#turned on the animated series and got so taken aback by the coughing

[mikhardwheat]

I was reading bsd and only realized that Akutagawa's has a lung disease in 88th chapter when he says he has one, because I didn't notice him coughing prior to it.

What a plot twist, huh.

#my friend keeps making fun of me #well deserved #turned on the animated series and got so taken aback by the coughing #bsd #bsd ch 88 #bungou stray dogs #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa ryuunosuke

[juliandev0rak]

Into The Wild  

Chapter 2: Larkspur

✧ Into The Wild Series ✧ playlist ✧

words: 2042

Willa’s first week at Camp Vesuvia passes in a blur, with new campers arriving every day from all over the country there’s hardly a chance to catch her breath. 

The days rush by with routine activities, but Willa finds that she loves waking with the sun and all of the hustle and bustle of camp life. From the moment she wakes up, there are a million things to do. First thing in the morning she reports to the kitchen to help set up for breakfast, then she rushes over to the arts and crafts cabin to set up for daily activities. By the time she’s returned, breakfast is nearly over and she has about five minutes to scarf down some food before rushing back to do activities for the first round of campers. 

The arts and crafts cabin is where Willa spends most of her day. She’s been trying to find an art teaching job for years, working a variety of part time jobs as a barista in the mean time. Camp Vesuvia is a dream come true, she gets to do art all day and she’s finally doing something she cares about.

Though her day consists of more “Don’t put that popsicle stick up your nose!” and “Don’t eat the paint!” than she’d imagined, she’s begun to love the campers who visit her frequently. A small group of campers come for her art activities every day and she’s started to befriend a few of them. One camper even painted a portrait of her, she has it hung up on her bedroom wall and it makes her smile every time she sees it.  

Willa’s favorite activity to teach is landscape painting. She takes the campers outside by the lake or in the fields where wildflowers grow, and tells them to paint what they see. With only washable non-toxic paints the kids have surprised her with their talent to capture the beautiful scenes of the nature around them. 

She walks through the groups of campers as they paint, offering encouragement or advice, a bit of darker green there as a shadow, an extra flower petal added for symmetry, and watches as the kids bloom into artists before her very eyes. Even the ones who say they “can’t do art” manage to have fun, and that’s what art is if you ask Willa— having fun. 

One afternoon as Willa is cleaning up a paint spill, someone taps her on the shoulder. She turns to find one of the girls who comes back to the art cabin every day looking at her. The girl is a returner, a camper who comes back to Camp Vesuvia every year.

“This is for you,” the girl says, holding out a small sparkly piece of paper. Willa takes it from her, surprised to find a pink smiley face sticker similar to the one she’d seen on Asra’s name tag. “We only give these to the counselors we really like,” the girl whispers, giving Willa a shy smile. Willa accepts the smiley face sticker as a badge of honor and sticks it proudly to her name tag. She really is fitting in here.

After dinner there's always a campfire and s’mores, which is arguably Willa’s favorite part about camp. As the sun sets, the stars come out and the world begins to feel more magical. She hadn't realized how much she missed the stars while she was living in the city. Her childhood had been full of nights like this, huddled around a campfire with her siblings and staring up at the sky. 

As a counselor, it’s her job to make sure the campers stay a safe distance from the fire and to help the kitchen staff pass out marshmallows. When she’s done, she usually sits next to Asra and listens to him joke with the campers as she eats toasted marshmallows, most of which she accidentally burns. As she spends nights talking and laughing and handing out napkins to chocolate covered campers, Willa begins to realize that the empty, searching feeling she’s had for years might finally be going away. 

In the middle of the campfire one evening, Portia calls her name to get her attention, beckoning her over to the kitchen. “Willa, can you take this garbage to the dumpster for me? It’s just through those trees over there.” 

“Sure thing, I’m on it.” Willa accepts the heavy trash bag with a smile, hefting it over her shoulder. 

The sounds of the campers and the light of the fire fades behind her as she heads towards the treeline. The sun has nearly set and it’s much darker in the woods, Willa realizes that she probably should’ve brought a flashlight. It takes her a minute to find the dumpster, and when she does she sets the garbage bag down and struggles with the anti-bear latch on the top.

“Stupid—latch—why won’t you open,” she mutters, resiting the urge to curse at it in case any campers are within hearing range. 

A shuffling noise startles her and Willa whirls around to see a black bear cub pawing at the garbage bag she’d set down. She stifles a gasp and takes a step backwards, trying to remember how you’re supposed to handle bears. Is she meant to keep quiet and sneak away, or should she be loud to scare it off? This is only a cub, but no doubt its mother is nearby.  

An even louder noise from her left draws her attention and Willa holds her breath, praying that a giant, mother bear isn’t about to emerge. A figure approaches through the trees and in the dim lighting she can’t make out what it is. She takes another step back, preparing to run back to camp if she has to. Whatever is approaching seems to be making a strange noise, it almost sounds like two sticks being hit together and Willa turns towards the trees to hear it better. 

The first figure to emerge is a large wolf and Willa yelps as she takes yet another step back. First a bear and now a wolf? Luckily, the wolf looks calm enough, it takes a step towards her in interest but doesn’t seem immediately intent on eating her. The strange noise continues as the other figure steps out and Willa exhales in relief when she sees that it’s just the park ranger, Muriel.

He doesn’t look at her as he approaches the bear cub, and as Willa had thought, he's hitting two sticks together. The loud noise catches the bear’s attention and it scampers off, back into the woods in the direction Muriel had come from. As soon as the bear disappears, he wheels around to face her.

“What were you thinking? Why did you just stand there?” he asks, his voice gruff. 

“I was trying to remember what you’re supposed to do if you see a bear!” Willa folds her arms defensively and meets his eyes, determined not to be the first to look away. Muriel returns her stare for a moment, then sighs and throws the sticks on the ground. 

The wolf moves forward to sniff her hand and Willa lets it, not afraid now that she knows the animal means no harm. The wolf begins to lick her and Willa laughs, taken aback by its friendly behavior. “Well aren’t you just the cutest! I’ve never met a wolf before!”

“Inanna, come here,” Muriel calls, and the wolf gives her one more lick on the hand before trotting back over to his side.

“Is she yours?” Willa asks, trying to be subtle as she wipes wolf slobber onto her jeans.

“She’s a wolf, she’s not mine,” he clarifies, giving Inanna a pat between the ears. 

“Thanks for your help! Nadia said there have been bear sightings in the area, I just didn’t think I’d actually see one.” 

Muriel doesn’t reply and instead picks up the garbage bag to toss it into the dumpster. It takes him mere seconds to get the anti-bear latch open and Willa laughs, drawing his attention back to her.

“You made that look easy, I guess those latches are Willa-proof too!” Willa jokes. Muriel looks at her a bit blankly, the joke missing it’s mark, and she coughs awkwardly to fill the silence.

“If you see a bear again don’t freeze like that, make a lot of noise to scare it off.” His eyes are glued to the trees as he talks, and Willa notices that he’s got his hands shoved into his pockets as if he’s cold. It is rather chilly at night, Willa is wearing a jacket and a knitted scarf and still feels the cold. She decides she wants to knit something for him, it’s the least she can do after he’d saved her from a bear.

Willa takes a step closer and bends down to pet Inanna. The wolf nearly knocks Willa over in her excitement to get her ears scratched and Willa laughs as she takes a seat on the ground. Innana lays down next to her, tail wagging. Muriel looks startled at Willa’s closer proximity but doesn’t move away. 

“You should keep your distance.” 

“From you or from the wildlife?” Willa asks, looking up at him with a grin.

“Both.” 

Willa gives Inanna one last pat and stands back up. She glances up at Muriel and turns her head to the side as she looks him up and down. “Hmm, you don’t look very dangerous to me. In fact, I’d say you look pretty nice.”

Muriel’s expression is startled, and she’s pretty sure he’s blushing under her scrutiny. “Nice?” “Yes, nice! You have a friendly face,” Willa says, resisting the urge to poke his cheek with her finger to punctuate her point. She doesn’t think he’d take well to spontaneous physical gestures. 

“I don’t think anyone has ever said that about me before.” Muriel shakes his head in disbelief, his tone somewhere between confusion and surprise.

“Well it’s true.”

“You’re weird.” 

“Thank you,” Willa laughs, the sound turning into a snort, “I’ll take that as a compliment.” “Yes, definitely weird,” he mutters, shaking his head again, “But you have a… friendly face… too. I guess.” “Thank you,” Willa beams at the compliment.

Muriel moves his hand out of his pocket and pulls a flashlight out. “You should get back, it’s not safe out here.” 

“I can take care of myself,” Willa grumbles, she hates to be underestimated.

“I never said you couldn’t, it’s not safe for anyone to be out alone at night.” Muriel holds the flashlight out to her, “Here, take this with you. So you don’t trip or anything.”

“Are you sure you don’t need it?” She takes the flashlight from him, and his hand dissapears back into his pocket the moment she’s taken it.

“I know my way back.” 

“Alrighty then, I guess I’ll be going.” Willa takes a step to the left towards where she thinks the camp is. She turns over her shoulder to smile at Muriel, “Thanks again for the whole saving me from a bear thing.” 

Muriel simply nods and watches her start to walk away. “You’re going the wrong way,” he calls. She looks up at him in surprise and he points off to the right, the correct direction. He almost looks like he’s amused, but Willa decides that’s probably a trick of the light.

“Right, of course. I totally knew that,” she blushes, thankful for the darkness of the woods. She turns the flashlight on and walks to the right, giving Muriel one last glance as she passes. “You know you can join us if you want, at the campfire I mean. I’ve heard you’re good at roasting marshmallows.”

“No.” Muriel frowns at her and her smile drops. 

“Maybe another time then?” she suggests, not sure why she’s so disappointed at his answer.

“Maybe.”

“Goodnight, Muriel.” She gives him a little wave with her free hand and begins the walk back to camp, hoping nobody has noticed her disappearance.

Muriel remains silent as he watches her walk back to camp. When he’s sure she’s on the right path he heads back into the woods with Inanna at his side.

“Goodnight, Willa,” he says, though she’s too far away to hear him.

✧

#chapter 2!!! #i am currently driving through the middle of nowhere praying to the tumblr gods that this will post sdfskdj #my google search history after this chapter: how to scare away bears #pretty sure muriel's advice is accurate but don't hold me responsible if you meet an angry bear lol #willa wednesday #willa clary #apprentice willa #milla #muriel the arcana

[seokjinsdisciple]

It’s a Deal- three

supernatural! johnny x reader x jaehyun,  mate!au

its heating up my friends and boy is the plot gonna be spicy

Word Count: 1.6k

warnings: language, supernatural stuff

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series masterlist

You had decided that whatever happened yesterday was just a dream, some sort of midterms week hallucinations. And you were never, NEVER, going to think of them again. You had to attribute it to a momentary lapse in sanity, because nothing else would be able to explain the absolute shitshow that was yesterday, and to be honest, you didn’t really want any explanations. 

So you continued on with your day as you normally would. You worked your shift at the cafe, attended your classes, and nothing happened. You were relieved. You felt the tension that had been building up in you all day long ebb out. 

It happened when you were walking home from your last class. You chose to go through the student center, the chill of the night air enough to drive you inside. Something you never allowed yourself to do. You liked walking outside, but tonight, you felt an inexplicable pull towards the student center. 

