#riding this luck wave until it inevitably crashes right when i need it most

[pan-gya]

for context, ive been trying and failing to get zhongli for the past 3 YEARS

#gyaa rambles #i had enough for one 10 summon and said #eh what the fuck why not #completely sure he would elude me for the 5th time #AND THEN #i also got 2 limited 4 stars today in nier earlier today #and summer charolette and summer caenis earlier this week #in nier i did one 10 summon and used 1 ticket #same with fgo #i am #going insane #HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #riding this luck wave until it inevitably crashes right when i need it most #but uh lol i might start playing genshin again

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

All night long.

CHIBS TELFORD.  ┃ SOA.

❝ request by @filipthescot: Holaaaaa mi amooooor!! If you feel like it, I'd love to read Prompt 4 from the smut list with my man Filip😇💚

❝ request by @ladyreapermc: Number 2 for the smut prompts with my favorite Scot Chibs? Please? 🙏🏻

❝ request by @irenne-stans: Could you do the fluff promt #10 with Chibs please 🥺💗

❝ prompts: “One more cheesy pick up line and I’m gonna bend you over the table and fuck you in front of everyone”. / “I know you think about me at night”. / “It smells like… I don't know… jealousy?”

❝ words: about 1.4k.

❝ warnings: nsfw, smut, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, mention of bodily fluids, explicit thoughts, language, and i think that's all.

Gif credits to the author.

MASTERLIST.

Chibs is burning in rage watching you flirt with the new prospect, sitting on the bar with a glass of whisky in his hand and the other arm over the clingy wood. He's trying to figure out what it's been so fun to make you laugh this way. He's a man of jokes too and he hasn't seen you like that with him. That's pissing him off. And all that he wants to do right now is to put his gun on that guy, where the sun doesn't shine and blow out his guts.

But he has to pretend he wasn't looking at you like a maniac the moment you turn around to walk straight to the bar and grab another beer. Resting your forearms on the edge to wait for your drink, you tilt your head towards him.

“What's that face for? Someone told you Nessie doesn't exist, uh?”

Slowly, too slowly, he moves his eyes from the prospect to you. Annoyed. About to punch anyone that crosses his path right now.

“'Am not having fun like ye, that' fo' sure”. Chibs replies, taking a sip from his drink.

You frown funnily at his words, not really believing what is happening right there. “It smells like… I don’t know… jealousy?”

Waving a hand close to his face, you pretend to be smelling the environment around the two of you, before he slaps it playfully as you finally have erased the sour grimace from his face.

“C'mon, Chibsy. Don't deny what is clear to my eyes”.

“Ye're blind, lass”.

About to challenge him, you take a step closer placing your index finger on his collarbone, dragging it over his shirt down through his torso. You see him gulping inevitably, clicking his tongue with feigned annoyance, putting your eyes away from yours. “I know you think about me at night”.

Chibs purses his lips not enjoying that game you're playing and, that under his opinion, will end up worshipping himself in the darkness of his room while thinking about you —like uncountable times he has done.

“The prospect had the balls to talk with me, but he's a five on my scale”.

“Bad luck fo' him”.

“Good for you, isn't it?” You say poking the tip of his nose graciously, earning again his complete attention. “From one to ten, you're a nine and I'm the one you need”.

The Scottish man chokes on his drink as the liquid falls through the wrong side, making him cough while cleaning his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyebrows are frowned angrily, thinking you're just making fun of him.

“Stop playen'”.

“I'm not playing, but if you want, I know a game. It's called Titanic”.

Rubbing his face with his free hand, Chibs snorts deeply, laying his eyes on you waiting for a continuation or an explanation.

“You can be the ocean and I'll go down on you”.

“One mo' cheesy pickup line and amma bend ye over the table and fuck ye in front of everyone”.

Licking and biting your bottom lip, you grab the glass in his hand to empty it with a gulp to leave it over the bar, an instant before gripping your fingers around his wrist to drag him straight to the dorms. You've been waiting too much time for this to happen. And yes, maybe you were playing at first, tasting the water. But he wasn't lying when he has threatened you. Of course, you two earn more attention than you could expect, when the crew watches you disappearing from the party —between cheers and claps and finallys.

As soon as you're locked inside his room, your lips crash with his. You're too necessitated, so is he; devouring your mouth while your fingers manage to undo his belt and the zip of his jeans. Chibs grunts with his tongue inside your cavity and his huge hands squeezing your ass, anxious to feel that same warm wrapping around all his hard length. And you aren't going to make him wait, having the same burning desire for tasting him.

Pushing him to the nearest wall, reclining his back against it, you roll down his black tight jeans and boxers to his ankles —as promised, you kneel. Chibs can't take off his eyes from yours, looking at you begging in silence to alleviate the bittersweet pain concentrated in his hardness. God, he has dreamt about this thousands of times. Your tongue swirling around his dick, your throat welcoming him, your lips sucking his soul out from his body.

So when you fill your mouth with his thick length until your nose touches his pelvis, Filip can't help but close his eyes uttering a pleased grunt echoing the room. His fingers land automatically on your head, forcing you to hold his reddened glans against your walls, making you gag vibrating his whole anatomy. He could cum just by feeling these same shivers another time.

“For chrissake…” He moans swinging your head back and forth, whilst your left hand massages his balls.

Chibs has never felt this good. He's trying to keep calm and control himself from fucking your mouth as he'd like to do right now. Brutality, fastly, without mercy. He can't wait to see his cream spilling down the curves of your lips, making you choke on his dick.

“God… Ye look so beautiful”. He whispers as good as he can.

His vocals cause you to smile somehow, increasing the pace of your dance wrapping his whole extension with the only intention of driving him crazy. And you're getting it, preventing Chibs from breathing quietly. A mix of gasps and whining comes from the deepest place of his soul, helping you with the rhythm needed for more. He buries his dick down your throat, filling your cavity and forcing your walls until your uvula trembles above his most sensitive skin.

He knows he's so close, ashamed for not lasting more than a couple of minutes. He's a man that can please you all night long, but the wait has wreaked havoc in him. Too much time spent on imagining how it would feel. Too much time spent on imagining himself pawing your body, nailing his ringed fingers into your soaked cunt. Too much time spent on imagining hearing you moan his name, begging him to let you cum while riding his face.

And of course, he's going to fulfill his fantasies tonight, leaving your legs shaking and your pussy flooded by his seed.

Just to think about it, Chibs has to contain his breathing when you abuse your throat one last time, feeling how he empties his heat inside your mouth. Ripping his chest by swallowing a loud delighted grunt, as his hands continue pressing your head deeper, you cough slightly until he loosens his grip. Filip doesn't give you time to recover, urging you to stand up, colliding your mouth to taste himself in your saliva. The best combination he has ever savored.

With a tight hand gripping your throat he makes you turn around, pinning you to the wall, using the other to eagerly roll up the gems of your dress and push down your wet panties enough to slam to curved fingers inside you. You cry out with his lips stuck in yours, pounding you with so much savageness that he needs to husk you, or the whole Charming will hear you.

“Ye… Bad girl… Playen' with the prospect ti make me feel jealous…” He groans huskily, not being able to think about it as his thrusts cloud your head. “Gonna make ye understand why whiskey is better than bourbon”.

“Please, Ch— Chibs… I fucking beg you”.

You want him to fuck you, that's evident. You want him to fuck you in every single possible position, in every single corner of this damn town. And he's going to do it —but…

“Say ye're sorre”. He hisses onto your ear, nailing his fingers as much deep as he can, forcing your limits and pushing them to beyond. “Say ye're sorre fo' making me wait, fo' playen with me”.

“I am… I a— am sorry”. You sob placing your hands on his shoulders looking for some balance, as he raises you on your tiptoes. “I am so sorry, Chibsy… Please… Please, fuck me”.

“'Corse I will, my love. Till ye beg me again, but ti stop”.

If you've liked it, lemme know in a comment, I’d really appreciate it. Reblogs are welcome too, so more people can enjoy it! ✨

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak

SOA: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @encounterthepast @aphroditeandheraweremarried @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @meteora-fc @arveeee @joupym @missswritings @hanster1998 @cubblycie @arana-alpha @kid-from-new-zealand @lucillewinchester @pedritomando @mariska0610

#filip chibs telford x reader #chibs telford imagine #filip chibs telford #chibs telford #chibs smut #chibs telford x reader #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy

[skzsauce01]

Normal Pt 2

Description: For more skilled maneuvers, dragon shifters need a rider to help them out. After rejecting multiple riders, Hyunjin, a traumatized and handicapped shifter, is assigned to you. To add a cherry on top, you’re deaf, so how are you supposed to cast spells to free him from his limitation, let alone the anger in his heart?

Warning: some violence

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: fem!reader x dragon!Hyunjin

Pt: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5

The first assignment you have with Hyunjin comes earlier than expected, but there is no choice but to be standing at the edge of the school on a cold Saturday morning with no experience riding Hyunjin whatsoever.

The task is simple: kill at least twenty goblins within the hour to pass. Additional kills and heads of flying goblins are extra points. 

As Hyunjin is waiting for the professor to finish taking attendance, he hears a familiar voice call out his name.

“Hyunjin!”

“Hi Hye Ji.” 

“Are you feeling better from the fall?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”

“That’s a relief,” she smiles.

Hyunjin notices the beverage in her hand. “You like strawberry yakult?”

“This isn’t for me,” she replies with a shake of her head. “One of the proctors asked me to deliver this. Do you know where Miss L/N is?”

“Y/N? She’s getting the kill-counter from the professor.”

As if on cue, you emerge from behind Hyunjin and hand Hyunjin a metal necklace. You look at Hye Ji questioningly. 

“Hi! This is for you.” She takes your hand and places the milk in it. “See you later! Good luck you guys!”

‘Thank you!’ you sign after her.

Once she’s gone, you look down at your favourite beverage and smile at the note it came with.

‘Fighting! -B.C.’

Hyunjin crosses his arms and laughs curtly at the cheesiness of it all. “We’re going to start soon,” he says while walking past you and towards the wilderness.

You aren’t sure why Hyunjin is staying human ten minutes into the assignment, but it doesn’t stop you from staring at him hopefully.

“Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles for the nth time. 

When you point to his back, he rolls his eyes and takes your notepad from you.

‘I already found out about your little secret, so just stop it already.’

You look at him with a sly smile of disbelief. 

‘You sing and manipulate your spells with different vibrations instead of words,’ he writes with a triumphant smirk.

The way your usual cheerful demeanor falters at his words almost makes him feel bad. Almost. Instead, he writes, ‘Just give up and stay off my back.’

You take the pad back. ‘How did you find out?’

It’s Hyunjin’s turn to be flustered; he did not foresee this question. ‘Changbin told me.’

Your grin tells him that he messed up his answer and that you realize that he’s lying. Do you really trust the older dragon that much? He looks at the note that came with your drink earlier that you’ve stuck to the back of the pad. Or did you trust Chan?

You gesture for him to keep the paper when he tries to hand it back and indicate for him to write another answer. Hyunjin feels his cheeks tingle with heat uncomfortably, so he finally turns dragon and walks ahead of you with his long strides… 

… right into a goblin nest.

He had wondered why you clocked him in the head with a pebble moments before he heard the threatening screeches of the vile creatures, but now he is wondering why you followed him here, panting and bent over your knees, if you knew what he-- and now you as well-- has gotten into.

Anyone else taking this assessment would be delighted to find this many targets in one place, but not him. Goblins, although weak, are crafty, especially in large numbers. The worst of them are mother goblins, protective and merciless. Hyunjin doesn’t need to take a look around to know that they are what makes up most of the muscle force in a nest. Thankfully, they all seem to be ground goblins, meaning he can still fly up and incinerate everything on the ground before he inevitably crashes into something.

But then, there’s you. Despite his apathy towards your kind, he isn’t cruel enough to kill you. At the same time, both you and him are not getting out of this unscathed if you stay any longer, Twilight Terror or otherwise.

In his indecision, Hyunjin barely notices you signing something towards him. He recognizes the alphabet and thus the two letters you are repeating to him.

‘G-O.’

He watches your small smile-- a familiar smile, he thinks-- as your necklace gleams white and his wings unfurl. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a goblin arching her morning glory backwards with her gaze trained on you.

