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newcolonies · 4 years

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Someone You Loved

A/n: Here we are, another fic for the books. So basically, Ethan comes back from the Amazon, and Casey (mc) is quite angry about the matter. Here is my version of how the confrontation went down! Enjoy!

Also a BIG thanks to @aylamwrites and @caseyvalentineramsey for pre-reading and making sure it wasn’t complete trash!

Tag list: @openheart12 @queencarb @junehiratas @lilyvalentine @kaavyaethanramsey @tsrookie @caseyvalentineramsey @rookieoh @trappedinfandoms @lion-ess24 @rookiemarsswiftie @schnitzelbutterfingers @aylamwrites @laiba-the-person @starrystarrytrouble

*If you would like to be added or removed from the list just let me know.

Wordcount: 2,539

*All characters involved in this story are owned by PB

Title inspiration: Someone you loved by Lewis Capaldi

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Ethan walked into the hospital, he could feel his body shudder as the automatic doors welcomed him inside. The air was cool and crisp, the smell of cleaning products lingered heavily. He took in a deep breath, allowing himself to fill his lungs with this familiar smell. It smelt like home.

“My son, welcome back! How was your stay in the Amazon?” Naveen asked as he walked up to Ethan. The old man had a large grin plastered on his face. Ethan had been gone for two months, but he still had missed Naveen immensely. And due to the poor cell phone reception, the two haven't talked at all since he had been away.

“It was amazing,” he began, “it was quite the learning experience, I may add. It brought a new perspective to our job.” Ethan wore a large smile on his face. He had already begun to miss the Amazon. He had come to love the area and the people that he met during his stay. “How have things been while I was gone?”

“Everything ran quite smoothly! Though-” Naveen said his smile slowly fading into a serious grimace. “Ethan, I don't mean to be rude but you should go talk to Casey. She has been considerably down after you left,” he said in a deep whisper. “She hasn't quite been herself since you left.”

A pang of guilt washed over him, he had tried his best to keep that name out of his head. Hearing her name sent a shiver down his spine. Ethan left without saying anything to Casey, not even a single goodbye or explanation. He knew that she would hurt, but he still felt the need to leave without saying a single word to her. After all, the whole point of going to the Amazon was to reset the relationship with Casey to a professional level once again, and saying goodbye would have made it more difficult for him to finally leave.

Though Naveen was right, she deserved to see him, she deserved to know why he left. “Yea, I should. But I don't know if I can face her, Naveen.”

Naveen lay a hand on the young doctor's shoulder. “Son, you must face the things you believe you cannot do because that is how we grow. Go easy on her, explain how you are feeling, and why you left.”

Ethan nodded his head. Naveen had reassured Ethan, he felt confident, although he knew that every bit of confidence would disappear when he saw her. “Thank you, Naveen.” he offered him a brief smile to show his thankfulness for the old man. He assumed that she had been in the diagnostics office, most likely hunched over a file. The walk to the office felt like a mile. Nurses and doctors greeted him and welcomed him back as he walked. He felt everyone's eyes burning holes into him, making the trip feel impossibly longer.

Soon Ethan was standing at the door of the office. The nerves began to build up inside him, he felt like a rag doll. He knew this was going to go badly, but it had to be done. He swung the door open and walked in, allowing the door to shut loudly behind him.

“Oh, hey Baz,” she said without looking up from the file in front of her, “I forgot to ask, but can you take these files to the front desk,” she said, grabbing a stack of papers from the desk and looking up at the doorway, her voice trailed off. “Ethan?” she shook her head in disbelief.

“Hey Casey,” he replied, pulling a hand through his thick hair, he shifted his weight uncomfortably. He felt suffocated, like the walls of the office were closing in around him leaving only him and Casey alone in a cramped room, together. “How was the Amazon?” she roughly said.

“You knew that I went to the Amazon? How?” he asked, confusion laced in his voice. He only had told Naveen that he would be going on the trip, but of course, rumors spread like a wildfire around the hospital.

“It's funny you should ask that,” she gestured towards the chair across from her. “You may want to take a seat.” Ethan nodded and sat in the seat across from her. He didn't dare to look her in the eyes, so instead, he glanced at the files she was looking over. He could only make out the word cancer, but everything else had been too small for him to read.

“Well, when I noticed you had been gone for a while I had started to worry. So immediately I went to Naveen, who of course told me that you had gone to the Amazon.” Casey sputtered, a small smirk developing on her face. Ethan looked up from the table and met Casey's eyes. Despite the smile she wore, her eyes told a different story, one that read of sadness and anger.

“Casey, I should explain-” He began to say. Knowing that he was the reason that Casey had been broken, made him feel shallow. He managed to hurt the ones he loved, and it seemed to be a task that he had done often. Maybe, he wasn't cut out to be in a serious relationship, maybe he was destined to be a grumpy doctor that pushed people an arm's length away. Ethan often doubted himself, but this was the only doubt that he truly believed. If he were, to be honest with himself, he knew he didn't deserve her, he knew that she could do better than him. But sometimes the truth hurts too much to be addressed.

“Ethan, I believe that you should have explained two months before now. You left without telling me, not one goodbye, not one text, not one call. You left me in the dust questioning if I had done something wrong or if you were alright. Ethan, I have been nothing but miserable these past two months. And it's all thanks to you,” she roared arrogantly. Small tears began to pour out of her eyes.

“Casey, there's a lot of things I should have done differently, I know, but I did this for you. I did this, so we would have a chance to reset before whatever this is,” he said waving a hand between the two of them, “got out of hand. We crossed a line, and I can't allow that to happen again.” he said quietly, he was trying to remain professional. He hadn't wanted to let on that he was hurting as much as she was.

He had contemplated coming home every day just to see her, and hold her in his arms. The only thing he had wanted to do was see her, but he had to stay strong and resist the urges, for her sake.

Casey gave out a small laugh, “We have to stay professional, but only when it's convenient for you, Ethan. You continue to lead me on, and then cut me loose whenever you feel guilty or overwhelmed by us. I can't keep playing these back and forth games with you. You either have me or I walk out of those doors and you can forget about anything we ever were.” she protested.

All Ethan had wanted to do was pull her close to him and hold her for the rest of eternity, but instead, he just sat there. He hadn't wanted it to come down to this, but if he had to lose her entirely to secure the safety of her job, then he was willing to do so. But God did it hurt.

“Fine, if that's what you want, then I'll respect that,” Casey murmured breaking the beat of silence between them. She grabbed her bag and headed towards the door. Ethan could hear her small sniffles and gentle sobs as she walked towards the door. “I hope you're happy,” she said and walked out of the door letting it shut behind her. He was everything but happy, he felt as if he had just been hit by a wrecking ball. He felt destroyed, he felt useless. He had just let the one he loved walk out of that door. He just let it happen.

Ethan sighed and slid his glance over to the piece of paper that she had conveniently left behind, no doubt she had done it on purpose. He reached for the paper, and unlatch his glasses from the hem of his shirt and began the tedious task of looking over the file. The name at the top read Kyra Santana. Ethan propped his head on his hand and continued reading through the file.

Kyra was one of Casey's best friends, she was skilled in the art of getting on Ethan's nerves due to her flirty personality, and her willingness to risk everything without a set plan had stressed Ethan out. But she was a genuine and kind woman, a perfect match with Casey's personality. But unfortunately, that same woman, the woman that everyone loved dearly, was dying. Ethan stared at the words on the file until they turned into a blur. Not only had he left Casey, but her friend's health was also declining. This information made him feel sick to his stomach. How could be so inconsiderate?

Ethan jolted out of his seat and went to find her. She may not want to see him, but he needed to be with her. He needed to tell her how sorry he was. He needed to tell her that he was there for her. He needed to make things right between them. Ethan looked down at Kyra's file that was crumpled in his hand. He walked down to room 34A and knocked steadily on the door.

“Come on in!” he heard a cheery small voice exclaim. He hadn't been sure if he was in the right room, but her tone of voice clarified all doubt that he had. Ethan walked through the door to be greeted by a small, frail woman lying in the hospital bed. Iv's and wires remained spread around her, connecting her to the large machines that sat humming lowly next to her. On Kyra's right sat Casey. She looked up at him briefly, before looking back at Kyra, her attempt at avoiding any contact with him.

“Hey Kyra, I hope you don't mind if I take Casey for a second,” Ethan spoke lowly.

“Oh, that's no problem, you two have fun!” she exclaimed all but subtly. “And if you could bring her back before I- you know,” she motioned her hand in a line across her neck and stuck out her tongue. Casey shot a stern glance at Kyra before heading towards the door with Ethan. She hadn't fought him, she never refused, she just walked through the door with him.

Ethan shut the door slowly and took in a deep breath before speaking, his attempt at clearing the fog that had occupied his mind. “Casey, can we please talk about this,” he calmly said.

“Talk about what Ethan? How you left me for two months, or how my friend is knocking on death's door?” she said in a high-pitched voice. Ethan could still see the makeup smudged under her eyes from when she had cried earlier. “Or shall we talk about how you just let me walk out of those doors?”

“Casey,” Ethan said defeated. “I wanted to stop you from walking out of the doors. I wanted to tell you that I was leaving. There are so many things that I had wanted to do differently.” “And why didn't you? Because you're too professional? Because you're concerned about my job rather than my happiness? Which will it be Ethan? I've heard your excuse two too many times.” She spouted coldly.

Ethan felt a nip of pain as the words escaped her mouth. Unfortunately, everything she said had been true. He sounded as if he was a soulless monster, and perhaps he was. He had decided that he needed to be honest with her because that's what she deserves, that's what deserved two months ago. “I'm terrified. I feel weak, I feel vulnerable. Casey, I'm in love with you and that's exactly what terrifies me. I have never felt this way about anyone, this is new and it scares me. I'm scared of messing up, and hurting you even more than I have already.” He felt small and exposed.

“Ethan, I love you. I always have, I never have given up on you. I know truly that we can make this work if we tried. But you have to stop avoiding the inevitable, it truly only makes things worse.” Casey softly said.

“I'm so sorry, Casey. I want to make us work, I do.” Ethan exclaimed.

“I want to make us work too. And we can, but we have to face the reality that we might get in trouble for this,” she said, motioning between the two of them, “But I know that I am so willing to face those consequences, even if that means I get to be with you for a minute of my day.” she stated with a small smile.

Ethan nodded his head in agreeance. He finally had understood what he was feeling. It wasn't just the love that he felt for this woman, it was gratitude. It was the appreciation he felt every moment he saw her. It was the way he lit up every time he was around her. He understood that these feelings are not ones that should be feared, yet these are the feelings he needed to embrace.

He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her closer to him as Casey responded by wrapping her small arms around his neck. He pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and guided her face to his before their lips met. The kiss they shared brought life back to the two doctors. He felt the tension that was building up in his body convert to mere bliss. Casey smiled against his lips before she pulled away and stared at Ethan, joy prevalent on her face. She laid her head on his chest, clinging on to him for dear life.

They stayed like this for a while until the moment was soon ruined by the faint sound of clapping in the background. Casey broke from Ethan's grip, only offering him a puzzled look. She opened the door to Kyra's room curiously, to see her clapping her hands fervently a large grin on her face.

“That kiss was hot, it was almost movie-worthy,” she happily said. Ethan rolled his eyes in annoyance, but the smile he was trying to conceal had come out. He was the happiest he had been in a while.

Despite Ethan's obvious annoyance, Casey burst out laughing. “It was wasn't it,” she exclaimed proudly grasping her hand in Ethan's.

They were happy, and that's all the mattered right now. He knew there would stumbling blocks ahead, but for now, he was going to enjoy the small moments, because when he left her he found out that those moments are the ones that he treasured the most.

#open heart #open heart second year #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #ethan x casey #choices open heart #openheart #choices #ethan ramsey fanfiction #pixelberry #choices stories you play

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downwiththeficness · 4 years

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In the Blood-Part Five

Pairing: Brasa/Female OC

Words: ~2,800

Warnings: Blood, canon typical violence

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve

She’d forgotten what the air was like here. The heat ate at her, soaking into her skin and clothes. The sun had never felt closer and she made a mental note to invest in sunscreen at her earliest opportunity. Lilah hadn’t expected to be away so long, but a month in Canada has stretched to two, then three. She’d slept almost a week straight and then spent the rest of the time working out, eating, reading, and drinking—as little human interaction as possible. And, the dreams had stopped. Her nights were once again restful and she patted herself on the back for knowing exactly what she needed to do to reset.

There was a car waiting for her at the airport, as Javier had told her there would be. She gave the driver a warm greeting and allowed him to load her luggage into the trunk. She would be driven to a hotel where she’d get her next assignment. Just like that. No easing into it, just right back into the work. It wasn’t surprising. Lilah very rarely eased into anything.

What was surprising was the hotel that the car stopped in front of. It was nice. Very nice. After years of rooms that were average to mediocre, at best, this was a big change. Lilah was immediately suspicious.

The room, or rooms (plural), were fitted with luxuries that she would have never paid for. Plush couches, stunning light fixtures, fresh flowers in vases that were edged in gold. It was lavish in a way that made her uncomfortable.

Javier sat smugly on one such couch, waving her over. He was wearing a dark blue suit, no waistcoat or tie, the white shirt open at the collar. It was probably the most dressed down that she’d ever seen him, and that, more than the opulent room, was disconcerting.

“Sit! How was your flight? Good?”

Lilah nodded in the affirmative, “Yeah, the flight was good.”

“And your vacation, it was sufficient?”

She knew that Javier had taken her extended time off with not a small bit of dissatisfaction. But, he’d let her have it when he could have threatened her contract. She was grateful.

“It was. I really needed it.”

His smile was all teeth, “Good. Now, we have business.”

Lilah listened while he outlined what he needed her to do. It was a fairly simple operation. There had been a leak, nothing serious, just a contractor who had talked too much to the wrong people. Javier wanted her to assess the situation and manage the collateral damage. He trusted her judgment. She accepted the thumb drive and agreed to meet the team in the board room of the hotel as soon as she’d cleaned up and gotten settled.

After Javier took his leave, Lilah leaned back on the couch and stared at the complex entertainment set up. She wouldn’t use it. TV, streaming or otherwise, was set aside while she worked. She spent every moment of free time either in a car or at a computer, running point. She stood and grabbed her luggage and hauled it over to the dresser, unzipping the front pocket to pull out her laptop and cell phone. Lilah set them aside and turned to look at the bed. Even though she’d just been on a three month vacation, she really wanted to sink into that mattress.

“Another hotel?”

She wasn’t ashamed to say she screamed. High pitched and ragged from her throat, the sound seemed to echo off the tastefully taupe walls. Her hands covered her mouth, hanging open in shock. She credited herself for not flinging her body across the bed to the other side of the room. The shock of seeing him after three months of silence kept her rooted to the spot.

He looked at her levelly, hands in the pockets of a pair of black slacks that were cut so well for his body that she was sure they were tailored specifically for him. Lilah returned his look, breathing hard through her nose. She’d forgotten how tall he was, forcing even her to look up at him. Her throat was dry, she couldn’t speak.

After another moment of his close regard, he moved forward, pulling his hands from his pockets and taking three long steps forward until he stood half a foot from her. Very slowly, he reached up and pulled her hands from her face. He stepped forward into her space, placing her palms on his chest. To Lilah, he felt real and solid beneath them, and just a touch too warm. She noticed that he was wearing the gloves again.

“Where have you been?”

Her eyes shot up from their hands, and she took a moment to collect herself before answering, “Canada.”

His thumbs rubbed against the outside of her wrists, a slow rhythmic motion that had her swaying just a little on her feet. She started to pull away, but his fingers tightened just a fraction in warning.

“So far away,” he murmured, almost to himself.

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. His presence was making her feel outside of herself—disconnected—and yet every nerve was firing full throttle. It was as if her body had been lit up from the inside, shaking loose the malaise of her time away. She hadn’t realized that she’d closed her eyes to the feeling until one of his hands left her arm and cupped her jaw. Lilah swallowed and looked at him.

He licked his lips and she followed the movement, inhaling sharply. Coffee and caramel. She didn’t think she’d be able to associate that scent with anything but him for the rest of her life. It was burned into her memory like the feeling of his hand running along the length of her arm before it dropped and gripped her hip. Everywhere they touched was warm and tinged with static.

Lilah felt him breathe deep, his eyes closing as he leaned down, “You’re close now.”

Close was one way to put it. His hold had pulled her into his body so that his nose brushed her cheek. Her fingers curled into his shirt, nails scraping the fabric as she was pulled taut in his hands. Tentatively, far more tentatively than she would have thought him capable, he pressed his lips to hers. He held them there for several beats, as if waiting. Lilah didn’t think she was breathing. She sure as shit wasn’t thinking.

He broke away, but only to change the angle and to run his tongue over her bottom lip. Lilah would have been embarrassed by the moan that fell out of her but she was too busy being very thoroughly kissed. Long, deep kisses that were somehow too intense and not nearly enough. If she thought the scent of him was good, his taste was unbelievable. Her hands reached up into his hair to hold him to her as she gorged herself on it. Nothing could be better, and she wanted more.

With a groan, he wrapped both arms around her and hauled her up so that she was on her toes. Unprepared for the quick movement, Lilah gave a little squeak. She could feel him laugh a little into the kiss before he became otherwise occupied with mouthing along her jawline. In retaliation, Lilah carded the strands of his hair through the fingers of one hand and made a fist, pulling gently. He hissed against her skin, one hand falling to her ass and grabbing a handful. She felt him widen his stance a little, hips flexing forward so that she could feel him begin to harden against her.

Despite the fact that she really, really wanted to keep kissing him, Lilah’s brain finally kicked into gear and she pulled her hands from his hair. He made an entirely too endearing sound of displeasure as he lifted his head to look down at her. The words she wanted to say died in her throat as she gazed up at him. Mouth a little swollen from her kiss, eyes blown wide with want, the intensity of how he regarded her had her dropping down from her toes in shock. Her calves thanked her for the rest.

“Stay close,” he whispered.

Lilah blinked, “I’m right here.”

His hands flexed against her and he opened his mouth to reply, but his head whipped to the side. He stared across the room for several seconds before he looked back at her. Lilah’s brows came together in confusion and she almost voiced the question on her tongue. But, when she blinked, he was gone and she was off balance enough that she stumbled.

Pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes, she shook her head vigorously. She could still taste him, and his scent lingered on her clothes.

“I just got here,” she growled, as if to censure the universe for throwing her back into the deep end.

She breathed deep, saying, “No. No, no, no. Get your shit, go to the board room. Do your job.”

The board room was...about as lavish as she expected. The table was ornate and covered in a quarter inch thick layer of glass to protect the wood. A protector screen was already up and running, a picture of someone she didn’t recognize on display. There were no windows and the room was dimly lit.

She entered and sat down, noting the three men in the room, none of which she recognized.

“Javier sent me.”

A man with hair so blonde it was almost white looked at her over rimless glasses. He was wearing a white button up and a striped tie. She couldn’t tell, but she thought he might also have a pocket protector.

“Lilah, right?”

She nodded.

“That guy,” he pointed at the screen, “We need to take care of—quickly, discreetly.”

Lilah looked at the picture on the screen. He was maybe eighteen and was wearing a beanie and over-sized sweatshirt. His facial hair hadn’t really filled in, but he was making a valiant effort at growing out a mustache.

“We lost a shipment because of him.”

She dropped her gaze to the source of the new voice. He was mid-thirties, black, hair cut so short that he was almost bald. He spoke with an accent that she couldn’t place.

“What kind of shipment?”

His eyes didn’t blink, “Does it matter?”

She shook her head, “Not in the least. Let’s get started.”

Afterwards, she closed down her laptop and said her goodbyes to the group. She doubted that she would ever see them again, if the past was anything to go by. Still, a plan was in place. All she had to do was get the guy to the rooftop of a building, see if he would tell her what he had said out loud, and the rest of the team would take care of it. Lilah knew what would happen from there, and she knew that it wouldn’t end well.

As she stood in the elevator, Lilah felt tiredness creep in. She’d put the ‘incident’ out of her mind while she sat in the board room, but, now that it was quiet, she had a hard time steering her thoughts elsewhere. She wasn’t asleep, and this wasn’t stress. And, she was having a hard time believing that her mind could come up with that detailed a fantasy while suffering from jet lag.

Stepping out of the elevator, she turned and headed down the hall to her room, keying in and shoving herself through the door. She dropped the key onto the side table and let her laptop fall onto one of the couch cushions. A bath. Then, bed.

Stretching, she grabbed a change of clothes from her luggage and slipped out of her shoes, padding to the bathroom. Blindly, she reached inside and turned on the lights, closing the door behind her. The first clue that something wasn’t right was the temperature. It was hot. Really, really hot. Lilah closed her eyes and tried to center herself.

Huffing, she turned and opened her eyes. Before her was a long hallway, a red light shining throughout. Voices filtered towards her. She took a long moment to debate whether or not following them was a good idea. Looking over her shoulder, Lilah found that the door was gone, replaced by the brick wall. She rolled her eyes. Forward, then.

Carefully, and as quietly as she could in her socks, she slipped down the hall, one hand out in front of her, the other tracing along the brick. The hallway opened up to a large, domed room filled with people. There was a palpable energy in the air, excitement on everyone’s faces. Lilah pressed herself against the back wall, sliding to the side.

Cutting the room into thirds were two rows of church pews. A cursory glance to the front of the room presented her with wide slab of stone about waist high. Behind it stood the staff, on it sat the cup. Her eyes widened and she felt the air go out of her in a way that left her dizzy and weak. Knees buckling, she gripped the wall and forced herself to move further forward.

