#ALL HAIL THE VOMIT SCENE

[selcouth-vast-poet]

okay i tthink i did it YIPPEEEE

#I FINALLY TOOK A GOOD PICTURE GOOD GOD #taking my words back that is a very mid picture at best #but. i cant stress abough how bad my camera is #that mark scene where he sobs and vomits after seeing his friends mothers corpse is probably. the one embedded more in my brain #poor guy... love seeing you suffer though! #the other ones just alt!cesar being so so silly! maybe a little joking around even #dont ask about the unfinsihed hood on marks drawing. its all in your head. not real /j #hail true body au #OH WAIT I FORGOR #tw emetophobia #my art

[scar-crossedlvrs]

All hail ID! Leon!!! I’m wondering how he would reacts when his Reader! young gf got kidnapped or been taken as hostage. Let’s just say maybe she got at the wrong place wrong time? Chris and Leon partnered up to save her 🫢 (I don’t want Leon go thru this alone, he got enough shit already tbh)

(I don’t know if you’re gonna write this up or not but whatever it is, stay safe and take care of yourself gorl 🩵)

Leon S Kennedy - Help Me

ID!Leon is my favorite Leon no questions about it. I have this headcanon that ID!Leon is the one with the most confidence in his skills & second most optimistic Leon era just due to his successes ( saving ashley and the ‘dozens of successful missions’ that shen mei references ). Anyway, watch me rip that all away in one fell swoop.

cw for : f!reader, kidnapping, swearing, blood mention, implied age gap (up to you tbh), reckless driving, chris redfield, it’s mostly just a mess of angst and anger.

gentle reminder that all of my works sfw or not are intended for 18+ audiences.

The inbox is open for requests.

How many times had he told you to lock the goddamned doors?

Fingers drum against the steering wheel as he weaves in and out of traffic. His phone trilled in his ear as he drove and the longer it rang, the more his gut bubbled with anxiety.

“Pick up the fucking phone Redfield.”

The scene was still vivid in his mind. Your front door slightly ajar as he pulled up to your house. Leon had immediately been put on edge by this. The overwhelming feeling of panic however, didn’t set in until he noticed the bright red smear across the white painted wood.

Inside the house wasn’t much better, turned over from top to bottom. Every single one of your meticulously placed photos and knickknacks were strewn smashed on the floor, broken glass, plastic and porcelain everywhere. All decorated with a spattering of red. The same scene played out in each and every one of the rooms. It didn't seem to be a run of the mill robbery though. Nothing of value was missing, nothing besides you.

The worst part was the way your phone went to voicemail every single time he called.

“Hello?”

Leon’s torn from his thoughts at the sound of the voice on the other end of the phone. Chris Redfield.

“Answer the phone any slower?” he’s snappy, frustrated, scared.

It must have been obvious, with the way the concern laced into Chris’s words. “Leon? Is something wrong?”

“She’s gone, Chris. The house is a mess and her phone just goes straight to voicemail. Someone was there, and I think they took her.”

The word vomit just spews from his lips as he switches lanes again, white-knuckling the steering wheel as icy eyes dart around. He’s not sure where he’s going, what he’s looking for. He’s not sure of anything anymore.

Had he gotten too cocky, too lax in his security? Everything had been going so well since Ashley. He had been saving people. What the fuck went wrong? Fuck, he should have pressed the issue harder when he asked you to move in with him. At least there he could have kept a better eye on you, kept you safe. This wouldn’t have happened.

Leon was spiraling.

“Are you still with me, Kennedy?” Chris’s voice broke through the haze again.

"Yeah." Barely.

"You sure she was at home? She's probably just not answering your calls."

Chris didn't know you, didn't know that you didn't just ignore phone calls, especially not his calls. You weren't just ignoring him.

"I wouldn't have called you if I thought she was just ignoring my calls. The place was torn up Redfield. Whoever it was, was looking for something. There was blood fucking everywhere." His words came out more aggressive than intended.

They had to, he needed to get his point across.

“Okay, yeah that’s bad. But I can’t just get clearance to do anything..”

“I’m not asking you to deploy the BSAA. I’m asking you to help me” Leon cut him off.

The silence that hangs makes him regret calling Chris. Had he made a call to the wrong Redfield? He should have just called Claire. She wouldn’t have hesitated so much, wouldn’t have wasted so much time. That was if she even picked up the phone.

Either way, for once, he couldn’t do this on his own. Not like this.

"Go home. I'll meet you there. We'll figure this out okay? Don't do anything stupid Leon."

"Yeah."

---

Your head is aching, forehead damp with sweat or blood ( you're not sure which ), feet sore and bloodied from stumbling through the shattered glass on your living room floor. Eyes are covered with a thick blindfold, and the room is dark and quiet.

All alone with your thoughts. Thoughts of how you ended up here. How you had been so distracted, unable to notice the men coming in through the unlocked front door. One snatching you up as the other set out to look for something, smashing everything in his path. Your screams fell on deaf ears, feet being dragged through the mess on the floor as you struggled to break free.

Until a sharp pain to the back of the head forced you into unconsciousness.

There's the sound of shuffling, metal clinking, and there's something pressed to your ear. A phone? There's a few moments of trilling rings before a voice answers with a panicked "Hello?"

"Leon?"

Your voice is hoarse from the screaming earlier, and tears sting at your eyes.

"Baby where are you?" You've never heard him sound like this, scared.

"I don't know, Lee. Help me. I don't know where I am. It's dark and I'm scared."

Before he can respond, the phone is pulled from your ear. The scream ripped from your throat as his voice was cut off by the phone being hung up. A sharp laugh caused a shiver to course through you as you struggled against your bindings.

"Think that got his attention, hm princess?"

________________________________________________

uh i don't know where I was going to go with this, meaning cliffhanger!!! one person says they want more & i'll plan out more <3

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy angst #tea writes things

[shakespearenews]

In 2019, Sandra Hüller, one of Germany’s foremost stage and film actors, starred as Hamlet in a production at the Schauspielhaus Bochum, in the Ruhr Valley. For most performers, the part is challenge enough. But as Hüller prepared for the role with the theatre’s artistic director, Johan Simons, their discussions kept drifting to the character who animates Hamlet’s fantasies of revenge: his father’s ghost. In most stagings, ghastly makeup and lighting convey that the character is spectral. Could this lingering spirit be conjured without melodramatic clichés? Simons and Hüller agreed that it would be potent for the father to rise from within the son—speaking through him. As Simons recently described the conceit, “The father is so deep in your soul that you can’t get away from him—he is always in you.”

In the opening scene of the modern-dress, German-language production, Hüller stood alone onstage, her hands hanging uselessly by her sides, her eyes downcast. In a trembling near-whisper, she spoke lines that Shakespeare originally wrote for Hamlet’s friend Horatio: “If there be any good thing to be done, / That may to thee do ease and grace to me, / Speak to me.” Hüller smiled faintly to hold back tears, and her voice broke as she muttered, “You are here, you are here.”

When it came time for Hamlet’s encounter with the Ghost, an eerie chord resounded, and Hüller’s soft, breathy voice suddenly dropped an octave. She was no longer Hamlet, or not entirely. “Pity me not!” Hüller said, her eyes hardening and her voice quickening as she channelled the Ghost: “I am thy father’s spirit, / Doom’d for a certain term to walk the night, / And for the day confined to fast in fires, / Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature / Are burnt and purged away.” As Hüller played it, Hamlet wasn’t seeing a ghost; he was being possessed by it. Hüller’s previously gentle demeanor was displaced by lurching motion, and when the Ghost furiously commanded his son’s obedience—“List, list, O, list!” in Shakespeare’s original—she practically vomited up the words: “Hör, hör, o, hör! ”

The scene was as scary to watch as any horror movie, but it also felt profound: the sins of the old were literally infecting the bodies of the young, emphasizing the generational rot at the heart of the play. German critics hailed Hüller’s performance as revelatory—not just as an examination of character but as an exploration of the capacities of stage art. Der Spiegel said that witnessing Hüller wrestle with Hamlet and the Ghost simultaneously was like watching “an exorcism.”

Before the show opened, Hüller read an essay that portrayed “Hamlet” as a critique of the conventions of Renaissance revenge tragedy—and of the society from which those conventions emerged. “Shakespeare wrote the play at the edge of these times when blood revenge was still a thing,” she told me recently. “Shakespeare’s showing it one more time, but in the most absurd way—because everybody’s dead at the end. The play is saying, ‘This can’t be the way.’ ” At the Schauspielhaus Bochum, the climactic duel between Hamlet and Laertes swerved away from physical violence: neither combatant would make the first move. Instead, Hüller and Dominik Dos-Reis, the actor playing Laertes, hurled the phrase “fang an”—“start”—back and forth, battling not just each other but the demand for a bloody confrontation. The moment culminated, as it does in Shakespeare’s text, in an unexpected gesture of forgiveness. “They shake hands before they die, and say, ‘We don’t want to be like our fathers,’ ” Hüller said. “And, to me, that is something that applied to the world as it is now. That seemed to be something that I could identify with. Not to redo all the things that our ancestors have done before but to change them—to break the chain.”

Hüller liked that the production showed the effect of violence without actually showing violence. “When you show violence, I believe, it must have a strong form,” she told me. “You can’t treat it like any other sort of narrative in a story. It means something when you show a rape onstage, or when somebody gets slapped in the face onstage. It is crossing a line.” Her voice, usually soft, shifted to a more forceful register. “I have heard a lot of directors point out, ‘Yeah, but that’s what’s in the story,’ ” she continued. “I know what’s in the story. But still, I can decide, because I am the artist, what to show of it, and what not. I can decide how I want to shape the world that we are building onstage.”

#Sandra Hüller #hamlet #theater #theatre #actors #acting #ghosts #fathers #staging #new yorker

[littlegodzilla]

New part from Hope!

I hope you like it!!

Enjoy!!

**

Hope.

Part 2. Babba!

Daryl Dixon x Reader.

Warnings: none.

Words: 1600

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @lilythemadqueen @darylsgarden @ruinedbythehobbit @thefemininemystiquee @xxtinasxxblog @hail-yourselves @ravenwings73

***

You have to admit that you have adapted well to life in Alexandria. The community is large, with a lot of different people, you have learned to get along there, you know the streets and most of its inhabitants, they are even looking for a job for you.

You love the peace, the calm that exists in that place, of course not everything is rosy, there are small altercations that the people manages to solve, some lost Walker, some group of unwanted people, more people who want to live in peace, some typical constipation of the season.

But what you love the most is Daryl.

Daryl and Hope.

You love watching them together. You don't know how to explain it, but Daryl and your baby have created a bond that you can almost say you're envious of. From day one, Daryl has taken care of you, now that Hope is there too, he's not separated from either of you. The first time Daryl held her in his arms you felt as if she was made for him, as if she was born the perfect shape and size to fit in his arms. A shy, but excited smile decorated the hunter's mouth and you felt your heart melt.

And it wasn't the only time.

Daryl would take care of Hope whenever you needed some time to yourself, whether it was because you'd had a bad night, like if you were feeling discomfort after childbirth, or just because you were feeling over the top with emotions. Daryl would lay with you with Hope between you and you felt yourself relax, physically and mentally grateful that Daryl was with you. One of those times you needed him with you, you both fell asleep, when you opened your eyes you discovered that Hope was sleeping peacefully on Daryl's chest, who was also sleeping comfortably, one of his hands resting on the baby's bottom to prevent her from falling.

You watched them sleep until he frowned and slowly opened his eyes, you witnessed how his cheeks turned reddish when he was discovered, but you didn't say anything, when Hope woke up you settled down to breastfeed her and Daryl took the opportunity to prepare some breakfast.

Your kiss? No one has talked about it, nor has it been repeated. It's like it's something that never happened.

You've been so focused on taking care of Hope, on making sure she's safe and well, on enjoying Daryl's attentions, on seeing them together, that you haven't thought about it again.

You're a little embarrassed and afraid, to tell you the truth, you were the one who kissed him, in a moment when you got carried away by your emotions. You don't know if Daryl feels the same way. Neither of you have acted strangely after that day, Daryl has continued to treat you as usual, you're not sure if that's a good thing or if he just doesn't care, or doesn't want to care, wanting you to understand that he doesn't want anything to do with you in that sense.

You are confused.

You go home after going to see Olivia that morning, Hope is starting to try some things other than feeding her milk, you have gone to get some fruit to make some puree or smoothies for your little girl. When you enter the living room of the house you discover Daryl playing with the little girl, he is lying on the floor lifting her up in the air, Hope doesn't stop laughing and brace and you smile, the first time Daryl did that didn't go well, Hope had just eaten and when he lifted her up and moved her in the air she ended up vomiting on the archer's chest. Daryl learned that if he wanted to play with Hope like that he had to do it before the baby ate or at least two hours later, so as not to get any unpleasant surprises.

You watch the scene in silence, Daryl is totally oblivious to your presence, all his attention focused on the little one in his arms, whom he rocks and swings in the air and then picks her up and brings her close to his face, biting her chubby cheeks or rubbing her nose. Hope is delighted with all the attention Daryl is showering on her and her squeals of excitement and amusement make you laugh.

Daryl slowly sits up, resting the baby against his chest, smiles at you and sits down on the floor, he sits Hope on his lap and the baby squeals and stretches her hands out to you when she sees you. You have never felt that your daughter prefers Daryl to you, you have never felt that your bond with your baby is not as strong as their and gestures like that prove it to you every day. Still smiling you walk over to them and kneel down kissing her cheek and holding her in your arms. Daryl watches you chewing on his lip, one hand stroking your little girl's hair.

"G'mornin'." He says to you with a growl in his voice.

"Good morning, did Hope wake you up?"

"Nah, I noticed when ya woke up this mornin'." He explains to you matter-of-factly as he shrugs.

That's one of the other things you've accepted naturally, you and Daryl sleep together in your bed, both of you attentive to any movement of Hope in her crib, you sleep together and some nights Daryl even cuddles you and you snuggle against his body.

But you've never really talked about it.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"No worries, what did ya bring?" he asks you curiously looking at the bags you put down to get Hope.

"Some food for us and fruit for Hope, the moms have given me some idea to prepare for her." You explain and hand it back to her, Hope sits on Daryl's lap and he holds her hands, but gluing her to his chest so she wouldn't fall. "I'm going to leave this in the kitchen, I'll be right back." You tell him and leave him alone in the living room again.

From the kitchen you listen to the small conversation Hope has with Daryl, the little girl barely mumbles words and squeaks, but nothing makes too much sense, however Daryl gives her his full attention and answers her when she seems to want to know his opinion. When you return to them, you sit down on the floor as well and Daryl brings Hope back to you, it's time to eat and you're surprised she hasn't protested about it yet.

"Babba!" the little girl shouts waving her arms at Daryl and you both freeze. "Babba!"

Daryl's face transforms into a nervous and worried grimace, Hope seems to sense his unease and she herself becomes a little uncomfortable. You manage to calm her in your arms and lift up your shirt. Daryl then stands up to give you privacy, he always does when you're ready to get a breast out in front of him, but he never moves too far away, he just doesn't look.

When you finish feeding her, you put her down on her playpen in the living room and walk over to Daryl, he's still nervous, biting his thumbnail, he looks sideways at you and lowers his head as if he feels ashamed of something he's done.

But Daryl has done nothing wrong.

"Daryl, listen..."

"I'm sorry..."

"Hey, don't..." You walk up to him and hold his hand squeezing it between yours. "Don't apologize, you have nothing to apologize for..."

"I'm ain't his father..." He whispers and tries to let go, but you grip him tighter.

"You're not?" You ask him back with a small smile. "I think we need to talk..." You tell him and you see him fidget nervously. "I love that you take care of Hope, it's wonderful to see you two together, but I have to ask you..."

"Y'know what I mean."

"You may not be her biological father, Daryl, but you've taken care of her since day one, even before she was born." You smile caressing her cheek. "If you just want to be her Uncle Daryl, it will be, but if you wanted to..." You blush now at the thought.

"Ain't wanna she thinks I replaced his father..."

"And she won't think that, when she's old enough to understand I'll tell her about her father, what he was like, who he was. But none of that will change what you mean to her."

"Ain't wanna her to hate me..."

"For God's sake Daryl, that's impossible, she adores you." You laugh softly and he smiles because he knows it's true. "There is a perfect bond between you, since day one and I would like it not to be lost, I know Hope will learn countless things with you, that she will never feel unprotected or insecure..."

"And ya?" Daryl hushes your words, his eyes fixed on you now. "W-what's goin' on between ya and me...?"

"That I don't know... I kissed you months ago, when Hope was born and... and you've never said anything..."

"I-I didn't... I didn't know..." He mumbles, lowering his head again.

Since he accidentally fell into your house, Daryl has never had a problem talking to you, he's always been straightforward and calm, but now he's a nervous wreck. He's not used to dealing with situations like this and even seems overwhelmed by the whole situation. He's not able to put it into words, but it's obvious that he has feelings for you too. You smile and move in again, kissing him very slowly. Daryl takes a few seconds before he responds, kissing you intensely, holding you by the back of the neck, pressing your bodies together, making you gasp into his mouth.

"Babba!" you hear across the room and the two of you break apart. "Babba!"

"I think someone needs you." You laugh against his lips. " go, I'm going to fix something to eat."

"Okay." He nods his head.

You watch as he turns away from you to walk back into the living room where Hope screams and laughs at the discovery of him, Daryl says something to her that you don't quite make out, but you smile anyway heading back into the kitchen.

A warm feeling settles in your chest.

"Babba!"

***

I hope you liked it!!

See you in the next stories!!

#my stuff #norman reedus #normanreedus #daryl dixon #daryldixon #twd fanfiction #one shot #daryl x reader #baby #dad daryl #not smut #fluff #fluff one shot #daryl twd

[jtheplante]

All Hail King Julien survey! 🎉

Feel free to copy & paste, then give ur own answers! 👍 Stolen from @fairfaxandy

1. What do you think about All Hail King Julien?

Worst show ever

2. When did you first watch the show?

I knew this show existed for years. WHY DID I SLEEP ON IT FOR SO LONG??? Anyway last June I think I finally gave the 1st episode a chance, I was bored & looking for something new. The 1st episode is only okay so I didn't think much of it. A few weeks later (early July) I decided to give the show a 2nd chance. Episode 2 is meh, but it was Episode 3 w/the absolute gay furry thirst trap that is Karl Fanaloka that won me over & sealed my fate to watch the whole show 🔥

3. Favorite season?

Season 2 is probably the best season of any show ever in history. Exiled as a whole is also amazing but sadly dips in quality for a couple episodes IMO

4. Favorite episode?

Um have u even watched my episode rank video?? I put s3e6 (Jungle Games) as my #1, but as time's gone on, I think it's really s5e11 (KJ Is Watching You AKA the Orange ITN Black parody episode). Ted is peak and this episode is his peak 🔥

5. Least favorite episode?

As said in my ep rank video!! The S3 opener - O Captain Where Aren't Thou (both parts). Jokes fall flat, KJ's parents are a pain to watch, & the pirate crew is so forgettable I can't name a single one off the top of my head

6. Favorite scene?

Um the whole show but the hardest I laughed at any moment was when Ted suddenly exploded on stage while singing for no f*cking reason

7. Least favorite scene?

s3e4 the episode basically opens with a minute of nasty visualized farts & everyone vomiting on each other. I like gross-out to an extent but this was TOO. MUCH.

