herself unable to do it. The fog inside her brain seemed way thicker than before, as some form of trap that prevented her to get that information. Feeling the panic raise inside of her once again she swallowed and shook her head, her fingers clenching on the frame of the photo, a burning feeling running down her fingers for a moment before Emma’s surprisingly cold hands covered them, easing her fingers up the picture.

“It’s okay, yes? Believe me, it’s okay.”

“But… what… who I am?!” Regina asked, thousands of questions coming out of her mouth. She could feel energy running around and inside of her as she flinched on the blonde’s hold, fear climbing up her throat as she tried to breath out the doubts she could feel swarming inside her brain, one that seemed unable to give her anything but those.

“You are her, Regina.” The blonde replied while putting aside her hands, tucking them on her lap as she gently pointed at the picture, towards the brunette that was hugging the opposite side of the boy the blonde was hugging as well. The face that stared back at her-more guarded and less open than the blonde in the picture but still joyful, didn’t echo an idea inside her brain but she touched the picture nevertheless, trying to re-link herself with the image of that other woman.

Looking back at the blonde she put the picture aside, her teeth clashing as she tried to speak.

“What happened to me?” She asked, her voice sounded colder, demanding, and the blonde’s lips curved as she chuckled softly.

“I guess some things can’t be erased, can they?”

Under Regina’s silence the blonde nodded once before pinching her nose’s bridge. The lights had seemed to dim on their own accord once again and the shadows that the now weaker glow casted on the woman’s cheekbones lost Regina for a moment.

“They said that you would start remembering those things once a while had passed, but I will try to explain it as well as possible, okay?”

Regina nodded; a part of her was still terrified and she wondered inwards why she hadn’t done anything more drastic to the blonde in front of her. However, another part told her to wait and for that she seated as poised as possible as the pounding above her right ear seemed to get quiet for a second.

“There was a ritual.” The blonde started, her eyes growing glazed, almost pained. “A lot of potions you… well, you did tell me what they were but you know… well, you knew how bad I am at remembering those, always better at attack spells.”

The last bit was muttered in a self-deprecating tone that died down the second the thought was out and with a shook of her head the blonde kept speaking, part of her hair falling now around her face, almost obscuring her features as she spoke.

The words ripped through Regina’s foggy brain, creating purple-hued shadows of symbols and words her tongue rolled around silently inside her mouth.

“Magic.” She said, earning a nod from the blonde.

“Yeah, and then you took that last potion and gave the other one to Henry, then you…”

“Henry?” Regina asked, the name brought her the same impression Emma had done although it seemed weaker, as if the same claw curled around her name was hiding that one as well.

“Yes, he…” Emma pointed meekly at the picture lying next to Regina, the eyes of the teenaged boy looking back at the brunette as she looked as well.

He seemed sweet and vivacious, with warm eyes and a chin that made Regina look at the blonde’s picture version with wondering eyes before she glanced quickly at the waiting figure of the real blonde; from the now jittery attitude to the way she kept playing with her fingers, touching her knuckles time and again, as if counting.

“I tried to talk you out of it, say that there must be another way, but you told me that there wasn’t so… you lighted the fire and there was a lot of purple magic I couldn’t look through it until it cleared out and then you were there.”

“My memories… I paid the price.” The words felt strange but the knowledge behind them didn’t and for a second Regina stared at the woman as her lips parted into a grateful smile.

“Yes, exactly. Belle said that your magic was something inherently linked to you so we didn’t need to worry about that front. Seems she was right.”

The name, alongside with the rambled answer, didn’t take hold into Regina’s mind but the information implicitly hidden behind did. Magic was something powerful and dangerous, something that didn’t give without taking. Suffering memory losses wasn’t strange to magic practitioners but being completely unable to focus on anything but a single name? The thought alone on what kind of spell or deal responsible for that made Regina want to shiver. Even if all she could do at the moment was just sit around and watch.

“You said that I gave a potion to… him.” She said before pointing towards the boy of the picture, some sort of longing installing inside her chest. “Why?”

The blonde sighed as she covered her eyes with one of her hands. On her hand, Regina noted, there wasn’t a ring and she looked quickly at the picture, noticing the gentle energy that seemed to cover the little group. Something that in any other circumstances she could have probably realized before but now with the fog that still reigned inside of her.

“Henry… he is… he is our son.” Emma finally answered, her teeth biting her bottom lip once again as she swallowed quickly what seemed to be an explanation Regina suddenly didn’t feel like having. “He was attacked yesterday and you… well, things looked pretty bad.”

The blonde’s voice felt chocked up and Regina moved ever so slightly, taking the hand of the blonde that wasn’t out of her reach. Around the wrist the blonde’s sported a faded and worn out cord she caressed with her thumb, earning something close to a sigh.

“Then you said that there was a way to cure him. I tried to tell you to do something else but… well, as I said you are stubborn.”

Regina’s mind didn’t give her any more answers than the ones the blonde was telling her but the pull of energy she had felt before felt stronger now and her mind grabbed onto it, in the purple sparks she almost could see jumping just a millimetre below her skin. Magic, she thought, the idea resonating stronger inside of her than before; she had magic.

And Emma as well, she realized, noticing the dirty white sparks that suddenly illuminated the irises of the woman as the lights inside the room grew bolder.

“You told me that there was a chance that most of you were… gone once you woke up. And then…”

Regina licked her lips, feeling them parched. The movement itself brought Emma back from the place she had seemed to fall down and she stretched herself towards the trail she had entered at first to begin with, a glass of water was soon offered to Regina who took it, noticing the difference of the room’s temperature the second her hands and Emma’s stopped touching.

“And is he… well?” Regina asked after drinking, the water scratching down her throat once she swallowed. Twisting her lips due to the feeling she looked at the glass, one of her thumbs dancing idly at the edge of it, her nail pressing the surface of one of its walls until the whole finger felt numb.

She saw the look of worry and hope washing over Emma’s eyes as well as the sadness as she realized that the question, albeit genuine, didn’t come from a supposed mother asking about her son. Feeling tired Regina drank for a second time, the glint of the ring on her finger catching her attention once again.

“He is resting.” Emma finally said, making Regina look up from her hand. “He still needs to open his eyes for more than a few minutes but you said that Reul Ghorm never did her deals half-cooked so we are hopeful.”

