#this piece's real title is “soaking wet fucking idiot”

[professional-sand-eater]

@namethat-i-oughttohavetoldyou

My secret Santa drawing for you, Merry holidays and stuff :)))

#myart #cats the musical #Asperagus cats #munkustrap #bill bailey #Pouncival #jellylorum #Cassandra cats #alonzo cats #cats demeter #bombalurina #jellicle cats #watercolor #this piece's real title is “soaking wet fucking idiot”

[donaidk]

Marcus Armstrong - Almost Home I.

In advance: This is getting a Part 2 for sure. I don’t want to leave it here, but at the same time I felt like it would be really long if I left it in one piece. Turns out I have a whole lot of inspiration for Marcus fics right now. 😂 I also wanna let everyone, who’s waiting for their request, know that uni is starting next week for me. It means less free time, but I will make sure to finish every one of them in the next week or so, and then focus on all the series I started. There’s gonna be slower updates to them, but I’ll make sore to have one or two per week at least. Hopefully they won’t try to kill us in the starting weeks and I will finish up the Lando one so I could start posting that every week and just add some parts from the others to the queue 😊

Thank you Anon for requesting this one though, and sorry for the wait. Hope you will enjoy it and as it’s almost the next day here, have a really happy start to your Friday everyone 🧡

Kind of Taglist: @mickschumcher​, @art-gp​

Title Song | Masterlist | Taglist/Queue | Request

With the Australian GP knocking on the door Melbourne filled up with tourists and fans even more than usual. The first time I got to witness it in 2017 was actually scary in a way for someone who didn’t know the city well yet. Getting from one part of the city to another was a hard task already, and all the shouting and crazy fans weren’t of much help when I tried to get some usable info out of them so I could finally get to my destination and get off the streets. It almost held me back from choosing Melbourne’s university, but I had to remind myself that it was just once a year and I shouldn't give up my plans because of it. Melbourne was beautiful and their schools were highly rated, giving me everything for a stable future. Luckily I was never disappointed by my choices as it was easy to get used to the life here and I even found some new friends who helped me every time I felt homesick. It wasn’t the worst usually, as I was truly content with how my life was going, but sometimes it just hit me out of nowhere and in those moments they were always there for me.

It was now the third year when we lived through the race weekend, meaning we finally had a working schedule with which we still followed our usual plans but stayed out of the bigger crowds. Although we were in the middle of the semester we always found time to enjoy the still warm weather and spend most of our free time outside. Usually our choice was the beach for the afternoons as even though it was packed until noon, the tourists never stayed for long. We usually arrived in the late afternoon and stayed well after the sun went down, and the temperature went down a little finally. The water usually stayed comfortable until later in the evening making it bearable for almost a whole 24 hours if you weren’t squeamish. Even if you were after spending a few weeks at the beach, everyone got used to it.

As soon as everyone finished with their lectures we got our things together and took the 5 minutes walk down to the beach. We had a favourite spot which was luckily never taken when we got down there. For a few minutes we just sat down, talking about our weeks. I shared a dorm room with two other girls, but we had a few friends who had their own apartments or lived with their family a bit farther away from our university. We usually had one or two days every week to catch up with them as in between lectures we were either too tired or didn’t have the time to do so. But most of the afternoons were ours fully and we used it the best we could to relax but still use that time to make memories for the few years we’re spending together. We could say it’s gonna stay the same after we graduate but everyone knew we would move to different countries as soon as we weren’t connected to Australia. Even I planned to go home, although I enjoyed living here and getting to be independent without my family behind my back.

“ Are you coming? ” One of the girls asked me, as they were already walking down to the water, while I was still standing around our towels with my phone in my hand. I was in the middle debating which sunset photo I should post from my gallery, but her voice made me look up.

“ Just a second. I’ll catch up. ” I smiled at her before looking back down at my screen. In the end my finger finally tapped the posting button and I pushed it aside while I got the sundress off that was on over my bikini.

Right before I would have ran after the girls, the device was back in my hands so I could check that the picture uploaded without a problem. A smile got on my face when I saw a reaction from one of my family members but as soon as it showed the whole list of the people who looked at my story, it faded away. For the past few months whenever I posted something he was always there in the first few seconds or at least minutes. I couldn’t understand what changed that he showed up in my life again, but I didn't really want to give him space in my thoughts either. It has been almost 4 years since we last talked and could call each other best friends, but I wasn’t about to take the first step and message him after he forgot about me until now. I just dropped my phone back into my bag, closing it and then caught up with my friends so they could make me forget about him again.

We spent quite some time in the water, swimming a few laps back and forth before just standing around and enjoying the last rays of sunshine while we chatted away. My thoughts were already in a different direction thanks to all the different topics that came up between us. Sometimes it was harder to make me forget time and time again, but turns out today I only needed some distraction and everything was set for an enjoyable night. With the sun completely off the sky the temperature dropped quickly and it was getting a bit chilly  for my liking in just a few minutes. When it was truly uncomfortable I gave up and walked back to the shore, sitting down on my own blanket and draping my towel around my shoulders. It immediately brought enough warmth over my body that I stopped shivering and could wait for them until they would get cold too. Until then I just went onto my phone to go through some posts of my friends. Sometimes I looked up to check on them just so they wouldn’t leave me out of something. One of those times I saw a person coming my way and although I didn’t mind too much attention to it, when he continued and there was no one else in my close proximity I felt like he might be coming to me. In the end I was right as he turned right towards me and then stopped just a few steps away from our blankets.

“ Never thought you would exchange our lovely and perfect red stars for ugly white ones. ” He spoke up and I could recognise the voice even though his face was almost unseeable thanks to him standing with his back towards the moon. My jaw dropped immediately and I felt like I grew roots into the ground as I couldn’t move my body. “ If you want me to fuck off, just tell me. It’s okay. I just thought we could maybe talk, and from the pictures I saw that you’re here. Hoped you didn’t go home yet so I could catch you and... ” He started rambling but I was quick to finally push myself up and hug him immediately. I always imagined our reunion with me being angry at him, but somehow I couldn’t get myself to feel that way now that he was standing right in front of me.

“ You idiot. ” I told him not leaving any space for questions and I could feel as he finally relaxed and hugged me back. “ The biggest in the whole world. ” I added with a sigh, closing my eyes as my brain started functioning again and I had an urge to kick his shin at least.

“ I can live with that. ” Marcus let out a laugh and I could feel as my heart jumped a little at the sound. It was something that always reminded me of our home and spending every possible second together. “ I’m sorry for disappearing. ” He let out a sigh, letting go of me only when we realised my wet bathing suit soaked his shirt, although even he didn’t care about it for too long.

“ What are you doing here? I thought F2 wasn't coming here. ” I asked him confused, knowing that we wouldn’t be in this situation if he traveled here for one of the races in the past two years. “ Not like I’m complaining, but I can hardly believe my own eyes and senses. ” I shook my head a little before looking up at him again. He changed, quite a bit since we last met and even though I saw pictures of him it was different in a face-to-face situation.

“ Ferrari invited a few of us so we could gather some experience. The speed I accepted the offer with might have raised some eyebrows. ” Marcus hid his face in his palm, making me chuckle as I could see the situation unfold in front of my eyes like I was there. “ Thought I would DM you and ask if you wanted to meet up maybe. But I realized it would be better offline. ” I had to roll my eyes at his first idea although I knew he wasn’t lying and it for sure went through his brain as a real possibility.

“ You’re lucky you didn’t. I would have blocked you forever I think. My plan was connecting my fist with your face if we ever meet again, right until you showed up here. ” I shook my head with a smile, as I wasn’t proud of what I wanted to do to him. “ I was really angry when you just stopped talking to me. I tried so hard to reach you, but it felt like you didn’t even exist anymore even though they were talking about you almost every week. ” I sighed, sitting back down and leaving enough space for him too.

“ Would have been deserved actually. ” His fingers scratched at the nape of his neck and I could see the tint of purple traveling up his neck. I watched him as he sat down, pulling his legs up and resting his arms onto them. “ I really am sorry. For a part everything got busy with all the training, races and studying, but at the same time I know damn well a message here and there should have been possible. I messed up, everything. ” His eyes shined even in the minimal light of the moon, and I could get myself to look away. Even feeling the burning stares on my back from my friends didn’t get me to turn around.

“ I won’t say that it’s okay, but I accept your apology. How could I not. ” I let out a breath that I realized was still stuck in me since the initial surprise took over my body. “ It feels like we didn’t even skip over like 3 years of each other’s life. Only difference is that you’re finally taller than me, but the baby face’s still there. ” My hand went up to his cheek to pat it gently like my grandma did for him all the time when he came over for lunch. He always hated it but knew that it was a gesture of love from her and a way to show Marcus that she considered him part of our family.

“ Yeah, I guess it’s going to stay forever. ” Marcus huffed, moving his head back a little to avoid my attack, although he failed miserably. “ I almost forgot, congrats for uni. I remember how hard you were studying to get in. Everyone home was ecstatic when I told them about it. ” His hand slapped his forehead, making me laugh with his expression at the slight stinging he caused himself.

“ Thank you, but it’s nothing compared to your second place last year. ” I shrugged a little but as soon as his lips pulled into a slight smirk my eyes rolled on their own. “ Surprise, surprise, I followed your career. Just as much as you followed my life for the past few months. ” I poked him in the ribs with my finger, making him wince for a second before we both started laughing at the little sound he made.

“ Fair. I still hate how Instagram shows who opened your stories. ” He shook his head a little and both of our heads turned towards the water when we realized the background chatting was getting closer and closer to where we were sitting. They were just a few meters away when my eyes landed on their figures and I sensed when Marcus stood up from next to me, making me push myself up too.

I didn’t feel too anxious about him meeting my other friends, although I knew what this meant for my evening at the dorm with them. They would have an immense amount of questions both about him and us, even though I already mentioned him when we were bringing up our past. A few of them even knew about my past feelings about him and how him reappearing on my socials played with my emotions, but they only saw a few photos of him. This was another level and I knew he would be the topic for at least the next week between us, for one reason or another. Depends on how we get on from this point and if we manage to keep in contact when they have to fly away again.

“ Oh, I knew it wasn’t just my imagination. I told you someone was coming here. ” My roommate spoke up as soon as they got close enough to make us out from the darkness. “ You’re Marcus, right? ” She stepped right in front of him, reaching her hand out while introducing herself. I always admired her boldness even in front of strangers.

“ Yes, although I didn’t know so many people knew me from here. ” Marcus let out an uneasy chuckle, looking at me a bit concerned. I just shook my head dismissively, almost telling him that it was just a ‘Girl group’ thing. Relief washed over me though that I didn’t share a lot about him, behind his back.

I watched from the sideline as everyone introduced themselves to him and for a second it felt domestic as all of them shot me a concerned glance towards me. It felt like they would pounce at him if they saw that I was uncomfortable in his presence. While it made me feel loved in a way, I also didn’t want them to really chip on the situation. It was something that better dealt with in private as I felt like we had to talk lots of things through to get back to the friendship we left behind years ago. This wasn’t the setting for a conversation like that.

“ We should probably get home before it gets really late. School won’t wait in the morning. ” I spoke up before any of them could start questioning him. We would never be able to get going then. “ Maybe we can catch up sometime before the race? I’m sure you will have enough to do during the weekend. ” I turned back towards Marcus who looked just as relieved as I did seconds ago.

“ Yeah, that would be better. Maybe lunch, or a coffee in the afternoon? Whenever you’re free of course. ” He nodded a little, still glancing at the girls who were either packing up or staring him down behind me.

“ I’m up for either of those. Surprise me. ” I grinned at him, feeling the pull on my arm when everyone was ready. “ Is your number the same? ” I asked him, already taking a step back, but waiting for his answers.

“ Yes. Never changed. ” Marcus nodded again, a little smile playing on his lips at the idea that we’re going to meet up again probably. At least I hoped so. Why else would he stalk me down and come up to me for a chat?

“ I’m gonna text you in the morning when’s my last lecture. We can meet up after that. ” I told them, before turning around with one last wave and catching up to my group. I could only hope that they would at least let me sleep before the questions start pouring out of them all at once.

#marcus armstrong #marcus armstrong fanfiction #marcus armstrong oneshot #marcus armstrong imagine #marcus armstrong fanfic #marcus armstrong ff #f2 #formula 2 #f2 fanfiction #f2 fanfic #f2 ff #f2 oneshot #f2 imagine #formula 2 fanfiction #formula 2 fanfic #formula 2 ff #formula 2 oneshot #formula 2 imagine #fda #ferrari driver academy #bydonaidk #requested fanfiction #requested

[nanoland]

mazikeen/eve/michael fic in progress

title: Ponder on the Narrow House

fandom: Lucifer

characters: Mazikeen, Eve, Michael 

blurb: In which Mazikeen isn't finished with Michael yet. 

warnings: Spoilers for Season 5. 

0  

In 2019, Fodor’s had crowned LAX the worst airport on Planet Earth, comparing it – much to Mazikeen’s amusement – to Dante Alighieri’s Hell.

She couldn’t comment on the comparison’s accuracy; she’d never read Divina Comedia. Human poetry bored her.

Up against the real thing, however? Hell was quieter, cleaner, and smelt better than Los Angeles International, and it wasn’t even close.

Granted, Mazikeen was biased. Hell was her home and she liked it quite a lot. But surely even a human – even an angel – would sooner take a stint in one of Lucifer’s loops than spend more than thirty minutes in Terminal 3.

Yet there he was, leaning against the wall, watching the bustling crowd with a faint smile on his face, like a man in the park resting his eyes on the ducks. Perfectly content.

“Do you know,” he said as she approached him, “that around forty percent of all humans are scared of flying?”

She hadn’t been sure how this encounter would go and, being innately practical, had dressed accordingly. Black satin skirt, flattering and loose enough to both conceal several demon daggers (invisible to the full-body scanner she’d just sauntered through) and not impede her reaction time in a fight. Red silk wrap blouse, easily unwrapped to serve as a garrotte or tourniquet. Hair down, curled, dyed pitch black with bronze-gold streaks – possibly a tactical disadvantage if he grabbed it, but possibly a distraction. She knew he liked her hair.

When she was satisfied he wasn’t about to lunge for her throat, she took a gamble and moved in to lean against the wall alongside him, following his gaze. “Not surprising. Think of it from their perspective. They don’t have wings. Actually – huh. I guess that’s a perspective you can sympathise with now.”

He sneered. “You’re trying to bait me, Miss Mazikeen. That’s cute. But I’m not in the mood, dollface. This? This is me time. I’ve had a shitty few days and I came here specifically to soak up these idiot mortals’ fear and chill out. Get lost. Go play with my twin if you’re so starved for entertainment.”

Mazikeen stretched. “That’s the problem. He’s hanging out with the rest of your lousy family. Gabriel. Raziel. Jophiel. Now that he’s in charge, they’re all trying to crawl up his ass. It’s pathetic. And annoying.”

His jaw clenched and she knew exactly what he was thinking: ‘That should have been me.’

“Also,” she added, after a pause, “they don’t like me. Most of them have never met a demon. There’s no outright hostility but… they talk to me like I’m some gross exotic pet Lucifer found and adopted.”

“They’re afraid of you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nope. I’m wrong about some things. Never about fear. They can tell how much you matter to him, how much he’d do for you and vis versa, and it scares them shitless. Chloe Decker they can understand – she was Dad’s gift, after all. You, though? Lucy was never supposed to love you. No one was.”

She fiddled with her earring; big, gold, shaped like a swallow with rubies dotting its tail feathers. A gift from Eve. “Whatever. Anyway, that’s why I’m here. With you. Instead of them. You’re the worst, most obnoxious, most cowardly creep ever. I mean it. Christ, do you suck. But you always talked to me like I was a person. Right from the beginning.”

Ugliness flared behind his eyes. “Seriously? Now you’re being nice? Lucifer sent his general to console me? Ha! That’s how pitiful he thinks I am?”

“Pfft – no. Lucifer doesn’t give a crap about you. I’m here because I wanna offer you a job, moron.”

