#i think i just broke AO3. the site kicked me off before I could post the last chapter

[bagheerita]

I finished cross posting all my AFF fics to AO3 and apparently I've written over a million words. 😳

#my writing #dont read them theyre not good. i was going to try to do some editing but #AFF botched my password reset and hasn't responded to emails so im shut out of my account and annoyed. so now im just done with them #ok i wish AO3 had a way to post a multichapter fic all at once. posting each chapter individually is a PITA #i think i just broke AO3. the site kicked me off before I could post the last chapter

[theglamorousferal]

The Cryptid of Smallville

I am posting the first couple chapters of the fic that I am currently working on juuuust in case AO3 goes down again. In the next couple days I’ll start posting some of my wips that I don’t think I’ll finish. If any of them inspire people to write more then I’ll be happy. 

I had the thought a while ago about what if Danny was raised alongside Clark Kent and the hijinks that would result in Danny being near the liminal space that is cornfields. These are basically a series of connected one-shots because I am not that great at trying to do a real plot lol

Without further ado, here’s the first chapter of the Cryptid of Smallville! (Small edit: here’s the link to AO3 the first two chapters are there)

______________________________________________________________ The night sky was clear and open above the cornfields as a gentle breeze caused the plants to stir. It was a calm night on the Kent family farm. A streak of neon green broke across the sky and landed in the middle of the fields, purple tinged smoke wafting from the crash site. A boy of about six rolled over in his sleep, glowing green eyes glancing at the stars above framed by smoke. The gentle breeze is still blowing, returning the night to calm.

*****

Danny was gonna put Clockwork in soup time whenever he got back into the Zone. 

He was laying there, staring at the clouds in the sky, surrounded by corn, and only about three and a half feet tall, wondering where in the Realms he was. Clockwork had said something about sending him off somewhere with people who could handle a child with powers growing up before tossing him through a portal by the ankle. He had ended up in low orbit and was lulled to sleep by staring at the stars he is so fond of.

Crawling out of the hole he was in, he examined the surrounding area and just found a bunch of burnt and slightly smoldering corn and kicked up dirt. The gentle breeze brought the smell of bacon to his nose and he floated to look just above the tall plants around him. He spots a house in the distance and starts heading there, making sure to walk the last few yards just in case this isn’t where CW intended him to go. He finds himself stumbling from the field just to make eye contact with a man pulling on his work boots for the day on the porch steps, the man freezes. 

“Hey Martha?” The man yells into the house.

“Yes Jon?” a voice muffled from the door yells back.

“Do we have a spare room done up?” the man, Jon, asks, not taking his eyes off Danny.

“Why? Are you expecting someone and forgot to tell me?” the voice sounds like it’s getting closer to the door.

“No honey, I think we may have a repeat situation of Clark though.” He briefly glances from Danny up to the last bits of smoke wafting from the field. A quiet “What?” comes from the house. He gentles his voice, full attention on Danny. “Hey son, did you have a bit of an accidental landing in the corn? Is your head okay? Are your parents around?”

Danny stays still for a moment thinking about what’s going on. The man seems to at least suspect that he crash landed on his property and mentioned something about something like this happening before. Have these people dealt with a random child appearing at their house before? Specifically one that crashed from the sky? He has many questions, but he should probably answer Jon first. 

“Yeah, I got sent away until I was better, my head doesn’t hurt at all and my parents are not exactly from around here, and don’t know where I am.” He pauses thinking about it. “Does the children-crashing-onto-your-farm-thing happen a lot to you?”

Jon chuckled as he finished tying his boots up and walked down the stairs just as the door opens and a woman in an apron is standing there looking surprised to see an unknown child standing in her yard. The man crouches down in front of Danny, giving him a once-over. 

“You’d be surprised, now what’s your name son?.”

“It’s Danny Fenton, what’s yours?”

“Jon Kent, my wife over there is Martha. Now you look like you could use a good meal and a washup, how’s that sound?” Jon grins at Danny and musses up his hair before standing and offering a hand to walk into the house. He smiles over at Martha who blinks and then gives Danny a warm smile, standing aside to let them enter the house.

“Good thing I made some extra breakfast then, let’s get some food in you young man, you’re as skinny as a post!” She smiles and heads towards the kitchen. “Be sure to wash up your hands first hun, can’t eat with dirty hands! And Jon! What have I told you about your muck boots being in the house! I’m sure Danny can find his way and wash his own hands; second door on the right hun; and git outta my house with those things on, I’ll have more coffee ready for you once you feed the animals!” Jon pouted and trudged his way out of the house.

Danny smiled a little to himself as he looked for the door Martha was talking about, noting the wallpaper and decor that looked like every midwest farmer’s house he’d seen in any piece of media ever. After washing his hands he made his way to where he could hear soft humming and dishes being washed. He saw a plate of pancakes and bacon on the table next to a glass of orange juice, a glass of milk, and a container of syrup and headed to the spot.

“Thank you Mrs. Kent.” he said from his seat and she smiled back at him, going back to the dishes. Danny realized he’d probably have to start explaining what he could to them soon, but decided to focus on the breakfast in front of him. The breakfast that wasn’t alive and currently trying to kill him. He nearly cried.

“So Danny,” Martha began as she wiped her hands off with a dish rag. “Do you remember how it is you got here?” She joined him at the table with a cup of coffee after setting a mug, a spoon and the sugar bowl next to the machine for her husband when he came in.

“I do, it’s a really weird story though, I’m not sure you’ll believe me.” He was hesitant, he still wasn’t sure these were the people that Clockwork meant to send him to. Though they’ve taken the whole crash-landed-child-thing pretty well… Screw it, he’ll see if he can wait until Jon comes back and explain to both of them. “Can we wait for Mr. Kent too? I don’t really want to say it twice.” 

She smiled at him, taking a sip of her coffee and then nodded. “That’s fine hun, he shouldn’t be more than a couple minutes unless the rooster decided to pick a fight again.” she chuckled to herself, looking out of the window while drinking her coffee. She sees the faint trail of smoke rising in the sky outside and her eyebrows pinch in worry. “You didn’t happen to see anythin’ burning when you got up, did you?” 

Danny glances out the window and sees the smoke. “Oh no, there was just a little bit still smoldering in the hole, but there wasn’t anything actively burning. I can show you both when I finish explaining what I can.” The slapping of a screen door startles him and Jon walks in, heading straight for the coffee maker and making himself a cup, then joining them at the table.

“So Danny-boy, what can you tell us?” Jon gives his full attention to Danny. 

Danny shifts in his seat, looking every part the six year old he appeared to be, uncertain at the attention of two adults. “Well, it’s a long story and kinda out there? I’m not sure how much you’ll believe?” He looks uncertain at the pair across from him who share a look. Martha reaches across the table to take Danny’s hand.

“Honey, you wouldn’t believe the stuff we’re used to, I’m sure it’s fine.”

Danny only hesitated a moment longer and then sighed looking far older than his apparent six years. “So to start off with, wherever this is, I’m not from around here. I’m assuming since you both speak English that this is still Earth, but maybe not MY Earth, I’m still a bit confused on the whole ‘multiverse’ thing, but either way, I got sent here until some stuff got sorted out and so I’ll be here until it does.” He was rambling, he knew, but he’s kind of anxious about stuff. “I kinda got put in my childhood body and now I have to get back to my actual age and my Guardian said something about time here running differently than in my dimension before he just chucked me through a portal. He did say he was sending me to people who could handle my weirdness as I age, so I’m assuming you are them and maybe have some experience with kids with freaky weird stuff happening to them?”

The Kents once more shared a look, this one a little longer than the last, then turned back to Danny. “Oh son, I think you’ll fit in just fine. So, how long can we expect you for? I can tell you’re probably a lot older than six judging by how you talk?”

Danny blinked at him, trying to process the fact that they didn’t seem phased and rather seemed like they believed him. “Uh, I was sixteen, so I guess a decade? I’m sorry to impose on you for a while, really I can figure out stuff on my own, I don’t want to be a bother.”

Jon chuckled “Oh trust me son, it wouldn’t be an issue, I’m sure Clark would love a younger brother, or at the very least a friend who understands him. We have plenty of room here, and though we’d probably ask you for help with chores, we’d be glad to have you for however long you need.”

Danny blinks again at them. They weren’t serious, right? They just seem fine taking in a random child and having him live with them for however long. And who was this Clark? What did he mean by younger brother?

“Clark?” he asked hesitantly.

“Oh right, our son, you’ll meet him when he gets home from school, I’m sure you’ll get along just fine! Now Danny, let me show you to a room and we can get you settled, we’ll probably have to head on over to the thrift shop to get you something to wear besides these charred and muddy pj’s, but we should have something from Clark that’s too small that’ll fit you for now.” Martha took his hand and led him upstairs to where he’d be in apparently his new home.

*****

Clark had had a pretty boring day at school. The classes were boring. He had to hold back in gym class again and when studying the skeletal system in biology, he started studying the teacher’s bones instead of the display skeleton or the worksheet. He was really looking forward to getting home and maybe going for a fly around the fields where no one could see him or maybe catching the latest episode of Rescue Rangers. 

He could spot his house in the distance and after looking around to make sure no one would see him, he sped down the driveway as fast as he could, knocking up a lot of dirt in the process. He really liked going fast, whether running or flying. He just loved the wind in his hair. 

“Ma, Pa, I’m home.” he kicked his sneakers off and rushed upstairs into his room to drop off his bag. He listened around for heartbeats and realized that Pa was out on the tractor and Ma was out with the chickens. He froze as he heard a much closer sound though. It was very slow and faint, but he could hear another heartbeat in the house. Even more, he could hear someone muttering to themselves in the guest room and the flipping of pages.

Clark slowly made his way down the hall towards the sound and peaked in the room with his x-ray vision. There, sitting on the ceiling, was a child about half his age reading a ratty old book about space. Clark stood in the doorway, now able to see him in regular vision and just stared at him. He took a moment until he decided to just join him up there and sat across from him.

“So who are you?” Clark asked while the kid was still focused on his book. He didn’t even look up from the book.

“Name’s Danny.” The kid paused for a second before he looked up and stared at Clark. Danny looked from Clark to the ceiling, to the floor, and then back to Clark. “Oh, so that’s why they said I’d fit right in here. I guess we are pretty similar! I’m guessing you’re Clark then?” The child beamed at him, putting out his hand to shake. Clark took it gently, not wanting to hurt the kid. Then the kid gripped his hand tight and Clark realized that they have more in common than he thought and gripped his hand tighter in response.

“So where are you from?” Clark asked, very curious as to how this kid who could fly and had his strength, but also had almost no heartbeat ended up at his house. Danny rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, I’m not from this Earth and I kinda got put here to recover for a long while and my Guardian decided your parents are the best equipped to handle a kid growing up with powers, so he sent me here. I’m guessing because of you?” 

“Yeah, mine started manifesting around your age. What powers do you have? How long do you plan to be here? Where are you from? You said this wasn’t your Earth, I’m guessing you’re from a different dimension then? That’s so cool!” Clark, ever curious, shot off many questions rapid fire and Danny laughed while answering them all as best he could.

Part 2

#Danny Phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #superman #clark kent #danny fenton #danny is a cryptid #cryptids #de-aged danny #ma kent #pa kent

[thejudgingtrash]

Annabeth is a good person,but not a nice or pleasant one,IMO.

YES.

That’s it. That’s the post. Pack it up everybody, we just cracked the case and cleared up one of the most compelling fights in the PJO fandom since forever. Good job everybody, clap it out and there’s the door! Don’t forget ordering the drinks at Starbucks, Mitch! They’re on me!

Okay, but on a more serious note: YES. YES EXACTLY.

And before some of you roll your eyes or grab your pitchforks – put your biases aside and hear me out for once. I like Annabeth. She’s my in my top three characters only second to Percy himself. I love Percabeth. It’s my favorite ship in the entire series and to be frank, the only ship that I care about PJO wise. Hell, I spend my time creating my own headcanons or writing my own fanfics with Percabeth being the star in them.

But that is not to say that I’m unable to see how certain things have developed over the years or where they stand now in regard to Annabeth. I’m not here to ignore things that have been said and/or done due to or in the name of Annabeth and I’m not here to vilify anyone that doesn’t like her. And I’m here to admit that I’m guilty of some of the things that may be addressed in this meta essay that you will read in just a second. However, I try my best to assure you, that I’m for once able to recognize my own bias.

Warning: a monster essay lies right upon you.

This should count as a paper of its own.

Back to the statement on top: I would go out even further to reframe your claim, anon:

Annabeth Chase is a good character but not a nice or pleasant person.

Annabeth is a wonderful character but she isn’t a nice one. Or at least not nice to everyone. She is (construction wise if I dare say) the best character out of the series. She has her positive traits (she’s caring, she’s emotional, she’s encouraged and volunteers, she fights for what she believes in, she forgives (even if doing so begrudgingly)) but she also has her negative traits (she’s stubborn, she’s brash, changing her mind takes forever, she is prejudiced, she baits others). That balances things out. She is branded as the intelligent kid but does irrational things (like I’ve just said a) she’s a kid and b) she’s not a robot). She should probably know better, but we all make mistakes and hopefully grow and learn from them. The clouds in the sky do blur and cover our visions sometimes.

Annabeth had clashes with other characters or was about to have fights due to her stubbornness or jealousy (Rachel, Reyna, etc.) and has of course her problems with the mortal world and her family but she also found new friends, some things cleared up throughout the narration and she was/is quite popular in Camp Half-Blood.

The thing is: she doesn’t have to be nice or pleasant (as a character). Or at least not all the time. Her character is humanized. That is what or who she is. Human. She does stand out as a character, not just because she’s the (future) love interest. She feels like someone you could meet in real life and either adore from the top to the bottom or declare as your biggest enemy. And that’s totally okay if you lean either way – liking or disliking her. Or even feeling indifferent about her. Also great!

To say that she has been the best character that Riordan has crafted is easy to say, because she has been sculpted after Riordan’s wife. He had a model he could rub some of real-life events or traits on. That’s not the problem. The problem truly doesn’t lie on Riordan’s side for the most part for once.

The problem is inherently on the fandom’s side. What the fandom does, how it acts and how it treats Annabeth as a character is the problem. The problems vary but it’s mostly the mischaracterization of Annabeth, starting fights and fan/ship wars, internalized misogyny (in some cases) and how some of the Annabeth stans lash out (ha, got firsthand experience in that field among many of my friends and mutuals!). There is a reason why many people are wary of people that have Annabeth or Percabeth related URLs.

The fact that we see Annabeth mostly through Percy’s lens and (until the Heroes of Olympus saga hits) we never really see her in chill everyday situations is essentially Riordan leaving the back door of the house open, ready for all of you asshats to rob his mansion in Boston. Because a frame on a character means that we don’t get to see the character in its entirety (unlike we do with Percy in PJO for the most part). That means a bunch of stuff is left open for interpretation which is the reason why Annabeth gets so many polarized headcanon and opinions tossed around. I think that is one of the true appeals of Annabeth. You can add on stuff and it necessarily doesn’t have to contradict itself.

We have people calling her abusive due to a (n admittedly stupid and unnecessary) judo flip and we have people that act like she’s never done anything wrong. People sorta use this excuse to form and shape Annabeth however they want and distort her characterization.

People in the fandom act like Annabeth is some weird prized possession. We perceive Annabeth mostly through the eyes of others (Percy, Apollo, etc.) and when we had some sort of insight in her ways (MOA, HOH) it felt… weird? Somewhat? Like Riordan left two bullet points of her characterization and told the ghostwriter: aight, fuck it up, gringo, see you on Tuesday and greet Fred the next time you see him for me. 

There have been many posts lately (by Tharini, Simi, Sawasawako, Jewishpercy and Annie I believe?) that HOO Percabeth felt weird. That they felt weirdly constructed, that there was no conflict, no growth. It felt stagnating, like we’re turning back. We had five books prior where we had Annabeth and Percy slowly shifting from disliking to liking and crushing each other. True development. And when we finally got the cake it felt… dissatisfying. Like the cheap box stuff and not the delicious exquisite taste that we were promised.

I said it previously in my Percabeth ship roast, but let me repeat myself: many Percabeth related things are straight up fanon. Some of it is very old fanon so that’s been unable to distinguish unless you’ve read the books recently and subtract nearly 99,9% of things you see on Tumblr (and occasionally the other shitty parts of the fandom like Reddit, IG, Twitter. Although they mostly steal and recycle tumblr stuff oh well. But back to the topic).

The way people treat Annabeth is so strange. She’s either an innocent fluffy smush baby that’s never harmed a fly and all that she wants for Christmas is being Percy’s lapdog or she’s the devil incarnate, broke into your house, killed your parents Batman style, kicked your puppy and didn’t flush the toilet on the way out. I think this is what mostly makes people hate her or the ship Percabeth. And both extremes are wrong and right at the same time? She is multifaceted so both stereotypes are true and untrue and sorta cancel each other out in the same way.

The true reason why people dislike Annabeth is because the stans are doing the most. (The haters as well, don’t get me wrong, but oh boy. Piss of a stan and you’ll know what I mean). That isn’t inherently new. Are you guys old enough to remember the ship wars that have happened cross platform? Perachel vs. Percabeth? Oh boy, oh boy. I saw some kids on tumblr a few months ago trying to infiltrate both tags and start shit (and also fail). The fact that Rachel still gets used as the bitchy (ex) girlfriend in fanfics? It’s 2020 guys. I know this apocalyptic year is far from perfect and over but I think we can let this trope die, right? Right? I thought we’ve established that Rachel is a pretty chill charcter by now… right?

If you posted your stuff on FFN back in 2010-2013 and it wasn’t the typical cutesy Percabeth story (Goode High, the gods read TLT, punk/prep Percabeth, college AU, etc.) people would’ve come for your fucking throat. Not because the story or the narration was shit. But because the pairing wasn’t Annabeth and Percy (in the sense that Annabeth had to be paired with Percy. I mean Percy gets shipped with everyone and their mother but for Annabeth it was strictly Percy. As annoying as this whole Connabeth thing is – the people behind it actually had a point. She never had a different love interest unless it’s a Percy centered story and he goes off dating Athena, Artemis and Zoe at the same time for some odd reason. Yeah, FFN Percy ships are something). Or it wasn’t the action filled canon compliant story or it wasn’t an AU that was popular.

People were really stubborn, snobbish and wanted their stuff in the four five boxes that were the most popular ones and that’s it. People have been bullied off the site in many fandoms, so it’s not a PJO-only thing but it’s still sad that it happened. (Off-note: most of these FFN tropes are still alive and well and thriving on AO3. Don’t be so snobbish and pretend that every piece you’d find there is a holy grail. There’s a lot of trash you have to waddle through. Same with Wattpad, Tumblr or anywhere else where fanfics get posted. Also had this discussion with Annabeth stans. Sigh).

And Tumblr back then? Forget it, wasn’t much better.

That view has sorta changed (at least for people that have been in the fandom for several years or have managed to find a way to navigate through it) but some of the negative sentiment from back in the day has survived. Be it by new fans coming in or from old fans that never let their stance die. The aggression feels differently and somewhat not. (I don’t know if the anon function had been abused that much back in the day. I was an observer not a participant in the fandom).

Crack a joke at Annabeth’s expense (Kal’s famous “Annabeth is a Republican” post or Dee Dee’s and many others “Annabeth has the education of a second grader, chill with the college plans, girlie” stance) and you have people insulting you, making callout posts, unfollowing and blocking you (based on only that? Okay, honey), making aggressive counter-posts, etc. in a minute. If you respond with “It’s a joke, it’s not real” you have a 50/50 chance of either getting blown off or embarrassing them so that they apologize for once.

This isn’t just about jokes. You can make a headcanon that’s not the cozy cute convenient mainstream saga and people would react the same way. Or art piece (no, not including the whole Tannabeth Blackchase shtick done by Viria and others) or fanfics.

People project so much onto the unfinished canvas that is Annabeth Chase that any form of negative sentiment as little as someone not liking her to straight up criticism, regardless of how tiny it may be, seems like an affront. Like an invitation to a fight. Like an insult to them, their character, everything they believe in. Let me state something:

You are NOT Annabeth Chase. Annabeth Chase IS NOT you. Annabeth Chase is NOT real. Her feeling cannot be hurt. Someone criticizing, disliking, joking about her or even insulting her will not bother her. Someone making a statement about her is not an insult to YOU.

Let me repeat that:

Annabeth Chase isn’t real. Annabeth Chase isn’t you.

So think a little before you act? I get it when you’re a kid and new to fandoms or haven’t been up with fan cultures in the past and are back in the scene. But if you’re in your late teens or even older as an adult and you’re unable to understand that you aren’t what you like – you aren’t the extension of a fictional character – I feel incredibly sorry for you. Because that’s just incredibly sad. Someone disliking something you like isn’t an attack of your character. It shows you that you are you and the other person is a human just like you. That they just have different taste. Disliking something you like isn’t a crime, you know? But me feeling sorry for the way some of y’all act won’t mean that that’s even remotely okay. Especially if you’re no longer in the intended audience for PJO age wise and should know better.

This isn’t a “white stans” only thing. I’ve seen and witnessed firsthand how people of color, mainly women of color, act the same or not even worse when it comes to her character. People have projected their problems and real-life occurring events into her character (I’m sure that she isn’t the only character nor that this is the only fandom where this is happening) and in some cases like I’ve said cannot separate their own personality from the fictional world. Fights with woc happened because of Annabeth fucking Chase. So many things have happened in the fandom the past few months, mostly due to people being forced staying at home because of the quarantine but I’d say it’s 10% on quarantine and 90% on people for acting up like this.

