#operator: youre late for your fucking curfew

[thefanficmonster]

Piss off your parents pt.1

PART 2

PART 3

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: You just wanted to rebel a little, how did it get to this?

"Y/N, you're fucking insane." Colby grumbles, struggling as he unbuckles one of his best friends out of the backseat of his car. She, however, seems completely unbothered by him maneuvering her into an upright position. She's giggling, actually, a direct contrast to her mascara streaked cheeks. She's drunk, wasted. Three sheets to the wind, if you will.

He already had to put two other drunk messes to bed tonight, Y/N's his third. He should be getting paid per person and per difficulty. Nate was the easiest to subdue, followed by Sam who put up a brief 'I'm not even drunk, dudeeee' kind of fight. And now her.

The party was at Sam's house so the previous two didn't require any special treatment other than being dunked into Sam's bed. Y/N however...

She'd pleaded with Colby, the most sober one of the bunch, to just let her be. Let loose, get drunk, flirt around a bit. That being said, four hours later - two hours past her curfew - when he tried prying her away from the drink table she put up one hell of a fight.

"You have the balance of a newborn giraffe! You're done! I'm cutting you off!" He'd yelled over the music, hearing his own parents' scolding in his tone but he ignored it. He had to take on the parenting role with his friends, it was his turn after all. He knows they'd do the same - they've done the same - when he was plastered. He owed them the same curtesy. Especially Y/N.

She's usually on parenting duty, not really on the heavy drinker side. But after the fight with her parents she told him about earlier, he can't blame her for wanting to drown it out with a few extra shots.

A few too many extra shots.

He was planning on just safely storing her in one of the guestrooms for the night and playing nurse the following morning when all three would undoubtedly have a hangover. But that's when Y/N's cognitive thought kicked in.

"My parents are gonna kill me if I don't make it home tonight! I can't sleep here!" She was - and still is - heavily slurring her words but the thought of further pissing off her folks drove her into an almost sobering panic. "Call me an Uber while I find my shoes. What time is it?"

Colby had carefully dodged around answering that question, knowing it would send her into a full blown heart attack knowing she was running so late. He tried telling her on time but she'd blown him off, saying she didn't care about the stupid curfew or at least that's how much he'd caught from her string of slurred rambles.

"You're not getting an Uber at this hour. Come on, I'll drive you." He'd said reassuringly as he picked up one of her stray shoes.

They soon found the second one and her missing purse and within fifteen minutes they'd gotten in his car and were gliding down the road with the speed of a tortoise. At this point in time Colby was neither drunk nor tipsy but that didn't stop him from sweating bullets as he operated the vehicle.

"I don't wanna go to Barton!" He'd believed she was asleep after the long stretch of silence following their departure so her sudden exclamation was quite startling.

"You won't, Y/N. You're coming with us to LA, remember?" He believed in that lie as much as she did, but he needed to soothe her somehow.

"Not according to mom! I'm gonna be stuck here in Kansas all my life!" Her anger was now engulfed by sobs Colby gently offered tissues for.

He stayed quiet and let her ramble, only partially listening to the words spilling directly from her heart. He especially tried drowning out the part where she went on a whole rant abut her massive crush on Nate.

But, alas, he wasn't successful, seeing as how he was white-knuckle-gripping the steering wheel more than half the way to her house.

That's how they've ended up here - one a giggly and mascara stained drunken mess and the other a bitter and regretfully sober babysitter. Well, babysitter, Uber driver and therapist all in one. He really should start charging for his services.

He wraps one of Y/N's arms around his shoulders, securing it there by holding her hand while his other arm fixates itself around her waist to keep her upright and at least semi steady on her feet.

With a silent prayer, he tries pushing the front door open with zero luck. It's locked.

He's cycling through all the stages of grief as he comes to terms with the fact that he will, unfortunately, have to ring the bell and alert Y/N's parents of their arrival.

He does just that, although quite begrudgingly, sighing heavily when he sees a light turn on through one of the windows. The sound of oncoming footsteps follows.

His eyes are soon met with the unpleasant glare of Y/N's mom who - as he's picked up on from their handful of interactions - already isn't very fond of him.

Just him!

She's lovely to Sam and Nate, but he's not extended the same curtesy. You can visibly see the air around her get colder when she approaches him whereas she's always been so kind and welcoming to the other two people in their friend group. He hasn't been able to figure out why. Bringing it up to Y/N proved futile as she just shrugged and shook her head.

"No clue, Colbs. But don't take it personally. She's just like that." She had said, but it didn't sit right with Colby. It made no sense. And it continues to bother him.

And unnerve him, specifically now as he's being stared down by her icy gaze.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Y/L/N....just bringing Y/N home. She had a little too much to drink." There's no way in hell he could've concealed her drunkenness. She's hanging off of him with her head bowed, her hair forming a curtain over her face. He wouldn't be surprised if he were to find her already asleep.

"You know where her room is." There's an edge to her scoff that could slit a man's throat, but Colby chooses not to dwell on it. Truly, he can't, seeing as how she's already moving away from the doorway and down the hall into the living room, leaving him to deal with the mess she thinks he caused.

He can't find it in himself to be offended right now, although he probably will be later. He has bigger fish to fry.

And so, with his options limited, he opts to pick her up bridal style so he can easily carry her up the stairs. He hopes to God her parents don't see this and get the wrong idea.

Oh if he only knew what's to come...

As carefully as he can, he settles his unconscious best friend on her bed, tucking her in. He's murmuring reassuring words under his breath as he does so, not sure if they're meant for her or him but in the end it all works out.

"Night, Y/N." With that whispered in the darkness of the room and a gentle kiss on her temple, he makes his exit, briefly stopping at the bottom of the stairs to peek into the living room, "Good night, Mrs. Y/L/N."

"It's almost morning." Her reply is on-par with most of their interactions so he just pushes past it, shaking his head slightly before leaving out the front door.

As he does so, he notices the sky has taken on a brighter shade of blue, signaling Y/N's mom really wasn't exaggerating. With a sigh, he gets back behind the wheel, heading to Sam's house to check on his other two patients.

* * * * *

Her head is pounding but you'd never be able to tell from the giant grin on her face as she sprints through the neighborhood, skipping through backyards and hopping the occasional fence to cut the trip short. The strap of a duffle bag is slung over her shoulder, she's clutching onto it tightly. It has all her belongings in it, after all. It's of upmost importance she doesn't lose it.

That's be rather unfortunate right after spontaneously moving out, wouldn't it?

She wouldn't say she got kicked out of the house per-se. That would indicate that she was thrown out against her will. Quite the contrary actually. She was more than happy to leave. Had she known those were the magic words, she would've said them so much sooner.

She catches herself before she can make a face-first collision with Sam's front door, stopping to catch her breath and knock a couple of times. And a couple more times. And a few more times.

It's safe to say she's impatient. But with the news she has, you can't blame her.

"Stop! Stop!" A disheveled Sam finally opens the door, one hand partially covering his pale face, "Too loud..."

Y/N gives herself a moment to feel guilty and hug him apologetically before dashing inside. "Colby's here, right?"

"Yeah!" She hears his voice coming from the kitchen and immediately makes a beeline in his direction, dropping her bag in the foyer.

Upon entry, she finds Colby and Nate sitting by the kitchen island, both in different stages of 'the morning after'. Despite the crippling headache, however, the latter finds it in him to give her a genuine smile, sliding off the stool to envelop her in a hug.

"Aww, is someone hungover?" She mocks Nate, sneaking a sip from his Gatorade.

"Hey!" He complains, reaching over to snatch the bottle from her, "Give it back! I need it way more than you do."

Colby, unable to stomach their interaction - for reasons he doesn't want to get into right now - busies himself by looking down at his phone.

He's known of Y/N's little crush on Nate for months now. At first it was only speculation based off her demeanor around him. And then it was more like a punch to the gut when she tipsily confirmed it one night.

"Colbs?" Her voice snaps him out of his brief bitter spiral, forcing him to look up, "Can I borrow you outside for a sec?"

He's struggled with saying 'no' to her since the day they met. Not that he wants to turn her down, he just wishes he could.

And wishes she didn't. Without even knowing it. Turn him down, that is.

With a nod, he follows her out to the patio where the sun isn't kind to either of them, adding gasoline to the fire of their raging hangovers.

"Sup?" Try as he might, he has never been good at feigning nonchalance around her.

It's surprising to see her nervous. For once, he believes their playing field to be even. "So...I've got good news wrapped up in bad news."

Her words would panic him a lot more had she not come in like a force of nature with a gleaming smile adorning her face. Still, it's not at the top of the list of things he wants to hear on a Saturday morning. So, with an exaggerated sigh, he signals for her to continue, "I'm all ears. The last twenty four hours can't get much worse."

He watches her face twist as she cringes, well aware she's about to prove him wrong, "Well...." With a deep breath, she finally spits it out, "The good news is, I'm coming with you guys to LA."

Colby doesn't spare a second, momentarily forgetting the bad news she'd mentioned as he scoops her up in a hug, "No fucking way! Hell yeah! I fucking told you!" He can't describe the immense joy and relief he's feeling right now. "Kiss that Barton College shit goodbye!"

Giggling, Y/N kicks her feet, looking for solid ground beneath them. Not that she's in a rush to be set back down. In fact, for a split second, she wishes this moment could last forever.

But, she's aware it's impossible.

Suddenly, she feels guilt creeping in for even letting that thought run loose in her head. She doesn't even know how or why it popped up.

She just knows she's about to ruin it all.

"One problem..." It's actually far more than one, but they'll dissect that later on. She just has to get the main one out the way, "You see, how that came to be...."

"You have no shame! You get wasted at parties, break rules, come home past curfew." Mrs. Y/L/N's voice is shaking the house, echoing twice as loudly in Y/N's head as she's just trying to eat a bowl of cereal. "Random people are bringing you home at dawn!"

She has the gull to argue back, "Colby is not just some random person, mom!"

"Oh yeah, he of all people was the one bringing you home! What the hell, Y/N?!"

Her mom has never liked Colby. The problem is, no one knows why. Y/N isn't sure if her mom even knows why. She tried asking once, it didn't go over so well.

But that's when two and two click together into a four in her head - a bright idea. Actually, 'dim' would be better. Nothing bright is welcome within her proximity with the splitting headache she's nursing.

Without a second thought, she blurts out: "What's so wrong with having my boyfriend take me home after a party?"

Her words ring out like a gunshot in the quiet house. Yet they are nothing in comparison to the explosion of her mother's anger in response.

Colby's mouth is hanging open, his gaze piercing through more so than focusing on his friend.

She, on the other hand, is sweating bullets, anxiously waiting for him to say something and break the long silence that has fallen upon them. When he doesn't, she wills herself to whisper a mousy little "I'm sorry."

Finally, a voice leaves his parted lips: "Y/N, you're fucking insane."

#sam and colby #colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #colby brock fanfic #colby brock imagine #colby brock smut #colby brock fic #sam golbach smut #sam golbach imagine #sam golbach #nate hardy #nate hardy x reader #nate hardy imagine #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader #x reader #requests open

[tommysversion]

A Breath Of Fresh Air ( Veracruz x AFAB!F!Reader )

Summary: you get caught outside after curfew. Luckily for you, Veracruz is open to … negotiations. (This is basically a transcription of a dream I had. Whoops.)

CWs: DUBCON / Overstimulation / Double Penetration / Impact Play (Slapping & Spanking) / Degradation / Rough sex / Anal play / Unsafe PIV Sex / Oral Sex (M!Recieving) / Squirting / Extremely dirty talk / Transactional sex / Bordering on Dead Dove.

Notes: please read the warnings and consume content at your own risk & responsibility. Credit for giving Veracruz his first name goes to @ezras--moon & @ariundercovers 🩷

You just wanted some fresh air. A breather from the stuffy house you’d been confined to with the rest of your group. Generally, when a militia takes over town, you stay out of their way.

You’ve never been the smartest; rounding the corner of the alleyway, you almost walk right into him. Not just any asshole with a gun, but the leader of the unit. Fuck.

Leandro Veracruz isn’t a patient man, not really. He saves all limited patience for his job, to keep control over his unit and appear to be the cold, calculated leader that he is. You don’t rise to the rank he holds at the age he is, without being a little ruthless.

You’ve heard of his reputation. The way he doesn’t seem to care about cutting down anyone who gets in his way. You’re certain there has to be some sort of driving motive behind how he is; it’s rare for people to be the way he is without motive, but still.

“You’re out after curfew.”

You know that he is, undeniably, a bad guy, but nonetheless, that heavily accented, dark tone sends a shiver down your spine for all the wrong reasons. Maybe it’s that stupid, primal reaction that makes you choose honesty, rather than trying to craft a feasible lie.

“I know. I’m sorry, I just. I really needed some air.” As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you realise how stupid you sound. It only serves to sink in further when he raises an eyebrow at you.

“You needed some air? After curfew? Did you consider maybe opening a window?” He’s tired; it’s late, and one of his people has come down with the flu, so he’s covering his patrol instead of sleeping. It’s made him a little more short tempered than usual. “You know you could be shot for this, yes?”

You visibly shrink in on yourself, and Leo almost feels bad. Almost. He knows what it’s like to be cooped up in a small space, can’t really blame you for wanting to get out, but the rules are the rules, and he has a reputation to protect.

“Are you going to shoot me?” You ask finally.

He shakes his head, rolls his eyes. “If I was going to shoot you, pajarito, I would have done so by now. I am going to have to arrest you, though.”

You shiver again, thinking of the overcrowded cells in the local station, the lawlessness that goes on in there. You could be assaulted, stabbed, beaten, and nobody would blink an eye. Absolutely not. Which leaves…

“Maybe we can work out some sort of compromise?” The way you say the last word, the way you pause before you deliver it in a somewhat suggestive tone, makes it entirely clear to him what you mean.

Leandro has absolutely no trouble getting women; he knows he’s attractive, knows the right things to say and do. He’s not above paying for company, either. It’s been a while, though, given the latest operation, and frankly? You offering as a bribe is entertaining him… entertaining him and intriguing him.

He looks you up and down, then nods.

“I’m sure we could come up with some sort of deal, yes.” A lazy smirk crosses his face as his hand moves to almost caress the cuffs at his belt. “Do I need to cuff you, or are you going to follow me quietly?”

It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s armed; a handgun, a rifle, and a wicked looking knife sheathed in his belt.

“No, I’ll be good.”

“Good answer.” He nods approvingly, beckons you forward. He leads you through the alleyway, through a back gate into the little house he’s taken over as base; his people are inside, but his command centre outside is set up in a tent. It’s a durable, triple canvas layer thing built to withstand pretty much any weather.

Lit by a lantern swinging from the roof, it’s a practical, spartan, and yet somehow still cosy place. It doesn’t need to be furnished or fancy; he’s got a table, a gun locker, a duffle bag, and his bed in there. That’s all he needs.

The bed is a foam travel mattress laid out on stacked and nailed together pallets. No point carting a proper bed around on deployment. It’s not the most comfortable, but it’ll do. It serves his purpose just fine, and given the circumstances, you aren’t about to complain.

You’ve seen him shoot people in the centre of town before. Seen the way his people handle things. The fact that he’s even taking this rather than just outright punishing you for breaking the law is a good sign… you think.

He puts both the handgun and the rifle in the gun locker, then turns back to you.

“Strip.” He moves past you to flop down onto the bed, folding his arms behind his head and watching you lazily. For a moment, you consider running. You’d have a head start. But then he’d probably find you, and definitely shoot you. Besides, this was your idea.

You take your time removing each layer, trying to at least make it look somewhat enticing rather than awkward. You never quite know how people in movies manage to make stripping down for sex look enticing. Maybe you’re just clumsy.

When you’re entirely bare to his gaze, he beckons you over.

“Come here, tímida, I’m not going to hurt you… much.” A wicked grin crosses his stupidly handsome face as you nervously do as you’re told, letting him pull you onto his lap. A tiny squeak leaves you when you feel how hard he is against your core, the rough material of his cargo pants brushing against your sensitive skin.

Fuck. You’re terrified of him, yes, but you want him, you realise. Badly.

“Much?” You raise an eyebrow at him, “I thought the deal was you don’t hurt me at all.”

There’s that wicked grin again, sinfully smug this time.

“I won’t do anything you don’t beg me for.” His fingers grip your hips roughly, making you acutely aware of how much bigger than you he is. That does absolutely nothing to curb the desire that’s starting to build in you; this was supposed to be a transaction, a way to get yourself out of trouble, but you’re starting to get the feeling that you’re going to enjoy this far more than you first expected.

“Is that right?” You manage a little smirk, lips parting in an embarrassingly needy moan when he deliberately grinds you down against the length of his cock. The very, very obvious length of him. Fuck.

His fingers wander inwards, splay across your thighs, thumbs rubbing across your skin.

“Careful…” he warns, but his voice is softer than he intended. Still, it does the trick, and you nod, pliable and submissive to his touch once more.

“That’s better…” He nods approvingly, keeps one hand holding you firmly in place while the other wanders almost lazily between your thighs, finding your swollen, aching clit and rubbing firmly. It’s not the touch of someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing, and briefly, a pang of envy strikes you as you think of how many other countless, nameless women have been turned to pliant mush under his touch.

“I’ll make it good for you,” he almost purrs it as he leans up so you’re chest to chest, “though it seems like you’re more than willing as it is…”

His fingers lazily drag through your slick, teasing your core, barely slipping inside. You whimper again, louder and needy at the feeling of the very tips of his callused fingers pressing inside you. You can feel your slick dripping onto his fingers, down his hand, coating his pants. Slowly, he presses his fingers in deeper, curling them enough to make you cry out, before he’s pulling them out, spreading your thighs wider, fingertips teasing your other hole, wet with your own slick.

You shiver under the touch, but you don’t flinch away.

“Knew it,” he almost mutters to himself, leaning in to drag his teeth down your throat. “Knew you were a dirty little whore. Bet you’re going to cum the second I slide my cock into this pretty little cunt.” He punctuates the last word with a sharp slap to your clit, making you cry out and flinch away. You don’t hate it, though, it just surprises you.

“Well? Are you just going to sit here and look pathetic?” His hands seize your wrists, drag your hands to his belt buckle and settle them there, leaving you no doubt as to what he wants you to do. You’d only been waiting for express permission, really, your hands making short work of the belt, unzipping his pants and reaching in to wrap your fingers around his cock, freeing his length from its confines.

You have to bite down on your lip to keep your jaw from dropping. Fuck, he’s huge. Thick and curved and fuck, how is he going to fit? You run your fingers up and down his cock, thumb teasing at the tip before you meet his narrow eyed gaze.

“Stop fucking around.” He almost growls it at you, yanking you closer to him again, lifting you effortlessly so he can wrap his hand around his cock and notch it at your dripping entrance. “Montarlo, bebita.”

Ride it, baby. Oh, fuck, how you intend to.

The words are surprisingly soft as he guides you down onto him, inch by inch, letting you sink down onto him slowly. Your lips part in a filthy moan as you wriggle your hips, flush against him now. Taking a moment to breathe, you start to move, knowing he won’t just let you sit still for long.

You lift yourself up, slowly at first, then sink back down, getting faster with each movement until you’re bouncing on his cock, a string of little moans falling from your lips as one of his big hands seizes a fistful of your ass and squeezes tight, then slaps, hard enough to leave a mark.

Your cunt tightens painfully around him with each slap, knowing an imprint of his hand will be left there. Just when the slaps are really starting to hurt, he draws his hand away, settles both on your hips and guides you up and down his cock, rough and needy as his hips buck to meet you.