“Reul Ghorm.” Regina repeated, the name pulling something inside of her as she tried to not get her tongue twisted on the syllables of the name.

“Yeah, you said it was her the one you wanted to make a deal with.”

Regina hummed, unable to say anything else. The ring on her hand glinted as she handed the blonde the glass which she promptly placed back on the trail.

“How is that I remember you?” She asked, eyes still on the gem for a second longer than it should have. The greenish gem twinkled once before dying. “Your name.”

Raising her left hand, she approached to the now still face of the blonde, a blush starting to grow up her neck, spreading fast into her cheeks.

She didn’t touch her, not really, but the second her fingers hovered above her skin she felt the magic pull once again, the sparks almost burning down her skin, inside her lungs. The fog inside her mind prevailed but the purple shadows that had been filling it reshaped for a second before disappearing again.

“Regina.” Emma warned her, her voice sounding much more tired than before, almost fragile and she realized that there was something there that deeply disturbed her; the notion of weakness shocking her resolve.

“I didn’t even know how I looked like but you, your name, that I could remember.” She insisted. “Why?”

Her fingers were still hovering, her thumb almost touching the blonde’s mouth as it parted under her stare, her eyes losing themselves on the glint of white teeth behind them. She could feel the energy growing stronger again, pulling, pushing her as the same flavour than before filled her mouth. Magic? She licked her own lips as the question came out her mouth for a third time, this time nothing but a whisper, a trail of fire that tickled her mouth before dying into the blonde’s.

Suddenly, Emma sighed and the spell broke down into nothing as she moved backwards, standing as tall as she was as she walked towards one of the room’s walls, arms crossed in front of her chest. Chest, Regina noticed, was covered in a tank top that somehow seemed familiar even if it wasn’t.

Blinking away the last bits of the energy that still clouded her mind and gaze, Regina move towards the edge of the bed, the trousers she wore rustling against the sheets as she tried to stand and frustratingly discovering she felt still far too woozy to try it so.

“You still need to rest.” Emma said, tilting her chin towards Regina as if the woman had just proven a point. “I… I will let you sleep.”

Regina, however, wasn’t going to admit defeat and so she glared at the blonde trying to stand for a second time and managing to do it even if the pounding inside her brain, something she had almost forgotten by now, grew again.

“I won’t get any sleep, Emma. Tell me why.”

The blonde sighed as she seemed to weigh her options before finally moving closer to the bed, sitting next to the brunette as Regina followed her movement even if now the two of them faced the same wall. With her hands swung over her knees, her long fingers tightly pressed together, the blonde seemed a statue for a second before she spoke again.

“You gave me a ring, one that my mother had apparently given you before the fight against the dark one. You really didn’t tell me much. You said that it would help me in case something happened to Henry or you.”

Regina glanced at the ring, its power apparent now again as the blonde had become near.

“You said that it would help me to find either of you.” Emma kept on. “So when you started the ritual I thought…”

“That by giving it to me I would remember.” Regina finished, deducing the logic behind the blonde’s acts.

“Yeah, but it seems to have worked out only with one of us.”

Regina took of the ring out of her finger and held it in front of her, the lights helpfully growing brighter.

“Thank you.” She muttered, noticing for the first time the pendant the blonde had around her neck, the one that was probably canalizing its power in a previous settled charm.

The knowledge of magic came easier to her now, even if she couldn’t remember where or who she had acquired such knowledge. Magic, however, always protected itself, no matter what. Sucking on her teeth she peered inside the power she could feel brewing underneath the ring’s surface before it smacked her out of it.

Always a protection.

The solution, however, came to her the second the blonde muttered it under her breath, so gentle she almost didn’t hear it at all.

“It’s infused with true love magic.”

True love.

Opening her mouth in a perfect “o” Regina blinked before the last piece of the puzzle came into its place.

“I didn’t know what it was until I asked Belle.” Emma admitted, blush growing on her cheeks once again. “She has been helping a lot, with the whole unleashed dark one and all… she told me it was something that seemed to have been made by him. To my parents. Who knows why.”

“But you… didn’t told me, before stepping inside the circle, I didn’t understand why you were so sure of… it working, you know. Until I asked Belle and you said my name that is.”

The quick bursts of words came to an end as Regina reached for the blonde’s hands, sudden tenderness filling her chest. She still couldn’t remember a single bit, she reflected, but this woman? She could.

“Henry is our son.” She said, the thought still strange but somehow true. “I suppose I guessed that with a quick recalibration in case it was needed you would have been able to… find him.”

“But you knew already that I would be able to reach you no matter what” Emma replied before making a sound between a huff and a laugh. “Or at least that other you knew it. And I didn’t, not until Belle told me.”

Regina didn’t answer to that, preferring to sit silently next to the blonde woman, hand still grazing hers, writing names and symbols she still wasn’t sure what they meant.

“I guess I did.” She finally said before moving closer, her lips touching briefly the blonde’s cheek, warmth flooding through her the second she did.

I guess I did.

A/N Writing without getting carried away in the world-building is such a pain… Xd So there is a war against the Dark One, there is a fairy we all know well lurking in the shadows, Henry is well but was injured -badly- magic works different, Belle is on the good’s side and Snow and Charming are MIA. Yup, that summarizes it.

#prompt #swan queen #the price to pay #pressuredrightnow #fanfic #ficlet #swen

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simplymyswank · 5 years

Text

Do you know

a Christian Clown?

Thoughts all jumbled?

Upside-down?

Focused on one thing

stubborn, yup.

Walks around

always tripping up.

Clowns pick a verse,

From God’s Word

Bible skewed.

Message obscured

They live by laws

fooled themselves

a distracted plan.

Point at others

silly white glove

Judging dealt

with no love.

Man, that clown

is acting funny,

opinions inflated

looks like a dummy.

Didn’t Jesus

teach the way?

And he said

We would pay?

Only GOD can judge

any man.

Only GOD sees

A perfect plan.

Sad old clowns

Trippin’ on those shoes

Stop mocking God.

You’re lookin’ so bruised

Scoffing at folks

Yet, with no mirror

Sad reflection

Couldn’t be any clearer.

Don’t focus on things

That do no harm

Stop segregating love

With polka dot arms.

You’re an embarrassment

to His greater cause

Cause God said LOVE

above all laws!

Love your neighbor

spread kindness their way.