So here’s a little story: There was the act of Riordan blowing the fandom up because of his own stupidity and being unable to apologize for his mischaracterization and lack of research (the whole Piper fiasco) back in June (?) and admits the upset fandom, people on Twitter, Tumblr and Discord legit thought that none of that mattered and that the outcry was destroying Annabeth Chase’s birthday. That’s right. People thought that Annabeth Chase’s non-existing birthday because she’s a fictional character had a higher priority than the rupture and prevalent racism in the fandom. Okay. This isn’t a great look, Annabeth stans. And this of course pissed a lot of people off. I made a post about it and someone not only berated three other people on said post but no, we had a mighty argument which had disrupted many friendships in our circle which haven’t recovered until this very day. We both had our parts in it and no one is innocent. But the cause of this still remains Annabeth Chase or how people prioritize her non-existing well-being. Anyway. I’m getting agitated just thinking about it.

Let’s go back to the characterization thing with Annabeth. Let me remind you:

Annabeth Chase is an asshole. There I’ve said it in a post ages ago (too lazy to look it up, sorry) and I’ll say it again. And that’s not me insulting her. That’s me actually loving that about her. Annabeth is one of the very few unapologetic female characters that really showed all young readers across the world that you can be a girl, a badass, smart, strong, standing up for yourself and what you believe in. You don’t have to be nice. You don’t have to hide your feelings. You don’t need a man in all cases but it’s also okay to accept help and defeat.

A large reason why I think she’s an incredibly important character in children’s literature/YA because many other novels (mostly (sadly)) have the “Oh, I’m a white skinny dark-haired girl that likes unconventional things like READING. I’m not like the other girls, that take care of themselves and pamper themselves by enjoying shopping and wearing make-up. No, I’d rather be one of the boys but a sweet cute little boy and not the jock fuck that drank vodka shots out of a filthy shoe once. Despite me calling myself hideous every man in a 10-kilometer radius falls in love with me and tells me I’m oh so sexy and by the way I’m only 16 years old” shit going on for no goddamn reason.

Yes, I do blame Twilight for this mostly in recent years, but this trope isn’t by any means knew. Pretty sure that you could even use classics as Pride and Prejudice and dissect them in the same manner (Bold statement: Lizzy Bennet is the OG Bella Swan. There. Go fight somewhere in the corner, people). The new wave of YA focuses on girls belittling themselves and only starting to believe in themselves because someone else (mostly the male love interest) tells them they’re worth it. And these books hit the mainstream because they’re incredibly bland and picture perfect white.

With Annabeth it’s different. She shows up for the job and is done with it. (Brie Larson would probably be the perfect in real life version of her. You either like or dislike her. Or you really don’t care). That is what is so refreshing about her. Her unapologetic nature. Can it be off-putting? Yes. Is it annoying? Yes! Hell, every time I read The Lightning Thief, I want to rip her goddamn head off. And it’s just so well written. Her shift from mistrusting Percy but secretly still believing in him to her opening up. Wow, Riordan did something right there.

Annabeth Chase isn’t a young character. She has existed along with PJO for 15 years. She’s on her way to the second decade. I’m pretty sure that with the success of Percy Jackson (and Harry Potter) many lives have been warped and shaped.

But when I say the problem lies mostly in the fandom, it doesn’t mean that Riordan’s completely innocent. The only problem that I have with Annabeth lies not truly with her but the fact that Riordan is only able to produce three variations of female characters:

The sweetheart (Hazel, Silena, Calypso, Hestia)

The strong feminist (Annabeth, Piper, Thalia, Reyna, Artemis)

The bitch (Drew, nearly every female goddess in the goddamn Riordanverse next to every female monster)

And these female characters only know three endings:

End up married with a mortgage, three kids, two dogs and a cat somewhere in Connecticut by the age of twelve

Get dumped into the hunt

Chill on Mount Olympus and only come down to be a nuisance and/or give a cryptic message before going back and doing a godly rave party or something

We know Annabeth as the badass strong female first (or the bitchy character we’re supposed to actually like. Choose your approach), the blueprint so to speak, so some of the other characters feel almost pale in comparison and almost not needed? Doesn’t mean that other characters can’t behave similarly, but it feels kind of redundant especially if their character arcs end in a rather anticlimactic way (Thalia, Reyna). The new additions are the much needed woc as the main story with PJO was inherently white (anyway stan black!Percy and Grover, folks). So it’s not to bash on the new characters, it’s more Riordan’s fault more than anything.

Since Riordan only knows three female character arcs it feels like he tried to copy the formula several ways with different nuances. Some more or less successful. This is where fandom actually comes in handy and helps create more distinguished and fleshed out characters in form of headcanons or fanfiction.

But even in these cases people still make it about Annabeth when it’s time for characters of colors to shine. Remember that whole spiel and discussion that broke out when people (Kal, diver-up, Caitlyn, Bee, reynaisalesbian, etc.) joked about or criticized that Annabeth thinks that she’s having it harder because she’s a blonde? In front of Hazel and Piper? If she would’ve been a real person that’s an invitation for getting decked. And then all hell broke loose because Annabeth stans couldn’t accept the fact that in the real world and/or in fictional worlds the woc/coc have it harder? That the white woman wasn’t the victim that needed the coddling? Yeah, that was mad pathetic.

I hope you people get my point?

Well fuck. I wrote so many things and have the feeling I’ve said nothing. Anyway, I hope I made sense. This is way too long.

TLDR: Chill about Annabeth please. She’s an important character but that doesn’t mean that everyone has to like her, regardless of being a character in the books or a reader/fan of PJO in real life. She isn’t nice or a sweetheart all the time. She also isn’t the monstrous asshole that some try to make out of her.

Peace out.

#Mel answers #pjo #percy jackson #Annabeth chase #percy jackson and the olympians #Percabeth #pjo Meta #Heroes of olympus #hoo #trials of apollo #toa #hazel levesque #piper mclean #reyna avila ramirez arellano #rachel elizabeth dare #pjo fandom #coc #rick riordan #riordanverse

[jaskierswolf]

Please can I have some lambden ice hockey au?? opposing sides doing the cuddle thing, flirting at all the interviews, Aiden writes their fanfic...whatever you'd like to include! 💖

Also on AO3 - A sort of Sequel to my Geraskier Ice Skating AU that I wrote for the lovely @marvagon. You don’t need to have read that to understand this!

Words: 771 - Lambden.

________

A fight broke out on the rink. Geralt had taken on one of the Cats over something stupid. Lambert rolled his eyes and skated towards Aiden. They crashed into each other, arms wrapped tightly to stop themselves from falling over. It was the third time this had happened in the game so far and they were still pretty early on. What was even weirder was that Lambert hadn’t started any of the fights.

“Geralt! What the fuck, man?” Lambert hissed as he clung onto the man he absolutely definitely didn’t have a crush on.

Geralt didn’t respond but as he spun round on the ice Lambert could see he was smirking. The bastard had definitely done this on purpose. Geralt normally was the one to preach about keeping cool and not getting involved in unnecessary fights. Of course, he was also the one to most likely kick off about unfair judgements, but this had not been one of those occasions.

“We really should stop meeting like this,” Aiden practically purred in his ear.  

“Fuck off,” Lambert growled but didn’t relinquish his hold on Aiden, around them their teammates were doing the same as Geralt grappled in the middle of the rink.

“Our fans will love this, three cuddles in one game. It’s prime fanfiction material,” Aiden laughed and buried his face in Lambert’s neck, his fingers gripping into Lambert’s side.

Lambert rolled his eyes. It was all they were ever asked about in interviews after the game, fucking bullshit the lot of it. He wanted to talk about the game not some fake relationship that the tabloids made up. It didn’t help that Aiden fucking poked at the fire, fanning the fucking flames. He giggled and alluded to some online site where stories were written about the two of them. It was all fun and games to Aiden.

It wasn’t a game to Lambert.

He hated to admit it but he really liked the man, and the fact that there was a whole community of people that saw the chemistry between them and thought they would be cute together, when they were barely even friends off the ice, that drove him insane.

As soon as the fight ended Lambert pushed off from Aiden, growling at Geralt on his way past. They had a fucking game to win.

___________

They didn’t win, but it was close.

Lambert zipped up his hoody, and stubbornly avoided looking at Geralt and his idiotic figure skating fiancé. No one wanted to watch their post game make-out. He caught Ciri’s eye across the lobby and they both rolled their eyes at Geralt and Jaskier’s sickening display of public affection.

And then there was a weight around his shoulders, heat pressed against his side. He cursed and got ready to shrug his assailant off but then he heard Aiden’s voice in his ear.

“I meant it, you know, we really should stop meeting like that, darling,” Aiden’s voice was like molten chocolate in his eyes, a soft lilt of a french accent that Lambert just couldn’t stop thinking about. “It’s about time you ask me out on a date.”

Lambert froze, and turned to face the other skater. “What the fuck?”

“Oh come on, Lamb. I see the way you look at me. Clearly my flirtations were too subtle for your wolfy brain, so I am asking you plain and clear, sweetheart,” Aiden’s green eyes were blazing and bold and fierce. He was almost arrogant in his confidence.

Lambert stammered wordlessly, wondering if this was some trick, whether their publicists had organised the whole thing as a HR stunt. “What the fuck?” he repeated.

Wow. Smooth.

And it was only then did the light start to diminish from Aiden’s eyes. His arm pulled away from Lambert’s shoulder and he took a step back. Lambert growled and grabbed Aiden’s hand before he could run away, before he could miss his chance.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “You took me by surprise.”

Aiden snorted but didn’t answer, didn’t try to hold Lambert’s hand. His fingers were limp in Lambert’s grasp. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut. Of all the ways he had imagined this, he hadn’t imagined he’d be such a fucking idiot.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” Lambert said, meeting Aiden’s eyes. He was proud that his voice didn’t shake, betraying the nerves he felt, despite the fact this had all been Aiden’s idea.

Aiden’s cool expression melted away. His fingers finally entwined with Lambert’s and he pressed a kiss to Lambert’s cheek. “I thought you’d never ask, darling.”

#the witcher #lambden #laiden #ice hockey AU #wolfie's witcher writing #enchant-the-pasta

[dumpsiteforfics]

Yearning - Excerpts From a lonely heart : [ Chapter 2]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Rating: Mature

Genre: Angst and fluff

Trigger warnings: mentions of death, suicide, A/B/O, Drugs, Kidnapping, spoilers to criminal minds season 1 to season 6. Also, will include mpreg, at the end.

This is my a/b/o universe for Heid. As the name suggests, lots of yearning and angst followed by a fluff and smut eventually. First chapter might be slower but things will pick up soon. I don’t want to make the story longer, but we will see!!

Also, please check trigger warnings and also let me know if you would like me to add more warnings!

English is my third language so expect grammatical mistakes and typos, I don’t have a beta sorry. Also I hope you will give it some love!! I’m looking forward to the feedback.

AO3 links : Chapter 1 Chapter 2

More about this au: Click here

It was different, this numbness that his mind slipped into… Spencer was used to having his mind always full of swirling thoughts about everything, obscure facts and constant statistics. But now, it was just silent, at least until he was so far gone that he started reliving the memories he had buried deep in his mind. The memories of his father leaving, of trying to do everything to keep his father from leaving them, memories of witnessing how his mother's beautiful mind broke down into pieces every day as the disease gripped her completely.

When he came back into consciousness, Charles was already there rough handling him. Spencer watched as he suddenly switched on a camera that wasn't there before. And as he said how other heathens are watching, it was a miracle that his mind grasped the words for a clue that was. His team was watching. And he needed to give them a clue about his whereabouts, which he had no idea how to give. He was unconscious throughout the ride and afterwards also he hadn't found any chance of knowing about the location where he was kept. Just then he realised the carcass Tobias had brought in when he came earlier. And he prayed to every god listening that his team would realise his clue and check the reports of poaching if any. It was a long shot of course but his team was brilliant, they will understand.

He was suddenly pulled up by his collar, face to face with Charles and he shuddered with disgust and fear. His heartbeats sped up as he heard Charles asking him to choose one to die. How was he supposed to do that? He had chosen this job because he wanted to save people, protect them from evil. But he knew Charles wouldn't take no for an answer, he thought for a moment and tried to attempt avoiding choosing to kill someone though, and thankfully Charles didn't mind. And then he was shutting off the camera and making way to kill the one he thought was a sinner. Spencer had never felt this helpless, not even when his mother was in her scariest episodes, but that's all he was feeling as he watched the couple get butchered in front of his eyes as he tried to free his hands from the chair he was tied to. He was never going to be the same again, after all of this.

***†***

As soon as they saw Reid on that screen, they realised instantly that he was beaten, his lips were cracked, one of his feet was without a sock, and his face just looked haggard. Aaron could feel the rage burning inside both of his alphas, especially Morgan and he himself wasn't any better. He could see how broken his agent looked. He couldn't help feeling a small burst of pride as Reid already profiled the unsub to realise he was a sadist in a psychotic break and his mannerisms proved to Aaron that he had already deduced he was kidnapped by a one unsub with three personalities. 

When he was told to choose one to die, Aaron's heart broke. He knew as an Omega just how difficult it was, how against Reid's every instinct of nurturing and protection that decision went. He could see how disgusted Reid looked to be told to choose. Aaron is never going to forget the devastation he could see in Reid's eyes as he struggled to reply, but then Tobias pulled him up by his collar and the devastation was replaced by a pure fear. And Aaron's hands clenched into a fist without him knowing, he wanted to break every single finger of Tobias for touching his agent, for laying hands on an Omega, for beating him up and for scaring him. 

Reid though was strong, even through the fear he tried to find a way to not war against his instincts at the same choosing not to anger the unsub by downright denying his order. He chose one to save. 

Aaron couldn't take his eyes off of the screen, trying to get as much as he can of the place, and trying to profile Reid to see if he can get any clues of his whereabouts. Just as Gideon called the woman to get her to shut her laptop and in turn making sure she wasn't being stalked anymore, the feed turned off. And Aaron's heart stopped. This was their only connection to Reid, the only way they could see their agent was still alive. And as much as he hated it, they had no other option but to wait for a 911 call from the next murder site. And as Morgan left the room, slamming his fist in the door, Aaron couldn't even think about correcting Morgan and telling him to get his shit together, because if he wasn't in front of the team right now he would've done the same. He wanted to break something, most likely he would love to get his hands on Tobias and watch him ripped to pieces by his own hands. And as terrifying and confusing as that feeling was, he couldn't make himself to care about it this time. His instincts were not at all thinking about right or wrong, they just wanted to protect their omega and this was the first time Aaron was in agreement with his instincts.

***†***

Spencer opened his eyes as he felt the same terrified mind closer to him and he saw Tobias making his way towards him with another dose of the drug. He desperately tried to convince him to tell about the location where they were right now, but Tobias didn't listen and soon enough Spencer was slipping inside a hazy numbness and onslaught of old memories.

Probably hours later or days, Spencer couldn't even keep a track at this point he was awoken by Charles voice. Apparently someone had marked the video as virus and it decreased the number of people viewing the latest murder he had posted online. That must be Garcia, Spencer thought. Why weren't they coming to save him though? He had already given them a clue. Why wasn't anyone here to save him from this? Spencer wasn't even sure how long he can hold on now. The drugs were messing up his mind and even though the escape felt good he knew he was developing a dependency on it. 

Just then Charles got up from the chair and Spencer braced himself for the abuse he knew wasn't going to be just verbal this time. As Charles screamed about his team and how they were all planning this against his agenda, he suddenly stopped and Spencer realised with a dread that Charles was looking at the track marks on his elbow. And then he was attacked with slaps and kicks as Charles repeatedly told him how pathetic he was and how much he had sinned. Spencer, already was tired from the trauma, from constant emotional load, the fear of being kidnapped and stranded with the sickest of minds and now being beaten without any break in between. Soon enough Spencer fell down from the chair, and started feeling breathless, it was getting difficult to breath or even think coherently. And as he slipped into darkness all he thought was, I'm going to die, alone and drugged.

***†***

Aaron wasn't in the room with Garcia and Gideon when Charles killed Reid. He was in the other room, going through the diaries again to see if they could find a clue. And suddenly he was hit with this dreadful feeling that something was wrong, and then deep sadness slipped inside his mind and he was running towards the room where Tobias had his computer setup. And what he saw there took his breath away. Gideon and Garcia were huddled close as she kept on crying, he sobs were breaking his heart but then his eyes moved over the screen and he realised what was wrong. 

Reid. Lifeless on the floor.

Aaron tried to see closer for any signs of his chest moving, but he didn't move. He was gone. He could still remember the day Reid joined the team. Fresh from the academy, eager to protect and use his mind to save the people. He was so young. Just 26 years old and already had so much knowledge, so much empathy. He was so brilliant and so kind to everyone. Aaron remembered how Spencer single-handedly won over everyone's heart and proved his worth through the cases they worked. And such a young, precious life was taken down by a vicious unsub as the team couldn't do anything to save him. Their omega trusted them to save him and as a pack they failed to protect his life. What about his family? Or his Alpha? Did he even get a chance to meet his mate? Aaron shuddered with the intensity of grief he felt in his heart, his alpha screaming at him for failing his pack and without even realising a few tears escaped from his eyes. 

He closed his eyes as all he could think about was, We failed him.

***†***

Taglist: @ssa-sarahsunshine @brillianthijinx @thaddeusly

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed! ❤️ Please leave a feedback! ❤️❤️

#heid #hotchreid #tw a/b/o #tw: kidnapping #tw: mention of death #he doesn't die though but yeah #tw: drugs #tw: violence #tw: mention of murder #Ray's fics

[marrys-dream-world]

if we’re bound to be something, why not together? (chapter seven)

Read on AO3

First / Previous / Next

Notes:  I know I'm late, family things. Don't worry, I'm not gonna abandon this story or anything, I swear. Even after ladynoir july ends, I'm still gonna post. Day 7: Height Difference. @ladynoirjuly

Ladybug knew she was short.

As soon as she started growing, the doctors had warned her parents that she might not do much more of that. After all, she inherited her mother’s body type, so she would never get to a height even close to her father’s towering frame. That’s why Marinette was static when she grew taller than her mother, at least she knew she would not stay that short. There was hope for her, still, so maybe the doctors could be wrong, it wasn’t an exact science, anyway. It's not like her friends remind her of it, not since she kicked Kim in the stomach when he called her shorty at the age of seven. They were mature enough, now, to not need to fall back on jabs at her height.

Unless you were, of course, Chat Noir.

It all started on a relatively grumpy day. Adrien Agreste, the love of her life, had gotten a very noticeable  growth spurt. As she had gotten to class surprisingly early (five minutes before the bell rang!!), she was putting her stuff away on the desk when he came in and was alerted by Nino's loud gasp.

"Dude!" He shouted, attracting the attention of their entire class. "You shot up!"

"Haha, yeah, a little." Adrien said, rubbing the back of his neck and turning slightly red. "Happened over the weekend."

Everyone started to congratulate him good-naturedly, Lila suddenly materializing by his side and clinging to his arm in a way that made Marinette's blood boil. Fortunately, Ms. Bustier showed up and sent them to their respective seats. Marinette wondered if she imagined the relieved slump of Adrien's shoulders. During class, she had been unable to fully pay attention, this new development eating her up inside.  Before, she had been perfectly positioned to stare into his green eyes furtively, but now? Her crammed up neck would call too much attention to her. So she spent the rest of the day grumpy, deprived of her daily dose of Agreste’s big greens.

However, when she arrived at their patrol site with a strained “hey, Chat” and got no response, curiosity overwhelmed her annoyance.

“Chat?” She tried again, shaking his shoulder. He glanced at her, stance casual.

“Oh, sorry, my lady.” He said nonchalant and she would have almost believed him if not for the mischievous glint in his green eyes. “Didn’t see you down there.”

Her face matched the color of her suit. “Excuse me?!”

“Having a bad day, bugaboo?” Chat Noir asked, a full smirk now blossoming on his face. “The weather too bad down there?”

She growls at him and he, wisely, jumps away, starting patrol. 

Since then, Chat Noir didn’t miss a chance to take a shot at her. Resting his arm on her head, pretending he didn’t see her coming, ruffling her hair and many more. When they fought Sole Crusher, Chloé’s akumatized sister (being akumatized was a side effect of meeting her, unfortunately, at least that was the most parisian experience she could get on her first day), he would joke about how much harder it would be for the akuma catch her instead of the “normal-sized people”. 

Everytime she would punch him in the closest place she could hit, just a symbolic one (she wouldn’t ever hut him), and then she had to mask the wave of fondness that washed over her as he pretended it was painful and said a “geez, bugaboo, not even Shadow Moth hits this hard, working out too much?”. At school, though, she had other problems.

“Is everything okay, Marinette?” Adrien asked her, looking down at her during the break between math and chemistry. 

“You’re more than okay- I mean, I'm not okay, no, argh. I’m fine, why?” Marinette stammered, trying to not think about how she was at the perfect height to hide her blushing face in his chest.

“You keep looking up at me. Is your neck hurting? Or is something in my hair?”

“Yeah! That's it!”

He frowned. "It 's what?”

“It’s, er, there’s something in your hair!” She lifted her hand to his hair (so! soft!) and ran through it a few times before taking it out. “There, now it’s fine.”

“Thanks, Marinette.” Adrien smiled genuinely and she bit back a gooey sigh. “What was it? In my hair?”

“Just a bug.” She squeaked out, pathetically, but Adrien’s eyes were still soft (fond?), so maybe she didn’t make a complete fool of herself. 

Between the two of them, there was no way she could get more distracted, was what she was thinking. Famous last words. 

It was a Sentimonster with, weirdly enough, no akuma. She hated when he surprised her like that, a new dog learning old tricks. Shadow Moth was usually someone very simple-minded, throwing akumas and sentimonster duos at them with glaring exceptions like Heroes Day. Having a sentimonster with no akuma implied him using new strategies and she didn't appreciate it at all. The Sentimonster, which Chat Noir named Mr. Octi, was a purple giant octopus had sticky tentacles which were impossible to escape.

I'm sorry. Ladybug thought to the civilians caught up in him. Mr. Octi's creepy smile didn't change no matter how much they screamed. 

Distracted as she was, she would have been caught in a purple tentacle if not for the black-clad body that slammed into her and brought her down to a rooftop. Chat Noir turned them around as they hit the concrete, leaving her on top of him.

"Be careful, Ladybug!" He said, carefully cradling her to his chest. 