“A… job.”

“Yep. Ever heard of ‘bounty-hunting’?”

He nodded. Slowly. Smirking, she pushed off the wall and twirled on her six-inch heels to face him.

“Here’s the thing, o Angel of Dread; I’ve spent centuries in Hell learning how to terrify people. I look at you and you know what I see? Potential. Sure, you’re rough around the edges. Still got some celestial baby fat clinging to you. Still a little squeamish when it comes to certain tricks of the trade. But Mikey, honey, six months under my tutelage and I think we can turn you into a bona fide fucking nightmare.”

She let the skin on her face’s left side melt away and grinned at him. “So? How about it?”

“Eh,” he said after taking one last glance around the terminal. “Fuck it. Why not? Nothing better to do.” 

0 

“Los Angeles is kinda like me,” Mazikeen told him, taking off her red-lensed cat-eye sunglasses as she strutted down the pier.

“Doesn’t have a soul?”

A withering glare. “Tough. Pretty on the outside, mean on the inside. It’s easy to make enemies around here and when you’ve made ‘em, you need to stay on your toes. Stay nimble. Stay mobile. Ready to fight or flee at any moment.”

Michael nodded. “And that’s how you justify living on a tugboat.”

“Ahoy!” called Eve, standing on the deck in a polka dot bikini and pirate hat Mazikeen had presumably stolen for her off the set of some summer blockbuster or other being shot nearby, the salty breeze playing with her hair.

“It’s a yacht,” Mazikeen growled.

“No. That’s a yacht,” Michael replied, pointing to the gleaming white MCY 70 Skylounge docked nearby. “What you have is a glorified raft that can, at best, accommodate two people and maybe a toaster.”

He should, perhaps, be trying harder to ingratiate himself with his new boss.

But he was tired.

Getting in his face, she snapped, “Hey! That’s our headquarters, asshole. Show some respect.”

“It’s covered in seagull crap. It looks older than me. There’s a very obvious bloodstain on the helm. Jesus, doesn’t Lucifer pay you?”

She pushed him into the sea.

Offering him a hand when he bobbed to the surface, Eve said, “Don’t take it personally. She’s just mad because we weren’t able to steal a bigger one.” 

0 

It was while Michael was towelling himself dry down below decks that the chunky-faced cop wandered in, took one look at him, and strode across the room.

“Mister Espinoza,” he drawled, “what can I-… oh. Oh, wow, you really thought that was going to work, huh?”

Curled up on the floor, clutching the fist he’d very mistakenly slammed into Michael’s jaw, Dan hissed, “Fuck you. You killed me.”

“Poppycock. I had you killed. That’s entirely different, buddy.”

Dan staggered to his feet and shouted, “Maze! Eve! What the hell is he doing here?”

Taking off his wet jacket and draping it over the rack alongside the towel, Michael said, “I was invited, thank you very much. No one told me you were part of the arrangement.”

“What arrangement, asshole?” Dan snapped, turning red. “I’m just here to help Maze fix her boat’s engine.”

“Oh. You don’t work with her, then? No, I suppose you wouldn’t. As we’ve established, you’re entirely too killable.”

“You sleazy son-of-a… Maze! Get down here!”

Grumbling, Michael’s new boss stalked below deck carrying a crate of beer on her left shoulder and a sleeping bag under her right arm. “Goddammit – Dan, I told you to wait. Is your hand bleeding, you big meathead? We seriously just dragged your ass out of Hell and you couldn’t go two whole days before breaking yourself again? Ugh. You’re impossible. You’re worse than Decker.”

“Maze, d’you wanna explain what the actual fuck Lucifer’s psycho twin is doing here?”

“Interning,” Michael said, cheerfully.

His face now practically purple, Dan half-yelled, “What is he talking about? This is not okay, Maze! Does Chloe know? Does Amenadiel? Why is he even still on Earth? Lucifer’s God now; can’t he stick him on Mars or turn him into a bug or something?”

“Look, Dan, just calm down-…” she began.

“I died! I actually, literally, physically died! Because of him! No, I’m not going to calm down!”

Michael scoffed. “Please. Like that’s what you’re really upset about. You’re not angry about dying. You’re not angry at all. You’re scared, buttercup. And not just of me; of her, of Lucifer, of everything, and to be honest, I didn’t even need to use the ol’ angel juice to work that out.”

Mazikeen set down her cargo, pulled a knife from her belt, and flung it. It embedded itself five inches deep in the floor between them. “This? This is not Lux, dickheads. Mortals and celestials don’t hang out here to have a good time while I sit behind the bar and tolerate them. This crummy, crusty-ass, piece of crap boat is my domain. Here, I don’t have to put up with one femtometre of your bullshit. If you want to fight, do it somewhere else. If you want to fuck, do it quick and clean up afterwards. If you want to make yourselves useful, help me get the weapons on board.”

“Wait – wait, weapons? What weapons?” said Dan to her retreating back. “You said you were going fishing. Maze! What weapons?” 

0

“Where’s all your stuff?” Eve asked when she showed him to his tiny cabin.

“I’m an archangel. I don’t have ‘stuff’.”

(Michael had already decided he didn’t like her. She was bubbly.)

“Heh. You should travel with Lucy sometime. We went to Vancouver for a weekend and he brought seven bags, five watches, and six pairs of shoes. Okay, do you – uh, do you at least have a change of clothes? Because those look kinda soggy.”

To his annoyance – and embarrassment – she spend twenty minutes hunting down a shirt and pants that would fit him.

“They’re mine,” she said, dropping them into his lap. “But I bought them to sleep in and I like loose pyjamas, so they’re a dozen sizes too big on me. Oh! Also found you this.”

She presented a hot water bottle in the shape of a fat, cuddly sheep.

He accepted it carefully, wondering if it was booby-trapped. “You’re Lucifer’s ex, right?”

“Er… yep? Amongst other things. The Original Sinner. First Woman, First Wife, First Mother. Mother of Mankind. Second Human. First Knowledgeable Human. But sure, I was also your brother’s girlfriend for a while.”

“And now you’re Mazikeen’s. Do you also work with her?”

“Sure do!” she said, interpreting the question as an invitation to sit down next to him. “I’m The Choronzon’s captain. That’s our boat’s name. My idea. I know she’s not much to look at but she’s got so much history. There’ve been fourteen homicides on her! Plus, she’s fast; way, way faster than she looks. And I know the beds are hard, but we’ve got three hammocks stashed away and getting them set up is easy as pie.”

“Wow. Those suckers up in the Silver City don’t know what they’re missing.”

She nodded, blinking slowly. “Hmm. Maze was right. You are mean. That’s cool. I get on well with mean people. Anyway, just in case she hasn’t told you; we’ve got a job lined up and we’ll be setting sail tomorrow at dawn. You get seasick? Not a problem; we’ve got a medical kit full of antiemetics. On that note, should we pick up something for you before we leave shore?”

“No.”

“You sure? Just that – uh – I mean, my third son, Seth, the one nobody talks about – he also had pretty severe scoliosis. Wasn’t a whole lot we could do about it back then. But these days they’ve got tons of stuff; opiods and anti-inflammatories and memory foam. Science is so, so cool. And I’m going shopping for sunscreen anyway, so dropping by the pharmacy wouldn’t be a problem.”

For a moment, he reviewed a list of responses that would deeply, profoundly hurt her, responses that would ensure she didn’t approach him again.

But he was tired, tired, tired.

“Here.”

He took a folded piece of A4 paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “These are what the last human doctor I went to recommended. Getting hold of those three I’ve circled is tricky, but I know a guy. Call him on that number down there and he’ll meet you wherever. If he gives you any trouble, remind him that Michael knows about the vacuum cleaner. That’ll shut him up.”

As soon as she’d bounced out of the room, he shut the door, locked it, and laid down to sleep. 

0

It was night when he awoke.  

He went upstairs to find Mazikeen and Eve sitting on the deck, admiring what stars could be seen through Los Angeles’ perpetual light pollution and sharing a pizza.

“Mickey! Get over here,” called Mazikeen, clad in a black dressing down and slippers shaped like plump pink pigs.

“It’s freezing,” he complained.

She snickered and threw him the prickly blanket that had been resting over her knees. “Wimp. Eve told you about the job, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to use any weapons?” Eve asked. “Maze sticks with her knives most of the time. I prefer my traps and crossbow. But we’ve got guns, if that’s more your speed.”

They were clearly expecting him to sit down. Eve had even scooted to the left to make room.

He opened the blanket up and wrapped it around his shoulders, remaining standing. “Can I ask a question? What, precisely, is my role here?”

“For now, you’re a meat shield,” said Mazikeen, talking through a mouthful of pepperoni and violently yellow cheese. “Me and Eve are both vulnerable to bullets. I mean – I’m less vulnerable, obviously. But I don’t hate any of my relatives enough to go about finding out exactly how many bullets it takes to snuff a demon. So your job, at least tomorrow, is just to soak up enemy fire until we’ve got our hands on the target.”

Scowling, he said, “Getting shot does hurt, you know.”

“Yeah,” she replied, eyes shining with spite. “Dan sure seemed to think so.”

When the tense silence had stretched for over thirty seconds, Eve clapped her hands, smiling anxiously, and said, “So! Anyone up for rummy?”

(to be continued) 

#mazikeen #eve #michael demiurgos #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #fanfic #my fic #evezikeen

[bit-of-a-fuqboi]

Title: Running the bases

Steve was both shocked and annoyed when it was announced Billy had quit the basketball team to join the baseball team. Steve admits, reluctantly, that his annoyance has as much to do with not being able to creep on him anymore, as it has to do with the fact that their best chance of a championship is with him on their team. His shock was simply because, well, Billy had the kind of skills that made other guys envious. He was an amazing player. The kind to win championships. Real scholarship material. It just confused Steve to no end why he would throw that away.

It turned out he didn't. Word got around quickly that Billy's skill on the field was as good, if not better, as it was on the court. And Steve, well, Steve felt his annoyance only grow. Is there anything he can't do! Steve found himself silently fuming as he angrily chewed on his sandwich. 

The sudden sound of laughter, and many stomping feet, interrupted his brooding. He looks up and sees Billy for the first time since he quit—and he’s completely geared up from head to toe in the school's green and white baseball uniform.

The uniform clings to every single contour of muscle you can imagine. He struts through the quad like he owns it, and with each step Steve is hypnotized by the bulge of his biceps through the fabric and the pop of both of his pecs in his shirt. A shirt that is tucked into the tightest, sexiest pair of baseball knickers complete with green belt and green piping down the sides. His socks hug two thick, muscular calves, and he’s got on the green and white cleats. He even has on his green cap, and the dabbed eye black across the tops of his cheeks is smeared from practice. Whoa.

"You might want to pick your jaw up from the floor Harrington, you look like your about to start drooling"

Shaken from his stupor he turns to see a girl he doesn't know smirking at him, she looks familiar though… maybe we have a class together?

"No It's not! I'm not… It's not… I mean … I don't know what you mean" Yeah that's not suspicious. Great save Harrington.

"Whatever dingus" She says with a snort and walks off. Steve is sure he hears her mutter "I don't know what they see in you" as she walks away.

With a feeling, almost like panic, creeping in, Steve has a very sudden urge to escape the area before anyone else notices his weirdness. Throwing his half eaten sandwich in the bin he makes a beeline for the school.

He makes it halfway down the first corridor before he is suddenly shoved into a storage closet.

"What the actual fuck!" Steve likes to think he yelled, but suspects he screamed. High pitched and embarrassing. Fuck! Could this day get any worse.

The light switches on, and he's temporarily blinded by the brightness but as soon as his eyes adjust he's greeted by grinning Billy Hargrove. Yep, it just got worse.

"Miss me Harrington" he asks.

"Like the clap" Steve answers automatically, regretting it immediately. Steve was certain that he just escalated the situation to a fist fight, a fist fight in a small enclosed space where he is not likely to come out on top, but instead Billy just laughs. 

"I saw you checking out the new uniform." At the reminder Steve can't stop his eyes from trailing up Billy's body, but when he reaches his face he is met with an intense glare. Billy's arms are crossed and he looks about nine feet tall from Steve's corner of the closet. All those muscles... His shoulders are so broad they actually block the exit. There is no escape. Fuck! He's going to kill me, either literally or from sexual frustration, both are very real options at this point.

"So what do ya think pretty boy? Think I'll be able to slide home with how wet I'll be making the chicks at this school?" He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. No, instead he has that same invasive, hypnotizing look. The one that seems to see right through him.

To his horror Steve realises he's not scared in the least by how Billy’s looking at him. Instead, it's worse, he's turned on. Turned on by the strange intensity in Billy's eyes, by the bulges his biceps make when his arms are folded in that tight uniform, and that he could break him in half with little effort. 

"So gross dude" Steve answers, all the while silently panicking as he feels pre-cum beginning to leak and soak through his fast tightening underwear.

Billy's eyes draw down Steve's body appraisingly. He licks his lips—naturally reminding Steve that they are very much still there, and very much still plush and kissable as ever—and says "So, you ever feel up a baseball player?"

Steve freezes. He’s no longer blinking. His mouth can’t close. Steve waits for Billy to laugh it off, or maybe mock him some more but instead he takes a step closer.

Slowly, Billy brings a finger to the collar of Steve's shirt and hooks it inside. "C’mon, Harrington." Then he gives it a tug, the top button coming undone with surprising ease. "Tell me you aren't curious to know what's been driving these bitches crazy. It’s the stuff of legends, man." Steve's heart hammers away. His knees quake. "Half the writing on the bathroom walls is about what I’m packing.” Billy pops another button."Go ahead,” he coaxes, his voice silky smooth and languid, “Touch me.”

Time seemed to slow down and the world around them became blurred and unfocused. All that existed in that moment was them.They stared at each other in silence; the only sound in the closet was their ragged breathing. 

Steve made the decision, refusing to overthink, and reached out and ran his hands across Billy’s flat, muscular stomach. He was fascinated by the warm radiating through Billy's uniform. His fingers traced the hard muscles before moving to Billy’s hips. He took a moment to rub his palms over the belt, before slowly moving his hands around to the dimples of his ass in those tight pants.

It’s not lost on Steve that Billy's crotch is bulging dramatically. Holy shit; he’s getting off on this weird as fuck scenario too.

“Like how my ass feels Harrington?” he asks. 

“Yes” Steve chokes out.

“Unbuckle me.” 

Steve's didn't have to be told twice. His fingers fumble with the belt, hands shaking with excitement. Next comes the button of his pants and then the zipper, which slowly parts the dirt covered white sea of fabric to reveal his thick, hard cock enclosed in a white jock. Steve groaned at the sight. Why the fuck is he not wearing briefs? Steve looks up and Billy just cocks an eyebrow and smirks. Steve could feel his racing heartbeat pulsing in his ears. Why am I even questioning this?

Steve wraps his hand around Billy and starts to palm him through the flimsy underwear. Billy takes a shaky breath, but doesn’t do anything else. Challenge accepted motherfucker! Steve tightens his grip and picks up his pace.  

At first Billy just smiles smugly, then his breathing begins to get heavier. After a minute he’s practically panting. Steve smirks “Out of breath already Hargrove? How are you going to make it around all the bases with stamina like this?”   

Without warning Billy grasps Steve's shirt, pulls his face to his and fucking devours his mouth. Steve felt like he was just a piece of meat, a toy for Billy's own personal use. That really shouldn’t be hot. Steve realises he's now practically clawing Billy's back as Billy's reaches around to cup his ass. They’re both moaning into each other's mouth as their hips press firmly together. 

The sound of the bell ringing brings reality crashing down on Steve. It’s the middle of the day and they are on school grounds. Anyone could catch them. 

Steve breaks away from Billy and says “C’mon we need to head to class. Lunch is over. I can’t be late to biology, Mr Greene will have my ass.”

“But I want to have that ass.” Billy says as he squeezes Steve's ass cheeks. 