As she rounded a column, Lilah caught sight of a familiar leather jacket. She hopped forward and pressed her back said column, hoping he hadn’t seen her. What was he doing in a church? What was she doing in a church, for that matter? How was he connected to the staff and cup, and the diner, and Javier?

He spoke in a halting, sharp language that stung her ears, but she couldn’t stop herself from easing around the column and looking. The crowd was absolutely silent, and she could see them moving forward eagerly. Keeping low, she moved to another column, closing the distance between them. Column by column she moved, until she was nearly parallel to him, watching the side of his face as he continued to speak.

Lilah didn’t understand a word he was saying, it didn’t sound like any language she’d ever heard, but she could read his body. He was angry, and with his anger seemed to come a heat that billowed outwards. Sweat dripped from her temple down the side of her cheek. It dropped down her jaw to her chest, running between her breasts and over her stomach. Her palms slipped on the stone.

His speech rose to a crescendo, and he pointed to the crowd. There was an audible gasp, and a voice that spoke quickly. She knew that tone—pleading. The woman was brought forward, struggling against the grip of two men. Lilah felt her chest tighten, her mind already three steps ahead and screaming at her to look away.

The woman was laid on the altar and he stood over her, talking lowly. Lilah recognized that look. Don’t kill me, it said. Please, I’ll do anything.

He was unmoved, and there was a ferocity in his expression that chilled her, despite the oppressive heat of the room. One gloved hand slid down the woman’s chest to her belly, and then in a quick, jerking movement, it was inside of her. Reaching up through the rib cage. Lilah felt her stomach turn as she watched him dig further, heard the woman’s screams.

After a moment, he pulled free, holding a snake high in the air. A roar build among the crowd and she thought she saw some of their faces distort grotesquely. He held the snake high for a few beats, then tossed it into a fire burning behind him. The woman on the altar screamed, a high, unearthly thing to Lilah’s ears.

She felt bile rise up into her throat as he reached back inside the woman. A second later, he was holding her heart in front of him. With his free hand, he picked up the cup and squeezed. Blood poured from the heart and the woman beneath shuddered before exploding into dust. Lilah’s jaw dropped, barely believing what she was seeing. It didn’t make any sense.

Leaning against the column, she watched him toss the heart into the fire before lifting the cup in a salute to the crowd.

“Oh, don’t do it,” she breathed, knowing that he would.

He drank deeply, taking down the entire contents of the cup as if it were water. Lilah swallowed, gripping her stomach as she tried not to throw up. The world tilted sideways and the knees that had been threatening her for the last several minutes final delivered on that threat. She fell to the ground.

Vomit covered the tile floor of the bathroom, Lilah pressed her face to a clean square, glad for the cool stone. She stayed there for a long time just to make sure she wouldn’t heave again. Then, she stood, wiped her face, and wpied up her mess.

Later, when she lay in bed, she thought about what she had seen. She wasn’t stressed. She wasn’t drugged—she’d not eaten or drank anything that wasn’t sealed. That left...crazy. Lilah was going crazy.

#brasa #from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #fdtd #maurice compte #In the Blood

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knybits · 5 years

Text

A Murder of One

Chapter:

Summary:

Kanon is stuck in time while Akiko speeds through it almost inhumanely. Kanao and Akiko both perform in their own life changing test

Previous Chapter | Origin | Next Chapter

Akiko always remembers her patients.

Undoubtedly, her first patients are Kanon and Haruki as well as Giyuu back in March.

Then Nakaha at the Butterfly estate, then Umiko the next day.

Her most difficult patient during the spring is a soldier with two broken ribs and their right ulna sticking out.

Summer, Akiko remembers sweating as she patches up another soldier with head trauma.

Fall’s most difficult case is a punctured lung. Akiko actually receives her first piece of advice from the doctor, and they had to work together for the case in order to save the soldier’s life.

Winter is hard because Akiko loses her first life.

The soldier has a burst aorta, and Akiko can’t save them in time even with three other doctors in the operating room with her.

She has to work again the next day, fixing broken bones and creating antidotes for a few dying soldiers. Aoi tries to reassure her that she did her best, and that she’s still become a better doctor than eight months ago.

“But I’m not a doctor,” Akiko states later on that day, staring at a pair of scissors in her hand. Aoi looks at her with furrowed brows, a bit mad at Akiko’s attitude.

“Well you’ve seen enough to be one.”

Akiko cuts an inch of her hair off that day.

On the anniversary of the Kamado deaths, Akiko wears black again.

She also visits Haruki, who still hasn’t woken up from his coma.

“Anything today?” Akiko asks as she walks into another room of the Butterfly Estate. Kanon is sitting by Haruki’s side, unmoving and staring at his body without a will to live in her eyes.

Kanon’s hands aren’t rough like they used to be, and it’s Akiko’s hands that are rough now.

Kanon’s been left back in time, and Akiko’s time has sped up.

On New Years, Akiko doesn’t have a single patient. She’s glad but she’s restless, waiting for Aoi to burst into her room to tell her that another soldier is bleeding out onto the operating table.

Kanon leaves Haruki’s room for what feels like the first time, closing the kitchen off from everyone else to use. Aoi is beyond mad, but when Akiko rests a hand on her shoulder and shakes her head, Aoi decides to stay put in the living room.

Everyone is sitting under the kotatsu, Shinobu asking Akiko about her studies while Sumi, Naho and Kiyo giggle and eat tangerines. Aoi listens to Shinobu and Akiko talk about patients, and Kanao doesn’t say a word as per usual (Shinobu told her to take a break from blowing into the gourd).

“Dinner,” a stoic voice shakes the girls, and they see Kanon with bowls of toshi-koshi soba for the New Year.

Shinobu smiles, standing up to help Kanon with the tray. When the bowls are passed around, Shinobu take Kanon’s hands into her own, moving delicately to make sure Kanon doesn’t crack.

“How lovely! I suppose this allows you to be our chef now?”

Kanon doesn’t say anything, glancing over to Akiko instead. Aquamarine meets gold, and Akiko finds herself nodding to Kanon.

Almost as if to only mirror movement, Kanon nods too, and she’s ushered to sit by everyone under the kotatsu; all eight girls enjoying toshi-koshi soba, tangerines, and mochi as they listen to the temple bell ring all throughout the night.

Spring comes and goes, and it’s been a full year. Akiko hasn’t once seen Giyuu come to visit the Butterfly estate, and Akiko asks Shinobu almost daily to see if she can get Giyuu to come. But Shinobu smiles and tells Akiko that Pillars are always busy.

So Akiko resets dislocated joints, she stitches deep gashes, she cuts off arms and legs, she learns to make medicine and she learns how to stop an arterial bleed.

She sleeps late at night after making her rounds on patients. She wakes up early to the cawing of Shinobu’s crow and Aoi stating the injuries of whoever has been lugged into the Butterfly Estate.

Akiko’s hair is cut shorter and shorter, her limbs grow longer and her voice starts to feel like velvet. Her eyes remain the same color, yes, but they spark differently now.

Shinobu can’t place a single emotion behind Akiko’s hues, and she wishes she has her blessed eyes.

Because Akiko knows when Kanon is about to break next to her little brother, or when Aoi is having trouble with a patient, or when one of the three girls are too stressed for a situation, or when Shinobu is about to collapse with exhaustion.

Haruki doesn’t stir and whenever Akiko checks on him, she knows that he won’t wake for a long time. Kanon stays by his side when she doesn’t cook, and looks the most tense as she watches him. So Akiko advises Kanon to just stay in the kitchen to keep her mind off her brother.

“Why.”

“Huh?”

Akiko blinks owlishly at Kanon, heart beginning to hammer in the chest as Kanon’s dead eyes bore into her own.

“Well, you’ll get better if you cook, okay?”

“What kind of an idea is that?”

“Don’t think too much of it!” Shinobu’s sickly sweet voice breaks the tension and Akiko jumps to find Shinobu seated right next to her.

“Doctor’s orders!”

Summer tumbles into fall, and Akiko’s hair is up to her shoulders now. She hasn’t cut it in a while, and it’s finally grown longer. She thumbs it, overlooking the garden as Kanao trains for the day. Aoi is hoisting newly washed sheets, and the three girls are chasing another butterfly.

“Tomioka-san! How nice of you to visit!”

Eyes wide, Akiko scrambles from the engawa as her body goes cold despite the overbearing heat.

Footsteps thunder down the hallways and Akiko nearly falls over the hems of her kimono. A dead ocean meets dirtied topaz and the air is sucked out of the room.

“My! You ran rather fast now didn’t you?” Shinobu laughs and soft footsteps come from behind Akiko.

Giyuu turns his attention to whoever is behind Akiko instead before taking his shoes off and walking into the estate. It’s Kanon he walks up to, her hands holding a tray of tea and some wagashi.

Akiko almost lets him brush past her, but her thought of mind snaps back into place and it’s not all white noise anymore.

“A year and a half…”

The footsteps stop.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?”

A crow caws and Akiko closes her eyes, turning her face to the floor as tears dribble out of her eyes.

“...Most likely.”

Akiko looks to see a crow perched on Shinobu’s arm, and she doesn’t leave her room for a week.

Fall dances into winter and Akiko’s hair brushes her ears. It’s grown longer since she hacked at it back when the leaves started to color orange and red. Akiko relapsed in her room until Aoi dragged her out at the end of the week.

Akiko’s hands are littered with small cuts now, but she’s finally picked her rhythm back up again and works tirelessly as ever.

Demons that are stronger during the winter season begin to pop back up, and Akiko finds herself treating more frostbitten fingers. She has to treat a soldier of hypothermia, who also goes into cardiac arrest on the table.

But that’s all said and done, and Akiko eats a bowl of ramen with Kanao under the kotatsu. No words are exchanged, as always, but Akiko sees that Kanao is itching to speak up.

“You don’t need to flip a coin to talk to me, y’know,” Akiko says, blowing on her ramen before slurping it up. Kanao stares at Akiko before flipping a coin anyway, and it lands heads.

Akiko raises a brow when Kanao opens her mouth, but even so she still seems to be struggling. So Akiko starts first, asking what Kanao flipped it for.

“Uhm… If I should do what you said…”

“And?”

“I’ll… I’ll talk to you.”

Akiko smiles before nodding her head, “Good.”

Two years later and, finally, there’s progress between the girls.

The snow outside is nearly melted away and Akiko finds herself sitting in front of Shinobu.

Aoi called her in the middle of treating a bed ridden patient, telling her that Shinobu requested her, and Akiko had to clean her hands before rushing to Shinobu’s room.

The fish tank in the corner of the room catches Akiko’s attention, but there isn’t much to look at.

“I’ll be observing you today!” Shinobu says lightly, and Akiko tilts her head in confusion.

“Is this because Kanao left for Final Selection?”

Akiko doesn’t get a real answer, only a close eyed smile, before Aoi bursts into the room.

“There’s around 12 demon slayers in the garden right now! Kakushi just brought them in! Akiko, let’s go!”

Akiko finds herself in the garden, pulling her white robe on as Sumi, Naho, and Kiyo run besides her. Aoi takes the liberty to start prepping as many rooms as possible, opening beds and gathering supplies.

“Naho, call for four- no, six doctors from town. Run, send a crow, get a kakushi to do it, whatever you need to do. We need as many people to help, alright?” Akiko orders, and Naho breaks off from the group to call for Shinobu’s crow.

“Sumi,” an idea strikes Akiko, “go grab the ribbons in my room. Four colors. Cut them at arm's length.” Sumi rushes off to fulfill her orders, and Akiko continues to run to the garden.

Akiko doesn’t even bother slipping sandals on when she makes it to the garden, and there’s indeed 12 injured soldiers. Kakushi are panicking a bit, but Akiko points to one standing nearby to come and explain the situation.

“A task force of 20 soldiers was sent to kill the new lower six demon. We gathered as many bodies as we could, but the other eight were clearly dead. Here are all the people we have left,” they explain, and Akiko glares.

“Under whose jurisdiction were you allowed to announce a death?” She demands an answer, and other kakushi nearby back away in fear.

“I-It’s just… When we checked, they weren’t breathing-”

“Were their heads decapitated? Was their body set in rigor mortis? Dependent lividity? Was there intense bruising on the bottom of the body?” Akiko presses on, seething with anger and some of the kakushi leave, rushing away in the same direction. Akiko assumes it’s where the attack took place.

“All bodies must be brought here, and that’s final from this day forth,” her voice calls the attention of all the kakushi, and she’s mildly surprised when they bow their heads to her, chanting, “Yes ma'am!”

Akiko nods to herself before overlooking the mess of soldiers, Sumi returning to her side with a bunch of ribbons in her hand. With quick thanks, Akiko takes the ribbons before placing her hands on her hips, yelling over all other noise.

“Demon slayers that hear my voice, walk to me!”

A good half are able to make their way to her, and Akiko nods her head before looking at Sumi and Kiyo and directing them to deal with the seven slayers. They’re the least injured, so the small girls can handle their injuries with next to no problem at all, but they’re given white ribbons to tag the demon slayers with.

Aoi comes running up to Akiko and Akiko points out the soldiers that were able to raise their heads but were unable to move.

“Aoi, gather the help of some kakushi and get the ones that are bleeding profusely into a room. Treat their main complaint, tie these blue ribbons on them, and above all don’t do harm,” Aoi nods with her orders before rushing to the four soldiers clutching their injuries.

Akiko herself runs to the last soldier on the floor, who doesn’t move and continues to bleed from her head. Her chest barely rises and Akiko works to remove her clothes. There’s another bleed from her stomach and Akiko quickly pats the girl down, noting four broken ribs and a punctured lung as well as a head injury.

She ties a red ribbon onto the girl’s leg, then commands two kakushi to transport the girl to an open room and to await further orders. Akiko moves to help Aoi to pat down the last soldier, only finding a broken leg and intense bleeding from his back.

The doctors rush in, and Akiko breathes a sigh of relief before sending a few off to rooms where badly injured soldiers remain. The last remaining doctor awaits orders, and Akiko leads him back to the garden.

“More patients are on their way. It’s your job to tag them either white, blue or red. White means minor injuries, then can comprehend questions and can move. Blue, they can’t move but they’re conscious. Red, the worst case. Black if they’re dead.”

The doctor is quick to understand that he’s allowed to announce time of death, and Akiko rushes back into the estate to begin her job. She sees Shinobu from the corner of her eye, unmoving and observing Akiko’s work like she said she would.

Akiko is in hell.

The girl battles between life and death with Akiko, constantly going into cardiac arrest and requiring Akiko to drain her lungs of blood before fixing the punctured lung and broken ribs. She works for hours and hours, a kakushi nearby to help though not too knowledgeable with medicine.

Akiko makes do.

A few times, either Aoi or Kiyo or one of the doctors would slip into the room, announcing a death or the stabilization of a soldier.

Akiko is glad to hear that there’s far more life saving than life losing.

Nine hours later and Akiko has stabilized the girl.

She instructs the kakushi to transport her body to a bed in the medical ward before yelling for someone to clean up the mess.

Then, she walks into another operating room to take over, asking for the status of the patient before telling the doctor that she can take over.

Four hours later and she’s onto her next patient, a soldier brought in that was assumed dead back at the attack site.

Time of death, 3:27 AM.

The next soldier is lucky enough to be alive, and Akiko operates for 11 hours with another doctor.

Akiko gives more orders and Sumi finds herself rushing to town for more bandages and gauze. Aoi is told to mix wisteria essence with water and ginger to give to patient seven. A cardio thoracic surgeon is called in and both Kiyo and Naho are ordered to help the doctor in room five.

Two soldiers are brought in.

Time of death, 2:51 PM.

Akiko works on the next patient for four hours before announcing time of death, 7:43 PM.

By the end of the four days of hell, Akiko has six deaths on her hands, two that need to be closely monitored, and the rest sleeping on the beds in the medical wards.

Akiko falls asleep by the bedside of a random soldier, her mind and body hitting the brakes and exhaustion falling onto her like a bear.

And still, she smiles, because she dealt no harm.

its been 2 weeks since i started murder of one!! fat thank you to every thats hanging in and continuing to read this :,,)

timeline wise, tanjirou has completed his own training (like akiko) and theyre both testing. i lowkey mention this by mentioning kanao’s own final selection taking and i hope yall caught onto that :,,)

I PROMISE TANJIROU WILL BE PUT IN AND THINGS WILL HAPPEN

and when they do,,,, :))))

#bittle's murder of one #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #tanjiro #kamado tanjirou #tanjirou #tanjirou kamado #kny

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evien-stark · 5 years

Text

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 24 [53%]

Maybe Tony was right.

You were thinking this as you watched the clouds go by, sitting comfortably on the private jet. Maybe Tony was right. Because he was trying to tell you something. He was trying to tell you something important. And the only thing that you were arriving at, with no help from him otherwise, is that the company needed help, and he thought you were capable. That he also needed help. And that maybe business and personal should no longer be mixing.

That had to be it, right?

Right?

You couldn’t date a man whose company you were also supposed to be running. Whose company was now half yours. Rather that you shouldn’t be dating that man. Maybe that was why he’d been trying to get out? And you’d told him no. No because it had been unfair to load it all on you. And if that was the case, why not just say that so the two of you could work it out?

Or maybe it was Iron Man. Maybe he was worried about that, although things had been quiet ever since he had cut back on taking the suit out for missions, you still didn’t want to think about. At least he had stuck to his word on that one.

Natalie Rushman was already in Monaco, making sure all the arrangements were set. At this point you had no idea who was running your life anymore. Much like you had no idea who Natalie was really working for. It had been good while it had lasted, but at the end of the day, if Tony wanted her, he could have her. There was no way to stop him, and nice as she was, if Tony Stark said I need you to be my personal assistant most people would be fool to turn it down.

Once upon a time you had been in much the same position…

And you were trying valiantly to not let that blind you. Tony was a good man. He had made so many changes. And you didn’t doubt his love for you.

Even if in these past few months…

It felt like the two of you were merely existing next to one another. So when something like this happened… it made you feel weak. Helpless. Frightened of the next day. What might come of it.

He sat down across from you and finally you couldn’t help yourself, “Did I do something wrong?” Such a childish thing to ask. But there you were.

A look of quiet confusion took him. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I must have- for you to be acting the way that you are.” Though you’d thought about having this conversation only a few times, it had not started like this in your head. Much like all your plans, not far off the ground before something different happened.

“Acting how?” He brought one leg up over the other, arms crossed as he leaned back in his seat.

You shook your head, breath of annoyed yet amused air escaping with a bitter smile. “I swear, it’s like I’m living in a time loop. We’re just doing the same thing over and over again.”

“...are you mad about Natalie? I’m doing you a favor.”

The raise of your brows and the inhale shocked even you. When had you become so volatile? Maybe dramatic was more the word. There was a shake of an angry chuckle in the first word. “Me? What the hell are you talking about?”

“She was gonna blow our cover.”

“No thanks to you!”

“So I’m fixing it!”

There were only so many interns you could fire or stories you could kill. This couldn’t be a secret forever, that was true. “By- by ogling her every chance you get and hiring her for yourself behind my back?”

“To make it look like I don’t care what you think.”

“It sure as hell feels that way.”

“Then I’m doing it right.” Said so stiffly that for a moment you imagined it was true. Was he mad at you? Impossible. Unbelievable. Your head whipped to the side, lips pressed together. Unable to look at him anymore. The silence was tense until you felt the touch of his hand on your knee. Still, you didn’t look. “I’m trying to protect you.” But this nearly threatened to break you with how gentle he spoke it. “I know you’re in the middle of-” A sigh of self realization. “...a lot of shit I’m putting you through. So I’m trying to clean it up.”

Another dismissive shake of your head. “You can’t do that anymore, Tony. Not like that. You have to talk to me- otherwise what was- what’s the point of this? Of us?” Steeling yourself for what you’d find there, you turned to look at him again.

He looked crushed. Yet determined somehow. “I know I keep saying I’ll get better at this- and then I...”

“You don’t?”

A small swallow, eyes going downcast. “I… I’m...”

Panic-

No… resignation…

You waited. He was trying to tell you something.

“...I’m sorry.”

Was that what you were waiting for? “How many times are you going to tell me that until it becomes true?”

Looking back up again he seemed a little more put together than just seconds ago. “It’s true every time.”

“If it was true you wouldn’t have to keep saying it.”

A long, long sigh began to leave him as he sat back again until he eventually started nodding. “You’re right. ...we really are doing a Groundhog’s Day thing here aren’t we?”

A resigned smile came to your lips. “Five steps forward, ten steps back.”

Things felt a little more right. As they usually did when you had the big reset. The question of if you wanted to keep doing this was there. Barely. You tried to ignore it. Tony was trying. He was always trying. But when was it going to be clear that it was not enough? Was it alright to live second best in his life? Could you handle that? It seemed like that was the path you were headed down.

“Are your headaches getting any better?”

A flash of tears caught you completely by surprise. Your voice was small. “...you know about that?” You couldn’t remember ever mentioning it to him. Not once. Determined to deal with it alone because he was off in a different world half the time. And they were just headaches, after all. Not a big deal. Not worth bothering him over.

He gave you a look. “You can barely sit down most days without looking like you’re in pain or putting a hand on your head. Or excusing yourself.” Of course I know. Because I love you. How could I not see you suffering?

And there you were, yet again. Hot off an argument that had resolved moderately, only to be struck by him. “They’re tolerable, most days. I think they’re getting better.”

“JARVIS has a list of specialists for you, when you have the time.”

Which meant Tony had pulled them for you. At least given the request. The glance you gave him was much softer this time around. “You ever consider they might be stress headaches?”