Even if the suit absorbs most of the impact, she would have winced in sympathy, normally. However, Ladybug had her face pressed into a strong chest as her frantic partner asked if she was okay and stroked her hair. They were strangely aligned, their feet touching and his arms wrapped around her. He smelled fresh (kinda like Adrien the fragrance, actually) and felt warm.

This is nice. She thought, dazed. Maybe Chat Noir wasn't freakishly tall. Maybe… I fit nice here, I think.

"Ladybug?!" His desperate voice broke her out of her trance and she pulled off him like a lightning bolt struck her. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. Great. Dandy." She threw him finger guns and he looked even less convinced. "It's not important! We need to stop the Sentimonster."

When they defeated Mr. Octi and he insisted on checking on her head, it took all her self control to not hide her face on his chest.

It was unfair that Chat Noir of all people was the perfect height for hugging.

#ladynoir #ladynoirjuly #ladynoirjuly2021 #ladybug #chat noir #ml fic #my stuff #if we're bound to be something why not together

[jaybear1701]

Chain Link Pt. 1

Summary: Raelle and Scylla share a deep connection, but the road back to each other will be far from easy. Post-Season 1. Also on AO3.

The blast came out of nowhere.

It nearly blinded Raelle, who felt the rumble of the deafening explosion even from her perch on a wooded hill, dozens of meters away from the Camarilla’s latest massacre. Or what was left of it. 

“Holy...” Abigail shot to her feet from where she had been crouched. “What the hell was that?”

Swiping at her eyes, Raelle shook her head to get rid of the spots in her vision and the cottony ringing in her ears. “Pretty sure that was a bomb.”

“No shit, shitbird.” Abigail rolled her eyes.

“Quiet,” Tally hushed them both with an outstretched hand, brows knit in concentration as she surveyed the distant landscape awash in flame and smoke. Despite the return of her youth, the commanding presence of General Alder remained in Tally’s steadfast demeanor. “Someone’s alive. They’re hurt, though.”

“Who?” Abigail asked.

“I don’t know. A witch. Not one of ours.” 

That only meant one thing.  The Spree. Every muscle in Raelle’s body tensed. She hated the way Abigail and Tally looked at her with a mixture of trepidation and pity ever since they learned her mom was Spree.

 “Any enemies?” Raelle asked through grit teeth, heart beginning to pound whenever she thought about her mother and her deception. She forced herself to banish that line of thinking. The less she thought of her mom and her…  associates... the better. 

“You mean besides--” Tally stopped short at Raelle’s glare. “No humans. The Camarilla are long gone.”

Raelle wiped away sweat from her forehead with the back of her gloved hand before pulling up the black hood of her combat uniform. “We have to help them.” 

“What? Raelle, no.” Abigail blocked her path, frown firmly set. “We’re here for reconnaissance only. Not…”

“I’m not letting any more witches die at the hands of these murderers.” Raelle moved around her. 

“We should at least wait for backup.”

“Stay if you want, Bells,” Raelle said over her shoulder. They couldn’t afford to wait for the other units. 

“Dammit.”

Despite Abigail’s curse, Raelle could hear their footsteps behind her. Where one went, the unit followed. They proceeded cautiously down the hill and across a barren field, toward the site where the Camarilla had left the bodies of dozens of executed Spree. As they approached, the bomb’s fallout exacerbated the already sweltering heat of summer. Raelle’s gut twisted at the stench of burnt flesh and she stifled a gag. 

“Tal?” Abigail’s eyes scanned the edge of the forest, scourge gripped and at the ready.

“All clear.” Tally squinted before pointing to the west of the blast site. “There’s someone over there.”

In the shimmering haze of the fire, Raelle could make out the form of a witch crawling away, slow and pained. She collapsed in the grass, and Raelle rushed to her side, crouching on one knee. 

“Hey, are you okay?” She asked as she gently turned the woman onto her back. Soot matted strawberry blonde hair that clung to her forehead. Angry blisters covered patches of exposed skin on her face and hands.The woman’s breath shuddered as she stared up at Raelle, dark eyes glossy and unfocused. “Stay with me now.”

Raelle gently laid her hands over the woman’s chest and closed her eyes. She inhaled and exhaled, matching the rhythm of their breaths to forge a connection. “To her that knocketh, it shall be opened.”  She felt it then. A cold fear. Sharp pain. But she pushed forward. “Power and glory. Forever and--”

Burnt hands slapped her away, breaking the link. 

“No,” the woman groaned weakly. 

“Please, I’m trying to help.” Raelle tried to place her hands back in position, but was once again slapped away.

The woman shook her head. “No,” she protested, a hint of what could only be described as panic in her voice. “No.” 

“What’s going on?” Abigail knelt on the other side of the Spree. 

“I dunno.” Raelle shrugged helplessly. “She won’t let me heal her.”

Tally inhaled sharply and stiffened next to Raelle. “Goddess protect…”

The temperature dropped suddenly, heat overtaken by a chill in the wind. Almost instantly, the nearby fires died down and disappeared. A sheen of frost glazed over the carnage. The other units had arrived, landing from the above and led by Sergeant Quartermaine, her mouth set in a grim, thin line.

“Bellweather,” Anacostia barked out when her feet touched the ground, eyes still glowing from Salva as the other soldiers fanned out to set a perimeter. “Status report.”

“The site is secure, ma’am.” Abigail stood at attention. “One survivor.”

“Survivor?” Anacostia followed Abigail’s gaze to the witch on the ground who was still struggling to escape from Raelle. She breathed out, nostrils flaring, and approached. “Stand down, Private.”

Raelle leaned back on her haunches. Confusion etched across her face as the Spree allowed Anacostia to grasp her wrists.

“Focus,” Anacostia ordered. “Breathe.” 

To Raelle’s surprise, and mild offense, the woman actually listened. She stopped fighting, eyes locked on Anacostia as their breathing synced. In and out, in and out. The burns melted away like snow, until nothing was left but healed skin. 

“Sergeant, that’s…” said Tally, sounding just as confused as Raelle felt.

“Not now, Craven.” Anacostia kept her focus on the Spree.

On a slow exhale of relief, the woman’s face relaxed and her eyes rolled back as she lost consciousness. 

“That’s what?” Raelle turned toward Tally as Abigail joined them and froze. Her stomach dropped as she glanced back at the unconscious woman, whose hair began to darken. Her appearance morphed into a face that had been haunting her for months.

Raelle’s heart stopped.

Scylla.  

 ***

“She’s gone.”

“Gone?” Raelle repeated numbly from her infirmary bed, propped up on pillows against a steel-frame headboard. 

Abigail shifted on the next bunk over, but remained asleep. She had been knocked out since the last round of tests Colonel Wick had run since their return to Fort Salem. Alder had been nothing but insistent about enrolling them in War College, in exchange for being poked and prodded about their explosion of power in China.

“You mean like…” Raelle couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought.

“Escaped,” Anacostia said, stoic as always.

Raelle couldn’t stop the tears that pricked at the back of her eyes. “But…how?”

Clearing her throat, Anacostia’s gaze shifted toward the ground then back up. “Overpowered the guard before her transport.”

Silence stretched between them. Confusion and fear warred within Raelle, pressure building behind her ribs even as a frizzon of relief shot through her. Scylla wasn’t in prison. She was out there, somewhere.

“And no one knows if…” Raelle despised the way her voice trembled. “Is she…”  

“Best not to dwell on it.” Anacostia placed a hand on Raelle’s shoulder. Squeezed. “I’m sorry, Collar. I thought you’d want to know.”

Dumbfounded, Raelle stared at her lap, fingers absently tracing the creases of her left palm.

***

The sun had set hours ago, but the night remained muggy and difficult to breath. Humidity stuck to Raelle’s skin as she paced back and forth. She held a scry loosely in her right hand while on guard duty outside of a military safe house that, for all intents and purposes, looked like a run-of-the-mill cabin in the woods. She wasn’t quite sure what was worse: the stifling air or the cycle of shock, relief, and pain that warred inside her as she thought about who was on the other side of the door. 

Scylla.

Raelle had been in a daze since they carried her away from the blast site. She half wondered if she was stuck in one of her many dreams about Scylla; if she would bolt upward at any moment in a cold sweat of churning emotions. Forming a fist with her left hand, she dug her nails into her clammy skin until it hurt. 

She didn’t wake up.

The door swung open and Abigail stepped outside, grimacing at the heat. “How can you stand it out here?”

Raelle shrugged up one shoulder, feigning nonchalance “Someone’s gotta keep watch.”

“That someone doesn’t have to be you.” Abigail crossed her arms. “I’m here to relieve you.”

“Not necessary.” Raelle stopped with her back facing Abigail, lifting the blank scry up to scan the darkness for potential threats. She was still shit at knowing. Didn’t have the knack for it that Tally clearly had. But she was better than nothing.

“She’s coming to,” Abigail said. 

“And?”

“And?” Annoyance crept into Abigail’s voice. “You can’t stay out here forever.”

“Can’t I?”

Abigail huffed out, none too gently grasping Raelle by the shoulders and turning her around. “You’re gonna have to face her sometime.” 

“No, I really don’t.” Raelle knocked Abigail’s hands away, but managed not to kick at the dirt like a petulant child.

“You’re right. You don’t.” Abigail’s dark eyes bore into hers. “But you’ve gotta keep your head in the game. The longer you avoid dealing with your shit, Shitbird, the more you endanger the unit. I know you still...” 

Raelle broke eye contact, hating that Abigail was using the unit-unity card. Hated even more that there was no use denying her feelings about Scylla, not after their shared link. 

“Look, all I’m saying is you have a second shot to--”

“What, torture myself?” 

Abigail sighed. “Find peace.”

Raelle stared at the door, biting her tongue to keep herself in check. 

“I know it’s hard,” Abigail said sympathetically, detaching her own scry from her utility belt. “Rip the bandaid off.” 

Raelle knew Abigail was right, not that she would admit it out loud. With an imperceptible nod, she left Abigail to her post and approached the house, legs both weak and heavy. Her hand stilled on the knob, a wave of memories crashing into her of the last time she stood on one side of a door with Scylla on the other. For a passing moment, the dank malodor of the prison overpowered the sweet foliage of the forest. The chill of the cell overtook the warmth of summer. She remembered the sharpened edges of her words, and the way Scylla's face had crumbled as the cuts sliced deep.  Raelle braced herself on the doorframe.

“You can do this, Rae,” Abigail called out softly.

Steeling herself, Raelle drew in a long breath until her lungs could expand no more, and opened the door before she lost her nerve.

Three pairs of eyes snapped toward her the moment she set food inside, but Raelle could only see blue. Deep as the ocean, the threat of a storm on the horizon.  

“Raelle,” Scylla greeted, politely. Neutral. As if merely acknowledging an old acquaintance. 

"Scylla." Her name nearly stuck in Raelle's suddenly parched throat. 

“Collar, shut the door.” Anacostia’s command snapped Raelle from her trance, and she did what she was told. She didn’t know what else to do with herself, so she crossed her arms to keep herself from shaking and stood to the side of the entryway, ignoring the concerned look that Tally shot her way as she handed a glass of water to Scylla. 

“The sooner you answer our questions, Ramshorn, the sooner you can leave,” said Anacostia, who sat on a nearby chair.

“Leave?” Tally asked, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch where Scylla sat in tattered jeans and a charred t-shirt. “Isn’t she a," Tally's voice dropped to a whisper, "fugitive?”

One corner of Scylla's lips quirked up, fingers tracing the lip of the glass. Raelle tried not to stare, or think about how those same hands had pushed her away not too long ago.

“Our cease fire with the Spree means we’re willing to overlook past," Anacostia tilted her head to the side, "transgressions.” She focused back on Scylla. "As long as our continued partnership proves...beneficial."

Scylla took a long pull of water. "Sharing is caring, after all." She set the glass down on an end table. "Fire away."

"Why were you there?" Anacostia asked.

"Can't a girl enjoy a stroll through nature?"

Tally hopped on her cushion. "That's a lie!"

Scylla rolled her eyes. "Of course it's a lie." Tally frowned. "Stupid questions deserve stupid answers, my dear Knower."

Anacostia pinched the bridge of her nose. "Do you want to go or not? We can do this all night."

"I was there for the same reasons you were." Scylla pursed her lips. "To investigate the massacre."

"And?" Anacostia prompted when Scylla failed to elaborate.

"And it was a trap," Scylla finished, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. 

"What caused the explosion?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Sergeant." Scylla looked everywhere but at Raelle as she spoke. "It's clear the Camarilla have some new tricks up their sleeves."

Anacostia glanced at Tally, who inclined her head forward. "And the others?"

"Others?"

"You're telling me the Spree sent only one Necro--"

"One brilliant Necro," Scylla interrupted with a devilish smile. 

If looks could kill, Anacostia's would have incinerated Scylla on the spot. "One Necro into a hostile situation. I thought the Spree protected their own."

Scylla's smile faded slightly, gaze sliding toward Raelle, who froze. More Spree? Her heart skipped a beat. Had her mom been there?

Scylla turned her attention back to Anacostia. "They would have dispersed the moment they heard the Bats, ceasefire or not." One eyebrow arched up. "Can you blame them?" 

Anacostia's eyes narrowed. "I suppose not." She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. "You're free to go, Ramshorn."

"Well then," Scylla clapped her thighs with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's been a pleasure, ladies." She rose to her feet.

"Wait, you're going?" Tally shot up, too, glancing helplessly at Raelle, whose pulse spiked at the thought of Scylla walking out the door. "Now?"

"No time like the present, Private.” Scylla smiled.

"But what if they're still out there?" Tally waved at the door. "Wouldn't it be safer to wait until morning?"

The same thought had crossed Raelle’s mind, even as she tried to tamp down the anxiety that swelled in her chest. 

"As much as I wish it were so, the Camarilla don't dissolve in the sun," Scylla pointed out. "Besides, it's me they should be worried about." 

A beat passed between Anacostia and Scylla and, against all odds, the drill sergeant cracked a nearly imperceptible smile. Raelle almost had to do a double take. "Get outta here before I change my mind." 

Scylla gave an irreverent salute. "Yes, ma'am." She nodded at Tally and made her way to the exit, avoiding eye contact with Raelle as she approached the door. Almost against her will, Raelle reached out and grabbed the doorknob before Scylla could, surprising them both. 

Blue linked with blue.

Although she could feel the intensity of Anacostia and Tally’s stares, Ralle couldn’t focus on anything but the blood rushing in her ears, and just how beautiful Scylla was despite being covered in grime. It hurt to look at her. Raelle held her breath, somehow managing to keep every single one of her muscles still even though it felt like the ground was bottoming out beneath her.

There were so many things she wanted to tell Scylla. Should tell her. Yet nothing came. Everything left unsaid was bottlenecked between them.

“Raelle,” Scylla breathed out. 

It was enough to break their standstill. Raelle twisted the knob and pulled the door open. She had to let her go. 

When Scylla walked past, it took all of Raelle’s willpower not to reach out and pull her close. She didn’t have that right any more, that option long dead and buried. Just like she had wanted.

But still. She was weak. “Scyl,” she called out instead, giving in. She couldn’t help it.

Scylla paused. 

“I’m glad you’re…” Raelle swallowed, hard, throat constricting. Not locked up? Not dead? Inadequate words failed her.

Scylla looked over her shoulder, a small, sad smile on her lips. “Me too.”

Then she was gone, disappearing into the  darkness of the night. 

And Raelle, rooted to the spot, was left with nothing but a piercing emptiness in her wake.

#raylla #raelle collar #scylla ramshorn #motherland fort salem #motherland fort salem fic

[dontcallmecarrie]

Since the second one is more of an interface/"alternate skin" to AO3, do you think locking the fics will stop them from being displayed? Or are you locking the fics because of the woodsign apps?

Yes. 

okay but seriously it’s a bit of both, with a side of “real life issues hitting hard and fast and unreliable narrators are fun in fic but exhausting in real life and this was a double whammy of a sucker punch that was just the goddamn cherry on top”.

I mean, I am very much Not A Fan of the whole ‘proprietary interface that charges for something that was written and posted for free’ thing, and have been in fandom long enough that my knee-jerk reaction to having any of my fan content getting monetized is a solid NOPE because I’m very very broke and don’t want to risk getting sued. So that doesn’t help, either.

But I’ll be honest, a good chunk of the impetus for my knee-jerk reaction of the ‘users-only for now’ thing is just me being reactionary in the face of the Woodsign apps thing. The first app you mentioned could be argued to have been created out of ignorance [even if AO3 has a very convenient button for downloading fics for personal use, which I myself use on long drives], but the Woodsign ones?

No. Even with Hanlon’s Razor [”never attribute to malice what can be adequately explained by ignorance”, aka why I still have a modicum of faith in humanity], I look at that situation and there is no excuse for ripping off fanfics and putting them behind a paywall. 

This isn’t one writer plagiarizing another. This is one asshole [or potentially a group of assholes, I don’t know] who went “hey here’s this free content that apparently has a decent fanbase, why not make some money off it?” without the consent of anyone else involved. Not the site originally hosting it, not the authors. 

I don’t know if my stuff’s on it. Odds are, yes, considering people apparently like some of my AUs but I don’t know and have no clue what actions I can even take from here.

I’m also very very tired. I’ve had people blatantly ripping off of my before, but this is on a new level and a first for me. [The fanfics.me mess a while back was annoying, but felt way less personal than this for some reason.]

Which, combined with my own personal life issues, meant my tolerance was low and my stress levels were already very high even before this situation came to my attention.

When I saw what was going down, my panic response kicked in. Thing is, in certain situations, that includes “go into lockdown mode, cut off any influence they have and take measures to prevent it from happening again”. 

It’s irrational, I know. Personal life bs rarely is, but I had literally just experienced a reminder of why I’d developed that habit in the first place not an hour beforehand irl and so I found myself defaulting to that. 

I needed time to get my ducks in a row, and some breathing room as well as get a better read on the situation. I’ll ease up on the restrictions on my works as well, and apologies to anyone who might’ve been inconvenienced by this whole mess.

It’s just— this whole thing hit way too close to home.

#thinking aloud #I got an ask! #Naught replies #replies #my apologies #personal life #for context #not having a very good day atm #make that month

[satanschild01]

No All Might? That’s Alright Prt3

Izuku Midoriya Fanfiction                                                          

A/N: In all honesty this took me way too long just to finish writing this chapter, but I pushed through so I guess it’s fine. I’ve created a AO3 account recently and I’ve posted all of my previous fanfictions there so if you want to check me out, you can find me as SatansChild

Hope you all stay safe and wear a mask if you can't physically distance.Hope to update soon!

Catch you on the flip side ~ Em

Photo used in this fic was referenced from original picture from anime, I did draw this photo jtlyk

Tags:

@random-fandom-girl-24

Tags for some wonderful feedback😘: @trashys-things @pink-imagines @marvelmymarvel @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @spaced-out-imagines​ @marvelmymarvelmain @writingfreakk

Trigger warning: Talk about death

Word Count: 2633

Part 1 Part 2  Part 3

After making sure all of the blood was no longer on his uniform, Closing his eyes, Izuku steeled himself to walk into the All Might shrine that was his room. Sure, he still wanted to be a hero, and he admired All Might’s strength, but he couldn’t stand to be surrounded by posters and figurines of a man who couldn’t offer any sort of encouragement to a child who clearly needed it. Izuku pulled some cardboard boxes out from his closet and started filling them with everything All Might. Oboro didn’t make a sound during the time he cleaned out his room, which he was grateful for. Even though he could just feel Oboro wanting to ask questions. 

“So what are you going to do about all this stuff?” Oboro asked as Izuku changed his All Might sheets with regular black ones “You seem like such a big fan...it just seems like a waste just to keep it all in boxes.”

Izuku shrugged his shoulders.”I’m not much of a fan anymore.” he lied to mostly himself rather than to Oboro, “I guess I’ll just donate the stuff later.” Once his walls were finally bare, Izuku stuffed the now full boxes to the back of his closet and flopped onto his bed. The room stayed silent for a moment until Izuku broke the ice, “I don’t want to intrude on your personal life…but can you tell me about yourself?” he asked

“Well for the fact that I witnessed and helped you with some pretty deep stuff, it sorta would be rude if I didn’t tell you something about my previous life,” Oboro said cheekily

“H-how long have you been...you know…” Izuku paused not really wanting to complete the question.

“...dead?” Izuku nodded “I was in my second year of high school when I died and I would be 29 by now so...close to 12 years I think?”  Izuku sat there on his bed frozen

‘12 years is a long time to be a ghost or spirit to not have passed on, that is if people actually pass onto another place once they die’ Izuku thought to himself

“I was patrolling around Tasomiya Ward with one of my best friends when there was a villain attack...I was working on saving some kids when debris fell on top of me...when I woke up I was like how I am now, I couldn’t find my body anywhere so I just...travelled around…” Oboro seemed to quiet down at mentioning that he never found his body to move onto another life, so Izuku thought of ways to change the current mood of the room.

“So you were a hero in training or something?” he asked, face full of wonder, Oboro hummed in affirmation “What school did you go to?”

“I went to U.A”

“Wait really?!” Izuku exclaimed excitedly, “that's so cool!”

They continued talking and asking questions back and forth, before falling into a comfortable silence. A few minutes past before Izuku took a deep breath

“I...I’m sorry,” Izuku said quietly, slowly curling into himself

"Why would you be sorry kid?" Oboro’s voice was full of confusion. But Izuku only curled in on himself further.

"If it wasn't for me you wouldn't be stuck here." As if anyone wanted to be bound to some stupid Deku...like him. And here he thought it was a whole coincidence that Oboro was with him. But instead, he just took whatever type of freedom he had to begin with.

"Hey, no! Stop that. Izuku that's not true! I'm here because I want to be!" The warmth spread all over him and he couldn't help but lean into it. “I said I'd make a hero out of you and I still plan on it."

Izuku looked up only to see the ceiling of his room, lifting his arm up to the sky and let it just float there (like what every kid does while laying on there bed contemplating on what to do next). "I wish I could see you again."