Hyunjin lets out a distressed roar as he feels himself lifting off the ground as you grow smaller and smaller in his field of vision. Thankfully, you dodge the first blow from the goblin, but how much more can you take, especially with the other ones quickly approaching? 

Without thinking, Hyunjin swings his tail downwards and sweeps you off of your feet and onto his back. He shoots several breaths of fire onto the meddling vermins down below as you take him out of the area. His ears perk up at the sound of your voice. It’s smooth and even just like his current flight. It’s a beautiful sound, he decides as he gets lost in it, ignoring the nineteen beeps that sound from his kill-count necklace.

He flies off the edge of the forest and over the neighboring sea where the morning sun reflects orange and gold off the waters. Once out of harm’s way, you let out a peal of giggles at your and his success. Hyunjin can’t help but grin too. Part of him wonders how you are able to stay so on pitch while laughing.

Laughing.

The sounds of six years ago come flooding back into his head. Laughing. He was laughing too with his rider until he heard his turning more sinister.

“Lee?” a feminine voice calls out. 

Hyunjin can’t remember who said that. He only recalls trying to move, but his muscles not listening, not when they had sworn their existence and loyalty to his rider. The weight that he had come to adore on his back became heavy and suffocating. The same weight he feels on him now.

You feel your powers losing control over the dragon, starting with the unfamiliar tail. Hyunjin veers hard towards the left due to the imbalance and crashes into the side of the cliff. Something snags Hyunjin’s purple pendant off and it falls into the ocean with a splash. Without it in his proximity, Hyunjin returns to human form as the two of you free fall after the stone.

Hyunjin grabs onto a sturdy branch along the fall, but you aren’t so lucky. 

“Y/N?” he calls out. “Y/N!” 

Thankfully, you quickly resurface onto a rock and wave to him with a bright smile in your annoying wet-but-still-pristine uniform. 

He involuntarily lets out a sigh of relief and begins lowering himself down to meet you. When he turns around again, he sees you falling comedically backwards into the waves.

“What do you think you’re--!”

You begin swimming, and it doesn’t take a fool to know towards what. Just beneath the surface floats a gem that glows a purple hue. Luckily, it doesn’t look like you’ll have to dive deep for it. 

Wait.

Stones don’t float.

It’s a sea goblin! Hyunjin watches in horror as the vermin notices you and pulls you under the waves for a tussle. You unsheath the dagger at your thigh but miss its head as you thrust forward your weapon. The goblin slams you against a sharp rock, dying the surrounding water red as a sharp pain blossoms from your shoulder. It again hurls you at another rock, this time making sure your head meets it first and knocks you out.

Hyunjin is already swimming by the time your body sinks to the ocean floor. The goblin is racing him towards you to finish the job. No, not to finish the job; it’s racing to take his necklace! Hyunjin notices a familiar glint attached to a chain wrapped around your dagger. You hadn’t missed your thrust earlier; you just had a different goal that what everyone imagined. 

By some luck, Hyunjin reaches you first and ignores the sharp nails being dragged across his abdomen as he holds you and your knife against him and takes you to the surface to transform.

The goblin doesn’t stand a chance. It quickly swims deep into the ocean upon seeing the dragon, but a little water is no trouble for a Terror. Hyunjin sends a deafening roar after it and follows with a flame so hot, water evaporates immediately in its proximity.

A soft chirp sounds from his remaining necklace. Beep! Twenty. 

“Y/N!” he squeaks at your unconscious form.

The only visible injury is the one on your arm, dying your white coat the same color as its underside, but Hyunjin knows how dangerous head injuries are. He puts his ear to your chest; at least you are still breathing. 

If he were Hye Ji or any other dragon, he would hold you between his mouth and fly back to school, but with his tail, he will be risking giving you another concussion if he attempts that. He could make the journey alone since he is used to the falling, but that would mean leaving you alone. He slams the useless appendage against the sea despite knowing that you’d object to it if you were awake.

Then wake up and scold me! he screams internally.

To make matters worse, the water Hyunjin evaporated is already raining down on him. He shelters you away under his wings and roars repeatedly in distress.

After a solid minute, he hears a reply from an upperclassman proctor. “Is that Hyunjin?”

He lets out another roar, his feet shifting anxiously. “Yes! Yes! Over here!” Soon enough, Hyunjin can make out the familiar shape of his roommate and his rider. 

Of course it's Chan.

“Where’s L/N?” Chan gasps as soon as Changbin puts him down.

Hyunjin lifts his wing up for the other male to see. As soon as he spots your form, Chan pushes past the dragon and scoops you up into his arms.

“A concussion,” Chan announces. He looks at Hyunjin. “In the case of a medical emergency, I have the right to make you terminate your assignment before the allotted time you have for your task. Return your tracker now and aboard my dragon.”

Hyunjin transforms and tosses the metal necklace to him with a dark lookl. “I finished already anyway.”

He ignores the stunned look on Changbin’s snout as he climbs on the reptile. Although offensive, he can’t blame his friend for his surprise; Hyunjin hasn’t completed a single assignment with a rider since he enrolled, but for some reason though, he isn’t proud of his new achievement. As the trio flies to campus, a heavy feeling weighs in his chest where his necklace used to hang.

The wind in his face that he used to enjoy so much now makes him sick. Your limp body in his arms only reminds him that he’s never going to truly be able to fly again. He has to admit that you are the most versatile rider he has ever seen, so if you aren’t able to control a tail like his, then maybe it is time to finally face the truth. It’s finally time to call it quits.

Your resilience both mentally and physically is admirable, Hyunjin notes when he sees you out of the infirmary and walking about in less than a week. The next thought he has is to hide so you can’t see him. However, what you want to find, you will find.

‘You didn’t visit me once in the clinic,’ you pout accusingly.

‘Why would I visit you?’

He expects you to pull another ‘Because you’re my dragon!’ nonsense, but instead, you take his hand and put something cold in it. He looks down to see his necklace that he never took back from your dagger.

To your shock, he hands it back to you. “I don’t need this anymore.”

‘What?’

‘I don’t need this anymore. Keep it. Sell it. I don’t care.’ There’s a reason why he’s gone a week without retrieving it from you in the first place.

With a tight frown, you stand firmly with your feet apart and press the notepad against his chest, demanding an explanation.

‘I’m quitting. I’m not going to be a dragon anymore. I can’t graduate anyway by the way I’m going. I just wanted’ he crosses out the last three words and hands the pad back to you. I just wanted to tell you first before leaving. Maybe that’s why he has been avoiding you.

You’re oddly unfazed by his decision. You simply write, ‘Why?’

He looks at your shoulder. The one blemish you have on your uniform resides there. The stitching is so fine, you can hardly tell it’s there, but the faint brown of dried blood is more obvious. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you.’

‘Just because I got a little hurt--’ you begin to write.

‘It’s not that,’ he interjects with a scowl.

‘Then what?’

Hyunjin huffs in annoyance. He knows you won’t give up until he tells you, so he writes, ‘Fine, you want to know why? It’s because I can’t fly. Not by myself, and not even with a rider as skilled as you. What is a Twilight Terror that can’t fly? Even a hatchling can do that!’

Your frown deepens. ‘Sure you can. We were doing fine after the nest.’

‘And then I dropped us.’

‘That was my fault! I’m not used to your tail, but we can get it with more training.’

The memories that returned that day flash back into Hyunjin’s mind. ‘It wasn’t you. I just can’t be helped.’

‘I’ve never once met a dragon who could not be helped,’ you pen stubbornly.

Hyunjin eyes your pure white pendant with suspicion but doesn’t dwell on the thought. ‘Well congratulations, you’ve met your first. Shouldn’t you be happy anyway? You’ll be assigned to a regular, functioning dragon after I’m gone and can graduate this academy without any problems.’

You scoff silently after reading his message and point to your ear. ‘Do you think I want a regular dragon?’

He bites his lip.

‘Hwang Hyunjin. Stay at Sheng at least until the New Year’s Race and I’ll be out of your scales for good. If you don’t, I’ll quit too and follow you until you come back.’

You’ve been stern with him before-- it was a tactic that you tried in order to get him to listen to you in training-- but never like this. If he were to be honest, it frightens him a little.

He pushes your notepad away begrudgingly and you know you have won. He can put up with this for three more months, he decides. Or, better yet, he can make you quit before then, and Changbin cannot say anything about it this time; he had already given you a chance to save yourself.

‘And Hyunjin? I’d be very sad if you left :(‘

He hates the way you curl the letters of his name so cutely. 

It’s much easier to get Hyunjin to allow you on his back now either because you were already there before or because he’s given up on controlling his dragon form altogether. Still, he only agrees to it when the two of you are alone and out of sight from the other dragons. You get yourself and him excused from regular class-time training with the other dragons and instead move your practice time to after dusk when you and him can be alone.

With the extra hours in the day, Hyunjin begins studying fields he hopes to go into after he rescinds from Sheng Academy. Sometimes, when he walks to the canteen for a quick nibble, he finds you in a vacant classroom with a tail made of old dragon scales that’s shaped to represent his own.

Not having a fin at all and constricting one of Changbin’s is similar, yet very different. Hyunjin doesn’t understand why you are trying so hard for this when he can’t fly with his past haunting him even if you did figure out the kinetics. It’s pathetically futile and not at all heartwarming, Hyunjin tells himself.

Today is one of those days where he’s out for a snack. He spots you through the regular window, although today you aren’t alone.

What’s Chan doing here? He quickly skidaddles to a hiding spot.

The male has his hand just above his sternum like you usually do. Around the pseudo tail swirls blue magic rather than white. 

Why are you teaching him how to spellcast like you, Y/N? Hyunjin curses. You’re supposed to be helping me fly again!

The tail suddenly jerks itself across the room, and Chan gives you a lopsided guilty grin. You wave it off and place your hand on his chest and motion for him to try again. Hyunjin swears he’s flexing the muscles in the area as you do so.

‘Good,’ you sign when he gets the tail to flick as intended. You try to step back, but Chan pulls on your wrist to get you to keep monitoring him. However, he pulls a little too hard, and you crash into his arms.

Chan’s Adam's apple bob up and down at your close proximity. Your lips part as a gasp escapes. The male’s eyes shift down to them and he lifts your head closer, his eyes threatening to flutter shut.

Transforming into a dragon in the hallways is strictly forbidden, but Hyunjin figures he has enough time before getting caught to set Chan’s pants on fire. 

‘Our dueling assignment is in two days,’ you remind him.

Hyunjin isn’t paying attention; he’s too busy grinning at the little burn mark on the tail of your coat. He seems to be ruining your pristine clothes little by little.

You motion for him to lower his head for you to climb on, and to your surprise, he cooperates without a word today. 

Did something good happen? you wonder, stroking him a few times.

The two of you have been making pretty good progress. Like with Changbin, you can get through the easy course in an acceptable amount of time, but it isn’t enough. With the assignment coming up, you want to push him a little further. 

His chest rumbles as he lets out a noise of concern when he feels your increase of energy and sees you leading him towards intermediate course. You ignore him and push on. 

Over the first beam, dodge the log projectiles, slant thirty degrees counterclockwise through the triangular hoop, and fly vertically up the twenty story wall. 

You get through a few more obstacles with only a few hiccups, but none great enough to stop you on your track.

Clear your head, Hyunjin tells himself. Don’t mess this up. Just focus on the course!

Finally, you make it to the last challenge: a rotating hollowed out rectangular prism. The slit cut into it is barely enough to fit the Terror’s wingspan. A dragon would have to rotate perfectly in sync with it for thirty meters to fly through. 

You pat him twice as encouragement and lean forward to brace yourself.

Breath…

Hyunjin enters the tube with his eyes trained on the exit, leaving the rotation up to you. The spin is against the natural direction of the way Hyunjin’s tail tilts, so you amp up your magic to a level according to your best judgement, hoping the leeway space is enough for any fine tuning. 

Thirty meters. Twenty. Fifteen. Ten… Seven… Five, three, two, one!

You pump your fists into the air when Hyunjin’s tail clears the last of the intermediate course, and the male jerks up his head to let out a celebratory roar. The motions combined with you forgetting to turn back down your powers tosses you off his back, and the two of you tumble onto the sand below, laughing and cheering.