A tired twitch of a grin in return. “Briefly.”

Finally feeling a little better- and look at that, headache free- you moved over to lift the arm rest between the long plush seats so you could sit next to him. His arm went around you, and you rested your head against him, hand raising to that spot, just half over the Arc, half over his heart.

If only you could stay like that.

-----------------------------------------------------------

The drive from the airstrip to the promenade near the start of the track was quick and uninterrupted. Though there was a shiny red suitcase sitting firm on the front seat. You chose to ignore it. Security measures, you supposed. He must have figured out what the bug was on the delivery system after all. You’d stopped asking while drowning in other paperwork.

Did it make you feel safer to know he’d brought Iron Man here?

Not really.

Because in order to even think about why that would make you feel safe, that meant you had to entertain thoughts that would justify it being here anyway. And so…

Tony flashed a peace sign to the surrounding crowd as security escorted you through the front doors of the resort. The cool air was nice. “Mr. Stark.”

“Natalie.” It killed you a lot less than it had previously, the look of happy-to-see-you on his face.

“Ms.-”

“Natalie.” Your smile by comparison was tired as you cut her off. Not trying to be rude. Just… just very tired. It would be nice to sit and sip some cocktails and watch the race. Take a few soft questions about the Stark Industries driver. Let Tony talk about the specs on the car.

Just as you’d taken a drink, Natalie took it right away, putting it back on the tray it came from. “We have one photographer from the ACM if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

Tony put his arm around you. “Liven up, will you? People are gonna think I dragged you here.”

“Didn’t you?” Asking through a toothy overexertion of a smile as a few flashes went off in your face. The two of you fake laughed your way through three more bulb flashes and then he was stepping into line with Natalie.

“You look fantastic.” To be fair, she did. Red hair just perfect in styled waves and a gorgeous pink dress that was… well… “But that’s unprofessional. What’s on the docket?”

Gratefully you picked your drink back up from the server who had come around with it as they continued talking. Courtesy of Tony’s new PA, you assumed. No one would dare try to drug you underhandedly here among all the boozy rich people bumping elbows-

“Is this us?” Tony asked her as he pointed at a corner table.

“Uh… it can be.”

“Great. Make it us.” Demanding very quickly and then leaving her behind to do the dirty work.

You took his cue to follow. Down the length of the room and over to the bar where you contemplated very strongly already ordering another drink. It was like you’d turned into him. A gentleman all in white stood to catch your attention, hand outstretched with a sweet call of your name. You returned the favor. “Mr. Musk. Nice to see you.”

“Congratulations on your promotion. It’s all anyone can talk about.”

“I’ll bet.” Coming here was a mistake so soon once the information had finally been released after the finalization. Everyone was going to be up your butt trying to cull favor. Less than ideal.

Tony took the heat off you by reaching in for a shake next, “Hey, how’s it going- you know, those Merlin Engines are fantastic.”

Elon had the good sense to blush. “Thank you very much, Mr. Stark. You know… I have an idea for an electric jet...”

“Really? That’s great. We’ll make it work.” Nudging you briefly to the next destination as soon as he was in the hot seat. The bar was getting closer. “How much stock we got in SpaceX?”

You batted your eyelashes at him as you took a seat. “How much would you like?”

“That’s why I love you.” A benign statement amongst all the ears listening, to be sure. One you very much wanted to read into. So you did.

But your smile evaporated into dust all in the next moment. “Anthony…is that you?”

Tony’s expression looked about on par with what you were feeling, “My least favorite person on earth is approaching.”

“You and me both.” Turning half away to set your drink down and call the bartender over. How long had it been? One minute? You needed a refresher.

Justin Hammer just let himself right on in between the two of you as Tony let out the weakest hello you think you’d ever heard in your life. “You’re not the only rich guy here with a fancy car.”

“Wouldn’t be much of an event if he was, would it?” Looking up you smiled at him, really putting the disdain on heavy.

Tony held a finger up. “I’d like to disagree.”

Pleased, mildly, when Justin inched back. “Ah- didn’t see you there… no uh- no hard feelings about what happened on Capitol Hill right?” As if he’d been the one in control of that situation and embarrassed you. “Uh- hey look!” Quickly sidestepping, “I think- I think you know Christine Everhart from Vanity Fair? You guys know each other?”

You needed to leave. This was getting out of hand. Next thing you knew, Justin was going to pull Senator Stern out of his pocket for good measure. Christine came over at his behest, wearing the same overly polite but telling smile as you were. “Yes, we do.”

“Roughly.” Tony seemed like he also needed a means of escape.

Justin pointed a finger at you, “B-T-W, huge story. This little lady’s made quite a name for herself assuming half of the control of Stark Industries. Congratulations.”

“CEO- uh, is her official title.” It was warming that Tony was stepping up for you. Not that you needed it. But still nice.

“I know, I know.” Christine was going on. “And my editor will just kill me if I don’t grab a quote for our Powerful Women issue.”

Much as you didn’t really want to, it was good free marketing. So long as she didn’t take you out of context. You’d have to be careful. No more booze. Damn it. “Sure, that sounds great.”

“She’s- she’s actually doing a big spread on me for Vanity Fair, aren’t you?” Justin contesting to keep in the spotlight and keep control like the little child he was.

“I am. I am.” Even she sounded tired. That seemed normal. You wouldn’t wish Justin Hammer on your worst enemies.

Tony’s eyes rolled up and then closed, just shaking his head and then directing a thousand yard stare to the left. Bored with this. You could tell. You could feel it. Also maybe slightly embarrassed for Justin, if that were possible. You couldn’t let him zone out and leave you here to fend for yourself. “I remember she did that huge spread on Tony last year for the New Year’s piece-”

“She did a story, as well.” Ah. There he was. Back on cue.

Even if you wanted to elbow him in the ribs, the look of discomfort on both their faces was somewhat amusing. Maybe worth it. “Yes- I did...” Justin’s head whipped to look at her.

“It was a very good piece. I loved it.” At least trying to help the poor girl out.

“Thank you...”

Deciding very quickly you couldn’t stand this anymore, “I’m going to go splash some water on my face before the race starts.” Photographers would be everywhere near the boxes. It was better to not look like a ghoul.

He half grabbed your arm, voice low. “Don’t leave me.”

“You’re a big boy.”

Christine’s recorder was out of her purse and that was absolutely your exit sign so you just gave him a light pat on the shoulder and turned to go. Immediately she was hounding him with questions. You felt slightly bad, you probably shouldn’t have just walked away. But standing there with the two of them any longer and you were liable to give them a real story to talk about.

The bathroom seemed so far away but it was blissfully empty as you walked inside. An overdecorated sham, probably like a lot of these people’s houses. It almost threatened a brand new headache on you. Despite using it as an excuse to run, you really did take a moment to actually splash some cool water on your face and retouch your makeup.

The last thing you needed as new co-CEO of Stark Industries was to be made a fool out of on your first outing. You were here as a representative of your company. What little delight you had in that. You wouldn’t make a fool of Tony. Because if you did a poor job, it would still fall on him for putting you in that position in the first place.

You let yourself hang back for a few moments more, enjoying the bliss that was the only quiet you were going to have. Once you went back out it was vulture city. Fighting off handshakes and photo ops aplenty.

When it came to an end, you went to the corner table Tony had procured, noticing immediately he was nowhere in sight. Maybe he’d taken off too? Would have been smart. And even as strong as he was, he wouldn’t have been able to survive the dynamic duo of Justin and Christine for very long. A waiter came around to set a drink in front of you, something you sipped at mindlessly.

As she passed by, doing who knew what, “Natalie, where is Tony?”

She gave you a blank look. “Oh- ...I don’t know. Let me see if I can find him for you.”

The cars zoomed by on the racetrack closest to the hotel, only feeling their presence in the rattle of the windows. Looking at your drink you pushed it away. No time to get sloppy, and if you were already feeling this foggy, it didn’t bode well. However, the feeling that something was terribly wrong was creeping up. You tried to bite it back, chalking it up to anxiety, but a sudden stunned gasp from the crowd drew your attention to the TV at the top of the bar. They were beginning to huddle.

You found yourself standing quickly, purse on the table, clutching your hands as you looked up at the horror. Someone had stepped out onto the track- a pit crew member? Why would they do that? He threw his helmet off, hard to see his face on the TV camera. Cars whizzed by. He seemed unbothered.

Ripping his track jacket open you felt yourself gasp for air.

No.

The fabric burned away as he extracted what looked like two long whips- electrified.

And powered by-

No, no, no.

Tony- you had to- where was Tony?

Somebody was waving in your peripheral and you half turned to see Happy, Mark V armor suitcase in hand. Happy knew where to go? Happy knew where to go. Wordlessly and quickly you followed him, head down as the people inside screamed and you heard the shred of metal.

“Where is he?” Trying to even out. Tony- Iron Man would fix this. How could Tony have known?

“Tony’s on the track!!”

As if today wasn’t already terrible enough. “Why is he on the track!?” Who let him do that? ...because you’d left? Why wouldn’t he tell you he was- after just hours before… “Why is he on the track!” Directing your anger because you had nowhere else to put it.

“I don’t know! They were talking about him- entering the race-” Happy was driving like a wild person, slamming past a fence barrier headed the wrong way on the track. “I thought you knew!”

“Why would I know about that?!” Did that sound like something you’d sanction? Unbelievable. Unbelievable- but if Tony was in a car- “You have to hurry-”

“I’M HURRYING!”

Cars were racing by you, Happy swerving to avoid them. People were screaming. The announcers were yelling. Chaos. Complete and utter chaos. How had this happened? Why?

There was a burst of an explosion just up ahead- Happy curved around the track so hard you slammed into the door, briefcase heavy in your lap. It was hard to see anything- so much smoke- but you saw the man with weapons. Whatever he was harnessed into- that rig-

“I’m gonna hit him- I’m gonna hit him-!” “Happy!”

Tony was standing right there- not five feet in the path of this lunatic- but the deed was already done. You slammed forward as the car plowed into the guy, unable to help a scream from escaping. When you looked up, Tony was jumping down from the track fence. There was a body on the hood.

“Are you okay?!” Happy was shouting.

“Were you heading for him or me?! Because I can’t tell!” Tony was yelling back.

Why not add your own voice, unable to help it as he came to your door. “What the fuck is the matter with you?!”

“We need better security-!”

“WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?!” Your emotions were running wild- influenced by just about every other person there. A storm was brewing. You were out of control.

“I WAS ATTACKED!” It became a shouting match.

Happy was next. “Will you please GET IN THE CAR!” Everyone was getting in on it.

Tony came around the other side, opening the door, but you saw the creep of the man on the hood sitting up, and then covered yourself, arms up, as he lashed that whip, slicing half the door off. All at once you were moving again as Happy backed the car up only a couple of feet and rammed him again.

“Hit him again- give me the case!” Tony seemed not to know what to make of things-

Happy kept moving back and forth back and forth doing almost nothing at this distance, this speed- the whip came down again. Helpless. You were absolutely helpless-

“I need you to give me the case!��

Electricity crackled as that line came down again, taking a quarter of the car with it this time, leaving glass shattered on the seats- on your skin- and hot metal coming down. Another lash, sparks were everywhere. Tony was shouting for your attention. Finally you came to. “Here- here-!” Finding some sense and some feeling in your arms again, getting them to move as you threw the case as hard as you could to him.

It was quick- the step on the open lever and then reaching down to pull the handles, activating the locks on the suit to fold up and out, covering him entirely. An impressive thing- if you weren’t currently about to die. The helmet slid on and he moved to push the car several feet away with no problem.

Even then you couldn’t catch your breath-

Tony raised a hand to shoot but was whipped immediately to the side. One more time- and another- hearing the shots charge and fire only to be smacked away by those electric whips.

A final raise of his hand and the deranged man reared back, snapping the cable forward to catch hold of Tony’s arm- then the other cable around his neck and yanked him off his feet forward and then slammed him into the ground. Then threw him around again like a little ragdoll, sending him down against the hood of the car and to the ground once more.

Your heart seized.

And then you moved.

“Hey- hey hey hey- HEY!”

You had no idea what you were doing but you were out of the car. A snap of a whip away. Close to death. Hands outstretched.

“HEY!!” Shaking from head to toe as you screamed at him. “Look at me- listen to me!! You- you don’t wanna do this!” Briefly, very briefly, the man’s head tilted sideways to look at you, a laugh was not far behind. Fair, considering you were way out of your element here. “Listen-” And then you urged it forward. Everything you had. Everything you could give. “This isn’t what you wanna do- don’t you- hear people screaming? Don’t you feel guilty? Don’t you feel wrong?”

In him there was but a bare moment of thought. A twitch of his eye. A tilt of his head. Consideration.

Confusion.

One second, maybe two.

About as long as you held out-

It was Tony gathering up the slack of the whips despite the discharge, wrapping his arms around them and jerking the man off his feet, launching him into the air and then down hard on his back. With that a breath escaped you and you felt your knees give out, reaching back to the car to keep from falling on shattered glass and broken roadway. You heard the cut of electricity and looked up to see Tony pulling the power source off his chest. Examining it…

“Hey- hey sit down, will you? Sit for a minute- You don’t look well- just breathe-” Happy was saying a million things to you.

You saw it there as Tony turned to look at you. The police were hauling the crazy man away as he laughed. “You lose! You lose…!”

The world went dark around the edges. You kept watching Tony.

In his hand he crushed an Arc Reactor.

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter Twenty Four

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kainfamilyfortune · 4 years

Text

Thea - Journal Entries #19-21

“All that are worthy of taking the steps to repentance shall be cleansed of sin, doubt, and most importantly set upon a new path. These steps are never to be taken lightly. Nigh, you must come to me with grace and certainty that this path is without any shred of doubt, yours alone.

The journey will be long, possibly encompassing between the veils of both life and death - you must have perseverance to allow me to guide you. For if you are to be cleansed, allowing the Light within to permeate all that you are and all that you ever will be, you must be willing to trust what sometimes may never be trusted. Forgive the damned. Love those who have never known such emotions.

Your path lays before you. Only now, you have met me. Let go of thy fears, and take my hand. I will guide you home.”

- Unknown, ext. Azerothian Lightbringer pg. 3

19. Home

Pa sat in his musty worn chair basking in the warmth of the fireplace when I entered through the tiny back garden door. It was late, I had just finished the ending council meetings and debriefings from the front line in Stormwind keep. Pye had given me a glowing recommendation to our king, Anduin Wrynn, who smiled at me as he crossed the long distance between his throne and where I knelt before him. “Rise, Ms. Kain. Although we face casualties, you and your team have given us hope that this war could soon end. We need people like you, but you must be rested and healed. You-your foot, how bad is it?” I winced slightly as I rose to be face to face with my king. “The on-board medical staff reset it... after I reset it in the field, it’s at least broken in three places, my King.” He winced in sympathy towards my condition, before slowly turning away and heading back to his seat. “Ms. Kain, I’m appointing you to take at least four weeks off for you to heal. Do with what you want that time, but I will require your assistance for upcoming deployments in the future, Commander.” He said the last line with a smile, Pye even joined in the praise as he lent his arm as a crutch for support.

I snapped out of the memory looking towards my father in the dim firelight. Sound asleep, with a glass of lambic still half full. I sat in my chair next to his, setting the wooden cane Pruet had gifted me as we got ashore on the small wooden end stand between Pa and I, taking off my glove and nimbly unknotting his fingers around the glass. He snorted and began to lull back, as I stifled a laugh in my chest. I took the remainder of the glass in one swig and leaned forward admiring the flames, setting the empty glass on the table and grabbing the fire poker and stirring the embers, flipping a new log atop. Although spring was quickly approaching, winter winds still pressed upon our fair capitol.

I leaned back, slowly taking my boots off, then my pauldrons, and finally my chainmail chest-guard. The soggy bandages with sweat and blood needed to be changed and I desperately needed to bathe, but that could wait until morning. Before getting too lost in the fire I grabbed the glass and got up, leaning on the back of my chair for support and walked over to our kitchen, pouring myself more of the lambic. I tilted the small pony keg to get the last remnants of the contents in my glass. I would surely need to pay a visit to the Pig and Whistle to have them deliver another. Maybe two. I had quite a bit of money now from the recent deployment, along with a bonus because of the new promotion so that was nice. I limped back over with the full cup to my chair, nursing the glass over many hours as I reflected on the events of the battle we had won. King Rastakhan was dead, and although Jaina had been dealt with a near fatal Horde counter offensive, she had made it out by the skin of her teeth. We had dealt a wound to the Horde that they surely would not recover from so easily.

I awoke with a stiff neck and the smell of eggs and the sound of bacon frying in a pan, the first of morning light cascading into the our dusty little hovel in Old Town. I raised my eyebrows attempting to open my eyes fully, rubbing them so they could focus a bit better. “When did you get home last night, didn’t even hear you come in!” Pa gleefully pronounced as he set the plate of breakfast before me. I smiled, “Thank you Pa. I uhh-I came home pretty late, must have been past twelve-bells. I didn’t want to wake you.” He laughed, placing a plate of his own on the end stand. “Well now I’ve got you to thank for for the crick in my neck. But I guess that’s nothing compared to what you must have been through! Fresh bandages are in the wash room, I went ahead and started to draw you a bath, you stink like a sailor, and look like you haven’t bathed in a month!” He laughed shoveling his food into his mouth, dripping egg into his shaggy unkempt beard.

“Gee, thanks Pa.” I said a little condescendingly, before jesting with him, honestly happy to see that I made it out alive to be here, sharing this moment with him. “I umm-I haven’t bathed since Kul Tiras. So yeah, no wonder.” I began eating my breakfast, not realizing how hungry I was, before too long we had finished and Arthur went to the wash room to cut off the water, coming back out with fresh linens, trading it with my now empty plate. “Pa.” I said with a soft tone. “Thea?” He replied, holding both plates heading towards the sink. “I-I’m glad to be home. The things I saw... I really didn’t know if I was-” He cut me off, setting the plates down atop the pile of dishes on the sink and embraced me. “I... I didn’t know if you’d come back. After reading your letter, I started to procure arrangements with Father Fortea. I cried for two days, thinking I was going to lose my daughter to this war. When I awoke this morning to find you by my side... Thea. I’m so happy. So happy that you are home.” Tears began to streak on my cheeks, as I embraced my father, the only waves of emotions I’ve let out in front of him since Dustin was killed in action.

He wiped the tears away from my now laden cheeks, “Bath is waiting, get in before it get’s cold. I... I have news as well regarding your letter, once you’re washed up.After that I’ll have you run into town, if you’re up for it?” I nodded before he helped me up from the chair and then walked me over to the wash room. I shut the door and took off the remainder of chainmail leggings and then my undergarments and soiled bandages. I dipped my toes into the water gauging the temperature, steam gently wafting around me as I entered. Blood began to rise to the surface after I had submerged myself. I poured a little extra soap into the tub. Suds began to form as I gently appraised the wounds that had already begun healing up. Luckily not too many stitches were needed when we had retreated to safety of the ship. A week had passed and the wounds have already closed up around my hand and leg, so I began the slow process of taking out the excess stitch-work.

An hour had passed, scrubbing every inch of dirt and grime out of my pores. The medical staff only had cleaned around my wounds so I wouldn’t get any infections, so the rest of my body was filthy. My pruned fingers and toes meant that is was time to get out. I lifted myself up, pulling the plug for the drain on my way out as I grasped the towel my father had given to me, wrapping it around myself. I watched the combination of dirt and encrusted blood slowly filter out into the drain along with a few auburn red hairs.

After carefully and slowly ascending the narrow steps to my room I looked at myself for the first time in what seemed like an age in my full length mirror, admiring each of my wounds with hyper focus. I never really disliked my body, but never praised it either. I never tried to feel pretty or embrace myself in lavish or revealing clothes. I always considered myself plain, average. My scars always stopped me from feeling like I was beautiful, but I recognized that I’ve been stared at in the past. I never admired my curves. I never saw my dimples. I never embraced my soft skin. My armor was like a second skin to me now. Only showing my title, and not my own expression. I feel like today, I’ll wear something nice. A tan sundress, with orange lilies. Yeah. I like this.

As I walked down the steps, I could peer through our tiny side window to the back of the abode, Pa was pruning and weeding the small garden, adorned with his dilapidated straw hat. It was closely approaching mid-day, grabbing my new cane and walked out the back door and my father gave me a bright smile, “Thea, you look lovely. Here,” He gestured towards the chairs in the garden, wiping the sweat and fresh soil off his brow, his expression turned much more serious, worried. “Tell me about your dream.”

20. Collective

I recalled everything, every detail of the encampment, how the two brothers acted, as well as the death of Andrew’s brother, Silas. He nodded, his face becoming more troubled. He got up out of his bench seat, pulling up the lid and pulling out a very worn tome, he dusted his hands and opened it, lifting his eyes to glance upon me and then back to the book as he filtered through the pages, before stopping and lifting a finger to point upon a singular passage as he recited, “Andrew Cordovo Kain, first of his name, son of Jules Derek Kast, and Ingrid Bell Kast, who took on his mother’s maiden name after Jules had past of the first reported case of Tyr’s Disease. When Andrew began to show signs of the disease himself, his devoted brother...” He paused, before saying aside, “The name, it’s redacted.” I looked to him, slightly defeated, but I nodded for him to continue, “Second of his name, and acting, but not appointed, High Priest of the Arathor city-state gave his life to save his brother, and succeeded. Nothing else is known of this day. Andrew went on to lead the citizens of Arathor to Alterac, Dalaran, and finally Stormwind. After years of conquest, and aid in the formation of the church of holy light, he passed away peacefully at the age of 63. Succeeded by his wife, Maria Nicole Kain, and their four children...” He stopped, looking up to me, “You believe that his brother, his name was Silas?”