8. Favorite characters?

1st: Ted my beloved 💗💗💗 he's so much like me it's scary

2nd: King Julien - a VERY close 2nd. His energy & ability to stay goofy in even the worst situations inspires me to be the same 🔥

3rd: Karl - Gay thirst trap hottie social reject misunderstood sad backstory creative genius who just wants love 😭😭😭

4th: Mort - Objectively the best fictional character of all time. Sure he delivers the funniest moments in animated history but I don't really feel a connection with him like I do the top 3

5th: "Uncle" Julien - sass and ASS 🍑🥵 I love villains who are unapologetically assholes. His redemption was forced & stupid

9. Least favorite character?

Maggie - I love farts but it 100% depends on who. If it's a hot guy then 😍😍😍 but this is an old woman so 🤢 & that's like her whole character

10. Favorite ships?

Jaurice - absolutely adorable couple, heck I get teary eyed just thinking about them, gosh I'm so gay. Anyway their ship is extra special b/c KJ is usually hedonistic & horni, but with Maurice it's so wholesome & romantic 🥺

Julieddy & Karlien - These 2 ships have their own unique dynamics, but I put them together b/c they're both a gay man desperately wanting a man they can't have. This kinda situation always fascinates me & I can relate myself...

Karl x Chauncey - we all kno who Karl wants the most, but the fact that he has a happy life with Chauncey makes me happy 😌

Pandy - Be gay do crime

Ted x Horst - tbh if Ted finally divorced & married a man instead, Horst is a genuine contender

Nurse Phantom & Dr. S - the way they bicker is hilarious

KJ x Rob - Gay booty bumpin hotties enough said

11. Least favorite ships?

Clage - I've already ranted about it a million times it's just crap

"Uncle" Julien x Zora - like I said, forced & stupid

Willie x anyone - Willie's too innocent y'all

12. Have you ever cried while watching?

I'm an overly emotional gay man I cry over litcherally everything. I practically choked to death crying the first time I saw Maurice fall 😭

13. Favorite songs?

-Theme song superiority 🔥🔥🔥

-True Bromance is a gay anthem for the ages

-All Eyes On Me (Photronique) 🔥🔥

-I also like Swagnificent & Big Stacks

#all hail king julien #ahkj #king julien #dreamworks

[meowcats734]

[Soulmage] Helplessness is Freefall

“Why am I in—” I started to say, but Witch Aimes shot me a scathing glare.

“You’re wasting my time,” she snapped, “and that means people are getting killed. If you try to poach someone’s girlfriend during wartime again, I’ll lock you in a slow room until the war’s over.”

“I didn’t try to—”

“Your word against his, and I’m not losing a capable light-wielder over a useless first-year. Now get to safety, you imbecile.” Before I could defend myself, Witch Aimes flicked a hand at me, and space twisted to swallow me whole.

###

Witch Aimes’ personal dimension was… bizarre. There was no air save for what she brought in with me; somehow, she’d anchored a spell of freedom to my soul, serving the twin purpose of keeping me breathing and pushing me forwards through the endless plane. That was good, because even though I could still see the chapel grounds around me, my body phased through them like they were cheap projections on smoke; I had no ability to do anything but flail in useless panic as Aimes’ spell sent me hurtling towards the theater. And for some reason, there was absolutely no sound save for the rushing of Aimes’ wind spell around me, leaving me with nothing to do but watch helplessly as buildings fell and soldiers died, all in total silence.

And I got a front-row seat to the entirety of the Battle of Silentfell.

In the sky, a fully-grown riftmaw whipped its sinuous body from side to side, slapping aside the tiny hearth dragons that were dive-bombing the monstrosity. I wasn’t sure why the poor, dumb reptiles were so intent on sacrificing themselves to irritate the beast, but I silently thanked them—if the riftmaw got off a breath attack, whatever it had aimed at would become nothing more than rubble. Arrows flew up at the aerial battle, exploding into fire when they broke, but some kind of spell was wrapped around the riftmaw, knocking aside the hail of enchanted munitions like snowfall in wind. Every now and then, a beam of light that outshone the sun would strike the riftmaw, so pure and intense that it left patches of scales burned and smoking, and the riftmaw would writhe in mute agony.

On the ground, the battle wasn’t looking any better. I blurred by scenes of frozen, brittle ruins and shattered corpses, and for a heartbeat I was on another battlefield, the bodies falling with I forgive you on their lips. Then I shot past Jiaola’s house and snapped out of it, just in time to see the old witch snarl in defiance, straining with concentration, as he defended his house and the civilians inside with a twenty-meter-wide dome of solidified air.

The people of the Silent City weren’t taking the invasion lying down, either. The militia had mobilized, and squadrons of disciplined, armored soldiers that hurled heat from their spears pushed back roving packs of Redlander witches, scattering when a heavier hitter came and holding what ground they could. Non-combatants ran damage control and defended civilians as they fled, sometimes paying with their lives. An old, determined woman slowed a falling boulder as dazed children fled from beneath it; a school nurse grimly healed what was left of a half-frozen soldier; a cafeteria cook dragged a wooden beam off an unidentifiable body.

As I neared the theater, I even saw Iola himself stride into battle, despite the admonishment of the teachers at the door. His face was twisted in a sadistic smile as he cast a spell that had no apparent immediate effects other than some mild skin burns—but the Redlands witches that he pointed at fell ill minutes later, vomiting and bleeding and dying a painful death.

Finally, Aimes’ spell spat me out at the other end of the portal, hurling me into the cramped interior of the theater. I materialized in a sealed, warded box—perhaps they were wary of enemies launching a sneak attack?—but after a teacher confirmed my identity, I was hauled out of the box and into the theater proper.

Lucet found me moments later, and her words tripped over themselves as they sprinted out of her mouth. “I’m sorry, Iola gave his version of the story first and Aimes wouldn’t listen to me, and he looked so smug until Aimes said she was going back to get you, and I didn’t want you to die, and—”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s out of your hands, okay?” I flinched as something exploded nearby, but other than a slight rain of dust from the ceiling, nothing happened. “Whatever happens from here on out, there’s nothing we can do.”

Lucet gave me a shocked look, then laughed. “Is—is that your idea of comforting? What about, like, ‘everything is going to be okay?’”

I gave Lucet a pained smile. “I’ve been here before, Lucet. It’s not going to be okay. People are going to die, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. All we can do is survive, and we’ve done that much so far.”

Lucet drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “Survive,” she whispered. “I can do that.”

We held each other in the darkness of the theater as destruction rained from the sky.

A.N.

Soulmage is a serial written in response to writing prompts. Stick around for more episodes, or join my Discord to chat about it!

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#writing #writing prompt #writers on tumblr #writblr #serial fiction #fiction #series #web serial #oc #soulmage

[beardedmrbean]

A Georgia police officer is being hailed as a guardian angel after saving the life of a two-year-old boy who had stopped breathing last week.

Woodstock Police Officer Barron Dixon was heading home after finishing his shift on Thursday when the call was dispatched, police said. Dixon, who was nearby the address, jumped into action without hesitation and was first on the scene.

FLORIDA MOM THANKS DEPUTY WHO CLIMBED BURNING APARTMENT BUILDING TO SAVE 2-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER FROM FIRE

"I think he is an angel sent here from God," the child’s mother, Yakema Harris, told FOX5 Atlanta of the officer. "His presence was very needed at that time."

Her son had started vomiting after they arrived home from daycare and then stopped breathing, she told the station. She called 911 and Dixon quickly arrived on the scene.

Dixon immediately began CPR and was able to resuscitate the child. 

"His eyes just opened. And once his eyes opened, the gravity of it all just hit," Dixon told the station, describing it as "a rush of emotion."

The boy was taken to a local hospital and was doing well, police said.

"Thank you, Officer Dixon, for being a family’s hero tonight," the department said following the rescue. "You represent our agency and our city so well."

Harris said that doctors are running tests to learn what happened to the child. ________________

👑👑👑👑👑

#nunyas news

[gnomeyflamingo]

✮ Crime Scene Revisited ✮

Alejandro:  "Stupid diseased cats. Projectile vomit everywhere! They got every tile! Are you sure we can’t get rid of them?”

Brielle: “No. This is our fate. You’ll get used to it, somehow. I’ll call a club gathering to clean the house while we’re at work.”

The Atherstones got a lot of cat visitors this morning and many attended the party 3 days ago.

Bartholomew Jr.: “Meow, I am still hungover.”

Cat twins: “Come play with us forever and ever."

Cleo: “It’s like returning to a crime scene. I’ve made so many bad decisions here.”

The Good Times club has gathered to clean and maintain the house.

Summer: “Is… Is this my whole purpose? To clean up cat vomit until I die of old age?

Yes.

Cassandra: “Time to wrench the toilet like a good club member. All hail our glorious leader Brielle.”

Brielle and Alejandro return home. Alejandro has been promoted to Friendly Lobbyist. Bella Goth tries to invite them over to see the new baby but this is like the fourth one and they’re tired.

After a brief nap, Alejandro decides to get a donation for his charity and to promote his cause. Bjorn is very receptive.

Alejandro: “All donations will go to the Murphy Bed bereavement fund.”

Bjorn: “I’m on board. *Sighs* So many of us have been lost to Murphy beds.”

Cleo: “Keep going. My life has been meaningless and empty. Please grant me the sweet release of death.”

Brielle: “What a weird cat. Anyway, Alejandro dinner is ready!”

Brielle: “My job isn’t that bad. After seeing the despair in that cat’s eyes as she begged me to end her, it really made me shift my mind set.”

(for app) >> Next Page >> Previous Page

❧ Back to the Legacy Archive

#ALGN1 Crime Scene Revisited #ts4 #sims #ts4 story #sims 4 story #sims legacy #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 #gnomey flamingo's legacy #Atherstone Legacy Gen1 #simblr #ts4 simblr #ALGN1P2P11

[ausetkmt]

Claressa Shields poses for promoter Dmitry Salita at the Downtown Boxing Gym, Wednesday, July 27, 2022 in Detroit. Promoters Carlos Llinas and Salita are pushing the sport in the Detroit area with a periodic series of bouts in smaller venues in hopes of bringing it back to the masses. Llinas and Salita each are aiming to promote several boxing cards this year. (AP Photo/Carlos Osorio)

DETROIT (AP) — Inside the MotorCity Casino one recent night, there were roars from the crowd as boxer after boxer was knocked out. A few laughs, too, when a fighter’s vomit stopped one bout and another was delayed because a competitor failed to put on a protective cup.

Watching from a front-row seat was Thomas Hearns, the revered fighter known as “The Hitman.” Now 64, he was hailed by the approximately 2,000 fans when hightlights were shown of his career that included titles in five weight classes.

“I like what I’m seeing,” Hearns told The Associated Press between fights on an 11-bout card. “Fighters are getting more action.”

The bad news for the event, and for Detroit’s once-fabled boxing scene in general, was that Hearns was easily the biggest name on hand. The best active boxer from Detroit is fighting this weekend on the other side of the world because his hometown does not host big-time bouts these days.

Former champion Tony Harrison (29-3-1, 21 KOs) is fighting Australian Tim Tszyu (21-0, 15-0 KOs) on Sunday in Sydney for the vacant WBO 154-pound title. Showtime will air the fight in the U.S. on Saturday night.

The 32-year-old Harrison, who was managed early in his career by famed trainer Emanuel Steward, had his fourth fight at the MotorCity Casino. His last fight in Detroit, though, was nearly a decade ago in the Cobo Center Ballroom.

Little Caesars Arena, home of the Red Wings and Pistons, has not had a boxing event and doesn’t have one on the calendar any time soon.

Claressa Shields warms up at the Downtown Boxing Gym, Wednesday, July 27, 2022 in Detroit. Promoters Carlos Llinas and Salita are pushing the sport in the Detroit area with a periodic series of bouts in smaller venues in hopes of bringing it back to the masses. Llinas and Salita each are aiming to promote several boxing cards this year. (AP Photo/Carlos Osorio)

“There’s no support for fighters no more,” Harris told AP from Australia, wearing a Detroit Tigers baseball cap. “It should be the highest support for fighting because people from Detroit, they know how to do one thing and that’s fight. Inside the ring. Outside the ring. Fighting paycheck to paycheck, rent to rent.”

While Harrison has trained in Detroit at his own gym, he has been forced to go from coast to coast and other countries to compete. The fighter known as Superbad, a nickanme Steward gave him, handed Jermell Charlo his only loss and took his 154-pound title in New York in 2018, then lost the championship in Canada a year later in an 11-round rematch.

Once-great Detroit boxing scene is fighting to make a comeback to relevance

Once a boxing capital, Detroit is trying to get up off the mat. And fighting to make a comeback in the ring

“It’s so sad that Tony doesn’t have opportunities here because he’s an accomplished fighter,” said Jackie Kallen, who was Hearns’ publicist and managed former champion and Michigan native James Toney. “Hopefully, he will win this weekend to help put him on the map with more people.”

Joe Louis, a famed boxer who moved to the Motor City as a child, Sugar Ray Robinson and Hearns represented the city as world champions and are regarded as all-time greats. Fighters from around the world, including former heavyweight champions Joe Frazier and Wladimir Klitschko, were schooled by Detroit-based trainers Eddie Futch and Steward.

When Louis started his career in the late 1930s and boxed for more than a decade, Detroit had more than 1.5 million residents and was the fourth or fifth-largest city in the United States, a foundational cradle of the nation’s automaking industry. The fights at Olympia Stadium and Cobo Arena, where the Red Wings and Pistons once played, were legendary for decades.

By the time Hearns was done throwing his feared right hand in 2006, the city had taken so many blows of its own over the decades that its population was knocked out of the country’s top 20 towns.

These days, the city and the sport are fighting to get up off the mat. But boxing is still here, if at a smaller scale.

In addition to the low-level professional fights, the sport will draw more than 1,000 competitors on March 25 for a weeklong USA Boxing qualifer in a convention center just down the street from “The Fist,” the 24-foot bronze sculpture that honors Louis in downtown Detroit.

Boxing is also used as a vehicle to enrich the lives of children with after-school programs.

“It’s not the sport of boxing that keeps the kid off the street,” said Khali Sweeney, founder and CEO of the Downtown Boxing Gym. “It’s the connection that you make with the kid. Boxing is just the icebreaker.”

Harrison’s gym, Superbad Fitness, also fights for children in Detroit to give them an athletic, academic and social outlet to stay off the streets.

“For me, winning in life is helping other kids be successful in life,” Harrison said.

A pair of promoters, Carlos Llinas and Dmitriy Salita, are pushing the sport in the Detroit area with a periodic series of bouts in smaller venues in hopes of bringing it back to the masses.

“That’s definitely the ultimate goal, to be at Little Caesars and be able to fill that arena the way we fill this consistently,” Llinas said backstage at the MotorCity Casino. “That just goes to show that people are hungry for boxing. What it is going to take is that next superstar that will develop from this, I like to call it a farm league.”

Llinas and Salita each are aiming to promote several boxing cards this year.

“I really believe that Detroit could and should be one of the hubs of professional boxing in the United States,” said Salita, who also manages women’s world middleweight champion Claressa Shields of Flint, Michigan. “The state of Michigan and the city of Detroit has produced some of the greatest fighters in our sport. Greatest fighters, greatest trainers. There’s such a rich boxing culture here.”

#Detroit #boxing #motor city #Detroit Boxing Scene

[sarcasmandships]

yellow | paul lahote

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

word count: 3.8k

angst, hurt + minimal comfort

trigger warnings: eating disorder, death, hospital/medical scene, vomit

paul imprinted on y/n nearly a year ago, it wasn’t something he ever wanted. in fact, he tried so hard to fight the imprint at first that he made himself ill.

paul was only just beginning to learn that he couldn’t fight off every problem he encountered. imprinting on y/n had been a harsh awakening for him, and he knew now that he couldn’t punch and kick his way through life.

that didn’t stop him trying though, he stared at the hole he’d just created in the dry wall of his bedroom. he was going to have to buy another poster.

“paul, are you still there?” y/n’s voice was muffled through the phone which lay face down on his bed, “i heard a bang.”

and paul could hear her concern so he snatched the phone and held it up to his ear, “yeah i’m still here don’t worry,” he sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“okay...” she said uncertainly, “are you alright?”

he was clenching his fists, his jaw, and every other muscle in his body, “yeah, yeah i’m fine,” he said, trying to maintain a light and airy tone as much as possible but the words just came out flat, “i should be asking if you’re okay.”

y/n took several minutes to answer, “you don’t need to worry about me paul.”

if only she knew that his entire life now revolved around worrying about her. about wanting to protect her, from the leeches, from every creep and asshole in this town, from every bout of stress or sadness.

“i never do anything else,” he tried to say jokingly, but his voice broke mid-way through the sentence and he punched his mattress.

“look paul...” he could hear her frowning through the phone as she sighed, “i gotta go to my appointment now but I’ll see you later for the bonfire, yeah?”

tears were burning in paul’s eyes as he croaked out a response, “yeah, do you need me to pick you up?”

“it’s all good, i’m going to emily’s first to give her a hand with the food so i’ll go down with her.”

“yeah, sounds great,” he said flatly, “i’ll see you there then.”

“bye paul,” she whispered and hung up the phone.

he launched the phone at the wall, and it shattered into chunks of useless plastic. he held his head in his hands and before he knew it, his whole body was racked with dry sobs.

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

he grabbed a pair of beat-up trainers from under his bed and pulled them on. he thundered downstairs and out the front door, ignoring the protests of his drunken father.

paul ran.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul,’ y/n would tease him.

maybe not, but he couldn’t do anything else because she wouldn’t fucking let him. y/n had always been stubborn but in the last few months she’d become increasingly closed off and defensive. if paul made the slightest attempt to ‘stick his nose where it didn’t belong’ then she’d shut him out for weeks on end.

being apart from her was agonising.

he used to think sam and jared were exaggerating when they talked about the pain of not seeing their imprints. but now he knew it was all too real and he couldn’t stand it, so paul had learned to bite his tongue so she wouldn’t give him the silent treatment.

that was something that did not come easy to him, but it was easier than not seeing her, not talking to her, not being close to her.

paul knew on some level it was selfish to let y/n play out her fantasises and pretend that everything was fine, he knew it was wrong for indulging her. but whenever he tried to confront her, to help her, then she would shut him out again and he couldn’t bare that.

it was raining heavily now, the hail stones battered off his exposed skin as he dove out of sight behind the tree line.

staying calm was not something paul was good at, he had to spend so much of his energy focusing on blocking out his anger and sadness and pain and anguish just to make sure he didn’t shift at an inappropriate moment.

but right now, he could smash through that blockade and let every emotion flood through his body as his flesh ripped and his bones snapped, and he shed his human form to leave a large, grey wolf in his place.

paul relished in the release, it felt good to finally let go of every negative emotion he was holding onto and embrace the wolf inside of him. he ran through the trees, taking in the smell of the wet earth and the salty sea air.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

y/n told him that once after a particularly explosive fight he’d had with his father. they sat on the beach, and she stroked his hair as he laid with his head on her lap. he told her he was going to leave home, she pointed out he had no money, he told her that he’d live in the streets if he had to.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’ she had said, her fingers entangled in his hair.

but y/n didn’t seem to adopt that mentality when it came to her own problems, and paul’s desire to protect her made her problems, his problems. and now he had an overwhelming number of problems that everyone kept telling him he couldn’t run away from, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

he kicked up soil and dead leaves behind him as he ran through the woods, the hailstones has subsided to a light drizzle which still managed to soak his fur. he paused to shake the water off him when he hear someone else’s voice in his head, someone else had shifted.