When he’s got you in a rhythm that he likes, he moves to rub at your clit again, clearly rewarding you for doing something that he likes. Veracruz doesn’t bother pretending he isn’t enjoying this, the way your eyes drop closed, the way you tighten around him every time he rocks his hips up.

You move your hands to brace on his chest as you ride him, lost in the feeling of him buried to the hilt inside you. Fuck, he feels so good, you don’t even care about the circumstances in which you ended up here, all that matters is the overwhelming feeling of pleasure building in you as you ride him.

“Fuck, please, give me more,” you beg him, desperate and needy and forgetting your place entirely. He’s not a good man, is allowing you to think you’re in charge because it amuses him, but the idea that he isn’t giving you enough somehow? Fine. He’ll see whether you can handle him.

He seizes your wrists in one hand, pushes you backwards and pins you beneath him, caging you in. You whine pathetically at the sudden emptiness where he’s pulled out of you.

“Greedy little slut, aren’t you? I bet if I cuffed you to this bed and stuffed my cock down your throat you’d thank me for it, wouldn’t you?”

You whimper beneath him, rubbing your thighs together, desperate for some sort of friction on your aching clit, cunt pulsing with sheer need.

“But that’s not what you want, is it?”

You shake your head, and his open palm lightly collides with your cheek.

“Answer me. That’s not what you want, is it? So tell me what it is that you want, and maybe, maybe I’ll give it to you.” He drags the tip of his cock through your soaked folds, practising every step of self control he possesses not to just pin your thighs up under your chin and fuck you senseless.

“N-no, that’s not what I want.” Your cheek stings from the slap, but you love it, want him to be rough with you, want to feel him all over for days to come. And somehow, you know, that all you have to do is ask, and he’ll give it to you.

“Tell. Me.” He growls, leaning down to devour your lips in a heated kiss, knotting his fingers into your hair to yank your head to the side so he can suck a deep purple mark into the soft skin above your collarbone.

“I want you everywhere,” you tell him; he releases your wrists and immediately you move to undo his shirt, help him discard it before you drag your nails lightly up his back, “I want your beautiful fat cock stuffed inside me and your fingers in my ass. I want you to make it hurt, make it hurt so good I don’t want anyone else.”

Fuck. He practically growls at the words. Roughly spreads your thighs, hooks them up over his shoulders, lines himself up and plunges into you, making no effort to be slow, bottoming out almost immediately. The sting of your nails on the muscle of his back makes him think you’ve drawn blood, but he doesn’t give a shit. All that matters is the way your eyes roll back slightly as he fills you, the way your tight, wet little cunt seemingly sucks him in deeper, molding to every curve in his cock as your body adjusts to him again.

“Is that all?” Veracruz demands as he rocks his hips slowly, drawing another tantalising moan from your lips.

“I want you to keep going, even when it’s too much.” You reply, arching your back up to get closer to him. You don’t care whether he’s a bad man, whether he could kill you, all that matters is how he feels inside you.

“Greedy,” he pulls almost entirely out of you and slams back in, throbbing painfully at the obscene mewl you make, “fucking,” he repeats the motion, “whore.”

He slams into you, hard and fast, the tent echoing with the sound of skin roughly slapping together, your needy moans and his growls and grunts of pleasure. His teeth graze your throat, the curve of your tits, sucking greedily at your hardened nipples and biting down lightly. Almost without warning, you tighten around him, milking his cock as you gush and soak his cock, your slick dripping out of your abused cunt, down his cock, dripping down his balls as he fucks you.

“Fuck, that’s it, bebita, give me another one, go on~” he tilts his hips just so, the velvet soft head of his cock hitting your sweet spot with each and every thrust, making you scream out for him, soak him again, convulsing slightly beneath him.

“That’s it,” he groans, pulls out of you briefly just so he can flip you onto your front, pausing onto to stuff a pillow beneath you to prop you up at the angle he wants you.

“Fuck,” he draws it out into a long, drawn out groan as he sinks back into you, loving the way you feel on all fours, “look at you.”

One hand fists into your hair, yanking you up into position.

“You’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You’re still dazed from two back to back orgasms, but you nod as best you can. You hear the impact of his free hand on your ass before you feel it, a sharp crack that echoes through the tent.

“You answer me when I speak to you.”

“Y-yes. I’ll be good.” You almost whimper it as he starts to move, releasing your hair and rubbing soothing circles on your bruised ass.

You can feel your own slick still between your ass cheeks, unbothered when his big hands spread them gently as he fucks into you slowly.

“Does my pretty, pathetic little whore still want all of her holes filled?” His voice is slightly mocking as he teases his finger around the tight ring of muscle, making you shiver. “Is my cock not enough?”

“It is,” you whimper as he slams into you again, “but please… ‘m greedy, just wanna be filled up, please~”

You’re babbling, but neither of you care. You’re too cock drunk, and he fucking loves it.

“Such a good girl for me, you should have what you want…”

As he speaks, he presses a single finger into your ass, knuckle deep, slow enough to let you adjust. When you moan and try to press yourself back against him, wanting both his cock and his finger deeper, he chuckles low in his chest, draws his finger out only to press two back in.

You moan, loud, obscene, feeling so wonderfully, deliciously full as he starts to move his fingers in rhythm with his cock, scissoring them slightly to make you mewl and wriggle beneath him.

The hand that isn’t occupied with fucking your ass moves around to roughly palm at your tits, pinching and teasing your nipples as he fucks you, harder and faster, hand moving down to tease your clit.

It’s too much, but exactly what you wanted, tears springing to your eyes as you tighten and gush around his cock again and again, his fingers insistently plucking at your clit like a practised guitarist until you collapse on the bed, unable to hold yourself up.

“Please, I need~” you simultaneously want him to stop, and don’t, because you want him to come, want him to fill you up and make you ache with need.

“Does my little whore need something?” His voice is low, breathing slightly labored with the effort of keeping his own release at bay.

“Do you want to be filled with my cum? I’m not stupid, princesa, you can have it in your mouth or your ass, I’ll be generous and let you decide.”

Slowly he draws his fingers out of your ass, slowing his thrusts to torturously languid, giving you time to decide.

“My mouth, please,” you beg him, “I wanna taste you…”

He groans, pulls out of you and smirks slightly at the sight; your cunt is swollen from how roughly he’s fucked you, drenched in your own slick and fluids and his pre cum.

“Hands and knees.” He instructs as he gets up off the bed, beckons you to the edge of it as you obey, crawling to him on shaking limbs.

You part your lips obediently, let him feed every inch of his cock into your mouth, tongue flicking at the soft head briefly before you take him, nose brushing the soft curls at the base of him.

He moans, a loud, drawn out grunt as he rocks his hips. He’s so fucking close, you barely need to do anything, but you do, sucking him greedily, working your tongue around him as his fingers curl into your hair, roughly guiding you.

“Fuck, that’s it, bebita, my pretty little whore, you have such a filthy mouth, ‘m gonna cum down this pretty mouth, you’re gonna take it, take all of it…” he groans, trailing off into broken Spanish as his hips stutter, spilling hot, thick ropes of his spend into your mouth, down your throat.

Greedily you drink him down, make a show of licking him clean, and he groans in appreciation at the sight.

When he eventually pulls his slowly softening cock from your mouth, you look up at him with a slightly cheeky smile on your face.

“So… I’m guessing you’re not gonna shoot me?”

“No.” He agrees, and then a slightly wicked grin curves his face, “but I’m not letting you go, either.”

Maybe it’s the hormones, maybe you’re just cock drunk, or maybe you’ve never been the smartest. Either way, you look him up and down with a sleepy smile.

“Seems okay to me.”

Like you have a choice. Like you really mind, either way.

#my writing #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #comandante veracruz #Comandante Veracruz x Reader #Veracruz x Reader #Pedro Pascal Character Fics

[kivaember]

have this wip of a freud/621 pwp where they're fighting while they're fucking you're welcome (this wip is mostly sfw)

Freud was on the hunt. 

The heavy footfalls of his steel-capped boots echoed loudly as he prowled through the dimly lit storage facility for the Vesper’s main base of operations in Belius, the towering stacks of shipping containers and crates creating an angular maze with plenty of dead-ends and blind spots. His only source of light was his flashlight that normally hung from his toolbelt when he wasn’t in his piloting rig - after all, if he wasn’t piloting, he was doing mechanical work on LOCKSMITH. 

Or hunting his favourite playmate. 

Belius was in its night cycle, and most good little pilots like Pater were in their bunk, snoring away. But their newest and most difficult member? V.VII Raven was scurrying around after hours, throwing up the figurative middle finger at his enforced curfew despite Snail’s teeth-gritted demands for him to adhere to Vesper hierarchy. 

If it were anyone else, Raven would’ve been tossed headfirst into re-education until his surprising rebelliousness had been stamped out, but fortunately for him, Freud intervened on his behalf. He liked Raven as he was: feral, vicious, always looking minutes away from ripping out his throat with his teeth - and as V.I, he overruled V.II’s increasingly strained suggestion to bring that mutt to heel.

Like hell. Freud was letting this beast run loose for the fun of it. It was Snail’s own fault if he kept letting himself get bitten. 

(He wasn’t even being figurative about it. Since capturing Raven and browbeating him into uneasy compliance by holding Walter’s life over his head, Snail had been bitten by Raven on four separate occasions, the last almost resulting in a lost thumb. To be honest, Freud was pretty certain Snail deserved it in some way. You’d think he’d learn to stay away after the first time, let alone the third.)

While Raven was obedient in terms of carrying out Vesper missions flawlessly, outside of the cockpit he was an agent of surly chaos. Freud thought it cute, though, and he always enjoyed these little games of theirs. After all, there was a reason why Freud was in the storage facility after hours, wandering around this faux maze with nothing but a little flashlight lighting his way… 

“Raven~” Freud called in a teasing lilt. “I know you’re here. You didn’t cover up your trail very well…”

A trail that Freud could see crystal clear beneath the glare of his flashlight. Small boot prints tracked across the concrete floor, an oily sheen to them: because it was an oil, and probably a mix of lubricant and other fluids required for effective AC functioning. Freud had tracked this trail from LOCKSMITH’s sabotaged hydraulics and fuel system all the way to this storage facility, more amused than annoyed about the damage to his AC. 

It was an easy fix, barely a few hours of work. Besides, the aim wasn’t to sabotage LOCKSMITH, it was to catch Freud’s attention. 

He followed the dwindling boot prints until he came to a dead-end… at a glance. He scanned the towering containers, just in case Raven was lying in wait for him up there (happened last time, where the little bastard had jumped on Freud like a rabid monkey and tried strangling him), but there was nothing he could see. However, the dead-end was a wall, and that wall had a ventilation opening, just big enough for someone as small and scrawny as Raven to slither into. 

Said ventilation opening had its grate removed too. 

“Really,” Freud sighed, kneeling down in front of it and shining his torch up there. “How am I meant to fit in there…” 

He could probably squeeze in and have enough space to crawl, but he’d be damned if he encountered a sharp corner. He wasn’t that flexible, and unlike the augmented assholes in the Vespers, Freud was beholden to the march of time. He was in his late thirties, and his joints weren’t as bendy as they used to be. Though, maybe he could-

“Ngh!”

-a sudden weight rammed into his back, and it was only his quick reflexes that stopped him from braining himself against the edge of the ventilation duct. He frantically slammed his forearm against the wall, and pushed back, landing hard on whoever had body slammed into him and hearing that familiar, wheezy grunt of Raven having all the air squashed out of his lungs. It was a very distinct noise.

Cheeky little- he ambushed him!

Grinning ferally, Freud twisted around and tried to get Raven into a headlock, but the smaller mercenary was as slippery as an eel. He dropped his flashlight during the fray, a stray kick sending it spinning and half-blinding him as he wrestled with Raven in the dark. The merc didn’t hold back his punches at all - literally. Freud had to bite back a grunt of pain when Raven full on slugged him in the chest, clearly going for the solar plexus and narrowly missing it - but it left him open in exchange. 

Freud grabbed his arm and twisted it violently, Raven letting out a strained, gasping snarl of pain, and slammed the mercenary face down on the floor. Raven thrashed and squirmed underneath him, even trying to twist around to bite him, but with his arm firmly held against his back, he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Freud was the victor, and he took his rightful throne of sitting on the back of Raven’s thighs as a result. 

“Well…” he panted, winded from that punch. Even if it missed his solar plexus, it still knocked the air out of him, damn. “You got me good for a second there, scavenger bird.” 

Raven hissed at him like a cat. 

“You were hoping to concuss me, hm?” Freud murmured, his blood still running hot but not quite clouding his mind as he thought back to that whole exchange. It would’ve worked. If Freud hadn’t been so quick on his reflexes, he would’ve smashed face first into the wall, leaving him disorientated. Raven would’ve capitalised on that, and…

But, it didn’t quite work out like that. Freud had been that little bit faster, but the ambush had still been pretty good. Freud got a little too complacent. 

“Looks like I won, though.” Freud shifted his weight and, still keeping Raven’s arm twisted behind his back, pressed his body in close, so he could murmur into his ear: “That means I get to decide the penalty.”

Raven didn’t respond or move. His free arm was slightly extended past his shoulders, and the narrow beam of his flashlight shone directly onto his scarred fingers. They were twitching slightly, like Raven was fighting down some sort of response, and Freud couldn’t help but smile. Down but not beaten… if Freud wasn’t careful, Raven might try going for the eyes again. 

Keeping his heavy-lidded gaze on Raven’s twitching fingers, he nosed his dark, half-curled hair before gently biting his ear. The mercenary flinched beneath him, and Freud pressed his half-hard erection against the firm swell of Raven’s ass, grinding languidly. 

Raven’s twitching fingers curled into a loose fist.

#armored core #armored core 6 #v.i freud #621 #vi621 #fanfic #wip rambles #when ur just sitting around and suddenly gripped to write violent pwp #welp here we are #enjoy? #i guess

[sporadicthingcollection]

Prompt: Dad Cad and his kids coming home/caught sneaking home drunk for the first time. They got it from their mom. Hilarity ensues. A hint of walk of shame maybe? 🤔

The Bounty Hunter’s Guide to: Breaking Curfew

Summary: In which the Little Lady stays out a little late, Bambi operates flight machinery under the influence, and Bane nearly wears a rut in the floor.

Pairing: Cad Bane x F!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Rating: General.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, nonconsensual drug use

---

Bane has spent an unhealthy amount of time taming his nervous tics. He's as cool as can be at all times -- no lip biting, no finger tapping, no pattern to his toothpick gnawing. He is completely unreadable in the face of an adversary.

...in the face of two missing kids, however, he might as well be a neon billboard.

His leg joggles. He drums his fingertips together. He bats his toothpick between the corners of his mouth with his tongue.

He wishes you were here and not out burgling trade secrets from an arms manufacturer. You'd know what to do. You're much better with the whole 'kids will be kids' thing. You call it mother's intuition but as far as he's concerned, it's extrasensory.

Like when you let the kids walk to the corner store for the first time. They took a bit too long getting home and he was convinced they'd been kidnapped. Turns out there was construction and they had to take a detour.

Or when they stole his gun belt. He was furious, but you told him to cool it. Turns out they were getting a nicer one made and needed the sizing right.

Somehow, you're always right about these things. He could use that assurance.

Part of him is relieved it's both of them missing and not just the Little Lady. Cold, perhaps, but she's fifty kilos soaking wet and just as pretty as you are. An easy target for an unsavory type.

Bambi, on the other hand, is sixteen years old, already taller than his daddy, and built like an upside down tortilla chip. He’s more than capable of protecting his big sister.

They're probably fine. He knows this. And yet here he sits, bouncing his leg and tapping his fingers and chewing his toothpick. 

Sometimes he wonders when he went so damn soft. Was it when you handed him his son, minutes old and still covered in blood and amniotic fluid? Was it when he first laid eyes on the Little Lady, small and sweet and unmistakably his?

No, it was when he gave you that head start on Nal Hutta, all those years ago. Just moments after he fell ass over teakettle for you.

A hard thunk from the balcony catches his attention. He jumps to his feet, hand hovering above his blaster.

He sneaks over to the door and silently slides it open. He steps out and into the shadows. The sun is just barely peeking over the horizon and there's still plenty of dark to conceal him.

A pale blue light grows brighter, accompanied by angry, slurred muttering. "...piece o' shit railin' an' boots an' fuck-all everythin' everywhere..."

The second voice is more enunciated. “Just shut up and try to stay even.”

A pair of thin hands grab the railing, and the Little Lady hauls herself atop the railing. She reaches downwards, but is rebuffed. Bambi tries to swing a gangly leg over the railing, only to get himself stuck. He taps at his wristcom to deactivate his boots, and the blue glow fades.

Bane watches him try to get over the railing. Slurred words, lack of coordination... The kid's drunk as an acid skunk.

The Little Lady tries to help, but Bambi shoos her away. “ ‘m fine. I can do it--”

“You’re gonna fall and break your neck is what you're gonna do,” she replies.

“ ‘m fine. S’all fine,” he slurs. He gets himself upright enough to straddle the railing. He lets out a dopey giggle. “Heh. Speeder. Nyoom...!”

He starts to tip and the Little Lady darts her hand out to snatch him by the back of the collar. "Shut up before Daddy hears you," she hisses.

And there's his cue. He tosses his toothpick away. "Li'l late fer dat," he says, stepping out of the shadows.

The Little Lady yips in surprise and whirls around. Bambi tries to reach for his blaster, but he's not wearing his holsters and he grabs air. He twists to find them and falls backwards over the balcony without a sound.

The Little Lady's hands fly to her mouth and her eyes go wide. "Oh shit."

Bane touches her shoulder to calm her. He tosses his chin at Bambi rising back over the balcony, a little rattled but no worse for wear.

"I knew it!" His hover is unsteady, and he struggles to keep himself upright. "Yer tryna flip-icide me!"

Bane raises a brow. He watches carefully as Bambi gets up and over the edge, landing in a heap of gangly limbs on the ground. Satisfied that the boy is safe, he turns his attention back to the Little Lady.

"Yer curfew's midnight," he says simply.

She bristles slightly. "It's not my fault!" she says. "He kept wandering off and I had to chase after him." The bristles fade as she crosses her arms. "He's completely zonked. He can barely walk."

Bambi makes a horrific retching noise, and the putrid smell of acid fills the air.

Bane's stomach churns, but he keeps his own dinner down. "Get one of de shitty towels and meet me in de downstairs 'fresher."

---

He feels a bit bad throwing Bambi into a cold shower fully clothed. But it'll wash him off and sober him up enough to function.

At least his whining is funny.

"Why do you hate me," Bambi grumbles, looking for all the galaxy like a kicked puppy.

Bane snickers to himself. "Suck it up."

"You suck it up." Bambi tries to grab a bar of soap -- your citrus-scented one, Bane notices -- only for it to shoot out of his grip. He grabs it again, only for the same thing to happen. He gives Bane a pathetic look. "Soap's broke."

Maker's sake. "Arms up, kid."

Bambi obeys and Bane lifts the shirt up and over his head. Tossing it into the laundry, he grabs the soap and gets to work.

He intends to manhandle the boy a bit. Treat him like everybody else he's had to clean up after a rowdy night out. Rough in his scrubbing and half-ass it enough to make it clear he'd done it begrudgingly. 

But he doesn't.