“Oh my claws, I can’t believe we did it!” Hyunjin laughs carelessly, unaware that he’s transformed and rolled on top of you with his body held up by his forearms. 

Maybe not all riders are so awful. Maybe.

His smile warms your heart; it’s a sight you don’t see often, but one you can get used to. Has his cheeks always been so fluffy? You reach up to cup them to see if they are an illusion.

Hyunjin blinks in surprise at your touch. It is only then that he realizes how close you are and his brain malfunctions. 

‘Pretty,’ you form the word soundlessly with your lips. 

It was a mistake for him to look down at your lips, he realizes with a huge blush. He quickly pushes himself off of you and scratches into the sand, ‘Sorry.’

You shake your head and begin brushing off your clothes, hoping that the stains won’t be too obvious. That’s two marks on your uniform that he has attached fond memories to, Hyunjin realizes. He wonders how many more he can get on you.

~ ad.gold

#hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #stray kids #skz #dragons #stray kids fantasy #stray kids senarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #dragon!hyunjin #stray kids chapter #deaf reader #stray kids fic #hyunjin fic #20200714

[bigcat-hanson]

Down In Flames [Part Two] | Arin Hanson X Reader

After your apartment complex burned down, you had nowhere to go, but you would never put that burden onto anyone, especially not your friends. How long can you hide it?

Word count: 1,313

     “Hey, (Y/N), you up for lunch?”

     The voice behind you snapped you out of your thoughts, causing you to jump a bit out of your seat. You turned around to see who had posed the question to you, only to be greeted by Arin’s concerned expression.

     “You ok?”

     “Uh, yea, sorry. I, um, I was just zoning out a bit,” you lied, desperately hoping he wouldn’t suspect anything further than that. 

     “Sounds about right. So, do you wanna go to lunch? Jory and I were thinking of grabbing some sushi.” Thank god, he didn’t seem to notice. It took just about every ounce of energy you had to contain the newfound urge to cry until you passed out.

     “Sure, yea. Let me just, um, let me just grab my stuff real quick, just a sec,” you stuttered out, quickly shutting off your computer screen and fishing your wallet and car keys out of the drawer of your desk before following Arin out to the parking lot, where Jory had been waiting for the both of you in his car. You were willing to take any distraction that came your way, and getting lunch seemed like a pretty good one.

     Then Jory drove past the apartments.

     He slowed a bit as you went by, but somehow everything seemed to go much slower than they already were. Every detail of the scene hit you like a truck. The swarms of aid cars, news vans, fire trucks, and police cars surrounding the building, or at least what was left of it. Even though the flames were out, smoke still poured out from the charred remains of what you once called your home. There was no going back there. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure.

     “Holy Jesus fuck, what happened there?” Arin exclaimed, leaning towards the scene as you passed. 

     “It’s all over the news, man. They think someone burned it down on purpose. I think like, 6 or 7 people were killed, too. It’s messed up,” Jory replied. The lump in your throat felt like it grew bigger and bigger the more you were faced with your inevitable future. 

     “God, that sucks ass. Hopefully the rest of them’ll be able to find places to stay.” Arin’s comment just about broke you. Had you not been sitting in the back seat, they both would’ve caught the few tears that managed to escape your eyes. You wiped them away as quickly as possible in a desperate attempt to mask your emotions.

     The sushi place that Jory chose was almost packed, with one table clearly open. As the boys decided amongst themselves whether they wanted to sit down or take out, you tried to focus your attention on the menu. As you scanned over every item listed, you realized that none of it sounded appealing. You were almost nauseated by the thought of eating just about anything right now. 

     The more you stared at the board, the less sounds you registered around you. Everything became muffled, as if you were staring at the rest of the world from the inside of a glass jar. You saw flames in the chalk writing, smelled the smoke as if you were standing right in the middle of it. The sound of the sirens rang through your ears and-

     Jory clapped his hand on your shoulder, shaking you a bit. For a split second, you had completely forgotten where you were.

“Are you ok? You look really distracted.”

     “Uh, yea. Yea, I’m fine. I just remembered the last time I had sushi wasn’t exactly a fun experience.”

     “Oh, crap. I remember that. This probably wasn’t the best idea for lunch then.”

     “No, you’re fine. I’ll just, um, I’ll just get something else later. No big deal.”