You saw him near the dining hall. He was leaning against the wall and when he noticed you staring he smiled. It was a stunning smile, and it showed his dimples. He chuckled a bit as you stared, walking towards your frozen body. He drew looks from everyone around, and you felt your heart swell with, what was it? Jealousy? Pride? After all it was you he was walking towards. You couldn’t hide your grin as the people around you looked you up and down in shock.

He was in front of you before you could take a deep breath. And now you were stuck breathing in his heavenly lavender scent. It was intoxicating and you were overwhelmed. 

“Long time no see,” he giggled, his dimples deepening. You swear you melted, his giggle and his dimples probably the most adorable thing you had ever witnessed.

 “That’s something humans say, right?” he asked quietly, taking a quick glance around. 

“Yeah some people say that,” you smiled back, “What exactly are you doing here? Don’t you have… I don’t know, prince stuff to do?”

“I do,” he smiled, “but I quite like pissing off my father, and enrolling here also allows me the pleasure of pissing off my brother.”

“Wait- you enrolled?”

Jaehyun just shrugged and nodded, like enrolling in college was some simple thing. Oh my god. The money he had to have spent to enroll, and to not even want to learn something! You could never imagine wasting that much money, let alone even having that much money. 

“Why do you look so worried, pet?” Jaehyun said, intertwining his hand in yours and pulling you brusquely through the student center, “Hurry, we’ve got an important event to attend.”

“What event?” you asked, “Jaehyun, where are we going?”

He ignored your questions, mischief in his eyes as he lead you to a part of campus you had been avoiding all day, the quad where you knew the portal to the faerie world lay. Knots formed in your tummy, nervousness seeping out of every pore of your body that Jaehyun had to wrinkle his nose at your now distressed scent. 

“Jaehyun I don’t wanna go there again,” you said, halting your movements, “You can’t make me.”

“That pet, is where you are wrong.”

With a flick of his thumb across your hand, and with his words making you more angry than you should be, he effectively distracted you just enough to go through the portal. Before you knew it, you were standing in front of the most magnificent palace you had ever seen. Your anger dissipated as you took in the pearly white stone mansion in front of you. You were in complete awe. 

Faeries loitering around the front gate bowed their heads as Jaehyun waltzed passed them, not even glancing in their direction. He was too busy staring at you. He couldn’t help but grin at your wonder, your mouth open in awe at the sight in front of you. He had to admit, the palace was exceptional, even if he hated every moment he spent in its walls. 

You took one look at your oversized sweatshirt and ripped jeans, suddenly feeling extremely unconscious. How could you enter a palace in such a horribly under-dressed way. 

As if he read your mind, Jaehyun chuckled, “Don’t worry, I picked out a dress just for you, pet.”

You just swallowed, touching the necklace that he had given you around your neck as you followed him through the palace into a decadent blue room. It was the most expensive looking room you had ever been in. Gold detailing on the walls and ceiling. The gold resembling trees, and animals and stars and so many other things. But the stars entranced you, their gold sparkling shapes looking too real to be painted. Plus, you could’ve sworn you saw one of the stars move. 

Your eyes fell onto a gown that was hanging in the corner, a gasp leaving your mouth before you could even control yourself. It was a beautiful gown, a dark navy blue that looked expensive as hell. You took one look behind you, to say something, anything to Jaehyun that would express how you could absolutely no way wear something that expensive, but he was gone. Several faeries stood at the door, their makeup and hair done extravagantly already. 

“Well what are you waiting for?” An older looking woman said with a smile, “Put it on.”

And you did. The dress was more than you ever expected, flecks of gold and silver shining as you walked. It looked like a piece of the night sky had been cut and made into a dress. You blushed as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Much more of your skin showing that you would’ve guessed just by looking at the dress hanging up. Then again, faeries were less modest than humans, so you supposed no one would notice the extra skin. 

The faeries crowded around you at once, hurrying to pull your hair up and do your make up. They were done so quickly you couldn’t believe it. The woman from before, smiled gently at you as she pulled out a golden headband adorned with gold metal stars. Your outfit completely taking you aback, I mean you looked like a completely different person. You looked like a fae. 

You took your appearance in, the past 30 minutes feeling like a complete dream. You had never been taken care of like this. 

You heard a cough from behind you, and turned quickly to see Jaehyun in an equally stunning emerald silk top. He smiled brightly as he took in your appearance. 

“You look magnificent, pet,” He bowed slightly, offering his hand out for you to take. 

“Jaehyun, I-,” you started, “Thank you for this, but I really can’t accept something so expensive, and for me to take all this time in your room, I shouldn’t.”

You were halted in the middle of your sentence by a laugh from him, “This room is far too simple to be mine, it lacks many luxuries and necessities. This is simply one of our guest rooms that I thought was perfect for you, along with that dress.”

“Still, you have to let me wear something else, or at least pay you back.”

This received a snort from the prince, “You couldn’t pay the price of this dress in your lifetime pet. So please, let me gift it to you. I picked it out with the thought of you, and would be so offended if you refused. I thought a dress of stars was perfect for someone with a galaxy twinkling in their eyes.”

Now, you weren’t stupid. You studied mythology and creatures everyday. But Jaehyun’s compliment had knocked you off of your game for just a second. Taking a deep breath, you tried your hardest to focus. Knowing if you were going to be indebted to him was important. 

“And do I have to give you something in return?” You asked, a sudden lump in your throat.

“Nothing is free here, pet.” Jaehyun smirked, “It’d be best to remember that tonight. You’ll be surrounded by very curious fae. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

You had a sinking feeling as you followed behind Jaehyun warily. The magnificence of the halls sterring your thoughts more towards their decadence, rather than the debt you now owed. You reached large white and gold doors, that Jaehyun pushed open with ease. Jaehyun pulled you into a banquet room filled with elegantly dressed fae, you left to follow behind him helplessly. The laughing and chattering subsiding at the Prince’s entrance. 

Jaehyun held your hand tightly as he guided you up the stairs towards the throne where his family were seated in their respective seats beside an older looking faerie. Jaehyun’s father looked you up and down once, before sending a chill down your spine at his words. 

“The court welcomes YN LN,  beloved betrothed of Prince Jaehyun, and future Queen of Longate Isle.”

You heard a gasp, and you genuinely didn’t know if it came from you. It took you a bit longer to process the words that were just spoken, but when you did, panic overtook you. You whipped your head towards Jaehyun, who was too busy thanking his father for him to notice. You felt a pair of eyes bore into the side of your face, whispers and gasps echoing throughout the room as the shock from the news spread throughout the room.  

“Consider us equal for the dress now pet,” Jaehyun whispered in your ear, a sly grin on his face. 

You looked at Johnny, realizing he was the one who had been staring at you intently. He was standing, a fact that he didn’t find as troublesome as his sister, who was desperately trying to pull him down by his pants. His gaze was wild and furious, and for a moment, you thought he was pissed at you. You quickly realized he was staring at Jaehyun with murder in his eyes. He cleared his throat, glancing away from his brother and towards you, his face paling the more the news started settling into his brain. 

His anger morphed into panic the longer he looked at you. Which made you wonder what the hell you had just gotten into. You were scared. You were mortified of whatever Jaehyun had planned. And you were pissed that yet another faerie tricked you into doing something that would change your life. Your fear was multiplied by Jaehyun’s one word whisper as he passed Johnny to sit down, your shocked frame falling into his lap easily.  

Jaehyun’s voice saying checkmate repeating over and over in your head. 

#jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun angst #jaehyun #johnny x reader #johnny angst #johnny smut #johnny scenarios #johnny fluff #johnny fanfic #johnny fic #supernatural!johnny #supernatural!jaehyun #supernatural!nct #nct supernatural au #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct angst #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct 127

[cilldaracailin]

The Show Must Go On

Hello my Tumblr Lovelys!

Random thing today but it was on the news that the dolphin I saw in Kerry last week was missing for two days and they presumed he had died... Turns out he hadn’t and was spotted this morning by a fisherman. Glad to hear he is still around! 

Anywhoo, I am back with the next story in the Robyn and Taron series.

Hope you all enjoy this one!

Suze x

*Disclaimer - I don’t know Taron and this is just fiction and for the purpose of the story, anything medical related, I research thoroughly before using*

1

“There is a great difference between worry and concern. A worried person sees a problem, and a concerned person solves a problem.”

Robyn was worried. When she stepped off the podium after giving her presentation on the Irish curriculum for Early Years Education at the childcare conference in Paris, she automatically checked her phone to see if Taron had messaged her about their possible dinner plans for the evening but instead of a message from him, she had five missed calls from Lyndsey and immediately rang her back. Once Robyn managed to talk to Lyndsey after her third attempt to call her, she heard the anxious tones of his publicist’s voice.

“He is hiding it from me Robyn but I know him too well and he has been burying it for at least two if not three days.”

Taken aback by how troubled Lyndsay was, begging Robyn to come and see Taron for herself, as he refused to listen to anything Lyndsey had to say, getting nothing but angry at her for even suggesting that he was sick. Robyn had apologised to Emma, explaining that something was wrong with Taron and she had to go. Thankfully Robyn knew once she had completed her obligatory presentation, she wasn’t really needed for the rest of the afternoon and Emma had told her to go, her manager knowing she wouldn’t have been able to stop her work colleague when it came down to anything to do with the Welshman and satisfied she had fulfilled her obligations for the Saturday conference, Emma was happy to let Robyn go.

Robyn wished she had worn her converse and not heels as she sat in the taxi on her way to the hotel where Taron’s current interviews were taking place as she had literally run from the conference centre to a main road in Paris to try and hail a taxi and now her feet were killing her and with her knees shaking with nervous anticipation, it wasn’t helping her poor feet. Neither was the dark navy pinstripe suit she wore and she was feeling warm and overheated in the back of the car, the Spring weather in Paris warm and muggy but the formal wear was necessary for the presentation she had been a part of and she wasn’t taking a detour to get to her hotel first so had to make do with the warm suit and high heels to go and see Taron.

She had followed Taron’s travels and promotion very closely through social media but also by talking with him as often as they could. The time difference when he arrived in Japan, had woken her during the middle of the night twice, Taron apologising profusely when he realised she had been sleeping but Robyn was happy to talk to him, listening to his excited tones which only increased as he finally got his hands on some fried chicken from Korea when his tour moved there.

He was even more elated when they visited China and the movie had received a wonderous reception from the critics and fans, telling tales of more food he had tired, hilarious games he had taken part in and staying up drinking sake and singing karaoke, which he paid dearly for the next day.

He was just as excited when he got to visit Sydney again and had filled Robyn in on all of the antics himself and Matthew got up to, even Colin joining in with the laughter during the trio’s day of interviews, Robyn smiling as she heard the happiness in his voice. Sure, he sounded a little tired but he was always in good form and full of animated chat, not even noticing at one point that once again he had woken Robyn up with the time difference until half way through their call.

She had watched every interview that had surfaced and laughed at his escapade’s with Colin, the older man rolling his eyes as the younger made a few jokes at his expense and frowned when some interviews focused on her relationship with Taron. During one particular table panel in L.A as a question was asked about them, she saw his eyes change colour so quickly and the pure annoyance he was feeling clearly on his face, she thought he was going to storm off the stage. It was a horrendous and inappropriate question he was asked about their sexual involvement and if the CPR was just an act to cover for their long-term hidden personal relationship. With the way the panel had been cut together, Robyn was sure it was Lyndsey or Taron himself who put a halt to the questions immediately, the person who had asked the question completely over stepping their boundaries, as in the next part of the interview, Taron had taken his jacket off whereas before he was still wearing it. Robyn knew Taron was more than willing to talk about their relationship, even telling him to do it herself and not avoid the question but there was a point where even Taron felt under attack with questions he was asked and when he had spoken to her on the phone once they figured the time difference out, she could hear the frustration and irritation in his voice. She managed to get his mind off it by talking about her impromptu flour fight in work with the children, making him giggle and talk about the one they had had together which completely lifted his mood by the time they ended the call.