“hey paul.”

“hey jake.”

paul tried to shut off his inner monologue so that jacob couldn’t hear what he was thinking, he thought he was doing an alright job until-

“rough day, huh?”

paul growled.

“yeah i guess, y/n’s seeing her therapist right now....”

“is she getting better?”

paul could sense the concern in jacob’s thoughts but this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have right now.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

well, what the fuck else was he supposed to do? everyone kept telling him that he couldn’t run away but no one was offering any alternative solutions.

it was always ‘calm down, paul.’

‘you can’t fight your way out of everything, paul.’

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

well why the fuck not?

no one seemed to understand that he wasn’t running for his own sake but for everyone else’s. and most importantly, for y/n’s. it was excruciatingly difficult to keep those thoughts to himself and out of jacob’s mind, so he began running through the trees again to provide some kind of distraction.

“yeah, she’s going over to emily’s first to help out so i’m meeting her there.”

“do you think you might finally tell her tonight? it’s been nearly a year and she still has no idea....”

“she can’t handle it; she’s got enough going o,n i can’t burden her with all of this too.”

that was only part of it. paul was worried about how y/n would take the news that he, and all his friends were shapeshifting wolves that existed to protect the town from vampires. and even more concerning, how would she take the news that he had imprinted on her? y/n was too fragile right now, he had to protect her even if that meant keeping the truth from her.

but beyond that, he was worried that she wouldn’t accept him. paul had a crippling fear of rejection at the best of times, but the prospect of his own imprint rejecting him was unimaginable.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

maybe not forever, but for right now he was going to sprint as fast as he could.

***

the blazing bonfire crackled just meters in front of them and yet y/n was still shivering; paul wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close into his chest. she nuzzled into him and paul was filled with a burst of euphoria at their closeness. her eyes were barely open as she leaned into him, he tightened his grip on her frozen frame.

“are you okay?” he mumbled into her hair, it smelled like lavender.

she nodded slowly, “yeah, i’m just tired, today was pretty rough.”

paul frowned. he wished that they weren’t surrounded by so many people, they were sat a little away from the rest of the group, but they didn’t have the privacy he would’ve liked.

“do you want to talk about it?”

y/n sniffled, when paul looked down at her he saw tears slowly running down her cheeks and his heart shattered.

he pulled her in closer and wiped away the tears, “hey, hey what’s wrong?”

y/n just shook her head, “i don’t want to talk about it.”

‘you can’t run away from your problems, y/n’ he wanted to say.

“are you sure?” he asked hesitantly, desperately wanting to help but also not wanting her to clam up again.

she looked away from him; the glare from the roaring bonfire reflected in her glassy eyes. paul enveloped one of her cold, bony hand in his and squeezed it gently but her frown persisted. there was a hollowness in his chest as he stared at her miserable expression; paul knew he couldn’t punch away anyone’s problems but as it turns out, holding hands is just as ineffective.

“dr charles wants me to go to inpatient treatment,” she said bluntly, “he says my physical health is deteriorating too much.”

something twisted in his gut.

“but i thought you were…getting better?” he said cautiously.

paul knew that was a lie.

y/n knew that was a lie, but she was so good at pretending otherwise she had everyone convinced that she was getting better. everyone but him, and he didn’t want her to know that she wasn’t fooling him with the ‘i’m eating again, i’m doing great’ routine she had become so well-versed in.

“well, i’m not better,” she snapped, pushing paul off her as she leapt to her feet.

superhuman hearing or otherwise, everyone else around the bonfire heard y/n’s exclamation, and their heads snapped over to stare between her and paul. emily began to stand up but paul waved her off and she sat back down next to sam. he approached y/n slowly, tears continued to stream down her face but when he moved to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she pushed him away.

he held up his hands, “okay, okay – i won’t touch you, why don’t we go somewhere quiet to talk-”

“no,” she snapped, “i don’t want to talk paul, all i ever do is fucking talk about my feelings and as long as i say the right things then everyone thinks i’m better, but i’m not fucking better, okay?”

“i know,” he roared back, “i know you’re not better, in fact you’re getting worse. i watch you get sicker every single day, i watch you withering away, i watch you dying and there is nothing that i can do because you won’t let me.”

y/n bit her lip and looked away from him.

tears were burning in paul’s eyes, “i can’t make you better, i can’t make you eat, i can’t look after you and it’s killing me.”

“i never asked you to look after me,” she screamed back, tears flowing freely down her face now, “i don’t know why you think it’s your job to keep me alive but it isn’t-”

“yes, it is!”

paul was shaking now, he was trying to hold onto his humanity with every fibre of his being, but the pain and anger was overwhelming. he was reaching his breaking point. he tried to focus on y/n; she was his anchor and usually the thought of her, focusing on the sound of her heartbeat was enough to calm him down. but usually, she wasn’t the focus is his anger, and now when he looked at her all he saw was how frail and weak she looked.

she was dying and she wouldn’t let him help her.

everyone was staring now; paul didn’t want to be on this beach anymore, he couldn’t deal with this right now. it was all too much; his head was spinning and his limbs were trembling.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam leapt to his feet, ready to jump in and tackle paul to the ground as he lurched towards y/n. but instead of shifting and attacking her, he grabbed her hand and led her away from the bonfire and the rest of the pack.

“paul what are you doing?” y/n asked through chattering teeth.

she didn’t try to fight him off but paul knew this was more likely a sign of her lack of energy, and not her willingness to go with him. they were at the edge of the beach now, where the sand bordered with the rough concrete path that led back towards the heart of la push. paul stopped in his tracks and turned to face y/n as he heard her breathing become increasingly shallow.

he studied her intently, emaciated body, pale lips, hollow cheeks. he could hear her heart beating slowly and irregularly inside her chest, he could see her struggling to catch a breath. despite her weakened body she stared back at him, with a clenched jaw and arms crossed across her chest.

“you can’t run away from your problems, y/n,” he finally said.

she snorted, “i’m not you, paul.”

“no, but you’re my impr-” he stopped himself before he revealed too much and ran a hand through his hair, “you’re my best friend y/n i-”

“no, jared is your best friend,” she said pointedly.

“for god’s sake can you stop being difficult for two damn seconds?” he snapped.

she let out a shrill laugh, “right sorry, i forget i’m just an inconvenience to everyone around here, i should just go.”

paul grabbed her hand before she could turn away from him. he towered over her, but when their eyes met it was like nothing else mattered. in every second of his existence, paul was acutely aware that gravity and the laws of nature didn’t bind him to the earth; she did. and when she looked into his eyes like that it only reminded him that she was his everything, before paul knew it, his anger was melting away and there was nothing but pure euphoria flowing through his body.

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself. but in that moment, nothing else mattered except for the fact that y/n was standing chest to chest with him, and she was staring into his eyes. nothing else mattered; not her anger towards him, her disease, his feelings of helplessness, his fear of rejection.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“do you believe in soulmates, y/n?” he asked breathily.

“what?” she asked; her breath billowed out of her chapped lips and hung visibly in the cool september air, thick, like cigarette smoke.

he took a deep breath; it was now or never.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“y/n, there’s something i have to tell you-”

she was the first to break eye contact with him, her pupils dilated suddenly, and her eyes fluttered shut. she managed to grip onto his bicep lightly as she collapsed, but her hand turned limp and rolled gently onto the sand as she lay unconscious in his arms.

***

“clear!” carlisle hollered.

paul reluctantly dropped y/n’s hand as carlisle pressed the paddles to her chest and sent two hundred volts of electricity searing through her lifeless body.

he frowned at the consistent flatline on the monitor, “push ten of epi and charge again,” he ordered the nurse, resuming chest compressions as he waited for the next round of medication to be administered.

paul grabbed her hand again while he had the chance, she was already turning cold. the blood had drained from her face, and paul couldn’t focus on her heartbeat to calm him because she no longer had one.

“clear!”

they repeated the routine they had been performing for the last several minutes; paul let go of her hand, carlisle shocked her, the flatline remained.

the nurse shook her head, “asystole,” she said flatly.

“what does that mean?” paul asked frantically, he looked between carlisle and y/n, “why aren’t you helping her?”

carlisle retrieved a neuro torch from the pocket of his lab coat, peeling back y/n’s eyelids he shone the light over each of her eyes, “pupil’s are fixed and dilated,” he said to the nurse.

“why are you stopping? fix her!” paul wailed.

“i’m sorry paul, there’s nothing else we can do for her,” he said softly, “time of death, 19.08.”

the nurse nodded and made a note on y/n’s chart before exiting the trauma room, leaving just paul, sam, and carlisle in the room with y/n’s lifeless body.

paul didn’t cry, or scream, or phase into a giant wolf. he stood by y/n’s bedside, clutching her hand in his and staring straight ahead at the monitor she was attached to. it continued to let out a continuous, monotone beep. sam, who was just waiting for paul to explode, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder; paul didn’t have the energy to push him away.

“bring her back,” he croaked.

carlisle looked between paul and sam, “i am very sorry for your loss, paul, but there is nothing else i can do, she’s gone-”

“well bring her back!” he roared, falling to his knees as he continued to clutch y/n’s hand, “you fix her, you bring her back, you change her i don’t care-”

“you know i can’t do that-”

“yes, you can. you’ve done it before, change her i don’t care if she’s a vampire just bring her back,” he sobbed.

“paul, we can’t violate the treaty,” sam barked.

“i don’t give a fuck about the treaty,” he turned his head to snarl at sam, “bring her back right now doc or i swear to god i will-”

“i am very sorry paul, but even if i wanted to change her i couldn’t, it’s too late. there are some things even venom can’t fix, even if i tried the venom wouldn’t be able to circulate her body without a heartbeat.”

paul rose from his knees and dropped y/n’s hand. he was robotic as he began chest compressions, despite protests from carlisle. sam tried to pull paul’s arms away from y/n, but he shoved him off roughly and continued to rhythmically administer cpr.

“paul, you need to stop,” carlisle said, “she’s gone – that isn’t going to help her.”

he ignored him.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’.

he wasn’t running anymore.

for once in his life paul was facing his problem head on.

he wasn’t running anymore.

he was doing what everyone always wanted, and yet sam and carlisle were trying to stop him.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam and carlisle winced as there was an audible crack.

“you’re breaking her ribs, paul,” carlisle said, attempting to remove paul’s hands from y/n’s body but he flinched away from the vampire’s icy touch.

carlisle looked at sam pleadingly; sam nodded briefly at him before reaching forward and attempting to drag paul away from y/n’s body. he resisted, struggling against sam’s grip as he maintained the rhythmic compressions. his vision blurred in front of him, refusing to take on the scene before him.

he never got a chance to tell her about the imprint.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

she never regained consciousness after she collapsed.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

he never got to say goodbye.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

he never got to tell her he loved her.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam was dragging him backwards, away from y/n; his rigid grip kept paul’s arms pinned to his sides and stopped him from reaching out to cling to y/n.

paul couldn’t breathe.

everything was spinning.

the harsh, fluorescent hospital lights burned his watery eyes; he wanted nothing more than to sink down into darkness till he could awake from this nightmare.

y/n couldn’t be dead.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“someone will need to contact her family, they will need to make arrangements,” carlisle commented quietly, “ i will call them myself if you give me the number.”

“this is my fault,” paul choked out.

“what?”

“it’s my fault,” his voice caught in his throat, “i let her slowly kill herself because i didn’t want her shut me out.”

“y/n was sick for a long time paul-” carlisle began.

“and i could’ve fixed her, but i was too selfish to let her go and now she’s gone forever.”

his knuckles turned white as he gripped the metal pole that ran along the side of y/n’s bed, he couldn’t bring himself to look at her body.

sam placed a hand on his shoulder, “there’s nothing you could’ve done paul, you already did everything you could for her - you can’t love someone back together.”

“what if it was emily?” paul snarled, “would you be so calm and condescending if it was your imprint lying dead in front of you?”

paul’s heart pounded in his chest, he was still unable to look at her. he wanted to remember her alive and breathing, not like this.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“if you’ll excuse me, i should get started on some paperwork,” carlisle said quietly.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

“c’mon paul, you should get out of here.”

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

his eyes flickered up, and the sight of y/n’s corpse sent acidic vomit bubbling up his throat and into his mouth. he turned sharply on his heel and choked out his stomach contents into a bin in the corner.

after he composed himself paul did what he did best.

he ran.

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #twilight #twilight imagine #twilight wolf pack #sam uley #emily young #paul lahote imagine #angst #hurt and comfort

[seasaltmemories]

Regret

Rating: T

Summary: When the nurse finished her tale, Celica promised herself that she would never become such a pitiable woman. [Arranged Marriage AU] [Trigger Warnings]

~

The first time Anthiese remembered meeting her father was when she was eleven.

A year after the villa was attacked, Sir Mycen sent a letter to Novis declaring all of Desaix collaborators jailed or executed. Since heirs were now in a sudden short supply, her father had decided it best for her to join him at Zofia Castle.

She had only started to allow herself to view the priory as a home the prior month; nevertheless, Anthiese followed the dark-hair mercenary back to the capital without complaint. With both a decade and the fire under her belt now, she didn’t feel like a child anymore. And because eleven was the oldest she had ever been, she thought that meant she must be ready to be an adult now.

For all her poise, though, it didn’t make that first night in one of the castle’s guest-rooms any easier. It was furnished with the same silks and mahoganies of the royal villa, and no matter how much she tried to reason with herself that such similarities were only natural, she still found herself dreaming that she was choking on ash. That morning she woke up convinced she was buried in the villa’s rubble and scrubbed her cheeks near raw.

Her nurse had scolded her once the episode passed and spent the rest of the morning brushing powder on her face. If she couldn’t act like an adult, then maybe she could at least try to present herself like one.

She hated the process, feeling like a porcelain doll being painted and brushed to perfection. But if someone ever took the time to ask her what she wanted, she didn’t know if she would have protested in the slightest. She suspected she wouldn’t have been able to explain at all what she expected from this journey. It was only the distance that memory provided that allowed her to give words to such a childish desire. That if she bore all her pain with grace and determination, somehow, someway she’d be rewarded.

And so, Earth Mother, she tried. She tried to hold her head high and approach the throne as if it was where she belonged.

The man who sat before had hair as red as hers. It shouldn’t have been all surprisingly, but Anthiese found herself clinging to detail all the same. She liked to think she had never needed him before in her life, but it was thrilling to imagine he might need her in return. So she went through whole ritual of curtsying and giving her most genuine respect.

When she lifted her head again, she found her father looking at her as if he was meeting a god. Trembling, he extended a swollen red hand.

“Liprica?” It was barely a murmur, but the stink of his wine-soaked breath still overwhelmed her. When he moved to cradle a curl of hers, she couldn’t help but recoil.

His eyes widened, as if coming out from a waking dream, and somehow she knew in that instant that he’d never look at her with that same reverence ever again.

It didn’t take long for him to dismiss Anthiese back to her chambers. Once there, the cool mask of maturity she had been weaving since she had received the missive fell apart. She found herself bawling like a newborn, kicking and screaming at any of the maids that tried to restrain her.

Then, like a flash of lightning, her nurse struck her across the cheek. The fear and pain that followed was so overwhelming, Anthiese went silent almost immediately.

“How dare you behave in such a selfish manner! What kind of daughter refuses her own father’s affections?!”

Something deep inside of her started to catalyze. She didn’t quite know what she was becoming, but she had the feeling she wasn’t quite Anthiese anymore.

“Who is Liprica?” It felt dangerous to ask, but the question fell from her lips before she could take it back.

The nurse furrowed her brow in pity. Surprisingly, she picked up the child and gathered her in her lap. In the last show of tenderness she could remember, the nurse recounted the story of the only woman the king had ever loved.

When she finished her tale, Celica promised herself that she would never become such a pitiable woman.

~

When Celica awoke in Mila’s cell, she felt that same sense of transformation pull at her limbs. While her memory and vision came back to her slowly but surely, some third, indescribable part of her seemed to leak out onto the ground. Like a cocoon cracked open before it could hatch into a butterfly, if she was supposed to become someone else again, she had no clue anymore on how to get there.

She liked to think it was courage or bravery that compelled her to stand, but that felt too optimistic a conjecture to make. Picking up Falchion and climbing past the torn cell bars seemed more muscle memory than anything deliberate. She didn’t know what could possibly be fueling her at this point. With each breath she swallowed, she tasted the ash that still lingered in the air.

Earth Mother...

She didn’t know if it was a prayer or a curse. As much as Celica rather forget it, the memory of Mila’s grasp had been burned into her memory. No matter how many times she went back to try and construct a different version of events, Mila’s claws seemed to tear into her mind each time.

You didn’t take imprisonment gracefully either...

Celica’s mind drifted back towards the Rigelian maid she burned. She must have seemed just as monstrous and terrifying as Mila in that moment. Guilt swirled inside Celica’s stomach like a storm, but she tried to channel it into something positive. If there was hope for her, then perhaps Mila might calm with time.

Are you sure you’re so above reproach?

Celica bit her lip and pressed forward into the darkness of the tunnels. Perhaps this whole underground was her cocoon. She wouldn’t be able to see what she’d become until she left.

~

It was dawn when Alm reemerged from his grief. Not because the pain had subsided or because he had somehow overcome it, but rather because he was simple too exhausted to sob any longer. All his pity and empathy had been wrung out of him like washing rag.

From the distance, he saw Berkut lead a squadron of soldiers up towards the bastion. And despite how he knew Father meant to Berkut, meant to everyone, a strange possessiveness overtook him. He found himself moving towards the top end of the ramparts, blocking any view of Father’s body.

“Alm--” Berkut struggled to catch his breath, eyes wild and unfocused. “--there you are! Do you have any idea what’s been--”

“I know!” Despite himself, Alm’s voice came out harsher than he wanted. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’ve just--”

As Alm struggled to find some words that might capture the last few hours, Berkut pushed past him. Alm couldn’t stop him before he managed to catch sight of the ugly scene.

“Uncle...” Those two syllables managed to break Alm’s heart all over again. There was a weakness to Berkut’s voice he hadn’t heard since the two of them were children. Alm leaned forward to comfort him; however before he could complete his embrace, Berkut gripped his forearms in a tight squeeze.

“Who did this!?” Berkut hissed.

Mila’s shadow hung heavy over the two men. This was a conversation that they had sworn to keep behind closed doors, but what were they supposed to do once everything had been blown open?

“It was her, wasn’t it? Never should have let her out of our sight!”