Oboro hummed. Seeming to think something through. "I don’t think there’s much out there since I was only a second-year when I died, but there could be some photos of me with friends or an article"

Izuku seemed to take that as a challenge as he went to his computer. "What did you choose to be your hero name?"

"Loud Cloud."

After scouring the web for a couple of minutes nothing showed up except for an old article from the Nikkei Shimbun newspaper, reporting the death of hero-in-training Loud Cloud. Izuku quickly exited that site choosing to search for something different. “What’s your full name Oboro?”

“Oh that’s right I didn’t tell you my full name, it is Oboro Shirakumo” Oboro replied

“Oboroshirikumo...oboroshirikumooo….here!” Izuku exclaimed pointing at the monitor’s screen. “This photo was tagged saying ‘Curry eating competition at U.A’s School Festival. Winner Hizashi Yamada from class 2-A!’ it also says the names of the people in the photo are; Shota Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada, and Oboro Shirakumo.” 

“Oh, I remember that!” Oboro cried out laughing “The curry was soo spicy I was freaking out because I couldn’t find anything to soothe my burning throat!”

“So that’s you in the back then?” Izuku asked pointing towards a teenager who seems to be freaking out.

Oboro chuckles “Yep, the other two were my best friends!”

“Yamada looks sorta familiar what’s his hero name?” Izukku asked, curious on why the 16-year-old looked so familiar to him

“Unless he changed it before becoming a pro, which he probably would not, his hero name is Present Mic.” 

Izuku sputtered “W-wait you were close friends with THE Present Mic?!” Oboro hummed in agreement while Izuku had his miny freak out “

“Oh my god that is socool!Ilistentohisradioshoweveryday,andhe’ssuchanamazinghero,likeevenifheisdeafduetohisquirkhedoesn’tletitbotherhiman-” He stopped hearing the sound of laughter coming around his room and his lamp flickering

"Aw jeez, that’s amazing Hizashi got to get that radio show he wanted." There was a quick blast of warmth flooding around his back and chest resembling a hug. "Well anyway, you should probably head to bed. You have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow and a long way to go before you can have a chance at being accepted into UA!"

"What are you going to do while I sleep?" Izuku asked, eyes slowly drooping.

"I'm going to see how far I can go without being next to you, and have a look around and exploring a bit. No need to worry. I'll make sure to be careful and be here in the morning." He seemed to pick up on his anxieties. Izuku felt warmth as Oboro slowly pet his hair back. "Goodnight, Izuku." 

The next morning Izuku woke up to warmth pulsing on his right cheek. "Hey kid it’s time to get up! You have training to do! Up and at ‘em!" Oboro’s voice was overly joyful and Izuku felt very unwilling to get out of bed.

"Mm...just a bit longeeeer." He groaned turning himself over facing away from where he guesses Oboro is standing (floating?).

"Fair warning Izuku my jokes are terrible, everyone at school would always runaway once I started and I haven’t been able to talk to actual people in so long! If spaghetti were to have it’s own action movie, what would it be called?.... Mission im-pasta-ble. What did the pot eat on it’s birthday?....pancakes. What do you call a camel in a drought?....A dry hu- "

Finally, Izuku jerked up, covering his ears. “Okay. Okay, I’m up! No need to finish that.” His face started to burn a light pink across his face, (knowing what the end of the joke was) as he started to kick the blankets off only to turn towards the window and see barely any light outside. "Wha- Oboro!! The sun isn’t even out yet!"

He turned glaring into thin air hoping to make contact with him.

"Yes, it is, Izu. It's just reeeally early in the morning. There is plenty of time for you to get ready and eat before we go out for a morning run!" He was being weirdly energetic about the whole ordeal, but Izuku knew he wouldn't take no for an answer.

Heading to the bathroom, Izuku ran a brush through his wild curly hair and brushed his teeth. Going back to his room, Obroro pipped up. "It's a bit cool outside so I suggest you wear some long sleeves."

The entire way to his closet Izuku muttered incoherent things. In the end, he opted to wear a plain black shorts and a long-sleeved shirt with written kanji saying 'tank-top' with his old dusty sneakers because his red sneakers were still on top of the roof.

Before heading out Izuku ate some toast and an orange. If he got hungry later on their run he could always eat more when they got back. As Izulu started to leave the apartment Izuku tripped over an unmarked box that was just left in front of the door.

"Ooo I wonder what it is!” Oboro seemed quite enthusiastic as Izuku went to open the box revealing his faded red shoes and yellow backpack.

"Wai-how-who found my stuff?" Izuku asked immediately putting the bag by the door and quickly changing between uncomfortable and comfortable shoes.

"I don’t know, when I got back from wandering around the package was just...there."

"Maybe someone found it and found out where I live from my contact info and address was written inside…?” Izuku wondered out loud.

“I guess so,” Oboro said looking to the bright sight of things.

‘But what if it was...All Might. Yeah, I’m glad that I don’t have to go back up there to collect my things but...I don’t want to have to depend on All Might to help me with my own problems.’

“Hey don’t think like that Izu! I know you’re not a huge fan of the guy, but you don’t have to beat yourself down like that. I know you’re better than that” Oboro spoke sternly trying to make a point, but that soon backfired as warmth spread through his body.

“Hold up- could you always hear my thoughts?” Izuku questioned as he started to jog away from the apartment.

“So far I can heat some things. Like your thoughts that way heavily on you emotionally. But it could possibly work to talk to me through your mind. So you don’t look like a freak talking to themselves.” Oboro quickly informs Izuku as to not worry him.

Sighed Izuku. That was true. Though he kept thinking about it as he jogged. As they passed Dagobah Municipal Beach, the sun had started to rise. Taking in a deep breath was the wrong reason as Izuku cringed from the awful smell of garbage. Despite the smell, Izuku took a break, taking a seat at the entrance.

"Oh gross. What is this place?" Oboro asked with a clear sound of disgust in his voice.

"Well," Izuku started."This is Dagobah Municipal Beach Park. It has accumulated trash coming from the sea for years, turning it from a beautiful beach spot into a trash heap for everyone's unwanted or broken belongings." It was really a shame. As a kid, Izuku recalled going to the beach. Lie under a beach umbrella, making sandcastles. But by the time he was tall enough into the water, it was already flooded with trash by then.

"That's terrible." Oboro seemed deeply upset about this actually. It made Izuku want to do something about it. But before Izuku could voice his thoughts Oboro spoke up.

“Hey Izu, could we make a quick visit to a convenience store?”

“Sure...what exactly do you want me to get?” Izuku asked, despite having an idea what Oboro was thinking.

“Well...you’re going to need to get some garbage bags and some gloves.”

Izuku then dashed towards the nearest convenience store with determination in his eyes. A frail-looking lady turned the key to open the doors as he walked by. Causing her to recoil in slight shock, Izuku realized that with his rapid approach he had frightened her. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'd just come to purchase some garbage bags and some gloves.

The older woman seemed to soften something about his face as she smiled and opened his door. "Sure thing, they’re both in the last aisle on your right."

Before she went inside, Izuku thanked her and smiled back. He quickly found what he was looking for and brought a box of trash bags and a pair of workers gloves onto the counter.

"What's the hurry, son? Why do you need trash bags this early in the morning? You aren't trying to cause trouble are you?" the old woman pointed to Izuku with an accusing finger, and he shook his head quickly.

"Oh no, ma'am! I thought that I could just try and clean the beach up! I passed it while I was on my morning run!" Izuku assured, voicing Oboro’s plan

At this, the elder woman gently smiles while scanning the items. “Wow, is that right?” she said astonished, “ You know how long that place has been a mess? What makes you believe you can do it all by yourself?"

Her words weren't really painful, she was just being realistic. He knew she was right. He certainly had no obligation to clean up the beach. He could have just ignored it and easily went about his day. But he knew if he wanted to be a hero then he would need to start off the roots of how heroes came to be. How they used to work. Heroes in the beginning didn’t do what they did for fame. No. They didn’t care for the recognition they would get. They did it because they just wanted to help.

“That’s the thing, ma’am. I thought that it wouldn’t hurt to try. It’s also a great way to work out, instead of having to buy workout equipment or get a gym membership!” Izuku brightly smiles towards the lady as he handed her the money to buy his items.

“Well, I wish you luck, kid. I’m guessing that you’ll need a place to put the trash you collect.” She stated, Izuku smiling sheepishly at her rubbing the back of his head she continued, “There are two dumpsters in the alley behind the store, they get taken every Monday.”

"Thank you, ma'am!" Izuku said genuinely as he headed for the door. He didn't think too much about how he would dispose of the garbage, so it was good to have one offered.

Oboro began to laugh as Izuku jogged back towards the beach. "Cheaper than having to buy workout equipment or get a gym membership! Man, how true that is nowadays!”

The first garbage bags were packed very quickly. broken bottles, cans of beer, old and rotting newspaper, all of it was poured into the trash bag. Plastic, paper, glass, etc. Izuku could take them to a recycling center! He was already pumped about this new project when Oboro spoke up.

“Hey, Izu, before you toss that into the bag” placing his hand on Izuku’s making him feel warmth blossom closest to the soda, can packaging he was holding in that hand. “make sure you cut each circle so if they end up in wildlife again then animals won’t get their heads stuck inside.”

Izuku's eyes lit up as he started to tear apart each loop before placing it in one of the bags used for recycling. Soon Izuku had used up a quarter of the box of trash bags gone and only had 6x5 feet rectangle cleared of the beach.

#mha #bnha #midoriya izuku #oboro shirakumo #mha midoriya #bnha midoriya #mha izuku #bnha izuku #mha midoriya izuku #bnha midoriya izuku #mha izuku midoriya #bnha izuku midoriya #fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha oboro shirikumo #bnha oboro shirikumo #mha shirikumo #bnha shirikumo #mha shirikumo oboro #bnha shirikumo oboro #mha oboro #bnha oboro

[splendidlyimperfect]

Written for Gratsu Bingo/Week; prompt: flying

-----

When Gray's girlfriend dumps him right before Christmas, he's stuck with a non-refundable, three-week holiday to Paris. Without another choice, he agrees to go with a stranger - a man who is remarkably charismatic, and a lot cuter than Gray is willing to admit. It's supposed to be platonic (Gray's straight, right?), but Paris isn't called the City of Love for nothing.

Chapters (1/4): 1 Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster Characters: Natsu Dragneel, Gray Fullbuster, Cana Alberona Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Holidays, Vacation, Christmas, Paris (City), Romantic Fluff, Mutual Pining, Holding Hands, First Kiss, Trans Character, Falling In Love, Strangers to Lovers, Romance, Gray thinks he's straight but he's not, Natsu falls in love hard, Gray speaks French because reasons, Tumblr: FTLGBTales

-----

“Gray, if you don’t stop moping, I’m going to have to kick your ass.”  

Gray groans, tipping his head back against the couch and looking at Cana upside-down. She gestures to the mess of takeout containers around him, rolling her eyes.  

“Get your shit together, man,” she says, flopping down on the couch next to him. “I know you feel like crap, but at least take a shower.”  

Gray rubs his eyes, sitting up and reaching for his coffee mug. When he realizes it’s cold, he makes a face.

“I didn’t ask you to come over here,” he grumbles, glaring at Cana over the top of the mug as he drinks the cold coffee anyway. “If you don’t like how I’m coping, feel free to leave.”  

“You’re not coping,” Cana says, flicking his forehead. “And as your sister, I have a duty to drag you out of this wallowing mess and make you less miserable.” Gray scowls at her. “C’mon, it’s been a month. She wasn’t even that nice!”  

“Suki was perfectly nice,” Gray protests, but there isn’t much energy in his voice. “And that’s not…” He trails off, shaking his head.  

“That’s not what?” Cana asks, frowning and pulling her legs up under her.  

Gray sighs, digging through the pile of blankets around him until he finds his phone. He flicks through a few messages, then hands it to Cana. Her eyes widen as she reads the e-mail.  

“Okay, now I really wanna kill her,” Cana growls. “You were gonna take her on holiday?”  

“Mm.” Gray flops back against the cushions. “Three weeks. She’d always said she wanted to go to Paris, and I’d been looking for tickets – they popped up on that super discount site, so I grabbed them. I was gonna take her for Christmas.” 

“Well now you can take me!” Cana says. Gray shakes his head.  

“They won’t let me change the name on the ticket,” me says. “One of those ‘non-refundable-fine-print-blah-blah-blah’ things.”  

Cana looks down at the e-mail again, then back at Gray with a grin on her face.  

“You’ll just have to find someone else with the same name!” she says excitedly.

Continue reading on AO3

“Have to… what?” Gray frowns at her.  

“The same name!” Cana exclaims. “If you can’t change the name on the reservation, find someone else with the same name to go with you!”  

“You mean… a stranger?” Gray asks. He rubs his temples, yawning. It’s too early to deal with Cana’s exuberance. “Why would I want to do that?”  

“Because it’s an adventure,”  Cana insists. “And it’s either that, or spend Christmas with me and Lucy.”  

Gray takes his phone back from Cana and considers her proposition. Taking a three-week trip with a complete stranger doesn’t sound particularly appealing, but neither does spending Christmas with his sister and her handsy girlfriend.  

“Fine,” he says, looking up at Cana. “But where the hell am I gonna find someone else named Natsuki?”

-----

Gray hates to admit it, but Cana is right. It takes a few days after Cana posts the information online, but eventually someone reaches out. They exchange a few messages, and after Gray decides that she seems normal enough, he agrees to have her come along.  

Now it’s a week later and he’s sitting in the airport, rubbing his face and looking down at his phone for the hundredth time.

I’ll meet you outside security, the message says. Pink hair, I’m pretty hard to miss ;)  

Gray’s stomach twists as he fidgets, looking at the clock on his phone six times before finally registering the time. The flight doesn’t leave for two hours, but Gray’s been here since check-in opened. He knows he’s being overly cautious, but it’s better than missing the flight. Plus, he’s anxious as hell about meeting someone new.

Nearly half an hour and another cup of coffee later, Gray spots a flash of bright pink through the crowd. He stands up, tossing his cup into the trash and taking a deep breath before walking over. She’s about the same height as him, hair pulled back into a short ponytail, dark sweatshirt and jeans that definitely flatter her—

“Hey!”  

Oh shit,Gray thinks as the figure turns around and smiles at him. She’s a guy.  

“Um.” Gray stops, his mind still stuck on tight jeans, nice ass, and continuing to apply it to the guy who is standing in front of him. “Hey? You’re… Natsuki?”  

“Natsu,” the man corrects, sticking out his hand. “I mean, Natsuki is what it says on here—“ he holds up his passport and waves it “—but if you call me that, I might have to kill you.” Natsu grins. “You’re Gray?”  

“Yeah,” Gray says slowly, brain still attempting to catch up to the fact that the pretty girl that he’d envisioned has been replaced by a guy – who is, admittedly, still very pretty. Natsu’s smile is warm and the bright pink of his ponytail stands out against his dark brown skin. His nails are painted dark purple, he’s definitely wearing eyeliner, and he has more piercings than Gray has ever seen on one person. A brightly colored tattoo peeks out from the collar of Natsu’s shirt and winds its way up his neck and behind his ear.  

“You okay?” Natsu asks, frowning. Gray realizes with a start that he’s been staring, and snaps his mouth shut.

“Fine, yeah,” he says quickly, holding out his hand. Natsu’s fingers are warm against his, and Gray realizes that his tattoos extend halfway down his knuckles. “Sorry, I- god, I feel dumb now, I, uh, I thought you were a girl.”  

Instead of looking offended, Natsu laughs. “It’s okay,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… it was a girl’s name. Before. I, uh, probably should’ve said something. Sorry.”  

“Oh! No, it’s—fine, it’s fine,” Gray insists. His eyes drop down to the multitude of buttons pinned to Natsu’s bag, and realizes that one of them is white, blue, and pink. The trans flag.  

Ah, Gray thinks. That makes more sense.  

Gray reaches into his pocket and pulls out the ticket with Natsu’s name printed on it. “Honestly, I’m just amazed I could find someone with the same name as her. It’s not very common.”  

Natsu takes the ticket, looking down at it and toying with his lip ring. “Ex, I’m assuming?” he asks as Gray gestures for them to head toward security.

Gray nods. “Yeah.” He’s about to say,  it’s a long story,  but it really isn’t. “We, uh... broke up after I bought the tickets.” Really, she had dumped him, but Natsu doesn’t need to know that.  

Natsu looks over at Gray as they hand their boarding passes to the security officer, but Gray keeps his eyes forward, wanting to avoid the look of pity. He’s surprised when Natsu touches his arm and gives it a gentle squeeze.  

“She’s an idiot,” Natsu says. “And she doesn’t deserve you.”  

Gray can feel his cheeks heat up and he looks away, focusing on the straps of his backpack. He’s not sure why the hell he’s so flustered. It’s probably because Natsu is nothing like what he was expecting, and he’s still trying to find his mental balance again.  

“It's her loss,” Natsu says, nudging Gray forward. “C’mon. Let’s go to Paris.” 

-----

Gray is much, much cuter than Natsu had expected, and he can’t stop stealing glances as they settle into their seats on the plane. Gray’s movements are graceful and his smile is shy, occasionally hidden by the short dreadlocks that fall in his face. His skin is darker than Natsu’s, and he’s wearing a t-shirt with a World of Warcraft logo on it that Natsu finds endearingly geeky.  

“Have you been to Paris before?” Natsu asks as they settle into their seats. He’s next to the window and he peeks out across the tarmac, watching the snow drift down from the dull sky.  

“Never,” Gray says, shaking his head as he tucks his backpack under the seat in front of him. When he shifts to do up his seatbelt, his thigh presses up against Natsu’s, and the touch is warm even through his jeans. It sparks something electric in Natsu’s chest.  

Stop it, Natsu thinks. You’ve known him for like... twenty minutes. Get a grip.    

Natsu has always fallen in love hard and fast. It’s gotten him into trouble before, and he refuses to do it again. Gray is straight – Natsu is still embarrassed about the whole ‘forgetting to mention that he’s a guy’ thing – and Natsu’s not going to make the next three weeks awkward.

“Have you?”  

Gray’s question takes a minute to register with Natsu, and he realizes that Gray’s still talking about Paris.  

“Oh, uh, no,” he says, doing up his own seatbelt. “I’ve never been on a plane before, actually.”  

“Well,” says Gray, “here’s hoping you don’t get motion sickness.”  

-----

Natsu definitely gets motion sickness.  

Half an hour into the flight, everything starts feeling uncomfortable. It’s too hot, the pressure in his ears is overwhelming, and every time the plane hits a patch of turbulence, Natsu’s sure he’s going to either throw up or faint.  

“Are you okay?” Gray asks, gently touching Natsu’s shoulder. Natsu shakes his head and immediately regrets it as his stomach churns.  

“No,” Natsu groans, leaning forward and breathing deeply through his nose. “Are we almost there?”  

“We’ve still got six hours,” Gray says apologetically. Natsu swallows down an embarrassing whimper, pressing his forehead against the seat in front of him. He’s not sure he can make it six hours.  

Gray says something Natsu doesn’t quite catch, and then he takes Natsu’s hand, pressing something into it.  

“Someone had Gravol,” Gray says, pulling a water bottle out of his bag. He hands it to Natsu, who takes it gratefully and tosses the pills back, hoping they work quickly. “It usually makes me tired,” Gray says. “Maybe it’ll help you sleep.”  

“Here’s hoping,” Natsu says, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. His cheeks are burning, but he’s not sure if it’s from embarrassment or the jolting of the plane.  

“Can I do anything to help?” Gray asks, hand on Natsu’s shoulder again. Natsu swallows hard, leaning forward again and taking deep breaths. When Gray’s thumb runs over his shoulder, Natsu sighs, leaning into the touch. There’s a moment of hesitation, and then Gray’s hand starts to move, rubbing comforting circles on Natsu’s back.  

“Thank you,” Natsu says, hands shaking as he grips his knees. Even through the nausea, Gray’s touch is thrilling, pulling Natsu deeper even though he knows better.  

Goddamnit, he thinks as he squeezes his eyes shut. I am so screwed.  

#fairy tail #ftlgbtales #gratsubingo2019 #gratsuweek2k19 #gratsu #ftlgbtfics #gray fullbuster #natsu dragneel #prompt: flying #fanfic #prompt #fluff #my fic

[mimymomo]

We We’re Inevitable PaulxEmma One-Shot

I posted this on AO3 and I’m really proud of it so I’m posting it here too. I really want to expand it as well so if anyone’s interested I will. In this story Paul and Emma get the happy ending they deserved. Plus there’s dogs!

“Well, goodbye Kelly! Good luck with the pot farm.” Emma, or should she say Kelly now, glances up to say thank you. A pot farm, far away from Hatchetfield, all she wanted not even a week ago. Now she didn’t know what to think. Sure, she’s happy that she didn’t die and turn into one of those fucking musical zombies, but she couldn’t help and think about all she lost. Sweet ole Bill and poor Charlotte, Professor Hidgens, hell even Nora, Zoey and the asshole creep Ted. And Paul…oh Paul. ‘You were supposed to make it back to me. We had that date to go on…and now what?’

“Thanks.” 

“Oh, and one more thing. You will be escorted to Colorado by a Mr. Ben Bridges. He’s waiting outside.” Emma shot the soldier a confused look, “oh, I don’t know any Ben Bridges.”

“Well according to our records, you two seem to be pretty good friends. Peep would like to see it become something more.” The soldier smiled, about-faced and marched out the hospital room, leaving Emma to herself. She looked around what had been her room for the past week, ‘well goodbye Clivesdale, goodbye Emma Perkins, goodbye life I never thought I’d miss.’ As she begun to pick up her few things, someone entered the room. ‘Must be the nurse here to check on me again.’ However, when she turned her head, she was greeted to a sight she never thought she’d see again.