Steve wavers for a moment, but then Billy says "It's not like you were going to contribute, or even pay attention"

What the fuck! Steve pulls completely away and scowls. "Fuck you Hargrove"

Billy lifts an eyebrow. “Did I strike a nerve? It's not like you're known for your scholastic aptitude. I was just saying there's a better use of your time”

Steve ignores him, and buttons up his shirt.

"I really didn't mean anything by it." Billy says.

Steve just glares and shoves his way towards the door. Annoyingly the shoulder charge hurt him more than the wall of muscle previously blocking the exit.

"C'mon Harrington we didn't even get to third base" Billy jokes. 

Steve rolls his eyes, unimpressed with Billy's lame attempt to lighten the mood. Of course Billy refuses to give up. “You have a great grip, by the way.” 

"Wasn’t much to grip,” Steve shoots back. Billy grins. 

“Maybe you need another grip to remind yourself, pretty boy. I doubt you can wrap your whole hand around it.”

Steve stops with the door half open and turns to Billy. "You know, for a moment there, I almost forgot you were an asshole."

"Steve—"

"I don't want to hear it. This will never happen again" Steve says, then turns to leave. As he walks away however all he could think was "I really want it to happen again"

As he rounded the corner, Billy yells "This ain't finished Harrington.", and Steve shivers as his pulse spikes from excitement. Maybe I really am an idiot because there was no doubt it wasn't.

This was only meant to be a short thing but it got a little out of control lol The fic was inspired by someone post about a baseball au headcannon. I cannot for the life of me locate the post, if you know it please tell me and I will link.

#billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #steve x billy #harringrove au #fan fiction #six sentence sunday #it got out of control #steve harrington x billy hargrove #harringrove headcanons #harringrove baseball au

[aliciameade]

Head-First - Ch. 1

Title: Head-First Author: aliciameade Rating: M (eventually...) Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary:  They’re lifeguards.

Also on AO3 & FFN

Beca isn’t the biggest fan of the sun. Or heat. Or sand. Or the outdoors, really, in general.

She muses over her situation while her eyes scan the shoreline and the rolling waves. Her whistle remains perpetually hanging from the corner of her mouth; she has to use it often. Teenage boys (and adult men, Beca thinks with disdain), are too often getting into trouble. They like to amp each other up, dare one another to prove how much of a man they are by doing things like seeing who can swim out the farthest, stay underwater the longest, and, in what is a very real risk, jump off the jetty that extends far into the ocean. It’s made of sharp, uneven rocks and is very clearly marked as off-limits.

Not that that stops the biggest idiots.

The fact that it extends some one hundred feet creates the assumption that the water at the end of it is sufficiently deep enough for diving. In reality, it’s no deeper there than it is ten feet from shore. She can still remember last summer when she had to trade off doing chest compressions on a seventeen-year-old male who dove in and nearly broke his neck with one of her fellow guards right there on the beach while they waited for the emergency vehicle.

He’d survived, and last she heard, he was up and walking again, but had gone through extensive surgeries and physical therapy to accomplish it. He’d later admitted he’d been dared to do it. The intended spoils? A case of Heineken.

It haunts her despite his recovery. The blood. The lifelessness. The blue of his lips. The crack of his sternum beneath her hands. She’d never had to do CPR on a real person before that day. Her training had taught her it wasn’t uncommon to happen, but she would never be able to erase that sound from her memory.

But he’d survived. She’d helped save someone’s life because her best friend talked her into taking the lifeguard test with the Parks and Recreation Department so they could have “sexy summer jobs that will let us meet all the hotties and get killer tans,” as Stacie had put it.

To her legitimate astonishment, she’d passed the test and went through the training program to come out a certified lifeguard. It seemed the clumsiness she’d experienced on land her entire life whenever she attempted some kind of sport didn’t exist in the water. She’d been one of the fastest swimmers in their recruitment class; it made her regret not having discovered the talent earlier.  She could have been a star on her high school’s swim team.

However, the concept of participating in organized athletics makes her want to vomit. So, that never would have happened.

Instead, she’s assigned to Tower 137 where she spends eight hours per day Wednesday through Sunday every summer for the past three years. Stacie had ended up assigned to 145, a solid mile down the coastline. It’s far enough that they can’t socialize beyond seeing each other at the top and bottom of their shifts in the station.

Given the circumstances, she figures that’s for the best.

When Stacie knows Beca has a crush, she can be insufferable. And four weeks ago, Beca made the fatal error of implying she found the newly assigned guard at 138 attractive. Their schedules are all the same and more than once, Beca’s had to change into her two-piece uniform standing next to 138, whose locker is, naturally, right next to Beca’s 137.

Since then, Beca’s made it a point to beat Stacie in and out of the locker room to avoid anything inappropriate her friend might want to try (something involving leering or really inappropriate comments, she assumes). It’s easy to do since Beca’s tower is much closer to the station.

Realizing she’s daydreaming instead of doing her job, she quickly scans the beach looking for the troublemakers she’s kept an eye on all day; they’d been drinking and she suspects they’re underage based on the enthusiasm of said drinking and though she hasn’t seen it, the distinct smell of marijuana has drifted from their area more than once. She’s not there to be law enforcement, but she does wish they’d make smarter choices. A beach rife with rip currents isn’t the best place to get drunk and high and then try to swim.

The group is gone from their homestead of towels, coolers, and umbrellas and she sits up on alert to squint through her sunglasses to locate them, and she knows exactly where to look.

She counts five heads bobbing in the water along the jetty; their group is seven and furtively, she waits for the other two to appear. When they do, it’s not in the water but atop the jetty, hopping from rock to rock, tottering dangerously off-balance with each landing.

She chirps her whistle once to get their attention. It goes ignored and she hears 138 do the same a few seconds later. 138 is on the opposite side of the jetty mirroring Beca’s stand. They’re both watching the situation and the boys who are ignoring them in favor of showing off for their buddies or girls on the beach. “Don’t do it. Don’t you dare fucking do it.”

She whistles again, twice this time, and signals with her hand to confirm 138 is indeed watching the same thing and she squints across the short distance and hears the reply whistles and matching hand signal.

The whistles aren’t doing a thing to stop the boys who’ve made it all the way to the end of the jetty. They’re acting like they’re ready to dive, arms windmilling about like they’re trying to be Michael Phelps.

“Shit,” she says, whipping off her sunglasses to drop them on her chair as she climbs down.

She hears 138’s three whistles and echoes them; they’re both out of their towers and heading into the water. She grabs one of the rescue cans waiting upright in the sand and throws the strap over her head as she starts running, having to weave around sunbathers oblivious to what’s about to happen.

She dives over the wave that rolls in once the water’s thigh-high and drops the float, towing it behind her as she swims out to sea. She’s made it half the length of the jetty when she sees one of them dive.

Fear slices through her, the trauma of last year roaring back to life, and then she’s on autopilot. Pulling and propelling herself forward. Past the boy’s friends who have yet to notice their buddy hasn’t surfaced. Past the end of the jetty where she’d seen him jump. She takes a breath and then dives down, struggling to see in the murky water. But then she finds him, unconscious, hovering just above the sea floor.

She kicks until she reaches him and it’s not until she has her arms under his that she realizes how big he is. It won’t be an issue to get him to the surface, but it will be a challenge to get him to shore.

She grabs him and pushes off the bottom, lifting him with ease until both their heads are above water.

“Can you hear me?” she asks as she begins kicking them back toward shore. She doesn’t expect a response and doesn’t receive one. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Stay with me, buddy.” She kicks harder and then a splash behind her gets her attention. She twists to look and sees another bright red can floating a few feet ahead.

“I’ll tow you in! Come on!”

She sees 138 on the other end, already turning to swim to shore and Beca adjusts the victim, shoving her own float under his heavy arms before throwing her hand out to catch the back of 138’s.

She kicks to help and once they’re shallow enough starts pushing along the bottom.

“Okay, I got his left. Ready?”

She looks up to see 138 crouching to get a hold of the young man and Beca gets her feet back under her to do the same. “Ready.”

They rush him to shore to lower him to the sand once out of the water’s reach.

Together, they run through First Aid procedures. His airway is clear, but he’s not breathing and Beca can’t find a pulse. A quick check of his eyes indicates he has likely not broken his neck; his pupils shrink in the bright sun.

“Breaths. Go!”

Beca uses the few seconds of 138 doing chest compressions to catch her own breath before it's her turn to lean down and try to breathe life back into the teenager.

She barely finishes her second exhale when he’s coughing and sputtering and rolling onto his side to vomit up seawater and beer.

She falls away, sitting hard on her ass in the sand as she watches him recover and only then takes notice of their audience. It seems half the beach is gathered around them, most of whom break out into whoops and cheers at his return to consciousness.

138 is across from her, breathing just as hard as she is, and smiles at Beca while paramedics take over.

“Beale, Mitchell. Great job.”

Beca looks up to see their superior, a tall blonde who loves her whistle a little too much for Beca’s liking, nodding down at them approvingly. She offers a hand next, pulling Beca to her feet, then 138.

“That was amazing teamwork. What do you think about putting a course together for multi-guard rescue?”

Beca’s still not quite breathing at her normal rate again and their Beach Captain is already asking her to do more work? “What do you mean, put a course together?” she says before taking another deep breath to get her heart rate to slow. “There’s a course already; I took it.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Beca glances at 138—Beale, apparently—and now that they’re not racing to save an idiot’s life, notices her attractiveness has been escalated significantly now that she’s soaking wet.

“The instructor put in her notice; comes with bonus pay and gets you off the beach two days a week.”

Beca glances at the redhead who’s looking at her much the same. She’s about to speak when she realizes they’re already communicating. How? She doesn’t know. But it feels like she can almost read her thoughts on the matter by sharing a look and they both nod.

“Okay, sure.”

“Yeah, totes. Sounds fun! Thanks, Bree!”

She can’t help but notice how not-exhausted and chipper 138 sounds after just saving a person’s life. Not that Beca’s unhappy with the outcome; she just doesn’t have the energy for it at the moment.

“I asked you not to call me that when we’re working,” their captain says through clenched teeth. 

“Oops! Sorry, Captain Posen. My bad.”

“Good. You’re both off-duty with pay for the rest of the day. Grab your gear and stop by my office and we’ll get it set up.”

The crowd is already dispersed by the time their short conversation ends. Even the emergency team is packed up and pulling out, their victim cleared and stumbling back toward their spot on the beach with the help of his friends. She accounts for all seven of them and is relieved when she remembers two had been up on the jetty ready to dive but only one had done so. Their captain is also departing, hopping into the small pickup truck with surfboards strapped to its roof to head back toward their station.

“I’m Chloe, by the way.”

Beca turns back and jumps a little at 138’s unexpected proximity. Her hands are on her hips and she’s smiling brightly and it’s all Beca can do to not let her eyes roam down over curves and water-hardened nipples and defined abs. “Beca.”

“I know.” Chloe holds out her hand for a shake and Beca accepts it and almost trips over her feet when she’s pulled in for a hug. “You were so awesome out there.”

“Um,” she stutters, feeling every square inch where their bodies are touching, most of it skin-to-skin and that which isn’t might as well be for how it feels, “thanks.”

“I’ve never had to do that before,” Chloe says as they part. Beca notices that while she’s not winded or seemingly tired, her face is flushed. “Not like that.”

Beca stoops to grab her can and starts winding up her line. “That’s a good thing.”

“Have you?” Chloe does the same and Beca wishes she had her sunglasses so she could stare at the way Chloe’s bicep flexes in the sun as she does so.

“A few times.” She’s still thinking about the boy last summer, the memories stirring up so fresh it’s as though it had just happened, that this rescue had been him, and that he hadn’t been as fortunate to get up and walk back with his friends.

“Maybe you can tell me about them some time? I’d love to hear your stories.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she answers noncommittally. She’s not sure that she really wants to revisit some of the stories, especially That One, but she doesn’t feel inclined to tell Chloe ‘no’ outright. “I’m going to go grab my stuff from my tower and head in. I guess I’ll see you...later?”

“Oh, definitely. See you later.”

~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~

Beca’s half-dressed in shorts and a bra sitting on the locker room bench when she’s startled out of her daze.

“Hoped I might see you back here.”

She looks up to see Chloe not even hesitate to pull her sports-style bikini top over her head and hang it on a hook in her locker. It’s a stark interruption after the darkness she was trying to shake when trying to figure out what to text Stacie to let her know she was finished for the day. The news of the rescue had surely made it to her by now and if the seven unread texts and two missed calls were anything to go by, Stacie was worried.

The greeting comes with a wink and Beca looks away hurriedly and back at her phone and in doing so, remembers she has yet to put on a shirt. She doesn’t reply to Stacie, and she doesn’t reply to Chloe; instead, she gets up to grab a tank top out of her bag to pull on over her head.

“I realized I don’t have your contact info or anything,” Chloe continues as if Beca’s engaged the conversation. “I mean, Bree will have it but I thought we should probably make a plan to get together.”

“What?” Beca says, looking up sharply after pulling her wet hair out of the back of her shirt.

Chloe’s legitimately nude save for the towel she has draped over her arm. She seems to lack all modesty. “We should start putting together our course right away.”

“Right,” Beca answers, focusing hard on staring at Chloe’s face.

“I’m going to take a quick rinse. Wait for me? We can go to Bree’s office together and go to my place and order pizza. I think we earned it today.”

“Bree, yeah,” Beca replies dumbly. 

Chloe responds with all Beca can describe as a happy squeak and a bounce that makes her try even harder to keep her eyes on her face and then Chloe’s around the corner and into the showers.

Beca releases the breath she didn’t realize she was holding and sinks back to the bench and finally thumbs open her phone to tap out a quick text.

“He’s okay,” she writes.

“What about you??” fires back immediately.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Smalls…”

“Boobs…” Beca replies with Stacie’s nickname in kind. “I said I’m fine. Cap is going to let us teach a course.”

“Us?”

“Me and 138.”

The words and emojis that come as a response are so lewd Beca actually clicks her phone to sleep until the messages cease. “I’m going to her place to start working on it today.”

More suggestiveness follows but Beca tolerates it; the humor is helping to dust away the darkness and anxiety that had been creeping up on her. “So don’t wait up for me. ;)” 

She mutes her phone knowing it’s about to blow up and laughs to herself. Stacie is something else when she thinks someone is going to get laid, and she wouldn’t change a thing about her.

Not that Beca’s going to get laid any time soon.

~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~

“Ham and pineapple,” Beca answers from her spot on Chloe’s couch. She’s trying to not be too obvious about looking around the place to learn more about who Chloe is. At the moment, she’s on the pizzeria’s website ordering their dinner and she squeals at Beca’s response.

“You like pineapple on your pizza!”

“Yeah, dude,” Beca says with nervous laughter thanks to the sudden outburst. “Who doesn’t?”

“Weirdos, that’s who.” Chloe says it as though the division between pineapple-on-pizza lovers and anti-pineapple-on-pizza people is a matter of political diplomacy as she finishes ordering and sets aside her computer. “Okay, thirty-to-forty minutes.”

“Cool.” She shifts and twists to face Chloe better where she sits on the opposite end of the couch. “So, I have no idea how to put a lifesaving course together. Thought I should be upfront with you about that.”

Chloe laughs and it’s filled with such amusement it’s contagious and Beca can’t help but smile. “Well,” Chloe starts after the laughter, “it looks like the course is pretty much laid out already.” She pulls the binder off the coffee table they’d been given by their boss and puts it on the empty cushion between them. She opens it and flips through the pages full of illustrations, tables, and step-by-step instructions. “Bree just needs us to teach it, not write it.”

“Wait, you call her Bree?” Beca finally asks; she’d been meaning to earlier but there hadn’t been a good moment to do so.

“Duh! She’s my best friend.”

“You’re best friends with our boss?”

“No, my best friend is our boss,” Chloe corrects. “An important distinction. We were guards together.”

“Posen’s been my captain since I started; how long have you been doing this?”

Chloe thinks about it for a few seconds. “This is my fourth year, but Bree started as a junior lifeguard so she had the jump on me and got the promotion.”

Beca doesn’t really care about when or how her boss joined the crew. “Wait, you’ve been doing this for four years?”