Naturally the travelling and constant working showed on his face and once the tour had moved to America, she could also hear the strain in his voice at one point ending the phone call she had with him because his voice sounded overworked and extremely tired and it wasn’t long before that over tiredness appeared on his face and although he tried to hide a yawn behind a cup in one interview for Good Morning America, Robyn easily caught it. It was his traveling around Europe during the end of his second week of promoting the movie that his change in mood and persona really and obviously transformed.

It was easy to know which interviews happened on the same day, Robyn using Taron’s clothes to judge which ones happened one after the other and the day he wore his blue cardigan and white t-shirt was the beginning of his complete personality turn around. It was before they had travelled to France, the tour stopping in Germany for a night. The once happy Taron became withdrawn and quiet, the dark circles under his eyes which were expected, now deep crevices on his cheeks making his whole face look hollow and almost sickly looking. Robyn knew Taron still gave his all even when he was thoroughly exhausted and always managed to keep smiling or make a smart remake, a laugh or a joke but he was giving nothing except robotic like answers, leaving a lot of the talking to Matthew as they sat together and he was constantly drinking from a bottle of water. Nothing new for Taron, the endless talking easily dried out his throat but the fact that he wasn’t talking and still milling the water into him was out of character for him. When Robyn had tried to call him, he didn’t answer the phone but text her back explaining he was completely caught up with interviews and promised to call her back when he could, though he never did, another text coming through apologising saying he fell asleep or got caught up with a photoshoot or question and answer session. Even their contact that day had been through text although it was pretty one sided as Taron had yet to answer her back about their dinner that evening. It had been three days since she had actually spoken to him and heard his voice.

So when Lyndsey had contacted her to tell her that Taron was sickest she had ever seen him, to the point where he was almost keeling over with a cough and not eating or drinking, Robyn didn’t hesitate to get into a taxi to go to him.

“He is cranky as fuck, refusing to listen to me and pretending everything is ok and while he acts like it is for the camera, off camera I can see how he is lying to me. He won’t listen to me, won’t stop to take a break, insists on ploughing through but his whole body is held in this stiff position where it looks like if he even moves an inch, he will crumble. I have seen Taron go through a lot, but I am really worried Robyn. He is pale, sweating, breathing hard and his voice is desperately hoarse.” Lyndsey took a quick breath. “There is only one person in this world who Taron will listen too and that is you.”

Robyn could hear the desperation in Lyndsey’s voice and the not so subtle hint that she really needed her to go and see Taron because he was being stubborn and surly and a typical man. When Robyn told Lyndsey that she would be there within the next forty-five minutes, Lyndsey was silent in shock for a few seconds before she thanked her profusely, telling Robyn she would be waiting outside the hotel for her and to ignore the fans outside.

Robyn had never even factored in the possibility of fans or the media waiting outside the hotel and as the taxi pulled up to the hotel, Robyn had no idea how she was going to pick Taron’s publicist from the crowd or even see her over all the heads in front of her. After paying the taxi driver, Robyn got out of the car and stood back allowing it to leave before she figured out her next move. There were security guards positioned at the doors to the hotel and the black cars out the front were obviously the ones laid out for the cast but as far as Robyn was aware this hotel was actually the same one that Taron was staying in that night, Lyndsey taking away some travelling for him by booking him into the same hotel where the interviews were taking place, even though it might not be the most luxurious one, it gave him more time to rest up after a full day of press.

As Robyn stood behind the crowd, she took a breath and walked around to the left edge of the footpath and gathering of people, hoping to find a gap that she could get through so she could try and get a glimpse of Lyndsey but she was having no luck and as she manoeuvred through the fans and group standing outside the hotel, even though she didn’t speak French, she could understand the points and stares that were coming her way and was starting to feeling slightly uncomfortable at being noticed, really feeling at a loss of not seeing Lyndsey immediately and becoming more desperate to get to Taron. She was normally comforted by his hand when she was in a crowd like this, especially a crowd that was becoming more aware of what she looked like and who she was and the fact that she was standing there in the open made her heart flutter a little with nerves and she could definitely hear her name echo through the all the people standing around her. It was only when she blinked as a flash went off that she realised not only was the assembly of people filled with fans but with some press and media and another blinding flash went off in her direction. That flutter soon became a harder thump and she could feel herself getting uneasy as more people started to recognise her and whispered her name, more photo’s being taken of her as she stood frozen on the footpath.

She jumped a little as her phone rang. She pulled it from her large handbag and was glad to see it was Lyndsey.

“Hey I am outside.”

“Me too. I can’t see you.” Taron’s publicist still sounded distressed; her words spoken fast.

“I am behind the crowd.”

“Come around to the right side of the fans and media and I will get you through.”

Robyn listened to the end call tone and with Lyndsey ending the call so quickly, Robyn was beginning to fret now too. Lyndsey always appeared with a calm and collected persona, her focus on her job but now she sounded completely frazzled. Robyn made herself walk calmly around to the right side of the crowd again and managed to squeeze herself in through the people, ignoring the looks of animosity she was receiving from the young girls and the whispered of French around her, standing right in front of the barrier that blocked everyone from the hotel entrance.

“Robyn! There you are!” She looked up to see Lyndsey practically running towards her with a security guard on her heels.

He got the crowd to move back quickly, speaking rapid French and once there was enough room, opened the barrier to let Robyn in, Lyndsey grabbing her hand and pulling her hard away from the crowd and towards the hotel, without even a hello or hug as she normally greeted Robyn with. Even with her back turned to the throng of media and press, Robyn could see the flare from a camera flash roll over her and hated that her picture was being taken in such an underhand way but as Lyndsey had a very tight grip on her hand she didn’t really have a lot of time to think about it too much, especially when Lyndsey started to speak in hurried words to her.

“I have never seen him like this. Sure, I have seen him run down and ill. Always comes with the promotion but he is just so withdrawn into himself, almost forcing himself to hold in how shit he feels. I couldn’t tell you the last time he ate something and in-between interviews, his whole body is completely consumed by this horrible cough. He won’t listen to me and actually bit my head off this morning when I told him he needed to skip today and rest up but he was having none of it.”

Lyndsey was still pulling on Robyn’s hand as she spoke and Robyn was finding it hard to keep up with the pace, her heels clip clopping loudly as they rushed in through the doors of the hotel, past the reception and towards the lifts.

“Ok Lyndsey, slow down.”

“He is really sick Robyn and I am so worried about him.”

“I know that but you need to take a breath for a second. You are starting to panic.”

“He won’t let me help him. Taron always lets me help him. Always.”

Robyn turned to face the older lady and placed her hands on her shoulders, seeing in her eyes the concern as clear as day. “And you know how stubborn he can be especially when it comes to his work and please take a breath for me.” When Lyndsey gave her an exasperated sigh, Robyn frowned. “Do it.” She said a bit more sternly, glad to feel her shoulders rise under her hands. “One more.” Robyn insisted and when the lift doors opened, Lyndsey had calmed down considerably.

“Sorry.” Said Lyndsey as they stepped into the lift and she pushed four on the keypad.

“You don’t have to apologise.” Robyn moved to stand beside her in the lift. “I know how much you care about him, so naturally when he acts out of character you are going to worry about him.”

“He normally listens to me.”

“What about Matthew?”

“No luck either. Got the same very angry and irate answers back. I am hoping maybe you can get through to him. You don’t know how glad I am that you were able to come, that you are here at the same time as he is. You were ok to leave work?”

“Yeah it is fine. I was finished my presentation so I could leave.”

Once the doors of the lift opened, they were met with another three security guards but as Lyndsey flashed her pass their way, the two were let through and Robyn followed the publicist down the carpeted hallway following the signs for conference room four.

“They are in the middle of an interview but due a break afterwards for some food before they continue again.”

“How long has he been working today?”

“Since six this morning.”

“Six this morning?” Exclaimed Robyn. “It’s nearly five in the afternoon. Please tell me it’s not been constant!”

“Mostly. They had an early morning TV show followed by interviews, then a photoshoot for a magazine and then himself and Matthew have been here since eleven going through the French press one by one. There are others here from other European countries too so it is pretty full on for him.”

“What time is he due to finish?”

“It should be seven but everything is running behind because some of the interviewers needed help with translation and they are taking up extra time.”

“Did he sleep last night?”

“My gut feeling is no but of course he told he me did.”

“Of course he did.”

Lyndsey stopped outside a pair of double doors, another security guard standing outside on watch. “She is with me.” Once they were through the door, Lyndsey gestured to Robyn to keep quiet and they walked to a screen behind which they could stand to watch Taron and Matthew who were sitting in the middle of an interview.

Even though Robyn knew she had to keep a low profile and not be seen, she still side stepped a little so she could see him better and immediately her heart dropped out of her stomach. It was the worst she had ever seen Taron look and that was including the first time she met him. He looked thoroughly exhausted, his face completely miserable even though he was trying to hide it with the fakest smile she had ever seen on his lips and the laugh he gave was so forced, it made Robyn cringe. She had never heard him laugh like that before and as he lifted the bottle from between his legs to take a sip of water it was either to avoid answering the question that was asked or as Lyndsey had said, to hold in the cough that was desperate to leave his body and his shoulders shook with the struggle of keeping the cough in. She could also see how Lyndsay had explained how he was holding himself too and Taron sat so straight in the chair, it looked so unnatural and uncomfortable. After holding the bottle to his lips but obviously not drinking, Taron eventually took his turn to answer the question, his voice quiet and Robyn could hear the scratchiness with which he spoke and how gravelly he sounded.

“See what I mean?” Lyndsey whispered to her. “Not himself at all.”

Robyn nodded. “But is doing a very good job of trying not to show how shit he actually feels.” Her eyes were glued to Taron. She knew the tour was going to be tiring on him but she couldn’t get over how wretched he looked, incredible black rings under his eyes, eyes which normally had a little sparkle, were dull and lifeless and she could see the effort it took him to answer an easy question, the short breathes he took to counter the cough he was covering. His cheeks were not the rosy red she loved to see when he was slightly embarrassed but more red raw from a high temperature which she was sure he had as along with his red face, there was a clear and obvious sheen of perspiration of his skin. Robyn wasn’t surprised to see the heat on his skin as he was dressed in a leather jacket, jumper and she could also see the collar of a shirt peeking through.

“How long until they are finished?” Robyn turned to Lyndsey.

“About another five minutes or so.”

“Anyway I can interrupt it and stop it?”

Lyndsey smiled sadly. “Wish you could and would love to let you but it’s best we let them finish. He is already going to be mad at me for ringing you to come over.”

“Let him be mad. I can handle him.”

“And that is why I knew I could call you. He needs you Robyn. He will always need you.”

Robyn didn’t answer but turned back to Taron and just wanted to walk over and hug him tightly against her until he gave in and accepted that he was quite obviously ill, just as Robyn predicted he was going to get back on St Patrick’s Day and it hurt her so much that he felt he had to hide how crappy he felt and put up a front for work, to keep working and not even attempt to take a break, to give himself a break, only working himself past the point of exhaustion and pure illness putting his body completely to test.