     “Alright. We’ll stop wherever on the way out of here so you can grab something that doesn’t make you sick.” Was that even possible?

~~~~~~

     Time seemed to have no meaning anymore. It had somehow been both the shortest and longest four days of your life. Everything blended together in a haze of exhaustion, anxiety, and the back pain that came from sleeping in your car. Nobody knew that at this point, you were technically homeless, and you weren’t about to let it slip to any of them. Finding a new place to live was hard enough without people constantly interrupting your work to ask questions.

     The soft light of your computer screen reflected off of your dull eyes as you fought to keep awake long enough to finish editing the last sixty seconds of the video you were working on. Your arms and eyelids felt heavier and heavier as the seconds ticked by. The most excruciating minute of your life was finally over after what felt like half an hour. 

     “Ready to head out?” Arin stood next to your desk, jacket slung over his shoulder. Fuck. The promise you had made him earlier that morning completely slipped your mind. His car battery had died before he came into work, and when Vernon said that he could only bring him to work and not take him home at the end of the day, you blindly offered to help. Pre-coffee decisions weren’t exactly your strong suit.

     “Yea, uh… let me just save this, then we can head out.” The closer you got to your car, you realized just how compromising the inside probably looked. Given it was after dark, you were banking on him not being able to see the makeshift bed in your back seat.

     “Thanks for driving me, by the way. First thing tomorrow, I’m getting a new battery,” Arin stated. You looked at him and gave him a half smile before walking around to the driver’s side door, mentally crossing your fingers.

     “Okay, where to?” You clicked your seatbelt and started the engine as Arin rattled off his address. Thankfully, you had a pretty good idea of where he lived. You didn’t want to use up any more of your phone’s battery power than you needed to. 

     The ride was filled with conversation, mostly about the most ridiculous food combinations that both of you had ever heard of. It was nice to get completely lost in a conversation with someone, even if the topic was a little ridiculous. 

     “And here we are,” Arin announced as you pulled into his driveway. Your foot pressed down on the brakes, and the car was put in park to let him get out and say his goodbyes for the night. “I’ll probably be in late tomorrow because of the whole battery thing, so let Tucker know I’m sorry if I delay any recordings or anything.”

     “Will do. Good luck with that. Anyways, um, goodnight, Arin.”

     “See you tomorrow, (Y/N). Get home safe, ok?” With those words, he smiled, shut the car door, and disappeared into his house.

     Maybe it was the thought of having to sleep in your cold car another night, or the fact that he said ‘home’, as if you had one anymore, but the wall that you forced yourself to build finally came crashing down. The second he was out of sight, all of your emotions hit you at once, and you started crying. Waves of tears poured down your face and into your hands and lap. Sobs  overcame you. You couldn’t breathe. Every bad feeling that you were trying to avoid was suddenly engulfing you in misery. You couldn’t drive like this. All you could do now was take a few minutes to let it out, and hope that you would calm down enough to drive away soon.

     It took several minutes of attempting about a thousand different breathing techniques before you could even remotely see anything clearly. Shaky hands reached up and wiped the tears out of your eyes, and you attempted to get your bearings. There was a knock at your window.

     Shit. 

#arin hanson #arin hanson x reader #game grumps #down in flames #this is angst right?

[unikornu]

Page 4, Dethrone

(re-written)

- Hey folks! Its Reeeed Eye! Looks like we have another fool to get himself killed. Oh, we gonna watch you with pleasure while the gauntlet will gut you out of here.

-Oh dear fucking God. They even have a commentator? What kind of raiders are they? She rolled her eyes and carefully stepped down the stairs leading into the gauntlet itself. Busy room welcomed her, filled with trash, bodies, broken furniture, dried blood splattered all over and the stench of struggle and death that was hanging in the air like a radiation cloud.

- That doesn’t look...safe. A-ha. She spotted a green lights blinking in the shadows and turning around, scanning the area for any movement. - No surprise they put so much lights in here. She grabbed some rubble from the floor and threw it into the reflectors standing in the middle of the long hallway, giving her a bit more shadows to hide in from turrets. First few rolls towards the tables and counters were successful but as closer she was getting to the door the more lights of the turrets were blinking, leaving her no choice but to run at the last few meters. Luckily she was fast and trained for extreme situations so she managed to outrun the fire and bullets, crashing the floor tiles upon the impact right after her feet. She took a very sharp turn behind the wall to catch a breath before going any further.

-That was fucking close. She leaned her hands on the knees, catching the breath before approaching the next challenge ignoring the Red Eye in the speakers trying to rush her as it was no option this time anyway and calmex running through her veins was keeping her focused well enough.

The next room looked surprisingly..clean but it showed its tricks one Lucy heard blipping next to her, kicking the landmine away and covering her face from the dust upon exploding. She was surprised that nothing from the shabby structure collapsed as raiders were the best engineers of the commonwealth.

- Fuck..that’s gonna take a while. She went, slowly, step by step, keeping her head on the floor and eyes rolling all around in a nervous manner until reaching a locked door. -Alright, let’s see. She pulled a bobby pin from her hair and started digging in, taking her sweet time as she was short on them. The click occurred, filling her with satisfaction, being able to move forward.

Sadly the place seemed like it had no end. Bloody labyrinth trying to kill you at every inch with everything that wasteland had to offer, bullets, radiation, beasts, hidden traps, even a gas that almost made her wish to collapse on a spot, leaving the rupturing pain inside her lungs as she slid down at the wall catching the breaths of fresh air that was coming from behind hopefully last door, beams of lights shining through its cracks, almost welcoming her. Her pre-war jobs for gang were nothing in comparison to this. This was straight brutal, every challenge coming straight at you and not giving up any moment. She was trained more in short and swift actions almost like a cheetah of crime, not a long runs like this. The only thing keeping her still alive was curiosity, adrenaline and calmex. And that endless voice in her head when she was drugged, to finish what needs to be done without asking questions.

----

She pulled herself up after a short pause, gathering the last of her strengths for last push, hoping to find some answers to this bullshit she willingly stepped. She kicked opened the last door, daylight blinding her from the up, crate ceiling hanging right up to her, colorful figures cheering and howling at her in a vicious manner. The bullet cracking the wooden frame next to her shoulder reminded her that there is no time to stand still and she pushed herself through the messy hallways, running as fast as she still could but as she was about to reach the end the bullet flew through her arm, the sharp pain filled her guts as she fell to the floor, hearing the men above walk away, mumbling in surprise and excitement about last duel.

- Fuckin hell. This better be worth it, you stupid bitch. She pulled a stimpak and injected it, hoping to ease the pain long enough to carry her through the last fight or whatever was coming to her, catching the sounds coming from within the arena, deep into the building. As she walked forward, holding herself onto the railing, tired and pissed off. The last challenged welcomed her in a shape of a massive power armor figure standing in what it looked like a pre-war cola cars hall, lighted with pink and blue lights, almost unnerving to the eyes.

- That’s it? That scrawny little bitch beat the gauntlet? Haha, i’m Colter by the way and i can’t wait to bend over your tiny, sweet little body and hear it crack in my hands. Colter - the leader of this whole mess, or at least he looked like one, standing down, with the other raider, tinkering around his armor and blinking towards her or at least that’s what she saw.  

- Fantastic....i guess that’s where my shit trip will end. There was no way back for her anyway, only forward down the stairs to the cloakroom. She would barely be able to take another room...but a man in a fully functioned power armor, in her shape...seemed impossible. She sat on a bench, leaning her head over the arms, resting on her knees, awaiting the inevitable.

----

Suddenly the crack of the interphone hanged nearby disturbed the silence in the room.

- Hey, come here for a sec. I gotta tell ya something and i ain’t having much time for that. The same voice from the train called her over. She looked at it from under her arms, tired but approached it eventually.

- Who are you really, and why do you wanna talk now? I’m gonna die soon anyway. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, facing the interphone.

- I might be just what ya need in this case now. Look...i saw you, going room after room. You ain’t soldier, nor raider, you don’t look like anything i saw yet in this shithole.

- And your point is? She asked, impatiently.

- I will get to the point. If you take my advice you might not die and get something nice in exchange for roughing you up like that. If not, that’s your fucking problem but it would be a shame to lose someone with your skill assets...if ya ask me.  

- Fine, tell me, but be short about it. She wasn’t in a mood for much talking as pain and exhaustion started slowly getting to her again.

- Alright, look. There is a special gun i hid in the locker. Colter is a cheating son of a bitch, you won’t win this without that gun. She looked over the lockers and her gaze stopped at the red, shiny squirt gun.

- What? Water gun? Are you fucking joking?! The irritation filled her voice along with few more swears as she picked it up and came back to the interphone.

- Hey, hey i know it sounds crazy but just fucking take my advice if you want to keep your ass afloat in this crap. It ain’t my life that’s on stake so do what ya think its best.

- Wait, one more question. Why do you help me? I mean..its your boss. She gave a few squirts with a pistol just be also negatively surprised by its...short range.

- Some people are just ain’t the kind for the job after all. Well enough, you get through, we gonna talk more. I hope to see ya on the other side, the one across the arena. Good luck.

As the interphone went silent Lucy was shuffling her thoughts, not sure as to believe in raider words but could there be any better way to die rather than squirting some water into a fully armored big mouthed raider. And that’s what she intended to do. She scoured the area before heading to the entrance, snatching a psycho on a way and spotting a generator hidden behind the crashed wall opening.

- I don’t think he needs any more power in this place. Opss. She pulled a core and tossed it to the side like a piece of junk. Arena got filled with raider audience, but looking differently...more proper and scarier than the commonwealth saps. Some of them had polished metallic pieces, sharp yet elegant looking and some were dressed much more colorful than the flora of the wasteland. The last group looked most disturbing, fully covered faces, only seeing the sharp expressions of their lips and determination vibrating from them to gut her at any second.

- Since it might be last push, might give myself a good ride. She used the psycho along with the last calmex dose that send her mind into interesting state of focus and calmness and pumping adrenaline like a bull at the same time. Her heart beating like its about to rupt her chest.

The door opened, Colter didn’t waste any time greeting her with bullet rain but she was neither letting him have an easy fight, taking a cover behind one of the cars, sending a few grenades landing at his feet. He didn’t even care to dodge and that’s what rubbed her the wrong way. He was truly cheating, the impact of the explosion reflected by the strange electric wave shining from his armor.

- Maybe he’s not actually bluffing. She looked from behind the car, spotting Gage observing a fight with a nerve in his eye, almost hoping for something. - Alright, Feit...use your charm. She said to herself and stepped from behind the cover as Colter stopped the fire.

- Hey, i know i have no chance, so how about you gonna give me that good bend over you said and finish me like a man? She teased him, grinning at him. Colter tossed his rifle aside, looking proud and slowly taking steps forward.

- Crash you with my bare hands? That’s your deathwish sweetheart? He grinned back, looking down at her, taking a swing but she dodged it, pulling a gun from behind her and squirting all over his face and body as he kept on trying to catch her.

-Fuck. Lucy swore as he managed to snatch her by the neck tightening the grip but suddenly the electric shortage occurred. Colter paused, confused to what is happening and tossing her aside.

- Gage! What the fuck is going on? Answer me now! Colter turned towards him, spotting his smirk from under the patch ignoring Lucy slowly standing up and pulling last of grenades. - Its you...isn’t it! I’m gonna fucking tear you apart Porter! He stomped and bashed at the door, yelling but the explosion occurring next to him made him turn his focus back to Lucy. Some parts of his armor flew away which only encouraged her to throw whatever she had left, backing away step by step, keeping herself up with lasts of strength.

- Just fucking end him! Gage yelled from behind the glass.

- I don’t know what the hell is going on but you can fuck off, Colter. I ain’t going down yet in this case. Her arm wouldn’t allow it but drugs did, pulling the cannon out and shooting whatever was packed in its barrel into the rest of remaining Colter’s armor, sending the man flying back and her to the floor in the process as she could no longer stand.

As the smoke dropped down the silence occurred. Raiders looked at her and then at Gage and finally at Colter body, lying beneath junks of metal and blood.

- Gage what the fuck just happened there? The Red Eye voice asked , from the speakers.

- What happened? We just got a new Overboss. What else its looking like? Gage yelled to the audience.

- Her? Are you sure Porter? The massive raider with a red hair stood up in disbelief as the rest started leaving the room, mumbling in concern and mistrust.

- I’m sure Mason. You saw what she did. She has skill and ain’t that stupid. Just give her time and get the fuck out. Gage verbally kicked the rest of the audience and entered the arena as room got empty.

-----

- Hey, you okay? He approached her, laying on the ground, breathing heavily but slowly pushing herself up on her arms just to be stopped by a sharp pain from the bullet that didn’t have time to fully heal.

- What kind of question is that? Shit...it hurts. She pulled herself up and leaned on the car, turning her gaze up onto the raider. - So..what the fuck is going on here?

- Right..let me explain now, that there is no crowd shouting over my fucking back. He spotted the wound and jabbed her with a stimpak in the arm.

- Ouch...ey! What makes you think i trust you that much yet? She brushed her arm and awaited the answers.

- I get ya but you ain’t gotta choice for now so you will have to stick with me for a while if you want it or not.

- And what makes you think i want to stick around? She squinted her eye at his and crossed her arms, still leaning onto the car.

- Well..you came here because you wanted to, so there must be something that pulled you to us. And second...fucking congratulations, you passed the challenge and...well you’re the boss now, as the vacancy.. just got...well, freed. He looked over Colter’s dead body slowly releasing its stench of half burned skin and guts into the air.

-Wait...what? Me? Boss? You must be kidding me again. She chuckled in disbelief at him.

- I wasn’t kidding with a squirt gun, why would i be joking now, hm? Gage offered her a hand to lean on. - Let me show, you gonna see its gonna be worth it.