I looked out to the garden not wanting to meet his gaze, but I nodded, “I’m... I’m almost certain. Unless I’m... I’m just going crazy. But...” I had a thought, possibly a way to know for sure, “The church, they... they must keep records of who was in their ranks, even from the beginning, and not just in Stormwind, but everywhere.” Arthur looked to me with a mild surprise, “Yes, yes, I would assume that they archive them, Arathor was a millennia ago, but they must have had records. The... The only issue is that, even if our personal family records are redacted, then it’s highly likely that the public ones would be so as well. But I’ll ask around. Is there anything else?” He looked to me with the same worried look in his eyes, the only thing I left out was the voice, the voice that made the deal with Silas, it chilled every fiber of my being thinking back to it, as if she was looking at me now. “No. Th-That was all, thank you Pa. You didn’t have to-” He shushed me, “I insist. Now get Cordon to help you with those kegs when you go into town, okay?” I smiled to him and nodded.

“Okay.” I said, as we both got up and he hugged me gently. My tan sundress flowing in the wind as I opened the gates out of the gardens, and into the cobble stone streets of the bustling capitol.

21. Road to Ruin

I went to bed early, no more past seven bells, slightly drunk from the two glasses of Bradensbrook Gorse that was gifted from Cordon after a long chat of goings’ on in the rest of the world. As I laid my head down to rest finally, I began to dream again.

The rush of a waterfall and the sound of rain greeted me as I opened my eyes laying witness to a damp field of grass and mud before the pond with the sheer rock face climbing to the higher reaches of grey sky. As I rolled upon my back I watched the rolling clouds whisper distant thundering tales to one another. Lightning bolted between them in anger. I sat up slowly, soaked and decided to limp over towards the pathway adjacent to the cascading falls of the pond.

As I walked the path, the loose cobblestones made my broken leg, shattered foot, shoot in sharp pains. I wanted to stop, but I needed to find respite. I was compelled to continue forward. My hips ached, to compensate for the poor weight distribution to continue up the small hill and I crested I was greeted by another larger hill. Light help me.

I stood there a moment waiting an answer, an answer that would never come. So I bit my lower lip and grunted down the hill and persevered through the next more daunting hill, soaked in a downpour that was only getting worse by the minute. My muscles flared in anguish as I reached the top of the path and I collapsed to my knees as I was met with a third, even larger hill.

I touched my leg with the open palm attempting to channel the healing energies I have known all throughout my life but I was empty. My connection, broken. I could feel anxiety welling into my throat, burning with an abhorrent acidity. I would surely die a peaceful death upon this lonely road. I winced, groaning and muttering curses as I got up, leaning upon a nearby post for support. Dusk was quickly approaching and I needed shelter. I needed rest.

My thoughts drifted, trying to block out the fire I was feeling all over my wounded body, drifted towards the unknown, what if this series of hills never ends, only becoming larger and larger, forever? That could not be, I was close. So very close. “Aghhhh!” I had to scream aloud, as I felt the shattered foot splinter more from the weight of the burden I was carrying. Rest. You need rest.

I fell to my knees before cresting the hill, tears of agonizing pain dripping down my face. One by one I gripped the stones, crawling up the remainder of this hill that would never end, inching my way one step closer, my breathing became rapid, the elevation of these trails leaving me catching every last bit of oxygen.

I looked upon the summit and saw hope. A hut of architecture that was familiar, I just could not place where I had seen it before. The lantern lit interior was warm and welcome as I clutched upon the next banister at the top of the hill. The sloped roof cascaded the dripping of the shower as thunder began to roll ominously in the distance. I continued pushing forward, down the path.

My body collapsed in the oval entry way, as I tried to regain my breath from the trial that was before me and there, sitting in the chair facing away at the well worn writing nook was... me, and as the figure shifted, setting down the quill back into the nearby inkwell, she stood to face me. Her straw hat covered her eyes. She wore plain clothes, well equipped for the humidity, and she whispered one word.

“Owl.”

-OOC-

Took a very long break from most social media. So this post has been a bit dusty and long overdo - which I might continue in due time. But other matters have prevented such. Thanks for reading <3

Want to catch up?

Devotions Book I

-Forest

#wra #WRA RP #writing #alliance #roleplay #World of Warcraft

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cvssndra · 5 years

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@downstvged

peyton commandeers his dad's cadillac ct6 for the night: it's the vehicles first out-of-garage debut since last fall. the senior pellegrino has always preferred his official fire department dodge to the sleeker, luxurious cadi. but peyton knows his longboard just won't cut it for tonight, so he sifted through his father's desk until he found the proper keys.

he parks in the street by the pressman house and sits for several minutes. checks his hair in the mirror. straightens and re-straightens his bow tie. he'd been so nervous getting ready that monty had to do the honors for him. his outfit is simple and sleek: a black tux with a gold vest and tie ensemble. his fingers fumble with the corsage's plastic container as he exits the car and tries to calm his racing mind.

soon, he reaches the front step ( and nearly trips over himself on the way ). breathe. then he's ringing the bell and rocking back and forth on his heels, deep eyes scanning the front façade of the house, its numbers, its siding, before landing on his feet. are his shoes too black? too leather? too plain? peyton gulps and resets his stance, holding the corsage behind his back and squaring his shoulders. that door will open soon. any second, it'll swing on its hinges –– and cassandra will be on the other side. his date. peyton holds his breath and waits.

cassandra was having a fight with the mirror, attempting to justify this dress. it was not a dress she would normally even look at but when she’d bought it in the first place, she also hadn’t really been expecting to go. things tended to go wrong for cassandra whenever she looked forward to things. her twelfth birthday party, her middle school graduation, the midnight premiere of harry potter and the deathly hallows part two, and of course her favorite, the school trip into the mountains that landed them here. but here she is, in the dress she bought to make her mother feel better, that she hadn’t really looked at before buying. she was just thrilled it fit. “fine, i’ll wear it. but i hope you feel really dumb if he doesn’t show,” she argued to the mirror. as if the mirror were arguing back, the doorbell rang. she squinted at the mirror angrily.

“allie! allie, can you get that?” she got a loud and angry ‘i’m busy’ in response. with a huff she practically jumped down the steps and ran to the door throwing it open and grabbing it to keep it from hitting the wall. her eyes moved from the door to him, a beaming grin replacing whatever negative energy she’d previously been exuding. “hi,” she practically cooed.

the door whips open and peyton feels all the wind knock out of his chest in one fell swoop. cassandra stands in front of him and he has to blink a few times to ensure he isn't dreaming. when she speaks, his mind finally snaps back into gear –– his lips, which had previously fallen agape, warmed into a bright smile.

" hi, " he greets back, breathlessly. peyton drinks it all in: she practically puts the sun out of business. " you look... " he trails off, searching for a word that can possibly do her justice. " you look amazing. " stunning, he thinks, after it's too late. breathtaking. beautiful. it takes nearly dropping the corsage behind his back for peyton to remember he's holding it. he brings it out into view, casting cassandra a hopeful grin.

" i... i got you this. " white flowers. gold ribbon. the corsage is simple, understated –– he spent half a day mulling over different combinations to find the proper size and arrangement. the result? a subtle piece strung together onto a white pearl bracelet. it wouldn't take away from cassandra's ensemble: not that anything ever could. " it's... uh, white roses, " he says, and kicks himself for it. as if she can't already see that. he recalls what kelly said about the flowers' meaning and peppers it in with a timid smile and a gentle nod toward the arrangement.

" they symbolize um... dignity. nobility. beauty. " honey-hazel eyes lift. his next thought goes unsaid, but it's written all over his face. all things i see in you.

her lips pressed themselves under her teeth when he looked at her. it was too much, it wasn't her. she should change. but then he said she looked amazing and she felt her cheeks warm, betraying her once again. "thanks. so do you! and look-" she gestures between them, "we match." her brain was doing that thing where it forgot how to work in his presence.

her eyes dropped to the corsage and widened. "oh- you didn't have to-" she took it, admiring it in it's original glory before it inevitably got destroyed. "it's beautiful." she ran her finger along the bottom to pop it open and gently removed it from the box. "it's supposed to go on the left hand but i'm left handed so i'm going to put it on the right. hopefully it'll be less damaged that way," she rambled, slipping it on. she admired some more, before looking up. she sucked up all of her courage, leaned forward, and pressed her lips to his cheek. "thank you."

" thank you! i... yeah, we do." peyton dips his head with a light laugh as she points out their matching. without monty and tess's help, he would've surely botched that bit. he's always had a knack for smart dressing, but something about gold had him stumped. tess convinced him to go for this bolder black-and-gold print instead of a standard prom ensemble, and the way cassandra smiles at him? confirms this was the right move.

he watches as cassandra gingerly dons the corsage and it's like the breath gets knocked out of him for the second time. you're beautiful, he thinks in response, and doesn't even realize he's also managed to say it, too. and then she's leaning up and kissing his cheeks and holy shit, it's like... it's like his heart's about to leap out into her hands. peyton's lips pull into a bright smile and his cheeks warm. " i –– of course, thank you, i–– " he allows himself to drink her in again, eyes alight with admiration. someone pinch him. this is real. " should we... " he gestures over his shoulder, toward the car. " should we head over ? "

cassandra looks past him at the car. part of her wants to say screw it and ask him if he wants to just stay here and hang out, not that she would use those specific words of course. she doesn't want to share him tonight, as selfish as that sounds, but she also knows their friends are there, expecting them. she nods, reaching over to grab her bag off the table where she'd left it before changing. she doesn't even bother to lock the door as she pulls it shut behind herself, closing the space between them far more than she's used to. but she is definitely not disappointed at it. "i really dig this bow tie," she grins, as she moves toward the car. "when i was little, i used to put all of the bow ties on the dog. my dad did not appreciate that." it's when they get to the car that she realizes she's not sure she's ever seen peyton drive. "no board tonight?" she teases.

she is... everything. and honestly? if prom wasn’t such a big deal? peyton might suggest they just chill out here, or at his, or just... anywhere, alone. the thought of her being whisked off by friends and other townspeople — it’s part of their reality now, but peyton can’t help but want to resist that social responsibility. as they make their way to the car, he relishes in their proximity.

“ yeah? “ well i dig you, he thinks, and lets it remain unspoken. “ thanks. “ at her story, he can’t help but laugh. “ you’re kidding. that dog must’ve been the best looking in all of town. “ he doesn’t know why, but that little anecdote finds a home in his heart and nests there. it’s a piece of cassandra pressman not many get to see.

“ no, i... i figured you might want to roll up in something a little more stylin’. “ he gestures to his dad’s car with a shrug. “ but hey, if you— if you ever want to hitch a ride sometime, you— you know who to call. “ an easy smile takes hold of his features but his heart hammers fast. peyton reaches out to open the passenger side door for his date — his date! — and steps aside.

“ your chariot awaits, “ he teases. “ a close second to the good old arbor zeppelin, but it’ll do. “ cue a playful wink as he meets cassandra’s gaze. slowly, slowly, he can feel the nerves melt away and roll off his shoulders.

this night was already better than anything she could dream up and she’d spent a lot of time dreaming about it. he was better than a dream as cliche as that sounded. in all the time she’d known him, she’d had a crush on him and there had never been the question of why. to her, it was obvious. and to force herself to keep him at arms length all this time had proved to be far more work than she’d planned. even now, there was a tinge of remorse. she wasn’t permanent, far from it in fact. and he deserved better. but she could have tonight. and for all she knew, he didn’t feel the same way she did. that would make this all a lot easier. her cheeks already hurt from smiling and they haven’t even left yet.

“yes, the bow tie is definitely an a+. definitely ties the look together.” as if she knows anything about fashion. “he was the snazziest dog around, if i say so myself.” as cool as he looked on his board, she was glad he’d gone with car instead. “i don’t know if my first board experience would be very successful in these shoes,” she chuckles.

she places a hand to her chest with a, “why thank you kind sir,” and then slips into the car.

she's a dreamboat. and she doesn't even know it. as they walk to peyton's car, cassandra glows beneath the setting sun, and all peyton can do is stare and hope, hope, hope she doesn't notice. he laughs at her pun: she's clever, and it's one of the many reasons he's coveted this crush for so long.

" you'd be surprised. i bet you'd look bad ass boarding in those heels. the x games wouldn't even know what hit 'em. " peyton bows like an eighteenth century butler meets concierge, and the move's a bit goofy on him–– but it fits their hollywood throwback car scene. once she's inside, he gingerly shuts the passenger door and crosses over to let himself in. ( he's not blushing. he's not blushing. he's not–– ) nimble fingers turn the key in the ignition and he glances over before putting the car into gear, hand hovering over the console.

" all buckled up ? " his face is going to split apart, he's grinning so hard. never mind the fact that he just sounded like an overprotective mom: he's too overjoyed to care.

was it hot or was it just him? her cheeks were in a permanent state of blush and it wouldn't go away. "you'll have to teach me one of these days." she was so distracted by him that she hadn't put her seatbelt on. it reminded her of the only time she didn't put a seatbelt on. it had been after a stint in the hospital and it had put her in a bit of a depression. her mother had told her to put her seat belt on and she'd mumbled ‘what's the point?’ she thought about that now as he checked on her. he was the point.

her hand reached up and pulled her seat belt down. "yup." she got quiet for a minute or two. she'd managed to get this far without saying something completely ridiculous and hoped to keep it up. can't say something stupid if you don't speak, right? but she wanted him to speak, she loved hearing him speak. so she leaned her elbow on the middle armrest and leaned her chin in her palm. "tell me something."

at her confirmation, they begin the drive: and oh jeez, does peyton have to fight not to tear his eyes off the road to look at her instead. it's stupid, but he wants to make sure she thinks he's a good driver–– that he's a good, well, everything. he wants to make her feel comfortable. safe. and part of that is, like... not totaling his dad's nice car. so he uses his blinkers like he's taking the license test again, and abides by the speed limit, even though no one's around to be the wiser.

peyton spares cassandra a glance as they roll up to a stop sign and wishes retina-cameras weren't just things talked about in sci-fi movies. because if he could snap a picture of this moment... he'd cherish it forever. with her arm on the console and her chin propped in her hand, cassandra looks like... cassandra. for peyton, there's... there's no suitable comparison. he's no poet. but he knows when beauty defies description.

" something, " he calls back with a playful wink, lips already forming a wide, cheesy grin as he returns his eyes to the road. a beat passes before he actually latches on to something remotely interesting to talk about: maybe some boarding stats? a cool history fact?

" you've got a beautiful smile, " he murmurs. he doesn't even register the slip-up for a moment, but then he's opening his mouth and clamping it shut like he's just... like he's just divulged federal secrets, and she might kick him out of his own car. but monty schooled him on this before. if you say something stupid, just commit to it. don't do your stupid fish out of water thing. so he doesn't. he just... runs with it.

" like... even right there. right now. that's... that's awesome. " eloquently done. nice. idiot. peyton times his breathing and re-situates his grip on the wheel. now is not the time to start spinning out.

she nearly chokes at the statement and starts to cough instead. she covers her mouth and mumbles a "thank you" from behind it. when she finally stops choking, she uncovers her mouth and is grinning again. "that's not what i meant but i'll take it." they were very close to prom and soon she was going to have to share him. there were a lot of things she wanted to say to him but all that came out was, "so do you."

she bites her cheek. it wasn't a compliment, and after that comment, he deserved one. it was a bold statement and he deserved as much. "i- like you.... a lot." she covered her face. "i'm sorry."

peyton stops breathing. " oh. " so do you. he's thankful nobody else is on the road, because his vision nearly shorts for a second. cassandra... thinks his smile is... beautiful ? jesus. it takes absolute will-power to keep from pulling over and asking if they can just... skip the dance and throw their own prom themselves.

he takes the final right turn onto the venue's street. he's about to say thank you, when the compliment finally processes, but then–– oh! peyton's cheeks flush bright, only rivaled by his grin. " holy shit, " he breathes, barely audible. " no, don't, i–– " they finally reach the parking lot, and peyton's never done a speedier parking job in his life. once the car's tossed into the correct gear, he turns to cassandra, only to find her face covered.

" hey, " he prods, unclicking his seatbelt and leaning against the center armrest. " don't be sorry. " a beat. he's saying this. " i really like you, too. "

cassandra uncovers her face very slowly when he tells her not to be sorry. and then he says he likes her too. the thought... the idea... it's baffling. she can feel her mouth hanging open like a goldfish and quickly closes it. she fears he wouldn't if he knew the truth but she decides she can't think like that, she likes him too much to worry about that right now. she needs to push the thought out of her head, she needs to focus on him. so she takes a deep breath and leans forward, pressing her lips against his for a moment before pulling away.

her lips meet his and peyton might as well have been stuck by a stun gun. his eyes widen and before he can even internalize the moment she's pulling away, and he's following, chasing her lips again once he finally gets it. the secondary kiss is quick, too, and light, and after a few seconds he pulls back. his eyebrows lift and he's about to apologize for taking more than what he's given, but what comes out is a breathless chuckle. " i... "

thisisreallife. this. is. REAL. LIFE.

" i–– " he gushes, face alight with wonder. " i had no idea. "

he comes in for another kiss and she's ecstatic. it means he wanted it too and she is relieved to say the least. "no idea?! and here i thought i was extremely obvious." now that she's done it once, it feels like a drug. she wants, no needs to do it again. this time she puts her hands on his cheeks first and adds a little more umpf into the next kiss.

" wh- extremely obvious? " before peyton can launch into an explanation of how extremely not obvious she's been, she swoops in for another kiss and boy, he's not about to complain. his eyes close and he meets her force with equal enthusiasm. his hands migrate to her shoulders, and one trails up to rest just below her jawline. he wants the world to stop. their lips only part when his lungs can't stretch longer without air –– but they scream to breathe her in, instead. peyton rests his forehead against cassandra's, speechless. " ...holy crap, " he breathes. dark lashes flutter open and deep brown eyes drink her in: he couldn't look away if he tried. feather light fingertips brush a strand of blonde out of her eyes. and then his lips bloom into a dazed smile. " hi. "

she is beaming. there is no other word for it. she has been waiting years for this. “hi,” she hums back. time feels like it’s crawling and she is one hundred percent okay with that. “we should really... go inside,” but she makes no effort whatsoever to move from this spot. as if moving would ruin it, as if they weren’t about to spend the night together at prom. and after too if she had any say in it. “we can... pick this up after? maybe? if you want.”

peyton nods. yeah. they should. is she even aware of how beautiful she is? peyton's hand finds cassandra's jaw and a tender smile warms his lips. " yeah, " he murmurs. " i'd like that. " he dips his head to snatch another gentle kiss, just because he can. his middle school self is singing.

all cassandra can think about is how much better this is in real life than what she'd imagined and how she spent years assuming this feeling was unrequited. she still hasn't moved, as if leaving his touch might cause a natural disaster. as if her life depended on it. if this feeling could fix her heart, she'd be set for life just from these few minutes. "me too." only after he's pulled away again does she take a deep sigh.

"okay, we should probably go in." it's then that she realizes his mouth is now the same shade as hers and she bites her lip to stifle the laugh. "do you- do you have a napkin or something?"

peyton's cheeks ache from smiling but he keeps on grinning, because he can't help it. all of this? it's better than he could have ever dreamed. it makes all those years spent pining totally more than worth it. and to see her feel the same? it's crazy. it's wild. he's gonna need someone to pinch him, hard.

" napkin? " peyton's brow furrows a bit but he pays the item some thought. his dad's always prepared for everything –– disaster kit in the back, some kind of fire retardant in every possible place. " uh... " peyton sifts around the center console before coming up empty. " maybe try that glove compartment ? " it doesn't even dawn on him to ask what it's for. it doesn't matter. if a napkin's what cassandra wants, he'll give her twenty. she's got him wrapped around her finger. then he notices the look she's giving him, and he can't help but smile wider. " what ? "

she opens the glove compartment and finds a stack of paper towels. she only takes the one and closes it back up, turning back to him. "i think you're-" she takes his chin between her fingers, "wearing more lipstick than i am now." she wipes his lips gently with the paper towel. "in a smeared, demented clown kind of way." she manages to get most of it off before turning the paper towel inside out. she reaches up to pull down the sun flap and uses the mirror to remove the remainder of her own smeared mess. "there we go."

peyton's eyebrows lift as cassandra holds his chin, and then he can't help but laugh. " demented clown. how'd you know that's always been my dream? " he's shocked by how easy this is. being with her. after years of nearly panicking just meeting her eye, it... feels amazing. like they didn't just link up. like they've been doing this for a while. " thanks, " he adds as he pockets the car keys and watches her perfect the lipstick they both had a hand in smudging. it brings forth a sense of giddy pride. " so we know we're really good at making messes, huh ? " cue a lopsided smile.

cassandra chucklees when he says that's been his dream, making sure the thought that he's her dream stays in her head. her cheeks warm at the comment about messes. she wasn't very good at those. she wasn't supposed to make messes. but she would rather make messes with him than continue living her boring, non-messy life. you need to tell him her head insisted, but she fought it away. they could have one nice night before she dropped the bombshell that was her fate. she'd only held off this long because she never thought he could like her back but now he did, and it was too late to tell him before that happened. yeah, she'd tell him after prom. or maybe tomorrow. but not now. she grinned over at him. "the faster we go in, the faster we can leave, right?"

she looks amazing, with or without lipstick smudges. and peyton wants so badly to tell her that, but... he's too busy throwing her not-so-subtle heart eyes to compose the message. he beams and nods at her question. " i think that's how it works. or... we dip our toe in and go make a blanket fort instead. " he chuckles but... he's semi-serious. with a definitive nod, he exits his side of the vehicle and crosses over to open cassandra's door for her. " ready for some space travel ? " stupid theme-related joke. moron. peyton extends his hand and a charming smile anyway.

all she wants is to tell him to turn the car around so they can go make that blanket fort. but if she doesn't show up, people will talk, and they were doing that enough already. instead she pulls herself out of the car. "it's gonna be out of this world," she teased back. his hand comes out toward her and her breath hitches . this was happening. she was going to prom... with the boy she'd had a crush on for years and there were feelings. real, whole, mutual feelings. with all of these wonderful thoughts bouncing around in her head, she took his hand with a grin.

it's gonna be out of this world. peyton lets out one of those exhale laughs, through his nose. he shouldn't find that funny but he really, really does. she takes his hand and he gives hers a gentle squeeze. " oh, for sure. think aliens like to party ? " they begin the walk to the venue's front door, but every bone in his body aches to get back in that car and just... go for a ride. chill somewhere quiet. talk and talk and talk until the sun rises. but they've got tomorrow; they've got plenty more days for that. now, he reaches forward with his free hand and pulls open the door to new ham's prom with a hopeful smile. he takes a moment to revel in it, her smile, just for him. as they step through the threshold though, arm in arm, it's time for the whole town to see cassandra pressman shine.