Chloe nods.

“How have I never seen you until this season?”

“How can you be so sure you haven’t?”

“I think I’d remember.” Beca says it without thinking and only when the words are out does she realize they are a blatant pickup line. She’d apologize if Chloe didn’t immediately break into a grin.

“I used to be up north. When Bree got reassigned to Barden Beach for this season, she brought me down with her.”

It’s a straightforward explanation that doesn’t leave any open ends for natural follow-up conversation and Beca struggles to think of something to say.

“Let’s go through the first chapter, hmm?” Chloe continues and Beca’s relieved that she’s comfortable steering the conversation.

Beca scoots over a little to see the pages better and notices Chloe doing the same. “Cool, yeah.”

“For the record,” Chloe says absently while they both scan the first page, “I’d remember if I saw you, too.”

Beca blushes so hard she feels like her face is on fire but Chloe never looks up from the binder; she is, however, wearing a very small, soft smile on her lips.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Tell me everything,” Stacie says the second Beca’s through the front door.

Beca rolls her eyes. “Nothing happened.”

“Something happened. I can tell.”

“Dude,” Beca laughs while she kicks off her slides and pulls her still-damp suit out of her bag with intent to go rinse it out in the bathroom sink and hang it to dry. “I’m serious.”

“But you’re, like, glowing.”

Beca shakes her head and makes a beeline for the bathroom.

It wasn’t not nothing that happened. They’d studied the first three chapters until Beca yawned, then Chloe yawned. They agreed to call it a night and made plans to meet up again on Friday after their shift. Chloe walked her to the door and, in parting, leaned in and kissed Beca’s cheek.

That’s all it was, but she’d lingered a second longer than necessary and her hand had squeezed Beca’s and she’d whispered, “Goodnight,” so sweetly Beca finally understood what it meant to feel butterflies.

Stacie’s already staring at her when she returns as though she hadn’t looked away the entire duration of Beca’s absence. “Tell me.”

“Nothing happened!” she says with a laugh and she knows she’s being too defensive by the way Stacie narrows her eyes and cocks an eyebrow at her. “Okay, fine: she kissed me. On the cheek! On the cheek!” she adds vehemently when Stacie leaps off the couch and barrels into her to pick her up and twirl her in a circle.

“I knew it!”

“Put me down!” she shrieks, kicking her legs to try to free herself.

Stacie returns her to the ground after another spin. “You dog.”

“Literally, no.” She dusts herself off indignantly and moves out of her reach to help herself to a beer from the fridge.

Stacie flops back onto the couch. “But you got her to kiss you.”

“I didn’t get her to do anything.” Beca tosses the bottle cap in the trash before using her foot to push Stacie’s legs off her side of the couch. “It’s not a big deal and doesn’t have to mean anything.” She’d like to think it meant something, but she doesn’t want Stacie building it up for her only for it to end in disappointment; she’s doing a fine enough job of that on her own.

“You see her at the station; she’s just super friendly.”

“Oh, I’ve seen her at the station all right,” Stacie says and it’s so dirty Beca feels like she needs a shower. “She’s never given me much more than the time of day, though. Seems her attention is usually on you.”

She hides her blush behind a swig of beer. “Shut up. It is not...is it?”

“Oh yeah,” Stacie leers at her. “I started paying attention when you told me you had a boner for her.”

“Stacie!” Beca grimaces. “Can you not? That’s gross. I don’t have a—a boner for her.”

“Well, you might not have one on you, but I know for a fact you have one in your dresser.” Stacie jerks her thumb over her shoulder toward Beca’s bedroom.

Beca pulls her knees up to her chest so she can let her face fall to them. “Remind me again why I’m friends with you?”

“Because I’m awesome.” 

When Beca flicks her eyes up she’s unsurprised to see Stacie grinning proudly. “Whatever.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll drop it for now. Tell me about your rescue today? If you want to.” Stacie’s change in topic is welcomed, especially with how casual it is.

“Yeah, I can tell you about it.” Beca lifts her head and can tell Stacie has well and true let the topic of Chloe-as-a-romantic-interest go for the time being.

~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~

To be continued...

#bechloe #bechloe fanfic #fanfic #lifeguard au #i'm writing bechloe again can you believe? #this is 100% the result of the pretty lifeguard i saw on Friday #and also #isthemusictoblame #bechloe fic

[spycethra]

Title: Sick (2/2)

Pairing: Gavin Reed x RK-900

Relationship Level: Somewhat Close Coworkers/ Gavin: In-Denial-of-Attraction/ RK-900: Fully-Attracted (But-Lost-On-How-To-Someone-As-Stubborn-As-Gavin)

Rating: Lime/Fluff

Summary: RK-900 still needs that sample for diagnosis...

[Read Part 1]

“...Thanks.” Came a weak voice of gratitude.

Even while veiled in darkness, Gavin covered his reddening face with his arms.

“It’s dark,” RK-900 said quietly.

“No shit. Figure that out all by yourself?”

The android allowed the gruffness of his partner to ride itself out. 

“Then why are you covering your face, Reed?”

“Because... I know you retrofitted yourself with those goddamn night vision lenses. That’s why, Dick.”

Richard resisted the urge to initiate the human reaction of rolling his eyes. Only Gavin could be so sensitive about the most trivial of matters. After all, darkness wasn’t a legally binding promise for privacy.

The android leaned over the back of the couch to inspect his partner more closely. His arms draped almost lazily over the side yet his fingertips burned with urges once his eyes caught a glimpse of Gavin’s bare stomach. The blanket must have shifted with his squirming…  

Still, his fingers twitched.

Shaking his head, RK-900 pulled the blanket back in place just as Gavin started coughing into his fist.

“Ahhh, fuck! I hate this! ...I want this stupid illness to be fucking gone already.”

“Reed, we still don’t know what it is that’s affecting you.”

“It’s a cold, tin can. Stop fussing over me. It’s annoying.”

Richard blinked at Gavin’s lack of yelling, as well as his gradual decrease in vulgarity.

“You must be really sick…”

The human rolled slightly to the voice in the dark. Gavin still couldn’t see him, but he could feel from the pressure against the top of the couch that RK-900 was leaning there.

“I’m fine, Richard, just… go worry about yourself, all right? I’m fine…” Gavin insisted yet it was just a bold faced lie.

In truth, he felt awful, but he hated being taken care of by an android even more. This wasn’t right. He placed his hand on his burning forehead which was coated in sweat. His insides felt like their were in a washing machine, swirling round and round to no end. And yet somehow he felt absolutely ice cold within the pit of his gut.

And that unnerved him.

Staring up into the darkness, he could hear RK-900’s footsteps as they wandered from his bedroom. Part of him sighed with relief while another basked in the emptiness that he now belonged to.

Before, he always had some lovely faced girlfriend to take care of him. She would tease him for being so tough out on the streets yet being a total baby when trapped in bed. She’d take his temperature, give him some medicine, prepare some hot soup and crackers, maybe playfully tuck him in, and then she’d lie with him until he got better.

A shuddering breath escaped his lips of the grim reality he was faced with before he covered his face again. Thoughts were cropping up that he didn’t need. That he didn’t want.

He shouldn’t have thanked it.

He should have threatened to shoot him the second he saw him through the fisheye lens of his front door. Gavin pressed his face hard with his hands.

What was RK-900? An it? A him?

RK-900 is just a fucking android. He’s not human. I don’t care who says they’re alive. He’s not… human. These things. A human is supposed to do them. Not some stupid soulless piece of machiner-

He had been so deep in his own head that he never heard him come in.

He didn’t even feel his presence against the couch.

All he felt… was a hand slowly gliding up his exposed neck, surprising him enough to remove his hands from his face and then…

A mouth had fallen on his own, decisive and persistent.

Gavin yelped with surprise but found his wrists suddenly trapped above his head while the mouth delved deeper, a mechanized tongue extending to greet his own. He arched in response from either terror or anger, he couldn’t be sure. All he could see was the dark while RK-900 could undoubtedly see his every reaction.

“Mmmnnff!” He arched in an effort to fight back but found himself more focused on doing battle with the warm tongue attempting a far too thorough cavity analysis of his mouth.

Gavin’s legs kicked out but Richard’s weight had him thoroughly pinned down. Inevitably, Gavin’s initial rush of adrenaline subsided and there was no escaping the android’s tenacious probing. But how long was this supposed to take? He felt himself trembling, jolts of something he shouldn’t be feeling were coursing his lower abdomen to places they had no right being.

Oh no. No, no! I don’t like this! I do -not-! He is a fucking machine! I’m not- I’m not fucking attracted to- But his thoughts died as Richard’s spare hand suggestively reached beneath the blanket.

He had never checked to see if androids actually felt… warm like people before. But everything about Richard was hot besides his frozen personality. His mouth, his breath, and his hands were pushing more heat onto Gavin than he thought he could manage. The chest that pushed against his own had a powerful heartbeat… and it was racing.

Gavin couldn’t have been imagining it. It was happening, wasn’t it? He closed his eyes tight, not being able to see anything anyway, but gasped within the analyzing kiss as he felt Richard’s free hand now massaging around his abdomen.

It was torture.

Every time he seemed to near an erogenous zone, Richard seemed to take delight in reaching just short of it. Then he would redirect his hand elsewhere… and this continued over and over again. Gavin put all the strength he had left into his arms, but it was of no use. RK-900 was holding his wrists with just a single hand with no trouble at all.  

Fuck, fuck… I-I can’t…

His mind was getting hazy.

Focus became an impossibility as the android suddenly seemed less forceful and far more languid with his tongue. Gavin couldn’t gather what the hell was going through the android’s mind but had long since given up fighting as he allowed the other to do as he pleased.

I-It’s just a fucking analysis. A really fucking weird ass analysis but an analysis. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

“Nngh!” Gavin winced in pain as the android suddenly pressed around the area of his stomach that felt abnormally sore to which the android abruptly pulled away, leaving his partner a panting and awkwardly aroused mess.

“Analysis complete. Thank you for your cooperation, Reed,” came the mildly smug voice in the dark to which Gavin only snorted.

“Fuck off… Sick prick. I was nodding off, you know. Then you had to come in and sexually assault me,” Gavin hissed while flipping over onto his stomach in an effort to conceal his unwarranted excitement.  

“It was to retrieve a sample of your saliva.”

“Oh really? Did you need a bucketful or something?”

“...I… needed enough.”

The hesitation in RK-900’s voice set Gavin off balance enough to quiet him.

Needed enough? The fuck does that mean? His mind stirred but the growing headache from all the stress was worsening things. Not to mention a lot of his blood flow had still retreated… elsewhere.

“I sensed an escalation in heart rate activity as well as respiratory functions. Would it be safe for me to assume that-”

“You just surprised me, fuck face!!” Gavin yelled almost shrilly to which he could swear he heard the other just calmly adjust the collar of his jacket.

“That… was exactly what I was going to say, Reed.”

Gavin then collapsed right there, feeling like an idiot. His entire body felt like jello. The tension he’d been feeling just vanished away to some far off land of fuck all.

He honestly wasn’t sure how much more he could even take.

‘You were surprised.’

Of course that’s what the tin can was going to say. What else was he going to conclude?

But the thought still made him ache.

“Do you at least have a final verdict? Don’t tell me we swapped spit for nothing.”

“Yes. It would appear that you have gastroenteritis.”

“...”

“The stomach flu.”

“Mm.” He thought back to his partner feeling him up. “Is that why you were coping a feel?”

“I was performing a simple palpation technique to ensure your organs were in good working order, Reed,” Richard explained matter-of-factly which might have made Gavin’s blood boil over if only it didn’t leave him feeling so empty inside.

Why the hell are his answers bothering me so much? He’s just an android. No feelings. No real value for anything beyond its mission. Just a damn piece of plastic. The man reminded himself firmly yet was surprised to suddenly feel a cold wetness draped gently across his forehead.

“This should cool you down. I will remain here to change it as you sleep.”

“Wh-Wait a sec. You diagnosed me, right? So what about some medicine?”

“I have consulted a health provider and the prescription is currently on its way to being delivered. It will take approximately… Tomorrow.”

“T-Tomorrow? I have to wait that long? Nngh..” Gavin curled up as his insides began to ache again.

His eyes squeezed shut as he felt Richard tuck him within the blanket again.

“This shit sucks… Must be nice never being able to get sick,” he grumbled yet quieted as he felt the android remove the wet cloth to soak it within a bowl, wringing it out, before dabbing along his face and neck, “H-Hey. I can do that myself.”

“But you don’t have to…” whispered the other.

Gavin couldn’t see him, but he could only imagine what sort of face his partner was making. RK-900 was so difficult to interpret… It was probably why the department dumped him on an equally ‘difficult’ individual like himself. He couldn’t help but crack a bit of a smile.

“...Well then why’d ya stop? Stupid, toaster. Don’t you have to take care of me? Come on, then!” he challenged the android like a child, but he could somehow sense the change in atmosphere straight away.

Especially when the cloth dabbed at him with much more liveliness than before, ensuring it didn’t miss a single precious spot.

#detroit: become human #detroit become human #dbh #dbh gavin #dbh rk900 #gavin reed #rk-900 #reed900 #gavin900 #gavin x rk900

[shysneeze]

Wet Dog (Sirius Black x Reader)

Request:Heyy! I was wondering if you could do a Sirius x fem!reader version of Whoolly Jumper. Maybe where reader is in Gryffindor and her and Sirius don't really get along but then while she's smelling the potion she smells campfire, leather and when she says wet dog, the guys all look at Sirius in shock. 

Warning: Cussing, my writing, injury etc

Author's Note: This is probs shit, never written a Sirius imagine but here you go :)

"Watch out, (Y/L/N)."

(Y/N) stumbles to the side as Sirius Black strides ahead of her into the potions classroom, followed swiftly by his apologetic friends. She can only roll her eyes as she follows, giving Remus Lupin an exasperated look as he pats her shoulder sympathetically. She’s already preparing herself for a long afternoon. 

"Don't you look ravishing today, (Y/L/N)." Sirius mocks as she takes her seat in beside him. "Bed head and all."

"What can I say, Black.” She smiles mockingly sweetly. “ I got my inspiration from you." 

Watching his smirk fall is one of the most gratifying things (Y/N) is sure she’s capable of. As school player and obnoxious prick, a title given to him by the girl herself, Sirius Black is not someone (Y/N) has ever found herself get along with. 

A prank gone wrong in their earlier school years, leaving her the undeserving victim of some nasty boils, destined them to a life as enemies, who’s day’s revolve around their petty banter and scathing remarks.

“Of course you did.” Sirius recovers. “I am dashingly handsome.” 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” 

Sirius goes to reply despite Remus’ warning nudge to his side when Slughorn begins to explain the lesson, approaching the cauldron in front of the class as it bubbles above the flame, letting off a pinkish steam. 

“Amortentia.” He begins with a smile. “Can anyone tell me what it is?”

“A love potion, Sir.” (Y/N)’s replies with a raised hand. 

“That’s right, Miss (Y/L/N).” Slughorn beams. “Well done.” 

“Show off.” “Sirius coughs. 

“Not my fault that you’re feeling threatened.” 

Remus long sigh is loud enough to have them both temporarily sheepish as Slughorn continues to explain the lesson, either ignoring or obvious to the way Sirius and (Y/N) have begun to bicker the minute Remus’ disappointed look faded.

Only once the class has dispersed to take turn at smelling the infamous potion do they let up, separating with mirrored glares to different cauldrons let bubbling across the room. 

Her sour mood is soon overshadowed by the same buzz as everyone else. Amortentia’s unique smell makes it a fascinating potion, and like most, (Y/N) can’t deny her excitement at getting to decipher what it smells like to her, or rather, who.

"Well, (Y/N)?" James Potter nudges her side once together at the front of the short queue. “What do you smell?” 

“Give me a chance, boys.” She chuckles. 

Remus has the decency to look apologetic, though his eyes carry curious glint to them much like James’. Giving him a knowing look, she turns with a small laugh to lean forward over the bubbling cauldron, inhaling deeply, and expectantly. 