She looked at his hand with hesitation but the pain and tiredness was getting enough to her, wanting to finally sit down somewhere and rest in comfort so she accepted the help, letting herself be supported by his strong, big arm as they slowly walked towards the exit.

- Let’s get ya ass to Fizztop. By the way. Where did you learn all that? You don’t look like a type...for..ya know, combat and so on. He spotted a soft smile appearing in the corner of her lips.

- That is a huge advantage, even back then....to not look like someone who might just cut the shit out of you. Let’s say for now..i had quite a bit of training, working for some gang...might tell you more if you are actually worth trusting and you not gonna gut me at the end of that hallway. After a while she could feel the stress going down, being able to finally stand on her own, still weak but enough to reach the Fizztop.    

- I don’t have a reason to gut you yet...well. Let’s hope there won’t be any need for that. He chuckled and scanned her over as he could finally have a good clear look at her posture. - Ain’t you a surprising little package, shit. And funny how you might be just what we need right now.

She looked up at him. His face wearing many fights, not all successful, a big metallic patch covering his eye and whatever was beneath it. Experience and confidence striking in his voice as the posture as well. She felt small..and scrawny indeed standing next to such a massive raider, his bulky armor only adding to it but she had a strange feeling that following him might be just the answer she was looking for a long time.

- Feeling might prove mutual in time, Gage. They looked at each other, eye to eye for a few seconds before heading to Fizztop.      

#fallout 4 #fo4 #nuka world #lucy feit #lucy's diary #porter gage #colter #re-written

[tea-and-toblerones]

Unison  Chapter 13 - Better Love

Better Love- Steel Train

Hey, remember once upon a time when I used to write fan fics? Well, I finally finished the chapter. 

Here’s Chapter 11 and Chapter 12 for a refresher and if your brand spankin new, or just want to reread the whole damn thing, here’s the master list. 

Enjoy guys...sorry it took a forever and a year...

You would think sleep would overtake me quick and easy, with everything that had gone down. Yet here I laid, now wide awake, my mind racing. The fallout of tonight's events playing like a skipping disc, just bursts of memories. Drinking and laughing, dancing on the floor. The guys hands on my waist...wandering down...wandering down. I flung the heavy comforter off me, a small part of me wondering if it was the reason I was covered in sweat. Ed had grumbled a little as I eased out of bed. His face buried deeper in his pillow. His pillow. The thought had pulled me to a stop. My hand hovering over my doorknob, trying to think back to when I started lumping our stuff together. When I had started splitting stuff up into my stuff and his stuff. Which, seems innocent enough, but in this moment it seemed like a huge deal. 

I shook my head. I'm making too much out of it. I pushed the door open, the little whiny creak caused him to flop over. I used to hate that creak. When Nate or someone crashed on my couch, they'd wake me up everytime they would come in to use the bathroom. I was so adamant about the door remaining open. Until Ben. A lot of things had changed after that. I can almost draw a line in my life. BB and AB. Before Ben and After Ben. Ben....fucking Ben....

I scooped up the discarded trash and dirty dishes, depositing them in their proper receptacles. I pulled down a pot and began to make tea. Something normal after such a hectic night. Choosing a night time blend over my normal lemon and ginger. I hovered over the steam, breathing in the sweet, flowery scent. I scooped up the cup, and headed out on the fire escape. I let my legs dangle off the edge as I stared off, letting my thoughts run rampant. 

Tonight was a complete and utter shit show. I could shame starting to creep in as the shots wore off. I buried my hands in my face, like that would just wipe it away. It's true, I had been spending most of the night avoiding him. Hearing that he was an abusive stalker was quite a shock. Why hadn't he told me? That's important information to know going into a relationship. I pushed a sigh through my lips. I guess I'm just as guilty about withholding information from him as well. I felt the urge to go in, snag my shoes and go for a walk to clear my head. Deciding against it, I laid back with a huff, staring up at the sky trying to spot what few stars you could see in the city. The little voice in the back of my mind was telling me I jumped in too fast and I wasn't ready for all this yet.

I hadn't realised I fell asleep until I heard Ed's frantic voice above me. I slowly blinked my eyes open, his worried face coming into view. The sky was  streaked gold and pink, casting him in an ethereal glow. I groaned as I sat up, taking his hand to help me up. Every muscle felt stiff as I moved. Ed sat down beside me, his arm coming around my waist. His free hand stroking my hair. I expected him to bombard me with questions, yet he remained silent. Finally I broke the silence. 

"I'm sorry about last night. I should have just asked you about the allegations instead of distancing myself from you and seeing how you reacted. It was childish and if I hadn't been keeping my distance, that guy wouldn't have been able to do what he did."

His concerned expression morphed into one on anger. His brow had pulled down, his hand had froze in place. 

"It doesn't matter what was going on, he never should have done it period. It's not your fault. It's his," He seemed to deflate a little bit, "I'm also sorry. I acted like a child too. I should have told you about those allegations. I just...it wasn't true and I didn't want you thinking I was something I wasn't."

"Hiding it makes it seem like there's more to it than that...but I can't be too mad. I haven't shared everything with you."

"Well, let's fix that. I'll tell you everything. Everything about Allison, the fallout and the reason I'm on this break. I owe you that," He stopped, "No, I owe you more, but that's a start."

"Well, let's make some breakfast and get comfy. We don't need to add uncomfortable due to hunger."

We pitched ideas for a fabulous breakfast spread, both drooling over potential delicacies we could be eating. After 15 minutes of saying you know what sounds good...this...we settled for the high quality, four star meal of toaster strudels, because let's face it. We wanted the food, but neither one of us had the energy to cook said spread.  So we settled into the couch, still giggling over the attempt at stupid doodles that inevitably turned into a giant white puddle.

"Alright, I think I've procrastinated enough now..." He stated as he placed the plate down on the coffee table, "So I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you know next to nothing about me and Allison?"

"Erm...not next to nothing." I wiped the remaining frosting off my face, "I know nothing about Allison and you."

"Okay, then I'll just start from the beginning. Looking back I can see how stupid I was. How young and naive..." He shook his head, "I thought she was perfect, made specifically for me. I couldn't believe my luck. Well...she ended up being too good to be true."

"I know that feeling..." I muttered, then apologised about cutting him off. He waved his hand, taking a sip of water. 

"I met her at the market. She took the last bag of crisps and we ended up chatting a bit before going our separate ways. Ended up running into her a couple days later at my favorite take away place. Made a joke about it being fate and traded numbers so we could plan our next meeting. Took her to an upscale joint and had a typical first date, talked about typical first date things, but she did seem more interested in my touring and  career than my personal life. I didn't think much of it. Most people have questions and I don't mind telling some of my more wilder stories, which she really seemed to enjoy." 

I listened to him, focusing on the way his lips moved, the way his eyes looked. I thought back, about how I had asked about the places he had visited. Places I had dreamt about visiting. He had told me about some of the parties he had went to, but those hadn't really interested me. I never really saw the appeal of giant parties. 

"I just brushed it off as her just living vicariously through me. A lot of people like hearing those types of stories. She'd offhandedly mention how cool it would be to go to one and so, one night I decided to surprise her invited her along. I had expected her to be thrilled, it was all she talked about. Almost to the point of accusing me of being embarrassed of her. Instead, she got angry, saying I had to give her more than a day's notice because she had nothing nice enough to wear. No biggie I thought, so I took her shopping. Let her pick out some clothes, we had plenty of time before we had to be there. We went from store to store, and not to sound like the typical male but, I was getting both bored and frustrated. Every time I'd suggest something she'd get upset and accuse me of rushing her or wanting her to look bad. Finally, she had picked something out that was pretty pricey but at that point I didn't care, I was just ready to leave."

I watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed.  I could tell he was trying to get his story in order by the expression on his face. I sat in silence, my hand resting on his knee, in what I hoped he saw as comforting. He had just started but I could already tell she was no good. I know you're not supposed to make snap judgements of people but she really was coming off as a spoiled princess. It had me wondering what Ed had seen in her. He didn't strike me as the shallow type so it had to be more than a pretty face. 

"When we finally made it to the party, after she had to go home and put on what she called evening makeup." He gave me a little side eye, the corner of his mouth curling up, "I had asked her what was wrong with the makeup she was wearing because she looked gorgeous." He made a face, "Because Ed," His voice high and mimicky, "This is for day, I need a bolder look for night." He did an imaginary hair flip with a scoff. I couldn't help but chuckle. "Seriously though, I'm glad you're lower maintenance than that. Not that you're a slob, but you have more of an effortless beauty, y'know."

"Hey Ed?"

"Yeah?"

"I get what you're saying, you can stop."

He chuckled, "Right, well, We get there finally and we go our separate ways. Which I was cool with. I don't like feeling like a chaperone. So, the night goes on, a lot of drinks have been poured, a lot of joints passed and she's nowhere to be found. After searching the entire house, I find her out by the pool, in just her skivvies, waving around a bottle of booze. I had called for a ride back home and gather up all her shit and get her in the car, all while she's whinging about wanting to stay and party more. She eventually just passes out, I let her sleep it off on my couch and we continue like nothing's happened. This goes on for a couple months. Rehearsals and sound checks during the day, shows in the evening, partying at night."

"The non stop touring was starting to catch up with me. I was getting tired, I was missing home, missing my family and friends. I still had a whole leg of the tour left and I didn't know how, or even if, I was going to make it through." He paused and a somber look passed over his face, "I should have ended it with her when she first offered me molly, but I was lonely and she seemed to be the one that understood me. 'It'll help you get through, baby. You won't feel as worn down. It'll be fun.' Honestly, it didn't take a lot of persuading on her part." He let out a wry chuckle, "She knew I had an addictive personality. She did her research and she did it well. She knew I'd get hooked easy. She knew I'd get hooked on the feeling, the rush, but slowing it stopped working and I would just be numb. So she switched to coke. Line after line. It was all I could think about for months. She made it where I relied on her. Made it where I needed her."

"Stu tried to intervene, but I blew him off. I blew a lot of people off because of her. I almost lost everything. I gave her whatever she wanted since she supplied what I mistaken as happiness. I bought her so much stuff. A house, car, clothes, shoes, purses. I was stupid. So fucking stupid." 

I squeezed his knee, his hand coming over mine. "I've been through dark times before. Couch hopping, sleeping on bus benches. When I first moved to America, but I made it through. This was worse. I was always angry, I lashed out at everyone. Me and her always seemed to argue and after one huge fight, I told her to go back home to give each other space. I stopped partying, finally came to my senses and officially ended things with her. The withdrawals were awful. The body aches, the trembles, the night sweats. The physical stuff lasted a couple weeks, but the mental stuff..." He trailed off, " I wanted it for months. I wish I could say I kicked it completely but I switched to pain pills, I convinced myself that was better since my whole body hurt." 

"Then the public backlash began. I had managed to stay under the radar the entire time but when she went back home, she began telling the press that I was stalking her. That I was sending her unwanted gifts to try sway her. That when she found out I was an addict I tried to buy her silence but giving a house and car, but she 'Couldn't be bought' and that caused me to become violent. She was raking in even more cash by trashing my name. The tabloids loved it. I went from Music Superstar, to deranged druggie singer. My tour was over and I honestly thought it was the end of the road for good. Of course, like all scandals, it blew over and it was on to the next story."

"I wish I could blame it all on her but it was my choice and I have to live with it. I fell for her act. She pegged me right off the bat and it was my choice to stick with her. She was after me for my money and her fifteen minutes. She broke me. She broke my trust and not to sound dramatic, but she broke my soul."

I just sat in silence, trying to process everything. I didn't know what to say, it was just... a lot. I could just stare at him, his head bowed a little, his gaze directed at the floor. My heart hurt for him. I wrap my arm around his shoulders and pull him toward me. I began stroking his hair and he collapsed into me. 

"When's the last time you..." I trailed off timidly , not entirely sure I wanted to know the answer.

"I had some pills the day we fought and I thought it was over," he said quietly. The remorse dripping from his voice. 

"Ah..."  I had a feeling but I still felt my heart sink down into my stomach.

"I'm sorry...it seems like I just keep hurting you..." His voice cracked. I could tell he was close to tears. 

"I stand by what I said. I'll stay as long as you keep working on the underlying issues, but  I won't put up with you popping pills."

"I'm done with that part of my life. I choose you. I want you in my life. You make it so much better and I don't want to do anything that could jeopardize that."

He pushed himself up and looked at me for the first time since he started talking. I half expected his eyes to be red and puffy because it had sounded like he had been crying. Yet, they were the brightest blue I had yet to see, with a gleam behind them that I hadn't seen. He pressed his lips against my temple. 

"I just don't want you thinking I'm a magic cure, okay?"

"Of course you're not. I know it's going to be a lot of work. All relationships are, but you're worth the work Adi. I know there's gonna be hard times, but it's safe to say that the honeymoon phase is over. I'm willing to do the work and effort, the question is, are you?" 

I am? He just dropped a lot of information on me that I still haven't processed. Just how bad was his usauge? Do I really want to know? I mean, that was the past right and we don't live in the past. I kinda feel like that's naive thinking. Of course it impacts the present and future. I did say I would stand by him but how far am I willing to go? Where's the line? 

"Well...I do have concerns...I don't want to be responsible for your relapse if something would happen between us. That's a lot of pressure."

"It would be my choice if that was to happen. I know saying don't worry about it, isn't going to help. What I can say is, I'm getting to the root of the problem. I'm taking the steps help myself. I know things have went kinda fast and everything and that this break isn't going to last forever...but I just want that one special person that I can spend my life with. That enhances it. That makes my life better."

I just stare at him, causing his expression to turn sheepish. 

"And you think that's me?" I barely whisper 

"I think it could be you, yes."