#c;peyton #this is only under a read more because it's long af

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gold-gguk · 6 years

Text

《 Five O’Clock Shadows 》

summary ↠ When you begin to suspect an unknown someone is stalking your neighborhood, you find yourself running to the only person you can think to trust: Namjoon. Little do the both of you know what you’re about to endure for the sake of sanity and friendship...and maybe more.

genre ↠ angst, friendstolovers!au, stalker!au member ↠ kim namjoon warnings ↠ stalker/obsessive tendencies word count ↠ 4.7k

moodboard by @woojungkook || requested by anon. We stan the king.

The deep and unsettled ball of unease stationed in the pit of your stomach continues to roll around relentlessly as you press the flat of your palm to your abdomen, checking that the lining of your body is still containing the steadily increasing queasy feeling, even if only barely. You spur on the pace of your steps, feet quickening against the rough surface of the sidewalk as the sound of your short breaths cut in front of you, puffs of chilled air streaming from between your parted lips.

The risk of a glance behind you is necessary, or at least you convince yourself it is, just to be sure, as a subtle noise akin to footsteps echoes from over your shoulder. Your eyes frantically scan the dark street, narrowing keenly against the various alley entrances and shadowed storefronts, places hidden from the revealing glow of the overhanging streetlights. In the end, you resolve that your paranoia is getting to you again, making you hear things that just aren’t there. Still, you can’t help a last flick of your wandering irises behind you, flitting your gaze across the vacant road, the absence of visible bodies almost making the possibility of concealed ones more unnerving.

Your pace speeds along, legs widening their stride as you yank your bag further over your aching shoulder. It’s your own fault, really, for staying at the library so late, but at the time, remaining until after the incessant whispers of every other student had vacated the building seemed like a wise idea: history finals wouldn’t cram for themselves. Now, however, hours later than any sane person should be roaming the streets, you’re starting to regret your decision, wondering if a good grade is well worth your life. You know you might be over-exaggerating things a bit, but after the strange happenings of the previous week and the news story that had caught the city’s attention last month, walking alone late at night is the last place you’d like to be depicted.

That sickly sensation begins creeping over the back of your neck like hot ice again, raising prickly and uncomfortable gooseflesh that brings a taught pull to the muscles in your shoulders. You force your eyes to stay trained forward this time, unwilling to risk anymore glimpses into the void behind you, too nervous of what might be lurking there. Your brain is jittery, fumbling for thought as your body steps on pins and needles, every nerve on high alert against the slightest twinge of noise or flicker of movement. A flash of jet black suddenly cuts through your peripherals, a shrill shout building in your tight chest before your wide eyes land on the fat cat that has just scurried past you and onto the rise of a nearby bench.

“You’re not so scary,” you breathe relievedly, stepping from your stunned position as you huff with laughter, amused at the silliness of your own fright. You reach down gently and run your fingers over the soft fur of the feline as she purrs gratefully against you, pushing her head further into your hand before something abruptly draws her attention, her sedated eyes widening down the street behind you before she’s gone, darting away and into the darkness once more before you can register her disappearance. Your fingers stall above where she previously sat, frozen with confusion and fear as you slowly crane your neck to scan the dimly lit avenue. Your nerves should calm when you see nothing, just the usual street lamp and random bench here and there, but the absence of subject does the exact opposite, an unfurling fear lighting through the network of your veins, aching all the way into your fingertips until your entirety is humming with alarm, spurring you to motion.

You swallow hard, your feet stumbling back before your body catches up, suddenly running from nothing, shoes smacking the pavement as you speed onward, breath burning in your lungs. The shivers racing to meet the ends of your appendages continue their relentless assault as you move, the quickening pace of your panicked limbs seemingly useless at removing you from whatever the source of your perturbation is. You’re not quite sure where you’re running until you suddenly find yourself on a familiar street, feet carrying you steadfast towards the the front door of someone you hadn’t realized you were headed to see, prompted to him by subconscious trepidation.

Your knuckles rap against the hard wood of his door so hard your joints begin to ache, but you insist, the pain in your hand nothing compared the persistently creeping tingle rising up your spine. The hairs on the back of your neck stand stock straight as your eyes whip sideways to survey the length of the road, widening in an attempt to detail every nook and cranny, desperate to make out some sort of culprit while equally terrified. You’re so caught up in your frantic scrutinization that you fail to notice the wood disappearing from under your knuckles, your hand continuing to knock on empty air for a few seconds before the feeling of long and nimble fingers snake around your waving wrist, halting your motion.

You jolt at the touch, eyes shooting back to the door to find it open, a tall and sleep-worn Namjoon standing in the frame. His muted brunette hair, almost silver in the dark light, is mussed, obviously styled by the pillows he was surely buried in not minutes ago. His long torso is bare, the only clothing he’d thought to put on before answering the door being the loosely hung sweatpants that poorly cover the band of the black boxer briefs peeking over the top, hugging against the jut of his narrow hipbones.

You glance back up to his face to find his smooth features scrunched against the glare of the streetlight, eyes scrunched as his free hand rubs sleepy circles into them with his pointed knuckles. It takes him a moment to focus on your presence despite the way his hand is gently gripping your wrist. “Y/N?” he mumbles, squinting down at you until your face becomes a clearer picture. “What are you doing here?”

Instead of answering him with words, you find yourself flung forward, arms coming to rest around the shape of his bare waist as he jolts in surprise, stumbling back a few steps with you attached to him. He grunts at the impact and you take full advantage, pushing yourself against the familiar warmth of his skin as you pass through the doorway of his home, fingers digging into his back as you move.

“Close the door, Joon. Close the door, close the door,” you urge, your voice strained against him as he looks down at you, arms held up with stunned confusion as to what you’re doing at his house this late and this frazzled. Still, the tone of your voice has him obliging, reaching a long arm over you to swing the front door closed. The moment you hear the sound of the latch click shut, your body heaves with relief, the crawling discomfort that had your skin prickling beginning to seep from you by the second as you breathe lowly.

Namjoon, now somewhat awake and aware of your slightly trembling frame encircling him, sighs, his own lithe arms bending to accommodate your figure, coiling slowly around your shape in an effort to coax out the last of your shivers. He holds you here like this for a silent moment, taking the liberty to lean his head down enough to gently brush the pillow of his lips over the silk of your hair, back and forth ever so lightly, the sensation of him against you only soothing you further.

“So are you going to tell me why you’ve shown up at my house in the middle of the night in a blind panic?” Namjoon eventually whispers into the lulling silence, that familiar lightheartedness evident in his voice. “Or do you want to play a rousing game of 20 questions?”

You can’t help but snort, face still hidden in his chest. Maybe this is why your feet carried you here instead of your own home: they knew only Namjoon would know what to say to make you laugh your way from the lock of your shaken state.

“Hey,” Namjoon coaxes as your soft laughter dissipates, serious now as he gently leans you away from him. He intently searches your gaze, his hand detaching to raise to your face, soft fingers pushing a few stray hairs behind your ear as he scrunches his brow. “Are you okay?”

You take a deep breath, tearing your eyes from him for a only a moment before resetting your irises upon his deep, studying, hazel orbs. “Yeah, I’m fine.” As you speak, your nerves beginning to settle, you realize just how intrusive your presence is, rousing Namjoon from sleep unannounced, shoving your way inside uninvited, and all merely on the whim of danger. A slight pang of guilt pinches your chest, and it would probably be more-so if Namjoon hadn’t done the same to you for far less reason in your years of friendship. You’ll count this as simply returning the favor.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he questions tenderly, reading your undercurrent almost like he’s done it before.

You manage a weak smile, eyes drifting over his face as you softly shake your head. “In a minute.” You need time to gather yourself more wholly before you go spilling a load of imaginary fears into Namjoon’s lap.

He’s is about to nod when you suddenly reach forward again, pressing your cheek to the plane of his chest as you squeeze his waist, closing your eyes against the comfort. “Can you just...maybe stay like this for a little bit?” you request softly, remaining still save for the subtle way your fingers are lilting over the dip of Namjoon’s spine. He really is so warm...

A swell of consoling tingles whispers along your skin when Namjoon folds his arms around you once more, his lips resting atop the crown of your head. “I’ll stay,” he murmurs into your hair, absentmindedly swaying your bodies in a silent cadence that slowly lulls you further into his assuage. Somewhere amidst the serene embrace, you begin to lean more limply into Namjoon, your body falling victim to the entrancing oscillation, suddenly incredibly weary as the late hour and taxing events catch up with you.

You faintly feel yourself being prompted forward as your hands grip at Namjoon for support, your feet fumbling over themselves in an attempt to stay upright. Your eyes fight to open, curious to see where you’re being moved to until you’re suddenly flopping towards Namjoon, tired limbs softly tugged down to straddle his lap as he situates himself on the couch in his living room. Logic inclines you to remove yourself, to sit next to him rather than on him like this, leaning your head in the crook of his broad shoulder, but the room is so dark and quiet, and Namjoon is so warm and solid, cradling you to his chest with expansive palms that are delicately trailing the line of your spine as you slump into him, that you find yourself unwilling to move.

You hum sleepily against Namjoon’s skin, your fingers dusting over the slim curve of his waist as you draw your hands up, curling them around the firm warmth of his neck as he adjusts slightly for you, slipping his head forward to make room. The feeling of his broad chest breathing in tandem with yours, his big heart thudding solidly underneath the spread of his coffee skin, is something unlike you’ve ever experienced anywhere else. Namjoon’s presence has always been this sense of comfort for you, and it’s with this placid thought that you’re finally pulled under, completely oblivious to the sweet murmurings of a boy too shy to utter them against your ear fully awake.

You’re not sure for how long you drift off, for how long the sweet unconsciousness of sleep commands your body, but when your eyes finally flutter open, the fuzzy image that slowly pans back into focus around you is still dim, cloaked in a soft, purple hue that hints at how early in the morning it must be. You blink blearily against the remnants of your deep slumber, still half asleep as you shift your weight slightly, flinching in surprise when the solid surface under you shifts back. Leaning your head to the side, you crane your tired gaze to find Namjoon, head lolling against the cushions on the back of the couch. His eyes are gently shut, soft lashes splayed like little brush strokes over the tops of his cheeks, and his plush lips are slightly parted, almost inaudible snores sneaking from between them every few seconds.

You’re suddenly very aware of the way Namjoon is holding you against him, the shift of your position just a moment ago prompting his sleeping figure to tighten the grip he has around your waist, tugging your straddling frame further into his chest as your own hands lay flat along the contour of his shoulders, which you now remember are bare. You’re not sure if it’s the half-awake fuzz still dusting your head or the way the subtle hills and grooves of the muscles lying hidden just under Namjoon’s skin can be felt whenever you delicately skim your fingertip along it, but you make no effort to move off of him. Instead, you find yourself raising a hand from his chest to his face, hesitant but curious fingers wandering to the tousled mess of curls littering his forehead.

You gently thread a single finger amidst the soft texture of his hair, watching as the lock slowly raises atop your digit and then flops silently back down into place. It’s almost odd how many times you amuse yourself by repeating this action, varying the locks of hair, eyes mesmerized by the silky lilt of it as it moves. Eventually, however, you find yourself threading more than one finger between the strands, pads of your hands running tenderly along Namjoon’s scalp as the tendrils coast like butter through your digits. A small, content smile curls at your lips as you continue, leaning your head to the side as your hand runs again through Namjoon’s rich mop.

You’re jolted from your methodical petting when a low hum elicits from Namjoon’s throat, his chest rumbling against you as his eyelids begin to flutter. You retract your hand with a flinch, a flush racing to your cheeks for having woken your best friend in such an unconventional way. It’s not like you and Namjoon have never slept over before, and it’s not like you’ve never done it in the same bed, but playing with his hair in the early hours of the morning wasn’t something you could say was on the friendship checklist.

You sit back slightly in Namjoon’s lap as his eyes lethargically blink themselves awake, the lazy pull of the lids an obvious indicator of how he isn’t quite ready to take on the day. “Good morning,” you smile quietly down at him when his gaze meets yours, deciding that speaking into the silence is better than letting it settle.

“Morning,” he replies in a raspy tone, one of his hands raising to rub the sleep from his eyes as he yawns. The motion reminds you of the same one he had enacted last night when answering the door for you after being awoken from his first attempt at sleep. Suddenly, your reason for being here in the first place comes flooding back to you, the leftovers from the crawling prickle beginning to prod at the base of your neck in reminder as your smile falls from your face.

Namjoon quickly picks up on your shift in mood, his knuckles ceasing their movement against his eyelid as he sits up a little straighter under you. He stays gazing at you for a moment as your irises cast off along the floor, slightly dazed in the memory of last night as he studies your expression, reading your face instantly.

“Y/N,” he gently calls, tilting his head in an attempt to get into your line of view. “Are you ready to talk about why you’re here?”

You take a heavy breath, ready to explain what drove you to Namjoon, but unsure of how to explain your fear without any real, hard, fact to back it up. Scrunching your eyebrows together, you drag your eyes back to Namjoon’s awaiting face, sighing before deciding to go with the most to-the-point answer you can conjure. “I think someone’s been following me.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen almost instantly, his lips parting in a silent gasp as he flits his gaze across your face. “What?”

“I think someone’s be-”

“I heard that part,” Namjoon urges on, his lips exerting a little extra effort to keep up with forming around his rushed words. “What do you mean someone’s been following you? When? Where? Who?”

A bubble of air stutters in your chest, multiple answers to his multiple questions trying to spill out all at once before you close your eyes, breathing deeply as you reach out to place your hands back on the flat of Namjoon’s heavily rising chest. “Joon, please slow down,” you request, your eyes still closed as you feel him begin to relax under your palms, leaning back into the cushions once more. “I don’t know who. Just someone.”

“How long have you been feeling like this?” he asks, his voice miles softer and slower by the time you open your eyes to find his face studying yours with worried brows.

You shrug, gaze tearing away to the floor as your lip curls down. “I don’t remember exactly when,” you admit. “Two weeks ago maybe?”

Namjoon jolts forward at your words, shock mixed with a twinge of worried anger contorting his face before he quickly wrenches his eyes closed, composing himself with pursed lips. You see his tensely wound shoulders sigh with release before his eyes meet yours once again, Namjoon’s face restored to a folded, brow, eyes glossed with curious disquiet.

“Why wouldn’t you have told me?” he prods quietly, his gaze searching yours. “Something could’ve happened to you. Someone could’ve--” He cuts himself off as if he doesn’t want to finish the rest, and you don’t think you want him to either.

“It’s probably nothing, Nams,” you assure meekly, your words barely leaving an impressionable mark on yourself.

“Why do you say that?”

“I’ve...I’ve never actually seen anybody,” you admit shyly, glancing down to your lap. “It’s just been this feeling I’ve had.” You remain with your gaze fixated on the material of your pants, hoping your words don’t sound too stupid out loud despite the weight they hold in your memory.

You hear Namjoon sigh above you as you ready yourself to be brushed aside before his long fingers find their way under your tilted chin, softly tugging your face back into his view. He’s intently studying you when you meet his eyes, his expression so intense that you find yourself shrinking back in his firm grip. “You should’ve told me,” he suddenly says much to your surprise. You were sure Namjoon was going to laugh this whole thing off the minute you admitted your fear was rooted entirely on a premonition.

“What?”

“Y/N, you and the whole city know what happened last month with that girl from Inchang High School. She disappeared, and the police are still looking for her.” At Namjoon’s words, you find your chest constricting oddly, the tragedy of the young girl’s vanishing still fresh in almost every corner of the city. “Her family’s in shambles, her friends are mourning, and the community is a wreck trying to help look for her.”

“Namjoon...”

“And do you remember who the police warned us all about after she went missing? Do you remember who they said was probably at fault for her disappearance?”

You do, but as you listen to Namjoon’s recount, you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“A stalker. Her stalker. Someone who had watched her for weeks, learned her routine, and then taken advantage of the perfect, vulnerable moment. One moment was all it took, and look at what happened.”

By the time Namjoon’s finished speaking, your chin is practically trembling between his fingers, the unwarranted heat of tears beginning to prickle behind your heavily blinking lids. You’ve never, once, in the past two weeks, said the words out loud. Hearing Namjoon utter the possible reality of your situation has a whole new layer of deep-set and suffocating panic settling on top of you, the air in your lungs constricting painfully as you struggle to maintain your breath.

“No...it’s not--” is all you can manage to choke out amidst the stuttering inhales, the shake of your head conveying to Namjoon all he needs to know to respond with a sincerely saddened look as he takes you in.

“I’m not saying that,” he reassures gently, his hand moving from your chin to your cheek to softly thumb over your shivering skin. “I’m saying you need to be careful. I’m saying, just a feeling or not, you should’ve told me because I want to keep you safe, Y/N.”

The removing of the firm hold of his fingers from your chin has left your jaw free to shake violently, the look on Namjoon’s face mixed with the honesty of his words only increasing the tremble until its almost uncontrollable. Even though you know Namjoon wasn’t trying to insinuate anything on you, and the deeply rooted realization of what you had pegged down to a feeling was already somewhere long-known inside of you, the vocalization of such things never becomes any easier, the crushing weight of what you now have to deal with setting its full self by the tons directly on the cavity of your fragile chest.

“I’m so scared,” you suddenly cry, your words spilling out between contorted lips as the heat behind your eyes bubbles over. Namjoon’s brow furrows with heartache as he wraps his long and warm arms around the shape of your shivering shoulders, drawing you back against him as your face falls into his neck, crying with a subdued voracity into his skin. One of his hands raises to brush away the strands of hair littering the line of your neck, his fingers replacing their previous station with soft and soothing strokes along your stuttering flesh, contracting with releasing sobs under the layer of soft skin.

“Shhh, don’t be scared, I’m right here,” Namjoon hushes consolingly, the cadence of his voice against your ear sending comforting waves down your spine. “I’ll always be right here.” You find yourself with the sudden energy to grip him back, shaking hands curling around his waist as they find warmth between his body and the couch, fingertips running along the dips in the bottom of his spine.

Namjoon allows you to cry against him until you have no more tears to spare, keeping silent save for the few sweet reassurances he ushers into your ear here and there, mostly expressing his consolation with the firm and steady squeeze of his arms around your frame, remaining there until the majority of your trembling has ceased to a light hum. As your tears subside, your quiet whimpers still echoing around the room every moment or so, Namjoon relaxes his hold on you, his hand raising to tangle in the dangling tendrils of your hair along the curve of your back.

“Namjoon,” you sniffle, your cheek laid flat against his chest as your body curls limply in his lap.

“Hmm,” he hums in response, gentle in the aftermath of your emotion.

“What if it’s true?” you venture, trying with all your might to keep your body from stiffening too severely. “What if I’m next?” Despite your efforts, your voice breaks towards the end of your questioning, Namjoon’s arms squeezing around you in response.

“It’s not going to happen,” he’s quick to promise, his voice so steady that you actually begin to believe him. “I’ll walk you everywhere personally if I have to. Home, school, work, the store, anywhere you want me, I’ll go.” He pauses, his lips lowering to press against the top of your head in a chaste kiss. “I’m not going to see your face on the news, Y/N. I won’t.”

Despite the still-small ache throbbing lowly in your chest from your leftover tears, the conviction of Namjoon’s words and the way his arms are holding you fast have you closing your eyes against the safety of his embrace, wishing suddenly to never part from it. “Namjoon,” you whisper out once more, waiting until you feel him hum against your hair before you continue. “Will you please come home with me?”

You relish the feeling of smiling as Namjoon chuckles underneath you, shifting slightly as he prepares to rise, his hands assisting your hips in sliding off of him as he does so. “I’d love nothing more.”

After the waterfall events of the early morning, Namjoon and you are more awake than you expected, not having to wait very long at all for your friend to head upstairs and put on actual clothes suitable for the chilly weather. He’s back down in record time, a pleasant grin on his face as he gathers your bag for you over his shoulder and allows you out the door. His street seems much less menacing in the golden glow of the early sunrise, the sound of birds chirping in the far distance a lovely soundtrack to walk to as you both begin the trek back to your apartment.