Don’t judge others

Simply Pray

Give to God

What you can’t change

Stop trying to fix

You can’t rearrange

It’s not your job

To meddle and fuss

In other’s business

To scoff and cuss.

Bless the world

With your shining light

Be different & focused

On what is right!

Don’t read the Bible,

and start making things up

You’re expecting water from

a hole-filled cup

You’ll get nowhere

from a cup with holes

Just a wet shirt

and more lost souls

How sad to be the reason

People didn’t pray

when God commanded us

bring more My way.

Clowns play a roll

either extreme or scary

Don’t be either

be LEGENDARY!

youtube

Clowns.

Be honest. Extreme and funny? Or scary and creepy? It’s one or the other right?

Why? Anything blown up so oversized is not okay. A huge nose? Eyes that are way too big? A super big mouth? Feet that look like snow shoes? It’s boarder-line one or the other. Funny or terrifying.

Clowns

For me, they are scary.

Photo by sachin bharti on Pexels.com

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I don’t like them.

Our church service yesterday discussed taking Bible verses out of context and becoming a litigious Christian. A Christian that takes one verse, blows it way out of context, creates its own set of rules and regulations and then presses on others with vague and grey, human-designed expectations.

Clowns.

Our family has set rules and regulations based on the weaknesses we have in our past. My husband and I don’t drink. It’s a weakness that is deeply ingrained in our family. Both sides have suffered from the disease of alcoholism. So, we personally don’t drink. It never ends well when we do, yet, it took a while to see we had to 100% stop drinking. We hurt each other a lot before we were able to let it go and make that family law. Sounds silly, but you probably can relate if you have suffered from it too.

That’s our personal choice. We don’t press our family law on others, judge them and make them feel awkward. Everyone has their own set of unique set of fingerprints designed and created by God. Their choices and paths are their own. Stressing out, demanding control and pointing fingers are the most insane actions that actually push people away instead of drawing them close. Have you ever tried to cuddle with a cactus?

As a Christian are you walking around with extreme attitudes, crazed and self-inflicted expectations of others and a stand-off attitude to what you see in others? Are you haughty, scoffing and a scary blown-up clown for Christ? Is that what he taught? Is that how he lived? Are you standing out for the wrong reasons?

When I committed my life to God as an adult, I was so passionate that it became like a drug. What put me on my knees in front of God was the lowest point in my life. I was living on adrenaline. While I was in that drug-like state of mind, I pressed my faith on my family in an extreme and desperate way. I was a clown. All I talked about was my faith and how they should change their lives. If they rejected my thoughts, I told them they were stupid and stubborn.

I’m not kidding, that actually happened.

And what resulted from those clown-like actions was so sad. They told me I was crazy and they couldn’t talk to me anymore. They couldn’t relate to the adrenaline drug I was on. I ended up pushing them away from salvation out of fear. They didn’t want to end up like me. We haven’t talked for over a year and when we do there is a barrier, a wall and such guarded discussion. I pray that never happens to any of you.

I feel sad about my actions. I can’t ever change them. But what I can do is try to live in a gentle manner from now on. Remain constant prayer, focused on staying humble and allow them to come to God in their own personal way. Only God can change their hearts now. The scars I left will always be there and I am so sorry for how I acted.

Which made me think about our church service. As Christians we are expected to love above all other laws. There is a distinct difference between love and acceptance, however. Love means not to judge – judging is only for God. Acceptance means that we allow other influences to dilute our God-given laws. Man, there’s a can of worms, eh?

I can’t condone actions that are against the teachings of Jesus. I am not saying that we can go about our business and love sin. We are to love people, nature their souls, carry ourselves as Jesus did and above all try to live a life that is not condescending or judgmental. Haha – I just typed judgmental – check out that word. You have to be mental (ego)- to think you can Judge.

I don’t want to be a clown for Christ. I want to be a loving Christian without the extreme or laughable characteristics that would ostracize me from society. I want to be a gentle night-light for Christ. I pray I am a light that shines evoking a sense of safety, not avoidance.

“A time will come when instead of shepherds feeding the sheep, the church will have clowns entertaining the goats.” – Charles H. Spurgeon (1834-1892)

Solomon asked God for wisdom – and it was granted – here are the words of wise Solomon.

Proverbs 10

13. Wisdom is found on the lips of the discerning, but a rod is for the back of one who has no sense.

14. The wise store up knowledge, but the mouth of a fool invites ruin.

Clowns Do you know a Christian Clown? Thoughts all jumbled? Upside-down? Focused on one thing stubborn, yup.

#Bible #clown #example #extreme #fool #guide #love #scary #trust #truth #Verse

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anavoliselenu · 7 years

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complete me chapter 11

“I needed someone to talk to, and he’s the dude who had the golden ticket.”

“And you slept with him?” I’m pissed. I’m seriously pissed. As much because they did it as because Ollie lied.

“We didn’t! I swear!” She holds up her fingers in a Boy Scout salute. “But there was a tug, you know?”

I’m relieved. But it’s a cold kind of comfort. “He’s engaged, Jamie. And he’s a mess.”

“As to the first, I know. As to the second, so am I. Maybe we’re soul mates.”

“Friends, yes. Lovers, no.” Just the idea makes me shudder. I can picture the movie of their relationship in my head, and it is definitely not one of Evelyn’s romcoms.

“I know,” she says. “I really do. You’d be proud of me. Nothing happened.”

“Proud of you?” I repeat, hearing what she’s carefully not telling me. That had it just been up to Ollie, something would have happened. That part he left out.

“You’re missing the point,” she says. “I didn’t sleep with Ollie. And I really wanted to because of the commercial and I felt lower than dirt, and, well, you know. But I didn’t—and I thought maybe that meant I was getting my act together.” She sucks in a breath. “And then I go and fuck an asshole and wreck Justin’s Ferrari.”

I may have used a blade against my own flesh to cope, but Jamie uses men. From a distance, it looks like my method is the more dangerous, but sometimes I’m not so sure. For years, I’ve seen the way Jamie’s casual fucks rip her up. Now, I’m afraid I’m seeing a different kind of danger. “The bottom line is that I worry about you.”

“I know you do,” she says simply. “I do, too.”

For a few moments, we’re both silent, and I think that we’re done. Then Jamie draws her knees up and hugs herself. “I’m thinking about going back to Texas.”

My mouth hangs open and I am literally speechless. Of all the things she might have said to me, this was not even on my radar.