As Taron sat in the chair half listening to the questions he was being asked by an interviewer from somewhere in Europe, he couldn’t quite remember where, he shivered violently. He had been feeling cold all morning and even after he had pulled on his jacket, he was still frozen. He had been desperate for a coffee to try and not only wake himself up but warm his body up but he couldn’t stomach it or even attempt to swallow it. His throat felt like it was covered in razor blades and every swallow was painful. He had been feeling a bit rough since Wednesday and he woke up with a headache and scratchy throat and although he had been eating paracetamol to try and lift his cold, it hadn’t been helping and now he felt ten times worse, his whole body filled with aches and pains and what was making everything hurt even more was the horrible chesty cough he had been cursed with. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before, up most of the time coughing uncontrollably and every time he lay his head down on the pillow to try and sleep, his whole chest seized up once more and he had to physically get out of the bed and stand up, hoping it would help ease his cough but it never did and at one point he was holding onto the desk in the room as he tried to catch his breath, his whole body convulsing painfully. In the end he had to sit up in the bed and sit up straight and it was uncomfortable for sleeping. During the day he had tried his best to hide the cough, swallowing it down or making an excuse to go to the bathroom where he hid in the cubicle until his fit of coughing was done but it left a sting in his ribs and any deep breathe only brought the cough on so he did his best to avoid any movement that would rustle his upper body, keeping his posture held tight and firm.

He knew he had been a rotten mood since yesterday and felt awful for taking his sulkily temperament out on Lyndsey but the tour was so important to him even more so because the filming had to be halted due to what had happened to him in Florida in the first place and he wasn’t going to miss any interviews because of a small cold. Lyndsey had been on his case since that morning about taking the day off and staying in bed but he couldn’t do that. He had too many responsibilities to follow through with and after he had taken more pain killers, which scraped and burned his throat horribly, he put on a brave face and used his best acting skills to hide how rotten he was truly feeling.

He had such an amazing time on his promotional tour before he started to feel sick and had enjoyed every moment, even the travelling which would normally bring him down when he was over tired and severely jet-lagged didn’t bother him as before. He was putting it down to the fact that every day, even if he got the time difference wrong, he spoke to Robyn and filled her in on the excitement of the day or his annoyance at the nerve of some of the interviewers asking certain questions about their relationship, really overstepping their privacy boundaries. He had laughed and joked and been as proud as punch promoting his new movie, both himself and Matthew bouncing off each other as they sat on early morning TV shows and Q&A sessions and panels and the whole tour had been absolutely perfect.

That was until he started to feel absolutely shit and the more he sat on the chair under the heat of the lights which normally made him sweat, he felt bitterly cold and found it more difficult to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing as he worked on repressing the need to cough.

“What would you do Taron?”

He had been focused on trying to rub some heat into his frozen hands, he missed the question asked to him and looked up.

“Sorry?”

“If you were faced with the same situation liked Eggsy where he had to shoot his dog? Do you think you could do it?”

While Taron’s mind cursed the question, he forced himself to smile and try to be good natured with his answer. “Definitely not but if it was a life or death situation or to save a family member or a friend, then I guess I would.”

“Even Robyn’s?”

“Sorry?” Taron couldn’t help the edge to his voice, his pounding head and pain behind his eyes not helping him even try to act professional as her name was mentioned.

“If Robyn’s life was in danger, would you shoot the dog.”

“What kind of a stupid fucking question is that?” He spat angrily, taking both Matthew and the interviewer by surprise. “What do you think? She saved my life but I would give up hers for a dogs? Fucking bollocks.”

“And that is time on the interview.” Lyndsey walked over to stand in front of Taron. As soon as she heard the complete change in Taron’s voice, she knew he had had enough of the interview and needed to see a friendly face in the form of Robyn, Lyndsey praying the Irish woman could help him see sense. “You did get the little memo beforehand about the questions about Robyn.” She said to the interviewer. “And your time is actually up. Thank you very much.” Lyndsey turned to look at Taron and he was scowling at her. “Get that look from your face Taron. I know you feel like shit but there is no need for the attitude you are giving me.”

“I am fine.” Taron retorted, his blocked nose making it hard for him to fully pronounce the word ‘fine’. “And if they are going to talk about Robyn like that, I am going to react.”

“First off Taron, you are not fine and secondly you cannot get up on your high horse and go off on one whenever her name is mentioned. You know this.”

“Fuck off Lyndsey. I am fine. Just need some air from all of this shit.”

“Taron!” Robyn had been listening behind the screen and nodded to Lyndsey when she walked away to quickly to put an end to the interview. Inside her heart had soared to hear him talk so protectively about her even though she knew she probably should have been mad at him for his reaction and how he responded to the question but when she heard his angry words to Lyndsey, she wouldn’t have him treat his publicist in such a way and Robyn being Robyn couldn’t help herself and had to interfere, marching around the screen and over to where he was sitting, standing right in front of him. She immediately saw the surprise look in his tired and blood shot eyes, his features changing quicker than a finger click from infuriated to disbelief. “You do not talk to Lyndsey like that.”

Everyone in the room froze, when the young woman walked with purpose right onto the make-shift interview set up and stood in front of the lead actor with her hands on her hips, a definite scowl on her face and not only because of her sudden appearance but because they knew who she was.

“Robyn!” She could hear the pain it took him to exclaim her name and how gruff it sounded, his voice completely losing its tone before he had finished speaking.

Taron’s whole face switched from anger to surprise to relief as Robyn stood in front of him, dressed in another stunning fitted pants suit and he suddenly forgot what he was angry for but seeing the look of disappointment on her face, his head hung to his chest, remembering how he had spoken to Lyndsey feeling completely ashamed with himself. As he let his body flop a little back in the chair, he wasn’t holding himself as he had been and the strength at which he had been using to cover the cough left him and his whole body crumbled forward with fatigue as he was hit with a severe and brutal fit of a burning cough from his chest and as he over balanced on his chair, finally fully giving into how he truly felt, he expected to hit the floor but instead a strong pair of arms caught his left arm while a very familiar pair went to his shoulders to help keep him upright.

Robyn knew her sudden presence had the people in the conference room talking to each other in quiet French but when she dropped to her knees to catch Taron before he fell forward off the chair, she had definitely heard the gasp from those around her, glad Matthew had also reacted quickly grabbing Taron’s left arm to keep him upright too.

“I’m sorry.” Taron spluttered through painful spasms of coughing. “Lyndsey I am so sorry.”

“Shhh don’t talk.” Robyn gave his shoulders a slight rub, feeling them violently shake under her hands as he coughed. She thanked Matthew as he helped to make sure Taron was sitting by himself and she knelt up, in-between Taron’s legs putting her right hand straight onto his forehead and immediately became more concerned than she already was. As she predicted he had a temperature and as she moved her hand around to the back of his neck, Taron’s skin was on fire with an obvious fever and not only was his skin over heated, it was definitely covered in a layer of perspiration and Robyn wasn’t surprised as he was dressed in more layers of clothes than she had ever seen him wear.

“Robyn?” Lyndsey came to hunch down beside her, so glad that Taron already seemed to be admitting defeat to how he was feeling, immediately letting Robyn in to help him but she saw the look of worry increase on her face.

“I need help to get this jacket off him.” She answered moving her hand from his neck and as she went to slide the leather off his shoulders, Taron’s whole body was stricken with another horrible wave of coughing and within seconds, his face had turned red and Robyn could see the pain in his shattered facial features. “Shh Taron shh.” Instead of trying to take his jacket off, Robyn wrapped her arms around his body and pulled him to her, taking all of his weight as he slumped against her, his arms by his side, as she gently rubbed his back round and round in soothing circles. “Shh Taron.”

Matthew had stood up and was standing behind Robyn, ready to catch her in-case she lost her balance as she held Taron but she looked extremely steady on her knees, so he moved to stand beside Lyndsey.

“She came.” He said to the woman who stood with her eyes glued to Taron and Robyn. Lyndsey had told Matthew in-between their interviews that she as going to call Robyn and although he couldn’t say he was surprised to see her, the woman having flown to New York for Taron, he was definitely relieved. He had watched Taron suffer in silence over the last three days and though had tried to talk to the younger man and help him, he was being his usual stubborn self and refusing to listen. Thankfully there was one person, apart from his mother, who Taron listened too and she was currently holding him tight in her arms, whispering to him.

“Of course she did.” Lyndsey confirmed. “She would do anything for him and I knew as soon as he saw her, he would do this.” Lyndsey didn’t really know what to do as she looked at the two in front of her, if she should go and help Robyn but with the two locked in a tight embrace, more so Robyn holding Taron, she didn’t want to move them until Robyn was ready to.

They both watched as Taron finally let go of everything he had been holding in and he sounded terrible, even worse than Lyndsey had imagined. She had never known Taron to be so secretive about his health before, always being open with her if he had a headache or needed an extra shot of expresso to keep him awake because he had slept badly the night before but for some reason he felt the need to keep it to himself how sick he was really was and as she watched Robyn whisper to him, Lyndsey was so thankful for the Irish women who held Taron’s heart in her hands.

Taron felt like he was dreaming and found it so hard to believe that his wonderful Robyn was in front of him. He literally collapsed into her arms and had nothing but trust for her to catch him and she did and he clung to Robyn, his head on her shoulder and he couldn’t even bury his face in his usual comforting spot on her neck as he was consumed by the pain in his chest and ribs from coughing and he was so caught up in how dizzy and poorly he felt that he hadn’t even properly processed how she was in front of him holding him but there she was, rubbing his back with one hand, her other at the base of his neck.

Robyn could feel her legs shaking as she took all of Taron’s weight but she didn’t dare let him go or ask him to move. As he leant against her she could feel how the horrendous cough travelled through his whole body and not only feel it but hear it too and the rattle in his chest was worrying to her, especially at how long it took for the current bout of coughing to end. Once he had caught his breath, she felt him almost throw his face into her neck and she could feel the laboured gasps for air he made against her skin. She moved her right hand into his hair and cupped the back of his head. “Don’t take deep breathes Taron. Just little shallower ones. Too deep and you will cough all over again.”

Taron always trusted Robyn and followed her advice, concentrated on doing the opposite of what he was used too when he was feeling panicky or his anxiety rise and the quick little intakes of air helped him a lot. As he closed his eyes and breathed Robyn in, he felt her hands move from the outside of his jacket and right under his clothes, her hands on the bare skin of his lower back above the waistband of his jeans and belt and the cold of her hands felt so wonderful on his skin and he moaned when she took them away.

“I need to get you out of this coat.” Robyn pushed her hands up and under his clothes as far as she could and once on his bare skin was met with a little dribble of sweat that dripped down his spine and his body was over heated and temperature ridden as it fought whatever bacterial virus it had picked up.

“I am freezing.” He whispered hoarsely into her neck.

“You have a temperature Taron so while you feel cold, your body is on fire. I need to get some of these layers off.”

Robyn looked to Lyndsey who was standing to her left and nodded with her head, glad that Lyndsey understood that she needed some help. Together, with Matthew helping too, they managed to slide Taron’s jacket down his shoulders and off his body, Robyn feeling a shiver run through him as he still leant against her.

“And jumper. Hun, I am going to have to get you to sit back on the chair.”

Taron moaned in protest at being moved but with no energy at the moment, he couldn’t object as he felt his body being gently moved back in the seat. He looked up to see Lyndsey beside him and he reached over to grab her hand. “I am sorry.” He croaked.