“What do you want me to do?!” Alm could feel what little control he had mustered start to fray. “He’s gone now! Nothing can change that! Not even a brand!”

Alm wondered what this must look to the outside world: Rigel’s two fine princes yelling like madman. All of Father’s hard work to crafting the perfect golden hero vanquished before he even had a grave to roll around in.

From that thought, the sorrow returned, stronger than ever before. However before the tears could return, Berkut dug his nails into his skin.

“Don’t you dare.” There was a dangerous calmness to his voice. “You don’t have the luxury of grief anymore. You have to be able to do what’s necessary for the country.”

He turned around to face the squadron. “Everyone kneel! You have the honor to bask in the presence of our sovereign emperor!” Berkut fell to his knees in front of Alm, and like dominoes, each following soldier did the same.

“All hail Albine Alm Rudolf II, may his reign be righteous and just!” The cry went out like a chorus, ringing across the ramparts. With each round, another further group repeated it, until the entire castle was shouting as one voice.

It took all of Alm’s willpower not to vomit.

When Berkut rose again, he was quick to issue orders about funeral and burial preparations. As the squadron dispersed Alm wanted nothing more than to fade into the wind--to let the one who truly wanted this responsibility take it. But before he could voice any of those thoughts, Berkut caught him off-guard with one final question.

“Do you have any idea if your wedding gift is still secure?”

Alm was puzzled for a moment. Wedding gift had been their code for Mila since his marriage was arranged. How could he go from recognizing her involvement to asking about her imprisonment?

Suddenly everything came together with terrifying clarity.

Where in the world was Anthiese?

~

Celica had trouble discerning how long she had been in the underground tunnels. There was no natural lighting to indicate if it was night or day. No people going about their daily routine. For all she knew she could have been unconscious for centuries, and spend another few running around in circles. The only way to prove herself wrong, would be if she kept pressing forward regardless.

On one hand the solitude was, all things considered, welcomed--she still felt too fuzzy to attempt any stealth maneuvers. On the other hand though, the further she ventured, the further she felt unmoored from the rest of the world. When she first descended down here, she had mostly followed the pain in her brand. Without its guide, she had no idea where to go.

After what felt like ages wandering in the darkness, Celica found a green feather lying at a crossroads. Immediately she ran up to it, as if it were a talisman that might save her soul. And while even under closer scrutiny, she couldn’t discern anything further about the feather, she noticed a fresh set of claw marks on the rightmost wall. Whether intentional or not, the Earth Mother had not completely abandoned her. And so despite all odds, Celica allowed herself to believe in the hope that she would not stay lost forever, that if she was meant to die, it wasn’t here.

For a moment, it seemed as if her hopes weren’t for nothing. In time her makeshift trail of plumage and scratches brought her to an room so warmly lit, it almost blinded her. Something about that orange glow tugged at Celica’s heart strings. The relief was so great, she almost believed she might be able to truly love Rigel. That she’d never need anything ever again, and she’d be good and obedient if it meant staving off the dread that seemed poised to swallow her whole. She couldn’t help but run to the light without looking back.

However as her vision adjusted, any comfort she had managed to dream up, evaporated in an instant.

From the slick marble tile and high-vaulted ceilings, she could tell that this once was a place of grand splendor. There was a strange nostalgia to the splintered benches and crumbling columns, but she found her gaze being drawn mostly to the broken slab at the far end of the hall. It was hard to say, but perhaps if she put all her attention to reconstructing what it could have been, then maybe the stench of death and decay would fade away. Things would go back to the way they were supposed to be, and she wouldn’t have to live in this nightmare anymore.

Celica didn’t realize she had continued wandering forward until she tripped and found herself on the cool floor. Blankly, she checked to see what had made her fall. She expected to find a loose stone or cracked board, but instead a limp, bruised arm laid sprawled across the path. When it twitched, she could help but shriek.

However rather than reach out and grab her, the arm did nothing but spasm weakly. Instead the true source of life came from the groan that echoed across the room. She followed the arm to find the source to be Jedah of all people, crushed under a pile of rubble.

“Anthiese...is that really you?” His words were slurred and difficult to make out. The only sign of life on his blood-crusted face was the slight tremor of his lip as he spoke.

Celica shivered. His choked voice made her blood run so cold, her tongue felt frozen in place. She tried her best to get away from the horrid sound, but in the process of trying to push herself up, Falchion clattered against the floor with a piercing ring.

“That sword!” He gasped. Quickly Celica picked it back up, a new possessiveness overwhelming her, but he seemed content to simply follow the light that bounced off the blade. “...that’s why he forsook us. You used our own tools to conquer us.”

“My intention has never been to conquer Rigel.” Celica spat.

“Look around you. Duma’s Faithful have been on death row for the longest time. This is just the noose finally tightening around our neck. Now your goddess can reign completely.”

Again Celica remembered the sensation of Mila’s claws on her chin. She wondered if she looked closely, how many other corpses she might find. She wondered if their bodies would carry the same wounds as her.

“Perhaps this is Duma’s last lesson...” Jedah mused. “In my arrogance, I thought I had tamed you thoroughly enough. Let that boy influence me too much. Now you shall be our undoing.”

Celica’s skin crawled. As much as her hatred for him hadn’t diminished in the slightest, she did not want to watch him die. Even as she tried to look away, she couldn’t stop from noticing all the blood stains that lined the walls. Just how many other corpses were hiding among this room? How much blood would stain her hands before Mila’s rampage ended?

“I didn’t want this.” Celica whispered--as if any of that mattered at this point.

When what remained of Jedah’s life began to fade away--she found herself closing her eyes and raising her face towards heaven. If it was a prayer, then she only prayed her drumming heartbeat would drown out his dying gasps.

When she heard a group of soldier shout for her arrest, she didn’t resist.

~

News of Anthiese didn’t get to him until late that night. After Berkut found him, he passed Alm off to Massena for a more formal coronation. Even if Rigel Castle hadn’t been in such a dismal state, succession had become a fraught topic since Father ascended to the throne. Up until now, every heir had been required to be blessed by the Duma Faithful before they could rule. In theory such a thing shouldn’t be necessary now that the Emperor also doubled as head of the Church, but wars had been fought over more insignificant details in the past. As a result, Alm spent most of his day signing documents and sending letters, certain Jedah would interrupt him at any moment. When sunset came and there was still no attempt of a coup, Massena finally bestowed Alm his crown and declared him emperor.

The only witnesses were General Zeke and his wife.

Alm was escorted back to his old chambers afterwards. In theory, they’d have a more public ceremony tomorrow, so it be better if he looked like he had at least gotten an hour or two of sleep. Still even his study had not escaped the day untouched. A pile of notes the height of his forearm laid on top his desk, all addressed to Emperor Albein Alm Rudolf II.

Despite the hour, he still felt the vast emptiness from the morning, somehow too exhausted for sleep. So he tried to do what he thought a chosen hero should do. He lit a candle and went to work.

Anthiese’ report was nestled in between a record of civilian deaths and an estimate charge for castle repairs. He’d be lying if he acted as if he hadn’t be thinking of her all day, but he forced himself to read the paper at the same detached pace as every other piece.

It claimed that the lost princess had been found in Duma Temple, next to Father Jedah’s wasting body. Considering the number of Duma Faithful found dead, she was currently being imprisoned on charges for mass murder. However most of the corpses had been found under rubble and other debris; the report argued it was unlikely she had been the only one responsible. The only piece of evidence she could have been involved was the sword she had been found with.

Alm read the last sentence over. Then he read it again and again, until the words started to blur before his eyes. He pushed the document away and took a deep breath. He tried to hope against hope.

He pulled out the charges for repairs. He read the first line of figures. Then he crumpled it into a ball and headed for the dungeons.

On his journey downwards, Alm couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time he made this trip. If he had reported first to Father as expected, would he still be here today? As illogical as it sounded, he couldn’t stop from trying to pinpoint everything went wrong, when Father’s demise had been locked in place.

“Promise me you won’t let her lead you astray.”

That had been some of his last words. And yet despite everything, when Alm thought of Anthiese, he still imagined her flushed face and the sensation of her lips against his eyelids. He didn’t want to open his eyes, see what she must really think of him when not performing for his pleasure.

This time there was no forcing his way in. The minute the guard saw him, she immediately stepped aside and gave a deep bow. “Is this going to be a private interrogation?” She asked while handing him the keys. And maybe this was another mistake, another point of no return he was damning himself to, but he wanted the two of them to be honest for once, about Mila and everything in between.

“Yes,” He answered. And by the time the door slammed shut, she had all but disappeared down the hall.

A long time ago, Father had told him that the worst thing an Emperor could do, was appear anxious. Any physical tics or irregular breathing could turn into a terrible tell for enemies to exploit. Therefore, Alm took his time facing Anthiese, slowly inhaling and exhaling until the rise in his chest was barely noticeable.

When he finally looked up he found her curled up on the floor wearing a torn set of his shirt and trousers. Shackles chained her to the wall, only allowing a short range of movement, yet even that amount of freedom made him uneasy. He struggled to predict what might occur if she got her hands on him.

“Wake up,” Alm ordered.

He struggled to trust what might occur if he got his hands on her.

The only sign of life she showed was the singular cold eye that peeked out behind her curtain of hair. She looked less like the alluring temptress from the night before and more like a stray hound.

“Most of the time, the high judge is the one to lay out the case, but just this once, I’m going to give you the chance to explain yourself.” He tried to speak with Father’s commanding presence.

Anthiese tilted her head to the side. For a moment she just stared. Then a sickening giggle began to scratch its way out of her throat.

“How nice. Do I get to choose the method of execution as well?”

Alm’s eyes narrowed. “I’d stop the jokes if I were you. The high judge lost his wife this morning. He’s not likely to have much sympathy for you.”

Anthiese stopped giggling. “Do you have sympathy for me?”

His brand ached at her words, as if it was just now being etched into his skin. He wondered if perhaps it was something like an infected wound, slowly spreading to the rest of him.

“Don’t mock my mercy,” He took a step forward, ignoring the pain. “Do you even realize what you’ve done? What wielding that blade means?”

“I’m not an idiot.” She blew a strand of hair out of her face. “I know you already know about the temple and how much blood they say is on my hands. What’s the use in asking for my story?”

“A man is supposed to think the best of his wife.” His words caught on something sharp inside of himself. “An orphaned king must be the loneliest creature in the world. If possible, I don’t want to lose you too.”

“That’s your problem,” Anthiese snapped. “You’ve forgotten Jedah’s warnings. How could a Zofian woman be anything but duplicitous and selfish? It doesn’t matter if you pamper her with flowers, you can’t change nature.” She leaned forward and bared her teeth. “You should have locked me up our wedding night.”

Alm could feel his blood hum through his body. It felt like an entire colony wasps was needling at his skin, wanting to burst clean from his body and swarm. Images of a manor in the woods he did not want to think about flooded his mind.

“Tell me you didn’t know you were doing.” He begged. For a moment he believed that was all they needed to return to the magic of their night together.

Anthiese pushed herself up so that they were eye level. “I rather watch the continent burn than become anything resembling my mother.”

He wished he could say he was blinded with rage. He wished his body had acted as a separate creature from him. but if anything, he felt more like himself than he had all day when he slammed his fist into her cheek.

Anthiese hit the floor hard, her chin catching on a loose stone. A slow stream of blood started to dribble down her neck as Alm gasped for breath. Carefully, she picked herself up, cradling her cheek.

“Thank you, Emperor Albein--” Her voice was cold and distant. “--for finally showing me your gentle, tender care.” The giggle returned louder than ever.

But despite all her best efforts, she could stop the tears that were streaming down her face.

A.N. Well, man was last chapter a bad cliffhanger to end on.  I'm real sorry for the whole two year hiatus, definitely had a lot of personal projects to focus on.  Good news though, this is now the WIP at the top of my "to finish" list.  At the very least, I finally feel as confident as I'll ever be with this chapter, while there are still plenty of questions to answer, I thought it important to really get this personal reactions from the two of them, I wanted to show how grief and trauma can really consume ppl in the worst ways, how it can be defined by painful absences as much as vivid hauntings.

#celicalm #fe echoes #celica #alm #fire emblem echoes #my lame writing #otp: I'll send a storm to capture your heart and bring you home #ships and deserts and swamps oh my #arranged marriage au #definitely mind the trigger warnings on this on guys

[codevassie]

Superpower TS Fic Recs

[***Let me know if I’ve missed anything on the Content Warnings!]

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What You Can Stand by manyfandomsonelog

Status: Incomplete, Work In Progress

Summary:  Virgil tried so, so hard to avoid becoming a supervillain. He really did. But when your superpower is literally manifesting a person's worst fears, it's a hard thing to avoid. Still, he really, really tried. Even when his own parents feared him. Even when the whole school feared him. Even when he hated himself and his Propensity so much that he wanted to give in. He might've succeeded, if he hadn't met him- Roman Reyes, AKA Roman Spectacular, AKA The Prince, AKA the worst thing that has ever happened to him (which is saying something).

Relationships: Prinxiety, Logicality 

CW: Psychological stuff, nightmares, bullying, physical harm, spiders, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, brief discussion of racism, self-hatred,  bomb, explosion, blood, injury, bad/abusive parenting, imprisonment, fire,  homophobia, pedophilia mention, discussion of child abuse, evidence of physical abuse, sexual innuendo, anxious thoughts, death, funeral, flashback, reference to sex, fairly aggressive arguing and yelling, public speaking, secondhand embarrassment

My thoughts: My quarantine savior!!! I started the fic like a week into quarantine, so I really mean that literally. The characterization is absolutely fantastic--I love seeing all of them interact. It’s so natural and fun and interesting. The plot is also just wonderful--one thing keeps happening after another and these guys just cannot seem to get a break. The pacing is awesome, and whether it’s a character or plot chapter, you just can’t look away. Log is such a fantastic writer and a wonderful person, so if you like awesome prinxiety, superpowers and secret identities, trust and betrayal, humor and angst, you really need to read this one! 

Rewind by ravenclawicecream 

Status: Incomplete, Work In Progress

Summary: When a group of superheroes show up to kill him, it's just another Wednesday for Virgil Messana. After five years of being on the run, he's used to the idea people want him dead. That fact is just an unfortunate side effect of having the power to destroy everything you touch. What does surprise him, however, is when he finds himself agreeing to join those superheros and become part of the team. It's not long until Virgil learns that all the heroes have chapters of their lives they'd rather keep unpublished, along with events they'd rather not relive. And, as he spends more time with the team, he realizes that he may know certain members much better than he'd originally thought. Virgil longs for a moment to figure everything out but by then it's too late. He's already caught up in a bigger scheme; one where they no longer have the power to control their own destinies. With every movement monitored and every action proven to be calculated, the lines between allies and enemies blur, leaving Virgil caught in between. When the stakes are inevitably raised, the remaining heroes must do all they can to change the future of the world. But time has always been a cruel master, and sometimes the only answer is to rewind.

Relationships: Loceit, Logicality, Prinxiety, Remile

CW: Major Character Death, Murder

My thoughts: Gosh, I wish this one got more love. It’s probably the MCD tag, so understandable, but also take into consideration the time travel tag and perhaps give it a chance? I feel like this fic is setting up for so much, and I cannot wait to see how it all goes down. I have so many questions for this fic which is always a good sign (so many that I may have freaked the author out with my WALL of questions on chapter three don’t worry about it /j). Please. Read. This. 

Powerless by patentpending 

Status: Complete

Summary: “People like us,” Logan had once remarked to Virgil. “Are statistical anomalies.”(Almost) Everyone in the world has powers. As for those who don’t, well, they’re such a small part of the population - only 0.04% - why would anyone care about them?Ever since he realized what people mean when they call him Powerless, Virgil Sanders has tried to fight back against the system that oppresses people like him, Patton, and Logan. When Patton’s bakery is targeted in a hate crime, he finally snaps. With the help of a mysterious sponsor, Virgil becomes a villain, ready to remake a broken society. The only thing standing in his way is the world’s most Powerful (and infuriatingly charming) superhero: The Prince, who is hiding the fact that his gilded life isn’t as perfect as it may seem.

Relationships: Prinxiety, Logicality, Roman/Female Fanon Character 

CW: Classism, Unreliable Narrator, Thinly Veiled Criticism of Society,  emetophobia, violence, gun mention,  implied suicide attempt, dub-con, mentions of blood, graphic depictions of a riot, non-graphic description of a wound, possessive and abusive behavior, kid being kicked out of the house by parent, kidnapping, kinda torture (?), body horror, gore, graphic descriptions of injuries, emotional abuse, police brutality, pain and injury, burning building, swearing, vomiting, murder, panic attack, dysphoria, misgendering, minor character death, major character death, self deprecating talk, mentions of suicide

My thoughts: Well, doing a TS superhero rec without Powerless is just treason. I don’t know--I’m trying to figure out a way to describe it and instead launching up to pace around the room with an instant replay of different scenes in my head. I mean, the grocery store chapter?!?! This stuff lives in my head rent free. The characterization, the banter, the tension, the motives--I can’t describe it y’all. Just, if you love yourselves (love yourselves, please <3) then just go read it. Or reread it. Do that for yourselves. 

Waterspout by Greenninjagal

Status: Complete

Summary: "Hail!” The boy says all smug smiles that Virgil immediately hates. “You’re Recluse aren’t you?”As if there was some other spider themed weirdo who clung to buildings in their free time.“No,” Virgil says, because he can. *** Virgil finds himself stuck on the side of a building in a rainstorm and is helped by an annoying-admittedly attractive-guy.

Relationships: Prinxiety

CW: Mild cursing, storms

My thoughts: This one is very cute. Virgil is a spiderman-like hero who went up a waterspout, and down comes some rain trying to wash him out. Roman comes to help, they banter a bit, and, maybe, there’s a little surprise at the end. I would not mind more of this AU. In fact, I would love it. But that should not discount how wonderfully made a oneshot it is either. The author wrote it perfectly for the length it is, presenting the charm of the characters, great plot and symbolism, and left me wanting more at the same time. Definitely go check this one out. 

Technically. It’s A Secret by supervillain 

Status: Incomplete, Work In Progress

Summary: Virgil Storm, the adopted son of a reality TV star with telekinesis was born without a power. That's been a problem for him all his life. His only friend is Patton Vega, his only chance at romance the irritating Cros Corson--until he gets a job at a top-secret facility, playing babysitter to a bunch of kids with dangerous powers and even more dangerous minds. Kids who happen to be exactly his age.Yeah, this is going to be a piece of cake, especially when the enigmatic villain Believe (aka Roman Torres) takes a liking to Virgil. And even worse, when Virgil starts to more than like him back. Pull in some evil mad scientists, a plague created to decimate the world, a murderous villain, an obnoxious stalker, and the greatest Kinetic the world has ever known, and you're in for a hell of a ride.

Relationships: Prinxiety, Logicality 

CW:  Anxiety attacks, arson, murder, minor character death, blood, spiders, being eaten alive, falling, death, sleeping, fighting, cop mention 

My thoughts: I’m behind on this one, and I wanted to catch up on it before I posted this rec list. Today is the last Friday of the year though, so I decided to just go ahead and do it. I love this fic a ton so far, and I can’t wait to read more. I can tell the author put a lot of thought into writing the world and characters, and that the plot is interesting and deliberate. There’s mysteries unfolding which intrigues me So Bad. It’s a super interesting one, so I’d say go read it!