It takes a moment for them to hit her, to diffuse into separate, identifiable scents rather than the initial confusion that causes her nose to scrunch. Behind her, James and Remus exchange a curious glance, finally a glimpse into their mysterious friend.

“Campfire.” She confesses first. “Leather and... wet dog?” 

She pulls back with a grimace, a disgusted look twisting at her expression. Behind her, James’ jaw has slackened and Remus’ brows have pulled into a confused frown that has concern prickling at her skin. 

“What?”

"Did you say wet dog?" Remus asks.

"Yeah.” She grimaces. “Do we know anyone with a dog?” 

"No!" James interrupts. 

His eyes betray him though, already staring across the room towards Sirius. She follows his gaze with a questioning frown. She’s about to question Siriu’s relevance when she spots Lily beside him, smirk finding her cheeks quickly. 

“I suppose you smelt Lilies?”

“Ha- yeah.” James laughs, almost mechanically. “Yeah.”

“Hm.” She grins. “How did I guess.” 

“I wonder.” Remus joins. “Not like he talks about her all them time.” 

“Of course not.” 

 Their worried looks still hold though, eyes darting between each other warily. She tries to dismiss it though, weird behavior isn’t uncommon amongst the infamous Marauders.

She focusses her thoughts instead on who on earth might smell of wet dog.

.

She’s not sure what she expects, walking into he empty hospital wing in the dead hours of the morning, but Sirius Black certainly wasn’t even a consideration. She peers down once again at the parchment clutched in her hands and inhales sharply as the pieces come together. 

She’d been reading in the common room as is her usual weekend tradition, forgetting time and not sleeping until the sun is creeping in the windows, when a scrunched ball of parchment has appeared from thin air and fallen into her lap. On it, an almost illegibly scrawled out request for her to come to the hospital wing, ASAP.

"Sorry." Sirius sighs. "I didn't know who else to message and I knew you'd be up..."

"It's fine. “ (Y/N) assures. “What’s wrong? Is Remus okay?”.

Sirius’s brows pique before he’s grimacing again at the movement, cracking the slow healing gash on his forehead. Moving closer at the sound of his hissed breath, her own breathing halts for a second as she catches the real issue in the light of one of the dim candles.

He’s grasping at his side with one hand, the other clutching at the table he’s sat on.  Through his torn short, she can see the crimson stain of blood seeping through the fabric and coating his fingers. She can see him grinding his teeth in pain, breathing in sharply before forcing out a question.

"You know?" He asks. “About Remus?” 

“Yes- what happened?”

“How?” 

“He’s a friend.” She explains quickly. “I figured it out- what happened to you?” 

“He’s fine, but he got me pretty bad.” 

He’s so flippant about it, as if it’s happened a million times before and he doesn’t care, but (Y/N) face freezes in disbelief. Her next question bursts out so loud she’s grateful for once that Madam Pomfrey isn’t here.

"You were out with him?”

"You said you knew!" 

"That Remus is a werewolf.” She exclaims. “Not that you were out there with him- do you know how unsafe that is?”

His chuckle at her reaction is short lives as it sends a ripple of pain through his side and has him hunching over with a chocked out groan. She’s coming forward instantly. steadying him upright again. 

"Merlin." She exhales " Take your shirt off, Black."

His lips twitch into a smirk.

"Awfully bold tonight, aren't we, (Y/L/N)?"

"Sirius, you are bleeding.” She warns sternly. “Don’t tease me right now.”

He nods, grunting as he peels his shirt off, revealing the source of all the blood, a jagged gash running down his side, the skin around it dotted with deep red bruises, not yet given the time to turn that signature purple colour. 

She’s quick to riffle through a few cupboards for a healing kit, grabbing some sterilising alcohol and a cloth, soaking it silently as he watches on, a mixture of mesmerised and concerned. 

"Um, this is going to sting.” She warns, blowing some strands of hair from her face frantically. “Like a lot.” 

“I’m a big boy.” He assures. 

“Fine.” She says. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

His body jolts the minute she touches him, breathed hissed through his teeth as he grasps for soemthing to hold onto. She reaches out for his hand with her free one, clasping it in her own and squeezing reassuring. He meets her eyes at the feeling, taken aback by the way their hands fit so perfectly together. She gets lost there for a second, in their little moment. 

“There.” She clears her throat after a moment. “I did warn you.” 

She pulls away to go for the bandages, the absence of her hand in his causing a sinking feeling in his chest he’s never felt before. He can tell she’s avoiding his eyes as she begins to bandage his wounds. 

“Thanks.” He says. “For doing this.”

“You’re an idiot.” She mumbles, moving away to inspect her handiwork. “I hope you know that.”

"Noted.”

 "Care to explain how it happened though?"

He contemplates it for only a moment, realising how contradictory it would be to lie after what she’s seen, what she’s healed for him. His body slumps slowly with a sigh. 

“Remus is our friend.” He starts. “We couldn’t let him go out there alone, so we- me, James and Peter- became animagi to help him out every full moon.”

“Because he isn’t bothered by other animals...” She exhales upon realisation. “That’s really clever.”

Her frown eases, the harshness of her voice disintegrating with the newfound respect that warms her chest. She steps forward again, looking up at him sheepishly. 

“You’re not that much of an idiot.” 

“I don’t know.” He jokes. “I lost control of my animal form and startled Moony.”

“Still.” She assures. “It’s very admiral of you to do that for a friend.”

“No one deserves to go through what he does.” Sirius shrugs. “If I can help even a little, it’s my job to do so.” 

She finds herself smiling at this new side of Sirius Black, a side that’s sweet, gentle. She shakes her head in disbelief as she runs a hand down his bandaged side, gently. 

“What’s you’re animagus?” She asks friendlily. “Please tell me its a chicken.”

“Ha, you wish.” He holds his side a she laughs. “I’ll have you know, I’m man’s best friend.”

“Huh?” 

“A dog.” He explains with a soft smile. “Big scruffy looking thing.”

She stills her hand on his torso, barely noticing how it’s wandered across his skin, resting on his shoulder before she pulls it back. He begins to frown at her slackened jaw and wide eyes. 

"Oh my god."

"What is it?" 

"Wet dog!" 

He blinks at her, standing with a frown, groaning as he pushes himself from the table to glare at her. 

"Well that's just rude."

"No, in the amortentia.” She exclaims, fingers curling in her hair in frustration. “Leather and wet dog.”

“(Y//N)-”

"Fuck sake, that was you?” She rambles. “Are you serious?"

"Last time I checked that was my name, yes."

"Fuck off, Sirius." She snaps. "I can't believe I like you of all people."

It’s like it all comes down at once, the reality of the night, no longer clouded by each warm touch and lingering gaze. Sirius Black is a player, an obnoxious prick and the subject of an affection she was sure she’d never feel for him. 

She goes to turn away with a scoff and a disappointed feeling in the pit of her stomach when, behind her, Sirius lets out a sigh and his hands are tugging her back by her waist, twisting her around until she’s stumbling into his chest. He holds her gaze, eyes full of questions as their lips are frozen millimeters apart. 

She finds herself nodding, reading him perfectly enough to know what he’s asking. Then, their lips are clashing in a kiss, their bodies stumbling backwards until hers hits the wall behind her. It’s all so rushed, finger curled in hair and heavy breaths. 

She has to force herself to pull back, his lips chasing hers as she gently forces him back and with a pant. His fingers are still curled around her waist, but his eyes are as wide as hers. 

“What- what just happened?” 

“I’m pretty sure we just made out.” He admits. “And it was pretty fucking good.”

“No, no we can’t start doing that.” She decides. “I’m supposed to hate you.” 

“Why!?” He bursts. “You can’t seriously be mad at me for something I did when I was fourteen.” 

“I had boils for days.” She hisses. 

“I was fourteen!” He retorts. “Merlin, (Y/N), I can’t believe I like someone who holds such a grudge.”

She freezes, breath catching nervously in her throat as she looks up at him again. 

"What did you smell in the potion?”

"Old books and flowery shampoo." He admits. "Your  shampoo."

"How do you know what my shampoo smells like?"

His blush is something she’s never seen before. It creeps up his neck and reaches the top of his ears instantly. A bit of her she’s no longer able to ignore observes how sweet it is, cute even. 

"I notice things..."He mumbles. "I'm very observant."

"Well your smells were all nice smells.” She argues. “Wet dog... why did it have to be you.”

He's smirking again, a smirk that she’s always dying to wipe off his face, but never before has she wanted to do so by kissing him, never before has it been so infuriatingly attractive... although perhaps it has, perhaps all that hatred has been hiding something else. 

"Can kiss you again?" 

She doesn’t recall nodding until they’re kissing again, his hands moving from her waist to cup her cheeks, his hands warm on her skin as they were in her hand. His lips are gentle, so much more so that she’s ever imagined and she knows they’re something she’ll never be able to live without again. 

"I'm sorry I pranked you when I fourteen." He apologises. “I didn’t know how else to get your attention.” 

“You thought boils were the way to go?” 

“I know right.” He grins. “Apparently all I needed to do was get my self badly injured.”

“Oh shut up.”

“You like me though. “ He teases. 

“Yeah.” She sighs, pulling him in again. “I do...”

#Sirius Black #Sirius Black x reader #Sirius black imagine #Sirius x reader #Sirius imagine #Sirius Orion Black #Marauders #remus lupin #James Potter #peter pettigrew #Sirius #harry potter

[rainniedae-blog]

Fic: Never Loved Yet Lost

Title: Never Loved Yet Lost

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Seungkwan never thought his first love would come knocking on his door. 

Pairing: Seungkwan/Seungcheol, Seungkwan/Vernon

A/N: This is Ian! I’m posting the second drabble which was requested by @jejublr and the people on twitter helped me pick out the pairing on the poll. I haven’t double triple checked like i did last time because I’ve had a pretty busy week so there might be quite a bit of typos (Im sorry). This is also my first time writing angst, so I’m sorry if the plot is a little messy. I’ve changed my layout so that its clearer and easier for you to see things. You can submit prompts to me if you want :) You can find me on Twitter and Ao3. I’m very active on twitter, you can talk to me there, I swear I’m nice and friendly. Or you could just dm me here, I’m always down to make new friends on here. There’s still a lot of stuff I need to organise on my tumblr but i’ll get to them soon. 

Seungkwan giggles along with Seungcheol as the characters in the movie make bad jokes about wontons. He’s happy and content with his boyfriend behind his back with an arm around his waist , with his giant bowl of popcorn he gets to himself because Seungcheol was on a diet and had a strangely high amount of self-control. Halfway through the movie, Seungcheol pulls him closer to his chest and falls asleep. Seungkwan could tell by the way his breathing had become more evident yet slower. He shrugs and continues to watch the movie by himself until the doorbell rings.

Surprised, he puts his bowl on the coffee table and coos himself out of his boyfriend’s arms. Resulting in a whiny, half-asleep Seungcheol which the younger just found absolutely adorable. Seungkwan goes into the hallway to answer the door.

“Who is it?” he almost whispers then reprimands himself in his thoughts because the visitor most likely couldn’t hear him through the block of wood. He clicks open the door.

“Kwan! Baby, I missed you so much!” The visitor yelled as he excitedly pulled Seungkwan into a hug. “Hansol?” Seungkwan watched, eyes wide as the other pulled back and grinned with his hands resting on Seungkwan’s shoulders. They stared at each other as Seungkwan felt his blood slowly increase in temperature, his expression turning from shocked to plain livid. He raised his fist and threw it straight across Hansol’s face causing the other to lose his grasp on his friend’s shoulders and tumble straight to the ground.

“Kwan-ah, Wha-”

“Don’t you dare call me that! How the fuck can you still act like we’re such chummy good friends when you basically rejected me and didn’t contact me for years?! How can you just show up here like nothing happened?!”

“Kwan, let me explain. I-”

“What’s happening here? Why’re are you yelling, Kwannie?” Seungcheol walks into the hallway, eyes sleepy and pouty.

“Why aren’t you wearing pants?” Hansol asked, offended and confused, looking at the man in his boxers.

“Uhh, I live here? Who the fuck are you?” Seungcheol asked as he walked forward and put an arm around Seungkwan’s waist protectively, resting his chin on his shoulder too because he was still sleepy.

“Oh.” Hansol said, eyeing the hand around his friend’s waist. His voice was smaller, defeated. “Kwan, I need to talk to you. Please.” He could almost feel his eyes tear up.

Both Seungkwan and Seungcheol eyed him warily. “Alright.” Seungkwan said with a sigh. He turned to his boyfriend, who still had a hand around his waist. “Cheol-ah, I need to go talk to Hansol real quick. I’ll be right back tho. Don’t worry.” The younger kissed the pout off of Seungcheols lips. Hansol tightened his fists, but neither Seungkwan or Seungcheol noticed. “Let’s go.” Seungkwan directed at Hansol.

***

Seungkwan led Hansol to the park behind the apartment building. Of course, Hansol already knew where it was.

“Remember this place?”

“Yea, it was where we always used to eat ice-cream together at like 11pm.” Hansol chuckled nostalgically.

“It was also the place where you rejected me.” Seungkwan said sourly as he found an empty bench to sit on. Hansol followed, sitting beside the other.

“I didn’t reject you, Seungkwan. I never did.” Hansol could hear his voice shake as tears filled his eyes.

“You literally ran away and the next thing I knew you were in New York. You didn’t even contact me. I had to find out from Mingyu. If that doesn’t count as rejection, I don’t know what does.” Seungkwan tried to keep himself from yelling but clearly it wasn’t working as his voice got louder by each word.

“Look, I’m sorry I ran off. Okay? I didn’t mean to, I was scared. Then my family called me off to New York the next day and I couldn’t not go.” Hansol said, exasperated.

“You couldn’t just call to tell me? What the fuck are you doing here anyway?”

“I’m here to make things right, Kwan. Please, let me fix things.” His tears dropped to his cheeks, his bottom lip trembled.

“There’s nothing to fix.” Seungkwan folded his arms and turned away. He could never stand the sight of his best friend crying, even back when they were younger. It always made him feel like he had to do something to make him feel better. And he did, but only back then. Back before Seungkwan found a feeling called love for his best friend. Back before his love was thrown and trashed by that same friend. He doesn’t comfort him now. He deserves to be sad. Seungkwan thought to himself as he kept his head turned away from the other.

Hansol left his seat on the bench beside Seungkwan. The older almost sighed in relief, thinking he left before he noticed the other standing in front of him. He watched as Hansol went on his knees and rested his forehead against the older’s thighs. He could feel the younger’s tears soak through his sweatpants.

“Seungkwan, please. I love you.” his voice was small and weak. Seungkwan could barely hear it, but he did.

Too bad, you piece of dick. You should’ve told me when you had the chance. Seungkwan wanted to tell him that. Tell him he lost his chance. To go home and live a miserable, lonely life. But he couldn’t. Not when he was so broken, so defeated in front of him.

He sighed, “Hansol-ah, I’m sorry but you know I already have Seungcheol. I love him now.” He looked down at the other, still on his thighs. Hansol said nothing, but instead snuggled his head into the space between Seungkwan’s closed legs. It could’ve been a quiet retaliation of Fuck Seungcheol. You should love me instead. I’m here now.  But Seungkwan wouldn’t know, the other’s pouty, indignant, almost childish expression was hidden in between his legs.

Seungkwan ran his hand over Hansol’s hair, back and forth in an attempt to comfort him before he sighed, “Hansol-ah, get up. I need to go back.” Seungkwan cooed, previous angers forgotten. He reluctantly lifted his head from the older’s thighs when Seungkwan shifted his hands to his cheeks and pulled him up. His face was a mess now that Seungkwan was looking at with the light from the shitty street lamp above them. Eyes; red, puffy and glassy. Eyelashes; wet and reflecting light in the most beautiful angles. Nose and cheeks; cutely flushed red. His lips were dry and cracked from dehydration after crying.