A gentle touch comes unbidden, the same he used when Bambi was five years old and so sick with virid flu that he couldn't even keep water down. You had put him in the bathtub while you called a doctor, leaving Bane to mind him.

The poor kid was too exhausted to even cry. Just sit there and stare sadly at his little feet, eyes puffy from a lack of sleep, and occasionally retch up nothing.

Bane gave that boy the greatest bath of all time. Used the nicest soap, the softest washcloth, the warmest water. Bambi was dead asleep when the doctor finally showed up, bundled in a fluffy towel and smelling like a rose bush.

But Bambi isn't a baby anymore, and Bane knows this. He just cleans what he has to as gently as he can -- chest, neck, and chin.

Bambi doesn't say a word for a long time. Bane thinks it's out of embarrassment until he actually does speak.

"S'not my fault," he murmurs. "Only had two... But the secon' one wass... Had t’ve been spiked. Hit like a freighter."

"Gotta watch what ya drink, boy."

The retort comes in the form of a snore. Bane looks up to see Bambi's eyes closed and his jaw slack. His chest rises and falls in rhythm.

He can't help but chuckle. Switching off the shower, he leaves the boy to sleep it off.

---

Like you, the Little Lady eats when she's troubled. Also like you, she tends to go for cold cuts straight from the package. Today, it's the capicola.

He catches her mid chew, her eyes going wide as her jaw stops moving. A little spray of green dusts her cheeks, and she swallows. "So ya gonna rip me a new one, or...?"

"Don't see why I should." He peels a slice of the meat from the butcher paper and takes a bite. "Ain't yer fault yer brother got drugged."

She slumps. "It was meant for me," she says quietly. "The guy brought us two beers and I gave Bambi the one meant for me, just in case." She picks at the edge of the paper. "It wasn't right, I know, but the guy was greasy and I couldn't figure out a way to get rid of it and Bambi's got a hundred pounds on me--"

"Yer brother's smarter'n he looks," he says. "He probably knew and did it anyways 'cause he knew he could take it."

The Little Lady lets out a breath like she'd been holding it all night. "You think?"

He nods and eats another slice of capicola. "Ask him in de mornin'," he says. He levels a finger at her. "Regardless, ya owe him one."

She nods. "I know." She examines a slice of meat. "Are you gonna tell Momma?"

"What's it worth to ya?"

The Little Lady narrows her eyes. "You're seriously asking for hush money?"

He gives her a wry smile. "Doesn't have to be money. Could be time, could be a favor..."

"I already owe Bambi a favor," she grumbles. "And I don't like owin' too many people favors at de same time, so I got no choice. How much ya want?"

It always makes him laugh when he sees himself in her. The voice of an old crook, coming from the mouth of a young teenybopper. "Most I'll ask for is yer allowance," he says. "Somethin' like thirty creds?"

She curls her lip, but snatches her purse from its hook and roots through it. She finds the credits and plunks them down on the table. Shoving a piece of capicola into her mouth, she glowers half-heartedly at him as she chews.

He chuckles and pockets the money. "Pleasure doin' business, li'l lady."

"Up yer nose," she grumbles.

He decides to let that one slide.

---

"Catch Us If You Can Masterpost" | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar

#cad bane x reader #cad bane x oc #cad bane #dad bane #catch us if you can #99 problems #irno favara #reader insert #x reader #x oc #star wars #star wars oc #mezerel bane #winrel bane #emberly writes #thanks for the ask!

[squishyapologist]

// im going to start this off by saying that this post will be talking about police brutality, racism, and the death of daunte wright. now, im unfortunately a couple days late to this due to my own mental health issue at the moment and staying off most social media. apologies for that, but i have been educating myself on the current situation and feel educated enough to talk. i like to make sure im not spreading misinformation before i post things like this, because i know that can be almost as damaging as not saying anything at all. 

with all of that said, yet another black man has been murdered by police, and there are once again protests which are being met with police violence.

daunte wright was a 20 year old black man who was pulled over by police on april 11th, and was killed when officer kim potter (who has since resigned along with police chief tim gannon) drew her firearm and shot him once in the chest. 

the officer claimed she mistook her firearm for her taser, and that she hadn’t meant to shoot him, let alone fatally. 

lets talk about why this is a ridiculous defense, and also very likely a flat out lie. 

first of all, the officer in question has over 20 years of police experience, and was responsible for training other officers, and yet she managed to ‘mistake’ her firearm for her taser? if she managed to be an active officer for 26 years and still didn’t pick up on the differences between the weapons she carried, she shouldn’t have been allowed to carry them anyways. that is already negligence and incompetence on the part of the officer.

even if we look past the fact that a glock and a taser weigh and feel differently, there are still multiple differences that should have alerted the officer of her mistake.

her taser was kept on the opposite side of her gun, was bright neon yellow, and her glock has a safety which must be switched off before the discharging of the weapon. not to mention the differences in which a firearm and taser (which again, sat on the opposite side of her belt) are fired, pressure wise.

are we really expected to believe that a 26-year police veteran managed to draw her glock from the opposite side as her taser, switch off the safety, aim, and fire all while still thinking she was holding her taser? disrespectfully, that’s fucking ridiculous. again, if you can’t tell the differences between the weapons you are carrying, you should not be permitted to carry them at all. 

she also broke protocol multiple times during this incident. firing a taser at someone operating a vehicle is not allowed, nor is aiming your taser for someones chest when other, less lethal targets are visible.  

even IF we look past all of that and say that okay, maybe she did make that mistake, that is still manslaughter, and the officer should not only have been fired immediately, but also arrested. instead, she was placed on administrative leave. the fact that she was allowed to resign (the two sentence email in which she did so containing no remorse for the man she had murdered, and only detailing her enjoyment of her job.) peacefully is ridiculous, and once again shows that murder is fine as long as you’re carrying a badge. apparently she is due to be charged, but the fact that it will most likely be a manslaughter charge that she might not even be jailed for is ridiculous, and frankly sickening. 

now, the protests. 

once again, protests have been met with police violence, as well as the national guard being dispatched only a few days in. tear gas and pepper spray were used again protesters despite a restriction against the use of tear gas and chemical irritants being passed by the city council. a rule that was broken by police almost immediately, which honestly, does not surprise me at all. the police are using banned measures to disperse protests, arresting protestors, and a curfew has been put in place which you can now be arrested for violating. these are measures we have seen before in effort to stop protests from happening and suppress the voices of black people who are tired of seeing their community torn apart by cops who think they’re above the law. i will say it again. the police are continuing to use banned measures against protestors. they don’t care about what they’re not allowed to do, they just want to silence you. for those at these protests, be safe. make your voices heard and if you’re white, protect your bipoc friends and fellow protestors. you have privilege, use it. 

what hurts even more is how close this all occurred to the place where the pig who killed george floyd is standing trial. the amount of police violence against black people is genuinely sickening and i can’t imagine how scary and depressing the current state of america must be. if you’re a bipoc, please do take care of yourself during these times. i can’t imagine how damaging this must be to see constantly, and i only wish there was more i could do to help those effected by this violence. 

another thing i feel needs to be addressed is the fact that daunte wright was resisting arrest, and attempting to flee. this has been used by pro-cop people and the right to justify his death. i feel the need to remind people that fleeing, resisting, or otherwise panicking during a high stress situation should not be a death sentence. it is a natural human instinct to attempt to flee or fight when faced with any potentially dangerous situation, and expecting scared, unarmed citizens to remain calm while you allow trained professionals to use the ‘i panicked’ excuse again and again, murder after murder is pure hypocrisy. 

daunte had a warrant out for his arrest (not something the officers were aware of when they pulled him over) but that still does not justify the fact that he was murdered. cops are not judge, jury and executioner. resisting or trying to flee is not an excuse to kill someone. 

i don’t care what excuse the cop, or her boss wants to use. i refuse to believe that she wasn’t aware of which weapon she was holding, and i refuse to believe she holds any remorse for daunte or his family. i think she did what white cops love to do. she murdered a man. a black man who was just scared. the police system is, and always will be a racist system made to oppress people of colour. how many times does this have to happen before people realize that you can’t reform a system that’s rotten to its core. the police are not your friends, and the fact that they continue to break the law that they claim to uphold and get away with it should prove that. they are not on your side, and there is no such thing as a good cop. 

i will be reblogging any resources i can find, and if you would like to contribute please do. feel free to add to this, especially with advice for the protestors or anything i may have missed. however, i will not be engaging in debate or argument with anybody under this post, or on any other post. if you are pro-cop, part of the right, or think that the deaths of black people at the hands of police are acceptable in any way, don’t bother coming anywhere near this post, you will not get the attention or argument you want, you will simply be blocked. 

please direct me towards any petitions, resources, or places to donate so that i can spread them. i can sign petitions however i am unfortunately not in the financial place to donate. i will be spreading places to donate and i will be encouraging those who can do donate, but i do wish i could do more. 

stay safe, and remember, the police aren’t your friends, and there is no excuse for continued police brutality like this. 

take care of yourselves and make your voices heard.

#blm #black lives matter #daunte wright #justice for daunte #justice for daunte wright #tw police brutality #acab #all cops are bastards #racism #no justice no peace

[nozumonagito]

Overwhelmed

Naeleon (Makoto Naegi/Leon Kuwata)

(minor)emotional hurt/comfort fic. cw: yelling, demeaning of self, emotional outbursts. ~2k words

tldr; Leon is very overwhelmed, luckily he has Makoto there to help him

Based on this submission from @naeleon-headcanon-blog

Books? Check. Notebooks? Check. Blankets and a change of clothes? Check and check. Rucksack full of snacks he had stolen from the kitchen? Check!

Everything for operation date night was ready.

Carefully placing everything into his emptied school bag, Makoto slipped it onto his back and stuffed his room key into his pocket. A glance at the clock reassured him that it was only 9:20, there was still half an hour before he had to be heading out. But he had already finished his homework for the night, and there wasn't enough time to get started on a new project… it'd be fine to show up early, he reasoned.

He settled on the thought, locking his door behind him. With a smile on his face he turned to head down the hall, and almost ran straight into Yasuhiro. The clairvoyant was immediately on edge, jumping back from their barely-avoided collision and almost dropping his phone. They stared at each other for a moment, a look of understanding passing between them before the mystic smiled at him. "You gonna tell Taka I'm sneaking out?"

"I won't tell if you don't, Hiro."

The taller laughed, patting his shoulder and wishing him the best before running past him down the stairs. He could faintly hear him meeting up with some upperclassmen in the stairwell before their voices faded away.

Shaking his head, Makoto adjusted his bag and headed down the hall. It was always a little weird walking through the empty halls at night, but he could sometimes hear an exceptionally loud laugh from Mondo's room, or the sound of an anime opening from Hifumi's, and the sliver of light from beneath doors was enough of a reminder that everyone was there. He slowed down as he passed Ishimaru's room, trying to make his footsteps as quiet as possible. He really didn't want to be late for movie night because Taka caught him near curfew again.

But there was no light coming from behind the door, meaning he had either gone to bed early or was somewhere else, and it was enough of a confidence boost to let Makoto hurry the rest of the way to Leon's room. With midterms coming up they hadn't had much time to hang out lately, and he was eager to finally relax together. As he got closer to the door though, he was concerned with what he heard.

"-can't possibly be that fuckin' difficult! Piece of shit!"

There was no doubt it was Leon yelling, and he hesitated by the door. He could hear the distinct thud, thud, thud of something hitting the wall, and could picture the Ultimate throwing a tennis ball against the wall. One of the first years, Ryoma, had given him one after he put a hole in the wall from throwing his baseball at it. Using a softer ball was definitely an improvement, but there were still dents in the wall from the frequency and he could only imagine how it bothered other students.

Was… that why Hiro had left? They shared a wall, and he'd seen the clairvoyant take walks before when his neighbour was stressed, but for him to make plans for the night and leave? How long had Leon been at it?

The cry of "Motherfuc-" broke off into silence as Makoto knocked on the door. The banging against the wall stopped, and it was growing eerily quiet. He waited a few seconds, but when there was no answer he knocked again.

"Leon…?" No answer. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he grabbed the handle. "Hey, I'm coming in, okay?"

The door swung open easily, it was hardly ever locked. Inside, he could see a textbook open on the desk, crumpled balls of paper overflowing from the waste bin next to it. Leon was standing by the chair, tennis ball in hand as he stared down at the book. As he walked in, Makoto couldn't help but notice there was a new dent in the wall by the bed. He set his book bag on the bed slowly, not wanting to startle Leon.

The ball in his hand bulged as he squeezed it, knuckles turning white as his other hand gripped the chair. He hadn't looked up once since he'd walked in the room, but his chest rose and fell quickly, as if struggling to get enough air. "Makoto… 's not a good time…" he mumbled, head turning slightly towards the lucky student. "Gonna need to, uh… cancel tonight..."

Regardless of his words, Makoto sat on the bed, pulling his legs up beneath him. They'd been in this situation before, each time Leon quietly asking him to leave. But he knew better than that, knew that the baseball star would only spiral further if left to his own devices. Instead, he just asked "What happened?"

He could see Leon freeze up, see the tension that coursed through him as his hands twitched, gripping the chair beside him as if it was a lifeline. The tennis ball dropped to the desk, bouncing a little against others in a bowl. "...Homework. Was tryin' to get it done before you came over, but I-" he broke off, running a hand through his hair.

Frustration was worming it's way into his voice. "Was tryin' to do these math problems but every time I start I fuck it up!" His voice was growing louder, frustration turning into anger as he grabbed a ball from the bowl and tossed it between his hands. "It shouldn't be this fuckin' difficult, right?! I mean, what the hell! Chi can do this shit in his sleep, and I can't even do one problem without fucking it up!"

Makoto's eyes darted to the ball, quickly returning to his face to show he was paying attention. The redhead's face was twisted in a sneer, and his eyes were focusing on nothing in specific, looking through whatever was in his line of sight. "Doesn't Chihiro usually help you with math?" he asked quietly, watching his classmate pace from one end of the room to another.

"Yeah, usually. He had some dumbass council thing tonight, asked if I could do it myself. Told him yeah, what the hell else would I tell 'im?!" Leon groaned loudly, running a hand through his hair again as he turned on his heel and paced back the way he just came. "Dude takes time out of his day to help me out all the time, can't just tell him no! Figured we'd done enough that I could manage one night on my own. It's just one night! Just three fuckin' problems! I shouldn't have this much fuckin' trouble-"

"Leon, wait, that's-!"

"-With an easy ass REMEDIAL CLASS!!" The baseball whizzed through the air regardless of Makoto's warning, hitting the lamp on his nightstand dead center and sending it crashing to the floor. Both boys stopped to look at it, the light flickering from behind the broken lampshade. "SHIT!!" Leon smacked his head, covering his eyes as he tried to calm himself down. "Can't believe I just did something so fucking stupid!!"

"Don't beat yourself up, you didn't-" Makoto started to say, but stopped himself as he saw Leon stop pacing and pull at his hair, eyes squeezed shut.

"Stupid! Stupid stupid stupid!!"

"Leo-"

"STUPIDSTUPIDSTUPIDSTUPIDSTUPIDSTUPID!!!"

A gentle hand resting on Leon's arm made his eyes snap open, watery grey eyes searching Makoto's face desperately. He led the baseball player to the bed slowly, sitting him down and grabbing a thermos from his bag to offer him a drink. "Here, take a sip" he spoke softly, his hand never leaving his arm as he squeezed it reassuringly.

Leon took a long sip, taking a shuddering breath like he had forgotten how to breathe. He was practically hyperventilating, tears streaking their way down his face and Makoto sat beside him, making Leon look at him. "Hey, it's okay, I'm right here. Can you count with me? 10… 9… 8…" Quietly, Leon's voice joined his own, continuing with him down to one.

Squeezing his arm, Makoto took the thermos from his shaking hands, setting it on the nightstand. "There we go… Can you tell me what day it is?"

"...Wednesday."

"Where are we?"

"...Hope's Peak."

"What's your talent?"

"....Fuckin' baseball."

"Who am I?"

Leon's breathing had started to calm down, blinking as he looked slowly up at his companion. "Koto… my boyfriend…"

Makoto gave him a gentle smile, nodding his head and taking shaking hands into his own. His fingers ran over the decorative rings his boyfriend was still wearing, and he felt Leon grip his hands like he'd disappear. "Yep, I'm right here for you. Always."

It wasn't the first time Leon had had an overload in front of him, and it certainly wouldn't be the last, but he knew the boy was afraid of scaring him off. The first time he'd thrown something in front of him, Leon had avoided him for a week, paranoid that he wouldn't want to be around him anymore. Makoto would be lying if he said it wasn't concerning, but he was determined to understand, setting aside time to sit down privately with Leon and talk to him about it.

He was easily overwhelmed if he felt he wasn't good enough at something, and his relying on baseball to get him through school had meant he never really learnt how to study. Now that he was in Hope's Peak, surrounded by people who were all experts in their field, he was finding it harder and harder not to get angry at himself when he couldn't do something. Usually he could push the feeling inside, but it would keep building and building until he couldn't keep pushing it down, and if something particularly difficult happened, or he heard too many of what he labelled as "bad sounds", or he was having an off day, his brain would go into an overload and he'd shut down, unable to control his anger at himself.

This was something that Makoto was sort of familiar with, as too much stimuli or conflicting sounds could send him into a sensory overload, and he could relate on some level. He didn't get angry, like Leon did, but he'd had his fair share of crying sessions in his dorm after a particularly difficult day with stimuli. He'd made extra-sure that Leon knew what he experienced was valid, and reassured him that he wasn't scared. Since that day, he'd caught Leon on the verge of breaking a few times, and once in the middle of an episode. Each time he sat down and helped him work through it, reassuring him that he wasn't stupid or an idiot like he claimed.

"Why do you keep helping me, Koto?" Leon asked suddenly, his face buried in Makoto's hair as he held him close. His voice was barely above a whisper, cracking as he spoke. "Nothing makin' you deal with me when I'm like... this… hell, half the time I'm yelling at you to leave. Why bother?"

Makoto hugged him tightly, pressing a chaste kiss to his shoulder. "Because you're worth it, Leon... I wish you could see that."

He felt him laugh, but there was no humour behind it. The loud student was tired, having worn himself out emotionally. He leaned back against the wall, pulling Makoto with him. There was a moment of silence as they situated themselves, neither one wanting to destroy the comfortable silence they found themselves in.

"...I love you, man."

Though his eyes were closed, he could practically hear the smile in Makoto's voice. "Love you too, Leon."

#thanks for letting me use this prompt man #totally didnt use this as a vent piece after a frustrating day /lh #sorry if the formatting is atrocious im not used to writing directly on tumblr #also not mentioned but uhh implied are my personal headcanons of autistic Makoto and ADHD Leon so yeah #based this off my own meltdowns/overloads a bit #nagi writes #crossposting this to my writing blog later-

[stxrmapper]

The night was dark, a certain haze falling over the City Streets of a serial killer, leading most people to stay inside anymore. Cars were distant in times when they passed, and sounded like they were speeding. A curfew had been set, and police were holding it carefully.

The trees around the Apartment had been rustling all night with some wind, a promise of a storm that hadn't come to pass yet. Nemo was gone on holidays.

There was the bustle of a group of girls down the hallway, definitely drunk with the uneven steps and all-too loud voices, with a male voice behind them calling if they needed help. Altogether, the apartment seemed normal at the late hour. Just a few minutes before 11...