“You can make it up to me when you are not a pathetic sweaty mess and I can say I told you so.” Lyndsey gave his hand a squeeze. “You are bloody lucky to have Robyn in your life and I am glad you listen to her. You are never to let yourself feel this ill again Taron, do you hear me? This could have been sorted three days ago if you had of just been honest with me. You are so much more important to me rather than the bloody promotion and your health comes first before anything.”

With a pitiful nod, Taron brought his hands to cover his mouth as he took another fit of coughing and as his cheeks turned red once more, Robyn could feel his friends starting to panic. Without a doubt, Taron was very ill but he didn’t need to see those around him with worried faces.

“Lyndsey does he have a spare t-shirt or shirt?” Robyn was glad to see her nod. “Can you get it for me please.” Once Lyndsey had walked back behind the screen, she turned to Matthew. “Any cold water around?”

“Cold bottles ok?”

“Perfect.”

Once Robyn was sure Lyndsey and Matthew were distracted for a few minutes, she turned her attention back to Taron who was sitting slightly hunched forward with his eyes squinted closed. Now that he was finally given a break from coughing, she could hear once more how laboured his breathing was and the raspy rattle that was coming from his chest.

“You are a disaster,” She said to him, smiling slightly as he managed the tiniest of nods. “Do you know how mad I am at you?” He nodded again. “Is this why you haven’t actually called me since Thursday?” Another miserable nod came her way. Robyn shook her head. “Can I take this jumper off now?” Taking his next nod as permission, Robyn reached forward and holding the bottom of his jumper started to pull it up his body. “Arms up.” She instructed him, Taron listening to her and lifted his arms up above his head, giving Robyn the space she needed to get the jumper off him. Throwing it to the side, she couldn’t help the sigh that came from her lips. “And the shirt too.” He wore a light blue shirt under his jumper and Robyn deftly opened the buttons and pulled it down his arms and threw it to the side with the rest of his clothes. “Jesus Christ Taron. I am fit to kill you.” Robyn’s eyes glanced over his white t-shirt, sighing at the wet patches from where he had been sweating in his layers. She brought her hands to his face and once her hands touched his cheeks, he immediately leaned into them. “I am glad your mother can’t see you like this.”

Taron groaned, cringing as another cough filled his lungs, his throat on fire, his head feeling like it was going to burst. He could feel his body being guided into Robyn’s again and he couldn’t help but lean against her once more, relishing in the coolness of her neck against his right warm cheek but he shivered, feeling cold in the large conference room. He could feel Robyn’s hands running up and down his back and he felt too unwell to even care that the back of his t-shirt was soaked with perspiration or to even feel embarrassed when her fingers creeped under his top and ran in such delicate circles down his spine. He was exhausted in every possible way and his body was making it very clear that he had taken hiding how ill he was too far.

“Here Robyn.”

Matthew walked back over with two cold bottles of water.

“Thanks so much. You can just leave them on the ground beside me.”

“Here is a clean shirt for him too.” Lyndsey knelt beside Robyn with a fresh crisp black shirt in her hands. “What can I do for you.”

“I would really like to try and cool him down a bit. He is running a desperately high temperature.”

Lyndsey looked to her. “You can tell that just by holding him?”

Robyn smiled a little. “Kinda but if you feel his forehead, the back of his neck and then feel your own you will feel the difference immediately.” When Lyndsey hesitated, Robyn encouraged her by taking her hand and guiding it to the back of Taron’s neck, both Taron and Lyndsey reacting to the difference in temperature that they felt. “Now feel the back of my neck.” Robyn bent her head forwards a little and with her hair twisted up in a plait, Lyndsey had easy access to her skin.

“Jesus Taron is so hot.”

“I knew you always had a thing for me.”

It was a laughter that broke up some of the tense atmosphere around them but unfortunately the laughter turned silent as Taron was consumed by another round of coughing, moving completely away from Robyn and back into the chair as he brought one hand to his ribs and one to his mouth. He could feel Robyn’s hands on his knees which he was very thankful for.

“Robyn what can we do for you?” Asked Matthew.

“He really needs a doctor.” Robyn summarised quickly.

“No.” Taron spoke through a rough cough.

“Taron…” Warned Robyn.

“No doctor. I will be ok. Just need to…” He never got to finish his sentence and bent over with his head in his hands as a sharp pain pricked him behind his eyes and once again, he was catching his breath, rasping sounds coming from his chest. “No.” He said as firmly as he could manage. “I just need to sleep it off.”

The three stared at him before Lyndsey and Matthew turned to Robyn. In her heart, she knew he needed to see a doctor, the intensity of the cough she was sure would only be helped with an antibiotic but if Taron was already refusing to even talk about going to see a doctor, Robyn wasn’t going to waste time to convince him, Taron needing to accept that fact for himself.

“Right ok then well let’s get this t-shirt off.” Robyn had lifted her hands to the hem of his top but stalled and looked around the room to the crowd who had gathered around them. She hadn’t really noticed them before but now as she went to physically strip Taron, she could feel every pair of eyes staring at them. “Any chance we can have the room to ourselves for ten or fifteen minutes? Just to make a start on cooling him down? He doesn’t need a crowd around him.”

Lyndsey got to her feet and walked straight over to the event managers to have a quick word, while Matthew knelt beside Robyn, as Taron sat back in the chair again, taking some shallow breathes with his eyes closed.

“Do you have some magic or something? Maybe some fairy dust from the leprechauns? Can I borrow some for when we film the new movie?”

Robyn looked to him. “Magic leprechaun dust?” She questioned, reaching forward to hold Taron’s hands in hers. “What on earth are you on about?”

“You have this way about you when it comes to Taron, I am wondering if you give him something when he goes to visit you.”

“I do have a fairy fort in my back garden so I have access to fairy dust and magic mushrooms whenever I want. I slip some into the cookies I bake for Taron when he comes to see me.”

Robyn grinned when she saw confusion cross Matthew’s face and feeling a squeeze on her hands, turned to look at Taron who had a small smile on his too.

“Really?”

“Sure Matthew.” Robyn shook her head. “Fairy dust in the cookies,” She turned back to Taron as he cleared his throat a few times, watching as his eyes creased at the side. “Can you take a drink for me?” She asked him, frowning as he shook his head a little. “If you are going to refuse to drink anything for me, this is not going to work and I will be calling for an ambulance, never mind a doctor.”

Taron didn’t even need to look at Robyn to know how serious she was about calling the ambulance. “My throat is so sore.” He winced.

Robyn let go of his hands and placing her thumbs on his jaw, moved her fingers to his neck, feeling the swollen glands of an obvious sore throat. “Of course it is and yet you still won’t go and see a doctor.” Robyn picked up one of the bottles of water Matthew had brought her. “Small sips. You don’t take any water in; you end up in hospital.”

Reluctantly, Taron took the bottle from her which she had opened for him and bringing it to his lips, took the smallest of sips, his throat painfully dry.

“Is there anything other than water around?” Robyn asked, knowing the water probably tasted horrible to Taron at the moment. “Anything like a Lucozade?”

“I think they have something like that, hold on.”

While Matthew stood up and walked over to the refreshment table, Robyn took the bottle of water from Taron, much to his delight and as she screwed the lid back on, Lyndsey walked over.

“We have twenty minutes to ourselves. They are asking when the interviews are going to continue.” She spat shaking her head. “Absolute nerve of them.”

“And you did tell them they aren’t right?”

“I told them as politely as I could that these interviews would not be going ahead with Taron, today or tomorrow.”

“What?” Croaked Taron. “Lyndsey no. I have to do them. I need to promote the movie. Especially after the rush to get it finished on time.” The more Taron spoke, the more awful he sounded and Robyn could hear the ache in his voice. “I will change my shirt and continue on.”

Robyn knelt back on her heels, staring at him. “Are you actually serious?” She questioned him.

“What?” He asked, looking to her, wide troubled eyes looking back at him.

The extreme tiredness was so evident on his face and his scowl made it look so much worse. “You want to sit through another five hours of interviews when you feel like complete and utter shit, can barely talk, are crippled with a horrendous cough and have a banging headache?”

“The movie needs to be promoted.” He insisted, trying to hold in another cough that wrecked his chest.

“Taron you’re about this close to collapsing on the floor from exhaustion and how ill you are.”

“I have managed so far today without anybody’s help. I can keep going.” He insisted.

“I give up.” Robyn stood up.

“Robyn?” Taron asked, his voice breaking as he said her name.

“You know I love you and will always support you, but not this. I can’t watch you sit here hunched over in agony, barely able to drink anything or talk. You are sick Taron and incredibly sick with a stupidly high temperature that could easily become very serious but if you want to put your body through more interviews and answering questions by all means go ahead and do it, but I won’t stand or sit here and watch you do it.” With a quick turn, Robyn walked away from him and headed back towards the door she came through with Lyndsey.

“Robyn!” Taron got to his feet and though he was very shaky as he stood, walked after her as she strolled away from him, pushing past Matthew and Lyndsey who tried to stop him. “Please don’t go. Not again.” He took to a quick jog, every movement hurting him. He caught up with her and grabbed her hand. “You can’t leave me, not like this.” He coughed.

Robyn shook his hand away. “When you are finished the interviews, call me and I will come back.” Robyn picked up her bag from where she had left it on the floor. “I am going to sit downstairs in the bar until you are done.”

“You are serious about leaving me again.” Taron rasped.

“You seriously want to sit through another five hours of this feeling like you do?” Robyn turned sharply to him and gestured to the set up for the interview. He didn’t answer her, his eyes going to the floor. “I know how much this movie means to you and I understand how much pressure you felt for this promotion, how important it was for you to get it perfect. The filming was halted because of Florida but something happened that you had no control over and yet you feel so guilty over that and getting through these three weeks and doing it thoroughly and properly is everything to you at the moment.” Robyn took his hands. “I understand it Taron but it doesn’t mean that I can watch you do it, not when you are this sick and ill and I care about you way too much to watch you suffer through it. Another five hours of this and I guarantee that you will be in a hospital bed, on an IV line. You know where I will be if you change your mind.”

Robyn let go of his hands and turned on her heels away from him. It was a drastic and very unfair move to make on him but her reaction needed to be severe for Taron to see that she was deadly serious about walking away from him when he needed her. She had her hand on the door ready to push it open when he called for her.

“Robyn please.”

It was the hopeless and grave voice with the deep broken tone she had expected to hear and she quickly turned around to face him and dropped her bag onto the floor, her arms out to catch him as he stepped over to her and crippled over from tiredness. This time Robyn wasn’t able to keep herself and Taron standing and she didn’t know how she managed but eased the two of them to the floor, Taron’s face buried under her chin as they sat in a ball together on the floor, Taron’s hands gripping her arm tight.

“Don’t leave me.” He cried unhappily as he dug his face into her shoulder.

“I am not going anywhere.” She assured him as she stroked his left cheek. “Except to get you to bed.”

It was a tight cuddle, one that Taron needed desperately and as his body was crippled with another cough, Robyn laid her cheek on his head, feeling Matthew and Lyndsey stand close by waiting and watching for what was going to happen next. Robyn continued to soothe Taron with hushed words and feather light caresses on his cheek as he held her tightly. It was an awkward and uncomfortable position for both as Robyn knelt and Taron was half sitting and half kneeling against her and once Taron caught his breath, Robyn nodded to his director and publicist and the three got the exhausted Welshman to his feet and back onto the chair.

“Reverse phycology at its best.” Robyn explained to his publicist and director as they questioned her moves and words. “Works like a charm.” She pulled at the hem of his t-shirt and as Taron lifted his arms above his head, finally got the sweat ridden piece of cotton off him.