Outside of the walls of Namjoon’s house, your energy is slightly different, the close proximity of sleep and the way you felt so comfortable to touch him without restraint now somewhat returned to how it was before. It leaves a slight pang of longing that you can’t seem to shake as you continue to eye the swing of Namjoon’s open palm between you while you walk, the hand that only an hour ago was wrapped so tightly around you now seeming so off-limits. You briefly wonder if he’s thinking the same about you before your eyes flit away towards the pavement, trying your damndest to focus on the excited ramblings spilling from his lips over his latest musical endeavor.

Your banter flows easily, like it always does, making time pass quickly as the pleasantness of your early morning walk draws to a close, the vision of your apartment building approaching at the end of the street.

“Once I put my stuff away, do you want to go grab some breakfast at that coffee shop on the corner?” you question, turning your body towards Namjoon as you take the final few steps up to the front glass doors of your building, smiling when he nods enthusiastically in return. Your grin vanishes, however, the moment you turn back and your foot makes contact with a thin, manilla envelope jutting out from between the double doors, carefully placed there by gentle hands.

You slowly bend down to pick it, aware of Namjoon standing behind you as your fingers delicately unfold the top. A lump forms in your throat as it pops up, something deep in your stomach telling you that this package was intended to find your hands. Shaking fingers slowly slide into the parcel until they fit around a thin piece of parchment, almost unwilling to draw it out of hiding but doing so anyway despite the shouts of protest echoing around the walls of your head.

Your stomach does a nauseating twist as your eyes finally land on the contents: a single picture with a sticky note attached. The photo is of you last night, pressing yourself into Namjoon’s chest as you shoved your way inside of his house: a still shot of the moment you escaped the crawling discomfort of the open night. But as your eyes cast down, your legs turning to a trembling mess beneath you, your throat scratching with a white heat, and your insides somersaulting with a sickening throw, you read over the small note stuck neatly to the bottom of the photo, 6 little words that send your head spinning.

I’m done hiding in the shadows.

(*cue the law and order DUN DON* issa two parter y’all)

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fightevilandthengetblownup · 5 years

Text

My Design Verse IV

He was running late.

It wasn't a completely unusual occurance in the last six months since he'd been cleared of any involvement in the Copy Cat murders, but it still was enough to make Will feel on edge.

He couldn't quite tell when, but at some point during the night there had been a power surge from an electrical storm. His alarm clock had stopped and he had over slept. His months under Chilton's care however helped ensure he was up early and only running fifteen minutes behind schedule.

It was an unusual time of year for such storms though and he could hear the soft, knowing voice whispering to him that it was a sign, an omen. That electrical storms were the start of darkness descending upon an area. He fought hard to shake the voice from his head and the shiver it brought up from his spine. It had been a month since he'd seen her, and he was determined not to fall back into madness chasing after another ghost.

Will raced across the lawns of Quantico towards his lecture room. Hopefully the students wouldn't have left yet despite his tardiness. Today's lecture was on how to test a profile against another.

As he approached the lecture hall, expecting silence or the dull hum of many voices talking to each other at once, he found himself frowning when only the sound of his shoes on the tiles and one professional sounding voice could be heard - though the exact voice and words were muffled by the closed lecture hall doors.

Someone else was lecturing his class.

Walking faster, Will propelled himself forward and pushed through the doors quickly, calling out harshly, "Sorry that I'm late class, we're good to begin in a moment."

"No need to fret, Will dear. I've already started today's lecture for you."

The voice froze him in place, eyes wide as he looked across into the space beside his podium and his desk, where she stood. His bloody angel, illuminated in the glow of the teaching spot light.

She didn't look like herself though, her true self with bruises and blood stains and a smile that made his stomach twist every morning that he woke up having been inches away from claiming it amongst the blood and hauntingly beautiful imagery his brain would concoct for her each night. She appeared to have a brunette wig on, a shoulder length one at that which was almost dead straight with full bangs that drew him into her eyes through the bright red glasses disguising them. She was wearing a suit too - a navy pencil skirt and blazer with a plain white blouse. The heels she wore made him want to cry for the dirty boots she'd left beside his door.

However different she looked on the outside, as he stumbled towards her, he could see her - see you - underneath it in the twitch of her lips and the dark of her eyes. Will knew abstractly that his students would be whispering about him, about his jerky movements until he was at her side, about his hand twitching out to touch her arm to confirm she was really there. But they would have no idea what it was really about.

"Thank you for arriving though, Mr. Graham. I'll just continue now after the interruption." Her voice had a cool professional tone to it, as if discussing the weather not how to profile a serial killer, and held none of the warmth and twang he had come to associate with her. Just as he thought he was imagining her onto someone else, his lure shot him that smile as she clicked the teleprompter - flashing the crime scene he'd queried her about onto the board.

"Now, this here is a particularly hard case. Three victims. All young women. No signs of forced entry. Of any kind, mind you." her words were punctuated with a change in crime scene photo illustrating each point. "Each victim killed through a different means. Throat slit and fire. Disembowelment. Torture." The photos were almost too gruesome for the images to be shown to a class, and a few of the students appeared to be getting very near I'll. "Various markers around the scene - knife marks, the shaved hair clumps, the displaying of the last victim. What are your theories?"

There was a murmur through the class. Will rarely requested input in his lectures during such disturbing times - the last image being displayed a close up of the once blonde girl's face, bloody finger trails down her chin and to wrap around her bruised and choked neck - but their guest lecturer was unphased and unmoved as she stared about the class.

"Anyone?"

"They're another copy cat. With the presentation!" One of his cockier students in the third row called out, with all eyes suddenly focussing on Will for a few seconds.

"Wrong. This individual cares nothing of the evil doing of any one else nor hiding their tracks by copying." She corrected the response so quickly, flicking through a few more images - the pool of entrails at the brunette's feet, the knife mark in the hallway, the gas fireplace with the redhead's charred remains. "Next profile?"

"A sadomasochist - the torture was to get them off for some reason. Punish the girls too. Like a... Ted Bundy?" One of the few female students suggested, uncertainty entering her voice as she finished.

"Oh he wishes he was Ted Bundy." His angel's laugh was still the same and Will found himself leaning towards her at the sound, like an alcoholic in the desert trying to get to the last drop of liquid in his bottle. "Where the punishment is there, it's clearly not of a sexual nature. Can anyone hazard a guess how we know that?"

"He shaved her head." Will found himself answering, feet drawing him closer to her to lean in, hand laying so tantalisingly close to her own atop his desk. "She lied to him. She made him think she was someone else, that she was his real target. But she was a fake blonde and didn't live up to expectations. She had to be punished for tricking him so."

"Exactly, Mr. Graham, the hair gives it away." He might have been imagining it, but he could have sworn she sounded breathier than usual. Sounded fixated. Sounded drawn in too. He thought he felt her fingers twitch like they wanted, needed, desired to touch his as much as he did too. "She wasn't his target and so she must be punished for it."

Neither one spoke for a long moment, staring at one another as his pendulum swung and he realised how close her insanity ran to his. If he'd just take the leap, just take the plunge, just surrender to it.

"What about the other two then?" The voice of one of the students snapped the trance like a jolt. Like a lightening strike. Like an electrical storm.

"The other two... Yes, the other two! Why were they killed in the order and fashion they were? Any one?" Her breathy tone returned to the clipped professional, non-region specific accent she'd been masking herself with, as the fake brunette turned to look around the room. "Why was the red head first and why was she torched after death?"

"He had a thing for blondes?"

"She was the first to open the door?"

"She struggled first?"

Her head shook with each answer, though Will thought he'd detected a small laugh of a cough at the first shout. The more questions she asked, the more his students found themselves engaging like he'd never seen them engage with him before. His heart felt constricted watching her so close to him, so close to a potential reality for them side by side teaching the next generation all they knew from their own tortured psyche.

"There's truth to the blonde theory - he was there for her, after all. But there must be a reason to destroy the body. Incinerate it beyond almost all recognition. The only reason we know she's a redhead is from dental records and the last photo of her from that night. Why would someone destroy something to that extent?"

"Because he hates it. Because it torments them to see it." The seductive voice came from the auditorium doors and made the bile rise up on Will's throat at the sound. He couldn't be here. He couldn't come near his angel, couldn't be allowed to see her - see you - or touch her or taste her. Doctor Letter entered the room, stepping into the slightly darkened door passages from where he had been lot behind like a halo of light surrounded him before being swallowed by the dark. Will barely noticed Jack entering beside him in his blind panic to conceal his lure from his tormentor. "The man wanted it gone, never wanted to see it again. It hurt him to see."

"You'd be right and wrong at the same time. No one would go to such lengths to mask one type of death with another while also having the psyche to have left the clear markers on the other bodies - so clearly there is emotion involved." Her voice cracked at the word emotion, his angel's face transformed in an instant at Hannibal's interference with her lecture into something that made Will's stomach twist almost as much as her smile did. Or perhaps it was how her fingers finally touched his own, rubbing gently and unseen against the inside of his wrist. "But hatred? If he hated it, he would have shorn her like the other whom he'd since despised for her lies. This was a remnant of a love. A long forgotten or buried one, but from that source comes a toxic, rage-inducing and all consuming reaction to it, that clearly has left an impact still such that he hates to continue to see it any further."

As Hannibal moved to open his mouth, her voice cut over him rudely - so rudely - to announce the end of the lecture. There were sounds of dismay from the class as a whole, but the teleprompter shuttered down devolving the room into darkness. She'd not reset the lights so there were calls of confusion and laughs from the students as they began to make their way out.

He felt more than saw her shift beside him, her hand squeezing his once tightly as she whispered softly, "That monster has nothing on yours. I'm sorry I suggested otherwise before." There was another squeeze and he wished he could have held on forever before her fingers slipped from his grasp.

Will could tell Hannibal and Jack alike were waiting to speak with him, and possibly be introduced to the guest he'd allowed to teach that day. But Will knew the moment that the lights would be back on she'd be gone, lost in the sea of students.

As one of the exiting class members flicked the lights on, Will steadied himself to discuss whatever the pair were there to talk with him about. He didn't have to turn to know she'd be gone. As the duo spoke to him about some new case, Will nodded where he had to and smiled his awkward smile they were used to before agreeing.

It wasn't until he began packing away her notes that he realised the photos weren't the FBI's photos but seemingly her own with their own notations. On the back of the photo of the fireplace, there was a post-it not asking him the most taunting question of all - How was she set on fire with no wood or gas connection on?

#AU stories #my design verse

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bifuriouswaterbender · 6 years

Text

A Sense of Identity--Yukonic Fanfic

Read on AO3 here. This was inspired by the motto “If no one else will write fanfic for your ship, write it yourself.”

Fandom: Deadpool (2 technically)

Characters: Negasonic Teenage Warhead, Yukio, Colossus (briefly), Deadpool (mentioned)

Pairing: Negasonic/Yukio

Rating: G

Summary: Negasonic reflects on her own name as she deals with the gay panic of a teenager lesbian facing her first major crush.

She had never liked her name.

Ellie was so plain, so simple. It was a common name that had never really fit her. Now if her parents had been forward-thinking enough to name her Elliot, she may have felt differently. But Eleanor had never suited her, and Ellie barely worked. But it was the only name she had.

The first time she accidentally exploded into a ball of fire had been terrifying for everyone around her. For Ellie, it was a relief.

She loved her parents, but they’d never really understood what made her tick as a regular human. As a mutant? They were happy to send her off to a fancy school where she could harness her powers and maybe learn some manners.

She hadn’t exactly gained the manners, but Negasonic Teenage Warhead was a miracle of a name. When she was struggling to come up with something that felt like enough, one of the older kids had suggested listening to old songs. Some of the coolest names came from the lyrics. Taking their word for it, Ellie had flipped through old records, pausing when she saw a song title she liked. Negasonic Teenage Warhead had frozen her, an exciting sense of cold running down her center to cut the heat she always knew was there. It was over the top, strong, and just anarchistic enough to feel like an identifier. Once she listened to the record, she decided the song itself was fine. But the name couldn’t be beat.

Most of the other kids found her name to be too much of a mouthful, and she became Negasonic to most of them. Occasionally someone dug up the name Ellie Phimister. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but Negasonic did everything in her power not to answer to it and to get people to stop using it.

Most of the time it worked. Even when she wasn’t actively using her powers for anything, just channeling them was enough to intimidate most people. She infrequently got asked what she would do about her name once she wasn’t a teenager anymore.

She would shoot whoever asked a scorching look complete with one raised eyebrow and say, “The name is more than just Teenage. I think I’ve got other parts to keep.”

Secretly she liked the ring of Negasonic Warhead. It sounded even more badass in her mind than the full moniker, but twelve-year-old Ellie had been too excited by the idea of literally identifying as a teen. Until she turned nineteen, though, she could handle the middle, especially since no one ever used the full name anyway.

Except occasionally Wade, but he alternated that with so many insults and (often outdated) pop culture references that she didn’t really care.

“Negasonic,” Colossus called up the stairs. As usual, his voice carried without him actually raising his voice above typical speaking level. “Come down here. There is friend I want you to meet.”

Friend was not a typical word thrown her way. Negasonic knew Colossus had been trying to find her a nice friend ever since she’d buzzed her hair. It had been the same chin-length bob since before discovering her powers, and Negasonic had needed a change when she hit fifteen. She thought it made her look edgy. One of the more obnoxious preteens had said it made her look ready to beat someone up. She’d only somewhat threatened to beat him up for it.

Even now that she was letting it grow, Negasonic was more than happy to lean into that reputation whenever possible. She imagined this supposed friend would be easily intimidated with a scowl or two and that Negasonic could escape after a quick tour and a little awkward small talk.

She wasn’t expecting a perky pink-haired girl with gorgeous eyes to be waiting at Colossus’s side.

“Negasonic!” Colossus said enthusiastically, clamping a hand on her shoulder that was obviously oblivious to her gay panic. “This is Yukio. She will be joining X-Men.”

“Hello,” said the girl. She bounced forward--literally bounced--and stuck out her hand for Negasonic to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She reacted on autopilot and shook the girl’s hand, trying not to focus on its soft warmth. “You too,” Negasonic said. Was her voice faint? Damn it! She’d gone through all this work to build a reputation, and it was all about to be undone by a single pretty girl.

“Colossus said we might have a lot in common.” Yukio’s eyes actually sparkled as she looked up at the metal man.

Negasonic looked up too, mostly to determine if he was having heat stroke from baking in his metal body all day. Aside from an affinity for nontraditional aesthetics, Negasonic couldn’t imagine what she and Princess Bubblegum had in common.

God, she needed to spend less time around Wade.

“Indeed,” Colossus said, giving Negasonic a firm thump on the back that almost sent her flying. “You two are same age, both sassy, both independent. I expect the two of you to be fast friends.”

As two pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly, Negasonic felt a bit of sweat building at the back of her neck. But gay panic or no, she couldn’t afford to be weird. If she screwed up this girl’s first day, Colossus might not forgive her. Plus, bangs that perfect and that pink couldn’t belong to a straight girl, right?

“We’ll see,” she said, trying to remain neutral outwardly. “Would you like a tour, Yukio?”

As Yukio beamed at her, Colossus gave Negasonic another affirming pat on the back. This one did force her to stumble a bit because she’d been so focused on not letting herself be blinded by the literal sunshine on Yukio’s face.

“Wonderful!” Colossus moved a couple steps down the hall. “I have paperwork to do—finalizing Yukio’s transfer to the team and figuring out her class schedule. I think she would like some of the same classes as you, Negasonic. You two have fun!”

Negasonic watched him gently thunder down the hall, her panic slowly rising toward the surface as she was left alone with the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen.

There was a twinkle in Yukio’s eye that made Negasonic wonder if the girl was onto her. Before she could process that idea, Yukio took a few bouncing steps up the stairs.

“So where do we start?” she asked, offering Negasonic a knee-weakening grin.

Negasonic swallowed hard. Time to hit the reset on her feelings because she’d never be able to function if this kept up. Pretending to become her usual moody self, Negasonic jerked her head in the direction of the grounds.

“It might rain. We would probably check out the training areas first.”

The smile Yukio sent back at her was more reserved than the ones from earlier, and Negasonic tried to pretend the smaller smile gave her a smaller reaction. Being a girl had its advantages for hiding such things.

…

As Negasonic thought back on the last hour, she wasn’t quite sure how Yukio had ended up on her bed.

They’d barely made it inside as the rain started up outside. Yukio had scrambled back toward the door with such zeal that Negasonic hadn’t been able to help running alongside her. They’d stumbled back inside laughing loud enough to prompt Colossus to stick his head out of his office. When he’d seen who it was, he simply smiled and let them be.

The downstairs hadn’t taken very long since many of the spaces were ones that they weren’t supposed to go in or had classes in progress. Negasonic was technically missing Latin, but she both hated it and was pretty sure Colossus would vouch for her. He seemed to be in that kind of mood today.

Upstairs was mostly dorms, and when Negasonic had pointed out her own bed, Yukio had collapsed onto it dramatically.

“I hope we’re roommates,” she said with a kind of dreamy earnestness that smacked Negasonic on her ass.

She sat down at the end of her bed, trying not to think about the fact that she’d never had another girl on it before. She didn’t have any female friends who did things like sit on each other’s beds to gossip. The closest she’d come was an offer to visit someone else’s bed when she’d snuck out to a local gay bar. She suspect the other woman had also lied her way in with a fake ID, but even with that suspicion, Negasonic hadn’t been able to justify to herself sleeping with someone she didn’t know, especially if that person thought she was over eighteen and named Alex instead of Ellie.

“We probably will be.” Negasonic shrugged and tried to look like she didn’t care one way or another. “They try to room people age alike. Since most of the other girls are under fourteen or at least eighteen, we’re pretty secluded. There were two other girls in the middle bracket. Both roomed with her, but neither of them talked to her much.

“Lots of guys though,” she added as an afterthought. Without meaning to, Negasonic watched for Yukio’s reaction.

There wasn’t one. Instead she leaned forward and looked expectantly back at Negasonic. “You have a really cool name.”

She didn’t know how to handle that. “Um, that’s the idea,” she said, annoyed by how easy she had been to fluster. “What about you? Is Yukio based on something?” Negasonic didn’t really know anything about Japanese culture, so she hoped it wasn’t something obvious.

“No,” the pink-haired girl replied. “It’s actually my real name.”

Negasonic furrowed her brows together. “Do you not have a name yet?”

She hadn’t when she’d first arrived, but Negasonic had still been relatively young. And Ellie had shed her name as quickly as she could.

Yukio shook her head, ponytail whipping around her face as she did so. “No, and I don’t want one.”

“But you have to have one.”

Yukio smiled, like she knew something Negasonic didn’t. “Actually I don’t. We have them for safety, but it’s not like any of us do anything to protect our identities.”

That was true. Some superheroes were ridiculous about keeping their identities secret, and while Negasonic could understand that perspective, it wasn’t true for a lot of mutants. Often their powers outed them, like hers had. Regardless the big players had their strong we shouldn’t have to hide agenda that they frequently pushed. Many mutants who could have otherwise kept their powers a secret, as she could now that she had much better control of them, readily revealed their identities. Masks weren’t exactly big around here.

It was easy for her, though. She didn’t have a secret identity because Negasonic felt much more like a name than Ellie ever had.

“Still,” Negasonic said. She didn’t know what she was trying to argue, but an argument felt like it needed to be made.

“I’m okay only have one identity,” she insisted. “Besides, my family call me Yuki anyway. Yukio is starting over in a way.”

“A new identity isn’t the same as starting over.”

Yukio simply looked at her, the playful indulgence easy to read. “No? Then why did Colossus call you Negasonic? Why do we all call him Colossus? There may be mutants who go by both readily, but for most of us, the new one is the only thing that matters.”

Maybe that’s why she’d always called Deadpool Wade. As near as she could tell, his alias was purely for professional purposes and because he thought it sounded cool. But to everyone who actually knew him, he was Wade. But despite basically dying multiple times without actually dying, Wade wasn’t a Before and After. It was weird because he literally looked nothing like he had before. (She’d seen the pictures. He was tolerable if you were into clean cut white men, which Negasonic wasn’t.) His personality hadn’t shifted at all, and he’d really just used his After as an extension of the same kind of personality and shit he’d done before. He was just more deadly because he couldn’t die.

Yukio angled her head as she studied Negasonic. In turn, Negasonic wanted to crawl under the bed.

“What’s your birth name?”

Negasonic bit her lip. That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? “I don’t actually like it,” she admitted, hoping that would be enough.

That unfortunately didn’t seem to satisfy Yukio’s curiosity. “What not?”

Shrugging in an I-don’t-care way, Negasonic stared down at her bedspread. “I guess it never really fit.”

Yukio didn’t respond. The silence filled the space between them before expanding into the room as a whole. It left Negasonic ready to suffocate, and she couldn’t stop herself from willingly sharing her name for the first since taking on her superhero identity.

“I’m Ellie.”

“That’s a nice name,” Yukio said, “but you’re right. It doesn’t really fit you.”

Negasonic swallowed, glancing back up at Yukio. The seriousness she found on the other girl’s face transfixed her. They stared not uncomfortably at each other for longer than Negasonic cared to admit.

“What about El?” Yukio asked suddenly.

“It’s a nice letter,” Negasonic responded, not understanding where she was going with this.

As Yukio shook her head again, Negasonic let her eyes track the pink swinging hair again.

“Not the letter L. El as a shorthand for your name. It suits you.”

Negasonic paused as she thought about it. It felt less childish than Ellie and less girly too. “I like it,” she said. Without meaning to, she added, “I like you.”