The shrieking of the phone cut through the relative calm of the night, the landline that all the apartments kept buzzing. The operator at the bottom must have patched someone through. No caller id on the screen. Unknown. And yet... the voice on the phone was deep. Raspy.

"What's your favorite scary movie?"

Felix had fallen asleep on the couch, so most of the noise around him was lost. But the phonecall that sliced through the blissful unawareness of sleep certainly startled him. He jolted upright, hair a mess as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. Who the fuck was calling at this time? The whole curfew thing didn't matter to Felix honestly. He believed he was above it, anything happened to him and there'd be a whole lot of trouble on the person who did it's back.

Picking up the phone with a confused sounding, "Hello?" Felix was not amused by the question. "Scary movie? Hah, sorry man, you have the wrong fuckin' guy, I hate 'em. Now stop callin' me. Unless you woke me up for some fun~" He didn't wait for an answer before hanging up.

Ugh. Fuckin' losers. Who even prank called anymore? Shame though, he might've entertained some fun. Felix just wanted to sleep.

#living a life as normal as i can. which is to say not very | scout au #shrike | dredgenshrike #ic #ask answered

[missinghan]

「 what am I // stray kids 」

❖ genre : sci-fi; superpower au; platonic relationship au

❖ word count : 3,9k (bullet points only)

❖ warning : explicit language, most likely ain’t scientifically true at all

❖ summary : superpowers manifest in certain individuals once they hit puberty and naturally, those odd abilities will vanish as soon as adulthood occurs; but how will those teenagers protect themselves from the curiosity of science?

❖ a/n : this isn’t a proper fic since I don’t think I’ll actually write smth decent out of this but I don’t want the idea to rot inside my dungeon either- so yea, bear with me through this character intro post(?)

— bang chan ↠ locating ability-wielders & teleportation

· sometimes when he’s running errands for his parents, chan can feel a distinct ‘zing’ ins his bones if someone else with unusual abilities is nearby and can describe their power perfectly to the t; he ignores it at first but learns to make do with it eventually; can teleport another person with him and also needs to calculate carefully before teleporting because he once ends up in the middle of a freeway instead of school resulting from lack of sleep.

· looks intimidating but is the first to talk to a new kid in class and show them around as he’s president of the school’s student council; smiles and laughs a lot once you get to know him, and is also very caring, reliable.

· he wishes to apply for a music production company after his college graduation but his family turned the idea down almost immediately and sent him to a boarding school in Europe.

· chan starts taking notice in strange things at his new school after the first few weeks; for example: how they unreasonably force students to have a daily health checkup, how their food taste like medicine most of the times, teachers don’t really seem to care about what they’re teaching and some of his classmates mysteriously ‘move away’ whenever security shows up at their dorm in the middle of the night.

· after finding out where they actually are via photos of students being locked up inside cells, arms and legs chained up like domestic animals, injected with odd substances on a daily basis which were taken by an anonymous individual, chan secretly packs his stuff and decides to ditch this so-called boarding school for good.

· he works hard to hide his identity ensuing flying back to his hometown for a solid three weeks and the fact that there are more people cursed with supernatural abilities begins dawning onto him; cutting off contact with his family completely, moving from one crusty apartment to another every month, chan tackles this crazy idea of assembling a group consisted of extraordinary people to give him a hand with creating a safe environment for the ‘gifted’ youths.

— lee minho ↠ collapse

· law major, quite the loner, raised by a single mother; didn’t have much since little but his mother’s love and affection make up for everything.

· looks intimidating, is actually intimidating; the only person he talks to in college is his dance coach, doesn’t like school nor has many friends; his slightest glare is as cold as a wife trying to win custody of her children in court.

· minho can make his surroundings crumble and fall apart with his mind, which shouldn’t be confused with telekinesis since he can’t physically move objects to his will; this deadly power is triggered whenever he’s experiencing extremely negative emotions like fear or anguish and he’s not (still isn’t) very good at getting a hold of it.

· a group of suspicious men shows up at his house one day as he returns home from dance practice; they claim to be an agency looking for up and coming talents but by the way that his mother is staring at the ground nervously with her legs trembling, his institution tells him that something’s off.

· he firmly declines their offer with a stiff “I’m uncertain that I’m the talent you gentlemen are looking for, but you should know that when the cops are here to fill out their reports, I’m gonna be very helpful, as helpful as possible.”

· “what other random merry of fucking misdemeanors are going to pop up once they go through your records? domestic violence? illegal substances and weapons possession? human trafficking?”

· with a gun to her head, his mom scrambles to her knees and begs him to go with them, admitting that she’s already signed the contract; if he follows their orders and agrees to become an experimental subject, she won’t have to worry about any financial problems for the rest of her life.

· in the heat of the moment, they ultimately force him to activate his power for the very first time; as a result, his house collapses, the death of his only family and the group of men following suit.

· “I’m too late.”

· chan manages to find minho under the aftermath, severely injured and is hanging by a string of life so fragile that can only be saved after undergoing a twelve-hour operation at the hospital.

— seo changbin ↠ sound waves manipulation

· a good student, reputable within his social sphere at school, and comes from a pretty well-off family.

· changbin is able to bend and control sound waves to his advantage; whether it’s simply for his musical instruments or moving objects around, he can also use something as minor as his own heartbeat when he’s emotionally unstable; using the ability continuously for too long can give him severe migraines and potentially damage his brain to a degree if he’s not mindful of it.

· he stays up late at night to write and produce his own songs, keeping it a secret from his parents; posts his own songs on a SoundCloud account, or performs even live at a random underground club under the alias SpearB if he has the chance to.

· an organization full of outlaw scientists comes across a video of his performance on the web, analyzing how he can enhance the beat, his vocal cords without the help of any form of technology, and just like that, he easily tops the list of their targets.

· having no choice but to do what they want when those men hold his parents hostage inside his family’s mansion, changbin gets sent to the same boarding school as chan but they’re being observed in different buildings for his power is on the more useful and dangerous side; hence, his classes consist of a smaller amount of students and they are put through checkups more constantly.

· he doesn’t really pay attention to the skepticisms that reek off all over the place as he’s too busy being homesick and studying because he fully believes that the harder he works, the more obediently he acts, the sooner they’ll let him go; all hell breaks loose when those photos are scattered everywhere, from the hallways to the bathrooms; changbin takes advantage in the riot to get himself out of there as quickly as he can possibly run to the airport.

· changbin swears to never trust anyone again until chan and minho find him sleeping inside an abandoned grocery store with a pistol inside his sleeping bag, two daggers concealed in his sleeves at all times.

· “are we seriously going to contain some headass who was this close to blowing my brain out of my head?”

· “huh, funny, last time I checked, you almost smothered me to death under a gigantic block of cement when I was trying to save your life.”

· “who are you guys and how the hell did you get in here? I don’t recall not locking the door.”

— hwang hyunjin ↠ permeation & memory manipulation

· a true theater kid, meaning he knows almost everyone but every single student at school knows him; naturally, becomes the Prince after playing one too many male lead roles because of his godly features; rather well-mannered and diligent though he doesn’t look like it.

· mistaken to be a player by every new batch of freshmen that only ever gets to watch him practicing his lines from afar, swooning tremendously whenever he ties up his hair; always carries a camera around, doesn’t like to have too many friends but if you get close enough, he’s probably the most fun to be around, won’t ever judge your questionable life choices.

· hyunjin’s ability allows him to walk right through walls as well as any other solid matters but it will drain his stamina painstakingly, causing him to run short on breaths after using his power to change his costumes faster between scenes; the thicker the wall is, the more strength it takes for him to pass through completely.

· he can also erase a certain chunk of memory from someone’s mind but he needs to physically touch them; has only used this ability one time to wipe his existence out of a childhood best friend’s mind before moving away from his hometown. 

· his interest in photography sparks the moment his uncle comes back from a business trip and gives him a toy camera, it’s nowhere near the real ones but the ten-year-old hwang hyunjin sure takes it very, very seriously; after a decade or so, he has replaced it with cameras that actually work and developed quite the talent for taking photos of sceneries and people (jisung is his number one victim but he can’t care less as long as he looks decent and that hyunjin won’t save any crack ones to blackmail him).

· suddenly gets a sketchy summer scholarship to a boarding school in London (the same so-called school that Chan and Changbin went to), his mom encourages him to go after looking it up on the internet without knowing the chances of her own son being exploited for twisted science is shockingly high.

· and the culprit who takes those photos during a wandering around school after curfew is none other than hyunjin himself; he knows damn well posting those photos means getting himself into trouble but heck, his conscience forbids him to leave this hell-on-earth place without alerting these innocent people.

· so the night before those photos are spread everywhere, in every corner, every edge of the building, hyunjin smashes his camera completely with a baseball bat and burns the broken bits in the school backyard; he tries getting through those sleep-deprived men in their fifties who aren’t likely paid enough with his ability and flees.

· surprisingly, he comes rushing into his best friend’s house right after his horrendous flights only to find him being surrounded by three mysterious men.

— han jisung ↠ plunder

· the jokester of the class, takes great joy in stressing the living daylights out of his professors with irrational questions that aren’t necessarily relevant to the lesson, procrastinates, and sleeps through lessons like there’s no tomorrow but still keeps that shiny ‘A’ on his report card nonetheless.

· being friends with hyunjin results in occasional admirers here and there for him but he does kinda have his own fandom base after being pulled upstage out of the blue in the middle of last year’s spring music festival, musing him an opportunity to show off his rapping skills; because of that event, he takes writing music more seriously with the stage name J.One.

· if jisung is being honest, he hardly uses his power since it’s basically taking over anyone’s body and mind for a maximum of five seconds meanwhile his own body is immobile; and if any physical effects occur (for example, a basketball hits him on the head spontaneously), he’s obligated to endure that pain for that person until they become conscious of their own body again.

· he’s not a creep, he swears.

· and who knows? what if his body gets kidnapped within those five seconds?

· hyunjin and jisung know about each other’s ability but don’t really discuss nor talk about them because they don’t find walking through walls or temporarily possessing someone’s body cool.

· well, that’s that until chan, minho and changbin show up at his house the same day when hyunjin returns from his summer exchange program with a cut lip and bruised knuckles. 

· “han jisung, you’re going to have to come with us unless you want to live inside a cage for the rest of your life.”

· “I’m sorry, are you threatening me?”

· “we’re trying to protect you, smartass, you’re far too dangerous to be roaming the streets so freely.”

· “....me? I’m dangerous?”

· jisung not knowing the slightest bit about his own ability downright baffles chan—he’s only scratched the surface of it at this point; his true potential is if he’s taking over another ability-wielder’s body, he will then take their power for himself; and jisung can’t remember the last time he properly uses it either.

— lee felix ↠ imperfect invisibility

· initially lives in Australia but after finding out about his ability, he moves to Seoul with his parents to live a quieter, more covered-up life without being surrounded by too many relatives.

· an absolute sweetheart, smart, kind, honest, a little slow to read in between the lines at times; can concentrate relatively well on an empty stomach, but gets drowsy quickly after eating, especially big meals. 

· lix is also homeschooled up until high school in order to avoid any unwanted situation; later on, applies for a course that can be taken online for the most parts at an average-ish university to not draw so much attention. 

· since he stays at home most of the time, he spends lots of time playing different video games, experiences random cooking recipes without burning the house down, and teaches himself how to dance through online tutorials, getting awfully good at it fast partially thanks to his natural flexibility.

· he can disappear from a single person’s field of vision for as long as he wants to but it’s still limited and considered flawed since felix can only disappear from the sight one person of his choice at a time; although it can come in quite handy whenever he gets shoved into a dark alleyway by random people varying from cheap pickpockets with a box-cutting knife to muscular men dressed in black.

· learns boxing during middle school so he can still kick asses to preserve his own life.

· felix once punches jisung in the gut and slaps hyunjin in the face with a cabbage after seeing them follow each and every one of his movements the moment he steps out of the supermarket—he’s got used to listening to people’s footsteps over time. 

· “okay, first of all, ow, and second of all, why did I get the punch and he got the cabbage?!”

· “oh, don’t be such a baby.”

· “you two don’t look like those balding dudes in money-dripping black suits...what are you on? crack? what do you want from me? money? food?”

· “of course we’re not balding men in their forties! I take personal offense to that! and please, who do you take me as? a total creep who only ever knows how to follow people with his stupid sidekick tagging along for background noises?”

· “HEY! I NEVER AGREED TO BE YOUR SIDEKICK!”

· “well, it’s time you fucking did then, han.”

· “you know, I suppose this is the part where you two put me to sleep with some kind of drug and bring me back to your excuse of a headquarter.”

· “oh, did you bring the anesthetic pills?”

· “I thought Changbin gave it to you, no?”

— kim seungmin ↠ time-leap

· born in a middle-class family, very studious but also enjoys playing baseball during retreats, takes time to open up to people so he has more acquaintances than close friends but he doesn’t mind, that way he has more time for himself. 

· definitely and never will be the kid who lets his classmates take advantage of his wit, he does do a good chunk of every group project but makes sure everyone has at least one decent thing to do (low-key loves bossing people around); can be pretty distant at first, but he just weirds people out after getting closer and doesn’t hold grudges.

· seungmin is capable of bringing himself back to a specific past event to alter the future outcome though it won’t work most of the time unless he really, really has to for safety purposes or the situation gets out of hands; time-leaping won’t activate if he wants to retake a test but works like a charm when he tries to save a kid on the street from a car accident.

· actually does deep, proper research into other ability-wielders and often stays in school during nighttime to read the news, articles or anything that he can find on the web to learn about how that one cryptic boarding school in Europe that’s accused of abusing their students got shut down all of a sudden, the students never return and family members never bother to look for them. 

· hence, he adapts to hiding his ability and himself fairly well—never takes the late-night buses, doesn’t try to become close and bond with other people, asks his parents to change the door lock every month, burns bills each time he purchases something but he tries not to go out as much as possible. 

· seungmin has seen hyunjin use his power once by accident but decided to say nothing about it; eventually finds chan’s headquarter (which is just his crusty apartment) by following jisung and hyunjin after their practice hour, baffles them all a little but joins in no time. 

· after asking hyunjin to erase his parents’ memory about himself, seungmin gives everyone a hand for their plan of building a school and campus, completely safe and under the radar for other ability welders until their adolescence is over; he time-leaps back to back in order to collect as much information about lottery tickets as he can.

· another flaw occurs when he travels to the past for the third time: his eyesight gets weaker and weaker every time he time-leaps so he starts wearing glasses as a temporary resolution but chan stops him when he tries to do it for the fifth time, saying that they would rather work hard for a little longer than have seungmin lose his vision forever. 

· after over a year or so, they successfully repurchase an education organization and officially establish an exclusive academy for ability-wielders, reaching out to those individuals before scientists can get a hold of them. 

— yang jeongin ↠ superhuman speed

· the quiet kid who most likely won’t talk unless the teacher asks him to answer a question or someone tells him to let them copy his homework; has his earbuds in most of the time to pretend he can’t hear what people are saying so he won’t have to interact with them. 

· joins after you when chan finds him hitting a wall head-on at an abnormal speed while trying to save a kitten in the middle of the streets. 

· jeongin has extremely enhanced agility and reflexes but he still lacks accuracy for he is naturally a clumsy person; therefore, changbin tells him to wear a protective layer under his uniform so even in the worst-case scenario, he can jump off a building and make it out with minor scratches. 

· reluctantly buys lunch for every member of the student council (aka 00 liners + you) on a daily basis although he can’t really see which kind of sandwiches he’s grabbing at and they end up being mushy most of the time. 

· and for those people who say his resting face is scary, he’s mainly just frustrated because of his friends. 

· also usually is the one who returns with the most injuries because of his own ability—he always flees like his life depends on it to save jisung’s ass from being hit by a truck and hyunjin’s camera from being crushed (the sole purpose of the student council will be explained more thoroughly later).

· has single-handedly saved everyone inside a bookstore when a sudden fire breaks out. 

· minho scolds him and felix a lot for spending too much time at the arcade after school instead of doing their required tasks. 

· acts all tough and mature since he’s the youngest of the squad, loves to make fun of jisung for his height but still is and probably will always be a complete child who hates eating vegetables with a passion; gets yelled at a lot whenever there’s a BBQ party since he only ever eats meat. 

· “corn? why are we raiding the Asian market for corn at one AM?”

· “an outdoor, wholesome BBQ isn’t complete without corn, duh.”

· “do you want to get us caught?!”

· “oh please, they’re going to show up either way.”

· “YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE!”

— y/n (reader) ↠ telepathic manipulation

· president of the student council, stubborn, slightly less bossy than seungmin, appears to be apathetic and cranky mainly because you can’t sleep that well; with that being said, you don’t feel too tired during ungodly hours when people are tossing around in the comfort of their bed but snap at irritating people a lot in the morning if they’re making too much noise. 

· your ability allows you to control people to your will, from something as meaningless as slamming their head through a wall to life-threatening actions like forcing them to point a knife at their own throat; it’s somewhat similar to jisung’s power though you don’t have to physically feel what your target is going through and you don’t need to worry about taking over their body.

· the only downside to it is that you easily fall asleep the moment you set your target free.

· minho is the one who gets you out of the laboratory where your parents were working on a huge, secret project about individuals with supernatural abilities for an unknown organization; you’re unfortunate enough to become their first-ever experimental subject which only nourishes resentment slowly, gnawing at your sanity while you’re dreading each day behind those cold metal bars. 

· perhaps joining the student council is what makes your life less depressing, perhaps; you’re far too busy facepalming at the beautiful monstrosity of their friendship and feeding them ensuing returning to the dorm after school since those boys only know how to eat, cooking is too much for them to comprehend (albeit felix).

· when your family was still… normal, your parents sent you to martial art classes every weekend so like felix, you don’t actually need your power to save yourself from some random mobsters on the streets.

· you’re also the only person who eats vegetables properly and even tries to incorporate more fiber into their diets but as always, they never listen, especially hyunjin when it comes to green onions.

· don’t have the best reputation in the academy because the idea of letting the new girl with a seemingly useless ability become president of the student council isn’t very appealing to many people, and it doesn’t help when every member of the council is exclusively allowed to drop out in the middle of a class to ‘collect’ any ability-wielders that chan manages to locate that day since he’s always worn out with changbin and minho from boring paperwork as well as other businessy stuff.

· even when your ability is considered almost perfect, you’ve only used it once when you thought minho was going to sell you off to another place and almost made him put a bullet through his own brain; you’ve refrained yourself from using it since that day.

#skzwritersclub #inkidz #stayshub #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfic #bang chan #bang chan imagines #lee minho #lee minho imagines #seo changbin #seo changbin imagines #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin imagines #han jisung #han jisung imagines #lee felix #lee felix imagines #kim seungmin #kim seungmin imagines #yang jeongin #yang jeongin imagines #skz x reader #skz x you

[ecto-american]

DannyMay 2019 themed story, I’m not late I’m just going my own pace pls be nice to me

Ectoplasm | Broken | Glass | Theory | Community | Eavesdropping | Worldbuilding | Accident | History | Or Read on AO3. | Shoutout to bibliophilea for betareading

Day 11: Shapeshift

"It's going to be a long night."

Those words never rang truer for Maddie, who simply nodded in response. Dr. Carrington flipped through her notes as she jotted down the latest updates before she began to shuffle papers around in the file. It took very little time to do progress notes. Not a whole lot could be documented about Danny, or well Phantom. What was there to record? Nothing that could be comparable to a human. Was Danny still human?