“I can’t afford to keep the condo, though. So you’ll have to find another roommate. Unless you move in with Justin. If you do that, I might sell. The market’s gotten better. I might even make enough to buy a place in Dallas and have some cash leftover to pay Justin for at least part of the mess I made of his car. I figure my condo should cover about a hubcap, don’t you think?”

“Wait, back up. What are you talking about? You hate Dallas. You’ve always hated Dallas.”

“Look at me, Nik. I’m a mess. I go from fucking movie stars to screwing strangers. But all I’m really doing is screwing myself.”

“I don’t disagree,” I say baldly. “But moving to Dallas doesn’t change anything but geography.”

“Maybe that’ll be enough. Maybe there’s too much noise here. Too much temptation.”

I want to tell her she’s wrong, but I’m not entirely sure that she is. All I know is that I don’t want her to move fifteen hundred miles away. But what I want and what Jamie needs are two entirely different things. “Just think about it before you do anything rash,” I finally say.

Her eyes meet mine and we both laugh at the irony of my words. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she says, and we laugh even harder.

We leave the serious shit behind and spend the rest of the ride cranking up the tunes, singing along with Taylor Swift, and downing mimosas. Because, after all, you can never have too much vitamin C.

“Did you see that we’re finally famous?” Jamie asks, about the time we see the skyline of downtown LA.

“What?”

“Or, I am. Justin’s been famous forever, and you’ve been racking up your share of the press, too. But check it out.” She rummages in her purse for her phone and then passes it to me. “I took screenshots of all the stuff I found on the Internet. Just check out my photos.”

I do. There, mixed in with pictures of an absolutely gorgeous guy, are candid shots of me and Justin and Jamie at the shops at Lake Arrowhead. Eating, talking, laughing. There’s even one with Justin’s arms around each of our waists. She peers over my shoulder and taps the screen. “That one’s all over Twitter,” she says. “I’m not sure if it’s because Justin’s famous or because he’s fuckalicious, but it’s totally gone viral.”

“Maybe it’s because of you,” I say. The photographer caught Jamie in a laugh, her eyes bright, her hair shining. It’s the vibrant and beautiful girl in the picture that I know so well, but I can’t help but fear that the image Jamie has of herself is the one sitting beside me in the limo. Battered and bruised and not quite sure where to go next.

It’s not until we reach Malibu that Jamie presses her hands against the window, peers out at the world with her brow creased in confusion, then turns to me. “This is not Studio City,” she says, as if I am the one who is confused.

“You’re staying at Justin’s Malibu house.”

Her brows rise and her smile turns devious. “I was kidding about that threesome. But if it’s important to Justin . . . ”

I put my hands over my ears. “I can’t hear you,” I say over and over again until she breaks down and starts laughing.

“Seriously,” she says, “why am I staying in Malibu? Because if this is my punishment for wrecking his Ferrari, he kind of missed the mark.”

“Not punishment,” I say. “Pragmatism.” I go on to explain about the rock and the stalker-style text.

Her eyes are wide when I finish. “Whoa. At least you don’t have to deal with your fruitcake of a mother. You can thank me for taking that burden off you, anyway.”

“You’ve been dealing with my mother? How? Why?” I have no idea what she’s talking about, but since I wouldn’t sic my mother on my worst enemy, I’m already sympathizing with Jamie.

“She called me about a week ago—in a total Elizabeth Fairchild snit, I might add—and told me that since I was your best friend, could I please get you a message. Apparently—her words, not mine—you are emotionally confused, overwhelmed by your rich and bossy new boyfriend, and taking the whole thing out on her by ignoring her calls and emails.”

“Shit,” I say. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. When she called, I was pissed off at my mom for some bullshit thing I don’t even remember now. After talking with your mother, I was practically giddy about my entire family tree.”

“Thanks,” I say dryly. “Now I feel better.”

She just grins. “Anyway, I guess she’s pissed that you sent someone to get all those old pictures of you, but then you ditched her calls. I’d ditch the calls, too, Nik, but why on earth would you tell someone to see your mom for old pictures? Who do you dislike so much you’d send them her way?”

“I didn’t,” I say as a finger of worry trails down the back of my neck, making me shiver.

“It may not be bad,” Jamie says, obviously seeing the concern on my face. “It’s probably just a reporter. Someone putting together the definitive article on the girl who got Justin Stark.”

Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better.

She cocks her head and points a finger at me. “As of now, we’re entering a worry free zone. For the rest of the day, nothing but sand and surf and margaritas.” She thrusts out her hand. “Deal?”

“Deal,” I agree, because that sounds pretty damn good to me.

Chapter Eighteen

My margarita-inspired dream is wildly erotic. A hot mouth closed tightly over my breast. Strong hands stroking my splayed legs, moving upward with sweet determination until the two thumbs are close enough to brush over my swollen and eager sex. I open my eyes, but I see no one. There is only the touch of his hands and the brush of his lips and—oh, please—the hard length of his cock inside me.

I cry out for Justin—my voice noiseless in the dream—but he does not appear. There is simply that touch. That pressure. That insistent stroking of flesh against flesh, the rise of heat, and the steady, growing scent of arousal. I am lost in it. Lost in this sensual haze that surrounds me. It is Justin—it is always Justin—but though I reach for him, my arms find only air.

And then there are hands upon my breasts and the hot, hard head of a cock between my legs. I cry out as he thrusts into me, his movements rhythmic but frenzied. Over and over he pounds in a violence that seems to carry us up and up, a wild dance, a dangerous coupling. My heart batters my chest, my body aches deliciously—he is using me, pounding me, and the power of his thrusts are such that I wonder I don’t pass out from the desperate intensity of his fucking.

My body quakes as the force of an orgasm rips through him, and I reach up to pull his body closer to mine, knowing that in this dreamworld he will remain ephemeral and I will clutch only air.

But I am wrong, and my fingers find heated skin and taut muscles.

Justin.

I open my eyes to find him balanced over me, his cock going soft inside me. His eyes are hard on mine, and we are both breathing hard. I feel gloriously alive. Well-fucked and adored. But I also see the storm in his eyes and something that comes dangerously close to regret.

I want to reach out and slap it off his face.

“I used you,” he says, his voice as tight as the muscles of his chest.