“Always were good at it.” Taron whispered as he shivered, now in just his jeans, goosebumps covering his upper body. “I am sorry and you are right. I need to go to bed.”

“And you had better remember that and no need to say sorry again. Let me cool you down a bit first before we move you to your room.” Robyn slipped off her own suit jacket and placed it on the ground beside her. She picked up one of the cold bottles of water and poured it over his white t-shirt, squeezing the excess water out so it dribbled onto her jacket and not all over the floor. Once she was satisfied with her home-made cold compress, she knelt up between Taron’s legs. “This is going to be cold Taron but it will immediately help to get this temperature down.”

“You mean how hot I am?” He asked hoarsely.

Robyn grinned at his attempt to smile. “We don’t need to fix that, just your body temperature.” She placed her left hand on his right cheek and placed the folded t-shirt on his forehead, seeing Taron close his eyes at the initial touch, feeling the shiver that ran through him. She moved the t-shirt down to his right cheek and then around to the back of his neck, Taron’s chin moving to his chest to give Robyn more space to cool him down. “You ok?”

“Cold.” He answered.

“Not hot anymore?” Robyn joked.

Taron’s slight laugh turned into a cough and his hands went to his chest and ribs. “Don’t make me laugh. It aches.” He closed his eyes as Robyn moved his wet t-shirt down his back and up to his neck once more before she took the t-shirt way from him. He then lifted his head and looked at her, Robyn’s focus completely on wetting his top again. She was wearing a light blue blouse with a V-neck and if he didn’t feel so rough and rotten, he knew he would be feeling something other than tired and ill. As she knelt in between his legs, once again looking after him, he couldn’t quite believe that she was there for him when he needed her the most and hated her way of making him see that he couldn’t carry on with the interviews and desperately needed to lay down and rest but she did it so well and he knew it was her way of showing she cared. His eyes still did a quite roam over her and his heart jumped as it always did, but he moment of joy was soon overshadowed by his cough and he brought both his hands to mouth. He felt Robyn’s wet hands on his shoulders and as always, he felt comforted by her touch.

“Just let me go over you once more and then we can get you settled in your room.”

Taron wished he had the energy to return a smart comment to her and his chin went back to his chest as she placed the wet t-shirt on the back of his neck again.

“Robyn what do you need?” Asked Lyndsey. Herself and Matthew had been keeping quiet, just watching Robyn look after their friend. Of course, they had heard the stories from Taron about Robyn, about her actions in Florida but to see it first hand, both gave each other a knowing look. There was definitely more than friendship between the two. Lyndsey walked over and crouched beside the Irish woman. “I can make a run to a pharmacy for you.”

“Please.” Robyn gently pushed on Taron’s shoulders, getting him to sit back against the chair and moved the cold compress to his forehead. “Paracetamol and cough bottle for a chesty dry cough and lots of tissues and where the nearest doctor is.”

“No doctors.” Taron murmured.

“And where the nearest doctor is and if they do call outs on the weekend.”

“No doctors.” Taron repeated though he knew he was being ignored as his publicist and best friend spoke in hushed whispers. Through tired eyes, he saw Lyndsey walk away from them.

“I got that drink for you too Robyn.” Matthew now crouched beside her.

“Perfect.” Robyn thanked him. “Not that he is going to drink it.”

Taking the wet t-shirt from his head, Robyn threw it to the side and picked up the black shirt Lyndsey had left on Matthew’s chair for him. She draped it over his shoulders and helped Taron to get his arms in. Once the material was fixed on his frame, she buttoned it for him.

“Best we just get him to his room.” Robyn said to Matthew. “What floor is he on?”

“Seventh.”

Robyn groaned. “Of course, he would be.” She looked at Taron as he sat with his eyes closed, taking short breathes through his open lips. “And how many people would we meet along the way?” She asked herself. “You have a hat?”

Taron shook his head before he started to cough again, the throbbing behind his eyes increasing with each painful cough.

“Ok shh Taron.” Robyn placed her hands on his cheeks, feeling the heat on his skin and left them there until he had stopped coughing. “You poor chicken.” She said quietly. “Really putting yourself through hell.” She turned to look at his director. “Would you help me get him back to his room?”

“Of course.”

Robyn left Taron to grab her handbag and she stuffed her suit jacket and Taron’s clothes into it, actually slipping his leather jacket on herself. “Maybe this is something else I can add to my wardrobe.” She joked but when once again Taron didn’t take to laugh, she knew he was definitely feeling very unwell. She dropped in the bottle of Lucozade type sports drink that Matthew had given her into her bag too, needing something other than water for Taron to drink. “Anything else belonging to you around here?” She asked Taron, who was just sitting in the chair sad and completely deflated.

“No my phone is in my pocket.”

“Ok so let’s go then.”

Robyn looked to Matthew and they nodded to each other and taking an arm each, got Taron to his feet, who was very glad to have the support either side of him, even happier when Robyn slipped her arm around his waist, her grip on him tight and firm. He felt himself leaning more into her than Matthew and once again was so thankful for her in more ways that he could describe.

@fuseburner​ @hitmeonmytspot​ @primaba11erina​ @turkish276​

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Love #Friendship #Trust #Illness #Sick #Feeling Under the Weather #Cuddles #Manflu #Stubborn #Robyn and Taron

[artificialqueens]

A Road to Somewhere, Chapter 2 (Adore Delaska) - Puppy

Chapter Summary: After being rescued by this mysterious spirit, Adore gets to know the world of the bathhouse a little more and meets some interesting characters along the way.

A/N: I’m glad I’ve got this done. Wow. Again, I would like to thank @chaoticnachokitten and @thackeryisatop for beta-ing yet again. You are both very insightful; and I love having the extra sets of eyes.

I’m not sure how frequent these updates are going to be since I’m still in uni at the moment, but I hope you all still enjoy.

Chapter 2

Translations for this chapter:

“Lo siento” - I’m sorry

~~

In time, Adore found herself back at the bathhouse and tried not to throw up or get whiplash from how fast the two of them went. They had sped through alleyways, a brewery, and a few kitchens. She nearly retched seeing all of the raw meat that she passed, but she was allegedly a wanted woman. Why do something that would give her away so easily? She didn’t want to focus on that now. She was with a friend, and the bathhouse looked absolutely fantastic from where she was standing.

The bathhouse was practically glowing as the lights made way to revealing things she hadn’t noticed. She wondered if the train ever ran that late at night; would it startle the workers? A few frog-like spirits greeted guests who barely noticed that the two were even around. Adore recognized some of them from the riverboat. The woman opened the gate and the two of them made their way towards the bridge.

“You have to hold your breath when we get to the bridge. The tiniest breath can break the spell, then everyone will know you’re here. Sound good?” Adore nodded her head at the other girl’s request. “Great. Perfect.” They started walking and the redhead clung to her like a scared child. If she messed this up, who knows what would happen to her? Or her mom for that matter.

“I’m scared.” Adore confessed.

“It’ll be alright. Just… calm down.” In that moment, the blonde’s demeanor had changed. Adore felt her posture go stiffer and she walked faster as if there was somewhere important she needed to be. The two passed by one of the greeters. “I’m back from my mission.” She stated, refusing to make eye contact with the frog.

“Ah. Welcome. Welcome back, Madame Lask.”

That’s a strange name… Adore pondered on that as she took a deep breath, sealing it closed with her free hand over her mouth and nose. Then again, it wasn’t everyday that someone was named Adore, so she wasn’t quite one to talk. Lask and Adore crossed the threshold and the test began. It was a test of loyalty and of endurance, yet she was sure she only had one in her entire being.

Instead of overanalyzing the very breath she held, she decided to take note of the other travelers. Three large ducks waddled sometime behind them, standing out among the various other spirits. There was one that looked like a walking blanket fort that passed by, nearly knocking Adore off from her footing by the massive steps they took. The one in front of them looked like some sort of peddler with woven kitchenware dangling from its sides. However, the spirit to her left intrigued her the most.

A mostly translucent creature passed the two of them while keeping their gaze onto Adore specifically. Or were they staring at Lask? She did seem like an important figure in the bathhouse. Did she work there or was she some sort of manager based on her title? The only thing that she couldn’t see through was a mask the spirit wore. She couldn’t quite tell if it was a mask or if it was their face. In fact, the creature was completely shrouded in ambiguity. The more that creature stared at her, the more she longed to breathe.

“We’re almost there. You got it, kid.” Lask whispered. They were just about to reach the end of the bridge as Lask and Adore were being stopped by another spirit. She seemed like one of the humanoid ones from the boat, and she wore a simple blue kimono. If Adore had more time to think (and wasn’t instructed to hold her breath), she would have asked if she worked there.

“Lask! Where have you been?” She asked, coughing up feathers after every word uttered. The human gasped, removing her hand at the sight of the new arrival. It was partly because of the shock and partly because she was, in fact, spewing feathers everywhere. If she didn’t lose her breath there, then the feathers would have gotten to her, making her sneeze. The chicken spirit squawked, “A human!”

Lask held up her hand with a look of slight regret on her face. “Sorry Tox…” She whispered as she encased the other girl, who had now been transformed back to her original form, into a bubble. She hoped Tox’s beak wouldn’t pop it right away; she then grabbed Adore, quickly flying her to safety in the closest place she could find. “Let’s go. Now.” She whispered yet again as they passed by another group of greeters. The skirts of their hakamas blew from the manufactured wind. She opened a door, pulling Adore inside of another small offset garden.

The two of them ran to the ambient sounds of mayhem within the bathhouse. Sounds of spirits calling out for their superior, complaints of the smell, and clucking noises filled the air. It was almost too much for Adore to handle. Lask brought her behind a rather shapely bush hiding themselves from the chaos. “Fu-” She stopped herself, remembering she was in a professional setting now, “crap… They found out.”

“Lo siento, Lask… I fucked it all up.”

“No… you’re fine. You did your best. Now listen to me very carefully.” She put her hands on Adore’s shoulders: a comforting gesture. “You can’t stay here for long. They’re gonna find you and who knows what’ll happen. I’ll… create a distraction.”

“Wait, that’s the best you can do?” Adore stopped the spirit from getting up by tugging onto the girl’s kimono. “Aren’t you, like, some higher up? They called you Madame and everything… You could just write this off!” She stopped herself, becoming more aware of the volume of her voice. “Just… stay with me okay?

Lask sighed, wishing that she could. “I… I wish I could, but you have no choice if you want to survive. And save your mother.”

“So she actually turned into a pig… Damn.” Adore shook remembering the transformation, but she didn’t quite want to show her guide quite yet. She was thirteen; things like this shouldn’t bother her anymore. Her mother would have wanted her to be strong, so she did.

“Stay still, won’t you?” Lask didn’t give the human time to respond as she put two fingers to the redhead’s forehead. It was then Adore’s world went white. She could no longer see the lady in front of her as a series of images flashed through her head. They seemed to sync in time with what the spirit was telling her. “Now, when things quiet down, go out through the back gate. Go all the way down the stairs until you reach a green door. That leads to the boiler room. There you’ll meet Raja; they’re in charge of the whole thing.”

“Raja…” She repeated.

“Right. Tell ‘em you wanna work here. Even if they refuse, you gotta keep at it.  If you don’t get a job here, the Grand Witch Visage would turn you into an animal.”

Adore was taken aback for a second.