#fic recs #sanders sides #ts #friday fic recs #prinxiety #NOTE: the two that have a wall of CWs are mostly just warnings from the beginnings of chapters #which means they can be skipped over fairly easily #so today is the last friday of the year (holy snit) so i wanted to get this out #i've been trying to make this list since like may but i don't read a whole lot of superpower aus #hope everyone is having a great one!

[mattzerella-sticks]

Desperation, Baby! (coda to 15x19 “Inherit the Earth”, Dean & Lucifer, Dean/Cas, 2.3k, T)

ao3 link

Death took her sweet time parsing through Chuck's book, meaning Lucifer spent longer than he'd like surrounded by his former vessel, his brother, his son, and a man whose obvious longing made him want to vomit. Instead of returning with his prize, Chuck welcoming him back, he must waste his valuable time playing 'nice; with those he can't stand.

Not that it matters. They don't trust him, each member of this ragtag group of survivors watching Lucifer in shifts. Never leaving him alone.

It's Dean's turn now, and he's driving Lucifer up a wall by doing nothing at all save for broadcasting a never-ending supply of feeling. Can he cut the signal without showing his hand, or put Dean's heart to good use?

           It’s pathetic, truly. Lucifer huffs, deflating, sinking further into his seat. Weighed down by obscene amounts of longing that poured freely off Dean like a broken hydrant. Funneled into his awareness because its usual drain was cordoned forever. It flooded these now silent angelic air waves, Lucifer growing more annoyed with each, excruciating second. Until, finally, “Holy hell, can you please quit it?”

           Dean startles from where he stood, jaw tensing. Mouth flattening in a thin line as he glares, “What?”

           “Quit. It. Quitit!” He hisses, leaning forward. Stretches his arms across the table, reaching for Dean. Fingers twitching, Lucifer imagines Dean’s neck between them. “Seriously, you’re giving me a migraine with all your feelings.”

           “Good.” Dean surprises Lucifer with his response. No attempted denial, nor misdirection. His gaze unflinchingly pierced through Lucifer’s vessel, pride bolstering its blow. Lucifer cannot detect any shame that usually clings to his soul, none of that smell lingering. He’s grown since they’ve last seen each other. Stunning character development. “Deserve it, after that dick move you pulled earlier.”

           “You still upset about that?” Scoffing, Lucifer rises. Meanders across the room towards Dean, gaze never straying. Easy since it’s only them. “I thought my gift would have more than made up for that.” He grins, rocking on his heels. A breadth of space separates them now. “How else was I supposed to get in, anyway?” he continues, “Not like if I called as myself you’d’ve rolled out the welcome mat.”

           “But… Cas?” Lucifer savors the taste of his brother’s name, drenched in sadness. Ripped from Dean’s heart in a barely controlled sob.

           “Nasty habit,” he giggles, “Though the results speak for themselves. I mean – you know how easy it was smooth-talking little Sammy when I looked like his ol’ flame, Jess?” Dean doesn’t laugh, snarled lip suffocating Lucifer’s airy mirth. “You’re no fun.”

           “Sorry,” Dean growls, “why don’t you try later when the world’s not ending.”

           “It’s always ending. In one way or another.” Lucifer waves his hand and a chair drags itself over. He straddles it, gazing up at Dean. “If we waited for peace to enjoy life, there’d be no time. Better to… say what’s in your heart, even if it kills you.” He frowns, mockingly, “Or in Castiel’s case… did kill him.”

           Dean slams his fist against the wall. “You have no right –“

           “Timeout there,” Lucifer smirks, eyes glowing red. Reflection of Dean’s entire face, blood rapidly swelling his cheeks. “Don’t want to do anything you’ll regret…” He holds Dean there, frozen, waits until the other man seems calm. Dips his head, tries catching Dean’s gaze. “If I let you go, will you behave?” Dean remains silent, yet Lucifer hears him. Tunes into his frequency, actively sifting through his frenzied emotions. “Seriously,” he lets Dean go, hunter falling on his ass, “how are we supposed to work as a team if you’re not willing to cooperate?”

           “This… isn’t a team,” Dean spits, “you’re working… with the Empty.”

           “And the Empty’s trying to take Chuck out!” he argues, “So, enemy of my enemy is my friend or all that nonsense –“

           “Go to hell.”

           “I wish I could, but I’m kinda on a short leash.” Bored with Dean’s resistance, Lucifer threads his next few words with seriousness. “Listen, once Betty’s done with the book I’ll flit on out of here and one, two, three – humanity is saved from dear, ol’ dad! We can make this all painless if you’d just trust me, or we can keep doing what we’re doing. I, personally, am tired of this bullshit. Rather be napping back in the Empty, but no…”

           “You should be.”

           “Beg pardon?”

           Dean bares his teeth, roiling hatred knocking Lucifer back a few inches. “You should still be sleeping, back there,” he says, “if anyone were supposed to come back, it’d be Cas. Not… you…”

           “Ah, Castiel, yes…” Lucifer sighs, “that would make sense, wouldn’t it? Of course, he lacks my raw power and charm, but… yes, you’d trust anything that he said.” Hand on his throat, he affects his vocal cords. Mimicking the other angel’s gravelly tone again, “Dean, please go along with Lucifer’s wishes and help him –“

           “Enough!” Dean kicks at a chair leg, interrupting Lucifer. Tears threaten to pour, dangling from his lashes like morning dew. “If you really wanna play nice, you’d stop doing that.”

           “This is nice, buddy.” Lucifer pokes at Dean’s leg with the toe of his boot. “Why don’t you grow some thick skin, huh? Where’s the real Dean Winchester? That tough guy with endless bravado instead of this sad, sorry piece of shit that’s pining after some dead guy?”

           Dean turns, Adam’s apple bobbing. “That isn’t me. I… he never was.” An intimate confession whispered into ancient brickwork. Meaningful for a different crowd. Except Lucifer shows little care, sarcastic clapping shattering Dean’s moment.

           “Wow, Dean… really fantastic. Amazing!” He climbs off the chair, crouching closer. Tongue dragged over his lips, smile wide. “Your verbose diction astounds me… did you whip that together after my brother got dragged into super hell? Are you still workshopping it – okay if I give you a few notes?” Lucifer pinches Dean’s cheek, poking this rabid grizzly. “At least you’ve got that face. Clearly Cas didn’t fall for your emotional maturity, your observational prowess or timing…”

           He weakly bats Lucifer off him, “You don’t know anything…”

           “I think I know quite a lot,” Lucifer challenges him, “Between the both of us, only I managed to slip inside my tight-ass little brother. Probably why I knew all his little… perversions, although it was clear as day how he felt about you to everyone – well… almost everyone.” His hand settles on Dean’s chest, atop his heart. “Do you know amazing it was, when I slipped my blade through him? You were a buffet that night… fear, relief, hope… despair. I could’ve ended him in that other dimension, but I waited until he crossed back. Knew how much more painful it’d be.”

           “Monster,” Dean says, “Fucking psychopath.”

           “The old me, maybe.” Lucifer teleports, sitting on a nearby table. Legs absentmindedly pedaling, stirring confusion within Dean. “But I’ve been reborn on the right side, Dean. Nobler. I’ve got purpose.”

           “You’ve got a load of shit,” he accuses, standing on shaky legs, “that you’re trying to sell me. Us.”

           “Come on!” Lucifer groans, hands flying skyward, “Isn’t this supposed to be your eleventh hour? How can you be so stubborn? Here I come, with a Hail Mary, and you’re turning your nose up at me like some snob. Like you have better options waiting. All because you won’t work with the Empty –“

           “It’s not just that,” Dean corrects him, “I also don’t want to work with you.”

           He crosses his arms, pouting. “You’re gonna have to suck that up. So the Empty wouldn’t send your boytoy, do you blame them? For a broken, little thing he sure is popular. Who’s to say Cas’d come back once this all wraps up? At least the Empty trusts me.”

           “I guess something has to.”

           “You can, too, if you want.” Lucifer casts his reel wide, waiting. Eyebrows waggling like baited worms. “It’d be a hell lot easier than what you’re doing now. Come on…” he needles, “why is it so hard to believe in miracles?”

           “Please…” Dean says, hiding his face behind his knees. Arms circled around his legs, curled into a ball. “Stop talking.”

           He relents for the time being. Proud of what cracks in Dean’s armor he made. When Chuck sent him, he asked Lucifer to ruffle a few feathers. Mess with their heads, ensure this ragtag group of losers would stay down. Accept their fate, end this miserable experiment called humanity in sadness. “Don’t provoke them too much, though,” Chuck warned, fists curled along his jacket’s lapels, “Betrayals only work when the other side doesn’t expect them. Plot’s stretched thin as it is, bringing you back doesn’t really make sense –“

           “I love you too, dad.”

           “That’s why you need to lay it on thick,” he said, “steer them away from why, keep the action moving.”

           Lucifer stared down at his father, frowning. “Anything else you need?”

           “No,” Chuck clapped Lucifer’s shoulder, nodding. “Just be yourself.”

           Except none of them wanted him. Especially Dean. He wanted… Castiel.

           It’s a little off-script, but Lucifer bets Chuck will enjoy what he plans. Even if it’ll involve his least favorite character. Lucifer hops off the table, grace burning across his body. Razing this vessel’s form, stealing its characteristics and distinguishability. A tall mound of clay left that he molds into a new body. Darker hair, sturdier frame, and bluer eyes. “Dean,” he says, swallowing his laughter. “Dean…” He tries again, sounding exactly like him.

           Like Castiel.

           Dean tenses, “Cas?” Barely audible, Lucifer strained to hear his prayer. That hope, sweetness quickly bittering as Dean digests the scene. “No…” he sighs, mumbling into his legs. “Lucifer, thought I told you to quit it.”

           “Lucifer is gone, Dean,” he lies, kneeling. “I’m here… please, Dean, look at me.” Lucifer grabs at Dean’s head, thankful the other man lets him. Green finds masked-blue, their ‘reunion’ drawing a pained breath.

           “What?” Dean asks, a single tear slipping free. Trails along his cheek until it falls off his chin. “How – how is this happening?”

           “Because of you, Dean.” Lucifer’s hands shift, a thumb smearing that tearstain while he runs fingers through Dean’s hair. “You refused Lucifer’s help, even though what he said was true. The Empty saw and decided, if we were to truly end Chuck, the risk of sending me will be worth it.” Expression darkening, Lucifer leans into dramatics. Lips quivering as he recites his next line, “Though not without conditions, Dean – I… you know I can’t stay, right?”

           “You will,” he says, “Cas – we will… if this book really can end Chuck, and we take him out, what can the Empty do –“

           “Take you,” Lucifer cuts him off. “Take you… Sam, and Jack. I step even an inch out of line and we all get sucked into their being, with no hope of actually defeating my father.” He nearly breaks character, watching how the light in Dean’s eyes flickered before being snuffed. Lucifer regains composure, growling his next words. “You understand this, then? What it means?”

           Dean nods, snaking his hands across Lucifer’s wrists. “Means we don’t have long,” he barks, squeezing tight. “I have to set it right, right now.”

           “Dean –“

           “No, Cas,” Dean talks over him, guiding Lucifer’s hands off where they rested. Silences the disguised archangel by chaining him, making Lucifer a helpless victim. Awe real as he waits for Dean, cowed by longing powerful than his earlier annoyance. “I… I need to get through this because – well, the last time you didn’t let me get a word in edgewise and I, there was a lot left unsaid that I don’t want to stay that way. If we can’t have a future, then at least… at least we have here.” He laughs, choking on it. More tears dance their way down.

           “When you told me you loved me, I couldn’t believe it,” Dean confesses, “and then, when you told me why I – I was… I believed that less. I mean, you… you’ve listened to your heart more than I have. Even if a few of those times it was wrong, everything you did was for love. Knowing you was – that was my happiness. Having you, in whatever way you’d let me. Because there you were, this shining beacon, and for some reason you kept on letting me bask in your glow. I felt I… I didn’t deserve it. That I didn’t deserve you.”

           Dean brings Lucifer’s knuckles to his lips, pressing a light kiss along a patch of skin. The gesture disgusts him. “And you were right about how – I thought of myself so… so poorly, it kept me from saying and – and doing things I wish I’d done sooner. All my life I thought there were things I couldn’t have, rules I had to live by, and I never questioned them until you saved me from hell. Literal and figurative. Because of you, I wanted to be a better person. I wanted to be good. But I never believed I could. Then you tell me you loved me… because I was good. I already was the kind of person I thought seemed impossible. I couldn’t believe it. What’s stranger… I didn’t have to believe it, to know it’s true.” Dean smiles at him, Lucifer mirroring his gesture though it pained him. “I’m the person I always wished I could be, and even when you’re gone I’ll still be that person. I’ll miss you, Cas. Always. I’ll miss you, and I’ll love you. I’ll love you always.”

           It happens before Lucifer realizes. Distracted, nauseated by Dean’s powerful emotions, he missed how a hand snuck its way towards his neck. Pinched there, startling him. In that second, Dean forces Lucifer into an embrace. Lips crashing together, Lucifer stays frozen while Dean attacks his mouth. Mewling, whimpering.

           Disgusting.

           He pulls the curtains back, reverting to his previous form. Delights in how Dean senses the change, peeking with one eye as Castiel’s face vanishes. The other man violently hurls himself to the side, gaping at him. “Why Dean,” Lucifer grins, awkwardness heavy in his tone, “if I had known that’s how you felt about me…”

           Dean sobs, wiping at his lips. “How… what the –“

           “You really thought I was Cas, didn’t you?” Laughing, Lucifer towers over him. “I figured you’d catch on but… I underestimated you. And for that I’m sorry.” He devours these new emotions radiating from Dean, eagerly lapping them up. “I’m also sorry that you’ve convinced you deserve a happy ending,” he twists the knife further. Dean flinches, turning. Fleeing. Lucifer shouts at his retreating figure. “That’s not your story, Dean! Don’t ask for more, be happy with what you have!”

           Then, as he waits for his next babysitter, Lucifer’s eyes glow red. “Because soon enough… you won’t even have that.”

#supernatural #spn #spn15 #15x19 #15x19 coda #15x19 inherit the earth #dean winchester #lucifer #castiel #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #supernatural fanfic #deancas fanfic #spn fanfic

[issabangtanfic]

[Jungkook] The Windmill House (Chapter 7)

Masterlist

Synopsis: When for once rich doesn’t rhyme with Christian Grey.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

A/N: Feel free to submit a cover! Tell me what you think in my inbox! Enjoy!

-

Mr. Jeon’s lips curl up into a smirk.

“Oh, hi.” He says, sounding pleased. Of course he is pleased to see me. His smile makes my blood boil.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss, recoiling when the strong scent of alcohol emanating from him reaches my nose. He tilts his head to the side, on eyebrow raised.

“Wham’I supposed to be doin’ in a bathroom?” He retorts. Oh, I don’t want to be dealing with this.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” I mutter to myself, turning on my heels, ready to go pick up Ben and Sidney and leave.

“Wait.” I hear him before feeling his hand around my arm. Oh what now?!

He turns me around, and I glare at him.

“Hey, man.”

I spin my head and see the security guy I just walked past standing behind me. Mr. Jeon lets me go immediately.

“Everything alright?” The man asks him. Mr. Jeon stares at him with a deep frown, mouth hanging open.

“Are you talking to me?” Mr. Jeon asks. Can I leave?

“Alright, buddy.” The guy cajoles, grabbing Mr. Jeon by the lapels of his jacket. " Leave the lady alone.”

Taking the opportunity as soon as it comes, I escape the scene, leaving him with his problems. I can’t bother with him tonight. I nearly run back to our table.

“That was quick.” Sidney says between two selfies. I mutter to myself, deciding I should keep the encounter to myself. Knowing her, she’s probably going to get up to find Mr. Jeon and kick his ass.

It’s fine, he is literally being thrown out of the club at this very time. As the thought crosses my mind, I look out the window that gives onto the street. Mr. Jeon is there, staggering across the road. How drunk s this man. He almost trips on the side walk but eventually makes it up, aiming for the bench of the bus stop. I watch as he lays down on it, on his back, one leg up on the wooden surface, and just stays there.

I frown as I witness his strange behavior, and soon realize he’s falling asleep. Out there? Under a bus stop? Is he that drunk? Where is his assistant? How does he plan on getting home?

He’ll never make it to his place, wherever that is. He’s going to get robbed. As much as I despise him, this is really dangerous.

“Excuse me guys, I’ve got to use the loo.” The words are out before I can convince myself to do otherwise. I don’t know why I feel the need to lie them. That’s actually false, I’m lying because I know Sidney wouldn’t want me to be doing this. I rise from my seat.

“Again?” Ben says.

“Girl stuff.” I mutter, waving a dismissive hand. This excuse always works.

Discretely, I make my way out of the club and across the street where Mr. Jeon’s lifeless form is sleeping.

“Hey.” I call, shaking him awake. He convinces one eye open.

“You can’t sleep here. Go home.” I tell him.

“Hey.” He slurs, grinning at me. Why is he so happy to see me?

“What is your address?” I try. Mr. Jeon groans, painfully pulling himself into sitting position. He scratches the back of his head.

“It’s.. a tall building?” He replies. I grab my own forehead. I can still walk away.

“Why did you get so drunk all alone? What happened to you?” I tell him.

“You happened, Maya.” He says, pointing an accusing finger at me. My eyebrows meet my hairline.

“I happened?”

“Your boss called me today.” He says to me.

“I know.”

“He was mad. He was…crazy mad.” He explains. Well, no shit! “And then...another woman joined in and… they all started yelling.”

That has to be Ava. She always has been so protective of everyone. And she’s loud. I bite back a smile at the thought of her yelling at a man like Jeon Jungkook.

“And I felt so wronged.” He adds. Wronged? Him?

"I felt like you did everything to make me look like the bad guy.” He mutters. What a joke!

“Yeah, right. You are the one- “

“Wait, wait, wait. Miss Fair, Maya, please.” He cuts me off, jolting up and holding his hands up. I cross my arms under my chest, but let him go on.

“They were threatening get the police involved, telling me I was a monster and a predator.” He says. And they were right! I still could report him to the police.

“So I said: what the fuck did she tell you?” He mimics himself.

“And they told me everything that you said to them.  And turns out you just told 'em the truth.” His voice gets quieter by the end of his sentence. I watch, speechless, and his head bows down. He quietly sits back down on the bench, elbows propped on his knees.

“I harassed you.” His voice is almost a whisper. At least he recognizes it.

“So I get drunk to make things a little bit easier for myself.” He speaks again after a beat. He looks up at me, eyes filled with regret.

“I’m sorry, Maya.” He says to me. I hate that he sounds so genuine. I almost want to believe it.

“And I know I can’t make it up to you now.” He adds, looking back down.

“I mean… I could, if you let me take you on a date but…” He trails off, his words hanging in the air. A date? With him?!  Let me laugh.