“Yes,” I say, then hook an arm around his neck. I lever myself up and capture his mouth in a deeply sensual kiss that has his cock twitching inside me. I pull him down, wanting him pressed hard against me, not balancing above me, and hold him tight. “God, yes.” I hook my feet around his legs, keeping him there, his skin hot against mine, our bodies still connected.

When I look in his eyes again, I see that the storm has faded. I sigh. I do not know what happened between Justin and his father, but I know enough to understand that it ripped him up and it was to me that he came. That it was my body and my touch that helped him work through his demons.

I hold him close, still astounded that we have such power over each other. That we are the balm to each other’s soul. It humbles me. And, yes, it terrifies me. Because how could we ever survive if we lose each other?

I fall asleep in his embrace, but when I awaken, I am alone in the room. I sit up and glance around. Despite all the time I’ve spent in this house, this is the first time I have gone to sleep in the master bedroom. The iron bed upon which I sit used to be in the third floor open area, but Justin had obviously decided on a more traditional approach when he had the bed moved back to his house.

Other than the bed, though, there is no furniture in here. And there is no Justin.

I frown and climb out of bed. It’s still dark, and I grapple in my purse for my phone, then groan when I see that it’s not yet five in the morning.

I consider falling back into bed, but I know that is not possible. I need Justin. And, I think, he needs me, too.

His shirt is on the floor, and I put it on. The house is huge, but I have a plan of attack, and I go first to the library—a mezzanine that essentially floats beneath the third floor, visible from the massive marble staircase, but accessible only by a secret elevator or a set of stairs hidden behind a door off the utility area. The lights are low, casting shadows over the cherrywood shelves and glass cases that display the few things from Justin’s childhood that he values enough to keep. The area is filled with memories, both delicious and bittersweet. Justin, however, is not here.

I continue down, cutting through the commercial grade kitchen to the gym that takes up much of the north section of the house. I cock my head, listening for the thud of Justin’s fists against the punching bag or the clatter of weights rising and falling on the machines. There is nothing, however. Just a silence that seems to stretch on forever.

He is not in the pool, either, and as I stand, confused, on the flagstone decking, I begin to fear that he has actually left the property, possibly going downtown to his office. It occurs to me that I didn’t go into the master bathroom, and if he was going to leave me a note, that would have been the most logical place. I start to turn around to go back to check, figuring that if there is no note at least I can get my phone and text him, but I pause when I see the dim glow of lights off to the right.

I focus on them, trying to picture the layout of the property in my mind. Justin’s garage—a massive underground bunker that would make Batman drool—is roughly in that direction, but I’m pretty sure it’s more inland. But if the light isn’t coming from the garage, then what could it be? There was nothing else dotting the property when we’d walked along the landscaped paths before we’d detoured our lives to Germany. Nothing except the ocean in the distance and a flattened area where Justin told me he was considering building a tennis court.

I freeze.

Surely not . . .

I hurry that direction, and as I get closer, I hear an odd chunk-thwap and realize that I have found him.

I can tell by looking that the court hasn’t been finished for long. The net is brand-new and not the least bit weathered. The surface isn’t scarred at all. The ball machine that is currently firing at Justin glows bright and shiny under the towers that cast a faintly yellow glow over the whole area.

And there in the middle of it all is Justin.

I draw in a breath, overwhelmed by the sight of him. He wears nothing but gym shorts, and his chest shimmers from the light sheen of sweat. The muscles in his arms and legs are tight, and he moves with the grace and power of a wild animal as he rushes forward, swings, then attacks the ball. He is power and poetry, grace and perfection, and I feel my body tighten in response to the beauty that is Justin.

But he is broken, too, and my heart squeezes as I continue to watch him. Over and over, he moves and hits, his feet moving in a perfect rhythm, his body pushed to the edge. There is no emotion on his face—no smile of self-satisfaction when he nails the ball—just pure concentration, as if this is penance, not pleasure.

There is a chaise in the shadows beside the court and I sit on it automatically, transfixed by the sight of him.

I do not know how long he duels with the machine. I only know that when it stops spitting balls out, he shouts a curse and hurls his racquet. I yelp, surprised, and Justin whirls to face me, his expression a mix of shock and concern.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you,” I say softly. I ease off the chaise and move onto the court—and into the light. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed.”

“No.” The word is rough. “I’m glad you’re here.” He takes my hand and pulls me close, and sweet relief flows through me.

“You didn’t tell me you went ahead with the court.”

“How could I not after you teased me with the possibility of you in a tiny tennis dress?” His words are light, but they do not penetrate the shadows in his eyes. “I’ve had a crew working on it since just before I left for Germany.”

“I’m glad.” I smile up at him, and I am genuinely happy. Tennis has been a constant in his life, but Richter stole the joy, and Justin hasn’t played since he quit the circuit. The knowledge that he is finding his way back to something that he loved bubbles through me.

That happiness, however, is tainted. Because I saw the storm in Justin’s eyes when he took me so wildly only a few hours ago. And I saw the fury of that same storm just now as he attacked the stream of balls.

“Was it your father?” I ask gently. “Is he the one who turned the photos over to the court?”

I see the shadows cross his face again, and when he turns and starts to tug me toward the edge of the court, I fear that he isn’t going to answer. But we are not returning to the path. Instead, he sits on the lounge where I had been only moments before. He stretches his legs out in front of him, and then pats the space beside him. I lay on my side, propped up on my elbow so that I can watch his expression as he speaks, but it takes so long for him to begin talking that I start to wonder if I’d been wrong about why he has brought me here.

I am about to suggest that if we are going back to sleep, the bed inside would be a much more comfortable choice, when he shifts and looks at me.

“I don’t think it was my father,” he says. “He seemed genuinely baffled when I confronted him about the pictures.”

“Oh.” My brow furrows with worry and confusion. “So you don’t have any idea who it could be?” That would certainly explain the storm I saw in his eyes.

“I don’t,” he agrees. There is silence. Then, “I’m worried about Sofia.”

I don’t understand the transition. “I know you are, but she’ll check in. If she’s playing roadie to a band in Shanghai, she’s probably not—”

“I’m afraid she’s running,” Justin says simply. “I’m afraid someone’s harassing her.” He strokes my cheek, his eyes burning into me.

“Oh, God,” I say with sudden understanding. “You think someone is trying to get to you through the women you love. Me. Sofia.”