Instantly Negasonic froze, ready to bolt form her own room of embarrassment. Yukio, to her credit, just grinned with all that sunshine Negasonic had noticed earlier.

“I like you too.”

#deadpool #deadpool 2 #negasonic teenage warhead #yukio #yukonic #negasonic #fanfic #fanficiton #mine #my writing

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elijahlucius · 3 years

Text

Listen patiently to everything.

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Natasha’s door. Lytro is reinventing photography by combining a novel hardware array with cutting edge computational graphics to capture

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a more complete and immersive picture of the world in three dimensions. The tigers suffered other defeats as well. Farmers had been charged with violations of a Clean Air Act and Right to Know laws, requiring them to monitor and report emissions. He could see some now, swinging from spar to spar and ship to ship. The magazine rankings do not include FCS teams such as Northern Colorado.. There were gardens bright with flowers and fountains sparkling golden in the sun. "We've hit a wall, fatigue issues," Van Gundy said. These days the Sistermen left open piracy to Salladhor Saan and his ilk and confined themselves to wrecking. I pronate, I think. Employees in MNCs also celebrate it where they dress up gruesomely and try to scare people with their makeup. "He knew the media were going to be on him all day and he'd had a haircut he looked sharp! I think he knows how to deal with it," Pietersen said. It is for the best. Tuesdays at the Japanese School House, Geil and Pajaro streets, Castroville. The passage twisted to the left. Viserion. Walt Disney World raised parking rates to $11 a car at its four theme parks this past weekend. His awards from World War II and Korea include Distinguished Service Cross, three Silver Stars, two Bronze Stars and two Purple Hearts. It is also a $75.00 doll that is selling online at the official site. No, sir; it is to brassiere garcon fall upon the less wealthy class of our citizens, chiefly upon the non-slaveholder. Mirroring the impact of the original Monsieur Dior's 1947 New Look across the spectrum of fashion, there are few collections shown today that are not in some way a reaction to Simons's designs. The information I have gathered little by little has completely reassured me. Onward, forward and so forth! [1]. Under the deal, Under Armour becomes the official footwear supplier for the league. Looking at it you would have allowed at once that twenty years must have elapsed since its last meal. I'm going to go everywhere I need to go to make sure Flint is remembered. And every day on the trail was followed by a deep black night sky awash with stars, yet another reminder of nature's humbling grandeur and the Bugaboos enduring beauty.. Stannis Baratheon had descended on the Iron Fleet biciclete pret from both north and south whilst they were trapped in the channel between the island and the mainland, dealing Victarion his most crushing defeat. I can’t command you to be brave, but I can command you to hide your fears. He kept on talking so . By any standard, James was brilliant that night, what with 45 points and 15 rebounds in an elimination game on the road. Should the hour come, and I pray that it does not, we will light that beacon. I just want the damned numbers but I cannot seem to find them anywhere on the Post's vaunted Political webpage.. I will even write King Tommen, stating as much and asking for a pardon and the restoration of my lands and titles. It's maybe why I gave you the handle "Beautiful" so "if the shoe fits wear it," Cinderella, or "call em like you see em" I miss you, I miss your slow walk I miss your squeeze, I miss your shape, I miss the scent that is you, and I miss your taste, thick and full of my desire, I miss your love.

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pursuitofhappenstance · 6 years

Text

May 8th, Part 2

Up, up, up the stairs, through the woods, and to the hut. I had spotted a new Matron (Audrey) earlier in the show when doing my roll call during the banquet, and after watching her for a few minutes, I knew I had to return later in the show.

When I get there, she is just letting a man out, and she quickly gets to work tidying up after him. While some Matrons move very slowly and sadly, this Matron moves more frantically. She is constantly checking her watch as if she is anxiously expecting someone. When cups and plates are back in their place, she comes to the window and looks through the haze. Then her eyes lower and find mine. She moves to the door and carefully comes down the stairs. She cocks her head and extends a hand to me. She brings me inside and gives me a gentle smile.

When I am let out, I wander to find the Nurse (Molly) who I know will lead me back to Matron in a few minutes. I find her sitting on a bed examining a photograph on the bedtable of one of the patients. A bell begins to ring and she hurries to the next room and hoists herself into the window. She begins to dance, climbing up the window, swinging her leg across the brick, jumping down to the bathtub below and flying back up onto the window sill. She lies across the sill, head in our room, feet out in the woods, and rolls, arms extending to the side, a mirroring of Sexy’s bar dance. Then she disappears through the window. A beat. Her white cap pops back up and she shuffles away.

She winds her way through the woods until she stands in front of the hut, a wall of branches and twigs separating her from the structure. The music swells and Matron comes to the window as light floods out from behind her. The two study one another. Matron exits the hut and stands directly in front of the Nurse. They gingerly lift their hands and their fingertips touch for an instant. They continue to mirror one another as they move along the wooden maze. Suddenly, the Nurse takes off running, and Matron runs after her, but she is too slow. Nurse has managed to get past a thick metal gate, through which the Matron cannot pass.

The Nurse runs away and returns to the window, standing in silhouette. Then, she drops to the floor and stands out of sight, looking cautiously at the window. When it’s safe, she leaves and walks to the next room, where she begins to slowly walk across the tiled floor, one foot in front of the other, as if she was walking on a tightrope. She wobbles her way down the length of the room, and when she hits a display case, she turns and walks back the way she came from, until she is back in the room with the bathtubs. There she drops the act and walks with purpose to her office, grabs a black bag, and heads down the stairs. She stops at the Macbeth bedroom and heads to Lady Macbeth’s box to set out her clothing for her. When Danvers enters the room, she freezes and looks with wide eyes at her until she leaves. Back to business. She leaves the box and hurries down the steps to the banquet. She watches the proceedings for a while then turns to me.

A few minutes later we are back at the banquet. Everyone is getting up to leave, and we watch as the Macbeths embrace before Macbeth pushes his wife away and runs after Lady Macduff. Lady Macbeth pauses, then walks to the side of the stage and disappears. The Nurse watches this happen, then heads up to the bedroom to reset the clothes. Her duties for the evening have changed, and she no longer needs to escort her newest patient. She heads back to her office, opens a locked box, and uses a knife she finds within it to carve a pattern into a page of one of her medical books. She cuts out the page and holds it up, examining it.

She gets up and walks, still studying the paper. She heads through the hanging laundry, past the operating table, by the bathtubs, and into the forest. There, things are still very quiet. No one is about. She creeps her way through the maze so incredibly slowly that soon the ghosts of the audience are giving up and walking away. Finally, there is movement ahead. Matron has exited the hut and is writing something on a post. Light is streaming through the hut’s closed window, casting a magnificent pattern on the scene. The Matron collapses and Nurse hurries to her. She helps her to her feet, and the two walk back to the hut. There, Matron offers a seat, takes a spoon to inspect Nurse’s mouth, and a crumpled piece of paper falls out! Nurse looks sheepishly at the Matron, who admonishes her. Matron takes a hairbrush and begins to brush Nurse’s hair. The Nurse’s eyes begin to flutter, and Matron sees that Nurse is beginning to nod off, so she stops brushing and sits back on her rocking chair, offering Nurse her lap. The Nurse climbs up and makes herself comfortable, as the Matron begins to rock slowly.

The rocking intensifies and the Nurse bolts up, as the chair begins to loudly knock against the furniture in the hut. She jumps away and out of the hut and quickly makes her way back through the maze. She heads to the operating room and begins to circle along the walls, faster and faster until suddenly she stops in the middle of the room. She slams her hand on the table and looks at it. It begins to lift at the elbow, and suddenly it’s chaos. Her body is out of control, with limbs pulling her every which way. One moment her hands are trying to choke her, the next her leg is pulling her up off the table. She stands up on the table and falls towards the wall, just barely catching herself. She goes under the hanging light, pelvis rising to meet the bulb, when she collapses. She lies on the table in complete stillness. Her chest begins to move again with heavy breathing, as she turns her gaze on an audience member. She sits up and jumps off the table. With a giant smile on her face she walks to her victim and takes them away.

A few minutes later, she returns. She walks to the room with the beds and walks around the perimeter, listening at the walls. The music changes and she heads to a bed, flinging herself onto it. She dances wildly, flipping around the foot of the bed, using the metal frame as a ladder. Then the bell rings out again and she heads to the window once more. Again: a dance, into the woods, and a mirroring dance with the Matron. However, this time, the Matron does not give up on finding Nurse after she takes off. She runs through the maze and exits the woods, meeting Nurse at the entrance to the operating room. The Nurse smiles her large, creepy smile, and shows her the dance that has been plaguing her. The Matron looks on curiously until the Nurse is once again lying on her back on the operating table immobilized. She goes to her and the two proceed to go downstairs to the Macbeth’s bedroom. They tidy it up, cleaning the spilled water around the bathtub, folding up letters, and making the bed. When the last of the pillows is placed, they stop as they hear a thumping sound from above. Their eyes follow the sound from the fourth floor to the side staircase. Then, they both get up, and the Nurse comes to me. She grabs my hand and brings me to one last supper. The final moments, a tight squeeze, and everything goes black. As the light returns and “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” begins to play, a hand finds mine, and I am led back into the warmth of Manderely.

#sleep no more #sleepnomore #mckittrick hotel

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harryff · 7 years

Text

Harry One Shot

She sat uncomfortable listening to them talk. It had been going on for two days, this deep need inside her to cum and even though Harry had fucked her hard the day before, and only the gods knew how many times she did cum, yet she still craved more. It was like her body kept resetting after every single orgasm wanting another never getting tired of the feeling. So the whole day she found herself masturbating to her vivid memories and imaginations of Harry hoping that by evening when the guests arrived she would be fine. But by evening around his friends the sensation only intensified.

As she tried to get her mind off her longing a slight pout formed on her face as the realization came to that Harry was not going to be taking care of her anytime soon, because five guests somehow doubled and then some in the quantity and for the past three hours they trickled in while she played house getting them drinks and hors d'oeuvres making sure they were comfortable. He was leaving for a week and she didn't think she could wait that long because a week always turned to two which ended up being months of not getting to see him or touch him.

She plopped down next to him on the couch her short A-line dress almost exposing her lingerie (that she specifically wore for him) to the group not that he would notice. She had just returned from the bathroom after spending ten minutes in there trying to push herself over the edge and it wasn't working, not fingering herself not rubbing her clit, her body had become accustomed to her touch and needed more than what she had to offer. He was deep in conversation talking about melodies and symphonies jargon that she did not understand. So she sat biting her lip closing her legs tightly her hand in between to help ease the throbbing, scrolling through Instagram hoping some comedy would take her mind off of it. When that didn't work she excused herself from the group and moped into the kitchen of his house hoping that a good amount of ice cream would make her forget her current problems.

She sat by the island taking in big bites of the cookies n’ cream ice cream.

“Wha’s wrong?” Harry asked walking up to her from behind before kissing the back of her head

“Nothing” she said startled by his presence and surprised that he knew something was wrong. But she was a fool to think he wouldnt notice of course he would he paid more attention to her than she did him.

He stepped into her line of vision a shallow frown on his face “tell me” he pressed rubbing small circles on her back

She sighed “I need help”

“Ok with wha’?” he was leaving the next morning so whatever it was, she needed to spit it out.

She shook her head “It’s noth...” A poet who could twist her words and pull emotions entrapping her audience with her elocution. The irony though was that when it came to him all her linguistic skills disappeared.

“Harry you have to see this!” Jeff spoke rushing into the kitchen and pulling him away

He looked back concerned but she forced a smile on her face shoving a spoon full of ice cream into her mouth as he walked out.

When she did not return to his side after thirty minutes he got concerned he looked for her in the kitchen but she wasn't there. He quickly jogged up the steps to find her in the bedroom watching the Netflix show ‘Big Mouth’. He noticed a small bag sitting by the foot of the bed, she had made up her mind that it was better for her to go back to her condo instead of dealing with the agony if he wasn’t going to be around.

“Hey yeh ok?” he asked closing the door

She nodded biting her lip not taking her eyes off the television

“Wha's wrong luv?” he spoke softly concern in his voice as he walked towards her

“Nothing it’s stupid” she blushed

She was embarrassed it's not like she wasn't sore this morning from him thrusting into her last night. So it was crazy to think that she could be this horny for no apparent reason. Their sex life was great there was no lack in luster nor creativity from both of them so it made no sense to her why she felt this way which made her even more bashful and sensitive to the fact. But at the moment even his voice was making things hard. It didn't help that his tone was deep and often beckoned her to cum on command. She closed her eyes tight refusing to acknowledge that now painful throb between her thighs.

The bed dipped next to her where he sat “Pet..” and his hand reached up to rub her back “Wha’s wrong?”

She looked up at him “It’s stupid”

“Nothing is stupid when it comes to yeh.... tell me” he was worried

She sat up and smiled “don’t be so concerned”

“Yeh look pitiful i have to be”

“Trust me you don't” she chuckled

“So wha's the problem?”

She got up and stood between his legs “I need you tooo...” she paused, searching in his green eyes for the right choice of words, when she came up with nothing her face flushed with heat “nevermind Harry” she said flustered taking a step back tucking imaginary hair behind her ear. A recent hair cut into a bob, she was still getting accustomed to the lack of length.

“Need me to wha’?... tell me.. off it please” he said pulling her close

“Need you to get me.. Off” she spoke softly looking at the ground before meeting his gaze

“Off wha’!?...ooohh.. I would luv to pet but i can’ we have guests downstairs”

“No i don’t need you to have sex with me i just want your hands and mouth” she bargained

He looked confused as she straddled him

“Just finger me and kiss me thats all i want” she said wrapping her arms around his neck

“Oh” he grinned before leaning in for a kiss it was soft and gentle his hands roamed on her thighs pushing up her dress exposing her ass one hand gripping it “Almost thought yeh were naked under here” he teased.

She shook her head as she deepened the kiss, gripping his short hair. He groaned as his fingers navigated themselves inside the lace underwear pulling them to the side they moved towards her slit. He realized quickly she wasn't just horny she was feening and she definitely didn't need him to prep her for his fingers.

Delicately he rubbed her opening before he slid his middle and ring finger inside her slit, it was shallow, a test before he could begin his task. A loud moan escaped as she bit his bottom lip. He pulled back and looked in amazement as he pushed his fingers all the way in feeling her arousal roll down his hand. She gasped,her head tilting back, a moan caught in her throat

“Pet what is this?” he asked perplexed unable to hide his grin

She whined “don’t make it worse I’m already embarrassed” she said hiding her face from him laying her head on his shoulder

He chuckled “you’re mo’than fucking soaked it’s an ocean in here”

“Harry” she fussed giggling

“Jus sayin” she could feel him smiling in his voice

He moved his fingers slowly as she rolled her hips to his tempo muffling her loans in his shoulder. His free hand grabbed the base of her neck grabbing her hair pulling her up .

“Let me hear yeh” he commanded as he continued his musings. Finally releasing her bottom lip she moaned letting the pleasure take over.

“So good pet” he encouraged reaching into her dress he found her bra and reached under it to have full access to her breast he kneaded it before pinching her nipple.

Her eyes popped open he hadn't removed his gaze on her, her breathing picked up along with the tempo of her hips on his fingers taking his thumb he swiped it across her already swollen tender clit she jerked at the sensation.

“Giv it to me pet” he enticed. This, this is what her body needed, and this is going to take her over that edge. It wasn’t even five minutes and she found herself trembling, climaxing. A loud grunt left his throat as her essence flowed out of her.

He pulled her closer to him wanting no space between them, grabbing his face she kissed him. She whimpered experiencing random jolts in her body as his fingers slithered out and he played with her clit.

He sighed into the kiss pulling her bottom lip into his mouth discovering his new desire for her was causing blood to rush down to his other head. As he did that she grabbed his hand and guided it back to her opening

“Yeh don't want me to play with your clit?” he smirked

She bit her lip shaking her head

“Yeh just want me fingers deep inside yeh?”

She nodded moaning as he slowly slid them in antagonizing her

His smirk turned to devious grin “Naughty” he commented before slapping her ass, his rings causing a harsher sting

She squealed laughing.

As she began to move her hips they got interrupted

“Oi! Harry!” Jeff called from the bottom of the steps

She rolled her eyes getting ready to stand up his fingers sliding out of her

“Oi!” he said looking at her tightening his grip so she couldn’t move

“We have't discuss your schedule come down mate!”

She huffed she was jealous sometimes that she had to share him with the rest of the world and selfish when their quality time got interrupted

“Be there!..Where yeh goin’?” he questioned pulling her back before plunging his fingers in her this time pushing in deeper.

She gasped instantly biting her lip, gripping his bicep

“Wasn’t done wit’ yeh” he spoke his spoke in his dominating tone. He pushed his fingers in once again with the more force.

“Oh shit!” she whispered feeling it in the pit of her stomach

“ ‘S that it?”

“Yes!” she answered softly “please” she begged as he quickened his pace. She threw her head back her breathing shallow “Please Harry!”

“Is it mine?” he asked lust now oozing out of him

She nodded

“Tell me” he commanded grabbing her neck squeezing taught

She cried out in pleasure before she responded “Yes all yours!” she breathed grabbing onto his arm for support. You could hear the sound of his fingers being thrusted against her, it was true she was more than soaked. She tried to be quiet but he was working specific nerves that only his fingers could reach. It wasn’t long before he felt her walls tightening around his fingers a slight frown formed on her face before she cried out in pleasure.

“Come’ere” he pulled her towards him leaning back on the bed kissing her with his fingers still deep in her, her orgasm still working its way through her body with the obvious trembling her legs were experiencing.

“Fuck” she whispered pulling away from his lips, trying to catch her breath

He rolled them over so that he was on top

She whimpered as his fingers slipped out of her

He looked down at her kissing her neck tenderly. He shook his head as he brought his hand up to their view “look at this!” it was covered in her essence dripping down on the bed

She blushed covering her face

“Wha’s going on wit’ yeh?” He chuckled pulling her hands away from her face

She blushed pulling him closer "I don't know"

“Open” he said bring his fingers towards her mouth she did so sucking on them eyes rolling back imagining his cock in her mouth.

He swallowed hard removing his fingers out of her mouth before kissing her one more time. He pulled away slapping her thigh “don' fall asleep on me ‘m not done with yeh” he smirked

Authors Note:

Whoo I'm dooooone. Written 10 sex scenes 10 different chapters but can't seem to complete the chapters following Bellina and Aria. I need help. lol hope this was enough. I can probably write a part two to this before I can complete the next chapters for my 2 main characters I'm sick of myself.

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avatarsarny · 7 years

Text

you be happy too, someday

A short thing I wrote for Makoto Shinkai’s stunning film Your Name. Enjoy my friends!

Her voice is pretty, Taki thinks vaguely. It’s gentle and lilting, and something about it nags at the back of his mind as if he’s heard it before, a long time ago, or perhaps in another lifetime. It’s a feeling he’d long become used to, ever since that time five years ago, when a destroyed town with a miraculously surviving population tugged at his consciousness, his very spirit. Why, why did such a place call to him so? What about this raven-haired young woman standing at the bottom of the street stairs makes him want to stop and stare at her sweet, familiar face forever?

Tears silently stream down her face as she looks at him, impossibly hopeful, as though she too had been searching as hard as he had for something, a memory that she couldn’t quite reach, couldn’t quite fathom.

He asks her name tentatively, and she asks for his, at the same time. He has an increasingly suspicious feeling he’s done this before, somewhere. Where?

The nagging in the back of his mind becomes as loud as a chime swinging right beside his ear, and suddenly, his heart skips a beat, his lungs seem to refuse to take in any air, the sun is shining far too brightly in his eyes.

“Mitsuha.” The words escape her lips first, breathlessly spoken, as if she’d been holding it inside her for years. Her eyes are wide as the open sky above them, tears brimming again and threatening to fall out, but she doesn’t blink, for fear of the whole thing being just another dream, just another echo in time.

And yet the name reverberates through Taki’s ears like the ring of a temple bell, and in the next moment, he’s drowning in yesterday.

Memories of a small lakeside town in the country wash over him, taken from what he used to think was just his imagination running away with the wind. A beautiful shrine in a forest. Waking up feeling weight on his chest he didn’t know he had before, until he decided to look down. A little sister named Yotsuha, pushing back the paper screen door to find him delirious and cupping his breasts each morning. A grandmother lovingly brushing his long, black-as-night hair, telling him about the strings of time, the God living at the top of the crater in the distance who would grant any wish, so long as he left a piece of himself behind for it. A father who gave speeches in the town center each day, a bottle of sake hidden in a cave beneath the earth.

Sayaka. Tessie. Running frantically one afternoon on the day of the Autumn Festival with them, all over town, trying to save the people from imminent death. What death?

Tears are spilling down Taki’s face, and suddenly his knees give way. He collapses at the top of the stairs, but the flood of memories doesn’t end. He doesn’t want it to. He wants to remember, wanted so badly to for so long; they held the key to his longing, an answer to a seemingly fruitless quest.

He’s standing the edge of a crater at twilight, and she’s there. Taki’s heart twists and aches at the sight of her, she’s standing right in front of him on the crater’s edge too, saying his name over and over again in that oh-so-soft voice of hers, wiping at her eyes.

“Taki-kun,” her voice echoes, her newly cut short hair gently drifting in the mountain breeze, the red woven string he’d had around his wrist now prettily tied around her head.

Their conversation, the comet, everything rushes back to him, as suddenly as a thunderstorm in midsummer.

He’s brought back to reality when he feels someone shaking his shoulder. He immediately snaps his eyes shut. But his heart sinks, he knows that when he opens them everything he remembers would be gone. He can’t forget it all again! Not after all this time!