“Oh my god, Paul?” he had his signature goofy, dazed look on his face that morphed into a large smile at the sound of his name. “You made it!” Emma cried reaching out to grab him and pulled him into a hug. She needed to feel him. She needed his touch. For a week she was forced to face the facts that Paul was dead and gone. But now he’s here in her arms, perfectly safe and alive. His skin was cold when she touched him, but Emma couldn’t bring herself to care, just wrapping her arms and tightly around his torso. “We made it!” They made it, they were getting out of it. It was almost too good to be true.

“Emma, I’m sorry. You lost.”

Emma felt her blood freeze over and her body stiffened. She pulled herself out slightly from Paul’s embrace. ‘Did he just?’ No, there’s no way, he was fine. He was just pranking her. She gave him a smile in disbelief. Why was he pulling something like this now?

“Paul?”

“Emma, I’m sorry. You lost your way.”

Emma’s smile vanished. This wasn’t a prank. She began to pull her hands away, “Paul you’re scaring me.”

Paul began to waltz her around the hospital room, singing along to a song she couldn’t hear. “I’m still the man you trust. It’s inevitable for us!”

Emma began to cry, “no! Get away from me! You’re not Paul, you’re one of them!” Paul, no – that thing inside Paul, wouldn’t let her go. Her leg was killing her from being paraded around the room. Soon more people entered the room – Professor Hidgens, the nurse who must’ve been turned in the last few minutes, Ted, Bill, Nora, some random guy in a suit. All singing and dancing, circling her in. Emma broke though the group and out the door, down the dark hallway only to be brought back right back to her room.

“It’s just a fucking loop! What the fuck!” she screamed, limping away from the multiple hands that clawed out to grab her.

Suddenly, her hospital room transformed, the walls in front of her and to her sides fell, revealing an audience staring and watching her. She was on a stage. Her bed and IV had disappeared and the infected people started to sing towards the crowd and not her. Emma saw this as her chance to get help, she called out to the audience and begged them to help her, call someone, throw her a phone, do something, anything! No one helped, they just sat there – some with wide eyes, shocked that she was speaking to them. Others just laughed at her, at her pain. Did they not realize she was about to die and turn into one of those things?

She felt herself get pulled away by what used to be Bill and Ted and pushed into the center stage.  Bill and Ted joined the other in kick line, singing some song similar to the one Professor Hidgens sang in his bunker a few days ago. Emma screamed as they drew closer. When she got to the edge of the stage, she tripped to the floor.

Paul yelled, “THE APOTHEOSIS IS UPON‑”

“US!” the rest of group finished, reaching out to nab Emma. Emma felt body go in slow motion as she yelled and extended her hand outward for someone to help.

Then everything went dark.

Suddenly, the lights came back on and the audience is cheering in a thunderous applause. The infected people start linking hands and bowing. Emma takes this time to try calling for help once more. Nothing changes. This time everyone is laughing, pointing at her.

“WHY ARE YOU CLAPPING?”

More laughing ensues. Then she’s being dragged away again, this time towards backstage. She had no escape. She just kept screaming and screaming, her growing hoarse. ‘This is it,’ she thought despondent. ‘This is where I die, in Clivesdale at the hands of people I once considered friends and something more. Haha…’ The last thing Emma remembers before entering the dark is the lyrics to the song Paul was just singing; ‘It was inevitable.’

“- Perkins! Ms. Perkins! Emma Perkins wake up!”

Emma flashes open her eyes and jolts upwards to the sound of her name belling yelled. She can’t breathe, the world is spinning, and everything was blurry. She could see the outlines of two people staring at her, but she can’t fully register who they are. She can feel someone touching her but that just sends her into a further frenzy. “Get away from me! Don’t touch me!”

“Ms. Perkins please calm down! I’m nurse Joy Drewman. We’re just here to check on you,” the lady with long brown hair wearing all white exclaims soothingly. “It’s okay, you’re okay now.”

After a minute of heavy breathing, Emma felt herself simmer down. She looked around the room, she was in a hospital. She was wearing a hospital gown, IV taped to her arm and a bracelet with her medical information tightly wrapped around her wrist. To her left was a light cream wall with swirling patterns on it and an ugly painting hanging up. To her right was the door. Nurse Joy was checking her vitals and behind her, the soldier lady from her dream stood near the door. ‘God,’ Emma thought, ‘I feel like shit! And my leg is on fire.'

After the nurse finished checking on Emma, she left leaving the other two alone in the room. The soldier cleared her throat to gather Emma’s attention, “Emma Perkins, I’m Lieutenant Parks from United States Military, special unit PE IP. PEEP for short.” PE IP? Peep? “So Ms. Perkins, do you remember anything that has happened over this past week?”

Emma couldn’t NOT remember. The singing, and dancing, all the deaths… But what about Paul and all the infected people that were just in here? Why wasn’t she dead right now? “The meteor, and everyone was singing…”

“Yes, that’s right,” Lt. Parks nods. “A meteor touched down in Hatchetfield a little more than a week ago, spreading an infection killing nearly everyone on the town. We found you near the crash site of our military helicopter. You had had a long thin metal pipe bent through your leg as well as a few broken ribs and plenty of blood loss. You were barely conscious when we picked you up. You’re in Clivesdale General Hospital now, and you just had surgery for your leg. This is the first conversation I’ve been able to have with you fully attentive. You were having a pretty severe nightmare, weren’t you Ms. Perkins?”

'Nightmare? That’s what that was, just a dream?'

Emma shook her head in shock. Helicopter crash…Clivesdale hospital…surgery? So, all thought that really did happen, she could hardly remember any of that. “So, the meteor?”

“Was destroyed along with the Starlight Theatre. Hatchetfield has completely been sealed off from the rest of the mainland as well as any means of transportation to get there. We blew up the Nantucket Bridge. It was pretty damn awesome. We believe the meteor was what was controlling the infected people. The hive mind, you could call it. Once it was destroyed, the people infected all seemed to drop dead.”

Emma wished those words didn’t bring her comfort, that she was horrified at the realization that so many people in her old hometown were dead. But after all that happened back in Hatchetfield, in that…dream? She just couldn’t help herself. Yet Emma still was pensive around the lieutenant, could she trust this lady in front of her? “Lieutenant Parks,” Emma cut in, “was there, um, are there any survivors?” Emma knew she should keep her hopes down, but she couldn’t help but ask anyways. But now, what did she even want the answer to be?

“That’s what I’ve come in here to tell you. When we picked you up there was a certain name you were continuously mumbling; a Mr. Paul Matthews.” Emma whips her head up, “Paul?”

“Yes, Mr. Matthews. I’m pleased to tell you that we did in fact find him.” Emma stops breathing and locked eyes with the Lieutenant, “Paul is…alive?”

Lt. Parks smiles, “we found him buried under the rubble in the remains of the old theatre. He was badly beaten and barely hanging on but, yes, he was and still is alive. He’s was just taken out of the Intensive Care Unit and placed in the general ward.” Emma felt relief course through her body. Tears sprang into her eyes and she began to shake in her bed. “Oh thank God!” she cried, “oh Paul!”

“He’s been asking about you ever since he woke up. I was coming to see if you were up for little a little trip to visit him in his room?” Emma shook her head violently, ignoring her newly developing headache. It was a no brainer, she had to go to him. See him with her own eyes.

“Okay then,” Lt. Parks said. “I’ll call a nurse to bring you a wheelchair.” She leaves the room and Emma is by herself. ‘Shit, it really was a dream,' she thought, her head in a fog. 'We really did make it. Paul’s okay. He’s okay…’

Around ten minutes later, nurse Joy and Lt. Parks re-enter with a wheelchair. The two help Emma off her bed and into the chair, then they’re off. Once out the door, Emma makes a mental map of the trip to Paul’s room. ‘Out the door, make a left, go all the way down the hall to the elevator. Go three floors up then take a right and down the hallway.’ They keep going down the seemingly never-ending hallway until they reach room #511. When they got the door, Emma felt the restlessness return as she squirmed in her chair. She didn’t know what to expect when the door opened, she just wanted to see him. Lt. Parks swings open the door and Emma held her breath as she gets pushed into the room. Paul was sleeping soundly. His eyes were gently closed, and the bed sheet placed over his body rose and fell with his chest after each breath he took.

“Oh God…” Emma whispers bringing her hands up and over her mouth. He was covered in burns, the right of his face, his hands up to forearms. Everything was either covered in a bandage or a cast. And on closer inspection, Emma notices that the sheet was oddly flat where part of Paul’s left leg should’ve been. Emma turns to Lt. Parks, the older troop seemed to understand what Emma wanted to ask without her having to ask. “When we found him, the bottom half of his left leg had been trapped under a large pile of concrete and wooden beams. We had no way of moving the rubble and the leg was too badly damaged to be repaired so we had to make the call to…” She pauses and looked down at Emma’s face. The brunette was in distress but in her eyes the Lieutenant could tell she wanted her to continue. So, she did. “We had to have an emergency amputation.”

“Amputation?”

“We removed his leg, up to his knee, in order to transport him.”

“Fucking hell…” Emma mutters in exasperation. Paul, her Paul. He was here, right in front of her – broken, burned and missing half of his leg. ‘What the hell did I make him do?’

At that moment, Paul begun to stir, slowly peeling open his eye with a few blinks. “Ughh…”

“Paul?” Emma reaches out her arm to grab Paul’s hand, lacing their bandaged fingers together. “Paul can you hear me?”

Paul moans and turns his head in Emma’s direction. “Emma?” Emma began to sob, “oh Paul! Paul you’re okay!” She kisses the back of his burned, shriveled hand before placing her forehead down upon it. “Emma? You’re here?” Emma sobs even harder, his voice was groggy and strained but not one musical note could be heard.

He was really here and truly okay.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Lt. Parks booms from behind, backing out the door and closing it behind her.

“Fuck Paul, I thought you had died.” Paul just smiles and wipes away some of her stray tears with his fingers. “It was going to take a lot more to stop me from dying and leaving you alone.”

Emma giggles, her sobs slow into a trickle, “apparently you dumbass.” Paul gave her another grin then groans. Emma panics when Paul starts to glance downwards at his body. “Shit, I got pretty messed up, didn’t I?”

Emma couldn’t look at him anymore. “This was my fault.”

Paul turns back to look at her. “Emma you can’t mean that?”

“Paul you wouldn’t have to that meteor if I hadn’t asked you to. Hell, I wouldn’t have even had to ask you if I hadn’t fucked up my leg from not wearing my damn seatbelt on that helicopter. Now look at you!” she holds out her unoccupied hand and waves it up and down over Paul’s body. The tears had returned in full force. “You’re in a hospital missing part of your fucking leg because of me!”

“No Emma,” Paul exclaims, “if it wasn’t for you, and your idea to go back and blow up that meteor we’d all be dead. Every single last one of us.” He grabs both of her hands and gives them a comforting squeeze. “You saved me, you saved all of us. Besides, what’s half a leg when the alternative is becoming a mindless singing alien?”

Emma gave him a small smile through the tears, “of course you try pass the glory off to someone else.” After a few minutes her tears whittle down to a few streaks and her breathing returns to what could be consider normal. They sat, or Paul’s case, laid there not saying a word. Hand in hand, enjoying the others presence. They basked in the sun blazing through the window and the quiet, which in the past week, they’d come to really appreciate it.

Not even five minutes later, Lt. Parks and another nurse enter Paul’s room and tell her that she had to return to her room. Emma immediately tenses at the idea of leaving him again, but they quickly inform her that she would be allowed to come and see him again tomorrow. Paul gives her one last squeeze then they separate. They smile at each other as she is exited out the door.

After that, for the following two weeks this becomes their routine – Emma would be wheeled into Paul’s room and would spend as much time as they could together, just talking, telling stories, good and bad, comforting each other. Then at the end of the day, Emma would be rolled back to her room, only to repeat this process the next day and the days after that.

When Emma was set to be discharged early the next week, stitches removed and now able to walk on her own, she pleaded with Lt. Parks to let her stay with Paul until he was discharged as well. She couldn’t leave without him, not again. And a few days later, with some favors being done by Peep, Emma was given special privilege to stay with Paul in his room. They even brought in a spare cot for Emma to sleep on, which she later moved into the narrow spot in between Paul’s bed and the window. Lt. Parks said it was because there were still some more things that needed to be done dealing with their relocation, but Emma could tell she was lying.

Soon Paul began physical therapy, three times a week, to help with his limited mobility. Emma could tell he hated going but he never outwardly complains once. Emma knew it was because he didn’t want to upset her. She hated that he put on a brave face to soothe her, not once thinking about himself. On days after a particularly difficult session, Emma would sit with him on his bed and hold him close to her body. She ran her fingers up and down in circles on his back and would whisper just how proud she was of him in his ear.

Their first date wasn’t a silent movie at some indie theater like they planned, no – it was some Hallmark tv movie marathon in Paul’s hospital room surrounded by candies and snacks from the vending machine and hospital cafetorium. Plus, some food Emma snuck in from a McDonald’s down the street. They two feasts on junk food while curled up together on Paul’s bed, making fun each movie’s overall cheesiness and predictable plot. When nurse Joy comes by to check on the two, she is greeted to two fast asleep thirty-year old’s, candy wrappers and McDonald’s boxes strewn about the bed. The position the two are in is too cute, she doesn’t even dare wake them up. She just turns off the lights and closes the door – the only lights now come from the tv screen and the buildings, cars and sky above that shine in from the window. She can scold them over the outside food tomorrow.

Some days are easier than others. On one of those REALLY bad days, Emma can’t seem bring herself to move out of bed. She just stares blankly out the wide window, she hates these days. The days where she can’t help but think back and replay the incidents of Hatchetfield over and over in her head. Think back to all that happened to her new friends, what had happened to her sister. Wonder why she is still alive when so many others deserve it so much more than her? Wonder why she kept even trying to live on in the first place…

Emma hears the door to her and Paul’s room creak open and begins to turn around. She expects to see Paul being rolled into the room per usual. What she doesn’t expect is to see Paul standing up in the doorway, slowly making his way over to the bed on foot, by himself, a wide smile on his face. Nor does she expect the prosthetic leg attached to his left knee. Sure, he’s using crutches and his steps are awkward and stilted, and yes there’s nurses standing only inches away to catch him in case he falls, but that didn’t matter to Emma. He was walking again.

“Surprised?” Paul asks. Emma is stunned speechless. He continues on, “they’ve been letting me practice walking with a prosthesis during P.T. They think I’m ready to get fitted for my own leg now. I wanted to surprise you. Did it work?”

‘This is why,’ Emma thinks to herself, getting up from her bed and walking over to Paul. ‘He’s why.’

They share their first kiss in room #511 that day.

A few days before Paul is discharged, Lt. Parks comes back and gives them their new identities. “Here are you new passports, ID’s and everything you need detailing your new lives.” ‘Emilia Bradshaw…well hey it’s better than fucking Kelly that’s for sure.’

“Parker Murphy huh?” Paul says, eyes glued to the stacks of paper in front of them.

“You look like a Parker,” Emma jokes, ruffling Paul’s brown hair that was in major need of a haircut. Hell, both of their hair was in desperate need of some good old TLC.

Paul cracks a smile and looks up at her, “and you totally look like an Emilia.”

They are being sent to a plot of land in Colorado. ‘Colorado? Why does feel familiar?’ Emma stiffens the tiniest amount and scoots closer to Paul, nearly sitting in his lap. Without thinking about it, he immediately brings one of his arms up and wraps it around her body. He used to these moments of jumpiness, they both get them. Without Emma noticing, Lt. Parks had been talking about their living situation. ‘God, I hope Paul has been paying attention.’

“- nearly three acres of well treated land and house is brand new and completely furnished. And yes, it’s paid off. It’s quiet, private and best of all, only around thirty minutes away from the nearest heavily populated city so you don’t feel like you’re too far in the middle of nowhere. It’s a great place…” Emma held her breath, “…to start a family.”

Emma exhaled at the words, then after fully realizing what Parks was insinuating felt her face grow exponentially hotter. She looked up at Paul, only to see that his face and neck had gotten even redder than hers. They briefly lock eyes, quickly turning away. “Well I think that’s everything. I’ll see you two in a few days to take you to Colorado.” Then Lt. Parks takes her leave.

“Hey Emma,”

“What’s up?” she still couldn’t look at him in the face.

“Have you noticed that even with the new names, our nicknames could still be Emma and Paul?”

“What, seriously?” she asks finally turning back to Paul to see him nod his head up and down. “Emilia would be Em for short but if you add the ‘a’ from the end, it could be turned into Emma.”

“Shit you’re right.”

“Parker is a bit of a stretch, but I guess it’s kinda hard to find another ‘pau-’ names. So, I think it’s close enough to prove my point. Do you think they did that on purpose?”

“Oh definitely,” Emma concludes, looking over the documents again. They’re actually leaving, like for real now. They’re going to start their new lives together. Emma sees Paul fiddling with a few sheets of paper, trying his hardest to remember their travel itinerary. ‘Start a family huh?’ Even at a young age, Emma was turned off to the idea of settling down with a husband or wife and having children. ‘There’s too much out there to see and explore. There’s no time to settle down,’ is what she always said to her sister whenever she asked. But now, after everything that’s happened to her, settling down with Paul didn’t sound too fucking bad at all.

Colorado was pretty, well at least the land where her and Paul’s new house was at was. Acres of fenced off grassy hills, colorful trees and the view of distant mountain tops in the front and dense forestry surrounded their house in the back, plus there was a pool. A freaking pool! The actual house wasn’t too shabby either. In fact, it was pretty damn beautiful. When Lt. Parks said brand new, she wasn’t kidding. The house was huge – three stories tall to be exact, with 5 rooms and three and a half bathrooms. The kitchen was decked with the nicest stainless-steel appliances Emma had ever seen. Two ovens, a flat top stove and a long granite island in the middle. Emma had discovered her genuine love of baking during her time at Beanie’s, so she looked forward to spending quite a bit of time in there. The living room was big as well, with a leather couch, La-Z-Boy recliners, stone fireplace, and a 75-inch flat screen with both Netflix and Hulu on it. If Emma thought she was going to pass out in the kitchen, the revelation of tv wasn’t helping.

“Holy shit Paul, I’m never leaving!” Paul just laughs at how excited she was getting after exploring each new room. In all honesty, he was feeling a bit overwhelmed at all the excessiveness of the house but seeing Emma’s giddy reactions helped ease that tension.

The master bedroom was the cherry on top of Emma’s perfect sundae. Inside was a king-sized bed, dressers plus a walk-in closet, and a window which opened to reveal a balcony. Then there was the master bathroom that had two vanity sinks, a toilet and not only a walk-in shower but an old-fashioned bathtub as well.

“Oh God I need to lie down,” Emma muttered staggering towards the bed planting herself faced down on top of the comforter. “I’m dreaming, this must be a dream!” her words come out muffled from her head being buried.

Paul chuckles joining her on the bed, facing upwards though. “Not a dream Emma. This is really your house now.”

“Now, if only a puppy appeared, then it would be absolutely perfect!”

“With the size of this place we could probably get like six dogs…” Paul exhales. Emma turns to face Paul in brand new vigor, “so we can get six puppies?”

“We’re not getting six dogs Emma.”

She puts on the cutest pout Paul has ever seen, “but we are going to get A dog, right? Or two?”

“I can definitely agree to that,” Paul chuckles. Emma leans over and plants a sweet kiss on his lips which he quickly deepens. His lips are slightly chapped against hers which are freshly coated in cheap convenient store chapstick – it’s perfect and warm.

“We should go right now,” Emma speaks, fire in her eyes. Paul just looks at her, flabbergasted by her enthusiasm. “We just took a long flight to Colorado and finished moving in all of our stuff and you want to go out and buy a dog right now?”

“Yes!”

Paul rolls his eyes then closes them, “give me an hour to nap and I’ll be ready okay?”

Emma gives him an exaggerated groan in response but still snuggles in close to him, closing her eyes as well. “Fine, but in an hour we’re leaving.”

Paul kisses her forehead, “okay Emma.” They’re both out in a matter of minutes, the only sounds in the room is the two’s peaceful snores in harmony with the other.

Five hours later they two are leaving the pet store with bags of dry food, canned food, treats and every other dog accessory known to man. A small dog in both of their laps: a tiny black and brown chihuahua-yorkie mix named Socks in Emma’s and an adorably scruffy three-legged golden poodle terrier mix named Bee in Paul’s.

For now, their family was complete. And Paul and Emma couldn’t have been happier.

#the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #paul matthews #emma perkins #paul x emma #lauren lopez #jon matteson #team starkid #starkid productions #starkid

[mythicamagic]

Macaria - Chapter One

Sesskag fic

Post-apocalypse AU. Human women were all but wiped out when the demons took over. What few remain have gone into hiding or concealed their true gender. When Kagome hears news of an orphaned little girl, she'll stop at nothing to protect her from the dangers of the world- including the city of demons and the infamous Killing Perfection. But is he friend or foe? 

I’ll only be posting the first chapter of this fic on tumblr, the rest can be found on my Ao3, Fanfiction.Net or Dokuga accounts via the same username.

Warning: This fic will contain dark themes (as I'm sure you've guessed since reading the summery.) So yes, there will be rape, allusions to sexual assault and general apocalypse grim stuff. If you are easily triggered by rape or allusions to rape, I suggest not reading this. A warning will be placed at the start of each chapter if they contain sensitive material.

One thing I will spoil right off the bat is to say that Rin won't be the victim of this. I don't really care if that kills any suspense, I just don't want you guys worrying about if I'll write something that grim. Women are essentially seen as cattle or tools for achieving status or pleasure in this AU, but I ain't no George RR Martin. Kagome will probably come across as a tad OOC in the beginning but circumstances have shaped her into someone rougher.

Chapter One

Dryness coated her tongue, and she swallowed, trying to push away thirst in vain. Water sloshed like a loud, constant reminder within her container, but Kagome ignored it. She needed to save it. Just in case.

She was unused to water being so scarce, but she'd trekked further out into unfamiliar territory than initially planned. The wildlife in her area had been thinned a little too much, numbers dwindling. Kagome hoped it was just a case of the animals moving to new locations and not over hunting, but she suspected the latter.