Despite all that Hansol was the most beautiful man Seungkwan had ever seen. His personality was just as beautiful. Although he was a big dumb idiot, he was kind. He was aware socially and culturally if not sensibly. There were many reasons why Seungkwan fell in love with him many years ago. But that day, none of them seemed to spark anything in his heart. He was in love with Seungcheol now and that was a truth he could not deny.

“Hansol-ah, let’s get you some water and send you home?” He stood up and held his hand out to the still kneeling boy. Hansol sniffed as he took the other’s hand and stood up from the cemeted ground, his light demin ruined by the dirt and dust on the floor. They get to the nearest convinience store and buy a bottle of water. Then he promptly gets pushed to the bus when Seungkwan notices the bus coming as they were walking towards the busstop.

He stares at the back of the reciept that Seungkwan gave to him outside the store. It had Seungkwan’s number on it written by a pen he borrowed form the store clerk. “Let’s remain in contact.” Seungkwan said with his usual heart-warming smile. He smiled to himself as he lifted his head to watch the scenery outside the bus window. He let his thoughts run. He knew it was bad of him to hope for the two to break up so that he could have his chance with Seungkwan. But he knew that he wouldn’t give up, no matter how many heartbreaks and sadness the chase gives him. He would never stop being there for Seungkwan. He would never not care for him. After all, he had been in love with him his whole life. What’s a few years more?

#Ian's Weekly Drabbles #verkwan #boo seungkwan #hansol vernon chwe #choi seungcheol #seventeen #seventeen fics #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst

[gayredmage]

101 Kinks - Seph/Gen

Prompt(s): blood play, body worship, breath play, sword/knife play. Pairing(s): “… possibly all with SephGen? Or any pairing you choose which involves either of them : D” @lilly-white

I hope you enjoy porn. Because that’s what you got. Rest assured, your other kinks will come in the next iteration. Also sorry this took me a while. I started watching porn for inspiration and got distracted.

External link: Status Undefined on AO3

He could never understand him. Genesis, successful in his own right, talented, charming, attractive, yet so utterly displeased with himself he formed a complicated tangle of relations with Sephiroth. Not that Sephiroth cared too much - the redhead was annoying, raving on about a silly poem and dragging men home to make his bed springs squeak in the later hours of the night.

It was as if it were intentional - the way Genesis worked his way under his skin. Flaunted his sexuality in an elaborate display, but was too arrogant and proud to let it go beyond infuriating eroticism. There was clear tension in their friendship - Sephiroth pulled by his duty as a soldier and Genesis’ superior, and a desire he could not fully comprehend that ate away at him; and Genesis was pulled by wanting to be the man’s friend whilst being torn apart by a company which refused to let his success be acknowledged in biased favor of Sephiroth. Naturally, the company fostered jealousy in the commander, when the success of his recent month long stint in Wutai was met with Sephiroth being awarded for Genesis’ own, independent hard work. It was this that Sephiroth understood, though he never agreed with the titles bestowed to him that was that of his commander, the bitterness and the bipolar nature of their friendship confused him.

Angeal had told him that Genesis wanted Sephiroth to see him as his equal, and Sephiroth had said he already did. However, he felt he was missing something - Genesis was just as annoyed and impatient with him as he was towards the redhead. A bizarre amalgamation of trust and distrust - of friendship and betrayal, but something more. Something that made those feelings so much more intense.

Something that made him wrap his hand around his cock in the middle of the night whilst Genesis got fucked by a soldier in the next room. Something that made him dream of shoving his cock into that loud mouth of his to shut him up for good.

Today, however, Genesis had arrived back from Modeoheim in the afternoon. The three then went to the virtual training room and enjoyed a rainy Midgar to spar in. Genesis talked of the cold there, mentioned how half his men were sick and one of them was recently engaged.

Angeal joked, “So Genesis...Sephiroth, when are you two going to settle down?”

Sephiroth grimaced and Genesis threw his hands up in the air, “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Angeal ignored him and rolled his shoulders “Well my friends, that’s more than enough for me today.” he said before looking pointedly at Sephiroth, “Be sure not to make him too mad.”

The general smirked, “Did you hear that Genesis? Angeal wishes for you to watch your temper.”

That remark did not at all help with the hateful rift they had. No matter. Sephiroth was tired going to bed listening to his commander get railed. He was sick of having these feelings of insatiable desire for someone so petty, irritating and arrogant, that he could not wait to fuck Genesis into a shameful mess - to take away his smugness and replace it with respect for his superior.

Sephiroth was mad. Genesis was livid. Such it was when Angeal abandoned the training room - leaving alone two hot blooded, stubborn men who had a habit to disagree vehemently. The holographic city streets of Midgar became a battleground for two over zealous egos with swords and a yearning to watch the other kneel.

“How DARE you!” Genesis shouted, gritting his teeth as he sent a ball of flames towards his opponent, “Who the hell do you take me for?!”

Sephiroth glowered, if he could give the brat a piece of his mind…The ungrateful brat who didn’t deserve his promotion and had been wailing to his superior about besting him. He couldn’t top in the bedroom, so what made him think he was so entitled to topping SOLDIER?

He raised his sword high, bracing himself for another superfluous flurry of over-impassioned attacks. Red hair clung to his ‘friend’s’ mad face with sweat, his blue eyes piercing as he panted heavily. Sephiroth couldn’t deny how adorable he looked battling so pathetically against the general himself.

Genesis spat out blood while Sephiroth’s temple bled. The redhead smirked, chest puffing like a proud cock. He was a real prick. Sephiroth deflected the glowing red sword for the nth time, only to have Rhapsodos charge him again like the cocksure prick that he was.Their swords crossed with the sounds of struck metal echoing across the rainy streets.

Blood dripped into one of Sephiroth’s eyes and Genesis licked his lips, before kicking out his opponent’s knee. The general grunted as he slipped on the wet pavement, barely catching himself before the redhead tried to strike.

Sephiroth wasn’t having it. A loud parry rang through the air. He laughed, dryly, “What could you possibly want with me on my knees, Rhapsodos?”

Genesis was a pain - no one infuriated Sephiroth more than his commander. He burned a dangerous fire within him that he couldn’t understand. And it seemed the feeling was mutual from the way Genesis reacted with violence. Sephiroth entertained him - let the commander back him into an alley, let him believe he had the upper hand, until Sephiroth found his chance to strike.

A sickening crunch cut through the air. Genesis froze, his sword clattering to the floor. Sephiroth had him pinned to the alley wall with the remaining length of his sword sticking out of him like a flag. Like the pragmatic idiot he was, Genesis gripped the blade, grunting as he tried to pull the blood covered blade from his shoulder. Sephiroth laughed menacingly before twisting his wrist making Genesis cry out in pain as the sword rasped along bone.

“Didn't anybody teach you manners?” he teased, watching his commander clutch himself and come to terms with what had happened.

Genesis entered a state of shock. The passionate warm hues to his skin drained from his face, lips quickly turning blue. He shivered, staring at the far wall as sinew tore and his legs gave in. He was good for a moment, knowing to not fight back. But he glared all the same at Sephiroth who wrenched his blade from the redhead’s shoulder with a nauseating squelch. The general loomed above him - satisfied and pleased at bringing the arrogant man to his knees.

“I see now.” Sephiroth sneered, tilting Genesis’ chin upwards with the end of his sword so that those furious blue eyes looked up at him from such a pretty angle, “You look so comfortable on your knees like that. Used to it, are you?”

Genesis smirked - for any other man he would have spat on their boots and gladly welcomed death to save his dignity. But for this man, he’d rather drive him insane, tear his walls down and have him needing, craving Genesis. The heavy taste of copper was in his mouth and the shock was beginning to wear off, but his determination failed to wane. He turned his head, slowly cutting into his jawline with the point of masamune.

“And? I wonder if you’re man enough to go all the way, Sephiroth.” His lips parted, head tilted, tongue rasping the flat of his opponent’s sword.  

Sephiroth was amused, watching Genesis wince in pain as he crawled to lick the full length of the blade. Those eyes. Those damn eyes. Heavy lidded, looked up at his general, begging to be at his full service. His shoulder gave out - the redhead groaning as he slashed his tongue and hit the floor clutching his wound.

Sephiroth laughed dryly, grabbed Genesis by the hair and flung him back against the wall. The redhead barked in pain and coughed, strings of blood flying from his lips as he grappled for air. “Pathetic.” the general said.

But like the defiant idiot he was, Genesis dug his red gloved fingers into the bloody tear of his coat. A deep, guttural sound of pain gurgled in his throat and Sephiroth looked on with delight - catching the sweat on his brow and the masochistic arousal in his leather pants, a truly beautiful display of dirty erotica. He was panting so beautifully as blood dripped down his sharp jawline and he worked his digits into his wound.

He sighed, back arching as he pulled his blood soaked fingers from his body. Sephiroth’s pulse quickened and Genesis...he was goading him. Egging him on to do his absolute worst whilst he twisted and stared in depraved seduction. Bringing those fingers to his lips, Genesis licked them with arduous pleasure - gasping and moaning deliberately, deliciously, until the lines of who had won and lost were blurred once more. His general was pleased with his little masochistic succubus, fucking his face on blood slickened fingers, making himself gag as a precursor to things to come.

His grin however was maddening, teasing, arousing.

Sephiroth tutted, “You never know when to quit, don’t you?” Voice calm, whilst anger raged on inside him. Genesis, as attractive and salacious as he was, he was fundamentally an irritating nuisance whose favourite pastime was to mock his superior with blatant displays of unchecked sexuality.

The general unzipped himself and stroked his cock, inches away from a pretty face. He could have sworn Genesis looked at his dick with needy lust - something to be expected of SOLDIER’s most decorated slut. Sephiroth grabbed a fistful of red hair and forced that bloody open mouth onto his cock.

“Eat it.” he grunted, snapping his hips harshly until tears fell from those smug blue eyes.

Genesis choked on him, struggling to keep up as he became little more than a warm mouth for his general to fuck. Not that he minded, as he mewled in mindless self-satisfaction - pain jolting from his shoulder and the cut in his tongue with every sharp thrust down his throat that his general managed. He pulled himself out of his own pants and moaned as he masturbated, blood pooling from his wound into his lap, lubricating his own dick with coppery fluid.

Sephiroth pushed him back, “Strip.” he ordered. And like the good soldier he was, the commander obeyed discarding his coat to a far corner and carefully peeling his shirt from his body.

Blood streamed down his immaculately crafted torso in tiny crimson rivers. He looked so delectable then - slumped against the wall with his bloodied cock out, unable to wrestle off his pants with only one functional hand. If he wasn’t so careful, Genesis would black out, despite his arrogance and shameless attempts at making Sephiroth aroused.

But the general was going to take his time with him - to appreciate his good commander who sat there like a feast ready to be ravaged. Taking masamune, Sephiroth trailed a long thin cut down the middle of the redhead’s chest, carefully carving down his sternum and between the centre seam of his abdomen. Genesis winced, yet held his tongue - flaunting his bare chest and trying to make himself into an erotic portrait of sin. Red fluid slowly oozed from the cut, tracing the dips and valleys of his torso, further enhancing his impressive musculature.

Throwing his blade away, Sephiroth sat beside Genesis and pulled him into a kiss. An unapologetic kiss - an aroused, insatiable and demanding kiss. And Genesis would have accepted no other. He groaned, moving deliciously as his general pulled away. Piercing green eyes devoured him, took in the heaving chest and the proud, leaking cock.

Sephiroth ran a finger down his soft neck, before tracing a handsome collarbone. He flicked and pinched a nipple making Genesis gasp, before tracing the fresh cut down his commander’s impeccable torso.

“Red was always your color, but...” he said, gathering blood on his finger, “You look your best in this shade of red.”

Genesis laughed breathlessly. “How romantic.”

And it was. Sephiroth put his blood smeared finger, tasting his commander. What a delight, he tasted just as good as he looked. The general held him and  kissed him fully. Breaking away, he began trailing his tongue down that gorgeous body, tracing the outlines of his muscles, lapping away at the blood before sinking lower. Lower. Lower.

Genesis’ breath caught in his throat. And to Sephiroth he looked so beautiful, so perfect, how could he not take him into his mouth and please such an attractive commander? Genesis was moaning, relishing in the joys of sexual satisfaction as his general sucked the blood off his cock and palmed his perfectly taut ass.

A different taste entered Sephiroth’s mouth as Genesis thrashed like a needy slut - salty and thick, unlike the coppery taste of blood. So in stride, he pulled himself up and the general took claim of his dazed commander. His cock waved in the redhead’s face and he was so desirous of plunging it back down his throat, only to have the other man stop him. A glint of mischief appeared in green eyes, and Sephiroth’s warm cock pressed against his fucktoy’s wound. Genesis howled in pain.

“The FUCK are you doing?!” he yelled, a sudden surge of energy overwhelming him as he tried to push the man away. But Sephiroth held him still, grasping his delicate neck in one hand and squeezing as he washed his dick in hot, red blood.

“I think I’ve hurt you enough.” he smirked darkly, “Now be a princess for me and spread those legs.”

Genesis spat on his face. Sephiroth wasn’t all too amused as red tainted saliva slid down his cheek. The redhead grappled at the hand around his throat and thrashed as the taller man hoisted him up the wall and struck him across the face. He was stunned, his ear was ringing.

“Play nice.” Sephiroth purred in his ear, and the redhead complied as he felt a hot, wet dick prod his ass. Wrapping his legs around his waist letting the other man tilt his hips right.

“I hate you.” Genesis seethed, annoyed at the smug look on his general’s face. Then clamped his eyes shut and screamed as a fat cock rammed into his ass.

Sephiroth held him tight and fucked him into the wall. Genesis would have whimpered if he could - system overwhelmed by the pain and the sadistic pleasure as the general kissed him, tasting him fully as he drank down the blood that seeped from his tongue. Fingers dug into his shoulder, and he let out a keening wail at the searing pain. But he moaned so happily around Sephiroth’s fingers licking off his own blood that his general fed to him. It was sick, violent, and forceful - he felt his tailbone will shatter against the wall from the ferocity of Sephiroth’s thrusts.

But he was high strung - his head in another realm as his body surged with pain and endorphins, turning the sadism and hedonism into a fanciful romance. His heart raced, Sephiroth bit his lip until it bled before sinking his teeth into his commander’s wounded shoulder. The pain overwhelmed Genesis, and he could only muster a squeak as his mouth hung open and his body became rigid. Sephiroth groaned, feeling his commander tighten around him as he railed him and lapped at his metallic life fluid.

Genesis groaned, feeling so overcome by the depravity of their sinful sex. He took his general’s hand and placed it to his throat. “Choke me.” he panted, eyes alight with desire.

And who was Sephiroth to deny him when he asks ever so sweetly? His black gloved hand secured itself around the thin, delicate neck met with a hard fuck that emptied the redhead’s lungs of air. He held him tighter, hearing those tiny gasps escaping his lush mouth until he was mouthing those lovely sounds. Genesis eyes shifted, softened from their hardened conceitedness as those soft lips turned blue. Sephiroth grasped him firmer, thrusting into him fully before releasing his slim throat. Genesis lurched forward as he gasped for air and immediately had his hand stroking his cock as Sephiroth fucked a stuttering moan out of him. He twitched, blood still trailing from his wounds, slickening the cock ramming into his ass before dripping onto the floor.

He fucked him harder, faster, breath hitching in his chest. His hand squeezed around Genesis’ throat, alternating between letting the man breathe and watching him struggle for air. The redhead’s arousal grew, he let out a strangled groan against the grip around his neck. Sephiroth pressed harder, bucking into him unrelenting - grunting as his commander struggled for release and became a hot, dick loving mess who delighted in every violent thrust.

Genesis couldn’t breathe, between the lack of air and the blood loss, he was light-headed, little more than a grunting, groaning fuck doll. Until his body stiffened, and he flung his head back to a soundless orgasm. Sephiroth released his neck, and a low shuddering groan resonated from his commander. Grasping his hips tightly, Sephiroth released deep inside him, Genesis still whimpering from the throes of pain and pleasure.