Maddie watched her son as he idly doodled on his board as the doctor did her duties. She could recognize the vague shape of a spaceship and some related doodles as he sketched wildly out of obvious boredom. What was Danny even considered? Was he human? Would it be actually worthwhile to test his vitals? Why did he look like this?

"Buuut we're pretty much all set. In a half-hour, I'll be back, and we'll get you prepped for surgery," the doctor spoke cheerfully, clicking her pen before putting it back in her coat pocket. "Do you have any questions? Danny?"

Danny's head snapped to attention, and he shook his head. She nodded.

"Alrighty, then when I come back, we can finally get you all fixed up." She smiled warmly at him, and Danny nodded eagerly. "And Maddie, you're still going to join?"

"Yes," she replied quickly, ignoring the instant terrible feeling. Operating on Danny...No. She had to make sure everything went alright in this situation.

"Good, then I'll see you in a bit!"

The door closed, and Maddie sighed softly. She began to dig through the bag Jack had left with her. Chargers, her kindle, Jazz's kindle, Jack's tablet, a notebook and pencils. He had also packed some fudge cookies and chips for them. She noticed some glass bottles of green liquid, and she curiously pulled them out. They looked nothing like what she had in the lab, and the tape on them labelling them was nothing like she typically used. Ecto-Dejecto Energy Drink. She turned them in her hand, listening to Danny's marker squeak.

Danny's board nudged her shoulder, and she glanced over to read what he had written.

My Greenbull!

Greenbull? Danny wiped off the board with his forearm before writing more. She turned the vial around in her hand, hoping for some kind of details to be written somewhere. Nothing.

"What is this?" she asked aloud, and Danny held up a finger before continuing to write.

Maddie glanced at the labelling again. Ecto-Dejecto? That was what she and Jack had used before to weaken a ghost, to make it easier to fight them. Did Jack accidentally bring some along? Danny nudged her again, and her eyes scanned his sloppy writing.

Your ecto dejecto had opposite effect so it makes ghosts stronger, I changed it so it's an energy drink. It helps me stay a ghost longer. Jazz knows where I keep it.

"You modified our Ecto-Dejecto?" Maddie was surprised. Danny nodded, and he wiped the board to write more. "Danny, just the fact that you were able to successfully modify our formula is amazing. How come." She cut herself off. How come her son was failing chemistry when he could make this with no guidance?

Because Phantom was seen all hours of the day and night fighting ghosts. During school hours. During bedtime. Past curfew. That's where Danny always was. Hunting ghosts. Fighting them. Getting hurt. Ending up in the hospital so badly injured that he practically lost half of his teeth. And if her math was correct, her understanding of a possible timeline...just about the time Danny began to flunk was when Phantom began to show up.

Yeah, I can't stay a ghost too long, and all the ghost hunting really exhausts me. I drink this to give me a boost to help me. Tuck helped, we call it Greenbull.

Phantom was seen all hours of the day and night fighting ghosts. He showed up to nearly every ghost incident to fight. To the point that Jack and Maddie happily began to let Phantom take on the ghosts, especially during the later hours. From their observations, he was only interested in fighting other ghosts. "Let them tire each other out," she remembered telling Jack. She had been letting her son take on the slack and responsibility that she was supposed to have done. To the point that he was chugging a homemade energy drink that he had to engineer himself to keep himself going because taking a break wasn't really an option. Maddie was a terrible mother.

Wait.

"Tucker knows?" she asked. Danny flinched, and he nodded. He jotted on the board something she already guessed.

Sam too.

He told his friends over her and Jack? Well, made sense. They were all very close. But she was his mom. If he had told her, she could have helped him. She could have fixed this. She could have taken the ghost powers away or found a way to remove the ghostlyness. But by now, his ghostly form had to be stable after having shifted and such for so long. It was likely too late to do anything now.

"When did you tell them?" she wondered. The marker hovered hesitantly over the board before quickly writing.

They were there.

There for what? How did this even...The portal. It had to be. There had to be no other way. Nothing else they could have made or produced would result in something like this, in this weird ghostly powers. And Danny lied to her. He lied to her face about where he was when the portal had apparently flickered to life while she and Jack were out of the house. That the portal had turned on when nobody was home. But how did it happen? She needed to know. Her mind was racing with all the things that could have gone wrong, the many possibilities. How could this entire situation even be real? How could she even be assured that Phantom was telling the truth? What if this was a big lie? No, no. Jazz wouldn't have gone along with it. Jazz had to have known. Her behavior, her reactions. She knew. This was Danny. This was her brother. This was her son.

"What happened?" she whispered. Danny shook his head, wiping off the board and leaning back into the pillows. Right. Right...now was not a good time to discuss this. Phantom, her son?, his face was still swollen, and the IV of medicine was slowly dripping. The only thing keeping him pain-free. Because she failed to do anything to help keep him safe. She was nearly doing the opposite come to…

She leaned into him a bit, reaching out to gently stroke his hair comfortingly. His hair didn't feel like it had been bleached or dyed. This was natural. But how? Could Danny shapeshift? How the hell did she not know about this? Danny looked at her with such a content, yet exhausted look. Now that she knew...how could she have suspected nothing? All she could see now when staring at the ghost boy was how much he resembled her only son. What kind of mother didn't recognize her own child like that? Even if he was...

What else had he not told her?

Danny pointed to the glass vial in her hand, and Maddie glanced at it before looking back to him. He made a drinking motion, and she took the cap off before letting him have it. Danny glanced at the bottle, and he quickly threw his head back, pouring the contents into his mouth quickly. Maddie winced at the half-choked coughing and struggles to swallow before Danny finally handed her an empty bottle back. He wheezed a bit but smiled, giving a thumbs up. Did this work that quickly?

The Ecto-Dejecto, like everything they made, was meant to only work on ghosts. No wonder they always targeted Danny. Or was it? Was Danny a ghost? Did Danny...die?

She froze completely at that idea as she watched Danny take up doing more doodles. More spaceships and stars. Was she that neglectful of a mother that she didn't notice her own son passing away? What else could he be? Did Danny die, and she didn't notice? How could he look so differently when masquerading as Phantom? Was this his true form now? Did Danny die?

This wasn't the time to discuss that. Not when Danny couldn't even say a single word. But she could feel her hands begin to shake. Did her child die without her even noticing? What kind of fucking mother could not notice that? Ghosts could shapeshift. And there was still so much unknown about death. Did Danny have to force himself to shapeshift into what he used to look like so he could be around? So that she would continue to love him or something? Didn't he know that she'd love him no matter what? Why was he even around if he had died? How, why, what.

"Danny, did you die?" It came out so quietly and softly. Her son stared at her with wide, frightened and confused eyes.

She could see Danny visibly swallow anxiously. It did nothing to help her own worries. He slowly wiped away his doodles, and once presented with a blank slate, he began to write. Slowly. Constantly stopping to briefly wipe away the words and rethinking. Maddie could do nothing but stare intensely as she waited for an answer.

A knock interrupted them, and Dr. Carrington came into the room with a smile, followed by a nurse.

"Hey, we can finally get this show on the road," she chirped cheerfully.

They walked up, and Danny absentmindedly handed Maddie the board and markers. They began to shift to where they could move the hospital bed. Maddie paid little mind as she read over what Danny had begun to write. All that was written was

The portal

Her worst fears were confirmed, and she hated it. She stayed painfully quiet as she wiped the board, shoving it into the backpack along with the markers. It stuck out the top, and she left it on the chair. Maddie not only was so oblivious that she had missed that her own child had died, but was so neglectful that she was the reason he had died.

"Just to avoid some drama, we're gonna sheet you again, okay? Standard procedure like we been doing," one of the nurses told Danny, and he gave a thumbs up. She smiled warmly at him, pulling his sheets over his head to hide the ghost from any possible publicity. This had to remain as quiet as possible.

Maddie pocketed two more vials of the homemade energy drink as she began to follow the others in a fog. What kind of mother...what kind of person could miss...would be oblivious… Her eyes welled with tears. A horrible mom wouldn't have noticed, too busy in the lab looking for ways to destroy ghosts instead of being a good mom who was active in her son's life. Where did she go wrong? When did she begin failing as a parent? What did she do to make her son believe that he had to keep this from her?

They wheeled him into the surgical room without incident.

"Come get some scrubs and wash up," Dr. Carrington instructed Maddie, motioning for her to follow.

"Alright. I have something that should help Phantom while we're operating," Maddie said, and she held up the vials. Dr. Carrington smiled.

"Perfect!" she chirped. "What's its purpose?"

"It boosts his power, meaning it should also boost any healing effects and keep him stable," she replied. At least, that was the impression she got from Danny. Dr. Carrington simply nodded. "We can mix it into the IV bag."

"Sounds good. Let's get washed, and then you can do just that."

Maddie took a deep breath. For the first time in her life, it was giving her anxiety to, essentially, dissect a ghost in some capacity. Hopefully Danny wouldn't shapeshift back. Is that how this worked? This night was going to burn into the mother's memory forever for all the wrong reasons.

She slowly washed up and donned her gifted scrubs, anxiously following Dr. Carrington into the room. Danny was still awake for now, nodding and confirming things with the surgeon.

A version of her biggest dream was here. Surrounded by a company of doctors about to operate on Amity Park's greatest menace, discovering his unique biology and being able to contribute to her field of study. But this was nightmare fuel of the highest degree, and she felt sick. She was regretting not asking Jack to do this. It wasn't too late to-oh yeah it was. It was so late for everything. Just everything.

"Maddie do you wanna get the IV set up with Nurse Sanchez? She can help you mix in your stuff."

"I can," was all Maddie could bring herself to say. Her mouth felt so dry. She went over to the nurse.

"You can just give it to me," the nurse told her. Maddie didn't argue, and she handed the vials over. She hoped it would be enough to keep Danny's...form like this. The nurse thanked her, and she set to work.

Maddie found herself standing right over Danny as he stared off to the side. Towards the tray of medical tools, with anxiety written clearly on his features. She lightly stroked his hair, and he glanced up at her.

"I'll be here the whole time," she said. Though at this point, was it a threat or a comfort?

The later it thankfully seemed, as Danny visibly perked up and nodded. He held his hand up, and she took it, giving it a light squeeze as her heart sank a bit. How could she be here, doing this? Could she just get through this pretending he was only Phan-no. No. No, no, no. She couldn't do that. Not anymore. Not just blindly pretend. This was her son, and a possible chance to finally do something good for him as a mother.

She watched his IV bag get changed out, and she prayed that the mix kept him together. Prevented this secret from becoming exposed. The new mixture soon was slowly dripping in.

"Alright, Danny, we're ready to get started," the anesthesiologist spoke, and Danny let go of his mom's hand. He put the mask over his face gently. "Count backwards."

Danny made a noise of sorts, and in less than thirty seconds, he was out like a light. Maddie's breath caught in her throat as she fearfully anticipated his form to change. It did not.

The surgeon's words were muffled in her mind as she watched them make the first incision, then slowly, for the next six hours, begin to make the careful and painstaking task of wiring her baby back together. The process felt like it would never end.

#danny phantom #Maddie fenton #my phics #phics #broken ectoplasm #history #dannymay #dannymay19 #my dannymay #my dannymay19

[ravenbloodau]

The Damned Mission

She had seen the first mission fail. She was there with the rookies on that ship, and had watched her teammates die.

Now it was time to try again. The AI drone had already saved a good few of the team, carrying the smaller ones off to safety and to regroup.

She and her team now had to perform. The moved cautiously and quietly throughout the halls of the complex, taking out guards like silent assassins when they found the new headquarters.

Or, what they had been told where the new headquarters of the operation. The holes in the walls were the first clue that something was off, and instantly she recalled what had happen not two years ago.

"EVERYBODY OUT!" Too late, the arrows flew and embedded themselves into their targets, and her teammates fell onto the floor. She felt a couple of arrows lodge into her backside just before blacking out herself..

In her mind, at this point, they had already failed.

She woke to a screen and people typing rapidly. Pain seared her backside as she watched the messages.

"We can't talk about this out loud."

"We all know that! Yo, boss, you're up!"

"Yea, I'm up," She typed rapidly, "Remember to CLOSE OUT THIS TAB OR CLOSE THESE LAPTOPS, they don't know we can do this, and this is where we failed last time."

"Hello spies," a man crept up behind her, gently closing the laptop and meeting her face to face, "Like the veiw?"

"I'm a little disappointed," She laughed at him, "I was hoping to be closer to the window."

"Ah, unfortunately you woke up last, so you have your spot," He came right back with a playful sneer.

The pain and pressure mounted as if the arrows had been kept in her backside and she couldn't help but react to the sudden, loud, monstrous pang that hit her.

She rolled onto her side and grunted as it bloody well hurt, and the man blinked..

"Are- are you still in pain?" He was surprised by the development.

"Yea, think I got hit with an extra doseage," She snapped at him, "It's bad.."

"That's impossible unless you got hit with the- Who are you?" He bolted over, alarmed now. They didn't want to kill them, not after that first group. They had missed out on so much vital information that it *fucking stung*. Plus, it was such a waste to kill these beings.

"Fuck it," She muttered as she dropped her disguise. The Si'Nian from before, twisted in agony, "I'm *that* bitch."

He lifted her head into his lap, and was shaking, biting his hand as it registered..

"Shit, why didn't you tell us?" He mumbled as he called for medical, "You asshat, being raised by humans, why didn't you say something?"

"What?" She laughed as the pain started to drown out most anything else, "What are you talking about?"

The rest of her crew watched as tears started dripping. She was dying, she knew that, but how they had figured that out was unbeknownst to her.

"Fei'Kat, right?" He asked as he ripped off his mask. No..

No way.

It was Daniel.. *That* Daniel.. A Kirin known to spare his previous victims in new attacks if they got caught in the crossfire.

"Andreomda's a small place huh?" Fei'Kat mumbled as her vision got spotty, "Hi asshole."

"Oh lord, no no no, HURRY UP!" Daniel barked at his men, "Look, I'm so sorry, all of you. We never meant to kill that team, or to hurt yours. Killing's such a waste, if you had just given us a name we would have been able to give you what you needed."

A collective "what" crossed everyone's lips. He was willing to do *what?*

"WHAT THE FUCK DUDE?!" One of her teammates snapped, "YOU'RE SERIOUSLY TELLING US THAT YOU WOULD HAVE SPARED THE FUCKING BULLETS IF WE GAVE YOU A DAMN NAME?!"

"HEY!" Fei'Kat barked, her voice dropped off a cliff, signaling that it was getting worse, possibly because of the allergic reaction that she was having to the sedative, "Watch your mouth. This mission takes priority over your outrage."

She nearly nodded off after that, and Daniel was having a hard time keeping her awake as medical tried to keep down the inflammation.

"Sir you are *very* lucky not to have hit her neck, no wonder she's in so much pain," One of the doctors grumbled as they injected her with something, "If we had she'd be dead by now. Get her to Medbay, and her crew. Laying on this damn floor, not matter how clean it is, is stupid."

"Ooh relocation, sweet," A younger member of the crew muttered sarcastic as ever.

"I said shush, I may be dying but I'm still your commanding officer," Fei'Kat laughed it off as a stretcher was brought in.

The youngest of the team, Gaia, a hybrid between the Si'Nains and Kirins, had a strong emotional response to hearing that. *Intensely strong.*

She kept silent, but the color of the fur tufts around her tail flashed a deep blue. Sorrowful as the stretcher was taken away, carrying Fei'Kat away for treatment.

When they had left, she started crying, quietly. *Dying.* She knew what that felt like, how much it hurt, painful.

"Gaia?" Micheal, the one who's outrage had gotten Fei'Kat to bark at him to shut up, "You ok?"

Gaia shook her head, "I know how much it hurts, dying. To think that possibly.."

"Look, she'll be alright," Daniel started working to help the others to their feet as he administered the antidote, "She's in good care now."

"You talk big for having a torture chamber like this bub," Micheal moved to defend Gaia.

Ti'Dak moved toward the door, ready to bolt and help others bolt if things went wrong. Everyone was some level of dizzy, a blood rush to the body.

"If I wanted anyone here dead, as in actually wanted you dead, I would have you killed already," Daniel warned, a bit feircely, "Now, we'll take care of you, to the best of our ability, and open communications again with your sector."

It was the hardest "I'm sorry" Daniel could have mustered. He wasn't accustomed to apologizing much, but he was trying to get better.

"The people of Earth have been harassed by you, and now you wanna open up the sector?" Micheal scoffed, "Even as a human, I find that absolutely irrational. Like, what the fuck?"

Daniel's tail lowered as he gulped.

"I'm sorry, it's...complicated," Daniel mumbled as the other members of the team looked around to one another.

"Complicated? Sure, ok..." Micheal shook his head.

Gaia was humming to herself now, quietly fiddling with a familiar tune as they were escorted out and to respective quarters. No one dared ask for any changes, or about curfew.

In fact, no one even asked to see Fei'Kat, they just made their way over to the Medbay. Nobody stopped them now, it didn't matter.

Gaia was the first to test this, despite being incredibly vulnerable. She walked in and saw that Fei'Kat was still being treated for her allergic response.

"Fei?" Gaia asked and the doctors looked up. They nodded, inviting Gaia to step closer as they recognized her as a doctor too.

"Hm? Gaia?" Fei'Kat was barely aware of her situation.

"I'm here, Captain, it's alright. The crew's been given quarters, and I just thought I should come and visit. See what caused the reaction," Gaia was quiet and Fei'Kat nodded.

"Give her the report," Fei'Kat mumbled, "Turns out biology hates me."

Gaia read over the report and sighed.

"Ker'Tak be praised for helping invent these antidotes," Gaia muttered as she scrolled through the report. Her tail flicked up, annoyed, "Anaphylactic shock, as a reaction to residual, fucking bullshit! Who the friggen hell gave you your doctorates?"

Gaia let slip her not so tempered origins with that touch of berating.

"Chill, it's fine," Fei'Kat nodded to herself, "At least they're trying to help."

"Trying to and failing, *move over,*" Gaia got to work, shoving the Jin-Sekt out of her way. They grumbled and went to get the antidotes.

"Gaia," Fei'Kat was nodding off again, and this time she knew she wasn't going to wake up again, "Gaia, tell the crew.. The mission still.." She rasped as pain hit her throat like a bloody fury, "Still takes priority."

She swallowed hard as she tasted that familiar tang of blood. It hurt to stay awake, and Gaia paused for a minute.

"Tell them yourself, you gotta stay," Gaia was fighting off the need to sleep herself. The agent they had used hadn't worn off quite yet, but it was getting there.

Fei'Kat shook her head, tears starting to stain the sides of her face. She was seeing stars, and was terrified. *Stars help Gaia,* she thought as Gaia started working frantically, *She needs the temperance you showed my mentor.*

Micheal came into the Medbay, but stopped just short of the center room. His eyes went wide was he watch Gaia working. Her horns were glowing a throbbing purple and black. Greif and fear..

"Gaia?" Micheal approached cautiously as Gaia frantically worked.

"*Not now,*" Gaia never pushed anyone away like that. Not to Micheal's knowledge.

*It's gotta be pretty dire if she's pushing everyone out,* Micheal thought and that's when the pang hit. It was like a blazing knife had been dragged across his chest, he had to take a knee.

"Fei'Kat," He hissed through his teeth, "C'mon, you can beat this."

Gaia looked over. Her heart stopped dead in her chest. Micheal was Fei'Kat's...

*He's her lifeline,* Gaia ran up to Micheal, helped him up and led him over to Fei'Kat.