Hearing something like an engine, Kagome dropped down onto her stomach. She was uncaring when her chin scraped a rock, barely reacting as she kept low. The dirt road a little ways to her left had been a good way of keeping track of her location on the map, but it didn't come without dangers.

A cloud of dirt was kicked up, engine roaring as a truck lurched around a corner. Kagome could hear laughter as she stayed still, hidden by the thin bushes. As tires screeched on the ground, throwing dried earth into the air, the vehicle raced along the roads, climbing higher up the hill and disappearing around another corner. Kagome exhaled, holding still and pressing her ear to the earth. Not sensing the tell-tale slight tremors of more cars, she stood.

Dusting herself off, Kagome removed a twig from her short black hair, which had been pulled back into a ponytail. She adjusted her clothing over her flat chest, double and then triple checking her bindings hadn't come loose.

She then continued walking like nothing had occurred. But her heartbeat was racing.

Unscrewing the lid, Kagome took a swig from her container.

She'd had to make camp, allowing herself sleep just a few hours during the day before pressing on again.

After reaching the trading site a little later into the afternoon, Kagome glanced over her map, warily approaching. She liked summer. Despite the heat and the way sweat pricked the back of her neck, Kagome found it much preferable to the approaching Autumn, dreading the Winter on its heels. The days were already growing colder, never mind the longer nights.

Dusty old caravans and trailers that looked as though they'd been stationary for decades awaited her. Kagome rapped on the metal side of one, lingering in the shade.

"Eh? Who is it?" A slurring voice rang out. Kagome eased back as an old man stumbled out from the trailer, nose red and eyes half-lidded. She could smell the booze even before spying the bottle in his hand.

"I'm just passing through. Is it okay if I use your well?" She asked in her usual gruff voice, having gotten used to roughing the edges of her natural one. The man eyed her for just a little too long, but Kagome didn't react. "If you have any wears for trading, I'll take a look at those too," she threw in.

His mouth stretched wide beneath his white, bushy moustache. "That's more like it," he said amiably, waddling back inside to root through some things. She could hear the clanking of glass bottles among them.

Kagome busied herself with approaching the well, conscious of the way she walked even though it had practically become second nature to emulate a man. Still, around actual men, she was much more keenly aware of her acting. Reaching over the rim of the well, she felt her face flush- gritting her teeth when she realised her back had arched. Presenting her rear. Quickly straightening, Kagome hoped no one had noticed, distractedly lowering the bucket and holding onto the rope tightly as she eased it down. Even little things like that were dangerous.

The man somewhere behind her wandered out into the dusty courtyard, setting down a crate of goods on an old picnic table. He gestured to them with a flourish as she pulled the bucket back up, trying not to spill the water.

"Take a look and pick what ya like, stranger."

Kagome nodded, lifting the bucket out and carefully filling her containers. After securing the caps, she wandered over.

Picking out a dirty magazine, Kagome pretended to be interested, thumbing through it. Some pages stuck together with a sticky substance she did not want to identify. The old man had settled down into a deck chair, fanning his flushed skin. Kagome figured it had less to do with the weather and more to do with his warm blood as he took another drink of his beer.

She set the magazine down and brought out a set of matches.

"Rare find, eh? Sure beats all that time wasted setting up a fire."

Kagome rose a brow. She wasn't going to buy something to produce flames she could easily make with the right tools. Plus she had some of her own left. "How much?" She asked anyway.

"Hmm five tokens."

"T-tokens?" Kagome's blood froze. Her heart skittered in her chest, hammering wildly.

He let out a round of howling guttural laughter, holding his large belly. "Calm down, heh, you nearly looked as frightened as a girl there!"

Kagome laughed, swallowing her panic and elbowing him. "Ha! Don't you wish!"

The old man laughed louder, wiping his eye. He then tapped the crate, "keep lookin' ya joker. You got any veal to trade?"

She smiled and continued sorting through the junk, "no, just venison."

"Tch, woulda loved some veal."

Kagome was about to answer when the sound of an engine drew closer. She tensed, feeling like it were a prelude to exactly what she feared. A group.

From behind a dirt mound, an open top pick-up truck skidded into the old trading station, coming to a stop. A couple of men jumped out as others lazed in the back, nursing bottles or holding weapons.

"Oi Mushin!" One of the men called, grinning sharply. "You're not gonna believe this!"

"Mn?"

The man with a mohawk wandered over, his clothes tattered. "A girl's been found!" He breathed, eyes wide and shining. "Can you believe it? A real-life actual girl!"

Kagome's limbs had frozen, her hand resting on a bottle of old perfume. Shaking herself, she carried on sorting through the wears. Picking out some bullets perfect for a handgun, she casually glanced at the men. Slipping some into her pocket, she thumbed through a brochure to old New York.

"Slow down, feh…" Mushin took a swig of his beer, letting out a disgruntled noise. "A girl? Not a woman?"

Another man shook his head, adjusting his torn leather jacket. He picked up one of Mushin's beer bottles and tossed a bag of some sort of food at him as payment.

"Nah, the body of a woman was found near her, apparently. Took a tumble off a cliff. Shouldn't think that'll stop some of the lads from having a turn with her though."

"Sick…" the old man grumbled. "So, the girl…"

"Must be her daughter, but who cares! She might be a little thing now but we're gonna go get her! In a few years she can entertain us all!" The mohawk guy grinned, laughing.

"Heh, I wouldn't mind her entertainin' me as she is," called one man from the back of the truck. A few men burst out into laughs of agreement or jeers of disgust.

Kagome's hands tightened on the bottle, knuckles turning bone white. She fought not to tremble as her temples pounded. Her fingers itched for the knife on her person.

"You comin' or what old man?"

Mushin didn't move from his chair, observing the liquor in his bronze coloured bottle listlessly."…No. Ain't interested in terrorising a little girl, you should be ashamed of yourselves," he grumbled.

That caused her to look up. Lips thinning, Kagome reached into her pocket, sighing as she retrieved the bullets and put them back.

"Tch, suit yourself," one muttered. The men turned back to the truck with vague grumbles.

"Hey," Kagome called, steeling herself as she turned. "I'll go."

They paused, some men in the truck raising their brows. She knew she wasn't exactly…built for much, but she stood her ground. Her arms and legs had gained strength over the years, and she was confident in her stamina. Despite that, she remained quite petite and unassuming. Setting her jaw, she made it clear she wasn't taking 'no' for an answer.

A smile broke out on the mohawk man's face. "That's more like it!"

Mushin glanced up at her, a dusty worry creeping into his weathered face. As she padded toward them, he held up a hand slightly.

"Lad...don't get mixed up with these lot."

Kagome smiled just a little, resting her hand on the old man's shoulder in passing, giving a small pat before continuing on. Determination blazed inside her chest. She swung herself up onto the back of the truck, bracing against the side when it pulled away with a harsh lurch, kicking up dust. The old man stared after them until they were out of sight down the musty trail.

"Just so's you know for sure, you're gonna be expected to fight. The guys who have her right now won't wanna hand her over easy."

She looked up, finding the mohawk man's gaze trained on her.

"Not a problem," Kagome muttered, flashing her knife and adjusting the bow over her shoulder.

He nodded, lapsing into silence. The other men's bodies lurched or swayed depending on the terrain of the road- the truck making them move like packed sardines pressed into a can. Kagome hated it. She dipped her nose down and carefully inhaled her shirt under her heavy jacket. It smelled awful. Like sweat that had lingered too deep into the fabric.

Good. Kagome glanced around the men.

They didn't seem to keep any demon company but some could be ahead, holding the girl captive. She'd learned the hard way that they could sniff her gender out if she bathed too often. When her period started Kagome absolutely refused to risk leaving her underground base.

She noticed one man reading from a crumpled pamphlet of some sort. It had once most likely been smart and crisp, made from white card. Now it was dinged yellow and brown. She could vaguely make out the characters on the front cover.

Tokyo.

The name made a chill run down her spine, and Kagome glanced away.

"There they are!"

She looked up, joining the other men in readying her weapon. Yanking her bow over her head, she notched an arrow, squinting in the faint evening light at the road ahead. An old warehouse stood, bathed in the last splashes of purples and oranges from the sunset. A camp had been made, some cars and trucks parked outside. Men were running to grab weapons, some of them staggering. They'd been drinking. Celebrating.

Kagome could see no sign of the girl.

Something whizzed through the air, and a man to her left choked. He clutched at his bleeding neck, but Kagome didn't stop to attend to him. The truck skidded to a halt, the men opening fire on the stragglers in the camp. Kagome jumped over the side of the truck, keeping low as shouts and gunfire broke out. The bullets embedded themselves in the truck- its tires letting out harsh hisses as air escaped the punctures. Mental gave noises of distress as holes littered the paintwork.

She knew they'd run out of ammo before too long. These men weren't from Tokyo, they were impoverished wastelanders just like her. Rapid footfalls could be heard as men taking cover behind the truck chanced running toward the warehouse. Bait, she thought. As predicted, men from within the safety of the shelter opened fire. Kagome inched out from behind the safety of cover, aiming and letting her arrow fly when she pinpointed their locations. She killed one man in the upper right window. Then another down below- her arrow zipping through the slight gap in the shutter to pierce his eye.

Another man let out a cry, stumbling to the dust-laden floor. An arrowhead jutted out from the back of his head.

Kagome then relaxed a touch, only gave meagre amounts of cover, content to let the two sides destroy each other. She needed to save her arrows. The man with the torn leather jacket got impaled through the chest with a spear, crying out.

Wincing, Kagome exhaled, before ducking low and trying to avoid fire. She inched toward the side of the warehouse, keeping to the shadows and making her way around the back of the structure.

She hesitated once there, hearing voices from within. The rusted steel shutters were suddenly pulled up - an engine roaring to life.

Some of them were trying to escape. Most likely with the girl in tow.

Kagome readied her bow, heart thundering. When the car sped out of the warehouse, she fired, hitting the passenger in the neck.

"Fuck," she pulled out another arrow and notched it, jogging to catch up with the car as it skittered this way and that. Aiming at the rear tire, she let loose.

The car fumbled, lurching in the air in jumps as the tire flattened. Kagome raced forward, only to stop as something jumped from the passenger seat of the car.

The small thing rolled, letting out a cry as it was coated with dust and dirt, hitting a few sharp stones. When it finally skidded to a stop, Kagome approached, gazing down.

Brown eyes blinked up at her, widening. Kagome stilled. The roar of the engine died in her ears, and she distantly realised the car had stopped. A man cursed as he kicked the door open.

"Hey! Hand her over!" He yelled, lifting a gun.

Kagome snapped her bow up, aiming.

His eyes widened and his body shuddered, choking on his own blood when an arrow skewered itself in his neck. Breathing out with relief, Kagome turned her sights to the girl, reaching out.

"It's okay," her voice came out as gruff rasp.

"No!" The girl cried, stumbling back. "No, stay away!"

Kagome's brows drew together and she stepped closer, opening her mouth to try and soothe. To explain. But pain assaulted her senses.

She gasped, gritting her teeth as something wet trailed down her back. The pain was coming from the back of her left shoulder. Her skin strained around it. Kagome figured it were some sort of blade.

Reaching for her knife, Kagome's fingers slipped around the handle, sending it clattering to the floor. She turned, only to feel her head thrum as her face was knocked to the side. Stars clouded her vision. She couldn't react in time to the man before her.

Hissing, she felt her hair be grabbed- body tugged in roughly.

"Heh, you were pretty useful," the man with the mohawk grinned.

Kagome shuddered, curling her hand into a fist. But his eyes snapped wide before she could land a hit. He gasped, crying out with pain and sinking to one knee. Kagome pulled her hair free from his grip, startled.

The little girl…the little girl had lodged the knife into the back of the man's knee. Kagome stared, but quickly moved, reaching down to pull the knife free. Holding the man's chin, she slid the blade over his neck, stepping back when he coughed and blood spilled forth.

Kagome wasted no time in reaching down and scooping the girl up.

"Ah! N-no! Let me go! LET ME GO!" She cried.

"Shush!" Kagome barked, running to the forgotten car and ducking into the driver's seat. She awkwardly kicked the passenger's body out, resting the girl on her lap as she started the engine. "Please don't struggle, I kind of have a knife in me and I'd really- really appreciate your help right now."

"No, you're a bad man! You're going to hurt me!" The little one struggled.

Kagome gunned the accelerator, glancing in the rear view window and noticing the fighting continue. No doubt they'd soon notice the girl's absence and pursue. She grunted with pain as her body rocked back, the knife handle making contact with the leather seat and sending it deeper into her skin.

"I-I know you won't believe me but I'm a girl too," Kagome panted. The little girl paused in her struggles, wild brown eyes staring up at her. She whimpered, trembling.

Kagome chanced a smile, glancing at her briefly. "What's your name?"

"R-Rin…"

"I'm Kagome." She smiled tiredly, turning the wheel at a corner. "Do you know how to dress a wound, Rin?"

"Y-yes. My Mama showed me how."

Kagome figured she couldn't be more than eight years old. But it made sense to teach her young. Continuing down the road, she checked the gas. It would be enough to get them there.

"I'm going to drive us to one of my bases. It's underground, and you get in by lifting a hatch," she haltingly explained, panting as red spots assaulted her vision. She blinked them away.

"If I pass out, there's a map showing how to reach it in my right pocket," she patted her side. "Don't worry about me. Just leave me behind. But if we do reach it together, I need you to pull the knife out and dress the wound. It's in an awkward place so I don't think I can do it myself."

Talking felt good, calmed her down. Years ago, before the war, Kagome had been more of a chatterbox. She focused on the road, placing where they were from memory.

"W-why are you telling me this? Why are you…helping me?" Rin squeaked in a small voice.

Kagome breathed out, not answering for a while. "Us girls need to stick together, right?" She smiled wryly.

Rin looked as though she didn't quite believe her. She shifted over to sit in the passenger seat, holding her arms. She was dressed in a yellow and orange patchwork yukata. "I want Mama."

An old memory of a kind smile and home cooking drifted into Kagome's mind, before she shook it away. "I know."

She drove for a good 30 minutes more, feeling herself grow weaker, attention drifting. Shapes drew in and out of focus. Kagome squinted, before breaking- stopping just shy of hitting a sign. Turning the wheel, the car drew to a halt.

Carefully, Kagome managed to pull herself out of the car and take Rin's hand, stumbling down from the steep incline of the dirt road and hurrying into the cover of the trees. She'd released the handbrake, allowing the car to coast on without them. Hopefully if any men followed, they'd search around the site of the car when it inevitably crashed.

As promised, Kagome led Rin to the base opening, by now barely hanging on. She lifted the latch, teeth chattering. "Get in."

Rin hesitated, and Kagome felt the last of her patience draining away. "Rin, for the love of-"

The sound of engines further up, somewhere in the hills cut her off. Panicking, she grabbed Rin around the middle and jumped inside. Her feet landed on the rungs of a rope ladder, and she closed the hatch sharply.

Dropping down, Rin's startled squeak filled her ears.

"Shh!" Kagome hissed, covering her mouth.

Waiting in silence while bathed in complete darkness, she listened. The distant roar of the engines lingered, before slowly moving on. Kagome exhaled, shakily sitting down and drawing out her matches.

She lit the scarce amount of candles inside, knowing their location instinctively. The underground bunker was bathed in a warm glow. Rin glanced around the space with wide eyes. It had a bed, and shelves lined sparsely with books. Towards the back were some storage units.

Kagome stayed on her knees, struggling to breathe. To stay conscious. But it was a losing battle.

"H-hey!" She heard Rin call out when she collapsed onto her side. "Kagome? Oh no, Kagome please stay awake!"

The little girl might have said more, but Kagome couldn't stay focused enough on her voice to pick out the words. The world became soft colours.

Her head hit the floor a moment later. Everything lapsed into darkness.

"My Lord," came a bright, nasally voice, tinged with excitement. It came from a green toad demon as he hurriedly waddled into the room.

A cruel, handsome face stayed gazing out of the floor length windows. His chin rested on his clawed hand, body still and drenched in moonlight, as though carved from marble. From his position, he could almost see the entire city laid out before him. Yet the demon sat unmoving behind his desk, a slight sigh escaping him.

"What is it?"

Jaken stopped before the desk and bowed low, practically vibrating with happiness. "A girl!" He burst, panting. "Lord Sesshoumaru, I have heard tell of a girl being spotted in the Western Lands!"

"Girl…" Sesshoumaru tested the word, not sure he liked it. "Demon?"

"Regrettably human, sire."

"Hn, young?"

"R-regrettably…yes, sire."

He made a noise of disgust. "No doubt the human filth have descended upon her like wolves and torn her limb from limb."

"D-don't despair, mi Lord! If we make haste, we could secure her, I'm certain of it."

Long silver lashes slid shut. He could distantly recall the sound of children crying, mingling with houses burning. His claws twitched, and he sneered. "The others…have they already left?"

Jaken clutched his staff, raising his chin. "I don't think the other Lords know yet, I brought the news to you first!"

"Hn," lean muscles shifted as Sesshoumaru slowly stood, padding to the nearby window. "Send out a team of 10, let them search. Bring her back if she's alive. Burn her if dead."

The toad bowed sharply and turned, dangerously assuming he was dismissed.

"Jaken," a quiet voice halted him.

Wide bulbous eyes turned back, slight fear skittering over his skin. "Y-yes mi Lord?"

Sesshoumaru's reflection gazed at him, before sharp golden eyes shifted to the city once more. "They may only bring her back in the state they found her in. Not one may touch her."

"Y-yes of course!"

Sesshoumaru allowed him to leave, a quietness in his baring. Without the stupid ramblings of the kappa, the room lapsed back into silence. Exhaling, the Western Lord remained on the top floor of his skyscraper, wondering if it would be a kinder fate for the child to already be dead. He glanced down towards the building shaped like an open tulip flower, lingering in his eyesight nearby. Bright and glamorous lights decorated the outside. From his vantage point, he could see small shapes of men wandering into the building, demon and human alike. The rest of the city remained poorly lit, shrouded in some pervasive, grimy layer of filth.

Undoubtedly, it would.

#sesskag #sesshoumaru x kagome #inuyasha fanfiction #sesshomaru #kagome

[freedom-shamrock]

Eyes That Know Me, Blinking Slowly - Chapter Two

Also on AO3  <<< Go back to Chapter One

This is #24 in my ML WIP-Completion Challenge.

Chat Noir arrived at the akuma site after Ladybug had already engaged the enraged woman going by the name Botanatrix. She could obviously zap inanimate objects turning them into trees or causing them to sprout vines that zipped up their sides enclosing whole buildings and buses in a kudzu jungle.

"Wow," he said, dropping beside Ladybug behind a billboard. "She works fast."

"She really does," Ladybug agreed. "And while I've figured out her ability, I'm still stumped on the akumatized object."

"Hmm. Not good to get too close to an akuma with wild ranged attacks unless we have a plan," he muttered. "Want me to go play distracto-cat so you can study her further?"

Ladybug watched a few more moments before nodding. "Yeah. I think we have to go for that option. Carapace messaged that he'd be here soon, too, so hopefully we'll have some back-up by the time we need it."

Chat bounded off. "Excuse me!" he called. "While I like the jungle as much as any cat, I'm just not digging this remodel of Paris."

"Chat Noir!" the woman roared, which felt out of place and absurd given that she was plant-based. "Give me your miraculous!"

"How about… no?" Chat suggested, dodging the spray that shot out of her watering can. He hadn't seen what happened when she hit people with her power, and he didn't want to find out up-close and in person. Again. That pretty much always sucked.

"I have a special little something just for you, Kitty," she taunted.

Chat rolled his eyes. "That nickname is for Ladybug only. Not random Parisians, akumas, or Hawk Moth." He scrambled up the side of a building, pushing off in a huge arc with a back-flip. "Anyone else gets my immediate hissaproval."

He was vaguely aware that Carapace had arrived, and now all three heroes were engaged in the fight. In a moment of poor timing and phenomenally bad luck, Chat and Carapace's shield collided in mid-air. They really needed to train together more to prevent these mishaps. He landed in a heap, and before he could get back up, he felt the cold splash from the akuma's watering can.

"Chat! No!" He heard Ladybug cry out. She hated him getting hit by evil powers almost as much as he did.

"Good luck getting his help now." The akuma cackled before dashing away to cause more mayhem.

He'd made it to his knees by the time Ladybug and Carapace reached him. "I'm fine, my Laby," he insisted, watching little green plants fall out of his hair and onto his lap. They were in clumps and the leaves were small with gentle serrations. To his cat enhanced nose, they smelled slightly minty, and he wondered if they were from the same family. He should probably get up, but just couldn't bring himself to do so. He felt comfortable and oddly sluggish.

"Chat, speak to me," Ladybug said, catching his chin and directing his gaze at her.

He beamed at her. She was so pretty, and the sun was shining behind her. She was practically an angel with a golden halo. He felt his damnable purr kick in, and didn't bother masking it; it wasn't like she'd never heard it before.

"Dude, you okay?" Carapace asked.

"What even is this stuff?" Ladybug asked, brushing it off his shoulders and ruffling his hair to send the plants flying.

"Hmmmm," Chat murmured, leaning into her hand. "Smells good."

"Oh crap," Carapace muttered. "Does he react to catnip?"

"No?" Ladybug said uncertainly. "Well… he hasn't. But… I don't think he's actually been hit by it before."

Chat's face was turned toward the newer hero, but he resisted with a small whine. He wanted to look at his Lady. She was glorious. She smelled heavenly. He tilted toward her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"Yeah," Carapace said, resigned. "He's been Chat Noir long enough that he's got a pretty strong cat side, and this… it's definitely catnip."

"Oh god," Ladybug groaned. "Kitty how do you feel?"

"Floaty." He sighed and let himself tip fully onto her, delighted when he felt her arms around him. "Happy." He nuzzled her neck, grinning when that made her squeal, because he could tell it wasn't a bad squeal. He'd heard that noise in the past. "You smell nice Milaby," he murmured. "Sssoooo nice."

"Uh… you may want to discourage that," Carapace said quietly. "There's reporters here and he's blitzed. It's not fair to him."