Satisfied, pressed against the wall, Genesis clung to his general before becoming limp, dead weight and dropped to the floor. Sephiroth regained his bearings, zipped himself back up and resigned to finding discarded clothes. The seconds were due for training in roughly ten minutes, and his commander, as competent and lovely as he was, was in no state to do so.

Taking out his phone, he called for assistance. “Angeal, would you like to fill in for Genesis this evening? Things got a little...out of hand.”

#sephesis #genesis rhapsodos #sephiroth #long fanfic #grmfanfic #ask

[trliteraltrash-fics]

Grin and Bear It - Chapter One

Chapter One : No Way Out

[Ao3 Link]

Inspired by @miss-conduct !

Notes:  You’re a 27 year old military Lance Corporal. You’d think that’d be good thing, but on a covert mission gone south, will you ever get to go home? Or will you adapt and find comfort right where you are? oh, and maybe you hadn’t heard, apparently time travel is a thing?

Left. In. Right. Left. Out.

Feet pounding the dirt forest path. Child slung over your back. A wetness seeping over your clothes. Panic closing your throat. Your lungs burned inside your chest with every breath. This was your fault. Your responsibility. This was all your fault, the blood soaking through your shirt, having used your jacket to tie off the injury. The open wound. The small whimper and dry sobs didn’t sneak past you. She was trying not to cry, she was scared you were mad. Jesus knew you were furious, but not at her – never your baby sister. It wasn’t her fault, you were mad at yourself, how dare you think that going for a walk in the forest with her was safe. How fucking could you let this happen? Idiot!

You ran faster.

Over rocks and tree roots. Jumping and almost slipping on the wet stones across the creek, your feet slammed against the ground. She needed first aid, you didn’t think about it, didn’t think about the consequences – how stupid could you be? Letting her fall like that? Your feet pounded against the already compacted dirt ground. well-worn with time, the momentum slowly pushing to the point of toppling over. The path twisted on what felt like forever until you saw the tell-tale signs of nearing home. She could be bandaged up and she could stop bleeding if she hadn’t already. The crying that had started becoming louder, you could tell she couldn’t keep a brave face. But you were still so damn proud of her for being so strong, even when you were panicking.

You stepped over a log, running towards the edge of the forest and towards the back gate to your Aunt’s house, your home. Storming up to the door, you had to readjust your grip on your little sister as you got it open. Stepping inside as though you were a one-person army storming a castle, you ran over to the old leather couch you had spent too many nights sleeping on. Placing her carefully down so you wouldn’t put her in so much pain due to the jostling of having had ran about a half of a kilometre.

You rushed to the bathroom, around the corner at the end of the hall. You tore open the cupboard under the vanity, blood now covering the front of the cabinet. Yanking the first aid kit out and throwing yourself back to your sisters’ side, you scrambled to perform basic first aid as you took your cell-phone from your pocket. Your fingers slipped uneasily over the buttons, dialling triple zero. Each breath a struggle as you placed the warm, wet device between your shoulder and ear.

“[Y]--[Y/N]!” You hear her sob as you heard your phone tell you that it had insufficient funds to make the call. Regretting buying groceries this week now, aren’t you? You fucking pig. You pushed the thoughts away and tried again, weren’t emergency calls supposed to be free?

“It’s okay, Mari, it’s okay.” Your phone dialled out as you took her hand.

“Hello, you’ve reached triple zero, fire, police, or ambulance.”

“Hello? I need an ambulance! – my sister – she’s hurt.” You called into the phone as you shakily tried to cleaned her wounds – the amount of blood covering your hands was astounding. Etching into your mind like an iron poker.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” He couldn’t hear you – you looked at your phone, covering it with fresh blood from your hands, only one bar – shit. You didn’t know where to start. Your throat felt tight. It was becoming harder to breathe.

“My sister!” You repeated with urgency, voice cracking with desperation and thick with emotion as you tried to stop the bleeding. But everything was becoming quiet. You sisters cries, the sound of the man on the other end of the phone asking if someone was there.

You felt your shirt stick to your back with blood that wasn’t yours and covering your hands as you looked at her leg, foot at an awkward angle. What if it was broken? Oh god, what if you had broken her ankle? If your Aunt found out, she would kill you! Setting to work trying to make a splint for it in case, you tried your best to calm down, look at the situation logically. Remove your emotion and panic from the task at hand. It was so hard. You didn’t think you could do this. All you had was some duct tape, towels and the iron pokers from the fireplace. If you couldn’t get help, you’d try yourself. You had to help her. It was your fault. But you could fix this.

You wouldn’t be useless.

-

It had been eleven years since you made that promise to yourself, not to be useless anymore. Having joined the military ten years ago. You were a Lance Corporal, by official terms, denying any possible promotion to the title of Corporal due to your “lack of leadership ability.” Which was just to say that one of the higher ups didn’t particularly like you or your opinions. That didn’t stop you from working efficiently with your team and living life in the army – currently deployed for a twelve-month tour in Russia, due to the alliance the American president, one Mr. Trump, had formed with their government. You had been touring previously with American soldiers and it seemed the most logical source of action. Given the alliances of your country. Not that you agreed, you had family back home that you missed. God, what would it feel like to see them again after so long apart?

Walking out from the sleeping quarters into the open, cold air of the base, your attention was called to the main tent, the rest of your four-man squad already standing at attention in from=nt of your commanding officer. His sharp American accent carrying over to your ears, indicating that he was giving a briefing. It struck you as odd that you weren’t notified due to your seniority over them as squad leader. Making your way over, you adopted the same straight as a board stance they were already sporting. The glare from the commanding officer in front of you sent electricity across your skin, muscles tensing as he continued with the briefing he was addressing to your associates. Not an uncommon sight to your comrades.

“The facility is located here –” he pointed to a portion of the map with the coordinates 65◦38’17” North 99◦33’09” East. “Forty-Eight hours from now, you will report any note-worthy intelligence. Complications are to be dealt with quietly.”

He glared at each of you, announcing that you would be departing tomorrow morning at 0300 before your squad were each dismissed. To your dismay, not only had you missed most of the briefing, you were left standing there. The higher ranked officer looking you over as if you were the mud and slick that clung to the underside of the bases’ vehicles. The feeling in the air becoming threatening and so tense that it could be cut with a rusted knife.

“Watson, if you weren’t being deployed on this mission I’d tie you to a fucking tree and leave you to starve.”  His voice was low, malice dripping from every syllable, and changing position to stand directly in front of you. “You are the leader of a squad handling classified intelligences. I can’t have the weakest link in the chain be the fucking leader.”

You remained stoic, he was right after all and speaking was too dangerous in this situation. He might literally tie you to one of the trees littered around. Not that he hadn’t almost done similar before.

“I don’t want any complications. All mistakes will fall on you. I won’t have the rest of your team suffer because of your insolence. Is that clear?” You nodded.

“I said; is that clear, soldier.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Better. Go clean the ACVs. Be prepped for departure – and don’t you dare be late.”

 ACV packed, and your squad loaded, you were filled in on the mission specifications. Russian science facilities were undergoing a security check due to allegations on a new type of tech being developed. The mission itself was new to you, but by no means was it against your line of work, however it still left you with a feeling of trepidation. There wasn’t much you could really gain in the first forty-eight hours if you were posing as security. You sat back and shut your eyes, rifle sitting in your lap, hands poised to pick it up and shoot if required. you needed to have at least a half hour of sleep or you’d be useless. You refused to be useless, besides. Your commander wasn’t breathing down your neck, and your ‘brothers-in-arms’ were already accustomed to your polyphasic schedule.

When you awoke, around two hours later, it was due to Jenks kicking at your feet. He had a smile on his face. “Can’t sleep for too long.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” You said to him, a small smile forming on your face.

“Fuck you, Watson.” He retorted. Your gaze momentarily turning to Mouse and Sprint. Of course, they weren’t their real names, but you accepted it as part of your day-to-day with them.

“How long until we get to Ground Zero?” you asked, rubbing your eyes and looking back to Jenks.

“Around four hours or so.” He nodded to your companions. “Boys wanted to get some sleep before we got there. Figured You’d keep me some company while we wait.”

“Fair. How’s the Mister?” You watched as his face lit up.

“Getting’ ready to adopt our kid in about six months. As long as everything here goes smoothly, I’ll probably get to go see Bubs get born.”

“’Get born’?” You repeated with a smile. “Best hope he doesn’t hear you talk like that. He’s probably correcting you all the way back in Texas now.”

He chuckled and looked down at his watch. “He’s probably asleep actually.”

“Figures. These time zones are a bitch sometimes.” You reached into your pocket and unfolded a piece of paper. Jenks looked at you.

“Yer looking at that little star again, aren’t you?” he asked, leaning forward.

You nodded and leaned forward, turning the photograph towards him. “Can’t go anywhere without at least one to brighten up my day. Why can’t I have this one in particular?”

“I can’t believe she was eight there. How old is she now?”

“She turns eighteen in a few weeks.” You smile at the photo. You wouldn’t miss her right now if you hadn’t have joined the army.

“Hey, what’s with that look?” He starts. “You’re lookin’ a bit depressed there.”

You look up at him, shaking away both your negative thoughts, and his concern. “It’s nothin’ really. Just don’t think I’ll be getting the all-clear to give her a call this year.”

“Can’t send her a letter?”

“Asters’ been holding mine, remember? I don’t know if she’s sent me any.” He nods at you.

“You’re not confident they’re getting out then?”

“Or if she’s changed her address.”

“Yeah…” he sighs and looks back to the photo. “Well, if I know you as well as I think I do. That’s not gonna stop yer stubborn ass from gettin’ back to her.”

You spoke with Jenks for the rest of the trip to the research facility, the topics ranged from your star back home, his husband, even the details you missed in the briefing. As it turned out, the intel on the facility had said something about some tests going wrong, and that they weren’t coming back with enough reports. It was suspicious, and, with the race to develop new tech, you could see how that could be perceived as a problem if you were working with another country. All it really did was remind you of group projects back in high school.

Arriving at the facility, you found the entire premises was empty and obviously ransacked, if the lack of security detail was anything to go by. The ACV was a few hundred metres south, leaving an impossible feat if you were shot at due to it being your only EVAC point. Sending half your squad around to the north of the premises, you made the decision to flank south, and look not only for survivors but for any potential threats. The gates were already unlocked upon arrival. Another candidate leaning towards a death sentence. You would ordinarily report this right away, but the radio chatter could be useless if the facility was deadening contact out of the premises.

This wasn’t something you would’ve seen yourself doing almost a lifetime ago, wearing sturdy boots, feeling too loose from not having retied them in a while. Nylon camouflaged military jacket, black shirt, and dark military pants, all of which was standard issue with a few modifications on your part. All whilst conducting highly dangerous work with the implication of no government help if any of your team was caught.

You swept the area, Jenks, your right hand doing the same to clear before moving on. The main floor of the facility looked to be a loading bay. Crates of equipment stacked up un neat piles around the general vicinity. A few had papers stuck to them, probably for organisation. However, no one was inside. It left the facility with an eerie feeling to it. The lights weren’t on, the sunlight filtering through to show the dust in the air, most of which was filtering from outside.

You turned on the torch at the end of your rifle, using it to clear the darker areas of the room as you walked over to a desk. You looked at the ground first, paper, pens and other potential intel scattered about. Crouching down, you looked down at the papers. Most of it had terrible handwriting scrawled along the pages. Some of it were what you assumed were types copies of different reports. You caught some names, but they meant nothing to you, or the mission at hand. You turned to the computer monitors. Turning one on, you were met with a blue light, a single line of test at the top left of the screen. It looked like that facility had power, but the computers themselves were useless.

You furrowed your eyebrows and continued, pressing the button on your communicator to inform your team of your findings. Frowning when you heard static, you continued onto another room. It was the server room for the floor, the casing around the hard drives, cables, and other equipment in building servers, ensured that none of the dust in the main room of the facility interfered with the servers. You took note and decided it was something you would have to set Mouse to hack and gather intel from. You spent a few minutes ensuring the room was clear in case there was something you had the potential to overlook.

Turning and exiting the room, you moved to the next one. The room looked to be a main office, which caught your attention immediately, an office you could work with. You searched through the small, ransacked room, under the desk, behind filing cabinets, clearing it of potential threats and any potential workers. Again, the room was empty. The feeling you got so far was increasingly suspicious, but your orders were clear, and if you didn’t come back with something you were sure that your Commanding Officer would make good on his promise. You didn’t fancy the idea of being tied to a tree. Not like it matters, you deserve it.

You started to go through the contents of the desk, there were a few forms that had only been half completed. The computer didn’t work, which you expected, what you found, however, was a schematic to the building. You look over the blueprint carefully, taking note of the different layout of each floor. There were three test labs, four server rooms, another two offices, and another loading bay. All set out in an extremely specific way.  You turned your attention to the contents of the draws, you found about what you’d expect. Paper, pens, manila folders with nothing in them. Nothing useful.

You couldn’t call it in, and there was no way to check in with your squad until you met them outside once again. You hadn’t heard any disturbances yet, but that didn’t mean there weren’t complications. With everything falling onto you as squad leader, you certainly hoped that there hadn’t been any interferences. You moved over to the filing cabinet, you pulled it open, the files inside were scattered and untidy. Some filing system. Just what had happened to the people in this facility?

You sorted through the files, looking at the titles, trying to find out what could have happened, and some useful info. So much of it was dated a good few years back. Perhaps research into whatever they were testing? The last file you picked up was dated around twelve months ago, and titled Project Streamline. The large ‘classified’ written over the text didn’t deter you from pulling it out and opening the file. It had schematics in it, but no real information. There had to be more information around here somewhere. The schematics were of a machine, perhaps if you could find it, you’d be able to find out more.

You took the contents of the folder, folding it and tucking it into your back pocket. Figuring that you would at least have something to show for this mission if nothing else. You searched through the rest of the floor but found nothing useful. You did, however, almost become trigger happy when Jenks footsteps registered in your ears on the second floor. When you saw him, he looked just as concerned at you felt.

“Jenks.” You said, voice low. “Anything?”

He looks at you and shakes his head, his voice matching your tone. “Nothing on this floor. Mouse needs to check the servers. Powers out though.”

“Top floor split?” you ask as the two of you find a staircase.

“Looks like we have to.” He places a hand heavily on your shoulder, nodding at you before heading left.

Turning right, you found what looked to be one of the test labs. You opened the door, the sound of the heavy door on strong hinges caused you to tense. Walking into the large space, you found stationary, research, equipment and general non-critical intelligence scattered everywhere. The room was mostly empty besides from the desk near the door, and the separation between the desk and the rest of the lab itself, linked by an internal door. A machine caught your attention, like nothing you had ever seen before. Well, not in person. You took the schematic from your pocket, unfurling it and placing it against the glass of the window separating the lab and testing desk.

It matched.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you walked over to, and pried open the heavy sliding door, the sound of it unsealing like a fridge door that hadn’t been opened for a long time. The air was stale, your bootsteps echoing much louder on the hard floor. Your gaze fell to clearing the room, despite feeling as though the room was empty. The room only held the machine in it. Standing in the middle of the room, you turned to the machine again – you knew that you really couldn’t hope to understand it just by looking at it, not that you had the time to do so.

A feeling of unease grew over you, something about this room was wrong. You took a few steps around the machine, tentative, with your rifle drawn, sweeping to re-clear the room. Boot-falls thudding as your gaze circled everywhere you had a clear view of. You had made your way to the middle of the room, next to the machine, investigating it now. Just what was it? You reached into your pocket, taking a small camera from your utility belt and took a few digital photographs of the machine. The schematics told you nothing of how it worked, just that it was. You weren’t sure what left you so uneasy, not knowing, or finding out.

Your eyebrows drew together as a gnawing began at your mind. It the suspicion that there were no staff present. Even more so that many doors were unlocked. The anxiousness that came with not knowing. Were you just that useless that you couldn’t find simple intel on the facility? You bit your lip, that couldn’t be it. You refused to be useless, not anymore. The movement of what sounded like the crumple of paper came from behind you.

Check your six, soldier.