“Oh!” He exclaims, shooting his wide yes up and me and bouncing off the bench. I almost jump at his sudden surge of energy.

“Would you let me take you on a date?” He asks me. I break into cold sweat. What is happening?

“A date?” I repeat. He nods vigorously.

“Promise I won’t bring up my dick anymore. Everrrr.” He slurs. I tilt my head to the side. I doubt he’s capable of that.

“What kind of date would you take me on?” I ask, just out of curiosity.

“I feel like…” He taps his chin with one finger. “I feel like you’re a museum girl.” He declares.

“A museum girl.” I repeat, testing the term.

“Am I wrong or am I wrong?”

“You’re right.” I tell him. It’s a good guess but pretty generic. It still manages to make his entire face light up like Christmas.

“See?! I may be an asshole, but I’m smart.” He says proudly. I bite back a laugh. This is quite amusing.

“I won’t bring you to the Design Museum like any lame dude would do.” He tells me, almost like a promise.

“Oh no?” I chuckle, raising an intrigued eyebrow at him.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I know a place.”

“Which one?”

“S’a secret.” He shrugs, making an aggravated grimace. “You’ll know if you go with me.”

“I see.” I chuckle. He’s quite funny like this.

“Will you go on a date with me?” He asks me again. I feel like a no would ruin his playful mood.

“Are you even going to remember my answer?” I challenge.

“No, I’ll remember. I’ll write it down.” He retorts, pulling his phone out. I have to fight back another fit of giggles as he navigates trough his phone.


“Asked… Maya… out on a… date…” He says to himself as he writes a memo. “And she said?” He looks up at me, eyes hopeful. I know he is only this nice because of the alcohol, but I can’t bring myself to shut him down. I would be the person who tells a kid Santa doesn’t exist.

I’m 90% sure he won’t remember this anyways.

“She said yes.”
 I murmur, watching as he beams at me with a face-splitting grin.

“She said yes.” He repeats, his thumbs working fast on his screen. “Awesome.” He pipes up, putting his phone away. I shake my head at him.

“I gotta…” He almost gargles, taking a step back. He has enough time to turn away from me before he vomits spectacularly.

“Oh, bloody hell.” I gasp, looking away although he’s showing me his back. I almost gag at the splashing sound his vomit makes as it hits the ground.

Mr. Jeon throws up once more, and I hear him cough. Still not looking, I fish two tissues from my bag and poke him with them. 

“Thank you.”
 He says, voice tight, before cleaning his mouth. He sighs deeply, sitting down and throwing his head back.

“What a way to impress a lady, huh?” He says, more to himself than to me. I’m anything but impressed.

“This is the best I’ve felt since your boss called.”
 He tells me, eyes closing. What is he doing.

“Should I call you a cab?” I ask him. He hums, but that’s it. His eyes are shut. He falls asleep just like that?!

“Mr. Jeon?”
 I try to shake him. He groans. This man is not going to help me. He doesn’t remember his own address. He leaves me no choice. Looking around, I hail the first cab I see. 

“Mr.Jeon.” I call, shaking him quite vigorously. He opens his eyes and frowns at me.

“Up. We’re going to get you a bed.” I promise, speaking loudly to keep him awake, and open the door of the car.

“Let’s go.” I encourage him, and I thank the heavens for giving him the strength of walking while he lans onto me.


“He better not ruin my backseat.” The driver throws at me, but keeps his eyes full of anguish glued on my companion, watching him with worry.

“He’ll probably pay you a brand new car if it happened.” I mutter, dropping his limp body on the seat. The driver raises an eyebrow at me.

“Now I want him to ruin my backseat.” He retorts. I close the door on Mr. Jeon’s side and walk around the car to sit next to him.

“Where to?” I ask Mr. Jeon, shaking him to wake him up.

“What is your address?” I enquire.

Heaving, I sit him upright so I can fasten his seatbelt. He doesn’t reply.

“Mr. Jeon.” I call again when his belt is fastened, but he as descended in sweet slumber.

“You’re not helping me.” I mutter to myself, securing my belt. I guess he’ll have to come with me. What a joke! I did everything to get rid of this man, and he’s here, almost sleeping in my lap. Pursing my lips, I push him his slowly-falling-ontto-me body back in place and give the driver my address.

It’s crazy that I’ve gone from running away from this man to literally taking care of him. He can’t seem to be able to leave me alone. But this time should logically be the last time. There is no way I’m returning to Zaap now that I know he hangs out there, and London. is big enough of a city for us not to run into each other ever again. He probably won’t be bugging me tonight, and I can just shoo him away tomorrow morning. You can do this.

I decide to call Sidney to let her know about everything, and as expected, she immediately starts screaming at me. I really don’t blame her. I try to tell her not to worry about me and to enjoy the rest of the night with her brother, be she refuses to leave me alone with Mr. Jeon. Honestly, I can’t complain that I have such protective people around me, and one thing I know is that I can never win against her. So she gets on her way home as well, although I obviously make it back first.

I shake Mr. Jeon awake, but he’s still barely cooperating. When I open the door on his side of the car, his eyes are open but that’s about it. I get my keys ready in one hand and help him up, but the man is heavy for me and I’m pretty sure he can’t walk. He’s just there, almost comatose, moaning and mumbling inaudible things.

“Need help?” Our cab driver proposes.

“No, I’ll be fine.” I lie.

“Mr. Jeon, you better get your legs moving or I’m leaving you on the side walk.” I threaten him, shaking him again so he snaps out of it.

“Walk.” I order before trying once more. I heave and try to lift him up, and he grants me with some help, pushing himself out of the vehicle. The driver makes it his business to close the door behind him, and I take him up the stairs to my doors, skillfully opening the door with one hand.

“Maya.” He mumbles once we’re inside. He is so heavy, I’ll just drop him on the couch and let him pass out there. As we walk past the kitchen, I hear Mr.Jeon gag.

“My flowers.”
I gasp, watching is he empties his stomach in the vase I put his flowers in. What the hell?!

“Sorry.” He mumbles. Ew. At loss of words, I drop him on one of the stools behind the counter and grab him some tissues so he can wipe himself. I notice the huge stain of vomit on his sleeve and nearly barf myself.

This man is supposed to be intimidatingly charismatic, for fuck’s sake. I walk behind him and begin to take his jacket off so he doesn’t sleep with it on and stains my couch.

“Are we finally doing it?” I hear him ask me. Ha!

“Doing it? You stink of alcohol and you threw up on yourself.” I mutter, successfully removing the jacket. I roll it so the stained part doesn’t touch anything and leave it on the counter.

“I still can get it up.” He retorts, slumping over. Yeah, sure. Not picking up on his comments, I pour him a glass of water.

“Drink this.” I tell him. He lifts his head and sees the glass, but doesn’t seem interested. Losing patience, I shove the glass into his mouth and lift it so he has no choice but to drink. Once that’s done, get him up again and push him down onto the couch. He falls back, feet hanging over the edge of it, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. I sigh deeply. That was unnecessarily difficult.

“Maya.” He calls, eyes still closed. “I’m really sorry.” He murmurs.

“It’s just flowers.” I say dismissively, taking my shoes off.

“No.” He says. “For…you know, everything.”

I look up at him, confused, but he’s already gone, his chest rising and falling slowly as he sleeps. This man really is an enigma. I don’t know how to feel about him.

I’m about to head to the bathroom when I hear his phone vibrate in his pocket. Thinking it could be someone who is worried about him, I figure I should answer for him. I fish his phone out and look at the caller’s ID: it’s his assistant. I take the call for him.

“Thank god!”
The man exclaims from the other side of the line. “Where the hell have you been?”


“Hello?” I say. There is a short silence.


“Who are you?” His assistant asks, tone icy and clipped.


“Maya Fair. The interior designer? Do you remember me?”
I tell him.

“Yes. Yes, I do. Where is Mr. Jeon?” He asks again.

“He is with me. He drank a lot tonight and-”


“Have you signed an NDA?” He cuts me off.

“And NDA?” I repeat. Why would I have to sign a non-disclosure agreement?

“Did-“

The call ends abruptly, and I realize it’s because Mr.Jeon’s phone is dead. Well, at least he knows he’s with me. I’m too exhausted to charge his phone, wait for it to turn on and call him back. I plug Mr. Jeon’s phone and head to the bathroom to remove my makeup. Sidney arrives as I’m putting my pajamas on, storming in and yelling all kinds of reproaches at me. Mr. Jeon doesn’t even budge at the noise she makes, and all I do is agree with her half-sleepily. I’m crazy, What I did was dangerous, he doesn’t deserve my help, blah blah blah. I give her a hug and collapse onto my bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

-

“Should we smother him in his sleep?” Sidney proposes, towering over Mr. Jeon’s sleeping form. She puts her hands on her hips and bends over him, watching him with squinted, untrusting eyes.

“Sidney.” I admonish, stretching my arm and offering her a cup of tea. I guess her resent for the man is weaker than her love for black tea, because she leaves him alone.

“I’m just throwing ideas.” She mutters, walking over me to get her cup. She leans against the kitchen counter next to me, and we both watch the man in our livng room while sipping on our hot drinks. Mr. Jeon is sleeping in the same position I left him in, sprawled on his back, one leg bent, both of his arms folded and tucked under his head. His long eyelashes fanned against his cheeks, his chest rising and falling steadily as he breathes. He has a very subtle frown, which kind of looks adorable.

“He is hot though.” Sidney concedes although no one asked.

“You haven’t seen him throw up in the flowers.” I counter. I don’t think I would ever have imagined seeing Mr. Jeon in such a state. He’s always so serious and composed. I don’t think I ever heard him snicker like he did yesterday, out of pure amusement, not out of misplaced arrogance. It was new, and as disgusting as it was, it was a little charming I have to admit.

“I agreed on a date with him.” I declare. Sidney puts a hand behind her ear.

“Say that again?”

I roll my eyes.

“He seemed really sorry about the whole thing. I mean he drank his weight in alcohol because of it.” I explain to her. She raises an eyebrow at me.

“That’s a fucked way to prove your sincerity.” She mutters into her mug.

“It’s not like he did it on purpose knowing I would be there.” I counter.

“Yeah, but.” She pauses to take a sip of her black tea. "A date though???”

She has a point. He made me laugh, and he seems sorry, but it doesn’t mean I should be interested in him. He still wants into my pants, and while his actions can change, it won’t erase the past.

“I know, I’m not going. He probably doesn’t remember anyway.” I try to reassure her.

“The fact that you even accepted! You know very well that if you forgive this kind of man once, they know they have you.” She scolds. I glare at her and her chopsticks in her bun. How more stereotypical can you get?

“I know, Sidney. Jeez! You don’t have to bring everything back to him.” I mutter, know all too well what she was referring to. She leans back defensively.

“I’m just looking out for you. Red flags are red flags.” She mumbles.

“I am not going to fall for this man.” I say sternly. Sidney takes a quiet yet long sip of her tea.

“But you agreed on a date with him.”

“There is no date. I'm not going.” I repeat.

“Good.” She says, contented, and pinched my cheek. “Stop sulking.”

I glare at her again, but my eyes quickly get pulled back to the couch as I hear rustling in its direction. Mr. Jeon is slowly sitting upright, small, squinting eyes blinking slowly as he tried to get his bearings.

“Morning, pretty boy.” Sidney says, walking over to him. I watch, bewildered, as she crouches next to him. He gives her a confused grimace.

“Been squatting enough, haven’t you? S’time to go home.” She tells him, pointing at the door.

“Where the hell am I?” He asks, his voice raspy and laced with sleep.

“In my house.” I retort, making my way to the couch as well. He pulls his eyes to me, and his eyebrows connect in a frown.

“Maya?” He rasps, eyes getting even smaller. He looks sickeningly beautiful when he’s sleepy.

“I found you rat-arsed outside Zaap. So I brought you here. You threw up twice.” I explain to him, watching as his eyes widen at the news.

“Oh, god.” He groans, one hand covering his eyes shamefully. “I’m so sorry.”

I glance at Sidney, who is still being very hostile for someone who isn’t doing anything.

“Mr. Jeon this is Sidney, my roommate.” I introduce my sassy and overprotective roommate.

“Sidney, this is- “

“She told me about you.” She cuts me off, tongue rolling against her cheek. What kind of gangster acting is this?

“Sidney.” I scold. She scoffs, rolls her eyes and exits the living room. Mr. Jeon watches her in confusion. I quietly hand him is phone.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” I ask. He makes a low sound in his throat and leans back against the couch, reaching up and back to stretch.

I try not to notice the patch of creamy skin showing as his shirt moves up.

“Not past the fifth glass.” He exhales, slouching.

“I see.” I say to myself. He doesn’t remember he askes me on a date then, good. I won’t have to tell him no if he doesn’t know about it.

“I’m so sorry that you’ve seen me like this.” He says to me, rubbing his eyes some more. I can tell he’s still very tired.

“This is actually quite embarrassing.” He chuckles to himself. “I hadn’t planned on drinking that much.”

“Well you did. I don’t think I have ever seen someone as hammered as you. When the bouncer threw you out, you laid down on a bench and just stayed there.” I tell him. His brow furrows and he looks at me like I just grew three heads.

“They threw me out?” He asks. “Why did they throw me out?” He’s talking to himself this time.

“The bouncer could tell I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, but I own the fucking place.” He retorts, his frown deepening. “These idiots threw their boss out of the club.” He exclaims.

“You do?” I try to hide my laugh in my cup of tea but he hears me chuckling at that, which makes him smile a little.

“This is outrageous.” He says. Poor guy!

“Should I get you something for your head?” I propose. He sighs deeply.

“That would be nice.” He gives me a tired smile. Nodding, I walk to the kitchen and grab a pillbox from a cupboard, almost wincing as I reach up. I realize I’m sore from carrying this big ass man on my shoulder all the way into the house. I also prepare a glass of water.

“There you go.” I say, handing him a pill and a tall glass of water. He gulps it down in seconds, probably feeling the dehydration from all that alcohol.

“Do you feel better?” I ask him once he’s done.

“I still feel like crap. But I know I should go.” He tells me, still barely able to keep his eyes open. I would tell him he’s welcome to stay until he feels better, but truth is he isn’t. I haven’t forgotten what he’s done, and I don’t want to be too nice to him.

“I’m not going to bother you any longer.” He declares, painfully lifting himself off the couch.

“Let me get you your jacket.” I tell him before making quick trip to the bathroom, where I disposed of his stinking suit jacket.

“It’ll need a wash.” I tell him, handing him the plastic bag containing it. He takes a peak and recoils at the smell.

“Jesus.” He says. Oh, I know.

“Thank you again for bringing me home with you.” He says after I walk him to the door.

“You’re welcome.” I reply.

“Miss Fair.” He tilts an invisible hat at me.

“Mr. Jeon.” I reply. He turns on his heels and leaves, and I close the door behind him. I lean against the door, close my eyes and let out a big sigh. This should be it this time. When i blink my eyes open, Sidney is glaring at me, hands on her hips.

“You’re too nice.” She says to me.

“Stop sulking.” I tell her, poking her cheek, my words mirroring hers.

“It’s over. I literally won’t have to ever see him again.” I say reassuringly, walking past her.

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you.” I hear her mutter to herself.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenarios #jk #jk scenarios #jeon jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #bts smut #jk smut #jungkook smut #bts jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #park jimin #bts jimin #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts junkook fanfic #bts jimin fanfic #bts jimin smut #jimin smut

[unoriginalias]

A king is born

Warnings for blood and other violent things

____________________________________

His flesh wasn't healing. He had come to notice this over the several hours he had laid within the dark pit. The creatures were yet to return and as such the Raven had been using his peace and quiet to think, a luxury he had been unable to afford as of late. Why am I even alive? The boy would question, his time here had done well to teach him his limits. How had he survived his countless fatal injuries? His wing.. Starvation.. Both should have killed him in mere moments. Was it some unwritten rule that those within Purgatory must live? The boys mind would flash to the library within the palace.

"A ruler must be knowledgeable on all topics!" The young Raven would state proudly to a boy by his side. Agis. The boy had similarly structured black wings, however his were sickly and malnourished. The boy hailed from the Kingsman house, made up primarily of Fallen Angels and their kin. His wings were featherless and as such were unequipped for flight. His Raven Black hair hung just above his eyes as he looked blankly at the prince. "I can totally see your dumbass needing fairytales to get out of whatever shit you'll get yourself into" the boy would chuckle as he nudged the prince. The 8 year old Prince seemed to growl and stop completely after being nudged, turning to his follower before planting a fist in the unassuming boys gut. "Never ridicule me you filthy fucking Rat." The prince hissed as he watched Agis keel over onto his knees, choking for breath. "I could have you killed for even looking at me wrong! Know your place!" The Raven would begin to scream as he forced the boy onto his hands and knees by placing his heel on the back of Agis head.

The rest of the memory quickly became a blur as the two were ripped from eachother, Agis being torn down the hall fearfully by his father. An arrogant smirk overcoming the prince as he found himself staring down the pleading gaze of a retreating father. They would both be slaughtered in the morning and both parties were aware of it. On the other side Fael found himself being torn from the scene by his older brother, Rhias. The slightly taller Nephilim pulled the prince by the shoulder. The point of interest within this memory didn't come from the scuffle itself but the book that was clutched within the Prince's hand. A book of legends. Fael had always found stories much more interesting then reality and as such took an interest in the Olympian mythos. Purgatory was a realm outside the dominion of the sacred Reapers, this was clearly stated within the book. This small fact is what made the realm of chaos such a foreboding myth, once you enter there is no way to truly die. The forces of death cannot reach you. The Raven had been eight upon reading the book and now four years later its knowledge would enlighten him.

Cursing under his breath the Raven would feel fear set in once more, rising from its place in the pit of his stomach. What if he lay here forever? Immobilized for all eternity. Death becoming nothing more then a dream as his life continues eternally. "Someone?! Help! Please!" The boys pleads for help resounded throughout his unfamiliar surroundings. He never expected anyone to actually come to his aid. Why would they? The first living creatures he had encountered were nothing more then mindless drones, following his commands like organic robots. Yet once more the searing pain of his entire body being submerged in acid overcame him, this being the first feeling in his lower body in hours. It was strange to be reminded of one's size in such an excruciating manner. After the pain had subsided it seemed as though nothing had actually happened, leading the Raven to believe the crown was simply cursed.

Thud.

Beside Fael laid a familiar figure. A jointed jaw allowed the creatures jaw to fold open both vertically and horizontally, allowing it to eat smaller creatures whole. Its maw filled with two rows of razor sharp teeth, some chipped presumably from combat. It's skin seemed to resemble a crustacean as its body was covered in armour like plates of some organic enamel varient. It's eyes loomed from its helmet like skull. It's sense of sight, smell and hearing were greatly weakened in favour of an almost impenetrable hide. It's legs were too mangled to properly make out however it's arms were what finally reminded the Raven of where he had seen the creature. Stretching from its clawed paws was a single blade like extension, it's right arm missing this appendage. Fael would've screamed if not for the small chance the creature didn't know he was there, after all he wasn't really doing anything to alert it. The creature crawled its way towards the boy as sweat dripped from his face, frozen in fear. What would happen to him if he were eaten alive? Would he remain sentient with whatever was left untouched? Or would he finally die? He couldn't tell whether he wanted to take the chance.