“No, please,” he whispers sadly, “I don’t want to forget again.” Eyes still determinedly screwed shut, he blindly reaches for the hands shaking at his shoulders, tries to brush them off, so he can remember in peace.

A lilting, all-too-familiar voice sighs next to him. “Taki-kun, my grandma says it’s never a good thing to live in the past.”

His eyes fly open, and a young woman with long midnight hair is gripping his shoulders, blinking back tears and smiling at him.

“Mitsuha.” He breathes. Her name leaves his lips in an instant, as if it was an innate reflex, and not a struggle to remember, as it once had been.

Her hands slowly move across his shoulders – they were broader than she remembered, she thinks, and a lick of warmth runs down her spine – to cup his cheeks. “Taki-kun. It’s really you,” she whispers shakily, hardly daring to believe he was real.

Taki wastes no time – he pulls her into a long embrace, arms coming up to hold her tight, and she pulls him impossibly closer, feeling his warm and solid form beneath his suit, his brown hair against her hands, every bit as soft as she remembered feeling, when she was in his body.

They must be an odd sight, Taki wonders at length. Two young adults clutching at each other at the top of a staircase as if they’d die if they broke apart. But Mitsuha is here and real and he remembers her, after all this time, and he really can’t bring himself to care how they look.

“Thank you,” she murmurs against his ear. “We owe you our lives, Taki-kun. You saved us.” She squeezes him a little harder, then pulls back to meet his gaze. “I’ve been looking for you for so, so long…” she trails off, distracted by the way his eyes soften when she speaks, the way his fingers curl around hers.

“I should be thanking you,” he smiles wistfully. “You gave me another life, something different from the dull one I had.” His fingers fully intertwine with hers. “I’ve been searching for you for years, too,” he says quietly. “I don’t ever want to forget you again.”

Pink stains Mitsuha’s cheeks at his admission, but she smiles that smile again, and he almost forgets to breathe. “Me neither.” She reaches around to the red string that holds her hair up, tugs it loose, and gently takes his hand in hers to wind it back around his wrist.

“This helped me remember you after that night you told me about the comet. I didn’t remember your name, though. Not until now.” Her fingertips are warm as they tie the string, brushing gently along the back of Taki’s hand and sending shivers through him.

He draws in a sharp breath. “Won’t – won’t you forget everything without this?” he gestures to his wrist, but she shakes her head, eyes bright and sure.

“I don’t need it anymore. I – I think after the comet, our timelines converged again. You reset the clock when you drank my sake, at least for me. And now we’re here and I don’t need it to be twilight to see you, so – so I think our times are now the same,” she pauses, then giggles softly. “The God under the Mountain has been very kind to us, then. It must’ve really liked you.” She meets his eyes, and Taki flushes.

“I…I asked it for another chance,” he admits, heat creeping up the back of his neck. “Not to switch bodies again though!” he says quickly, as she laughs. “You and your whole town were gone. I wanted another chance so that you could all live. So I could finally meet you.” He looks down, at the red string on his wrist, and her fingers are still resting against his hand. He takes them in his own. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Taki-kun, on behalf of my family and Itomori, I – “

“Would you like to go for lunch?” he blurts out, and tries very hard not to inwardly cringe. Well, a tiny voice pipes up in the back of his mind, she did once say that you needed help in the dating department.

“I – oh! With me?” Mitsuha’s cheeks turn from pink to scarlet, but she quickly nods, looking slightly dumbstruck but sincere. “Yes, of course I would!”

Taki grins in relief. “What do you like to eat? I’ll go anywhere you want.” He gets to his feet and pulls her up with him.

“Italian.” Mitsuha says promptly, and he stares at her. Laughter bubbles up inside them, threatening to burst out onto the quiet Tokyo street, but they resolutely hold it in. Like a secret, inside joke between longtime friends. They both get the feeling there will be many more where that came from as the day goes on.

Taki forces himself to regain his composure, but a wide grin still tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Italian it is.”

#kimi no na wa #your name #my posts #loooong overdue but here take it

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solskinns · 4 years

Text

High Frequency Stuff; This Game

Peater has been quite considerate in showing me around the city like the locations of stores and companies. For the record, the tallest building with the word 'HOPE' at the top feels kind of ominous with its position, but I digress. The other buildings in a circle formation...or a hexagon really, seem to function as five fat floors for malls; each one having such a variety of stores and a centerpiece to every single one, (more on those later) however the ceter of all these buildings is a stadium that seems to be quite popular for some of these people.

Oh yeah, I forgot to say, the people here are actually pretty considerate despite my introverted self saying things like 'yeah' and 'thanks' as they get actual answers on a rare occasion; if it wasn't for writing for you guys, nobody would get to know me all that naturally. The people around me have a lot of colors from dark to light with their own ways to stand out! Some seem to be from the past, others seem to be from the far future, and then there's this one guy with his girlfriend that are straight up cartoon characters.

Peater makes sure to greet the people we pass by as apparently he is well known around here. Eventually, we make it to the stadium that seems to be no bigger than a baseball field without the outfield and that gets closed in with more seating to surround this dome I guess to protect the audience.

"Is that dome necessary for a sport?" I question out of concern.

"Well, YEAH because they have to stay safe from the competitors as they fight to the DEATH," He turns and stares at me with such a serious look on his face like that dome would keep us from getting any 'red water' on us...aaand then smiles in a snicker from my blank expression "I'm just kidding; the virtual effects done in the dome are super realistic to the point people complained about the mess it made...thuuus the dome was put into effect"

I manage to process his sense of humor in a nervous smile and respond "Oh, well I guess that would do it, but is that because the ball is like a mud-ball?"

Once again he looks at me strangely "a...ball? -OH this isn't any sort of ball game between teams, it's actually more of a gladiatorial battle without the last one ALIVE part"

Now he confused ME with that correction "What kind of game does a kid friendly gladiatorial battle!?"

"Wanna find out; they have a game ready to go pretty soon!" His excitement seems to show he's a big fan of it.

"Sure I suppoOOSE" Suddenly we're at the ticket booth to grab one so seats can be properly counted and it doesn't overflow.

The stage in the center was pretty big from where I was; one big square with the corners taken away in favor of entrances/exits for what I assume would be the players. The ground is panels that are definitely thick enough to take serious damage and shines as well as the dome to give off a futuristic design, after alll, chrome equals the future. There is also a few big TV screens that allow you to look up at the action closely with the score shown at the top of each one only to surround it with speakers for the announcer.

Peater notices my awe of this stadium and how cool it looks "Looks amazing, doesn't it?"

I could only nod about it as the audience seems pumped up for this match.

A droning voice comes on to quiet everyone down "I ASSUME WE HAVE MUCH EXCITEMENT TO BE HAD IN THIS GAME OF RAZOR-WAVE"

The audience can only cheer happily, knowing now it's about to start!

"VERY GOOD, NOW KEEP IT DOWN BEFORE I USE THIS DOME AS A MAGNIFYING GLASS AND CALL YOU ANTS"

The audience have a little chuckle before obeying.

...

"THIS SHALL BE A 1 ON 1 MATCH UNDER LEGAL RULES...SO YOU VETERANS ARE WELCOME TO DISTRACT YOURSELF WHILE I READ OUT HOW AN OFFICIAL GAME IS PLAYED"

A large chunk of the audience silently do just that while I give it a shot in figuring out how this is played.

...

...okay I think I get it now. So you begin with you wrist watch thing which is like a shorter-in-height-and-length brick. You place them inside a console, with the sound-chip of choice inside, and that tells the stadium and audience your experience, your chip, and the overall HP you hold. The battle is like a territory game mixed with fighting via these weapons; you can create reserves for your ability on the ground to keep it as a fair fight between 2 or more players. The battle simply ends when a player reaches 0 HP due to damage taken. Usually the 'wrist codec' is what is used in more street battles, but professional arenas like this are an exception to that norm.

"ALRIGHT, NOW THAT THAT IS SETTLED, TIME TO MOVE ON TO THE CONTESTANTS; COMING FROM HER VILLAGE THAT WOULD ALWAYS GO WITH THE FLOW WE HAVE THE SINISTER LADY FROM HER OWN LAKE, LYRA"

Out comes a girl wearing a blue full body swimsuit that covers all, but her head, hands, and feet. Her expression seems so kind, but her eyes seem to have been hardened with ambition and a no nonsense attitude! Simply put, a truly kind heart that will smash you down if you aren't careful sounds super cool!

"AND HERE IN THIS CORNER WE HAVE A HOTHEAD FROM A CITY THAT, ACCORDING TO HIS APPLICATION, CAN ONLY BE DESCRIBED AS A HORRIBLE PLACE FOR A HORRIBLE PERSON..."

Someone in that corner took offense to that one

"...HIS FAULTS ARE NOT WITHOUT MERITS OF MANY WINS HOWEVER SO PLEASE WELCOME THE INAPPROPRIATELY NAMED SCORCHER HIMSELF, PRINCE"

Something was telling me this guy that wore a white tee-shirt, blue jeans, and crazy orange hair wasn't all that much cool aside from looks. I still can't fault the guy seeming real confident in winning...a more naive smile if anything.

"CONTENDERS, PLACE YOUR CODECS HERE" a compartment opens up with a slot requiring the wrist codec things as the two players do so while the guy seems to be doing some banter before the match...I think I know who I'm rooting for.

"GO GET 'EM GOOD, LYRA!" I shout out, know the crowd drowns it out and even then the dome doesn't help much either...I think she actually heard me though because she flinched at the beginning and end of my statement to which she just nods, still looking at the guy; whoops.

"CONTENDERS, TO YOUR CORNERS" the robotic voice mentions as the console closes to lock it in place for the battle. The said contenders do just that with Lyra doing so politely while Prince does what I can only describe as a street walk while having a boombox on your shoulder...it was kinda funny to look at.

The lights then focus on the stage and the battle is about to begin

"POSITION YOURSELVES...AND...BEGIN"

Right away, Lyra makes reserves like a big moat for herself while Prince laughs it off and shoots charged fireballs her way for early damage...the fireballs unfortunately had to get past her tower of water that was too strong for the flames and couldn't break through, then, through her rythm of the literal water tower, shoots her own so quickly that the guy barely had time to react to the first 6 shots before he finally got to dodge them the best can. This causes the water archer to move out and create a patch of water territory quickly to be the size of a deep puddle on Prince's side so she can fight him with her reserves up close. She makes bigger ones while Prince tries hitting her with a pressurized punch that could hit really hard with enough buildup and it really does when she tries to tank 3 solid hits by him due to his distracting false hits! Prince eventually understands what she's doing to his field and uses a heat wave to drive her away from the area only to be hit a good 4 times by the extra reserves before she leaves, ready to finish him off at last! Lyra uses the moat and redirects it straight into Prince at one last mice to make this an early knockout

...

...but suddenly through the vapor that developed, it had shown that he was prepared with a fire wall that actually evaporated the water before it could hit him; he's definitely tougher than we give him credit for. He thus counters her beam with a slap to the ground that shows a sneaky orange and yellow light creeping towards Lyra that takes her by surprise as it hits her from being behind the moat almost directly which brings her in the red to our surprise. Now no matter what strike she makes he blocks it with the fire wall, even the shots that are nowhere near him he blocks like he's trying to catch them; his solid defense might give him the win which I now conclude he is simply passionate with his ability! All seems to be lost until Lyra seems to lure him into a trap, the fire wall only covers so much, so she charges her hand up ready to strike until he's right in the middle of it; the first puddle made on his side! She slams her hand down as hard as she can directed toward the potential GEYSER much to Prince's sudden realization as he redirects his shield to the bottom so he can take a few minor hits from the side. She knew he would do that hence why she kept the energy going for a while and slammed down at full power which was too much for the fire wall to handle, causing it to break through and smash the last of the guy's HP.

"PRINCE HAS REACHED AN HP OF ZERO, THEREFORE LYRA WINS"

The crowd agrees with the win with much enthusiasm, me included.

The sly look on her face when she faces him, helping him up, only sealed this poetic work karma!

"Man that was so amazing and intense between both sides!" Incredibly invested me says to Peater clearly feeling great to be saying 'I told you so' right now.

"I know right, I fell in love with it so quickly myself"

My excitement was so great I didn't think I can feel that invested-

"LYRA WINS ROUND ONE, BUT THAT WON'T MATTER IF PRINCE WINS TWO..."

Peater sits closer "pipe down now, it's time to see the next round"

Wait wait no...no

"RESETTING THE STADIUM AND COMMENCING THE SECOND ROUND"

There's...there's

"BATTLERS SET...GO!!!"

My voice caught the crowd in my realization I was now going to DIE here "THERE'S MOOOOOOORE?!?"

*CUT*

I figured this one could play out like a mini-episode or pilot with the expressions I gave this one. Though, just to clarify, even if this is storytelling, I act natural and how I would react to things; it's still ME, but still a story to tell. Lastly, to anyone who is curious about the game...more on that for the next week! Bye guuuys, till we meet again!

#Solskinns #Omni-Peater #Razor-wave #You got questions about the game #I can provide some answers #You want to know more about this city #I do too...yup #References to some other works I do #This is a lot like the Cartoon Network city #That one's for 2000s kids

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omgnsfwisnsfw-blog · 5 years

Text

5: Nice Catch!

The housekeeper had drawn the short straw on Sunday morning. It was 10am and thus time for the occupants of these motel rooms to vacate. She went through the motions as she pushed her cart of cleaning chemicals, rags, and motel room necessities (including a spice candle she liked to light to drive away any of the more pungent odors) down the row. Her ‘gold’ name tag that read Mary glimmered in the sunlight. Something out of the ordinary made her pause the music streaming from her cellphone. Room 126’s door was completely open. The sturdy door’s bronze chain clattered against it in the gentle breeze. She apprehensively peeked inside. The room was as if no one had been in here at all. It was a total reset. The bed was neatly made. No wet towels on the floor. No suspicious tissues in the trash bin. Just nothing out of normal. Except that wasn’t totally true. She observed that the right hand side night stand drawer was open and its previous contents were missing. John’s favorite shoes hit the pavement - one in front of the other - and very carefully inside the solid white line that separated him from thousands of pounds of steel repeatedly passing him. His blue gym bag swung too and fro from his side in rhythm to his steps. It had been three days since he had turned over the vehicle into the hands of Mike Maguire. She had told him that there was a motel about two miles from her shop and offered to call him a ride. He had declined in a polite fashion, left her his phone number, and departed on foot. He disappeared into the darkness and perhaps Mike wondered if she was suffering from a fever. From there, he went inwards. The book with no cover ended up being rather trite. A love story with very little love at all. He would have probably guessed that the cover was illustrated to show a man with long luxurious blonde locks and chiseled bare chest. Perhaps on a horse. There was a lot of allusions to animals in there - rutting like animals, it said. John closed the book and tossed it back into his bag with little thought. On the second day of seclusion, someone who represented his employer, the mustached man, insisted that they were onto something. The previous session had netted over two million views and a whirlwind of positivity - ultimately they clamored for more. In the text message, he provided credentials for an official account and that he should just go live every once in a while and tell the world what he was thinking about. John didn’t understand why anyone would care but he wasn’t about to argue at this point. Nothing came to him that day but on the third day, his mind opened up with something to share. The shop’s sign was now just in view as he pressed the little F icon and then the button to go ‘live’. The picture from the phone’s camera jumped up and down as held it front of his face at arm’s length. “Good morning all.” A semi-truck whizzed past him - a little close for comfort. He danced sideways off of the pavement all while trying to maintain the shot. “Maybe this isn’t very safe to do. Anyway, I am on my way to see you all and I wanted to make more of an effort to share myself.” John stepped back onto the pavement and continued walking towards the shop. He had contemplated what just to say. John was listening to them. So far they said the same thing and as always it was a total character assassination. John had built the garden for that very purpose and as much as he liked to visit — there was only one way in. “Combat sports are no doubt fueled by aggression and so it is no surprise that the overwhelming traits are anger and hatred for one’s fellow man. So I am sorry that a warrior feels the way that he does. I hope that he finds peace in his soul. What he said was meant to provoke a response. And so I ask everyone I am sharing this with now, what should I say? Should I dispute what he said? Should I jump to the defense of the other man in this equation?” John shook his head. “There really isn’t the need. There is only one thing I need to convince him of. He needs to ask himself what truly will be the intrinsic entertainment value of what could happen that night? Will the boredom seep through his body as both of his carotid arteries are compressed? What will his mind consider enjoyable as it goes through cerebral ischemia? And through that would he learn a great lesson: if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” The corner of his mouth turned up into a brief smirk before returning to his normal … almost blank expression. “Today and what it is — well that is not lost on me and I don’t want to waste any more of your time so I will leave you with this: A deer cannot eat hay. I found that interesting.” John turned off the live feed and pocketed his phone. He quickly crossed the road and entered the parking lot of the auto body shop. He observed that the only car in the front lot was a loud yellow sports car. It had white fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view mirror. He had received a voicemail yesterday afternoon about the completion of a repair but hadn’t felt like communicating with anyone that day. He pulled on the handle of the shop door and surprisingly it opened. He hadn’t noticed the other day the loud chime that was omitted throughout the shop when the door was opened and faintly he could hear the same noise echoing throughout the attached garage. He set his gym bag on the red plastic chair and waited patiently with his hands in his jeans pockets. A voice cut through the silence, “Ay, we’re not open today. This an emergency?” John thought about that for a moment and posed in a raised but still calm tone, “What really constitutes an emergency?” “Oh, it’s you…” A few moments passed. He could hear metal clanking and finally the owner of the shop entered the shop floor. She was not in uniform and instead wore the same baseball cap, a green and white jersey with the number 3 on it, a pair of oil-stained baggy jeans, and a pair of work boots. How come you’re just comin’ in now? Messaged you yesterday.” “Your door was open.” “Yeah, that was my bad. Forgot to lock it after me.” “I can come back tomorrow. I didn’t realize what day it was until a little while ago,” for John, time seemed to blur and it was difficult to understand that other people kept different schedules than him. “Nah, you’re fine. Just wasn’t expectin’ much of a rush today, so I took the opportunity to just catch up on some stuff around here.” John looked at her with a blank expression perhaps not understanding the ebb and flow of small talk, “I read a book this morning. I never really liked it before but his last message certainly was inspiring. He said to spread the good news to everyone and everywhere.” The woman looked at him in a confused manner before smiling at him and then to the area where she kept all of the completed work orders. She looked back up at John as she found the clear folder with the order and keys, “Anywho. Your car’s all shipshape an’ seaworthy. Was about three hours work, so… seventy-five for the rim repair, same for a new tire, and ninety per hour for yours truly… I’ll call it an even four hundred. Just try to be more careful in the future, yeah? That coulda been a heckuva lot worse. Could’ve wrecked your axle, not to mention your whole suspension.” John reached into the envelope and dumped the remaining contents of it onto the counter: 12 one dollar bills, 1 quarter, and three pennies. John looked at the funds and then back up at Mike. He guessed that the rest of his bonus had gone towards the motel room, “That’s, uh, what I have.” “Well, I take credit, you know. You got a Visa? MasterCard? Anything like that?” John held up one finger to Mike and then retrieved his wallet. He held it open. On the forefront, it contained only his recently issued New Mexico driver’s license. He slipped his fingers under the clear holder and retrieved a credit card. “This card has credit for a free meal at Shoney’s. They burnt my toast last week. I think it’s only good for the one in Fort Myers.” “Hmm,” She tapped her chin, a slightly wry smile slowly crossed her lips, “What were you doin’ out there?” “Well, having breakfast.” “At Shoney’s, yeah. But what else? Sure you didn’t go all the way down there just for toast an’ jam with Shoney Bear.” “Oh, I started a new job. I haven’t officially got paid yet and I don’t know if I’m very good at it. They gave me that envelope a few days ago in Atlanta but I think they were handing them out to everyone.” That wry smile grew just a bit bigger, a spark of recognition flashing in her eyes. “You, um, mind tellin’ me what that new job is? Just outta curiosity.” “I fight people…” John said that quietly, “ … I have to be in Pittsburgh next. I’m a little early, sure, but I don’t mind,” at this point he started to talk himself as if the orange-haired woman was not there,“and they said I should open a bank account but I’m not sure that I would like that very much. It’s almost like it doesn’t exist. How can I trust 0s and 1s?” “I thought so,” that wry smile turned into a bit of a warmer one, a kind smile that seemed both clashing and complementary to the woman’s rough exterior, “I think I know who you are. Saw you on the internet. That video was freakin’ great. And… heh. I used to fight people too. We got that much in common.” He pointed at the picture above her. “So that’s you?” She gave a big fat grin. “Yep.” “Cool,” John looked at the bill nervously, “So I don’t have any way to pay this but I signed a piece of paper and they have to give me more if I show up I think. I know this sounds lame but can I get an IOU?”he reached into the wallet and lifted out a pair of tickets stamped ‘Monday Night Brawl’ where the money would be, “oh, they gave me these. I don’t know why I got these because I’m going to be working there. Maybe if you show up I can pay you after its over.” “Sweet! Okay, Mister Bishop Church, you got yourself a deal. But you better not try an’ welch on me. I got a punch that can lay out guys bigger than YOU,” she grinned playfully. He slid the tickets over the counter. She grabbed them, looked at them intently, and slipped them in her back pocket. “Your ride’s around back. I’ll go unlock the gate for ya.” She fished out the keys from the clear folder and tossed the keys to John. He snatched them out of the air with one hand. “Nice catch!” He grabbed his gym bag from the chair and slung it over his shoulder. And once again, John followed Mike out.

#Archive

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