"Wow..." I breathe. 

"Sorry, too much?" 

"Um...I guess I hadn't realised how much of a romantic you are and how much you thought about the future." I began picking at my nails, an old habit I had never been able to shake.

"You don't?"

"I think about the future, but...I guess I've been career oriented too long...I just been focused on that for so long..." The whole 'lumping our stuff together thoughts' crossed my mind again, "But...I could see us being together for a while..."

His face split into a grin, "We just had the where do you think we are in this relationship talk."

I nodded, "Yep, we did."

Ed blew a burst of air out of his lips, "Well, enough for all this seriousness. Let's go and do something fun."

I arch my eyebrow "You got something in mind?"

He smirked, holding out his hand, "Of course I got something in mind."

"Well, then after you." I said, taking his hand. A smile spreading across my face, pushing my fears to the back of my mind. 

I could see a future with us, but will that last when he goes back on the road? How much is going to change then?

#ed sheeran #teddy sheeran #code ginger #ed sheeran fan fic #ed sheeran mature fanfic #ed sheeran fan fiction #ed sheeran fanfiction #ed sheeran fanfic #orginial writing #fanfic #fan fiction #celebrity fanfiction #fan fic #fanfiction #celeb fanfic #unison

[faembrosia]

Mayday

Smoke.

It rose against the horizon, just where the blinding blue broke against the rising gold of barren dunes. It hadn’t been there before. Fresh plumes, newly made. Rey had slunk out from the cold comfort of her fallen AT-AT to fetch her forgotten canteen when she saw it. The sight would have gone unnoticed as her thoughts kept her eyes to the spray of sand where her feet kicked. But once she recognized that familiar grey billow beginning to swallow the emptiness above, she came to an immediate stop.

Crash-site. It must have been. There were no villages that way, no nearly forgotten tribes left to waste their days in the void of Jakku’s dismal desert. She took another step closer to her speeder, her hand reaching instinctively toward the hanging straps of her abandoned canteen, but she hadn’t taken it just yet.

A crash like that meant parts. It meant food. Rations for another day, and gods knew she needed it. Days had gone by since her last good haul. The prices she fetched for what she found were laughable at best. She might have normally spent a moment in quiet solace at the fact that whoever crashed might have-- no, surely did-- lose their life, but the roaring rumble in her stomach silenced any sort of compassion she might have had.

Parts meant food.

The day grew old and the heat reached its highs. Her speeder needed refueling. Maybe an hour worth left in its dwindling tank, but it was a chance she was willing to take if it meant finally finding some bit of dumb luck. Others were surely to see the smoke and come running. If she were the first, it would ensure the best haul on her part. Rey’s mind was made up and before she knew it, she was already speeding across the sand.

It wasn’t upon reaching the near vicinity of the site that she saw how disastrous the landing was. Scrap and other various debris littered a path of nearly a mile long. A torn wing, still smoldering, dug its black fang into the side of a dune-- the cause, surely. Even riding by it she gave a glance to see what damage it had befallen. Cannon fire riddled its plates. A battle.

Rey narrowed her eyes on its design. Crafts like this didn’t frequent Unkar’s shipyard. This was no common cargo ship. Something more.

Across another dune, and then another.

That’s when she happened upon the bulk of it.

An Upsilon-Class Shuttle. Definitely not something that frequented the shipyard. In pieces, it was completely in ruin, but with the right eye-- she could tell in its entirety it was a beast of a machine. There was no time to waste admiring what was. Any second now, she knew the other scavengers would come, picking away what little remained like starved vultures. They were after all just that. Vultures. And she one of their flock.

From what she could tell, the fire originated from the passenger side of the craft, where the wing tore straight through. That meant the majority of the engine was still in tact. Her belly roared with painful glee.

Rey covered herself as best she could, lifted her scarf up and over her nose and mouth, a deterrent for the smoke she would no doubt inhale. The fire would spread. She needed to be quick.

The cockpit glass had shattered on impact. An easy enough entry point, if she ever saw one. The sight of bodies, however, was not a scene she could stomach so easily. The pilot and co-pilot were hardly recognizable. Debris and glass covered most of what she could see, and for that, she was thankful.

Nimble hands pried apart panels, forever searching for the prizes of plunder this shuttle had to offer. The netted bag over her shoulders grew heavier and heavier, but she knew she could not leave just yet. Gluttony-- no, maybe greed-- fueled her to press onward, no matter how hot the interior of the craft became. A step further, she told herself, gutting the insides as if it were some animal to feast on. But Rey didn’t survive this long by being greedy-- she survived out of caution. Carrying as much as she could, she gave one last glance at what soon would become the prey of the others and made her way to leave.

At least, she meant to leave.

Until she heard it so soft, she wasn’t quite sure it was real.

A groan.

A being, still alive.

Pinpricks of chills rolled up her spine as she turned about so suddenly, she threw herself off balance and nearly tumbled to the tilted floor.

“Hello?” she called, voice wavering and mumbled beneath her scarf.

Her eyes narrowed on the shadows-- the near black interior, if not for the scattered holes plunging daylight through the hull, that was. Rey walked further in, ignoring that blaring alarm between her ears to run, run, run.

Another groan-- yes, she was certain.

“Hello?” she called again, firmer, begging for reply. “Is anyone there?”

It was near the back of the shuttle, in a compartment holding little more than a durasteel slab for a bed that she found him-- or perhaps, it.

A cloaked figure, laying idle against the cold, colorless wall. Arms hung lifeless at its side, and it wasn’t until approach that she saw the blood oozing from a wound where a sharp piece of metal plunged deep into the figure’s shoulder. Rey dropped her plunder and stole closer in a race.

“Hold on,” she told the masked being, eyes latched on the shrapnel. “Just... hold on.”

Wheezing breaths came off like static through the damaged modulator. The weight alone of that helm must be an unbearable thing.

“I need to get this thing off,” she said-- more to herself than the injured thing she knelt beside. “Just... stay still for a moment.”

Her fingers danced against the jawline. There must be a lever-- a button or even a strap that--

A hiss of a mechanism responded to her efforts.

Ah.

The figure shifted, attempting to raise a hand.

“Keep still,” she commanded. “You’ll worsen the wound.”

Hopefully it understood Common.

Her lips curled together beneath her teeth as she lifted the dreadfully heavy apparatus off this creature to see what manner of monster hid beneath it.

To her surprise, it was no monster at all.

It was a man.

Waves of coal-black hair, slick with sweat, clung to his pallid cheeks. Eyes were strained and hooded, as it appeared he fought through the pain-- fought to stay conscious. There was no hope getting him to stand on his own, no hope for him at all. Surely the wound was too severe. Any attempt to move him and he’d bleed out all over her. Was it more merciful to let him slip into sleep? To let him descend to the dark without causing any more pain?

Rey gave a last glance to the wound before looking back to the hull. The heat in the shuttle was becoming unbearable. The fire was spreading. There was a chance she could get him out, it would be unpleasant. There was a chance, but her speeder could only carry so much weight before dragging across the sand and sputtering to an inevitable halt. If she freed this man from the shuttle, she would be sacrificing the parts. There was no way she could save both.

Parts meant food. It meant surviving.

Rey looked back to the man, barely alive, barely holding on-- barely surviving.

Her stomach clenched. It growled and snarled in anger, but she knew what it was she had to do.

“I’m getting you out of here,” she told the man. “I need you to hang on. This... this isn’t going to be much fun for you.”

Inch by inch, she shifted him, until his back lay weak against her knees. A heave, a huff, and she looped her arms beneath his and began dragging-- minding the shrapnel. It was about then that he fell unconscious, but not before letting off a moan of deafening pain.

Rey needed to not focus on that now. She needed to get him out of here. There were supplies in her home-- bacta patches, bandages. If he survived until then, she was certain she could find a way to patch him together. Her thoughts were so wrapped in insuring his recovery, that she somehow heaved him through the cockpit and unto the sand below.

This man was big. Much bigger than she.

“Couldn’t have been,” she huffed as she pulled him further. “An ewok.” She huffed and pulled. “Or a Jawa.” Huff. Pull. “Had to have been... something much bigger. Heavier, even!”

He was as far as he needed to be from the wreckage. Far as she could get him without her arms giving out and turning just as limp as his. Rey raced to her speeder and brought it near. It took coaxing, and leverage, but she managed to hoist him atop it. His frame was heavy between her arms. There was no way he was going to survive all this movement and lifting, but as she strapped him down behind her, she could still feel the heavy rise and fall of his breaths.

A fighter.

“I’ll get you somewhere safe,” she softly told him as she took her place before him. “Don’t you worry.”

His breathing responded to that. It calmed, slowed. Not giving in-- she thought. Just finding solace.

A hopeful smile pulled against her lips before she looked at the dunes ahead and fired up the speeder. Like a bolt of red, they soared across the sand to find safety, to find healing.

If Rey only knew how much pain this half-dead man would soon cause her. 

#reylo #reylo fanfic #kylo x rey #i did not expect to write this #i definitely do not expect to turn this into anything #but i had to start it at least #crash landing on jakku #rey saves the day

[amoretheiwa]

The Dark Knight and the Boy Scout

Here is the entire Prologue under the cut; link to this and AO3 can also be found at amoretheiwa.tumblr.com/dkandbs

Read on AO3

Prologue 1: Crime Alley

 As the family of three exited the theatre, Breanna Wayne found her fear slowly melting away in the cool night air. She lead the way in front of her parents as they walked onto Park Row. It was lit for the most part, with a small stretch of inky dark shadows crawling towards the streetlamp at the end, where the road met up again with the small lane.

“Did you enjoy the picture after all, dear?” Her father called out to her. They had left shortly after the intermission, the young Wayne child frightened by the play.

Breanna turned around and grinned. Her dress was a miniature version of her mother’s, all dark blue and sparkling, with a light coat on top. One could imagine the glitter on the skirt and bodice swirled to look like stars and streams in the night sky, but someone who had not left Gotham in some time would not recognize the night sky without the smog and orange glow it seemed to permanently possess.

“It’s not so scary now! Now I want to be just like Zorro,” the young girl said as she waved the crumpled program like a sword. “But a girl Zorro!” Her own sound effects and murmured narration told the tale of a brave swordswoman, fighting off villains left and right, all while wearing a dark mask. She jabbed, taking one step forward, and whirled, throwing her arms out in an elegant parry.

Martha laughed and leaned closer to her husband. Both had brown eyes, but where Thomas had dark brown hair Martha had golden brown. Neither of them was entirely sure where Breanna got the blue eyes and black hair from.

“I think that Breanna may want to exchange her horse lessons for fencing classes.”

Thomas Wayne laughed, watching his daughter jump a few feet in front of them. His heart panged at the thought of Breanna growing up.

“I think so. Maybe when she older, say…30?”

“Dad!” Breanna protested, glancing back with a pout on her lips that lasted for only a moment.

“Dad! What if I did both? Both horse riding lessons and fencing!”

He laughed again as Martha chuckled, shaking his head. Martha glanced at him and pressed his arm. They shared a look before he sighed.

“That’s an awful lot of time not spent on school work or play. We’ll talk about it when we get home,” he trailed off slowly, his eyes locked on something above Breanna’s head.

She whirled around, fear stabbing her heart in a way it hadn’t reached, even sitting in that dark theatre. A figure in shadows stepped forward and the sound that echoed in her small mind was unmistakable as that of a gun cocking.

“Nice night out, ain’t it?” The man asked. There was something slimy and terror-inducing in his voice, Breanna thought. She clenched the program in both hands against her chest

“It is a nice night,” Thomas said sternly but not unkind. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re just passing through.”

“Oh of course, no worries. I just require some sort of…payment,” the man leered. His face was mostly obscured by the hat he wore. Breanna found a part of her brain, removed from this unfolding horror, wondering why he was wearing a hat at night.

“How about them pearls?” He said, gesturing with the gun.

“Give me the necklace and nobody gets hurt, lady.”

Martha’s hands immediately went towards her neck, not to unclasp the pearls but to hover over them. Breanna’s eyes darted to her parents, stumbling back a few steps and running into the rough, brick wall.

“There’s no need for that,” Thomas said. He took a half-step forward, raising his hands.

“I can give you money instead and—”

“No!” The man with the gun shouted, his own hand beginning to shake.

Suddenly there was a loud bang and Breanna’s mother was screaming. Breanna turned around, taking a step back, and watched as her father fell to the ground.

Martha moved forward, to either catch her husband or protect her daughter Breanna would never know, and then all too soon Mrs. Wayne was falling as well. Breanna could only watch, petrified, as her mother’s pearls all seemed to roll as far away as possible. The running footsteps of the man—murderer—were muffled, distant. Breanna could not move, not when there was a kind young woman holding her, not when the police showed up and the rain started, not when the young officer James Gordon gave her his coat.

She didn’t move until she heard a familiar voice call her name.

“Alfred!” She cried out, turning and running to the butler. She crashed into him, sobbing for the first time that night, and not letting go even when he stood up with her in his arms. His face was gaunt and pale, and his eyes were stuck on the covered bodies even while his hands grabbed the child to his legs.

“If you have all the information you need from Miss Wayne, I believe I’ll be taking her back to the Manor.”

“Oh, oh of course Mr. Pennyworth. Here’s my number, I’m…I’m so sorry. I wish there was something we could have done.”

“You have nothing to apologize for Officer…?”

“Gordon. James Gordon. Let me know if I can do anything, please, me or my wife.”

“Me as well, Alfred.”

“Thank you both, Officer Gordon, Ms. Thompkins. It will…be a trying time.”

 The drive back to the manner was all wrong to the British man. Normally one or both of the adult Wayne’s would sit in back with their daughter, laughter and quiet talking filling the car more than any music ever could. Alfred had her sit in the front seat this time, so as to keep an eye on her and remind himself that there was still a Wayne whom he was to take care of, and kept the radio turned off. There was no music, no talking, no sound but her crying. By now it had quieted to a shaking weep.

The butler glanced as his young charge, his heart tightening at the same time as his throat. He blinked away tears almost the entire drive, focusing on breathing and the road. There were a few moments where he almost could not stop himself from pulling to the side, but the soldier in him pushed onward, out of that wretched city.

He slowed the car on the gravel driveway, directly in front of the Manor’s front doors. He turned the keys in the ignition, the engine turning off, but couldn’t bring himself to pull the keys out fully or even get out of the car. Breanna’s renewed crying, louder now, pushed him out of his stupor. He breathed out a heavy breath of air and as he walked around the car looked up at the sky. He dragged open the car door and leaned down, gently coaxing the young girl into his arms. He walked into the Manor in a trance, the doors slamming shut in a crash behind them.