"Micheal?" Fei'Kat rasped, tearfully watching as Micheal started having a hard time, "Mikey?"

"Fei? It's that bad?" Micheal asked, breathless now, "C'mon, you can fight this."

Fei'Kat's vision blurred with tears as she watched Micheal suffering. She shook her head, crying hard now, unable to control the painful gasping.

"I can't!" Her cry was Gaia's cue. It was risky but she went through with her plan. Fei'Tak's eyes grew wide as a gutteral scream rose from her throat. Micheal's guy wrentched at the sight, seeing Fei'Kat in so much pain.

"Fei, Fei'Kat! FEI!" Micheal's voice rose above hers as her claws dug into the bed, "Fei, I'm right here!"

It got quiet rapidly after. The monitors beeped loudly as a sudden wave of calm hit the entire bay. Gaia was watching, waiting as Fei'Kat blinked.

Just like that, the agony had vanished. An otherworldly calm embraced her as Micheal suddenly found the strength to stand upright on his own.

"There..." Gaia sighed, "That should do it."

"How did you know that would work?" A Huamia inquired, in awe at Gaia's handiwork.

"I know my patients like the back of my hand," Gaia told them plainly, "Now, they need their rest, it's been an ordeal for everyone. Preferably you'd let them stay together."

"Yes ma'am," The other doctors in the room moved quickly to get the two into their own room so they could rest.

Gaia left the Medbay, tail flicking about as she opened the door to get assigned quarters.

One thing that Fei'Kat had right, was that someone was going to experience the worst pain in their life. Whether it was her or Micheal though, she couldn't tell.

Ti'Dak came into her room to find her absolutely wiped out. He sighed and left, knowing that maybe tomorrow she'd feel better. He had no idea that she just performed the riskiest operation known across Andromeda.

The Phoenix Operation, as the High Council called it. Performed successfully only once before, and even then they had every precaution in place.

Gaia couldn't care less if she died in her sleep because of the aftermath, she just needed to know that Fei'Kat and her Chosen were safe, and would recover.

It wasn't gonna end here, not for Gaia, she knew this going to sleep so soon after. She hadn't found her Chosen, yet.

And, after all this mess and the Galateans claiming that the stars had a mighty fate planned for her, she wasn't worried. Death would not prevail today, nor would it tomorrow.

She could sleep easy in knowing that. Everyone could sleep easy in knowing the mission had just completed itself. They had reunited the rebel forces with the High Council and had fair run of the entire station.

It was finally safe for their people to come *home*.

•End•

||Or is it?||

#writing #writers on tumblr #sci-fi #story #original story #sci-fi story #bloody #trama #cursing #lots of cursing #blood #fighting #arguing #hurt #near death experience #near death tw

[lifeofateenageauthor]

A Higher Plane

Chapter 1

Second To Midnight

“Look, I don’t actually want to be your friend.” Blake could not fathom how that was hard to understand. 

“Blake, please listen to me.” Her voice was clingy, desperate even. It revolted him in the same way it had when his step-dad had insisted that they sit down and watch NASCAR together. A pitiful excuse for bonding time was what it boiled down to in the end. “No. The protest is tomorrow. I don’t care if you show up. You can do whatever the fuck you want.” It wasn't like his feelings had mattered when it turned out she had been in a relationship the entire time.

“I just think we should talk.” 

“I don’t care what you think.” The whining was too much, he couldn't take it.

“I know it was my fault. But neither of us really tried to salvage it.”

“If it’s not clear to you, I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want you again. Ever.”

“Blake, please.”

“No, I’m done being some late night hook up. It’s not what I want.” “It’s not what I want either.” Like hell it isn't, Blake thought. 

“We talked about this. I’m moving back to Paris. I’ve sold my LA apartment. We’re done, Winona.”

“Please.”

“No, Winona. I’m done. Stop calling me.”

His heart was crossed, his veins felt tangled as he struggled to calm his racing pulse. Protestors were already on the streets, and he had yet to finish his briefing with the other organisers. They stood around, a lot less tense than they probably should have been. Susanna, with her dark, gleaming skin that contradicted her being an Angeleno born and raised in downtown LA where less than one in ten people were african american, handed them each a megaphone. He strengthened his grip on the object; they needed to be strong. Lest the campaign come crashing to the floor under the weight of the protestors’ expectations and the resistance of the oppressors.

As an offer to the people who haven’t already done it, they set up a station with the Bail Fund Project, where protestors queue up to have the BFP’s phone number written on their arm in case they got arrested. Blake wrote the number on the arm of a young, trans woman, mechanically dragging the sharpie across her skin, as though he couldn’t feel the veins that led blood to every cell and made her human. He had decided that it shouldn’t be personal, he had promised himself that the moment he had seen the amount of people who had signed up for the protest. To make it personal would be to lose the overview. And if he lost the overview, that was it.

The police were there already, cocooned in bullet proof vests, helmets and shin guards, unlike the last ‘Higher Plane’ protest. Their trucks and cars barricaded the sides of the road, leading to an empty CVS parking lot the police had turned into a beehive of activity, officers watching them with peeled eyes, the National Guard flexing their semi-automatic weapons waiting to impose the curfew they had set for three in the afternoon.

Blake was in charge of the middle-right section. As they started moving, he fell into place amongst the signs and fists being thrown into the air. The crowd was at least double the size of the previous protest last week. His eyes scanned the crowd continuously, like a metal detector at the airport. Susanna’s voice drifted back to them, her strong words infiltrating the crowd, like ribbons of courage being transmitted through airwaves. “Despite our differences, we are strong! Despite our differences, we are united!”

She had always had more of a bond with people of colour, even though he had always gotten top marks in history. On the other hand, he appealed more to the queer community; evident from the outpoor of positivity on his social media. That’s why they worked well together; people tended to trust their own, but if you could suddenly convince that group that a certain other group was worth allying with, they could stand stronger and taller. Especially when it came to the overlap, people like Winona who was a queer woman of colour. Ugh shit, stop thinking about her. Like the trade unions that allowed this type of police behaviour to be the norm, that when you collect enough people with the same goal, your collective bargaining power skyrockets and you’re more likely to get what you want. 

With every step he took, he could feel the government rulings crumble into every crack in the pavement. He was surrounded by diversity. The collelliosion of the us’es had succeeded. The collision he had created. Men and women. Black and white. Gay and straight. LGBT. Black Lives Matter. The Women’s Movement. He watched them stand up for each other and it was glorious. Their movement was glowing. These personal stories were their Higher Plane. Higher than political divides and cultural differences. Finally, this was their success, and he felt drunk on it. Their protesting chants and yells morphed into euphoria and carried him with fumes, soft like clouds. 

Dusk was still hours away from setting in as he watched the protestors around him slowly disperse, unnecessarily rushed by the police. About halfway through the march he had realised that he could no longer hear Susanna in front of him, and similarly he came back to find that she was not in their organiser’s tent for the debriefing. He asked around, but all just shrugged, suggesting that she had probably gone home and forgot to tell them. 

The traffic light turned green and he accelerated, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. A shrill, siren cut through the air and he quickly looked forward, left, right and checked his mirrors. Seeing no police or ambulance, he continued his purposeful cruise. The last thing he wanted to do was tap the break. He had places to be and deals to make to change the world. His phone rang, the opening chords to Sam Tsui’s “Second To Midnight” filling the silence of the car. He realised he had forgotten to turn on the radio. As soon as he tapped the answering icon on his dashboard, Susanna exclaimed,  “Blake?!”

“Yes?” he answered absentmindedly, browsing through dinner options. 

“Fuck, Blake, they shot someone!” Her pitch was hysterical, like a horn at a football match. It took him a good second of staring out of the windshield blankly before he realised what she had said.

“What?”

“The police shot a black protester.”

“Shit.” He could almost taste it on his tongue, the tear gas they had used. “Do you know who?”

“I think her name was Scott. Yeah, Winona Scott.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” At her response, he went quiet like the night, his mind thundering. “Blake are you there?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m here.”

“They took her to LAC and USC medical center.”

“Is she going to make it?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “I’m heading there now.”

“I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.” Too late, he realised he might have sounded too eager.

“Blake, that's really kind, but it’s okay. You don’t need to be there.”

“It’s the right thing.” I need to be there.

“Okay, I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

“No worries, I called around to the others too.”

The waiting room was cold, there definitely wasn’t any heating in the floor, but Blake’s sweaty back stuck to the cheap plastic chairs anyway. He had been greeted by Winona’s mother, who had understandably been in tears. He had asked what the doctors had said. She had said she didn’t know anything yet. So much for good news. His knee bounced, a stress mechanism out of his control.

“Winona Scott?” A doctor called.

“Yes?” Mrs Scott got up to follow the doctor down a hallway and Blake felt his heart pick up as he watched them walk away.

The doctor was somber as he led her into a small, sparse room. “Please, come with me. Sit down.” He motioned to a chair that seemed only marginally more comfortable than those in the waiting room. “Mrs Scott, your daughter was in critical condition coming in. He passed away during the operation. My condolences. The bullet had graced both the heart and the aorta. There was nothing we could do.”

Blake knew it wasn’t good the moment he saw the way Mrs Scott walked back with her chin tucked towards her chest. “What did the doctor say?” His words were feeble.

“She’s dead. My daughter’s dead.”

“Blake.” Susanna approached him with the cup of black coffee he had asked for. He couldn’t fathom getting out of his seat. Maybe if he sat here long enough the doctor would come back and say they had been mistaken, that Winona was okay. She placed a hand on his shoulder, urging him to look at her. “A man called Jakob Webber just called. Do you know him?”

“No. Why did he call?” He chose not to look at her, favouring the straight outlines of the floor tiles that intersected so neatly.

“He’s an independent activist in Pontoise in France.”

“In France?” If this movement was something he wanted to take home with him, he wasn’t sure. And handing it to another person was drastic. “Yeah. He wanted to organise a rally under our campaign name. I told him I’d get back to him. What should I tell him?”

“Tell him no.”

“Are you sure?”

“A woman just died. I’m sure.”

“Okay, I’ll call him.”

#social commentary #love #lgbt #genderfluid #fallinginlove #diving #sports #athletes #activism #politics #equality #feminism #blacklivesmatter

[bloodkingdomrp]

♛ Life is a waterfall, we turn around & put up our wall ♛

( THE FESTIVAL )

The gunfire continued to blaze through the festival grounds, mass hysteria and chaos taking ahold the crowd as they fled to safety. Was this vengeance, a fine display of the King’s well-deserved rage as it boiled in the Kovali’s veins? If only... the Prospect aims his gun, a faction lackey in his sight. Just as the bullet flies across the park, the target moves. He can see the face of a young boy in his crosshairs, and then blood. The Faithful, The Doctor and The Forgotten watch in horror at the crimson seeping into the concrete...

The police sirens cut through the nightmare, a squadron marching upon the gang violence, armed to kill. The Infiltrator falls in the line, eyes widening in horror as she sees the S.W.A.T symbol and gun pointed in the Heir’s direction. How far was she willing to go, to maintain her identity, an operation she’d worked so hard to destroy from the inside? The movement is brisk, grabbing the man to the ground, sharp pain in her side- the feeling of a gunshot wound. She hears the sound of her own scream, the Weapon and The Contractor at her side trying to load her into the vehicle. Tires squeal against the pavement, the second Kovali car lurches forward... The Icarus runs across the pavement, ducking down when he notices a phone lying on the crowd. In his haste he grabs it, sprinting off into safety. He rounds the corner into an alley when it begins to ring. The voice on the other side of the line stops him cold- “Motta, what the fuck is going on there, the news just stated there was an attack- I’m in half the mind of pulling you off this investigation...”

The Spy takes cover behind a broken booth, knowing damn well that her immunity is in full play while hell is unleashed. Just as she turns to feign a shot, she sees the Traitor, a Kovali gun waiting to take his life... and then it doesn’t. A representative, left alive... her suspicions grow. But she isn’t the only one, the Assassin can’t help but think it’s beyond luck that he’s breathing. And the Hot Shot, huddled in a booth, sure as hell noticed it too. 

The Illegitimate and the Sacrificed are neck-at-neck, aided by the Gambler, and the Consigliere. It’s clear death if they stay, that or jail which is a card the Gambler simply cannot play. He calls out to the Casanova to move, but the man doesn’t hear him. In his line of sight are the uniforms of CPD- he won’t risk it. He grabs ahold of the Faction’s very own counselor, but not before he hears the man say a peculiar set of words to the Kovali felon... “careful, you don’t want to spill your own family’s blood..” His foot hits the gas, watching the face of the Casanova, whose gun tossed aside, putting on the mask yet again. Can he blend in and play the game of innocence as the Crooked pulls him away, a pair of cuffs on his wrists. They didn’t see anything, it was too much chaos, a golden boy isn’t made for a cell. He’s shackled to her squadron car, as the woman speeds down towards the wacker checkpoint. 

(L O W E R  W A C K E R  D R I V E)

The Truck weaves in between traffic, the Kovali car far too close for comfort. Just as they speed around the corner, the Mad Scientist begins to wonder just how this plan could fall through. His eyes land on the Shadow, the only one that isn’t one of them... a rat. He reaches for his gun, a sharp curve tossing the doors of the truck open. It doesn’t make sense, why are they slowing down?  Flashing red and blue lights all but burn into the Lover’s eyes when a checkpoint appears on the bridge. She barely has time to register what’s going on when the Coward gets a clear shot at the driver. Blood splatters her clothes, a sudden loss of control. They’re going to crash, they’re going to crash. The Shadow, corned and all too familiar with death takes a chance, tackling the Mad Scientist out of the vehicle... In a split second, the Black Widow tries to reach for the steering wheel but it’s too late. The sound of metal-on-metal echoes through the City, the truck hanging on the edge. The Lover’s eyes meet the Cataclysmic, a brief second of time in the balance before the truck goes over, cold water meeting her skin.

( T H E N E W S )

It’s an hour after the events have unfolded, the face of the Messiah splashed across every television screen. 

Chicago- with the increasing magnitude of the attacks, our city has declared a state of emergency. Under the agreement of the Governor, we will be imposing Martial Law for the safety of our citizens. A mandatory curfew of 9pm will be held for all, in the efforts of finding the criminals behind this attack. Businesses will be required to comply. We’ve asked for the state to provide us with reinforcements on our streets, patrols will be monitoring the city. If you see or hear any suspicious behavior, call 911. While this may be a drastic step, it is necessary. 

♞ Aerials in the sky, lose your mind & free your life ♞

OOC INFORMATION

(BEHIND THE SCENES) The Faction’s shipment has been swept away in the current of the Chicago River, with the Lover and Black Widow barely making it out alive. In direct result, the Zhang’s productions and the Faction’s main money source has been severely hit. The Festival grounds are now under police control, with the first Kovali car and the first Faction car bolting out of the space. The City is now under Martial Law, with the following dictations. 

9PM Curfew

S.W.A.T Patrol on the street

Suspension of habeas corpus and civil law, searches may be conducted without a warrant.

Application of Military Law

This concludes our King’s Rage event with grave implications. Remember, all actions have consequences... Please tag all starters with bkevent02.

#bkevent02 #bkplotdrop

[themadlostgirl]

Not Dead Yet (Part 73)

*I will be uploading Not Dead Yet to AO3 after I finish it on tumblr. It is going to go through a bunch of editing, trimming and the reader is getting an OC name. Other than that same old story. Alright let’s do this!*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warnings: Language

I was sitting in the kitchen going over some homework. It was numbing my brain. When am I going to need algebra in life? This is ridiculous. Why won’t senior year end?

My phone rang and I jumped at the chance for a distraction from the quadratic formula. It was Ms. Mills.

“Hello? Henry? No, I haven’t seen or heard from him all day. Has something happened? Missing? Oh well I know some boltholds of his I could check out. Yes, of course, I’ll call you if I hear anything. Bye.”

“Something wrong, Marigold?”

“Henry Mills is missing. I’m going to head out and see if I can find him. I promise I’ll be back by curfew.” I closed my textbook and started to tug on my shoes.

“You’ll be back by dinner.” mom corrected me, “Stay safe.”

“Always am.” I was already pulling on my jacket, “Bye.”

I stopped by his castle first. It was a little rusted playhouse on the beach that he always loved playing on. I knew that if he ever needed time away he would go there first. Unfortunately he didn’t seem to be there this time. This was a small town but there were a lot of hiding places. Dangerous hiding places. The woods alone could take days to search. I hope he hadn’t gone far.

The next couple of hours I spent wandering around town but Henry was AWOL. He’s ten, how far can a ten year old get in a couple hours? It was getting late and I headed home for dinner. Mom and dad asked whether Henry had been found but I was sad to say that no such progress had been made.

The next day before school I stopped by Ms.Mills office and asked if Henry had been found. She was glad to inform me that he had been safely returned late the night before. She also wanted to pay me to walk Henry from school. I could tell she was just worried about him since he had up and disappeared so I took the request in stride. Five extra bucks to walk him down main street? Done.

I waited outside the school for Henry’s class to exit. I watched the short heads stream out the doors but Henry’s was not among them. Where was he? Behind the kids Ms. Mills strutted out looking peeved. “Ms. Mills?”

“Marigold,” Ms. Mills stopped, “Have you seen Henry?”

“No. I was waiting to take him home like you asked. Is he missing again.”

“It would appear so.”

“I can go look for him again. It wouldn’t be a bother.”

“Don’t worry yourself. He couldn’t have gotten far. Go enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you if I see him.”

“Thank you, Marigold. I’ll be sure to inform you when he’s been found.” She walked off again. A moment later another woman walked out of the school that I had never remembered seeing before. These past couple days are strange. I got a call an hour later telling me that Henry had been found...again. Keeping an eye on this boy may just be worth more than five dollars an hour.

As I was sat around the dinner table with mom and dad we had the same old small talk about work and school. The only real thing of interest was the woman that had come to Storybrooke, Henry’s birth mother. That was just lovely. No wonder things were all mucked up. Ms. Mills was an intimidating woman and a very protective mother. Throw in your adopted son’s birth mother and things just got even more complicated. At least there was something going on in this town for once.

Apparently I was right about things changing. Ever since Henry’s bio mom came to town things had started happening from the clocktower finally moving to the John Doe in the hospital coming out of his coma.

From then on things just kept getting stranger. Sheriff Graham died, Ms. Blanchard became the town harlot and was framed for murder just to be proven innocent. My schedule with Henry had gotten thrown all out of whack what with all the chaos. When I did get to watch him he was always antsy to get away. So to keep him in place I asked him about the one thing he could never shut up about, fairy tales. His fairy tales.

“So let’s go over the list shall we?” I pulled out my notebook. One of the things that kept him interested was figuring out who all the townspeople were in relation to his storybook. Ms. Blanchard was Snow White, the John Doe aka David was Prince Charming, Doctor Hopper was Jiminy Cricket. “Any new discoveries since we last met?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” he said with a smile, “Can I have the pencil?”

“Here ya go buddy.” I handed it to him. “Hey Henry, you never told me something.”

“What?”

“If everyone in this town is a storybook character which one do you think I am?” I asked. This was something I had been curious to but never questioned.

“I don’t know.” he shrugged, “Who do you think you are?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you had an idea.” I sighed.

“Don’t worry. Soon the curse will be broken and you’ll remember who you are again.” Henry assured me.

“Well that is a relief.” I peeked over his shoulder to see his new notes. “How are things going? I know things with your two moms have been hectic to say the least.”