“I think it’s possible.” He scrubs his hands over his face and through his hair. “I think a lot of things are possible. All I know for certain is that those goddamn photos were my salvation whether I like to think about them that way or not.”

“They were,” I agree.

“And I still don’t know who or why, which leads me to think that someone is playing with me. They’ll reveal themselves eventually, and when they do, they’re going to want something from me. Tit for tat.”

I want to argue with him, but what he says makes sense. I sit up and draw my knees to my chest. “But how does that tie in with Sofia being missing?”

Even in the dark, I can see the way his eyes cut away from me.

“Justin?” I press. “What aren’t you telling me?”

I hear him draw in a breath. “Richter abused her, too.” The words are flat, matter-of-fact, and they chill me to the bone.

“Oh.”

He continues without pausing. “If there are photos of me, there are undoubtedly photos of her. Someone delivered a set to me—through the court, but still to me. What if someone did the same to her?”

I tremble. I think of how the photos wrecked Justin, a man with so much strength it awes me. What would they do to this fragile girl? “But wouldn’t she call you? Aren’t you the one she’d turn to for help?”

“I don’t know. Sofia is many things, but predictable isn’t one of them. She once disappeared for six months. Turned out she screwed some guy who did time making fake passports, and since I haven’t been able to find any evidence that she left the UK under her own name, I can’t help but wonder if she’s hooked up with him again. She’s smart and she’s fearless. She’s lived on the streets, so if she feels like she needs to hide, she can disappear better than anyone. Most important, she’s fucked up enough to happily fall off the grid.”

“I get that you love her, and I get that she’s not entirely stable, and I get that you’re worried. But, Justin,” I say gently, “she’s an adult. And no matter what your history, she’s not your responsibility.”

“Maybe not, but it feels like she is.”

I can’t help but nod in understanding. After all, Jamie’s not my responsibility, either. I sigh and stretch out beside Justin. He presses a kiss to my forehead, then links his fingers in mine. A moment later, he presses a button on a remote control.

The lights on the court wink out, and we are thrust into a darkness broken only by the gentle glow of a blanket of stars spread wide across the sky above us.

Chapter Nineteen

After Saturday’s drama, I want to bottle Sunday so that I can keep it close and pull it out whenever I need it. We spend the day doing everything and nothing. Even Justin turns off, abandoning his quest to find Sofia or my stalker or the bastard who leaked those photographs in favor of entering a purely vegetative state with Jamie and me.

Jamie and I rouse ourselves from our prone positions around lunchtime in order to take a walk along the beach. Justin doesn’t join us, claiming he’s too engrossed in his reread of Asimov’s I, Robot. Considering Justin’s love of science fiction, I do not doubt that the book has captured him, but I also know that the reason he’s not coming is because I asked him not to. I want some time to interrogate Jamie about her announcement that she is considering moving back home to Texas.

Once we’re actually out with the sun and the surf, though, I can’t seem to find the right moment. Instead, we chatter about nothing as we walk all the way through Justin’s property to the ocean, then north up the beach to our nearest neighbor. He’s tall and muscled and his coffee-colored skin is slick with the sea. He waves at us as he comes out of the water with a surfboard. Jamie, I think, is going to have a heart attack when she sees him.

“Who is he?” I whisper as we turn around and head back toward home.

“That’s Eli Jones. He won the Oscar for best supporting actor last year.” She shakes her head. “You really are hopeless.”

“I am,” I say. And, since I doubt I’ll find a better transition, I add, “It’s going to be hard to focus on your acting career if you move back to Texas.”

She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Yeah, well, we both know that it’s a long shot career. It’s not like I’ve taken LA by storm.”

We’re both barefoot, and now she kicks her toes through the water, sending droplets flying. They twinkle for a moment in the sun, then quickly fall, lost once again to the churning water of the ocean. I can’t help but think of Jamie; I want more for her than fifteen minutes of fame, and I fear that my lack of enthusiasm for her move is more about me than about what is best for Jamie.

“Whatever you decide,” I say firmly. “You know I’ve got your back.”

We’ve crossed the beach and are trudging back up the path to Justin’s house when my phone rings. I pull it out from where I’ve stashed it in the pocket of my terrycloth cover-up and am surprised to see Courtney’s name on the screen.

“Hey, Courtney. What’s up?” Courtney is Ollie’s fiancée, and we’ve known each other for years, though not as well as I’d like since she is constantly traveling for her job. Still, she’s sweet and genuine and I think she loves Ollie. I love him, too, but I don’t love the way he fucks around, and even though Ollie ranks higher than Courtney on the best-friend-o-meter, I can’t help but feel that she deserves someone better.

Beside me, Jamie’s eyes are wide. What is it? she mouths, but I can only shrug.

“Ollie and I want to know if you and Justin are free on Tuesday night. Jamie, too. Is she with you? Ollie said she’s staying with you and Justin this week?”

I glance sharply at Jamie. She hadn’t told me that she’d told Ollie where she’s crashing. I shouldn’t feel suspicious—after all, they were friends before they fucked, and I hope they’ll be friends after—but I can’t help but be nervous.

“Yeah,” I say, looking hard at Jamie, whose sheepish expression only makes me more nervous. “She’s here. What’s up on Tuesday?”

“Nothing specific. But I don’t have any trips this week, and we haven’t seen y’all in forever. I told Ollie that we should all go to Westerfield’s. You know it, right? That place in West Hollywood.”

“I know it,” I say wryly. Westerfield’s is one of Justin’s properties.

“So can you come?”

Part of me wants to say no, because I’m terribly afraid that there will be drama. But a bigger part of me still hopes that Jamie and Ollie and I can get back to where we were. “Sure,” I finally say. “We’ll be there.”

By the time evening rolls around, we have lounged by the pool, walked along the beach, played air hockey in a game room that I didn’t even know the property boasted, and watched the first two Sean Connery Bond films while stuffing our faces with popcorn.

For dinner, Jamie suggests that we roast hot dogs on sticks over the fire pit, and then make s’mores. It’s calorie-laden and gooey and fun, and as I lay beside Justin and lick chocolate off his fingertips, I can’t help but wonder if life can go on like this forever.

It can’t, of course, but for these few hours I am enjoying the sanctity of life within this bubble.

It ends all too soon, though. At ten, Sylvia calls to patch Justin in on a conference call with one of his Tokyo suppliers. He kisses me lightly, then heads inside to take the call. I watch him go, sipping my whiskey and enjoying the way his ass looks in his favorite threadbare jeans. Jamie, I see, is also appreciating the view. She meets my eyes, then grins. “What? Like you don’t know he’s hot?”