"Kitty, we need to move you someplace safer while Carapace and I handle this akuma, okay?" she suggested, one hand rubbing his back.

He lost track of time for a bit, and the next thing he was fully aware of was that he was lying sprawled out in the grass under a tree in a park.

"You okay there, Kitty?" Ladybug called, dropping down beside him. She looked worried and that was never a good sign.

"Shit," he muttered. "What did I do? Was it awful?"

She quickly shook her head, but there was a hint of pink in her cheeks and he suspected she was just humoring him. "No. Not awful."

"It wasn't something you'd mind doing, I think," Carapace said in a careful voice. "But you'd probably prefer not to do it in public."

That didn't reassure him at all, and his face must have shown that.

"I promise, it's okay," Ladybug insisted.

"I'll go try to catch the Ladyblogger before she posts that video," Carapace offered. "Assuming she wasn't live-streaming, anyway."

"Oh fuck," Ladybug whispered.

Chat flinched. "What. Did. I. Do?" he demanded, completely freaked out now.

"Can you meet me on Notre Dame in fifteen minutes?" Ladybug asked. "I need to go recharge."

Chat Noir had curled in on himself as he watched the replay of Alya's livestream. Given that it had been live, there wasn't much point in having her pull the video. The Chat in the video had lost all understanding of decorum and personal boundaries. With the new camera she'd gotten for her last birthday, Alya had been able to zoom in and capture his wide blown pupils, giving him an oddly stupid yet constant kitten-eyed look. The distance and general chaos prevented her from picking up his purring and the conversation between the heroes.

"Oh my god," he moaned as he watched himself rub his cheek against hers, then against her neck.

"You didn't hurt me, Kitty," Ladybug insisted, rubbing his back. "Carapace said this was all normal cat stuff."

"I fucking scent marked you." His gloves dragged down his face as he forced himself to watch the rest of his shame unfold.

"It was kind of cute," she offered tentatively.

He shot her a glare. "I put a claim on you. Physically. Without your consent." This was so messed up.

"You're a cuddly kitty," she said. "And you weren't in your right mind. It's forgiven."

That should have warned him about what came next, but he was too horrified to properly process. He was treated to footage of himself attempting a full body rub against her, but he clearly lacked the balance necessary to wind around her. So his catnip-addled brain clearly felt that rolling all over her would be a good plan. He let out an involuntary hiss, flinching, but forcing himself to watch until Ladybug was able to scoop him up and zip away, trailed by Carapace.

"You seemed pretty out of it by that point, and we left you in a shielded area in an empty park," she explained, tucking away her yo-yo. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"I'm not okay," he insisted. "I'm not sure I'll ever be okay after watching that." Before he could dissolve in a rant about how messed up his behavior had been, he felt her arms wrap around him.

"Oh, Kitty," she whispered sadly. "This wasn't your doing, your fault. It's more like when a girl gets roofied at a bar. You're a victim here, and it's okay to feel gross and awful." Her hand slipped into his hair, scratching at his scalp in a way they'd discovered calmed him. "If you need some time to deal with this, that's okay. But please know I'm here for you, and if there's anything I can do to help you through it, please tell me. I'm not you, and I can't just know what will help, and I don't want to make things worse by assuming."

"Could…" he broke off feeling awful about asking, though he was sure she'd meant it. "Could you just hold me a little longer?" He hated how fragile his voice sounded.

"I'd be happy to." She squeezed him gently. "Anytime."

Proceed to Chapter Three >>>

Given the modifications to the plot of one story, I'm down to three more to wrap this project up, including one more chapter in this story.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Fanfic #My Writing #Fluff #mlfluffiction #Eyes That Know Me #WIP challenge #Kwami tendencies

[until-theend-oftheline]

When They Had Nothing - Part 5: Times Are Changing

Pairing: Stucky (Eventually)

Warnings: Steve’s health issues, War in Europe, Fighting, Violence, Suppressed feelings, Pining.  

Word Count: 4300ish

A/N: This is my new Stucky series. It starts with the boys as kids in Brooklyn and follows CAFA but from Bucky’s POV rather than Steve’s. I am sooo excited about this series which I have been working on for about 6 months as it’s written for @cabigbang

Art Inspired by WTHN by: @ischa-posts - thank you so much for taking the time to create art for my series!

Betaed by: @blacktithe7 @emilyevanston and @ifyougetkilled-walk-it-off - Thank you so much for all your help!

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

MASTERLIST - CABIGBANG MASTERLIST + AO3 LINK

December 24th, 1941

Steve was quiet as Bucky when they walked out of the enlistment office side by side. Bucky wasn’t sure what to say to him. He knew Steve wasn’t just angry. He was upset. He felt as if he wasn’t good enough, because of something beyond his control. The same way he had felt his entire life, but Bucky had somehow managed to lessen that feeling just by being his friend. He knew that, but right now Bucky didn’t know what to say or do.

He was relieved as hell they had rejected Steve. He knew they most likely would, but his fear that they might take him had overridden the logic. Which also meant he wasn’t completely prepared to deal with either of their mental states at the moment.

“Steve…” Bucky began, but the man next to him just shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about it. As big as Steve’s heart was, he had always been shit at talking about his own emotions. Bucky knew that, and he wasn’t going to push him on the matter. Not right now at least.

“Have you told your parents?” Steve changed the subject, and Bucky sighed.

“Yeah… I told them last night. I’m gonna tell them it’s final tomorrow morning when we go over there,” Bucky answered, emphasizing the 'we'. He was leaving no room for argument on that one. There was no way he was leaving Steve alone on Christmas morning, no matter if he felt like going or not. Steve must have sensed that because he didn’t argue. He just carried on with the conversation. Bucky knew it was most likely to distract his own mind, so he went with it.

“George must have been proud?” Steve asked, but regret flashed across his eyes when he looked over at Bucky.

“If he was he didn’t show it. He’s probably holding out for some rank or something,” Bucky muttered. “Mom and Becca were freaking out though. I think they knew there was a chance I would be drafted, but I don’t think they expected…”

“They’ll be fine.” Steve reached out, giving Bucky’s arm a small squeeze, and his mind instantly calmed. Steve’s touch had that effect on him. Everything bad got pushed aside, and there was just the two of them. “I’ll look in on them if you want me too.”

Bucky smiled, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders. He was amazed at how his friend always managed to find some way to do good even when he was at his lowest.

“I’d love that, Stevie. Thanks,” Bucky tugged him closer against his side as they crossed the street heading back to their place to celebrate Christmas Eve together. Maybe for the last time, depending on the state of the world next year.

Bucky was scared. He knew he was doing the right thing and he didn’t for a second regret his decision. He was doing what had to be done. People were murdered for nothing more than how they looked and what they believed in. As much as Bucky wanted to stay with Steve and his family, this was something he needed to do. He couldn’t look himself in the eyes if he didn’t, so he pushed his fear down and focused on tonight and Steve.  

June 14th, 1943

Bucky had headed straight for his and Steve’s apartment when he got off on leave. It was his last night in the States, and he wanted to spend it with his best friend.

Training had taken up a lot of his time. He thrived in the army. He was pretty damn good with a rifle, and he knew how to handle himself in a fight. He knew what was expected of him, and he lived up to it and more, which is how had managed to reach the rank of sergeant in less than two years. When he had told his dad, he had seen something that resembled pride for the first time in years. That had angered Bucky though, and he had promised himself right then and there that when he had kids one day he would never make them feel as if they weren’t good enough. He would never make them feel as if they needed to risk their lives for their sacrifice to matter.

Which was part of the reason he was here. He would go to tell his mom and sister goodbye before he left in the morning, but tonight he needed to be with Steve. It was his last night home, and there was no one else he’d rather spend it with.

Steve wasn’t home. Bucky knew his shift had ended a few hours ago, so there was only one place he could be. A movie theatre down the street where Steve had started spending more and more time. Bucky wasn’t around much anymore, and Steve needed something that could distract him from the numerous times he had tried to enlist under different names and area codes.

Bucky had been furious with him the first time he had tried tricking the system. He hated that Steve thought he had to do this and that he wasn’t good enough the way that he was. Bucky just wanted Steve to be Steve. He didn’t need him to go off and get himself killed or get locked up for trying. Bucky wanted Steve to think of himself first for once and not to get in a fight standing up for some asshole or dame that was just going to laugh at him anyway. Steve always saw the good in other people whereas Bucky tended to see the world the way it really was. There was always going to be another asshole and another fight. It didn’t mean that Bucky wouldn’t stand up for what was right every time, but it did mean that he thought Steve shouldn’t. When it meant fighting guys twice Steve’s size Bucky could deal with it. He didn’t like it, but Bucky had come to terms with the fact there was no stopping him. Asthmatic and sickly Steve in the smoky rough trenches of a war zone was another matter. His fears weren’t about Steve not being good enough, they were simply about Bucky wanting him to be safe.

Off course, Steve was Steve, and he was never going to be completely safe. Bucky sighed with the realization as he heard the sounds of a fight coming from the back alley. If Steve was here and there was a fight going on, that was were Bucky would find him. He just hoped he would find him before a trip to the hospital would be needed this time.

Bucky knew that Steve was a lot tougher than he looked, still, his heartbeat picked up as he saw the guy land a punch, knocking Steve to the ground. He rushed towards the guy who was undoubtedly going to kick the much smaller Steve while he was laying on the ground.

“Hey! Pick on someone your own size.”

Bucky grabbed a hold of his arm, dragging him backward, effectively placing himself between Steve and his bully like so many times before. Being Steve’s shield had become second nature to him. Bucky easily ducked out of the way when the guy was dumb enough to take a swing at him. He threw a punch he knew was going to make the guy feel his jaw rattle for a few hours, effectively getting his point across. Still, he couldn’t keep himself from placing a solid kick to the guy's ass as he scurried off. Bucky might not know what had happened to get Steve to pick a fight with him, but he knew without a doubt he deserved the kick and so much more.

Bucky turned back to Steve when the guy disappeared out into the street. He was relieved to see him standing, but he also knew Steve didn’t need pity right now.

“Sometimes I think you like getting punched,” Bucky snarked, before noticing the paper lying between them.

“I had him on the ropes,” Steve replied, wiping the blood from his face, standing up straight, nursing his head.

“How many times is this?” Bucky sighed. Part of him wanted to kick Steve’s ass for keeping this up. He knew it wouldn’t do any good, so he kept up the show, messing with him for it.

“Oh, so you are from Params now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlisting forms, right?” Bucky tried to throw in a little sense before keeping up his show, “and seriously? Jersey?”

Steve had been too busy trying to shake off the hits he had taken to look straight at Bucky until that moment. A rush of emotions flashed across Steve’s face when he saw the uniform, and Bucky’s heart broke. He had been so busy worrying about Steve he hadn’t thought that Steve might feel the same about him. Bucky had gotten in his fair share of fights in the past, but usually because Steve picked them, and he most certainly hadn’t run willingly into a gunfight before.

“Did you get your orders?” The concern in Steve’s voice was evident, even if he would never say anything. Bucky knew Steve wished they were doing this together, but more than that, it was war. Bucky was going to war, and Steve was scared to lose his best friend.

Bucky took a deep breath. Fear, pride, and regret mixed together in his mind as he stood up a little straighter, introducing himself for the first time since he had gotten his orders.

“The 107th. Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.” Bucky watched Steve nod slowly, coming to terms with the fact they might go a very long time before seeing each other again.

“I should be going,” Steve looked up at Bucky as if he was feeling ashamed he wasn’t shipping out with Bucky. Like he was somehow failing him, but nothing could be further from the truth. Bucky didn’t know what to do, so he smiled, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him close against his side.

“Come on, man,” he tried to sound chipper as he led him out of the alley. “It’s my last night.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose as he detected the stench of garbage coming from Steve, and he let go of him with a slight roll of the eyes. Off course of all the places he’d pick a fight it’d be somewhere he’d end up in a garbage can.

“We’ve got to get you cleaned up,” Bucky decided. Steve sulked but followed Bucky out of the alley.

“Why? Where’re we going?” Steve asked, causing Bucky to smile a little, handing him the paper he had picked up as he was getting off the train before coming to see Steve.

“To the future,” he answered, smirking at Steve when he shook his head at him. Bucky loved stuff like this, and it was a dream of his to get a job working for Stark when he got back home. Steve knew this, and even if he didn’t share his excitement for technology, he wasn’t going to argue with Bucky on this. It was his last night after all.

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure why he had gotten the idea to bring the women along. One of them, Connie, was a girl he had been seeing while he was on leave. All the time he had off he had been split between her, Steve, and his family. Tonight, she was bringing a friend and Bucky was hoping she would take a liking to Steve. It was his last Hail Mary to find someone that Steve could care about and that would care enough about Steve to make him see he didn’t need the war. He was important just being where he was, being who he was.

It was a little more than that though. Even if Bucky would never admit it to anyone, receiving the orders scared him. It was happening. He was actually going to war, and just for tonight, he hoped to forget that fact for a little while. He needed to forget, in a way, Steve couldn’t help him. Even if a part of Bucky wanted nothing more than to let him. It was a line neither of them had come close to crossing, and as much as Bucky wanted too, he doubted they ever would. So he brought the girls along. Though he hadn’t told Steve that until the two of them arrived at the expo.

Steve had been moping for the past couple of hours before getting to the expo. Bucky had been doing his best to cheer him up, talking about Stark Industries and what he hoped they were going to see. He knew it wasn’t Steve’s biggest interest but usually, Bucky’s enthusiasm was infectious. Not tonight though.

Bucky stuffed his hands into his pockets as they walked up to the Stark Expo, talking to Steve about all the reasons he should be happy he was staying home.

“You’re about to become the last eligible man in New York,” he reasoned. “You know there are three and a half million women here.”

“Hell, I’d settle for just one.”

Bucky could hear the slight smile in his friend's voice as he spotted the women at the entrance. He put on a big smile, waving at them as he answered Steve.

“Good thing I took care of that,” he answered, feeling Steve’s eyes glare holes in the side of his face, but he didn’t look over. He knew Steve hated when he set him up, but more than that he was afraid to look over and see the disappointment on his best friend’s face that it wasn’t just going to be the two of them tonight.

“Hi, Bucky,” one of the women answered seconds before Steve practically groaned at him.

“What did you tell them about me?” Steve asked, and Bucky knew it was safe to look over, only to see the slight annoyance remaining on his face.

“Only the good stuff,” Bucky teased before they reached the women. Bucky quickly introduced them to Steve as Connie and Bonnie and Bucky took Connie’s hand. She had been in a few of his classes before he enlisted. He knew she would love this place, and he also knew she was an amazing girl. She could be a temporary distraction though he wouldn’t mind writing her if she allowed him to be his distraction while he was gone. Maybe he could even see her when the war was over. Someone he could come home to and start a life with. He sent Steve a wink before heading inside with her, hoping he and the blonde would hit it off. Someday some woman was bound to see what Bucky saw, and he hoped it would be tonight, even if part of him just wished the world was different.

He grinned as the excitement filled Connie’s face as the voices sounded from the stage, and he let her practically drag him after her towards the stage. He loved that about her. He loved how easily excited she got about things and how she always wanted him to involve him in it.  

He hoped that even if this wasn’t normally Steve’s sort of thing he would still have fun or at least hang in there until it was time to go dancing. Maybe today was the day Steve would join in the fun instead of sitting in the corner watching the world around him. Bucky wished he would loosen up a little, even if just for one night. Even if it were for no other reason than his own peace of mind that Steve would be alright without him.

Bucky’s face broke into a huge smile as he saw the stage. Howard Stark was a genius. Getting to go to an expo like this was like a dream come true. Another dream Bucky one day hoped would come true was working behind the scenes of it. He loved science and progress. It amazing him what people much brighter than himself were able to come up with.

He had said that to Steve once and gotten chewed out for it. As the thought of that night entered his mind, his smile grew even brighter. In Steve’s mind, there was nothing Bucky couldn’t do and talking himself down was just not acceptable around his best friend. Bucky had been annoying about it in the moment, but he still loved Steve for his reaction. It helped him see himself in a different way than he usually did. Making Steve proud had somewhere along the way become more important to him than earning his own father’s approval.

However, as Stark started talking about flying automobiles, Bucky’s full attention went to the stage. He felt like a kid on Christmas Eve waiting for the sun to rise as Stark kept talking. He almost forgot to breathe when the car lifted off the stage hovering off the ground for a minute before crashing back down.

“I did say in a few years, didn’t I?” Stark joked, and Bucky huffed a laugh, looking back at Steve, wanting to share this moment with him on instinct. For a moment, he managed to forget that he would be far away from New York by this time tomorrow. He managed to forget his worries and fears right up until he looked back not long after as the show came to an end.

“Steve, what do you say we treat these girls to…” He stopped when Steve was nowhere to be found, and his heart clenched. He might have brought the girls along, but he wanted Steve with him tonight. He looked around to see the enlistment office across the show area. He knew on instinct it was where he was going to find Steve, so he excused himself from the girls with the promise to go dancing soon and went looking for his friend.

Bucky sighed in relief when he saw Steve standing outside the office still. He couldn’t help but smile a little when he saw him standing on the short platform that allowed visitors to see themselves in a uniform. He actually would love to to see Steve in one of those. He just rather not see him running guns blazing into a war, giving his reckless courage a chance to get him killed.

“Come on,” Bucky gave Steve a playful push on the shoulder to gain his attention. “You’re kinda missing the point of a double date. I told the girls we’re taking them dancing.” Bucky talked fast, hoping his stream of words would somehow talk Steve out of what he already knew he was going to do. At the very least for tonight. Bucky wasn’t sure he was quite ready to say goodbye to Steve yet. Not when he still could get a few hours with him before he had no choice but to leave him behind.

“You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you,” Steve obviously lied, it made Bucky hurt. Steve had never been a good liar, but he had also never lied so blatantly to Bucky before. He hated it. He hated it so much, the anger slipped into his voice when he spoke.

“You’re really gonna do this again,” Bucky glared at Steve, who didn’t budge.

“Well, it’s a fair. I’m gonna try my luck,” he answered, not really looking at Bucky. He knew Steve didn’t want a fight, and honestly neither did he. His anger and fear just got the best of him. So he snapped.

“As who? Steve from Ohio? They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you,” Bucky knew those words were going to hurt Steve. He had never hidden how bad of an idea he thought it was for Steve to try and enlist, but he had also never put it nearly as blunt before.

Steve tried to hide how hurt he was, not looking up at Bucky as he tried to explain himself. “Look, I know you don’t think I can do this…”

“This isn’t a back alley, Steve. It’s a war,” Bucky interrupted. He wasn’t trying to hurt Steve. Hell, he never wanted to do that, but he’d rather his words hurt him than a bullet in a foreign European country took Steve’s life.  

“I know it’s war.” Steve sounded calmer than ever while Bucky was starting to raise his voice a little, desperate for Steve to see all that Bucky wanted, all he had ever wanted, was to keep Steve safe.

“Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs,” Bucky hissed at him. Safe jobs were what he wanted to say. Jobs that wouldn’t get Steve killed and would ensure he was there for Bucky to come home too when this damn war was won.

“What do you want me to do? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon?” Steve gave back, the annoyance starting to become clearer in his voice.

“Yes! Why not?” Bucky answered, knowing how ridiculous he sounded to someone like Steve. Being someone who always did the right thing and stood up to bullies. This was who Steve had always been and Bucky knew it. The thought of losing him just scared him. This wasn’t a guy trying to steal his lunch money. This was thousands of guys with guns, happy to kill the little guy that couldn’t defend himself just because he wore the wrong colors.  

“I’m not gonna sit in a factory,” Steve objected, much to Bucky’s growing frustration.

“I don’t…” Bucky started but stopped when Steve raised his voice. He rarely did, so Bucky knew the battle was lost. Hell, he knew that before he started, but fear hadn’t let him admit that until now.

“Bucky. Bucky come on! There are men laying down their lives. I’ve got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.” Steve was good at giving speeches like that. He was good at making people listen and see his side of things, but Bucky knew this wasn’t all it was about. He knew and understood Steve a lot better than his friend gave him credit for.

“Right,” Bucky answered glaring at him. “‘Cause you got nothing to prove.” The tension was thick between the two men, and Bucky fought the urge to shake Steve and tell him all he wanted was for him to stay safe. All he wanted was for both of them to have lives to live when this war was over. He didn’t though, and the tension was broken by Connie yelling at him from across the road.

“Hi, Sarge! Are we going dancing?” she called, and Bucky turned around putting on his happy face.

“Yes, we are.” He held out his hands to the side, giving her a slight smile before returning his attention to Steve. The stubborn look on his best friend’s face made him see he had lost this one. He just hoped the enlistment officers wouldn’t ever get desperate enough to actually take him.

Bucky sighed, shaking his head, not looking directly at Steve anymore. It hurt too much to say goodbye like this. He shouldn’t have fought him. Their last words shouldn’t have been spoken in anger.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Bucky tried to lighten his tone as he backed up, but gave Steve a look to tell him he was serious. He wanted Steve to know that no matter what was said between him, he would always love him, and he would always have his back.

“How can I?” The playfulness in Steve’s voice made Bucky stop from turning around. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Bucky held back his emotions. Not sure if it was tears or laughter, but he stalked back towards Steve.

“You’re a punk,” he said fondly, the same relief he saw on Steve’s face mirrored on his own as he hugged him, smiling at Steve’s response.

Even if it were for no other reason than his own peace of mind that Steve would be alright without him.

“Jerk.”

Bucky couldn’t hold Steve like he wanted too. They were standing in the middle of the street, but at the very least he got to say goodbye properly even if the night was too short lived for his liking. He hated having to say goodbye at all, but he was happy Steve wasn’t coming with him.

“Careful,” Steve said giving Bucky’s hand a small squeeze before he could back away. All Bucky could do was smile. If he spoke now he was sure his voice was going to fail him. Which was also why the only response he had to Steve calling out after him, “don’t win the war till I get there,” was a salute.

Bucky turned around, blinking hard to chase the tears away and forced a smile on his face before he reached the girls, wrapping his arm around Connie’s waist as he did.