   Prologue 2: Global Academy

 At age 10 Breanna Wayne did not leave Alfred Pennyworth alone until he enrolled her in a private martial arts course. Two years had come and gone since her parent’s murder, with the police investigation deciding in the end that is was pure bad luck and not some malicious plot to end the kind and benevolent affect the Wayne family had on Gotham. Both Breanna and Alfred has spent the majority of those two years grieving.

She pushed herself to mastering all forms and styles of hand-to-hand combat known (at first the excuse was self0defense but after her first five months it quickly lost its effectiveness of a lie), also insisting on extra classes to supplement her until-then regular education. The butler did not bat an eye at her requests, even when the child simply soaked up all the information he could give her during her school hours. Breanna was focused, far more so than a child of ten and an orphan should have any right being. But, he had reasoned with himself, at least this drive to become something better and to be prepared for some dark inevitability was healthier than the potential decay into something less than human.

Homeschooling the orphan had been the best decision they could have made, as it allowed the young Wayne heir to adapt as slowly or quickly as she wanted to her new parentless life. According to her parent’s will, Alfred was her sole guardian and holder of her inheritance until she was 25. Some members of the Wayne Industries board had tried to contest that, but their greed was seen through and a grieving city quickly acted without mercy.

There were always bad days, of course, and certain anniversaries were worse than others. Birthdays, holidays, and other such formerly-family events earned a day spent mourning and going through photo albums followed by a week-long vacation to a place of her choosing. It was a bargain the two of them had struck—Alfred’s only requirements were that they went somewhere new every trip. Breanna did not protest. Soon she had finagled trips to every continent and insisted on learning everything she could about the places they visited, from history to culture to modern politics. She rarely interacted with others her age who were also in the same demographic.

From that young age, there were clearly two Breanna Wayne’s that Alfred knew. One was the girl who smiled and still liked flowers and pearls despite her trials in life. The girl who just wanted to help make the world a better place, but didn’t mind having others do the actual work for her when it came to being in public. The other Breanna Wayne was one who rarely smiled but enjoyed classic literature intended for someone far older than her. She preferred practicality and the guarantee of doing something yourself than anything else, and was as far from trusting as any child had a right to be. Alfred worried, but did not stop her.

By the time she was 15, Breanna had graduated from high school and was proficient in all forms of hand-to-hand combat that were possible to be learned without traveling through time. She had started puberty on a down day, a down week really. Alfred was calm throughout it all but could not replace the mother figure the young woman needed. And so entered Leslie Thompkins once again. The kind doctor was one of the many who had been close to the Wayne’s on a personal level, and so tried to spend as much time as she could with the butler and his charge. She was young and idealistic, but much of her naivete was lost the same night Breanna lost her world. So she taught Breanna basic medicine and first aid, and had her help in her free clinic, interacting with the people of Gotham not from behind a podium or flashing cameras but surrounded by wounds of all kinds and real world problems.

Online college courses at multiple universities, another four years, another few dozen countries, and three almost (four degrees later) Breanna Wayne was finally willing to fully re-enter the social scene that her family’s wealth demanded of her. Alfred had helped her keep her life fairly private, only surfacing for key anniversaries and charity events, such as those held for the Martha Wayne foundation. She did not fancy the “young and rich” life many others close to her age and who possessed similar fortunes seemed to enjoy, and was considered to be overly somber and serious by her peers.

And then she disappeared for two years, and not even Alfred knew where she was. He presented a calm façade and only Leslie aware of the truth (what little he did know; she was alive, and well, training in some far-off land). When she came back she was still two different people in the same body. One was the face she showed the public, enjoying some of the aspects of wealthy life that she had previously ignored. Hundreds of dates in just a few months but without embarrassing drunk moments or trips to either party’s residence had the press scratching their heads. But Alfred clearly saw it—as a woman in the spotlight, she could not afford to be selfish and indulged in everything she fancied, whether it was truly something she enjoyed or not, or else the reputation she was now trying to build would be weakened. In the privacy of Wayne Manor, she complained of the unfairness of society’s double standard concerning genders, and what her male companions could get away with that she could not.

The other persona was just as serious before, but no longer spent free time studying old authors and ways of the world. Rather, this Breanna Wayne now studied forensics and criminal psychology alongside the global economy and attended Wayne Enterprise meetings, learning everything about all of her employees from every janitor to each member of the Board of Directors. Alfred ignored the time she spent in the caverns under the Manor until he was one day invited to help her install a computer system of sorts.

It took some time, but soon Breanna had re-established herself as the working CEO of Wayne Industries, proving that her “fun times” with the other social elite did not interfere with her ability to be the upright business and philanthropist figure Gotham and the rest of the world desperately needed and wanted from her. By the time of her 21st birthday Breanna was in the news nearly as much as her parents had been prior to their death, for both good and suspicious things.

Lucius Fox, head of Wayne Tech’s Research and Development department, and Alfred Pennyworth, still the Wayne family butler, became even better friends as the young woman truly split her time between solely work, home, and play. However, a fourth category was about to be born and neither man knew just how involved they were going to end up until she finally convinced them both to be accomplices. Alfred was not surprised when the completed “Cave” beneath the Manor soon became one of the places he would most often find his still-young charge. Lucius was a frequent visitor, and soon became familiar with the Cave as well.

  Prologue pt. 3: The Interview A

 The public was, in general, not privy to her extensive education, as they merely knew her to be successful and skilled at her job as CEO, and as such few reporters and journalists bothered to learn about more than her social life and current charity project, and anything that had either her name or that of her business in the news. Because of that it was a bit of a shock to the young woman when her not-quite-annual interview with the Daily Planet—an exclusive interview they got at least once yearly because she had made the mistake of purchasing the media source—on the eve of her parent’s death’s anniversary was not with one of the many gossip article writers but the famed Lois Lane.

Her articles tended to be of a more serious nature, with a good portion being about the alien superhero who roamed her skies and protected Metropolis. The other majority of her writing was about sensitive or important topics that no one else seemed to have the guts to write about. She had won the Pulitzer for a reason, and was considered one of the best investigative journalists of their time, with no one except maybe Clark Kent or Iris West coming close. Lois Lane’s name was just as well-known as Breanna’s in some circles.

She was picked up from the Gotham Airport by a driver hired by Miss Wayne, and greeted at the door by Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne family’s butler. Once she was inside he lead the reporter through the foyer, down a hallway, and into a study.

Large windows framed by huge curtains let sunlight filter into and brighten the room. Walls made of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, an empty fireplace, and extremely comfortable looking furniture created an overall cozy environment. Above the mantle was a portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne, smiling lovingly with a gentle downward-look. Breanna had been sitting in the seat behind the large mahogany desk, typing away at a computer, but when her guests entered she stood, a soft smile gracing her face. She walked forward and shook Lois’ hand as Alfred backed out, murmuring something about afternoon tea, softly closing the door.

Even in small heels Lois was inches shorter than Breanna Wayne, who wore dark teal flats with a gold emblem on the toes. Her shoulder-length wavy black hair moved with her head as she turned towards a small sitting area.

“Hello, Ms. Lane. I hope your trip here was uneventful,” her voice was silvery; not in the suspicious way that most politicians or businessmen (like Lex Luthor) spoke, with an underlying hint towards malice or betrayal, but in the true definition of the word: clear, pleasant, and soft.

Her bright blue eyes were framed in simple black eyeliner done stylishly, a neutral color gloss was the only other tint on her face, and simple pearl stud earrings were the only jewelry other than a simple light brown leather watch that the heiress wore. A simple black turtleneck made of some sort of expensive fabric looked good, not old-fashioned, on her. Matching black jeans with the hems rolled once all made her outfit simple with an understated sense of fashion.

“Oh, it was,” Lane said with a grin.

“No Superman sighting?” Breanna joked, stepping back and gesturing towards the seats in front of the fireplace.

“No, thank heavens,” Lane took a seat first. “Seeing Superman almost always means being near some sort of danger.”

“I’m glad then that you didn’t see him,” Breanna took her own seat.

“Me too, believe me. I think I’ve seen enough of the Man of Steel to last me a life time.”

Breanna smiled, face tilting just barely.

“Oh? From the way your city idolizes him, and how some of your colleagues write, one would think he’s a pleasure to be around.”

“He’s a hero, simple as that. Not exactly of this world, if you catch my drift. It’s hard to be friends with someone who’s both an alien and such a huge figure. But it is nice to catch up without bullets or falling,” Lois said with a laugh.

Breanna grinned in agreement.

“Do you mind if I record everything from here on out?” Lois asked, bringing out an old-fashioned recorder and holding it out. Her demeanor had barely shifted, the reporter surfacing.

Breanna’s eyes widened minimally but she nodded.

“Go right ahead.”

Lois turned it on and set it down on the coffee table between them.

“How has the weather been in Gotham recently, Miss Wayne?” Lois asked, leaning back as she balanced a notepad and pen on her crossed legs. She was wearing her usual matching purple pencil skirt and blazer over a white blouse, her black hair down and over her shoulders. “Breanna, please. And it’s been…the normal, for Gotham at least.”

Lois smiled, and glanced down at her lap.

“Alright then, Breanna, call me Lois.  How have you been? Recently all Cat’s written about you is some contradictory information about a Jaden and a Mose. That can’t have been easy, juggling twins.”

Breanna laughed, a chiming sound.

 Prologue pt. 3: The Interview B

 “I don’t exactly know what she was writing about myself. You see, I happened to go on a date with Jaden, but in the process met his twin brother Mose. We then went out on a date a few weeks later, but neither went anywhere farther than the respective restaurants. It was the scandal of the week as I had apparently convinced Cat—and the world—that I was seriously dating Lex Luthor.”

“Were you dating Luthor, seriously or otherwise?”

Breanna shook her head with a smile.

“No, not at all. Lex and I were meeting multiple times a week to set up a new joint project between our companies but our visions did not align. You can’t blame Cat though, she was extremely thorough in her investigation of my life: there’s just not that much to find that you don’t already see.”

“Cat definitely gets what she wants most of the time,” Lois said. “Could you possibly tell us more about this failed project?”

Breanna stared past Ms. Lane, her lips moving in a circle before opening in response.

“There’s not much that I can actually say about the project itself seeing as how Lex is planning to go through with it on his own now, as much as he is able without Wayne Industries unique assistance.”

Lois nodded, scribbling something down on her notepad. She leaned forward slightly, her blue eyes narrowed.

“Do you think you could instead tell us—me—what about your visions didn’t align?”

Breanna stilled for a second before letting loose a deep breath. Lois had to hide a grin—not many broke past the shell Breanna Wayne portrayed towards almost all media personnel, but things seemed to be pointing to a rare genuine interview with the young woman.

“Since my parents passed, I’ve tried to do all I can to help others as they would have wanted. The Wayne fortune is not meant to be solely saved for my pleasure and future posterity. It is a blessing and one that I must share. People sometimes confuse helping others with throwing money at them, but the Wayne Industries employees and I have found that when you educate someone and provide the tools they need, then you are better providing help than if you just gave them a $1000 a month.”

“That sounds like a PR statement, not an answer,” Lois prodded. Breanna smiled without showing her teeth.

“Let’s just say that I think there is a necessary need for distance when helping someone while still remaining relatively close, and Lex is more of the opinion that total control will garner a faster and longer lasting result.”

Lois nodded, and wrote a few things down before speaking again.

“You mentioned your parents and what they would have wanted. Is that as in what they would have wanted from you as their sole heir, or wanted from the rest of the world?”

Breanna pursed her lips as she stared at Lois who held her hand over her notepad, poised to start writing again.

“They were kind people. I like to think that I knew them better than most despite how young I was when they were murdered, or at least had a unique perspective that no one except maybe Alfred shared. In that respect I think it’s what they would have wanted from both me and the rest of Gotham and our country and the world.”

The other woman nodded understandingly.

“As tomorrow will mark the 13th anniversary of their passing, what do you think they would think of you now? And of Wayne Industries, and Gotham?” She asked.

Breanna looked at her, surprise coloring her expression for a moment. As she sucked on her bottom lip, the 21-year-old orphan shifted in her seat so that the opposite leg was now underneath the other.

“I think they would be proud of what I’ve done with both myself and the company. I did not allow their passing to control the rest of my life, nor did I turn towards any sort of unsavory pastime to “cope”,” here she used air quotes. “Wayne Industries is doing better than ever, and is involved in more charity and goodwill than most other companies can boast. Gotham, however, is a different answer entirely.”

Breanna opened her mouth to respond, her eyebrows coming down in a briefly angry expression. She was stopped from responding as someone knocked on the study door.

“Come in,” she called out, instead of whatever she had been about to say.

Alfred pushed the door openly gently with a black wooden tray in his hands.

“Forgiven the intrusion, Miss, but I brought some refreshments. Ms. Lane.”

After setting it down the butler disappeared quietly once again. Breanna smiled at the reports and waved a hand over the tray.

“Please, take whatever you want.”

Lois was a little surprised to find a bowl of fresh strawberries and blueberries next to a small spoon, one of her personal favorites. There was a second plate, and this one was full of what looked like fluffy diamonds of pastry with a dark filling—baklava.