“She runs the bathhouse. Anyway, back to Raja. They’ll do anything they can to try to keep you away, but you just gotta keep asking. It’ll be hard work, but not impossible. Besides, you’ll get a place to stay for a while and she can’t hurt you if you’re under her employ. Sound good?” Before the human could respond, the workers’ panic started back up again. “I gotta go, but remember these things. I’m your friend, and you’re a good kid, Adore.”

“Wait.. how’d you know my name?”

“Believe it or not, I’ve known you for a while now. Good luck, Adore Delano. And whatever you do, don’t make any noise, y’hear?” After some nonverbal confirmation, Lask turned her attention towards the commotion as she emerged from the bush. “I’ll see to this.”

Another worker approached her, nearly panicking. “My lady, the Great Witch wants to see you!”

“Yes, about the mission, correct?…”

The human girl unlatched the garden’s back gate and sneaked out of view and into the further unknown of the bathhouse. She stared out into the vast darkness with ambient lights from behind giving her some sense of visibility. The end of the staircase seemed so far away. Someone had to have discovered her sooner than later, so she figured she’d get a move on. Adore clung to the railing as she thought about not falling off the narrow platform to the best of her ability. Their fears were soon heightened as she heard the train pass by. It seemed so much smaller from when she first saw it on the bridge; there was something about it that gave her a boost of inspiration though.

She gulped and inched her way towards the start of the staircase. “Fuck…” she whispered to herself. The stairs looked steeper than she thought; how did anybody even go down these without dying? I guess that’s how there’s so many spirits, the redhead thought, if that witch lady doesn’t kill me I guess this will. She chuckled to herself as she took the first step. Okay… one down: so much more to go. Adore sat on the step as she inched another foot down the jagged wooden staircase.

She scooted herself down a few more steps. As she reached her foot towards the next one, she nearly slipped, but she stopped herself. She clung to the step for dear life. The wind and the surrounding darkness covered the tracks behind her. There was officially no going back; her mother was a pig and this was the only way to get her back. Adore stood up, finally regaining her footing, but as soon as she went to the next step, it broke. It gave way and sent the human down flying down the rest of the staircase.

Adore screamed as she speedily scooted down the staircase. It almost made her wonder why she thought this was so fun in her youth. The younger Adore would almost travel down the stairs by scooting down, nearly irritating Bonnie in the process. There were so many things she took for granted. For example, back at the old place, there was no way of possible getting splinters in unthinkable places. Nor was the fact that there wasn’t really any way to stop her at this point. Even if she tried to stand from her current position, the momentum would just push her forward even more. Eventually, this adrenaline rush stopped when she crashed into a wall. Thankfully, she wasn’t hurt too badly.

The redhead peeled herself off of the cement and took some time to catch her breath. She stared at the architecture that nearly caused her demise and flipped it off ever so sweetly. She was about to curse that very staircase’s existence some more before being startled by the sound of an opening window.  Out emerged another spirit, she assumed; this one had shaggy, dirty blonde hair and a cigarette between her lips. Adore prayed that the kimono-clad spirit didn’t see her as she sneaked around a corner.

Oh great… more stairs. She looked down at the next flight, lamenting that her progress wasn’t done. It looked less steep than the other flights, and they were made of stone. There wasn’t any chance of it breaking or for the teen to go for another tumble. She hopped down the last few steps until she saw the forest green door. “This must be it,” she pondered before taking a few steps towards it. Feeling the heat of the boiler from the other side of the door, she opened with caution. She then made extra sure to close the door behind her; she didn’t want the cold to  come in.

Adore looked left and right, taking note of every steam powered mechanism in the hallway. She just wanted to stay there and bask in the warmth for as long as she could. Hell, she needed to get used to it now that she was going to be living in San Francisco. However, she needed to leave this realm of monsters and darkness in order to get her ride back. Also, she didn’t want to disappoint Lask, so she simply pressed on forward.

As she passed the machinery, she stood in the hallway noticing a large, oblong shadow around the corner. She couldn’t tell if there was more machinery moving about or if that moving figure was the mysterious Raja her spirit guide had mentioned. Adore peeked around the corner to get a better view of the figure. What she saw surprised her; it took her a while to take it all in.

An offset furnace opened its mouth mechanically as little lumps of coal seemed to gravitate towards the fires by themselves. Was this place enchanted too? She wondered as she looked closer at the bits of fuel. To her further surprise, they weren’t in midair at all. It seemed as if something was carrying them, Miniature balls of soot waddled back from the fireplace and grabbed more lumps nearly in time with the machine’s opening. Coal goes in; a creature comes out.

As for the one running the boiler, an arm reached for a pile of herbs in a nearby jar while two of them ground those herbs with a wide mortar and a rolling pin. Yet another arm scratched their head while ANOTHER one cranked a wheel behind them. The spider-like person’s hands, by the looks of it, were dark but had a bluish tint to them.This coloration spanned the rest of their body too. They used their free arm to tug on a token that hung in front of them. So that must be Raja then… Adore blinked dumbfounded, letting out an audible yet indistinguishable noise of confusion. It was then the two made eye contact, and the human seemed officially screwed.

Raja banged a small wooden hammer against their workspace, halting the process of the soot sprites. They tossed in the last of the coal and retreated back to their little holes in the back wall. Adore nervously stepped out of her hiding spot and approached the spider-like worker, who retreated into another job that didn’t require the constant furnace fueling. “Uhhhhhh, excuse me?” She called as she got within a few feet from the pedestal. They seemed to not have heard her as they continued grinding the herbs. “Are you Raja?”

“Huh?” The blue-tinted spider inspected the redhead for a split second before going back to their work.

“Uh… Lask told me to go to you and she said you could get me a job so…. Can you get me a job?”

Raja ignored Adore and continued with her business as more of the red tokens fell down. “Four of- what is going ON up there?” Raja pulled the tokens, and struck the hammer again to alert the sprites that their break was over. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting company this early,” They finally paid attention to the human who had constantly asked for her attention. “She’s right. I am Raja. The Grand Witch appointed me to the highest position of running the boilers. Step on it, fellas,” They now addressed their dormant coworkers. “You heard the hammer, didn’t you? Now get back to work, you piles of ash.”

“You… didn’t answer my question. Can you get me a job?” No answer.  “Come on! Please let me work here, goddammit!”

“Listen. I appreciate your moxie, kid, but I’ve got all the help I need.” The sprites emerged from their burrows and Raja pointed to them with one of their fingers while the rest of their hands manned their previous stations. “You’ve seen these, I assume. And what do they carry?”

“Coal… I don’t know why this is relevant?”

“I’ll get there. Now what does coal leave behind?” Before Adore could answer, they interrupted. “Dust, exactly. It gets everywhere. Now, I cast a spell on the soot and that gives me all the workers I need.” More of the spirits entered the space, surrounding the human at any chance they got.

“Now wait a second…” She started to protest as even more of the enchanted soot sprites emerged. They just had to maneuver around her if they wanted to get a smidge of work done, but they didn’t. The rocks collided with Adore’s ankles and the tiny workers squeaked their complaints, finally signalling her to move from her spot. She reluctantly did so and sulked in front of a long wall of cabinets.

“I know you just got there, but… you might want to scoot over. Preferably now.” Raja reached the cabinet with a tattooed arm and Adore subsequently rolled out of the way. She didn’t care if her pants or socks got dirty, but it wasn’t the best way to present to her possible job interview. She could do nothing but gawk at the boiler’s manager .The Latina could never fully take in how she was able to do all of that. How were they so organized and calm? However, she shifted her focus to how the spider-person treated her as if she was a fly that she didn’t quite have the guts to kill yet: a pest, but not a threat. She wasn’t going to save her mother any time soon, so she’d might as well stare at the flow of traffic from the enchanted ashes.

One of soot balls emerged from the hole, but it looked like it was having She severely underestimated the weight of the rock. “How strong are you guys?” Adore mumbled as she barely held the rock by her fingertips. “So should I, like, just leave shit here? I’m sure one of you’s gonna-”

“Finish what you started, human.” The boiler spider retorted, without even looking at the redhead. “You’re the one who wanted to work so badly.”

Adore wanted to give them the middle finger, but she might be hit with a good six of them back. Or maybe this spirit didn’t know the cultural significance behind the gesture. She didn’t want to risk it though, so she simply scoffed as she lugged the piece of coal, having been filled with a burst of determination. She trudged through the other soot balls, stopping them momentarily in their tracks before following the human. She nearly dropped the rock, but managed to catch it in time.

Five more of the enchanted workers were in front of her, lightly tossing the coal into the furnace as if they were nothing. It was now the young human’s turn to prove herself. She gingerly stepped onto the narrowed platform as she stared into the flames. She could easily take the heat (she’s from Azusa; she could stab someone on sight if she wanted to), but now she was wary of the embers. Right then and there was this California dreamer afraid of getting burnt. She closed her eyes and chucked the black rock into the open furnace and prayed that it got in.

   Adore caught her breath as she ran around a corner towards Raja’s workstation. She did it. This would definitely make the boiler manager proud of her. Her victory was short lived, as the other soot balls took notice. One came up to her sneakers and dropped the lump on its back; the rest followed in that same manner, slowly surrounding the human preventing her from leaving. In that moment, Raja swung their hammer.

   “You goddamn runts, do you want to be turned back into soot?” They were livid, as they then pointed their hammer towards the human. “As for you, young lady. I get what you were trying to do, but you need to watch it. You can’t go around taking others’ jobs in order to prove a point! You’re young. You shouldn’t even be here. Just.. go somewhere else. ” The soot balls did not think very much of that though. They raised their loads in protest and angrily squealed at the human, as if they were begging her to stay. “Do you guys have a problem with that?”

   The squabble was stopped by the sliding of a door hidden among the cabinets of herbs. Another woman emerged from the hole carrying a tray with a bowl of rice in one hand and a basket in the other. “Soup’s on,” she said, closing the door with her foot. She wore a salmon pink robe, a dark blue apron, and the same colored work pants; her black hair was in a neater updo than Adore’s. “Hey, don’t stop because I’m here. What were you all fighting about?” Her bare feet danced across the floor and brought the tray near one of Raja’s free arms. “And where’s your bowl from yesterday? I keep telling you to leave it out!”

   “Alright. Meal time. Take a break.” This excited the soot balls as they dropped their loads and scattered to the empty floor.

   “Gods forbid you take care of yourself once in a while.” She sprinkled some star-shaped candy on the floor where the smaller sprites took and ate them up. “And some of us have to wash these too, because why would the Grand Witch spend her money on employers’ well being?” The woman slowed her rant as she stared into Adore’s brown eyes. Both of them gasped at each other. “Oh. Gods. You’re the human everyone’s been looking for! They’re having a huge fit about it upstairs, and I get to hear the half of it and-”

“Don’t worry, Rio.”

“Yes. Don’t worry. That’s easy.” The other woman, Rio, retorted in that same vein of sarcasm used earlier. “It’s not like we have our lives on the line or anything.”

“She’s my granddaughter.. or maybe she’s yours! I think she’s got your eyes.” Rio rolled her eyes. “Anyway, my granddaughter says she wants to work here, but I’ve got the help I need. How about you take her to Michelle and-”

“Michelle?” Adore parroted, trying to hold back laughter. Was that seriously the name of the high and mighty proprietor of the house?

“Yep, that’s her name.” They continued as they took a bite of their food. “As I was saying, you take her to the witch. The kid’s tough enough to handle her, I bet.”

“And risk my life? No thanks.” Rio complained.