“It’s all in plan with Operation Cobra.” Again with Operation Cobra. He never told me anything about that. I didn’t mind so much.

After he was done I packed everything back up. Ms. Mills came home later after I tucked Henry into bed. She paid me and I left. She didn’t look so good but I felt that it wasn’t my place to ask if anything was wrong. Ms. Mills has gotten a lot more sensitive since the arrival of Emma and I didn’t want to test my luck with her, even if it was well intentioned.

I was upstairs in my room doing even more homework when I got the sense that something was wrong. There was a certain uncomfortable tension that buzzed in the air and made it hard to focus.

“Marigold!” mom shouted up to my room, “Get down here!”

“What? What’s happened?” I rushed downstairs.

“That one boy you babysit, Henry, he’s in the hospital.” she said.

“The hospital?” I gasped, “What happened? Is he alright?”

“I was in the middle of a call with Francene from the hospital when Henry got rushed in. Apparently he was knocked out or poisoned or something and he’s not doing too well.”

“Oh my god,” I mumbled, “I need to get to the hospital. I need to check on him.”

“I’ll drive you.” mom and I rushed out to the car and we were at the hospital in minutes. I ran down to where the most commotion was and saw Henry being hooked up to all these machines and the doctors and nurses flying about looking for answers. Oh god…

“Nurse,” I stopped one of the nurses, “Is he alright? What happened to him?”

“We don’t know yet but we’re doing our best. Now please go to the waiting room, this area is overcrowded as it it.” she said and pushed past me.

Please let Henry be alright.

I sat in the waiting room along with some others as we waited for any news about Henry. The day grew longer and I felt like my brain had been dunked in one of Granny’s deep fryers. Please oh please just let Henry come out of this alive. He needed to live. Just let that little heart of his keep beating!

One of the nurses walked out to the waiting room and called Henry’s name. Everyone waiting in the vicinity stood. “Is he okay?” my throat clogged up.

She shook her head. “We did what we could but he didn’t make it. Whatever was afflicting him we were unable to find it before it was too late. He’s gone.”

“No…” I choked, “H-He can’t be. He has to live! There is so much more that he needs to do! He can’t be dead.”

“I’m so sorry. Would you like to come say goodbye?”

“No. No, I’m just going to go home. I need some time to process all this.” she gave me a nod and I walked out of the waiting room. Poor Henry. So young. So full of life. He didn’t deserve this.

“Mari, are you okay?” mom asked.

“I need a moment.” I walked out of the hospital tears streaming down my face.

This can’t be happening. Henry can’t be dead. If he’s dead then everything was ruined! Years of planning down the drain!

What? Years of planning what? A memory tickled in the back of my head but just like my dreams I couldn’t reach it. I felt like yelling at the sky and cursing everyone and everything for this horrid day.

A gust of wind pushed through me out of nowhere. What was…

“Y/N.” I breathed out as all my memories came flooding back, “My name is Y/N.”

Everything. I remember everything! My father, being a grave digger, Neverland, my brothers, Wendy, Tinkerbell, Tigerlily, Hook.

“Peter.” Peter Pan. My Peter Pan!

I ran back to my house--not my house--the house I had been trapped in and overturned the room I had called mine. How did I stand all this? Pastels and dresses and fluffy little cardigans? Where were my old bloody boots when I needed them? I ransacked the room for clothes that were sturdy and not entirely embarrassing as well as the best pair of tennis shoes I could find.

Twenty eight years. Twenty eight years of being stuck as a babysitter away from Neverland and Peter and all my friends. I was not going to go back dressed as some fairy princess.

I went to the window and threw it open. I don’t know if this will work during the day but hell I was gonna try. “I believe.”

Then I waited. A moment went by but nothing happened. I waited another minute and still there was no Shadow to fetch me. From out in the forest a dark purple smoke was cascading towards the town. I knew that. It was magic. “Of, fucking, course.”

I slammed the window shut again as the smoke reached the house and filtered in. I was blinded for a moment but just a moment before the smoke was gone. Magic is here. I don’t know how it happened but if Rumplestiltskin was here then I was positive it was him that did it.

Maybe with magic here now, I might be heard. I opened the window again and stared up at the cloudy sky. “I believe.” I stressed once more but like the first time nothing happened.

Okay. This...this is fine. It probably doesn’t work during the day since I can’t see the star. Not a problem, I can wait till tonight. I’ve been gone for a couple decades, what more was a few more hours? In the meantime I had some things I could sort out.

“Marigold--” my fake mom caught me leaving.

“Shut it, I have places to be old lady.” I rushed out of the house.

I was walking down mainstreet when an alarming thought popped into my head. My club. It had disappeared during the curse.

Rumplestiltskin. If anyone had it it was him. And I know exactly where he would keep it. I stomped towards the pawnshop and threw open the door. He wasn’t here. Probably for the best, if I saw that slimy little imp before I left I was going to slit his neck.

I saw my club resting along the wall next to some walking sticks. I was about to leave when something else caught my eye. Resting with some other antique looking knives in a glass case was my dagger. The one Rumplestiltskin had taken from me. I opened it and wrapped my hand around the worn leather grip. Was there anything else of mine in here? I scavenged around and found the cuff Peter had given me with the decorative amber. My dagger on my hip, club in hand and cuff on my wrist I was feeling more like my old self.

Now I was truly ready to go home. I left the shop and meandered down the street. I was going to go hang out in the woods until nightfall and try calling for the shadow again. As I was leaving the shop I saw a group heading down the street followed by an angry mob. I was content to let them go and do their thing when I noticed Henry among the group. A memory came back, a picture of a boy drawn on a piece of old parchment. The Truest Believer. It was Henry!

Looks like I’m going to be taking someone else with me to Neverland. First I had to get him away from the group.

I followed after the mob. The little party of heroes stopped Regina from getting herself killed and took her into custody. After they left the jail they started to talk about what they were gonna do with Henry. Now was my chance.

“Hey,” I approached the group, “I don’t think you guys really know me.”

“Hi Marigold,” Henry waved at me, “Do you remember who you are?”

“Yes I do. Looks like you were right, Henry.” I faked an overly sweet smile.

I liked Henry well enough and after being his babysitter for the past eleven years I had grown kinda fond of him. It would be hard handing him over to Peter after getting to know him but in the end he was just another means to an end and what can save Peter’s life. If he’s still alive.

“Who are you?” David, Prince Charming, whatever, asked me.

“Y/N. I was Henry’s babysitter, am still, I don’t know anymore.” I shrugged.

“Right,” Emma pointed at me, “You uh...you wanna make a couple more bucks and watch him while we figure out what we’re gonna do with Regina?”

“I can, no problem. Also you don’t need to pay me. This little dork was right and now I remember who I am and can be with my family again.” I ruffled Henry’s hair, “That’s all the payment I need.”

“Okay. Just to be safe we’re gonna send Ruby with you.” Snow White/Mary Margaret gestured to Ruby.

I knew it couldn’t be that easy. “Alright. Sounds like a plan.” Henry and I got into the car with Ruby.

We drove in leisure until a tremor shook the ground and the sky went dark. Something was out there. Something bad. I rolled down the window and saw a black mass streaking across the sky. For a moment I smiled thinking it was Peter’s shadow but it was quickly dashed. It was too big and it sent an unpleasant chill down my spine. A wraith.

“Where are we going?” I asked Ruby.

“Edge of town. No one out that way.”

“Is that really the safest option right now? Out in the open?”

“What do you suggest then?”

“Somewhere inside. That thing that went across the sky was a wraith. Probably sent to kill Regina.”

“What?!” Henry looked rightfully alarmed.

“How do you--”

“I’ve seen a lot of things.” Living with Peter you learned a lot about dark magical artifacts and beasts.

“We have to go back!” Henry pleaded, “We have to help my mom!”

“No! I need to keep you safe!” Ruby snapped.

“We should really turn back. I know how to get rid of the wraith.”

“Where did you learn to get rid of a wraith?”

“Long story.” Also incredibly fictional but if it could get us inside I didn’t care. I didn’t know much about wraiths outside of what they looked like and what they did but I did know it would only attack the one it marked. That most likely being Regina.

With a little more arguing and pleading Ruby turned us around. We hustled into city hall. There was some loud commotion coming from the main hall. As quickly as it started though it ended followed by stark silence. Carefully we walked toward the hall. There was some muffled shouting and then we came upon the scene.

Regina was alive and currently had David restrained against the wall. Certainly not what I had imagined. “Mom!” Henry rushed in.

“Henry, what are you doing here?” Regina left David alone and he dropped to the ground. Ruby went to check on him while I stayed with Henry.

Apparently Emma and Mary Margaret fell through a portal to someplace unknown. Henry started to tear up as he told Regina to get them back and to stay away from him until they were safe.

“Where will you go?” Regina knelt closer to her son.

“With me,” David had recovered and stood up. Henry, Ruby and him left while I stayed behind.

“Regina…” I turned to her after they were gone.

“What do you want?”

“I’ll keep an eye on him. I promise.”

“Who are you?” she scoffed, “Why aren’t you scared of me? I’m the Evil Queen.”

I felt like laughing. “Regina, I’m not from the Enchanted Forest. I was visiting it when I got sucked into your curse. I don’t know you, I don’t care about what your motivations are or who you want to kill. But I do know Henry. I’ll keep him safe.”

“How are you going to protect my son?”

I spun my club in hand, “Let’s just say, I’ve had to get myself out a worse scrapes than deadly wraiths and angry crowds. If you want someone to talk to my number is still on the fridge.”

I left. This was going to take more time than I thought. I need to play my cards right. If I can then I’ll have Henry and be on my way to Neverland in no time.

Outside I stared up at the sky. Second star to the right… “I’ll be home soon, Peter.”

(First) (Previous) (Next)

#slowburn #peter pan ouat #ouat peter pan #ouat #neverland #peter pan imagine #peter pan x reader

[theprodigypenguin]

Look Back at Me

Pairings: Jeith/Jaith (James Griffin and Keith Kogane)

Day one of @jamesandkeith week: Competition/Co-operation/Confessions  

Notes: While brainstorming this fic, I realized that normally it's James who confesses his feelings, so I decided to put my own personal spin on the confession trope. I hope you all enjoy!

Day One / Day Two / Day Three / Day Four / Day Five / Day Six / Day Seven / Day Eight

Ratings/Warnings: fluff, angst, somewhat sweet ending

Read it on Ao3 as well!

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

It started off as something trivial and pointless, an insignificant sense of admiration born of attention he never received otherwise. Keith was quiet, his eyes were set in an almost constant glare, he chased people away just with his presence. People thought he was weird, and hardly gave him so much as a chance to prove he was more than just some emo kid. No one took him seriously, no one ever addressed him formally, even the principal just talked about him as if he were nothing but a discipline case.

Then there was James Griffin. He didn't see Keith as a quiet emo, and was the only one who ever tried to get through to him. He seemed to take Keith's quiet and withdrawn composure as a challenge, Keith still remembered one of his first days at the school, when they were both still so young, how James quickly assessed Keith's loner status before pointing at him and announcing that they were going to be friends one day whether Keith liked it or not.

Of course that didn't turn out as well as James planned. Keith just kept pushing him away, side lining his attempts at reaching Keith. Even so, he was the only one back then who ever used Keith's name, ever addressed him as "Keith" and not "that emo kid", or "discipline issue", or "pity case", and somehow that stuck with Keith. They weren't friends by any stretch, but Keith held enough respect for James to not outright dislike him.

There were certainly bumps in their acquaintanceship, in their time knowing each other, like the way he lashed verbally at Keith and earned a fist in the face for his trouble, but it steadied after that incident. They passed more pleasant words to each other when they caught each others eyes, even taking the time to give each other advice regarding the simulators and assigned homework.

It never reached anything further than leaning towards each other during classes they shared and whispering idle conversation, "Do you have an extra pencil?" "Stop forgetting your supplies, Keith." It was enough, and Keith found himself slowly, ever so slowly free falling through emotions he wasn't familiar with. A warmth in his chest had sparked and slowly began to overwhelm all his other sensations.

Whenever James would look at him in passing, offer a little nod of acknowledgement, Keith's breathing would hitch in his throat, and he'd have to find an open window to calm down and breathe again. There were two or three times when Keith was passing his homework up to James who sat in front of him in their fighter class, where their fingers would brush accidentally. Keith would start to shake, his hand uncomfortably warm, but after the fourth time, he started to search for that hint of a touch, purposely shoving his hand against James' when passing work up.

None of the emotions made any sense, especially for someone who'd been hiding from said emotions since the moment his father's casket had been lowered into the unforgiving desert ground. Feeling things just hurt him in the end, he didn't want anything to do with them, but now it was like nothing else mattered. He felt, in his heart and his head, he felt when his hand brushed across James'. He felt fucking annoyed, that was for damn certain.

It got so bad that Keith relented in his suffering and reached out to the one person he could. Though it was difficult to get out, sitting in the dirt and sand with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wound around his legs, chin sitting on top of his knees.

"I feel sick to my stomach whenever he's around," he started, lifting his hands to stare at his fingers, "My palms get hot and my fingers tingle and shake. My head gets all light and airy. It's really uncomfortable. My chest gets really tight and my heart beats too fast, enough that I feel like I'm dying or something."

"Hah, I see," Shiro was sitting beside Keith, legs crossed and arms folded across his chest, eyes closed in something like amusement, only proved by the slight upturn of his lips, "Well, I think I can diagnose your symptoms, but you might not like what the doctor prescribes."

"Do I look ten to you?" Keith asked, stretching his legs out and leaning forward to glare up at the pilot beside him, "If you know what's wrong with me, tell me, and tell me how to make it stop, because it's annoying me."

"I gotcha," Shiro assured, turning and holding a hand up with his index pointing at Keith, "I diagnose you with severe crush disorder. I prescribe you confessing your feelings and maybe asking him out."

Keith's jaw dropped and he choked on his tongue for a clumsy moment before managing to make out words, "You want me to fucking what?!"

Shiro laughed when Keith threw a punch into his shoulder, "Okay listen. That breathless feeling you get when you're around him, that's how it started with me when I started to notice my feelings for Adam. I'll say this once. You deserve to be happy, to be with someone who makes you breathless like that. Take a chance, don't wait until you think you're ready, because by then it might be too late. You know you like him, right?"

Keith couldn't seem to find the right words, just stumbled over strange noises of confusion and disagreement. Really though, the fact he couldn't even deny it was pretty telling on its own. Shiro wasn't wrong, Keith liked James, and it only took half a day of contemplation to come to the same "diagnosis" that his friend had.

Acting on that realization, on the other hand, was something entirely different. What was Keith even supposed to say? He wasn't good at expressing himself, he wasn't good at handling emotions at all, but what Shiro said stuck with him. If he waited until he was ready, then he could be too late.

Keith tried several approaches, all of which ended up failing. He wrote his confession on a post it note that he stuck to James' textbook when he wasn't looking, but he forgot to sign his name. At one point he even wrote all his admiration into a letter and stuck in under the door jam leading into James' dorm, but he didn't even know if James had gotten that, or if his roommate had swiped it as a joke.

He did everything aside from verbally confessing his feelings, because the one time he tried, he nearly had a panic attack, choking on his breath before darting away. The fact James actually looked concerned for Keith's sudden unexplained freak out made it even more difficult to get the words out. So he just didn't, and he kept them to himself.

Though he did occasionally leave little notes for James, occasionally sticking flowers into his book bag when he left it unsupervised. It was enough to keep his wild emotions in check for the time being while he practiced confessing in the bathroom mirror, over and over again until his roommate told him to shut up and go to bed.

He was almost ready, almost, until Shiro's warning of waiting too long and losing his chance came to pass. The Kerberos mission, watching the launch, Shiro's absence made Keith sick with worry. Everyone noticed of course, that Keith was being far quieter than was normal for him, wasn't getting into fights, was keeping to himself, even turning homework assignments in on time.

James tried to ask him about it, asked if he was okay, and though he certainly wasn't the first to ask, he seemed to be the first who actually cared. Keith reassured him he was okay, and in that moment he was even ready to tell James everything, how worried he was about his friend, but how he was grateful James was reaching out to him; that he liked him, a lot.

Instead, another road block made itself known in the form of pilot error, and Keith's world fell out from under him. He didn't mean to punch Iverson, really he didn't, but the building stress of losing his one and only friend, the one person who seemed to give a damn about him, coupled with the Garrison officers constantly repeating pilot error, pilot error, was too much to bear.

He was booted, of course, and had nothing but the clothes on his back to take with him when he walked out the front door of the Garrison. It was evening, all the cadets were in their dorms, they wouldn't hear of his expulsion until the next morning. Keith didn't expect to see anyone outside, but there was someone standing at the gate, and the orange of their uniform revealed they were a cadet. It wasn't until Keith was almost on top of them that he recognized who it was, and by then they'd picked up on the sound of Keith's footsteps, head rolling to the side to eye him off.

There was no surprise at seeing Keith there, but there was something along the lines of disappointment, and Keith hesitated, not speaking a single word as they just stared at each other. After a short moment, James turned his head away to look back at the horizon and the sun setting in the far distance.

"So they booted you?" he asked, and Keith dropped his head, hunching his shoulders defensively, his right hand clinging to the strap of the duffel bag on his back, "Yea, I... kind of overheard the teachers talking when I was in the library."

"It's past curfew, isn't it?" Keith asked, "You should be in your room already."

James hummed, not meeting Keith's eye as he dropped his arms from where he'd folded them across his chest, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and searching around before pulling out a folded piece of paper. He stared down at it before carefully unfolding it, but continued to stay silent as he flicked the edge of it.

"Listen, Keith... maybe I can talk to Iverson for you. You're at the top of the class, all of the classes, they'd be crazy to get rid of you like this," he tore his eyes from the paper to look over at Keith, "Besides, I kind of owe you, you know? For that thing..."

Keith swallowed down the lump in his throat, shaking his head, "You know what I'm like. Nothing's going to change if I stay here. I have to leave...," he felt his entire body chill, "There's nothing left for me here, or on Earth at all."

James pushed off the wall to face him, something along the lines of frustration on his face, but also pain, "Let me help you. If you have nothing, then let me help you. Shirogane's not the only one who saw potential in you!"

Keith stared at the toes of his shoes, feeling lonely despite the fact that James was standing there in front of him, and he felt a wistful smile take to his lips as he clung to his bag.

"Thank you... but... right now I think I need to leave. I think it's the best thing for me, I just... need to think. I need to be alone."

"But... Keith, you're not-."

"Before I go, though, can I say something?" Keith interrupted, and James gave a deep sigh, shoulders sagging, "It's just... I see now that I've wasted a lot of time pitying myself and being scared of rejection. Shiro told me not to wait too long, because if I did then I would just lose my chance, and I guess I technically have, but... I guess that just means I have nothing else to lose, so...," he lifted his head to look at James, who was watching him uneasily, "I like you. I have for a while now. I mean, a long while, like ever since we were in middle school. Also when I say I like you I mean-."

"I know," James was the one to interrupt this time, and Keith narrowed his eyes a bit, though they shot wide when James held out the small sheet of paper he'd been carrying, "All these years of seeing your homework and you really think I wouldn't recognize your handwriting? You're a real idiot."

Keith bristled dangerously at that, eyes burning with anger as his face burned with embarrassment, responding the best way he knew how and leaning forward, lashing out, "So you knew this whole time, and what, you were just playing me? Stringing me along and making fun of me? Laughing at me behind my back when you're with your fucking friends, is that it?!"