It would seem he didn't have a choice as the beast gripped his shoulder and flipped him onto his stomach, the rough movement causing him to groan audibly. Now the beast was out of sight but still there, it's movements no longer monitored. A primal sense of danger flooded his mind as he desperately attempted to move his unresponsive limbs. No matter how much he tried to flex his arm or thrash his legs, everything below his neck remained completely immobile. Ironically his fight or flight response would only now activate as his ears filled with the familiar sound of bone on bone. His mind racing back to his episode of desperation, the terrible taste of his own flesh finally hitting him. He was too out of it to even notice how terrible his wing had tasted. "No! No please! Stop!" He would scream in protest as the searing pain returned, not that the boy reacted as his mind had finally numbed itself to any sort of pain. The sound stopped abruptly and Fael felt the beast collapse forward on-top of him. "No! Get off of me!" He would scream, hysteria filling his voice and mind. The beast complied and quickly propped itself above the Raven on its hands, eyes peering down at him. "Flip me over! Now!" He would hiss angrily as the crown finally seemed to make it's true ability known. Once again the beast would comply mechanically, as if it's very existance was subject to all of Faels desires. Upon being flipped the boy would see that he was too late. he was clipped. His wing now sat Infront of him, it's feathers glistening in the false light that permeated the plains.

"fix me.. please.." he would beg between sobs as the creature spurred to life, picking up the dismembered wing that what little blood it had left. Tearing chunks of flesh from the appendage before feeding it to the boy carefully, like a nurse caring for a dying patient. However Fael was far from dying, Purgatory wouldn't allow it. Rather he felt his flesh begin to reattach itself to his bones, his body acting to regenerate itself as his right wing worked to mend his body. Unlike his first taste of himself, he was completely alert as he was spoonfed his own flesh. The taste being comparable to rotten roadkill. It's texture alone almost enough to make him vomit, he probably would have if his regeneration were any faster. He was saved once more, but at what cost?

[imjeralee]

Wallflower: Chapter 5 - The Long Day

Raihan x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Note: This is my first Pokemon fanfic. I hope you enjoy it :) Originally posted on Archive of Our Own.

Summary: You’re an unassuming Pokemon breeder who works at the nursery in the Wild Area and he’s Raihan, the fearsome gym leader of Hammerlocke who has more than a million followers.

You don’t want anything to do with him but he’s…persistent.

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Lemon, smut, violence, language

THE LONG DAY

...

...

It's been a long day.

A match has just finished. He lost, again. The gym challenger jumps up and down happily whilst he recalls his fainted Duraludon and the sandstorm subsides. There's sand in his eyes but he forces himself to blink through it. The crowd's cheers gradually die down as both challengers make their way to the middle of the pitch and shake hands.

"Congrats." Raihan says, before he goes over his rehearsed line. He's said it so many times, he's lost count. He hands out the Dragon badge, gives them a TM as a gift and sends the gym challenger along their merry little way. He'll also keep his eyes peeled whether the gym challenger makes it to the finals or not.

The audience leaves, the stadium grows quiet and Raihan retires to the changing rooms where he pulls off his hoodie, leaving himself in his dragon uniform, plops himself down on a cold, hard bench, removes his headband and checks his phone. He goes through his selfies and opens his trusted app, uses the filters and chooses which one suits his liking. When he's finished with the minor edits, he posts it up on his account and a slew of likes and comments appear within several seconds of being uploaded.

'Great match, Raihan!'

'Loser'

'Ur so hot my king <333'

'Lost again, huh? not surprised'

''I get how u like to use weather in ur battles - sandstorm, rain, hail - but that was a pure shitstorm'

'Sending u so much luv, ur ma precious bby (ง︡'-'︠)ง'

’DADDY’

'Marry me!!!'

'Maybe if u spent more time training ur pokemon rather than taking selfies, u wouldn't b a shitty trainer. Just sayin ¯\_(ツ)_/¯'

'can I suck ur cock??'

The comments are mixed, needless to say. He scrolls down the growing list until he spots one from a fan with a username that seems familiar to him. The message says 'Plz go 2 Spikemuth??? I know u lost but I’ll always b ur biggest fan'.

Huh. Interesting. He hadn't been to Spikemuth for a long time and he hadn't seen Piers for a while either. Checking his Rotom calendar, he sees that he doesn't have any matches scheduled until next week. Maybe he should go and unwind, take a quick break. Replying to the message, he says 'Great idea!'. He doesn't even need to pack anything because he'll just be there for one night; instead, he merely books a return ticket from Hammerlocke to Circhester online and grabs his hotel keycard. Being a gym leader meant he had several privileges, including a twenty four seven hotel room courtesy of Macro Cosmos in Hotel Ionia.

Once he arrives in Spikemuth, it's already nighttime and he hits the nightclub after visiting Piers. He doesn't remember the name of the club but he frequents it and before he enters, he snaps another photo of himself and uploads it.

Inside, the nightclub is bustling. He's used to this type of scene and he goes to the bar, orders a drink. The first drink is on the house because he comes here so often. Although he's alone, he's approached various times by attractive women of all shapes and sizes who take selfies with him. In almost every photo, they stick their tongue out and do the peace sign. The amount of people who recognise him and go up to him as the night goes on makes him a little exhausted, so he doesn't stay in one area of the club for long, opting to change seats often. As soon as he's changed seats for the umpteenth time, he's immediately approached by a girl in a black dress; she's very attractive and slim.

"Hi." She says coolly, looking at him through half-hooded eyes.

"Hey." He replies, taking a sip of his drink.

"What are you doing here?"

He shrugs.

She smiles widely. "I'm Louisa. Are you gonna buy me a drink or you gonna leave me hanging?"

He takes another sip of his drink and settles the glass on the counter. "Sure."

Calling the bartender over by waving his hand lazily, Louisa excitedly takes the seat beside him and he allows her to order what she wants. It's something expensive but he puts it on his tab. For a few minutes or so, they chat and flirt, and she orders more and more drinks and her words become garbled and she asks him invasive questions which he’s used to, then she tells him she wants to be as rich and famous as he is and asks him for his secret. When he tells her there is no secret, her demeanour changes - she rubs her foot against the length of his leg before she slips out of her barstool and tugs at his hand playfully, inviting him to dance. He lets her take the lead and once on the dance floor, she begins grinding against his hips and taking his hands with hers and putting them on her waist.

Louisa's pulling some pretty bold moves but he finds himself looking away and it's then Raihan spots a girl sitting amongst a group of women in one corner who are chatting loudly; he remembers that interview he did recently and this girl - he has never seen her before and she is definetely not a gym challenger either - but she fits everything he described. He can't help but stare. She's wearing a tight, black dress which she doesn't seem to be comfortable in as she sits at the very edge, looking rather lost as she holds her drink in hand. She doesn't even look like she's enjoying herself. He watches her for a few moments or so, noticing how she lifts a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear and glance at her companions before she shifts her gaze to her lap. She's clearly not at home here. Raihan stares at her for a little longer than intended, drinking in the sight of her until Louisa steps on his foot with her pencil heel.

"Oh! I'm so sorry - " She says, before she immediately slams a hand over her mouth and rushes away - and promptly projectile vomits all over the floor. Looks like someone’s had too much to drink. She collapses and some concerned members of the public go help her out.

After making sure she's okay, he watches as she's carried out and returns to his seat and orders another drink. He downs it in one sip and wipes his mouth, finding his eyes glued on this other girl who’s captured his eye and piqued his interest; he sees her leaving her seat and walking towards his direction. It appears she's been asked to order drinks because she's the only one sober. Raihan watches her; she walks right past him, not even batting an eyelid.

What the Bidoof? She totally ignored him!

Doesn't she know who he is???

He observes her as she returns to her seat, balancing three drinks on a tray which her friends end up making her drink. A while later, she seems to be drunk as well because she heads to the dancefloor on her own, looking around and swaying slightly. Raihan finishes another drink and his head's throbbing too but what the hell - he wants to talk to her so he heads over and once he reaches her, he slides an arm around her waist and she looks up.

"Hi, do you wanna dance?"

She squints her eyes at him; she didn't hear him over the loud music. "...What?"

He repeats his question.

"I don't...I don't talk to strangers." She manages to slur out.

He's fairly amused; she's so cute, like a little Skitty with her pink cheeks and somewhat dazed expression. "I'm not a stranger, I'm Raihan."

"Who?"

He pauses, momentarily stunned.

Then he grins.

A girl who doesn't know him.

What are the odds, really?

...

Present.

There's a team of investigators at your house; the box has been removed and they opened it.

A pokemon's heart was inside.

You didn't see it but these men dressed in white came and took something red and fleshy out and deposited it into an icebox. The date has ended miserably; you sit on your sofa with the front door open as Looker’s team scour the rest of your house but the culprit is long gone. After taking down your testimony, you wonder what's going to happen next - Looker speaks to a man in scruffy shorts, flip flops, t-shirt, cap and sunglasses. People would've thought this man was a hobo but it was actually Chairman Rose in his civilian disguise. You can't hear what they're talking about but it can't be good. His secretary stands stiffly in silence with her hands clasped together, looking rather solemn.

Raihan sits beside you and you're stuck in his embrace. He's been hugging you the entire time but you feel he needs a hug more than you do because no-one should be facing this alone and also, you are grateful he's here so you wrap your arms around his waist and when you look up at him, he smiles at you reassuringly and pecks you on the forehead before snuggling you, and you do the same. It feels good to be in his arms, even though the date is over and there’s random men in your house, going through your things and trampling over your nice pristine carpet with their mucky boots.

Luckily, your Pokemon were fine - you flung open your door and when you saw Drifloon and Phantump in the living room, you pulled them into a hug and returned them to their pokeballs. Then you looked around for Espie and found her sleeping in your closet so you quickly returned her safely into her ball as well. Poliwag never left the bathroom and was swimming in your bathtub which he had filled with water so you quickly recalled him too. You tucked all your pokeballs into your safe box and counted them  three more times just incase. Everyone's accounted for. Thank Arceus, your Pokemon are unharmed. You will call Glenn later and ask if he can pop by your house and look after your Pokemon if he’s free.

What a shit way to end the first date you have with Raihan. You'll remember this for the rest of your life. Oh boy, what a story to tell the grandkids. Jokes aside, the Chairman's presence here doesn't bode well because you know once he finishes talking to Looker, he will probably speak to the both of you. This is bigger than you, Raihan and Looker...no matter how much you wanted to keep the Dusclops in the closet. More and more people are getting involved and will find out about the one night stand. This is humiliating.

Groaning, you close your eyes and Raihan hugs you even tighter than before that your lungs might pop. "Are you okay?" He's asked you that question a few times now.

You're not okay and you don't know whether to humour him or not, so you utter, "This isn't the first time I've seen a dead pokemon. Did I tell you that too?" Sarcastic, cynical response it is. He doesn't deserve it but you can't help yourself in this situation.

"Yeah," He replies (thank goodness he's not offended), "I'm sorry I got you involved."

"It's not your fault."

You resume your cuddling but it's cut short when Chairman Rose finishes talking to Looker and begins heading towards your house and enters through the front door. His secretary follows silently. Immediately, you climb out of his lap, allowing Raihan to stand up and you follow his example, except you begin to tremble slightly until Raihan squeezes your hand. Once Rose is directly in front of you, he exchanges glances between the two of you before he smiles warmly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my name is Rose and I'm the Chairman of the Pokemon League. You must be Raihan's new belle." He says.

Belle? Like the character from the popular, classical movie, Beauty and the Buzzwole? This guy is kind of weird. There's something off about him but you can't just put your finger on it.

Before you can even speak, Rose turns to the gym leader and adds, "Raihan, it's been a while since we last saw each other; usually I have no business in your affairs but this time....well, where do I even begin?" He's smiling but you don't think this conversation is heading to a good direction.

"Chairman Rose." Raihan greets him; he's different when dealing with this man. He's more stoic and serious. "We're taking care of it. I've got Looker helping us."

"I'm taking your word for it, but I'm disappointed in you. Get this sorted out right now. This could ruin everything I've worked for and I'm not taking any chances. Why else do you think the paparazzi aren't going crazy over this? I'm paying them to keep their mouths closed."

Raihan's expression doesn't change. "I'm aware."

"I'm glad you understand the severity of the circumstances here." With that, Rose turns and leaves. The tight-lipped woman doesn't say anything and follows after him.

There's a brief silence between the two of you until Raihan sits down on the sofa again.

"Raihan?" You mutter; he keeps his eyes trained on the floor but he looks up when you sit down beside him. "What did he mean? Is...is that why...when the photo of us got posted online, it just vanished the next day? I mean, okay, I guess it's a godsend something else came up but...did Chairman Rose really pay the press off? I'm sure that man won't do things for free......Is it coming from your pay cut?" Although you're not sure exactly how Raihan's making money - either from being sponsored by various companies or individuals, or from his social media - you're not sure but now that you think about it... well, you didn't think about it until now.

He nods.

Oh, shit. Your lip trembles slightly and you rub your elbow awkwardly. "Oh, Raihan."

"It's fine. I didn't want you to worry or get hurt." Raihan says, smiling gently before he reaches for your hand, entwining your fingers with his. You gaze at him worriedly and when he drops the smile, you carefully pull your hand free from his and taking a deep breath, you attempt to calm your thundering heart as you awkwardly slide your arms around him. This is your first time taking the initiative and your cheeks feel warmer than usual. He realises this too and he looks at you in surprise before you give him a squeeze. So... here you are, showing affection and care.

"I think it's best if we lay low after this." You mutter, "Chairman Rose is right. This is getting worse...and your career might be ruined. It's not worth it."

In response, he gives you a tight squeeze.

You hear someone clearing your throat and that's when you both throw your glances over. It's Looker; he looks slightly disgruntled. "Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to check if you’re both okay.”

“Thanks, Looker,” Raihan replies, "We're fine."

”Good.”

As he begins to leave, his Rotom hovers into the air and exclaims, "Bzzzt! Confirmed visual! Suspect is at Rose Tower!"

"Thanks, Rotom. Let's go."

You turn to Raihan and your gazes meet. "...Should we go with him?"

....

Looker leaves Ballonlea and makes his way to Rose Tower; arriving at reception, he shows the receptionist his badge and proceeds to tell her he's looking for someone. He gives a name - a female's - and the receptionist checks internal employee records and informs him this particular employee is located on the fifteenth floor, belonging to the IT department. Looker thanks her and enters the awaiting lift. He's only been to Rose Tower a few occasions and discovers it's quite a sterile environment. He watches various Macro Cosmos employees walking around, all donned in the casual, cool uniform, with the hat and shades and the funky-looking triangle shaped pokeball holders stuck to their hips. They're all role model trainers - friendly, intelligent and hip.

Rotom did an excellent job - Raihan's biggest fan is a Marco Cosmos employee who lives in Spikemuth. It was typical - drunk father, dilapidated environment, hundreds of photos of Raihan in her room... This will be over soon.

Once the lift doors open, Looker finds the next reception desk and asks the lady for the girl and where she sits; the lady asks if she should call her - Looker says no, but asks for access inside - the lady kindly grants permission to enter the IT floor using her pass. Once inside, there are rows and rows of desks in open plan all filled with large computer screens - many employees are looking at two or four screens at one time, tip-tapping away rapidly into their computers. There's numerous Porygon floating around but they don't pay attention to him.

Looker goes up to a random employee and asks if he knows where the girl is. The employee tells him that she's at a booth and points down the hallway. Looker curses and makes his way as quickly as he can to the hot desk area where he sees a lone girl with her back to him, sitting at one of the terminals. Looks like she's in the middle of uploading something. Shit, it's not the video, right? A Banette stands beside her and once it senses Looker's arrival, it tugs on her elbow and hisses, a rattling noise emitting from its body.

"Stop!" Looker yells; he's just a few feet from her and the girl abruptly turns round in her swivel chair. "Don't do it."

It's a young girl; maybe even younger than Raihan's current girlfriend. Looker wasn't sure what to exactly expect but she seems perfectly normal. "Who...who are you??" She demands, clearly stunned by his arrival.

"Don't do it." Looker says sternly; he doesn't bother with any introductions. "I know who you are and what you did. Are you sure you want to do this to Raihan?" Looker points to the computer where the screen is frozen with the commands 'Confirm' or 'Cancel' and she throws her glance to the monitor. "Do you have it in your heart to do something like this to him? Is this something you really want to do? Think about it. If you press that button, you'll ruin everything he's worked for and you know he's worked hard to get to where he is now."

The girl looks annoyed at his words, "I-I don't know what you're talking about. Please leave."

"I went to your home and spoke to your father, and I found the hotel room with the slot behind the light switch where you put the camera. We know what you did to the Deerling. Do you really want to go through with this?"

He's expecting some kind of angry response, some form of retaliation to his claims. However, she merely closes her eyes, re-opens them and says, "You don't understand, nobody does. If I don't do this then he won't even bat an eyelid at me. I did everything for him. He is my everything. I've done everything for him and it's still not enough. He didn't see me at all. He doesn't see me...why doesn't he see me? I do so much for him. I comment on every video and photo, I go to as many matches as I can, I changed myself, I changed my hair, my eyes - but it didn't work, nothing did."

"And are you happy with yourself? With who and what you have become?"

She grows silent.

"You aren't, are you? You probably don't recognise yourself anymore. You probably don't even know who you are anymore. Deep inside, you know this is wrong."

"She was one step ahead. It should've been me, it was supposed to be me."

"But it wasn't. And now you're angry, you're upset and betrayed."

"Yes."

"It doesn't have to be this way."

A brief silence spawns before she casts her morose gaze to the floor. She utters, "He helped me get up every morning....helped me get through the day. If it wasn't for him, I probably would've killed myself a long time ago."

"I understand." Looker replies, "If you really love him, then you would forgive him."

Before the girl can say anything, however, there's the sound of footsteps approaching and Looker turns to see Raihan and his girlfriend standing at the hallway along with a random Macro Cosmos employee - looks like they've just arrived and everyone seems stunned to see each other.

Chaos ensues:

"What's going on here?!" The Marco Cosmos employee demands.

"Goddamnit, what the hell are you two doing here?!" Looker barks angrily; he rarely loses his cool, but this...? Motherfurret!

"What the...what is she doing here?!" The obsessed fan begins to screams; her calm demeanour vanishes at once and her expression turns murderous as she glances at Banette. "Go Banette, attack! Use Shadow Ball!" She promptly turns to the computer and Looker fumbles for a pokeball.

"Growlithe, stop her!" He throws the capsule and releases the puppy pokemon who immediately dashes over and bites on the sleeve of her uniform, pulling her arm away from the mouse but she's able to start the upload.

Banette's Shadow Ball hurtles towards the gym leader's direction; Raihan releases his Duraludon to shield his girlfriend whilst he also throws himself over her. She cannot react in time to Banette's attack but a pokeball stuck to her waist opens up and a burst of light appears, revealing another pokemon that blocks the attack along with Duraludon - it's a Garchomp - and it immediately retaliates with a Dragon Claw, knocking the Banette out in one smooth hit. Looker rushes up to the desk and grabs the mouse, cancelling the upload before it reaches one hundred per cent. Banette's attack bounces off Duraludon and the room grows silent.