“Trust me,” I say as I lean forward to grab another square of chocolate. “I am fully aware of his hotness.”

“Making another?” Jamie asks, passing me the bag of marshmallows.

“Nope. Just eating the chocolate.”

“You okay?”

I glance up at her. “Chocolate isn’t always a sign of a deep emotional crisis.”

“Good. Glad to hear it.”

I put down the chocolate, suddenly wary. “Why?”

“No reason.” She holds up a hand as if warding off my nonexistent protest. “Really. I was just wondering what was going on with the whole stalker thing. Not that I don’t totally love it here,” she adds quickly. “But, hey, I like being around my stuff.”

“I get that,” I say. “But I don’t think Justin’s security folks or the police have learned anything new.”

“Must be driving Justin nuts.”

“It is,” I say. “That and trying to find Sofia.”

“Who?”

I realize that I haven’t told Jamie about Sofia, so I give her the abridged version, mentioning only that she’s a friend of Justin’s from his tennis days, that she’s a little fucked up, and that she’s missing. Probably doing the roadie thing with some band, but until that’s confirmed, Justin’s worried.

“And you’re not jealous?” Jamie says.

I raise my brows. “Are you saying I should be?”

“Ex-girlfriend, and now he’s obsessed with finding her again? Shit, I’d be pulling my hair out.”

“Thanks,” I say dryly. “I appreciate the mental health pep talk.”

“Yeah, well, as we’ve established several times over, I’m not anywhere near as together as you.”

“I think you have me confused with someone who doesn’t cut,” I say.

The look she gives me is as serious as I’ve ever seen on Jamie. “I think you have you confused with someone who does.”

I stay still for a moment, not answering, but looking at myself through Jamie’s eyes. Have I really gotten my shit together? Maybe not entirely, but I’ve been doing pretty damn well. And I owe all that to Justin.

I think about the times when I’ve started to slide—the times when Justin has caught me—and I wish that Jamie could find someone, too. Someone who gets her and doesn’t put up with her shit. Someone who’s not just looking for a fuckbuddy or a one-night stand.

Someone who’ll love her.

“What?” she says, peering at me through narrowed eyes. I just shake my head.

She reaches out for the candy bar, and breaks off two squares. Then she uses the squares to sandwich a marshmallow. She doesn’t bother to melt it over the fire; she just bites in, her eyes closed in what looks like near-orgasmic joy. “Damn, but I do love chocolate.”

I stand up. “I’m going to bed before I eat any more of that. Do you want me to wake you in the morning? I’m getting up early to go to the office.” Those words are at least as delicious as the chocolate. I have an office. My very own office. Seriously, how cool is that?

“I’ll disown you if you wake me up,” she says. “Now go.” She waves her hand regally. “If I can’t have sex, I’m going to at least finish off the last of this chocolate.

I’m asleep by the time Justin comes to bed, and he’s gone again when I wake up. I have a vague memory of being wrapped in his warmth at one point during the night, but for the most part, I’m feeling bereft. At least until I find the note in the bathroom promising me something delicious that night—and maybe even dinner, too.

Cooper has magically appeared at the Malibu house, and I can only assume that one of Justin’s elves drove him there while Justin and I were at the hospital with Jamie. However it arrived, I’m grateful, and I slide happily behind the wheel and head out for the long trek to Sherman Oaks. I’m starving, and my usual traveler’s mug of coffee isn’t cutting it this morning. Justin once introduced me to the world’s best croissants from a local Malibu bakery, and since I can arrive at my own office at whatever the hell time I want to, I decide to make a detour.

The Upper Crust actually has a drive-through, but I decide to park and go inside. I think I want a plain croissant, but I’m more than willing to be tempted by something truly decadent like pain au chocolat or a sticky, gooey cinnamon roll that is positively dripping with icing. As it turns out, it’s the apple fritter that seduces me, and as I pay for it and an extra large latte, the little bell on the door jingles and Lisa walks in.

I lift my hand to wave, then immediately drop it. She’s hand in hand with a man I know—Preston Rhodes. The head of acquisitions at Stark Applied Technology.

For a second, I think this must be one of those Big, Amusing Coincidences. But then I see Preston’s smile of recognition—and Lisa’s grimace.

Well, fuck.

“Justin,” I say, my temper rising as each piece of the puzzle falls into place. “You didn’t talk to me that first day in Burbank because I was the new girl at Innovative,” I accuse. “You did it because Justin asked you to.” I’m proud of myself for keeping my voice level, but considering the way Preston looks between us and slinks away, I don’t think I’m quite as calm as I think I am.

“It wasn’t like that,” Lisa says.

I cock my head. “He didn’t ask you to reach out to me?”

“Well, yes,” she admits. “I guess it was like that.” Unlike mine, her voice really is calm. Perfectly level and perfectly reasonable. Which, naturally, pisses me off more.

I cross my arms over my chest and stare her down.

“He told me that you were considering going out on your own. That you already had some smart phone apps on the market that were doing well, and that you were working on developing some web-based apps that he thought would make a serious splash in the market.”

“And?”

“And he told me that you were unsure of yourself as a business owner.”

“So he figured if I wouldn’t listen to him, maybe I’d listen to you?” While I’ve sought out Justin’s advice on the financial end, I’ve hesitated to ask him to step in to help me with the business. At the same time, I’ve been reluctant to launch until I felt like I knew what I was doing. Lisa is the perfect bridge between my insecurities and my needs, once again proving how well Justin knows me—and that he is still keeping secrets and pulling strings.

I remember how he told me that he’d checked Lisa out. Damn the man! He didn’t have to check her out—he knew her. Hell, she’s engaged to one of his top employees.

“I’m so sorry,” Lisa says. “He asked me not to tell you, but the truth is I didn’t even think about it after that first time we met in Burbank.”

I exhale. “Honestly, it’s not you I’m annoyed with.”

She sighs, and the professional veneer slips. I see the core of the woman I’ve come to know—the woman I thought was becoming my friend. “Come on, Selena, you know how he feels about you. He wasn’t trying to be underhanded—he only wanted to help you.”

“Help drive me crazy,” I say, and Lisa laughs.