"You need to take a minute and control your anger!" James snapped back, relaxing substantially before continuing, "I haven't shown anyone or told anyone, I... needed time to think about it for myself, but... there's nothing wrong with it, you know that, right? I mean I k-kinda might return your feelings anyway, so it's fine," Keith didn't have a chance to react before James was adding, "So you're wrong when you say you have nothing left here! You have me!" he stuck the paper out, waiting for Keith to take it.

It was worn from being folded and unfolded so often, one of the first things he'd written and stuck into James' bag. Cheesy, stupid, a confession of "I like you, and I want to go out with you," in Keith's handwriting. Right beneath it was another line of text, one he hadn't put there, one that made him choke on nothing as he read it.

I like you too, let's go out sometime.

"I'll talk to Iverson," James repeated, and Keith clung to the paper with both hands, "I'll convince him to give you another chance, we can work through this together. I'll help you, Keith, you're not alone. We can keep studying, keep training, enter the Garrison as pilots and teachers once we've graduated into officers. You're not alone, and there is a reason for you to stay here."

Keith didn't even know how to really feel at that point. He was tired. Emotionally exhausted and drained from everything that had happened. He could still feel it, the love and care he held in his heart, something reserved only for James, but at this point, he didn't think he'd be able to open up and love James the way he deserved.

"I... I need time, James. Please," Keith said softly, "I need to be alone, to think, I just... I can't be with you the way I am now. I need time to think through everything."

Silence answered him, and for a horrible moment Keith felt like sobbing, because he really had missed his chance. All this time he could've been with James, but he'd wasted it lamenting over how to confess, before wasting even more time mourning Shiro before he'd even been confirmed... gone. Was it really too late?

"Will you ever come back?" James asked, and Keith tensed, folding the paper up and holding it back out for the other cadet to take.

"I don't know."

James reached out and pushed Keith's hand closer to his chest, "Keep it," he said, and Keith felt his heart jump in panic before James quickly continued, "as a reminder. A promise. I'll wait for you."

Keith took a shuddering inhale, holding the page to his chest, "What if it takes too long? What if it takes years?"

"That's fine," James assured, "I've waited this long, you know. I can wait one or two more years," Keith almost, almost smiled, eyes pinching closed as James leaned towards him and brushed a kiss to his right cheekbone, then stepped past him, a hand squeezing his upper arm, "Come back as soon as you can, okay? I'll take you on a date to Plaht City, how's that sound."

"Plaht City?" Keith's voice broke at that, fighting the burn in his eyes, "Okay. Yea. Plaht City. I'll hold you to that promise."

"And I'll hold you to the promise that you'll come back. Better be ready, I'll be a fully realized pilot by the time you get back, so don't be too surprised."

Keith finally smiled at that, turning his head to look back at James, "Good. Keep studying and training. I know you'll be a good pilot. The best the Garrison has ever seen."

"I'll see you soon," he reached a hand back, and James reached over with his own, without looking, hooking his fingers with Keith's.

"Yea. You better."

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

"One or two years," Keith paused in his steps, fingers biting into the surface of his red accented paladin's helmet, hesitating before turning to look at who was standing in the hall behind him; James, "We made a promise, but you... might not remember it. Thought I'd ask anyway."

Keith watched him silently before turning his head away, staring at the wall before dropping his head and searching around inside the helmet, slipping a folded piece of paper from inside the lining and holding it out towards James, who hesitated visibly before taking a step closer.

He unfolded the paper Keith handed to him, a grin breaking over his face with an anxious laugh, flush crossing his cheeks pink and shaking his head before meeting Keith's eye. The smile wavered and he reached out to cup the side of Keith's face, thumb brushing the scar marring the skin there and leading Keith closer.

"It's been like six years."

"And you waited for me?" Keith tested, not moving away when James set their foreheads together.

"Guess I'm an idiot like that."

"Yea," Keith laughed out the word, "You definitely are."

#jamesandkeithweek #james and keith week #jeith #jaith #james/keith #james griffin #keith kogane #voltron legendary defender #fanfiction #flash fic #oneshot #day one #confessions #pining #keith is adorable #angst #fluff #soft crushes #love letters #first love #takashi shirogane

[salve-teff]

Four’s is the (actual) charm

I'm late (even though, it's still Sep 10th). Sorry, this is crap, but this crap was the best I could do with the nasty block I've been having recently.

(I’m also posting this on AO3 with the same title, just in case, and because.)

Pairing: Jeith/Jaith. James x Keith Rating: Gen. Warnings: Kind fo Angsty Word Count: 2492 Summary: 4 slips. It was all it took, four fateful slips coming from him to change the stability of his life and the rhythm of his heart.

James and Keith Week.

Day 1. Competition / Co-operation / Confessions.

It was not a thing he had planned at all. It just … sort of happened. Keith was stupid, and James was so infatuated with the emo boy he’s known almost all his life.

For years now, he thought that Keith hated him, ever before the orphan incident. It wasn’t an incident; James had been a jerk, and he admitted it. He even apologized later on … in his own way, but he did.

Even though Keith never actually hated him, his walls were way too up for him to reach, and James didn’t know how to climb at the time. Nowadays, he still had no idea how to climb, but he had sufficiently learned enough patience to find other ways up.

There’s always been this rivalry going on, and he treasured it more than anything else. It was what kept them in the same wavelength.

That made James thought that he and Keith were the perfect complement, like better halves. While Keith Kogane was a natural, James worked hard. Keith was reckless, and James was composed. James followed rules, Keith followed his instincts. Where Keith missed a family; James had to live with the expectations of his.

There were stolen glances and hidden smirks after simulations. Unorthodox motivations were left whenever any of them didn’t manage an excellent grade.

James Griffin could alphabetize all of their pushes throughout their Garrison days. The list was long and it would take him a few days, but he could do it.

Then, this Lance boy came in; and self-proclaimed himself Keith’s rival, and James was not having it.

James snorted when he next spotted the Cuban, it was so easy to set him off if he was being honest. And it was easier for James to get closer to Keith to reel the boy. He might have let them all know at the Garrison his sentiments while making his point clear to McClain.

In all honesty, to throw little McClain under the train in front of the cafeteria was not one of his most brilliant moments. It was something only a bully would do. But he had had enough!

“If you manage to be cargo pilot that’d be your most exceptional achievement,” James said sourly. His book was clenched against his torso. “To proclaim yourself Keith’s rival? Ha,” he arched a brow incredulously. “Keith only deserves the best, and that is not you.”

Thinking back to that time, James wasn’t nice, and his actual self would like to punch his past-self hard in the face. No one accused him of nothing, he didn’t break any rules, so he was fine to let his mouth run out.

After all, Keith deserved the best, and James was the best. The only person fitted to be his rival was him.

That was his first slip. (And it didn’t end that day, but continued even when, said boy decided to badmouth the best pilot the Garrison has had in so long. No one called Keith Kogane a drop out or other unpleasant things. If that lower range pilot thought he was Keith’s rival, then he should learn rivals are supposed to respect each other.)

If the violet eyes of Keith followed him curiously for a week after that, he didn’t care enough to acknowledge them.

Second slip.

It happened the day Keith was expelled from the Garrison.

He had run all the way to Keith’s room, he was out of breath and wanted answers. There must be something they could do to avoid it.

He found Keith packing his his few possessions, there was a knife in his hand. James’ heart was drumming in his dull ears, he knew Keith, right? He wouldn’t…? He saw with relief how the boy exhaled and set it aside, next to the rest of his belongings.

The exact words he said he could not remember, he felt terribly embarrassed at the moment that his brain decided to shut part of that memory. He had practically declared to him, that he recalled. And the jerk merely accepted it as a friend-foe thing.

Keith had a bitter smirk on his face as he told him they’d have another chance to race in the future. (Those last words of him, he knew they weren’t meant for him.)

'I should be happy, finally, I'm Galaxy Garrison's number one pilot and outstanding student.' He thought bitterly. His family was going to be ecstatic but he still felt empty. Without Keith there, who would provide him with the motivation to go on? Who was going to push and pull at his side?

Keith.

Where would Keith go? He had no one outside the walls of the Garrison. He was too old to go back to the home. Who would look out for him in dire moments? Where was Shiro, his protector? Shiro, it all happened because of Shiro and the undying loyalty Keith had on him.

James cried uncontrollably that raw night because not only Keith Kogane was the most oblivious and emotional constipated person he knew, but also because he was no one when compared Takashi Shirogane. And of course, Keith would go out looking for the best.

James not only felt heartbroken and abandoned, but he felt inferior. All their lives, James Griffin and Keith Kogane had been equals, but that day, Keith’s controversial departure made James feel like he was nothing but another cadet at the Garrison.

Third slip.

The day Sam Holt started the MFE’s program. James felt he was doing that for Keith, his family, and Earth.

When the information about Keith (and the others’) whereabouts came to his ears to hear. James breathed again, for he was going to fight side by side with him, and a new path was going to be forged for them.

But of course, that was Keith Fucking Kogane he was thinking about. He wasn’t sure of what Space magic happened to him, but he was different. Not only physically. James could sense a new … something in him. He couldn’t explain it; he just knew he wanted the Leader of Voltron to look his way, which he did.

That didn’t end up well, for James just walked away. What was he supposed to say after so many years?

“My problem is,” James confronted. “I don’t want to see our only hope for saving Earth get hurt.” He smirked a distinctive Keith kind of smirk. “That’s why we’re coming with you.”

For all one knows it could've been a hallucination, or maybe Keith’s visible expression softened at that. Truth is he was too scared to find out. Especially when he realized, a few days later—while he was piloting with Keith in order to get the Lions— that he may have declared it while he locked eyes with Keith.

He didn’t want the paladins of Voltron to get hurt; that was genuine. Deep down he undoubtedly knew he had meant that specifically, if not only, for Keith Kogane.

He also realized just how well he knew the leader of Voltron. Because for what other reason would he be waiting for him —and Hunk—in the hangar with Veronica, if he didn’t already know Keith’s tendency to defy curfew.

The trip to retrieve the Lions wasn’t awkward at first, now it felt like a torturous journey.

The good thing was they weren’t a pair to talk much. And even if they were, the situation was too tense for them to want to engage in any kind of small talk.

Fourth slip.

The invasion came to an end. Earth won.

James had no time to celebrate their victory, for he knew it had been a victory for them, but Voltron kept on fighting. Keith and the others were still out there fighting, and their destiny depended on them.

And once the battle of Earth was done for good … James and the rest froze as they watched Voltron fall. Atlas could do nothing to avoid it, the Lions crashed hard in different places.

For the first time in his life, James intentionally broke formation. He went on as fast as the thrusters allowed him to, he needed to instantly reach the Black Lion. His throat was closed and he was sweating. His stomach told him to turn around and go back to the base, but his hands kept the course to Keith.

He arrived late to where the Black Lion was. The engines were off, and a massive crater cradle the head of Voltron. James was late, he didn’t know if Keith was still alive or … he shook those thoughts out of his head. Shiro was there already—of course, he’d be. James remained in standby.

The Paladins of Voltron were alive, all of them. Ones more stable than the others, but alive was a good thing.

James liked going to Keith’s hospital room every once in a while—

Three or four times a day. Rizavi had counted them—but the leader hadn’t woken up yet. Soon enough, wormholes started to open and the destroyed streets of Earth were occupied by aliens, members of the Coalition and more.

A tall, physically strong and ... purple woman was inside of Keith’s room. He looked at her and swore that if he weren’t gay, he’d be crushing on her hard. She was seated on the bed next to the sleeping paladin.

Was she a member of the Blade of Marmora? That group Keith joined a long time ago and held the secret to his past.

Realization hit him hard. They might have won a battle, but he knew they’ll part ways once again for their foe was still roaming the Galaxy. Either he left with Voltron of the Blade; Keith was slipping through his fingers.

James choked on a high pitched sob, thing that made the woman turn to look at him. Her yellow eyes, soft while staring at the sleeping man in bed, turned sharp. “Are you one of my son’s friends?” She asked him, tone wary. James lost his words; he nodded, nonetheless.

His affirmative answer made her relax in the same way Keith always did. Stiff shoulders became slightly slouched, sharp eyes softened a little, and her face turned a few degrees like a curious cat would.

She was definitely Keith’s mom, and she was an alien.

James left the hospital room baffled, it had been rude, he didn’t even introduce himself to the woman nor he got her name. He should apologize later, at that moment James needed space to breathe.

James Griffin didn’t show up again near his rival’s room. He heard the news; he had woken up, and he was glad for that. He still visited the Hospital. He just didn’t approach that specific corridor.

The feeling of uneasiness was still nagging at him. He’d made up his mind, though. Wherever Voltron headed, he was going with them.

He was an MFE’s pilot, therefore, he was part of the Coalition. The news about Keith’s alien heritage wasn’t that hard to swallow, he had always thought there was something special about the leader of the paladins. Keith was a genius, he was not going to deny that, but … it was just, so many things made sense now.

The Galaxy Garrison offered an elaborate ceremony and a small banquet after the full recovery of their saviors. That was precisely the moment James instantly saw Keith again.

He was standing tall with his mom and the other alien that never left their side. Captain Shirogane was with them, and James just kept walking soberly toward them, toward Keith Kogane. He had so much to say, and if he didn’t say it at that moment, he feared he wouldn’t be able to do so ever again.

But, the moment he was face to face with the Black paladin, he said nothing.

Something in his mind screamed ‘Fuck it!’ so he grabbed Keith by the collar of his Garrison uniform and pulled him in for a kiss.

He kissed Keith. At the Garrison Ceremony, in front of everybody … in front of Captain Shirogane, in front of his alien mother … he kissed Keith to all the Galaxy to see.

And Holy shit! Keith’s mom was an alien! Not only that, but she was part of the race that tried to conquer them. And she was insanely tall and strong.

James gulped, he was no match for that.

He promptly broke the kiss, he didn’t think all of that through. He was in deep shit, now that he thought about that. And Keith wasn’t saying a single word, the bastard only had his head tilted like a cat.

“Mom,” Keith said softly. He never spoke that soft, not even to Shiro. “This is James,” Keith’s lips drew the most cunning and insufferable smirk he’s seen in his life.

“Mhmm,” was all the alien … Keith’s mom said. She was eyeing him. So did the other one, the furry one with the braid.

It was then it occurred to him that the way Keith introduced him sounded as if he had already talked about him. James Griffin was royally screwed.

The taller alien walked fearlessly toward him. They were face to face, it was more like face to mighty chest, that man was huge. James gulped once again, he looked over at Keith, who was still smirking.

“Next time,” started the man, his voice was deep and authoritarian. “Bring a high-quality blade.”

“Kolivan,” said gently Keith’s mom. “This is Earth. They don’t give blades for courting.” She let out a small laugh, “I should know, Keith’s father freaked out when I tried giving him one.”

“It is a sacred tradition, Krolia,” the furry alien responded. Keith was still laughing.

James was so confused, he didn’t know what was happening. Technically he properly understood the conversation; he was not stupid. But the background of it all was confusing. He looked wonderingly at Keith for proper answers.

“In Galra, when you are courting someone you should bring a blade with you.” Keith saved his poor brain for going into overdrive. James blinked a few times. “I don’t really need it. This is the boldest thing you’ve done so far."

He choked on his own saliva. “You knew?”

“You weren’t exactly subtle,” Keith answered. “I was waiting for the day you’d say it properly.”

“Say what?” James growled.

“That you liked me,” Keith strategically placed his muscled arm around James’ neck, it was Keith’s turn to pull him in for a fervent kiss.

Wolf-whistles were heard here and there.

They carefully broke the kiss the moment they realized there were more people around them.

“How was that a proper confession?” James couldn’t help the nervous laugh escaping his lips. He settled his evident embarrassment aside.

“I’m half Galra and an active member of the Blade of Marmora,” Keith said as if it would explain everything. “Even the smallest victory is worth it.”

“My mom is not going to believe my in-laws are aliens."

#jamesandkeith week #james&keith week #james x keith #jeith #jaith #james griffin #keith kogane #jaith week #fanfiction #confessions #I'm so sorry I disappointed #I tried #day 1

[not-the-usual-suspects]

“Are you sure you’re okay to stand on your own?” Serenity had a small frown on her face; Aarin wavered a bit in place, as though he still hadn’t fully recovered from the operation.

He gave her a smile in response. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “I just need to get moving.” He looked back over towards the hallway. “Besides, we need to worry more about him anyway.”

She nodded, and followed Aarin’s gaze with a small sigh. The adjustment from sharing a body to having one of his own would be a tricky one. But he already had the basics down. For the most part. She just wondered what modifications Tom had been instructed to make; apparently, the AI hadn’t been too happy with the standard body he’d been given.

After a moment she looked back to Aarin, then lightly smacked him upside the head. He blinked, then looked to her with a frown. “The fuck was that for?”

“For leaving and not telling anyone outside of a note.” She knew she was being hypocritical, in a sense, but the message seemed to stick.

Aarin stared at her for a moment, then smirked. She knew he would say something sarcastic. “Okay. I’ll let you know personally when I’m about to do something stupid.”

She rolled her eyes in response, and he laughed at her reaction. Serenity had already told Joseph that they would be back before curfew, but it seemed like the other male had decided to take his time with his appearance. She perked up a bit when she saw Roll appear around the corner, a small hint of frustration on her face. “Has he always been that difficult?”

Aarin shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah,” he replied. “He’s a fussy asshole, but don’t tell him I said that.”

“I’m pretty sure he already knows that,” Serenity pointed out. “Given that he was in your head, and all that.”

Aarin opened his mouth to respond, but Tom’s voice brought their attention back to the hall. Serenity could tell that he was giving instructions, which meant that Forte was finally up and walking around on his own. “So, if anything feels out of place within the next forty-eight hours, don’t hesitate to let us know,” he said as he came out from the hall. “I’ll be happy to stop by and patch anything up.”

The Machine stepped around the corner, and Serenity took in how he’d chosen to look. She had expected him to take after Aarin, but even his clothes signified that he was far different. He had on a pair of boots that were fashioned to look like dress shoes; his pants and shirt looked as though they’d been neatly pressed, or freshly pulled out of the closet. Then she actually took in his features. He had lightly tanned skin, and dirty-blonde hair that fell down around his face a bit, with black highlights throughout. Small golden marks were pale against his face and formed stretched out diamonds over his eyes, which were a vibrant red color, and appeared almost animalistic.

Aarin let out a small whistle. “Not bad,” he complimented. “I didn’t take you for a more ‘dressy’ kind of person, but hey. Looks good on you.”

Forte glanced over to him with a small huff, then tried to adjust something underneath his sleeves. Tom took note of this and chuckled a bit. “It’ll take a while for you to be used to your new body. Just give it some time.”

Serenity gave Forte a gentle smile, which the Machine took note of. He wasn’t sure how to respond, and averted his gaze some. She let out a small sigh, then pushed herself up off from the wall. “Okay, if there’s nothing else, then we can head back before it gets to be too late.”

“Works for me.” Aarin made slow movements so that he didn’t fall, and Forte kept himself close to Serenity as he continued to fuss over his clothes. She chuckled a bit, and gave him another gentle smile... which he actually returned for a moment.

She had a gut feeling; things were about to get much more interesting around the house, that much she knew for sure.

#The Phoenix [Serenity] #The Hidden Weapon [Aarin] #The Warmonger [Forte] #The Dutiful Maid [Roll] #The Legacy Incarnate [Dr. Light] #[closed; update] #[closed; plot related] #[open for questions]