You turned so fast that you slipped backwards. Grasping the first thing your hands could land on. Which happened to be the machine behind you. Everything stopped. A feeling of weightlessness and heaviness all at once as things felt too fast and too slow all at once. A force not unlike a freight train hit you, making you feel heavy and exhausted, body aching.

What the fuck was going on?

-

You awoke with an intense ringing in your ears. An ache running throughout your entire body. It started in your deadened feet, up your legs, torso, your arms, down through your fingertips, and up into your cranium. Light blinded you as you opened your eyes. Everything was sluggish and heavy, the sounds around you were overwhelming with the spiking headache hindering your senses. Everything felt so loud, so overwhelming. The air smelled synthetic, like fresh buildings. There was the sound of a car passing, it blew everything louder into your already over loaded ears. It was all so overwhelming, and you hadn’t even looked around properly yet.

The feeling of danger was suddenly prevalent. You pushed through the pain of your body, everything painful, the beat of your heart speeding up as adrenaline shot through your veins like lightning. Groaning, you forced your screaming muscles to just work with you. Give you a sense at what had happened. Figure out why it was so goddamned loud and overwhelming. Where even were you? Pulling your legs under you, one knee up with a foot flat on the ground. You pushed yourself up, everything begging you to just lay on the ground and give you a moment to recover. Your eyes slowly adjusted as you took the time to do this, gaze flicking around you. Heart picking up again, faintly causing you to wonder if you were going to have a heart attack.

You were on the corner of a street. Nowhere near the facility.  Everything was sleek, plants so green. It looked like the saturation of the world had been turned up. Everything hurt, and you were in a jarringly unfamiliar environment. The people wore clothes that you didn’t understand. The sun was bright, and your eyes hurt. Why did everything hurt?

You looked over yourself. Your jacket was torn, there was blood on your pants leg. Was it yours? You didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to entertain the idea of having gotten yourself hurt. It would only slow you down. There were a few passers-by who simply walked past. They seemed as though they didn’t want anything to do with you. Their gazes politely snobbish. One passer-by did stop however, asking if you were alright, you think. The ringing was intense. You felt cool hands on you, disorientating you as you were pulled onto your feet. Your stance properly balancing out on your after a few moments, the dizziness becoming less overwhelming. You lifted your gaze to meet the person who pulled you up and almost fell all over again.

There in front of you, was what seemed to be a fully-functioning robot. No wires. No controllers. Nothing to suggest an external port in operating. It held the silhouette of a regular person, metal shaped like real limbs. Its face the only thing that really stood out as non-human despite the colour of its ‘skin.’ Such a sophisticated piece of technology was almost as jarring as the fact that you were in a completely foreign environment. Eyes widening, you stumbled back against the wall behind you. The robot looked at you with what you guessed was probably concern, head tilting a few degrees the right. It didn’t exactly have a moving facial structure. You reached into your holster and fondled clumsily for your sidearm. You aimed it at the ground between you, arms shaking. Attempting to force yourself to listen past the ringing which had dulled only enough to just make out individual sounds.

“Where am I?” you asked in a pointedly, if not highly distressed, voice that was somewhat hoarse. The robot seemed worried, almost flinchingly so. Unresponsive for several long seconds.

“You’re on the corner of King’s Row.” They responded, worry and fear in their AI voice. You grew confused, and significantly more distressed.

“Where the fuck is King’s Row?” You glared at the robot, who didn’t answer fast enough for your growing impatience. You raised the gun towards the sky and pulled the trigger. The sound, not unlike that of lightning rang out and echoed, leaving a painful jolt down your aching frame. A scream down the street alerted to that someone had seen, or heard you pull the trigger. You didn’t think so much as felt the panic that grew intensely within you, your heartbeat adding to the mix of sound in your ears. Gaze flicking around and back at the robot. “Where is the closest city?”

“Y-you’re in London.” The robot replied, voice panicked and arms out defensively in front of them, as if you were going to shoot them next.

London?!

The next thing you heard was the sound of police sirens in the distance, getting closer. You swore, for the umpteenth time and took off running. Gun gripped tightly in hand. Thoughts chastising you for making an idiot call. Shooting in the middle of a heavily populated area? Really? Legs screaming, knowing that you would be in for a hell of a time in whatever god forsaken reality you were in. Was all of this even real?

You turned down an alley way, finding the streets too open. Too vulnerable. It was too bright outside. You’d be spotted if you didn’t find a place to hide. But where would you even find that kind of solace? Maybe this was all a trick and you could go back… but back where? You couldn’t remember. It was foggy, too hazy to get a clear grasp. Maybe you hit your head a bit too hard. You knew you weren’t supposed to be in London.

Leaping onto a dumpster and over a wire mesh fence, you took a moment to assess your surroundings, legs screaming at you. There was a fire escape to your right, quite possibly leading to the roof of the building. A set of windows high above you on your left. The dank alley wasn’t more than about three metres. Maybe about 9 feet in width. You could make it. Moving under the fire escape, you jumped up onto an unstable box. You turned, crouching to balance and get the maximum amount of spring as you leapt up grasping the bottom bar of the retracted metal ladder. The pile of boxes falling over. Swinging your hands, and using your legs for momentum, you started to climb. It was hard, body protesting in the dangerous situation you had placed yourself in. But adrenaline was a hell of a drug.

On the sixth rung up you pulled your legs up onto the platform. The sirens were louder now. You could hear the law enforcement officers shouting to each other as they searched for the one who had been shooting. Looking for you. Climbing up the stairs towards the higher floors of the building, you ducked behind plants, crates, anything that could potentially serve as cover from the view of the officers below. Only a few more floors now and you’d reach the top floor of the building. All the while, your body down to your bones continued to beg, to stop. You counted your footsteps and ran as quietly and quickly as possible.

One, two, three, fo--

You heard a shout. looking down, you saw one of the officers walking down the alley you had come down, on the other side of the fence. Dammit. You got down as low as you could, moving behind a crate covered by a cloth, probably used as a table. You watched as he inspected they alleyway. They looked like the other robot you had encountered earlier. It sent a shiver down your spine, anticipation growing as goose bumps flared over your skin. Would they spot you? If you were arrested there was no way you could explain your situation. You weren’t supposed to be here.

You chanced crawling as quietly as you could to the next level, taking advantage of the cloth at the top of the stairs. You chanced a look. The officer was scanning the fire escape. You held your breath, blood like ice in your veins as you pressed yourself flat against the side railing. Your legs turning to lead. The ringing in your ears an annoyance that left you wondering how long you had to wait until you could move once again. Your hands were shaking, this was different than being out on the field. It was in a city. This wasn’t an open field or a sweltering forest. It was a city full of people.

You cast your gaze to the floor above you, the top level of the fire escape, and thus, the access to the roof. Somewhere they wouldn’t be able to see you from the ground. The thought of being away from the eyes of the police, in an environment you didn’t feel was safe at all what short lived as the sensation of being watched flooded your senses. You froze. You had to find a work around. A plan B. A way out of the eyes of the authorities.

You looked at the floor you were on. There wasn’t really anything you could use, was there? There were potted plants, tarps and other items that were too large to throw. Your eyebrows furrowed. You had to have something small. Preferably that would create a large enough distraction to take the officers’ attention for several seconds. But what did you have that you do that? You looked down at your hands, and then down at yourself. Your pistol sat in its holster. Your pistol, it had bullets in it, obviously, but would they provide enough of a distraction?

You took the clip from the handle and sat the pistol in between your legs, eyebrows furrowing as you carefully removed two bullets from the clip. You placed them into your pocket as you reloaded the clip into your pistol, returning it to its’ holster. You turned your gaze behind you, looking carefully to the alley way. The had to be a certain trajectory you could take to get at least one of your bullets to land in a way that would lead to your escape.

You found that the ringing was back as you tried to think, you could hear each breath you took, deep and anxious. You could almost see the calculations you were making in your head, written out for you to take in any and all contingencies. You took the first bullet out of your pocket and threw it, aiming for the pavement behind the officer.

Ducking, you heard a small, sharp pop. You chanced a look out to where the officer was standing, he was turned around, walking towards the street to investigate. You carefully went up the stairs, the movement itself causing more protesting from your aching legs.

At the top level of the escape, you looked down again, the officer was still facing his back to you. Leaning back, you let out a quiet breath. Looking up to see how far you had left to climb before you’d be seated on the roof. Another three metres roughly. You didn’t think you’d make it that far, not with the fresh blood you could feel on your leg, and the dull ache settling in your already exhausted bones. Maybe if you just rested for a minute, you’d be fine.

 You awoke once again to a someone patting your cheek, distinctively British accent trying to talk to you. Senses becoming overloaded, you felt the cool air against your skin, the quieter sound of pedestrians and other civilians, the same synthetic tinge to the air, the warmth of their hand. The feeling of danger and insecurity filled you as you opened your eyes, noting the darkness of evening. You took hold of the persons’ wrist with your left hand, glaring up at them, and reaching for your weapon. The person in front of you, was, in fact, a young woman. Her eyes covered by a type of orange safety googles.

“Hello, love. Are you alright?” She asked, her voice laced in a cheerful sort of concern. She didn’t seem too worried about the grip you had on her wrist. She looked like she was used to this sort of encounter. You took half a moment to take in your surroundings while she awaited an answer. Still seated on the fire escape.

“M’fine.” You croaked out, voice rather hoarse, throat like sandpaper. You weren’t in optimal health. The young woman in front of you looked rather surprised at you for a moment, until you shifted. Upon sensing the pain, your hand tightened its grip on her wrist. God, it hurt. What the hell happened to you? It wouldn’t have slipped past her if you wrote ‘I’m wrecked’ on your forehead in big, block letters.

“Are you hurt?” She asked, voice an attempt at reassuring. Her free hand falling gently on your shoulder. Her gaze running over you to look for injuries. You however, were pushing yourself into the wall at this point. You were caged by her concern. You didn’t know who the strange, all to ready to help woman was. For all you knew she was going to arrest you.

Heart beating faster, you made the most instinctive, impulsive and stupid move possible. you brought your legs up quickly and used your feet to harshly send her sprawling backwards, limbs protesting with both effort and strain it caused. You looked around as the young woman got her bearings, you climbed onto the railing and pulled yourself up. Panic and adrenaline overbearing the pain of moving. You set both feet on the roof before she could grab at you. However, a few steps across the new vantage point, she appeared in front of you in a flash blue. You stumbled, and she grasped your hands before you could fall back, sending a jolt of pain up your arms. Your skin on fire, and joints wanting to come undone. Her gaze was a little annoyed, but still rather confused, if not concerned.

“Love, I’m just trying to help. I can get you some help if you’re hurt.” She sighed, as she regained her cheery composure. “What do ya say, hm?”

Would it be so bad to just accept the help from this concerned stranger? She did appear out of nowhere, and she was dressed rather strangely. Don’t be stupid your mind chastised. You shook your head, you weren’t going to accept her help.

“Don’t be daft,” she tried to reason, her hands tightening their grip on you to tug forward so you could stand on your feet. “Let’s get you some help. It looks like you did a number on your leg.”

Your mind raced as she spoke to you, it felt condescending, like you had to be coddled like a child. You didn’t want to go with her, it felt unsafe. You shook your head, body moving before you could think it through properly. Hands twisting to removed themselves from her grasp as you stepped back, rather stupidly forgetting that there was no surface in that particular direction – god, maybe you weren’t worthy of your rank.

Everything happened so slowly and yet so quickly all at once. The feeling of weightlessness falling over you again, only supplemented by the sense of being pulled down farther than you had been standing. The woman in front of you became aware of your stupidly self-inflicted situation. You heard her voice, but not her words as air rushed over you and past your ears. A flash of blue and a rather hard bump on the head was all you processed before blacking out..

-

The young British woman, Tracer, felt bad. When she found you lying on the fire escape, she thought that you might’ve been looking for a place to sleep. It wasn’t the most uncommon sight in the world – seeing someone who could’ve been regarded as homeless. Your clothes had been torn and were, admittedly, rather dirty. What else was she supposed to think? Waking up and hearing your voice had been a shock. Her initial though was that maybe you were drunk, but she hadn’t found the scent of liquor on you. That only meant one thing.

You were Australian.

She wasn’t sure what had surprised her more, your nationality, accent, or the fact that you weren’t loud and uncivilised like the people left behind back in your home country. It made you somewhat of a rarity in her line of work. Her caring nature left her with the desire to help you, she knew you were in pain, and when you fell, an unsightly gash on your head opened. She had to get you help.

She had known she couldn’t go to the hospital, should she be recognised and arrested due to her not exactly legal heroics. So, instead she had taken you to the relatively underground, Overwatch safehouse in London. Her friend, and partner on duty, Lucio, had been stationed with her, their investigation leading them to London, where she found you. Which, in her line of work, had been complete luck.

That’s what lead to now, a week after she had found you. Tracer seated outside the infirmary of the New Overwatch HQ facility. Resident medic on the scene, having not allowed anyone near you since you were admitted into her care. Of course, that hadn’t stopped Tracer from asking after you, for your progress. Even if you’d be up and walking around soon. Sadly, nothing had come of it besides from the fact that the doctor had put you into an induced coma while she did tests and administered what she thought was the best treatment to get you up and running again.

Tracer really couldn’t get the look on your face out of her head either. Shock, pain, and then anger all mixed into a horrible expression of someone who looked cornered. Had she made you feel like that? Backed you to far that you felt like you had to run away? It brought to her an understanding as to why you had reacted the way you did. Kicking her off you like that. She could tell you were strong from the force in it.

Maybe she’d get the chance to ask you. Well, not until you were in good health. Besides, maybe you would grow to hang around and talk to her about it all on your own. Even sign up to the new overwatch once you were well enough? She certainly hoped so.

“Lena.” Doctor Ziegler called for her, suddenly derailing her train of thought. Her gaze snapped up to the doctor who was looking down at a file with her eyebrows furrowed.

“How is she, Angela?” Was the first question out of her mouth, concern evident as she stood, the expression on her face earnest.

“Tell me again, where did you find the young woman?” Angela’s pen tapped against your file.

“Out in King’s Row. After the posting in France. We had to go to London.” Lena’s gaze fell to you, lying in one of the hospital beds in the infirmary.

“And you said you found her unconscious?”

“Yes. And, as I said in my report, when I was trying to help her, she had a dreadful fall. Hit her head against the railing of a fire escape.” She watched as Doctor Zeigler furrowed her eyebrows, rubbing her fingers against her temple and turning to walk into the infirmary. Lena following her. The room itself filled with familiar scanners, monitors, medical equipment and the smell of disinfectant.

“I have some concerns.” Angela’s voice was strained, as though she hadn’t been sleeping. Lena furrowed her eyebrows.

“Concerns? What’s wrong? Is she going to be alright?” Her questions only caused a tired sigh from Doctor Ziegler. She watched as she ran her fingers through some of her blonde hair, tucking some behind her ear. Angela walked to her desk, the sound of your constant heart beat filling the room ofr a few moments. Tracer found a number of files stacked neatly on the desk.

“I’m not certain of her condition. I will have to consult Winston about this.”

“Talk to Winston… what’s wrong with her?”

“Her ribs are bruised, I have mended the wound in her leg. Her other minor injuries have healed rather well so far. However, it is her mind… despite the injury… there is an abnormally large amount of activity in this coma she is under.” She had started mumbling to herself as she looked over her reports and data. “It is moderately alarming.”

“Why is that concerning?” She asked, a slight bit confused. How was having an overactive brain a bad thing? “Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

Angela runs her hands over her face, the lines painted over her face from stress only added to her look of exasperation as she looked down to the file she had. Mostly full of scans, the information Lena had told her, and a list of your personal effects. “It is… unclear, at this stage, Lena.”

“You’ll be able to fix her up, though, won’t you?”

“We shall see.” Ziegler told her, flipping over to a new page. “If she wakes.”

#Soldier : 76 #Jack Morrison #reader #x reader #army titles #angst #slow burn #self-loathing #self-hate #self-destruction #Tracer #mercy #Lena Oxton #angela ziegler #overwatch #fanfic #winston #mission #russia #overwatch fanfic