“I really am sorry.” Her expression is genuinely contrite. “So are we still on for happy hour sometime?”

“Sure,” I say, because no matter how mad I might be at Justin—and right now, I am very mad—I’m not going to screw up this nascent friendship with Lisa. “Actually, I’m meeting some friends at Westerfield’s tomorrow. Why don’t you guys come, too?”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” I say firmly.

“I’d like that,” Lisa says. “Text me the details?”

“Will do,” I promise.

“And don’t kick Justin too hard,” she adds. About that, though, I’m making no promises at all.

It takes all my willpower, but I manage not to call Justin from the road. We are definitely talking about the whole Lisa bullshit, but we’re going to do it in person once I’ve cooled down a bit—and have figured out what I want to say and exactly how I want to say it. Justin is far too adept at distracting me, and I have no intention of being distracted.

Giselle calls while I’m in the car, and we make plans to meet at the office to go over a color palate she’s picked out. As soon as I hit the freeway, though, I can tell that traffic will be a bitch. I have no idea what time Giselle left Malibu, but it’s possible that she’s got a thirty minute head start, so I call my own office and tell the receptionist—whose name I have forgotten—to let Giselle into the space if she gets there first.

As it turns out, traffic isn’t just a bitch, it’s a raging, angry bitch from hell, and it takes me well over an hour to get from the Upper Crust in Malibu to my office in Sherman Oaks. I’ve finished both the coffee and the fritter by the time I arrive, and so I park Coop and walk down to Starbucks to get a refill on caffeine. Monica is at the same table, and she looks up and waves when I come in.

“How’d the audition go?” I ask.

She frowns and makes a thumbs-down motion. I make the appropriate sympathetic noises and get in line for coffee. I get a fresh latte for me and then, because I’m in a bit of a mood, I add an extra black coffee, and have the barista put a container of cream and some sweetener in a bag. Then I deliver the coffee to the security guy who tailed me from Malibu and now sits in his car in the office’s covered parking area. “You must be bored out of your mind,” I say. “But I really do appreciate it.”

He thanks me, tells me his name is Tony, and assures me that it’s not boring at all. I don’t believe him, but I appreciate the lie.

I’m not surprised to find Giselle in my office when I get there, but I am surprised by the wide swaths of color she has painted on my walls. She must see the surprise on my face, because her eyes go wide, and she immediately starts apologizing. “It’s so much easier to pick a color if you have an actual patch on the wall. Those cardboard paint chips will only get you so far.”

“No, it’s okay, really. I like the blue,” I add, pointing to a patch of sky blue she’s painted by the window.

“One of my favorites as well,” she says. She glances at her watch. “I know you have work, so let me finish putting some of these colors up, and then I’ll come back tomorrow with a few canvases for you to choose from, and you can tell me which colors sing to you.”

I agree readily, though I don’t know how much singing the colors will do. As far as I’m concerned, the blue is just fine. But Giselle seems determined to make this a process, and since it’s important to her—and I’m going to get a freshly painted office out of the deal—I am happy to go with the flow.

My cell phone rings right as I’m firing up my laptop. It’s Jamie, who is calling to gloat about the fact that she going to spend the day luxuriating on the beach while I slave over a hot keyboard.

“Not that I wouldn’t rather be shooting a commercial,” she adds. “But I’m all about the glass being half full.”

I laugh. “Glad to hear it. And, James,” I say, “just because the beach is private doesn’t mean it’s private, you know?”

“No naked body surfing?”

“Not even topless,” I say, smiling.

“Tell your man that I’ll fix dinner tonight. We can call it rent. What do you want?”

“I’m good with anything,” I say. “And if you need to go to the store, just get Edward to drive you.” I frown, realizing how easily the instructions have come from my lips. Edward doesn’t work for me, after all. And yet here I am sliding into the mistress-of-the-house role.

I have to admit I like it—even if I am still irritated with Justin.

“My friend Jamie,” I say to Giselle after I hang up, even though she hasn’t asked. “She’s vegging at the Malibu house today.”

“Sounds nice.”

I glance around my office feeling a bit smug and very happy. “Maybe,” I say. “But this is good, too.”

“I’m excited for you,” Giselle says. “And impressed by how quickly you’re working to get your name out there.”

I frown, confused.

“The article in today’s Business Journal,” she says, as if that will make it all crystal clear for me. “About the app you’re designing for Blaine. I think it’s great that you’re turning all that nasty press about the portrait around and using it to promote your new business.”

“I didn’t contact the Journal,” I say.

“Oh.” She frowns. “I guess Evelyn or Blaine must have. Either way, it’s great publicity.”

Great, maybe. But also odd. And as soon as Giselle leaves, I pick up my phone to call Evelyn and ask if she sent out a press release. I don’t mind if she did, but I would have liked advance notice. If for no other reason than I’d like a copy of the article for my scrapbook.

Before I get a chance to dial, however, the receptionist tells me that I have a delivery. I open my office door to find a messenger with a huge box of chocolates. I take it, bemused, and read the card. Forgiveness and chocolate go together.

A wry smile twists my lips. Apparently Justin spoke with Preston Rhodes.

I consider calling him, but decide to wait. It will serve him right to squirm.

Promptly ten minutes later, there is another delivery. A gift basket filled with fancy liqueurs surrounding a huge bottle of Macallan whiskey. The man knows me well. I check the card and laugh out loud. Forgiveness goes even better with alcohol.

Funny, maybe. But I’m still clinging to my irritation.

Still, I can’t deny that the edge on my anger has dulled a bit.

When the next delivery is announced, I’m already waiting by the door. I tug it open and gasp to see Justin himself standing there. He’s holding a shopping bag and carrying a single red rose. There is both amusement and apology in his eyes, and I have to fight the familiar tug that urges me to take the packages from him and wrap myself in his arms.

I realize we’ve been standing like that for too long when he clears his throat. “Can I come in?”

If I’d heard even the slightest hint of laughter in his voice, I would have slammed the door in his face. But his voice was flat and respectful and despite the whimsical nature of his gifts, it is clear that he knows my frustration with him is genuine.

“For a bit,” I say. “I have work to do.”

I step aside, and he eases in, his arm brushing mine as he does so. I feel that frisson of awareness that I associate with Justin and draw in a tiny little breath. If he hears me, he doesn’t show it. He just strides into my office, puts down the bag, then hands me the rose. “I’m sorry,” he says.

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