”No, Banette!” The obsessed fan screams as Growlithe tugs her away from the computer and Looker quickly pulls out the USB device. With her other hand, she grabs a pokeball off her belt and tosses it forwards, “Druddigon, go!"

As a massive pokemon appears and attacks Growlithe, she is released and she quickly returns her fainted Banette into an Ultra ball before making a run for it. Looker chases after her as she disappears into the emergency exit.

...

"Beldum, use Take Down!"

From that day on, you took Beldum outside to train everyday. The mountains near your home was an ideal place and after a few days of scouring, you found a small patch of grass containing weak pokemon which you could use to train Beldum, namely Trapinch who are at a level much lower than Beldum. You direct Beldum when to attack and avoid and when the Trapinch faints, you jump and down on the spot with joy.

"Yay! You did it!"

Beldum turns to you, eye curling with happiness. You can't always tell what it's thinking but you know it enjoys training. You can also feel it's growing stronger as the days pass. Beldum is not strong enough to face other pokemon so you only have him face Trapinch and so far, you're also noticing that his attack stats are getting stronger compared to his others.

"Phew! Let's go home!" You exclaim, "It's been a long day."

Beldum nods in agreement. You've used up all your potions to keep his health up; no worries though, because Glenn will be going to the pokemart tomorrow and you can ask him to buy some for you. As you return Beldum to his pokeball, suddenly it disappears from your hand and you're shoved from behind. Landing on the ground, your knees scraping in process, you look up to see a group of boys on their bikes who are clutching Beldum's pokeball. Urgh, if it isn't Graham and his little gang.

"Hey! Give me him back!" You yell angrily as you get up wobbly. Your knees are bleeding and so are your palms, but Beldum was more of your concern.

"You want him? Then come get 'im!" Graham exclaims, before he starts pedalling away on his bike. His cronies follow and you growl under your breath, grabbing the handlebars of your bike and lifting it off the ground. You follow the boys as fast as you could go, going deeper and deeper into the forest and up a steep mountain path until you see them up ahead and looks like they've ditched their bikes to crouch in front of some bushes; once you arrive, you climb off your bike and run up to them, furious.

Before you can even yell, Graham grabs you and slaps his grubby hand over your mouth, silencing you. "Shhhh! It'll hear you!" He hisses and you blink, wide-eyed.

He drags you towards the rest of his group where they're spying on a large dragon pokemon in a cave that is hunched over a Deerling... it's a small, feeble thing - and your eyes widen as you see the large pokemon smash the Deerling's head into the ground and it lets out a weak but horrifying, pained bleat until it stops moving. Growling low, the massive dragon pokemon begins to sink its jaws into its body and tear at the flesh. Using it's massive claws, it proceeds to tear the body apart and you see nothing but blood and entrails. The boys are staring, transfixed, whilst you watch in horror. You try to escape but Graham's grip on you is too strong as he forces you to watch, much to your disgust.

"W-what is it?" One of the boys asks.

"I think it's a Druddigon."

"And it's eating that Deerling!"

In unison, they all coo in awe even though you're horrified and repulsed and you try to escape once more, your foot stepping over a twig and causing it to snap loudly.  Everyone gasps as the Druddigon immediately turns its head to your direction and the boys make a run for it; Graham lets go of you and pushes you to the ground once more and your head smacks against the dirt. As you sit up, your vision is slightly blurred as you watch the boys grabbing their bikes and pedal away, leaving you behind. You don't know where Beldum is until it appears in a burst of light and hovers in front of you protectively.

"Beldum!" You exclaim with relief. Glancing around, you find Beldum's discarded pokeball and grab it, just as a massive shadow covers your form and you look up to see the huge Druddigon before you. It lets out an insanely loud roar and you scream, throwing your arms over your head to brace for impact -

- but nothing happens.

Lowering your arms, you glance over to see a small blue pokemon with a red tummy that has stopped the Druddigon in its rage; it stands alongside your Beldum, facing off against the dragon. It waves it's little arms and snaps its jaws as it attempts to kick sand at the Druddigon and you know it's using Sand Attack.

A Gible?

Standing up, you know neither of the pokemon are a match against the Druddigon so you recklessly grab your Beldum and the Gible and take off running.

....

Oh crumbs, Looker had almost calmed down the culprit but your group ruined it by waltzing into the scene. Neither of you were aware, of course; you and Raihan had merely arrived at Rose Tower and asked if anyone had seen Looker. A kind Macro Cosmos employee said yes and agreed to take you over to see him. However, the moment you saw that Druddigon and fear gripped you like ice. It's been a long time since you've been afraid and you’re brought to your senses when you hear Garchomp growling and you blink, turning to him.

"Chompy?"

Garchomp emits another growl; you know he's asking if you're okay.

"Yes, I'm fine. Sorry about that. Thanks for saving me."

He nods and then turns to the Druddigon.

Ah, that's right. A Gible came to save you that day. It just came out from nowhere and once you successfully ran away from the Druddigon, it decided to stay with you and Beldum. Ever since you added Gible to your team, you trained him until he evolved into a Garchomp and now he's one of your most reliable fighters along with Metagross. You smile fondly at Garchomp as he waddles in front of you and you quickly come to realise that Raihan's Duraludon is fighting the Druddigon; he's whittled down the Druddigon's health until it's weak and you hastily issue a command to finish it off: “Garchomp, use Dragon Claw.” You instruct, and your pokemon strikes down your opponent with speed and strength like no other.

Druddigon is quickly knocked out and Raihan turns to you and your pokemon, grinning. "We make a good team."

You're not sure what to think - Looker was handling it fine without you two. "We shouldn't have come. What were we thinking? We're not ten years old anymore. I'm too old for this." You reply, and Raihan chuckles. Turning to the Macro Cosmos employee who has escorted you to Looker, you see he's busy on the phone informing his superiors about an emergency - also, the entire IT hot desk area is in complete disarray. Your skirmish with Banette and Drudiggon has resulted in many upturned computers and chairs and a few broken desks.

"C'mon, we need to help Looker." Raihan says, reaching for your hand.

You nod and you both recall your pokemon, then head towards the direction where Looker and the girl sprinted off to.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins and your pulse is racing. This is definitely a date to remember. You're going to remember this day for a long time. You reach the emergency exit, opening the doors where you see the stairs as well as three lifts. It's eerily silent - if Looker was chasing the girl, you would hear them, right? Two of the lifts are heading up, so naturally you assume they've taken the lift - looks like it's going to the very top floor - and you and Raihan immediately jump into the third lift once it arrives and take it all the way up. This very exciting moment is temporarily put on hold as you stand side by side and listen to dingy elevator music on your way to the top; Raihan even attempts to take a selfie. He tries to include you in the photo too but you're not in the mood for photos so you politely decline.

Once the doors slide to an open, action rears it's ugly head again - you and Raihan find yourself in a huge outdoor arena; the air here is terribly chilly and you can feel strong gusts of wind blowing from the stands. Your breath comes out in short puffs and you begin to shiver but you see Looker and the obsessed fan ahead; they have finished a pokemon battle with Looker recalling his fainted pokemon. You and Raihan rush up to him but he holds his arm out.

"Don't do anything rash." He warns, and you take note of the obsessed fan who is standing a distance away. The moment she sees Raihan, and her eyes widen with fright.

"Thanks, Looker. What's her name?"

Looker tells him.

"Thanks, I'll talk to her." Raihan mutters.

"Wait, don't - " You and Looker speak in unison, but Raihan is already walking towards her. You help Looker stand on his feet and you both watch Raihan approach the girl. The atmosphere feels terse, thick with tension.

"Hi," He says, smiling, "You're my biggest fan, right?"

"Y-yes, I am." Strange, she's very timid all of a sudden.

He says her name and she nods.

"You....you know my name?"

"Of course I do."

She clamps a hand over her mouth in shock before tears begin bubbling in her eyes.

"Thanks for supporting me. If it weren't for you, for all of you, things could've turned out a lot differently for me. Thanks for being there for me. I get a lot of harsh comments, but you've always cheered me on. Thank you."

She nods vigorously. "Yes, yes, of course I will!!! You're so important to me, I-I - " She clutches her chest, "I can't believe this, you're...you-you're actually talking to me. I-I've always imagined this! And it's really happening!" She can't seem to control herself now as she splutters and stutters before she reaches for him. She wants to touch him and she begins making her way towards him. Raihan doesn't move, allowing her to approach. What the hell?! You try to interrupt but it's too late - as soon as she's in arm's length of him, you see her pulling a knife from behind her and Raihan doesn't realise -

You release Garchomp from his pokeball and he executes a Slash, causing the knife to go clattering out from her hand. She whips her head to you, furious; Raihan exchanges glances between the two of you whilst Looker hurriedly collects the knife.

"I challenge you to a pokemon battle!" You find yourself yelling out; you need to avert her attention from Raihan or else she'll try to pull a stunt like that again should she get the chance. Enraged, the obsessed fan accepts the challenge, grabs a pokeball from her belt and releases her pokemon. It's a Garchomp, too.

"Garchomp, use Dragon Tail!" She directs her pokemon to attack first.

"Outrage!" You yell, and you watch as both Garchomp lunge at each other. You will show no mercy. The moment they clash and you wince as the Dragon Tail connects with your pokemon; your Garchomp assaults the opponent at the same time and both pokemon land on the ground. Her Garchomp wobbles slightly before collapsing. Success! The enemy Garchomp is knocked out cold and your Garchomp is still standing!

Annoyed, she recalls her fainted Garchomp whilst yours stands proudly in the arena, victorious. She chooses her next pokeball and throws it high into the air. "Go, Dragonite!"

You return Garchomp, thank him for his hard work and choose your next battler. "Go, Tyranitar!"

Raihan watches you and your pokemon with his arms crossed and a smile; you know he's impressed but there's no time to waste.

"Hyper Beam!" The obsessed fan commands, and the Dragonite begins gathering energy in its mouth.

"Ice Punch!" You yell, and Tyranitar acknowledges your instruction with a roar and slams one arm towards the direction of the Dragonite's belly. A cluster of thick ice surrounds your Tyranitar's claw which proceeds to ram into the Dragonite and it stops in mid-attack, promptly knocking out the dragon pokemon with one hit. It's super effective!!!!

The Dragonite is recalled and there's only one pokeball attached to her belt; the obsessed fan is down to her last pokemon. You wonder what her final pokemon is - and she tosses the ball onto the field. A Hydreigon appears in a burst of light and you stare as she quickly returns it; a bright red light appears on her wrist and begins to gather around her - she has a Dynamax band - and she grabs the ball which has become enlarged and throws it high into the air, revealing the Dynamaxed Hydreigon. It promptly flaps its massive wings and a fierce gust of wind almost knocks you off your feet if Tyranitar didn't help by shielding you.

"Thanks, boy." You say, as Tyranitar growls affectionately at you before turning to face the gigantic Hydreigon. "It's Dynamaxed but don't be afraid."

Tyranitar throws it's glance to the ground, twiddling it's claws together timidly.

"You can do it! I believe in you!!" You pat him on the back, and Tyranitar returns to the field. "Use Stone Edge!"

Your Tyranitar nods and emits a roar; the ground shakes and just as the Hydreigon is beginning it attack, Tyranitar summons enormous pillars of rock that burst out from the ground and slams into the Hydreigon without delay. Although it's not a super effective move, the attack hits the Hydreigon square in the chest and it begins to explode in a glorious display of fire and light before it begins to return to normal size. He did it!!

Raihan and Looker watch as the dust clears away. The obsessed fan is out of pokemon. Your pokemon had completely and utterly decimated her team in minutes and her jaw drops in disbelief.

"No!" She yells, furious. Distraught, she looks around the arena shakily before she runs for the railings - you know what she's trying to do - before she can throw herself off, Raihan has grabbed her, hauling her away from the edge just in time. She lands in his chest as he drops over the floor and she attempts to wriggle free, flailing violently. Although you wonder if she's got another knife hidden somewhere, you get the feeling she's out of options and now she is truly helpless. Raihan sits up with the girl who's crying heavily and she's immediately intercepted by Looker who takes out a pair of handcuffs, slapping them on her wrists.

You recall Tyranitar, rush over to Raihan as he gets up to stand, grinning at you. Without thinking twice, you throw your arms around him; he's taken aback by your action, eyes wide, before he chuckles and quickly wraps his arms around you in return and scoops you off the ground; you find your feet leaving the floor and you quickly adjust yourself to this new position, slipping your arms around his neck whilst he keeps you hoisted up with his arms tucked under your knees, your chest pressed against his.

"You idiot, you could've gotten killed!" You can't help but scold him.

Your faces are close as he clutches you. "I'm sorry I made you worry."

"Not good enough." You retort, "Don't do that ever again!"

"Okay." He leans in and quickly pecks you on the mouth and you find your anger subsiding; you can't stay mad at him.

The two of you then turn to Looker who is escorting the obsessed fan out of the arena and towards the lifts. She's still crying uncontrollably, and Looker glances at you and Raihan. "Good job," Looker grunts out, "Thanks for your help, I appreciate it."

"What's going to happen now?"

"You both need to come with me to the police station." Looker replies, and Raihan - still carrying you - begins to trail after him.

"You can let me down." You tell him but he merely smiles at you cheerfully.

"Nope, I like carrying my princess like this ~ "

...

At the police station, there's a lot to do but Looker releases both yourself and Raihan after a few hours; you have provided another set of testimony and it does appear the case is closed. He thanks you for your efforts in stopping the obsessed fan and also your assistance with police investigation. Unused to receiving compliments, you stuttered out that you didn't do anything substantial. Meanwhile, there is some damage to Rose Tower but Macro Cosmos will deal with this themselves and Looker will ensure there are no repercussions on you and Raihan. When you ask Looker what will happen next, Looker informs you that the fan is charged with a number of crimes - recording illegally, blackmail, abuse of employee rights, invasion of privacy, attempted murder and pokemon slaughter. It will depend if charges are to be pressed - in a few days, she could stand trial and her pokemon, confiscated.

Attempted murder? It sounds serious and you scratch your head in befuddlement. It's taking a while to sink in that you were in a dangerous situation earlier...it's like something out of a crime drama or an action movie. Again, these sorts of stuff might happen to your friends, yes. Just not...you.

You can't help but wonder how Raihan feels. Is he doing well? Should he see a counsellor after this? Is he traumatised? You stand at the vending machine, slotting in coins for two fresh waters. You collect the drinks and turn round to see Raihan sitting quietly with his gaze trained on the floor. He's not on his phone, either. You sit down beside him and hand him the bottle of water; he thanks you, unscrews the lid and takes a few gulps.

You both sit in silence for a while until you say, "Do you want to talk about it?"

He breathes in and exhales gently then leans back on the seat, resting his elbows on the chair and looks up at the ceiling. You guess he isn’t in a mood to talk - which you will respect so you don't press him any further. However, he reaches for you, lifts you off your seat and eases you into his lap. He lifts you up as though you weighed nothing. You blink owlishly as he encircles his arms around your waist and buries his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent. You're unmoving for a few moments before you slowly wrap your arms around him. Your action prompts him to clutch onto you tighter, his grip on you increasing.

It becomes a full body hug with your chest pressed tightly against his and your hips knocking together, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck whilst he holds you by the waist. You’re so close to him you can feel his breath on your cheeks. You rest your chin on his shoulder and give him a little rub on his back. His muscles are tense. You hope he will loosen up but all Raihan does is hold you close to him and you can feel the warmth that radiates from his body as well as his steady heartbeat. This actually feels...nice.

There's never a dull moment with Raihan, because he begins trailing little kisses over the side of your face as you cling onto him. You can feel him grinning against your skin before he presses another kiss over your cheek and finally, your lips.

...

Once you return home, you open the door to see Glenn in your living room, playing with your Pokemon. He's wearing a Hydreigon hood with Hydreigon sock puppets on each hand. You bristle at the sight but say nothing. Meanwhile, Espeon sits at his feet, watching. Even Poliwag has left the bathroom and is now sitting in the armchair to his left. Upon your arrival, everyone looks up and Glenn removes the hood and grins widely at you, "Yo!!! How was the date?"

You exhale loudly as you trudge over, removing your bag and collapsing over the couch beside him; you drop your head on his shoulder and groan. "It was fine. I have something for you." You take out Ponyta's pokeball and hand it to him. Glenn has been looking for one for a long time and you know he really wants one, so you figured you'd gift it to him.

"Ohh, a pokemon! This is so exciting! I wonder what's inside?" Glenn takes the pokeball off you and opens it, releasing the horse pokemon and for a few seconds, he's stunned as it lets out a high-pitched whinny and clops its hooves. Glenn's jaw hits the floor. "Oh my Drowzee, whaaaaaat! No way!! Whaaaaaaat? Nooooo, it can't be - whaaaat!"

"Yep, it's a Galarian Ponyta."

He lets out a hoot of joy. "Thanks, sis!!!!" Glenn exclaims cheerfully as he reaches over and pinches at your nose with his fingers hidden behind the Hydreigon puppet before he rushes over to the Ponyta and throws his arms around it. "Ohhh, you're so beautiful, yes you are!! I'm gonna call you 'Sugarplum'."

You giggle as Glenn continues fawning and doting over the Ponyta who neighs in response as he hugs it. It appears to have taken a liking to him immediately and he returns it to the ball, grinning widely. "Thanks, sis!"

"Raihan caught it but he gave it to me.”

He blinks. "Really?! That's amazing! Can you thank him for me?"

"Of course."

You and Glenn settle on the couch again where he continues where he left off with the Hydreigon puppet, "Hydreigon used Dazzling Gleam!"

You wrinkle your nose in response; you don't remember Hydreigon being capable of using this fairy type move, but you're well aware Glenn likes to improvise a lot. "Do you have another puppet?"

"I sure do." Glenn fishes around his bag and gives you a puppet - it's an Espurr with pink beady, glassy eyes - and you promptly drape it over your right hand. Phantump and Drifloon watch, engrossed. "Hydreigon used Dark Pulse!"

"Nooooo, it's super effective!" You cry, shaking your puppet and Espeon hisses angrily at Glenn, "But Espurr clung on using it's Focus Sash! Espurr used Play Rough!"

"It's super effective!!!" Glenn roars, throwing his fists into the air, "Hydreigon regained a little of it's HP using its Leftovers! Hydreigon used Dragon Pulse!"

"Espurr fainted!" You yell, and you make the Espurr puppet squeak with pain before doubling over. Phantump trills loudly in response whilst Poliwag and Drifloon looks between the two of you. And Espeon is still hissing in dismay. When it grows silent, the two of you burst into laughter before you drop to the couch, exhausted.

"Long day, huh?" He asks, when you stop laughing.

"Yeah," You say, "...It was a long day."

...

#raihan x reader #raihan #Raihan x you #wallflower #jeralee #archiveofmyown #fanfic #fic #pokemon #pokemonshield #pokemonsword #pokemon shield and sword #kibana