“Alfred sure does his research,” Lois said as she picked up the spoon clearly meant for her.

Breanna grinned, picking up her treat.

“He prides himself on being the best butler possible. I don’t know what I would have done without him all these years.”

They both chewed for a few seconds, savoring a few bites before Lois put her bowl back down. She swallowed rather obviously.

“What were you going to say about Gotham, Breanna?”

The heiress daintily finished chewing, and swallowed.

“It’s probably a good thing Alfred interrupted,” she said quietly, looking out the window at nothing. The mood shifted at that moment.

“I’ve seen the harshest, cruelest that Gotham has to offer, and at a young age too. And now? In so many ways Gotham had just gotten worse, and in very few ways aspects has it improved. Wayne Industries has provided jobs but crime is still steadily rising. My parent’s killer was never found, never brought to justice…” here she seemed to truly leave the room.

“I will never have any sense of closure concerning their deaths, and that combined with the sheer unnecessariness of their deaths will always haunt me,” she murmured.

Lois’ eyebrows lowered minimally.

“I’m sorry!” Breanna turned around and faced the journalist, her eyes wide and a hand over her mouth. “That was so un-tactful of me to say, such a downer. Please don’t publish that portion, I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention to what I was saying.”

“Alright, Breanna. I’ll do that for you,” Lois said. The mood was darkly somber and over the course of the next few questions it seemed that Breanna Wayne’s walls were back up.

 A little under an hour later, and Lois had enough for more than just one article. Breanna came with Alfred to show her out and once she was gone the heiress collapsed on the couch in the living room. Her butler sat down in the seat across from the coffee table and shook his head.

“You should have done more to focus the interview Mrs. Wayne’s foundation, in my opinion.”

Breanna groaned and turned over, facing the cushions and throwing a leg over the back of the couch. She mumbled something into the cushions.

“Miss Wayne,” Alfred said in his scolding voice, “please refrain from treating the furniture as such. The Manor is your home, not a playground.”

Breanna twisted in such a way that all of her body except for her shoulders, neck, head, and hands were off the couch and in the air. Alfred sighed and stood, glancing at her charge.

“Your scheduled meeting with Mr. Fox is in an hour. If you truly want to convince him to be on board with your future night-time endeavors, then you may want to have all of your material compiled, if it isn’t already.”

Breanna straightened up into a handstand and blew out a burst of air.

“My stuff is together, I’m just not sure if I am.”

She fell back onto the couch, the handstand not a perfected move in her arsenal quite yet.

“Miss Wayne!”

  Prologue pt. 4: Birth of a Bat A

 Alfred stood on one side of the fairly large island in the relatively large kitchen. He was stirring something in a bowl, but Breanna neither knew what it was or even truly realized what he was doing. She was speaking to herself, and speaking quickly. He added the ingredients as they were needed, and didn’t even bother to pretend to respond as he knew she wasn’t really listening.

“I want to do this, I’ve wanted to do this for months, years now! I can’t just turn back now that it’s a reality. I’ve owned my fears and fought hard to get to this point. Especially after all the work it took to convince you and Lucius and Leslie to even agree to help me, let alone think it will be a good idea.”

She swiped a grape from a bowl on the counter and chewed it and another quickly before continuing.

“But it’ll be so dangerous, and who knows if I’ll be making a difference or doing any good? Look at Metropolis! Superman shows up, an alien, and then supervillains start popping up and he’s no longer able to help every single little person because there are times when he’s too focused on taking down the big bad guy. He barely keeps his people safe and he has powers! I’m just a human, and no amount of training or armor or even allies will help me if some perp with a gun gets in a lucky shot.”

She grabbed another grape, Alfred glancing up at her. She had paced the same few feet of the kitchen enough times he was contemplating on asking her to move so as to ever out the wear of the floor. He smiled to himself and shook his head—the British man doubted she would register that he had spoken.

“But who else will protect the people of Gotham? Who else will help the few good cops like Gordon who are still fighting the good fight? I have a suit, a codename, an entire volume of contingencies ready for almost possible every situation, all the training I could hope for, a butler, a doctor, and someone who knows how to fix my tools better than I do. No one else could or would do this for Gotham.”

Yet another grape was stolen, and Alfred found himself sighing. It wasn’t often but sometimes Breanna would eat an entire container of grapes mindlessly if not stopped. She wasn’t even halfway through this cluster of the fruit yet but he figured he should stop her while she was ahead.

“Miss Wayne, if the past decade of doubts and questions you’ve had and posed have not been enough to dissuade you, and the worries others have brought up, and the extensive training and borderline torture you’ve experienced for this moment has not truly stopped you then I believe that you have nothing to worry about.”

Breanna stared at him, chewing on yet another grape.

“True.”

He pursed his lips and went back to his business, pouring what he had been stirring into a baking pan, smoothing the top with the spatula he had used to stir with.

“I’ll be down in the cave then, finalizing things for tonight. The Bat of Gotham’s first appearance!”

And she was gone. Alfred paused for a moment before taking a grape for himself. He made a face and promptly spit it out into the trashcan. Green grapes may be Breanna’s favorite but they were most certainly not his.

 The car was loud, and originally that was not something Breanna was happy about. But then Lucius showed her that it could be made silent, and had all sorts of other fancy tricks such as autopilot. Having barely just parked, she jumped out of it, billowing her cloak behind her in a move that had, admittedly, been practiced a hundred times to perfection. She landed on the ground in a crouch and stood. The design of her cloak allowed the fabric to fall forward in a protective manner without any movement from the wearer.

She lifted her arm and shot off a grappling hook, rising into the air rapidly. She landed on the roof of the nearest building and began moving. A bored British voice crackled in her ear.

“It appears that there is robbery about to occur just a block north of your position. A small convenience store, family owned.”

“On my way,” she said. The voice synthesizer worked even over the comms, and Alfred had yet to get used to the voice that was both not his mistress’ and was.

“These are just your average thieves off the street, no malicious planning from what I can tell Miss.”

There was no confirming sound, but then again she didn’t need one. A figure in shadows across the street, the Bat was crouched on the edge of the roof. One of the three men—boys really—had a gun pulled on the man behind the cashier, the man whose family owned the store.

She shot the grappling hook again, this time gliding downwards through the already open doors. When Breanna stood up to her full height, the cape coming in front, and stared down the thugs.

“What the hell are you?” The one holding the gun finally got out, staring at her.

“Nothing good for you,” she murmured. The voice synthesizer she wore not only deepened her voice and added a few elements she did not naturally possess, but also made it sound like she was practically growling with every word she spoke.

One of the two not holding the gun looked at his companions before running out of the store. The other one stepped back, raising his hands.

“Man, you crazy. What are you supposed to be? Some sort of monster?”

She tilted her head and looked at the gun less would-be thief, narrowing her eyes. She took a step forward and the gun was turned on her. The cashier turned and ran, going through a back door. The hand holding the gun began to shake.

Without moving her cape, she grabbed a smoke pellet and dropped it on the ground just before pressing a button that released an EMP, causing even the emergency lights to flicker before going out.

The one who was not holding a gun promptly screamed and tried to run out, stumbling and tripping and almost face planting. The one holding the gun dropped it and raised his hands above his head. A siren finally reached their ears, and flashing red and blue lights illuminated the shop now empty but for the almost-thief. He looked around in confusion, desperately trying to figure out where the masked, costumed freak had gone.

The police officer who ended up viewing the footage recovered from the store in order to validate the perp’s story (and to identify the other two attempted thieves) had the unfortunate chance to discover that Gotham now had its own monster. The question that soon was spread throughout the police station was what was it, and was it going to do good or do bad.

 Prologue pt. 4: Birth of a Bat B

 Later that month, when the night had reached a point that most other cities would have been long asleep, the Bat found herself almost too tired to continue what had become her routine. She knew she should turn in, but decided that one last stop wouldn’t hurt. After all, every moment counted in Gotham.

When she finally made it back to the Cave and dragged herself out of the car and promptly fell to the ground, she regretted that. A lucky stab in the dark that had caught one of the three weaknesses of the suit left her left leg throbbing and dripping blood. Fortunately, Alfred was prepared and had already set up all the first aid she could need.

Later that night found an exhausted Breanna Wayne laying on top of the covers of her bed, scrolling on her “night work” tablet, reading some police reports on certain patterns in one Gotham neighborhood.

Without knocking Alfred walked in, a small tray with a single steaming mug resting on it. He put the tray on the empty bedside table, glancing at her and her hands.

“Here is your favorite, Miss Wayne, some fresh hot chocolate without the cinnamon.” She smiled up at him and took a sip right then and there. Halfway through the mug and she realized that Alfred had yet to leave.

“What, what are you—” a yawn interrupted her, the mug beginning to slip from her fingers. Alfred took it and the tablet from her, and Breanna realized right before her eyes fell shut that her butler must have drugged her.

 Breanna was more than a little frustrated. She had been active in Gotham for three months now and—yes, she had saved quite a few lives and stopped over a hundred robberies and beatings—nothing had truly seemed to work. And those who were talking about her were constantly fighting to assign a gender to her. Why did it matter if the Bat was a man or woman? Alfred and Lucius never failed to point out the benefits of letting people assume she was a man, and begrudgingly Breanna agreed.

All the police had were increasing reports and blurry pictures of a figure dressed as a bat and criminals who were spreading rumors of some freak prowling Gotham; in Breanna’s mind she was having no real impact. Not like Superman in Metropolis, the only other costumed hero working for the same things she was. Though, Breanna amended her thought, I have heard rumors of an arrow-shooting man in Starling City and a flying woman with a sword most heard of overseas or in DC.

Crouched on one of the many gargoyles that littered Gotham’s architecture for no true reason other than misplaced aesthetic, the Bat watched the street below. One of two contacts she had already established had tipped her off to a fairly big heist planned to happen right around midnight. And so she watched, and she waited, and when she saw that everything was seconds away from happening she swooped in.

The jewelry store that was about to be robbed was full of about 20 people, all wearing masks and black, and the shattering glass sprayed over them. Some were frightened and trigger happy and bullets sprayed towards her. Breanna pulled her cloak tighter around and covered her face, grateful for Lucius’ insistence on an unnaturally strong fabric. When the room had stilled, she stood up to her full height, also thanking her foresight for having lifts and slight heels in her boots, making her well over 6 feet tall.

“Yo, I told you this was a bad idea,” someone whispered.

“It’s that Bat thing! The one Jerry was telling us about!” someone else said.

Breanna took half of a step forward and bullets were spraying again, the few who weren’t holding guns moving behind their companions.

“Kill it!” the leader screamed, moving forward minimally. Breanna bent down a little, lifting her cape again, this time to hide her movements as she loosened some smoke pellets and a flashbang grenade. With a dramatic swing of her arm she threw the grenade into the middle of the thieves, and with eyes closed dropped the smoke pellets. The chaos and confusion that ensued allowed her to quickly either decapitate or injure beyond moving all 20. She slipped out, sprinting to the closest corner, and fired a grappling hook.

From the roof across the street that she had formerly been perched on she listened to the police radio, hearing now-familiar voices discuss the scene before them. The conversation had not gone anywhere past “that bat thing again?” when Breanna heard a scream. She raced across the rooftop and looked down where she watched as three large figures seemed to be cornering a short woman whose purse was held tightly against her chest.

The Bat sighed and dropped down, gliding on her cape. She stared at the scene unfolding in front of her from the shadows. She had not been noticed yet and so with one fluid motion she threw one of her bat-shaped ninja stars. It cut into the brick wall next to the cornered woman, not near hurting her but just missing the smallest thug’s ear. The woman screamed, covering her face with her purse, as the three turned around.

“I ain’t done nothing wrong yet!” One of them shouted, holding his hands up in the sky. Breanna glared at him and moved low to the ground as she threw a bola at the two on either side. She came up and punched the man in the center squarely in the jaw, and he went flying into the wall. He slumped to the ground, out cold, and by then the police had somehow noticed or been alerted to the events happening in the alley.

Turned around, about to fire a grappling hook up into the night and fly off, Breanna was stopped by two arms quickly coming around her back.

“Thank you,” the woman whispered, and quickly let go.

The Bat didn’t turn around before leaving.

 Later that same night, sitting in her cave, she watched the woman’s testimony on the live feed from the police station. With her fingers steepled in front of her face, her chin leaning against her hands, Breanna’s face showed no emotion.

“I swear! It was a woman, maybe not human but definitely a woman. When I thanked her I felt it,” the woman she had saved insisted.

The sounds of Alfred entering the cave with a tray of something prompted her to turn it off. A huge bat symbol took up the center of the main screen, and she nudged the chair so that she was facing her butler.

“A successful night, I presume?”

“It was, Alfred.”

She swiped one of the sandwiches off the tray before he finished setting it down, nibbling in thought. Superman was unique. He was an alien, an entity who could fly, had super-strength, and a plethora of other powers. He inspired people and made them feel safe, even outside of Metropolis. Breanna could admit—she had been jealous at the age of 19 when he first made his public debut. Her crusade was against the darker kinds of criminals, one’s who a flying Boy Scout wouldn’t be enough to stop, and she didn’t have anything he had.

The alien did a good job of keeping his identity a secret, and even her extensive research had not revealed who he was when not wearing the suit. Breanna shrugged mentally; one way or another she would figure it out, and hopefully before something happened.

“I believe I’ll be turning in soon, Alfred.”

“Alright, Miss. Should I turn down the covers for you? Shine the car perhaps?”

Breanna grinned up at him, still working her way through the sandwich.

“No, I think I’m good.”

“Very well then, I shall see you in the morning. Good night.”

“Good night,” she murmured to his turned back.

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