“Come on, girls. They are playing our song,” he playfully flirted, while every fiber of his being was screaming at him to go back to Steve and convince him to come back home with him, to convince him that one more secret between them might not be so bad, but he didn’t. He danced with the girls, and he went home with Connie. She helped him forget, and when the morning sun rose, he kissed her goodbye with the promise he was going to write her.

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When They Had Nothing

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[taesunglifer]

Game

Hoseok x Reader

(Decided to post it in it’s entirity off of AO3 for those that don’t go on that site and read. 

ENJOY....Feel free to leave comments.)

You've dreamt about Jung Hoseok ever since you found BTS.

Now is your chance of meeting him at a fan meet.

And things turn out FAR different than you ever DREAMED.

Your palms began to sweat as you neared the fan meet table.

It nearly broke you, the cost of the fan meet and concert tickets but for the chance to get to see the man you had pined over for an eternity in the real deal flesh, to talk to him…you’d eat grass if that’s what you had to do.

“If one more person bumps into me, I swear I’m going to lose my shit up in here” your friend said through gritted teeth in your ear.

You’re surprised you heard her over the sound of the blood rushing through your ears. Three more people and you’d be standing in front of Kim Namjoon.

Two more.

You fidgeted from foot to foot, anxiously eyeing the opposite end of the table where Jung Hoseok sat.

One more.

Oh, come on bitch, Namjoon doesn’t care that you collect the same figures he does! You only collect them because of him! And what’s the girl doing lingering in front of Jungkook! Now no one is in front of Taehyung OR Hoseok. KEEP IT MOVING SHIT NIPPLE!

You rubbed your hands nervously on your pants as you stepped up in front of Namjoon.

How awesome is it that you get to see Hoseok’s dick anytime you want to Is what you wanted to say…But you know that’s probably not appropriate for a fan meet…or in general…or at least while you’re sober. So you opt for “You’re an amazing leader, Namjoon. An inspiration to us all.”

Well like he hasn’t heard that 427 times…today…

He smiled signing your book, thanking you and you moved on to Kim Seokjin.

The next several minutes were a blur of trying to come up with something interesting to say to the other 6 members of BTS….

‘So glad you could visit our city…I hope you’re able to get out and see some sights…

‘Make sure you visit the aquarium, they have a whole area where you can touch various animals’

LAME. LAME. SO LAME.

And now here you were. You licked your lips nervously as you turned to stare into the warm chocolate eyes of a face you had memorized from the tip of his perfect nose to the tossled dark hair to the freckle on his lip. How you would give anything to leap across the table, crashing your lips with his and ripping off every layer of clothing he was wearing.

But he was looking down and signing your book. You stepped in front of him, tripping over your feet, sending your hand across the table and colliding with his. It knocked his pen askew and he drew one long line across his signature and off the page.

“OH!” he exclaimed and glanced up at you. Your eyes locked and the heat that radiated in that look could have cooked a Thanksgiving meal.

“I-I-I-I’m…s-s-sorry about that…’ he stammered.

“No!” you said rather loudly, startling Taehyung.

“AYE! What’s wrong?” he said, clutching his heart. He looked from you, to Hoseok, then back at you.

‘What’s going on here?”

You blinked, bringing yourself out of the trance you feel Hoseok put you in and turned to Taehyung.

“Oh…Uhm…He said he was sorry for messing up my book but it was all me. My fault. Completely.”

You looked back at Hoseok who continued to stare at you. Now it was making you nervous. Did you have something on your face? Were you that unattractive that he had no words?

You strained to remember what it was you had planned to say to him when you were in front of him. And you couldn’t remember a fucking thing.

“Miss? We have to ask you to exit now.” A voice to your right said to you.

Your heart sank.

No…No…No I have so much more to say to him! Much more than yelling NO at him…

You felt the tears prick the insides of your eyes as they lead you away from your hope. You shoot one last glance over your shoulder to find him still staring at you in that way…

This is definitely not how this was supposed to go.

++++++++

The knock on your hotel door startled you, bringing you out of a steamy sex dream you were having about Yoongi.

Yoongi?! What the fuck? How’d YOU wind up in my dream?

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, trying to decide if you really DID hear a knock on your door or if it was the sound of the headboard hitting the wall as Yoongi was pounding into you  from behind.

Well he is my bias wrecker….

The knock came again. You stumbled through the dark room, stubbing your toe on your suitcase in the process. You passed by your friend’s bedroom and could hear her soft snores even through the closed door.

Looking through the peephole, seeing a headful of dark hair.

Who in the hell..? Someone must be drunk and trying to find their room.

Opening the door, you felt like someone had put a roundhouse kick to your midsection.

There stood Jung Hoseok…He wore sunglasses but you knew that nose, those lips, that jawline…that lip freckle.

“I seriously must be dreaming.” You said aloud.

A smile crept across his face.

“Nope. It’s me.” He removed his sunglasses and stuck them in the pocket of the white hooded jacket he wore. You tore your eyes away from his face long enough to take in his lean dancer body. From the jacket to the Puma track pants to the slippers he wore.

“I know this is probably really weird for you. You’re probably wondering how in the hell I even knew where you were staying.”

You finally stopped staring at his thighs long enough to move your eyes back up to his face.

“I honestly don’t give a shit how you found me or the fact that if it was anyone else, I would be slamming the door and calling 911. You’re Jung Hoseok. You get a pass.” You said.

He laughed and ducked his head.

“Well that’s…comforting? I don’t feel like such a sleaze then.”

You tilted your head to the side, eyeing him.

“Your name should never be in the same sentence with sleaze. Ever.”

He smirked and eyed you carefuly. Licking his lips he said “Would it be too much to ask if I could come in?”

Your stomach turned 17 flips as you stepped aside to let him in.

No seriously…this has to be a dream.

You pinched yourself as you walked after him back into your room.

Good lord, his ass is even more perfect in person…

He glanced around the room and nodded.

“Nice..”

You scoffed. “I’m sure it’s Motel 6 compared to where you are staying.”

He grinned and shrugged.

“We do alright.”

You stared at each other as you felt the temperature rise in the room.

Hoseok. In your hotel room. Alone.

Why in the hell are we still wearing clothes…?

“So what do I owe this pleasure?’ you finally asked, curiosity winning out.

Hoseok cleared his throat and now it was his turn to fidget.

“Tell me if I’m way off base here but I felt this…connection. This…spark…this…SOMETHING…when I saw you at the fan meet. Something I had never experienced and I just had to find you again and see what it was. To see if I could find out why I felt that way. Does that sound weird?”

You struggled to find words.

Hoseok just told you that he felt a spark…with you…NO SERIOUSLY, AM I DREAMING??

“I felt something too but I thought it was just because I’ve been staring at you 29 hours a day for the last eternity.” You said, noticing your voice shake.

He laughed and nodded.

“Well considering I had never seen you before, I can’t claim the same thing.”

You smiled and felt your eyes move to the floor.

Shit he’s so beautiful.

“So….what does it all mean?” you asked, feeling your breath hitch in your chest.

Hoseok unzipped his jacket, shrugging it off, revealing a sleeveless black shirt underneath. His muscles rippled as he then tossed the jacket on top of your table.

“It means…I want to make you come like you’ve never come before.” He said stepping forward, invading your personal space.

You felt your eyes widen at the words that came out of his mouth.

“Uhm…I’m…I…I’m sorry…Can you repeat that because I don’t think my ears are working.” You stuttered, thinking your brain was really being a bitch right now…making you think this delicious man wanted to get you in bed.

“I SAID,” he replied more matter of factly, pushing a lock of hair off your face that had escaped your messy bun, “I want to make you come so hard that it physically hurts.”

You licked your lips, suddenly salivating.

“Well, that’s actually not what you said the first time…But both phrases sound amazing coming out of your mouth.”

A smile played across his lips as he cocked his head to the side. His eyes traced every inch of your face longingly.

“So this is something you’d be interested in?” he asked quietly.

WHO THE FUCK WOULDN’T??? A dead person, that’s who…someone with no brain…someone who hates BTS…no, even an anti would screw his brains out. They aren’t that crazy.

“If I say no?” you asked, suddenly hating yourself for letting those words even enter the room

He stared at the ceiling pondering.

“I’d be severely disappointed. I’d feel rejected. I’d go back to my room and jack off to the thought of you.”

His eyes met yours, waiting.

GEEEEEZUS THIS IS HAPPENING.

“Well, I’d hate to think of us pleasuring ourselves alone after I rejected you so let’s just go with your suggestion.”

He grinned, sliding his hands around your waist and pulling you in close to his chest. Suddenly his lips found yours. Soft, warm, tasting faintly of…what was that…lemon lime?

SPRITE!

You giggled when the realization hit.

“Whats so funny?” he asked against your lips.

“The fact that we are still standing here fully clothed.” You lied.

He raised an eyebrow, backing the two of you up until his legs hit the bed. He sat down, kicking his slippers off.

You straddled him, feeling the muscles in his thighs contract under you as you settled down.

Hoseok’s stuck his right index and middle finger in his mouth while pulling your shirt up with his left hand. His hands traveled under your shirt, cupping your right braless breast. His wet fingers rubbed across your nipple gently, sending the nerves between your breast and clit into a frenzy.

You moaned slightly under his touch as he worked your nipple back and forth between his fingers. You didn’t realize that your eyes were closed until you gasped at his touch on your left breast. You moaned again louder.

“God you sound hot.” Hoseok said lightly into your right ear. More sensations flowed down between your legs as he sucked on your earlobe.

You tugged at the hem of his shirt, wanting it off. You wanted your hands on his body. You NEEDED your hands on his body. He let you remove his shirt and you flung it over your shoulder. Your hands traced down his defined chest and across his impressive abs.

“So this is what you’ve been hiding under all these clothes…” you murmured.

He laughed hanging his head.

“We decided to let Jungkook have all the attention this comeback. I’ve had my time.”

“Getting a peek at your abs during the Boy Meets Evil trailer is NOT a time…that was a bite, it wasn’t even a snack.” You said, eyebrows furrowed.

He threw back his head and laughed. His body vibrated under yours and you wondered if that was an erection you were feeling underneath you. Only one way to find out.

As he continued to laugh, you daringly snaked your hand in between your bodies under the waistband of his pants, cupping his clothed erection.

He gasped so loud you were worried your friend would wake up.

You immediately silenced him with a forceful kiss. You lightly traced your hand across his clothes length and felt him twitching. He groaned into your mouth, egging you on.

“Why are you still wearing pants?” you asked him, nipping at his bottom lip.

You pulled back to stare into his dark eyes and saw nothing but carnal desire. So everything you had thought about Jung Hoseok seemed to be true – the man was one big hormone.

You felt yourself being flung into the air and your back hit the mattress. Shaking your head, startled, you realized that he had flipped you over and was yanking his pants and boxers off in one motion.

You felt your mouth pull into an ‘O’ as you caught sight of the glorious naked Bangtan dance leader. He was slim but very muscular. You watched the muscles contract across his thick thighs, his abdomen, his pecs….your eyes dropped to his throbbing cock and you sucked in a breath. Much bigger than you had dreamed but you had room for it. It might be a tight squeeze but isn’t that what made it even better?

You licked your lips as you eyed him hungrily.

“See something you like?” he asked, grinning like the sunshine he is.

“Oh I don’t just like. I love. I want.”

You shot forward, dropping to your knees in front of him and licked the underside of his reddened member. His hands quickly yanked your hair from the confines of the rubber hand and he dug his nails into your scalp. You hissed at the pain but dismissed it even quicker.

You tongued your way up his shaft and dipped into his slit. While your left hand massaged his balls, your right began to pump the bottom and your mouth found his head, tongue swirling.

“MmmHmmmm…O-O-Ohhhh my g-g-godddd…” Hobi moaned loudly, not bothering to keep his voice down. He probably had no idea you had a room mate but at that moment, you didn’t care if she woke up. You had your mouth right where you wanted it to be.

You slowly bobbed your head up and down his leaking cock, sucking your cheeks in to give him the tightness you knew he’d probably like. And he responded with an even louder moan.

“F-F-F-FUCK. YES. PLEASE. Like that. Keep going. Go go go go go….” His voice trailed off as his breath hitched. His hips bucked forward, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth.

Good thing I have no gag reflex.

You glanced up, taking in his toned chest to see him watching you balefully.

Holy shit, I didn’t think this man could get any more beautiful and yet…his blowjob faces are amazing.

He placed his hands on your shoulders and gently pulled you up off your knees. With one rough shove, he pushed you onto your back and quickly spread your legs, yanking your Mang pajama pants off in the process.

“Nice pants by the way. I have the exact same ones.” He grinned as you felt your insides turn to mush.

You giggled as he tossed them to the floor. He ran his hands up your calves, across your knees and stilled at your thighs.

Your breathing picked up as you watched him closely, dying with anticipation.

He leaned down, painfully  slow as his tongue poked through his lips, his eyes watching you intently.

You felt your heart race faster and faster, fully expecting it to leap out of your chest.

The moment his tongue touched your clit, your head fell back against the pillow and you let out a long groan.

“FUCKKKKKKK.”

His tongue lapped at your clit slowly and moved gently down your folds, sucking and kissing.

“I love a wet woman.” He replied.

You felt a grin in his voice but you were too weak to lift your head to look at him.

Your hands pushed through his hair, pulling at the ends.

Sexy and Hoseok went hand in hand.

You gasped as you felt his fingers push inside you and scissor quickly.

You felt your stomach tighten with each pass over your clit and OHHHHHHHH….he found your g-spot.

“FUCK YOU HOBI!” You screamed, not bothering to keep your voice at any low decibel.

He laughed against your clit, sending further vibrations through the nerves that ran down your thighs and into your feet.

This man sure knew his way around your body.

It was then that you felt the heat of his mouth leave you and you bolted upright.

He had sat up, still in between your legs with that sexy smirk only Hobi could have.

He slowly ran his hand up and down his still pulsing cock, eyeing you.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked, winking.

Did he just…fucking WINK at me? GODDAMMIT that’s hot.

“Weren’t you just traveling around my wet vagina? You tell me if I’m ready.”

He threw his head back and laughed deeply as you smiled at your boldness.

“True…my face is covered in…well…you..”

He ran a single finger across his lips and then dipped it into his mouth, licking it cleaned.

Your eyes widened, watching him.

He then used that finger to beckon you closer to him. You inched closer, bringing your lips within inches of his.

“Ride me.” He whispered against your lips, sending shockwaves down your back.

You don’t have to ask me twice.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and slowly lowered yourself onto his waiting cock. You closed your eyes and let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, feeling him fill you up.

You opened your eyes to find him watching you again…he was reveling in your reactions.

He crushed his lips against yours as he tightened his grip on your waist, raising you up before slamming up into you.

You cried out at the intense force against your g spot.

Hobi licked a single track up the left side of your neck, capturing your earlobe in between his teeth.

You bucked your hips down, grinding into his cock as you felt it throb through your body.

“Yes, baby…Come on…” he whispered into your ear as moans fell out of your mouth at every thrust.

“You feel so good…so good…” he groaned, biting the tender spot between your shoulder and neck.

“Fuck, Hobi….i’m getting so close..”

You felt the familiar heat rise deep in the pit of your stomach.

“Don’t you dare come yet…Don’t even think about it…” he growled into your ear, his hands finding your nipples and pinching fiercely.

You cried out as the sensation shot through your body and straight to your sopping core.

“Hoseok…FUCK…I can’t….” you felt tears prick your eyes at the over stimulation. You knew there was no waiting.

He picked up the pace, leaning backwards to give you more traction against the bed. You rocked your hips quickly, feeling his cock rub your swollen spot over and over.

You licked at the sweat that started dripping down his chest and ran your tongue over his left nipple.

He gasped, his hands roughly grabbing your ass, fucking into you with an animal ferociousness.

You felt the heat spread through your body and burst out of you, no doubt soaking his stomach and thighs.

“I’m…I’m…OH MY GOD…HOSEOK! I’m COMMMMMMMING…” you screeched, not bothering to care who heard you.

“FUCK!” he screamed along with you, his body shuddering under the intensity of his, and your, orgasm.

Your legs shook as you rode the orgasm out, not wanting it to end.

Hobi rubbed circles into your sweaty back as you both panted, trying to bring your heart beat down to a normal level.

You realized you had buried yourself into his chest when the orgasm hit and sweat was now pouring down your face, mixing with his.

“Wow…i….” he stammered.

You grinned, knowing exactly how he was feeling. You sat up, cringing at the pain that radiated through the lower half of your body.

You stared into the eyes of the man you had dreamed about for eternity. He winked at you, still panting softly.

“Well…you made me come like I’ve never come before…so there’s that…” you said through swollen lips with a raspy post sex voice.

He grinned widely and chuckled.

You both stared at each other, the events still hazy in the quickie.

KNOCK KNOCK.

Your eyes blinked open.

A DREAM? A GODDAMN DREAM?

KNOCK KNOCK.

Shit.

You stumbled through the dark room, stubbing your toe on your suitcase.. You passed by your friend’s bedroom and could hear…

Wait…

You could hear her soft snores even through the closed door.

Your heart raced as you looked through the peephole, getting an eyeful of dark hair.

No….it can’t be….

You fumbled with the latch and opened the door…and felt like someone had put a roundhouse kick to your midsection.

There he stood…no sunglasses, but still…there he stood. Jung Hoseok, tossled and delicious.

This still has to be a dream.

He opened his mouth to speak but you interrupted him.

“Let me guess…You’re here to make me come like I’ve never come before?”

A smile crept across his face.

“I came back to get my sunglasses that I left here earlier but if you’re ready for round two, I’m game.”

#hoseok #hobi #jhope #bts fanfic #bts fan fiction #bts stories #Hoseok x reader #Hobi x Reader #Jhope x Reader

[rather-impertinent]

hmmmmmmmm it's so difficult to choose! 3 short drabbles i think

Hi anon! Here are your 3 short drabbles, I hope you like them! These were very fun to write so thank you for requesting them! I think I’ll post them on AO3 when I start a fic collection during hiatus! Have a nice day 💓

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8) Dwight’s boots clicked against the old wooden floor of the first floor corridor in Killewarren. He had just received a letter and was searching for Caroline. He heard her chiding Horace in the small tea room just as he was passing it. He turned the doorknob and snickered at the site before him: Caroline was on all fours on the rug, evidently trying to teach Horace a new trick.

She had gasped audibly as the door swung open. “Oh,” she breathed in relief, clutching her heart. “It’s you. I feared it was one of the servants!” Her face was still red with embarrassment.

He smiled brightly at her. “I must go to Truro. I have been called to tend on Mrs. Davis and her children and shall likely be gone awhile. Can I bring you anything?”

She considered his offer while Horace whined on her lap demanding some attention. “No, thank you.”

“What, nothing?” He double-checked, astonished she had not requested marzipan as she usually did. He narrowed his eyes at her and she smirked at him, which told him he was not privy to something. What was she up to?

“Nothing,” she confirmed, a cool smile on her face. “You are sweet enough, my dear!” she teased.

Dwight rolled his eyes but smiled in spite of himself. He leaned down to kiss her goodbye and gave Horace a fond pat on his wrinkled head before closing the door behind him and heading for Truro- to tend to his patients and purchase some marzipan in order to coax out whatever secret Caroline was hiding from him.

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11) “No, you don’t get a choice,” Caroline confirmed as she (literally) dragged her husband, kicking and screaming, into the carriage. “You cannot continue to wear such unfashionable clothes, Dwight. You are master of Killewarren, have been for some time, and you must look the part.”

He crossed his arms defensively and sulked in the seat opposite her. The bright morning sun in his eyes added to his irritation. “I am also a practising physician and these unfashionable clothes, as you call them, are practical.”

“I care not. We have an obscene amount of money and what use is it if we never spend a guinea of it?”

“I could think of a million better ways to spend such a sum. Scurvy, for instance, is once again rife in-”

“Oh no, my dear, I beg you, do not bother,” she brushed her hand against his lips, laughing. “Do not try to guilt me into relenting for I have already ordered 20 bags of oranges for your mining people and 15 for your fish wives and their children. Ross informed me of the epidemic 2 days ago.”

Dwight opened his mouth to speak but closed it with a snap. He knew he had lost.

Caroline smiled at his defeated expression and thought to tease him some more. “So,” she began. “Do you know if you are allergic to silk? I hope not!”

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23) “Stop, please!” Caroline screamed as Dwight continued to tickle her sides. Water ran from her eyes as she continued to laugh and writhe, the blanket dropped to the floor.

“No!”

Caroline feared all the air from her lungs would soon be gone. “The servants- they will worry for me- if you do not cease this childishness! Dwight!” Despite trying to seriously scorn him, she could not stop laughing.

“Perhaps. But you forget that I am master here now and so they answer to me,” he said with a mock air of authority.

“Say Dwight, I have been meaning to ask you, do you have a knowledge of Latin?”

Dwight hands paused, taken aback by the randomness of the question. “Erm, yes, some knowledge. Why?”

“Oh, good, then it would not be unkind to put it on your headstone!”

He fell back onto his side of the bed, roaring with laughter. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, chuckling, evidently not in the least bit sorry.

Caroline bunched her legs up before turning to the side and kicking him off the bed in one swift, surprisingly powerful, motion. He landed with a loud thud onto the wooden floor. He peeked over the side of their bed, looking genuinely affronted. Caroline laughed heartily at him. “Now that you’re no longer abed, my love, perhaps you’d care to fetch me some tea before you leave for Sawle?” she asked sweetly.

“I shall return dreckly,” he said, smiling, exiting the room. He returned some time later with her breakfast tray, fully dressed with his tricorn on and his medical bag over his shoulder. “M'lady,” he teased, placing the tray over her covered knees.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “Will you return for supper?”

He hesitated slightly. “Yes, I think so. I shall send word if not. Goodbye, my love.”

“Goodbye,” she replied leaning up to kiss him. Once he broke the kiss she held his shoulders so he could not move. “One more for good luck.”

#answers #carolight #Poldark fanfic