“How about if I gave you this?” Raja extended one of their arms and held a roasted newt, waving it in front of the younger spirit’s face. Her lips began to water at the smell of it.. “It’s fresh.. It’s quality…” Turning to Adore, the blue spider continued. “If you want a job, you’ll have to talk to Michelle. There’s no harm in trying.” The human nodded her head and smiled as Rio snatched the newt.

“Fine. You,” She addressed Adore, “come here and follow me.” The younger girl stepped over the coal pile and ran into Rio. “Aren’t you going to thank the nice person for sticking their neck out for you?”

“Oh… yeah… Thanks, Raja.” The human followed the older woman, heeling to her side.

“Now hurry up. You don’t need your shoes or socks here.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Adore set her shoes down, making the soot balls very happy as they found another home.

“I didn’t have to remind you that time. Good for you.” She smiled as she pulled Adore into the small from which she emerged. The redhead nearly bumped her head as she turned around. She waved goodbye to Raja who, in turn, gave a thumbs up of support.

“Good luck. You’ll need it.” The boiler-person chuckled to themself as they went on with their business. They could only wonder how the witch would react to that little firecracker.

#rpdr fanfiction #adore delano #alaska thunderfuck #adore delaska #detox icunt #raja gemini #bianca del rio #lesbian au #supernatural au #spirited away au #a road to somewhere #puppy #concrit welcome

[give-me-back-my-rhodey]

Love in an Underground Bunker - AU Day 5

Title: Love in an Underground Bunker

Author: Purple_ducky00

Prompted by @ironfamquotesincorrect​

Link Filled: U2: Secret Relationship of the Bucky Barnes Bingo

Rating: Explicit

Warning: N/A

Relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Tony Stark

Link: Read on AO3

Summary:  Tony doesn’t remember not living in fear. When his father was a young man, there was an uprising against the government. In turn, the government unleashed a highly toxic gas upon its citizens. The few who did not rebel were rewarded with palaces and mansions built on higher elevations to protect them from the gasses. They were transported in hover jets. Those who rebelled were forced to live on the ground, choked by the deadly gasses. Although the government committed genocide, some people had foresight, however, and built large underground bunkers. Howard had invented a device that filtered the gas out of the air. The rebels planted them in many places over the country. When the government found out, they began to send their AIM agents out to replenish the air with their toxic gas.

DISCLAIMER: THIS WORK IS NSFK!

++++++++++++

The air is bad. They have to find shelter, but they might not have enough time. The AIM agents are upon them, spraying them with the toxic gas that caused so much destruction in the first place. Tony trips on a rock, falling flat on his face and smashes his oxygen mask. The gas starts to fill his already weak lungs, and he can feel himself drifting… drifting… Suddenly the cool oxygen is back. He looks up to see a mask-less Bucky Barnes.

 “Stay there” Barnes mouths and spins around firing his weapon. Tony knows Barnes is superhuman, but even he can’t breathe too much of this gas, or he’ll die. Natasha slides in beside Barnes, taking down AIM henchmen one by one. As the AIM men fall, the gas rises. Pretty soon, it gets too high and Tony, Bucky, and Nat have to make a break for it. They reach their hideout before the gas overtakes them.

Bucky takes one step inside the bunker and collapses. Captain Rogers, the leader and Bucky’s best friend, runs over. “What happened? Where’s his mask? Tony, why do you have his mask on?” He roars. “What is the number one rule in this unit?” 

“Never take off your mask nor take another’s outside the bunker.” Tony mumbles. 

“Exactly.” Rogers snaps. “Now, Bucky could have died! He’s being taken to intensive care now. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry.” Tony looks Steve right in the eyes. “It won’t happen again.”

 “You’re damn right it won’t! From now on, you’re not cleared for missions. Your entire job is to repair broken armor and tech.”

 Tony wants to scream. That is not fair. All he did was trip on a rock that he couldn’t see due to the gas. They weren’t even supposed to be out that late, but Steve needed intel. And it wasn’t his fault that Bucky gave him his mask. What was he supposed to do – take it off and hand it back to Bucky? Then they’d both be suffering from the gas. Knowing it’s no use to argue, Tony sighs and turns to go to his quarters.  Exhausted from the long day, he gets a quick shower and falls asleep.

 ++++++

Tony doesn’t remember not living in fear. When his father was a young man, there was an uprising against the government. In turn, the government unleashed a highly toxic gas upon its citizens. The few who did not rebel were rewarded with palaces and mansions built on higher elevations to protect them from the gasses. They were transported in hover jets. Those who rebelled were forced to live on the ground, choked by the deadly gasses. Although the government committed genocide, some people had foresight, however, and built large underground bunkers. Howard had invented a device that filtered the gas out of the air. The rebels planted them in many places over the country. When the government found out, they began to send their AIM agents out to replenish the air with their toxic gas.

 The water is toxic, and the insurgents must rely on deep water wells for drinking and cleaning. Underground greenhouses with UV lights are used to grow plants. Animals are kept in paddocks as large as each unit can afford. Storehouses of canned goods are piled high. Each leader must set their own rations. Given that Steve had fought all his life, he set rations fairly.

Every day at 7pm, AIM agents are air dropped into the lowlands and spray more gas across the lands. Anyone who had to leave the bunker made sure they had a weapon and got back before 7pm. AIM agents are known for shooting first and never asking questions.

Last night, an AIM agent destroyed the SHEILD bunker transmission systems, so Steve’s unit was stranded with no comms. He sent Tony, Bucky, and Nat out to repair the systems. It was not an easy fix, however, and it took Tony a long time to repair the busted systems. By 6pm, he had the comms up and running functionally but not perfectly, but Rogers asked them to stay a little to perfect and camouflage them. By the time they had finished, it was 7pm and they had to avoid AIM agents.

Now, Tony’s sitting on his bed, wondering if Bucky’s ok. He would go sit by his bed, but no one knows he and Bucky are dating. The units don’t encourage relationships for a few reasons. 1.) They don’t want children running around the bunker. They understand that in order to survive for generations, they will have to reproduce, but they hope to make the world a little better before they do. 2.) People unfortunately are bound to die. Everyone should be unhappy, but they don’t want anyone unable to do their jobs due to grief. Steve is a little more lenient with his unit, but Tony knows Steve disapproves of him, he wouldn’t be happy to know his best friend is dating him. 3.) Close quarters. No one wants to hear anything.

Tony decides to check in on him, if only to see what he’s doing. Unsurprisingly, Steve is sitting beside Bucky’s bed. He looks up when Tony walks up to the open door. “What are you doing here?” He hisses.

“I just came by to see if he’s okay,” Tony blurts, taken aback by Steve’s animosity. He thought Steve would by upset, but not full-out angry.

Steve rises from his chair. “You don’t deserve to see him. He almost died!”

“So, Steve, I was running some numbers, and it looks like…” Howard stops at the door and looks up from his tablet. “What’s going on here?”

 “Your son almost got Bucky killed. Now he wants to make sure he’s all right.” Steve scoffs. “He wouldn’t have to if he had just kept his mask on.”

 Howard shakes his head. “When has Anthony ever been rational? He’s an idiot. Now, Tony, leave us so Steve and I can discuss.”

 “Whatever.” Tony throws up his hands. It’s not like he’ll get anywhere trying to argue with these two. Neither of them like him, and they’re just going to dismiss him anyways.

 Tony understands why Steve is so protective of Bucky. He was captured by the government at one point and experimented on. They wanted to turn him into an invincible mindless AIM agent that would destroy the rebellion once and for all. Luckily, Steve was able to sneak in, thanks to Howard and Peggy, and free Bucky. It took a while for Bucky to readjust to his life, and he was kept in isolation for a long time. Now, Steve freaks out if even the slightest thing happens to him.

 Slamming his hand against the wall, Tony groans and walks into his makeshift lab. He does most of the updating and innovation now. Howard used to but as his health is declining to his great dismay, he reluctantly passed the role off to Tony. Howard doesn’t hesitate to rip Tony apart any chance he can get, even if Tony’s update works excellently.

 He grumbles as he fixes up his mask. He’s going to make this thing nigh indestructible. DUME wheels over, cocking his claw as if asking a question. “It’s ok, DUME, it was my fault, but I’m just mad.”

 “Why didn’t you just tell Steve yours broke?” Tony jumps as he hears Nat’s voice from the doorway.

 “Gah. Nat, I have a condition!” He yelps. “You know he won’t care. It’s me. I’m always fucking up. I’m sure if it were up to Howard, he’d send me out without a mask to fend for myself. Luckily, Steve cares a little about human lives, even if he’s not a fan of the human himself.”

 Natasha walks in and pats DUME on the head. He squeals and wheels around in circles excitedly. Tony smiles. “He already has a crush on you. Don’t encourage him.”

“Tony. I know why you don’t want to make a big deal about it. You guys have been very subtle and sneaky, but I know. No matter what, you should tell Steve that your mask broke.”

 “I’m not going to. And you’re not either.” Tony points a finger at her.

 She smiles sweetly. “I dare you to stop me.” And walks out, closing the door behind her.  

 Tony groans again and bangs his head on the countertop. What is his life?

 ++++++

Bucky wakes up with a start. Tony is dying… or hurt… or… Bucky struggles to find air. It feels like someone just sucked out his lungs.

 “Bucky. Bucky. Hey, you’re safe.” Steve is there.

 He sucks in a large breath and starts to cough. “Where’s cough Tony cough? Is…” His sentence gets cut off by a series of hacking coughs.

 Steve waits until Bucky calms before he schools his face and says stiffly, “Tony’s fine. He should be the least of your worries. It’s his fault you got hurt.”

 “I had a dream that he was in pain. Is he here?”

 “It’s just the neurotoxins from the gas,” Bruce explains calmly. “Tony’s fine.”

 “I need to see him.”

 “Bucky, please. He’s fine.” Steve starts to argue, but Bucky just pleads.

 “Steve, you should know why I need to see him. Just… let me see him, please?” Bucky has told Steve about the nightmares he’d had after Steve rescued him from the government. Bucky would have to sleep in the same room as Steve so that he knew that Steve was still there, alive and well. A physical touch went a long way for Bucky after these nightmares.

 Steve can’t say no to the fear in Bucky’s eyes, so he calls for Tony to come to medical. Tony arrives a few minutes later, shifting from foot-to-foot. Bucky latches onto his Sun, the center of his universe, immediately. “Tony,” he breathes.

 ++++++

Tony is helping | Rhodey with his new armor when Steve’s voice crackles through the speaker. “Tony, report to medical immediately.”

 “What did you do?” Rhodey asks. He is the only person Tony told about him and Bucky. He knows he can trust Rhodey to keep a secret.

 Tony raises his hands. “I didn’t do anything! Maybe that’s what the problem is.” He shakes his head. “I better go before I get reduced to dishwashing duty only or something.”

 He races down to the medical and stops at the door when he sees Bucky is awake. Bucky is looking at him with relief and adoration in his eyes. “Tony,” He says, almost reverently.

 “Hi Bucky.” Tony smiles sadly. “I’m glad to see you’re alright.” He turns to Steve. “Did you need something?”

 Steve nods to Bucky who has reached his arms out and is now wiggling his fingers at Tony. “Go to him. He needs to make sure you’re ok.”

 What the hell is going on here? Did Bucky tell Steve? Tony thinks incredulously as he walks over to Bucky. And Steve is supportive? Then he remembers Bucky telling him about nightmares he has that feel so real, he needs physical reassurance. “Hey Bucky. I’m ok. I’m alright, thanks to you. You saved me.”

 Bucky pets Tony’s hair and runs his hand down the side of his face. “You’re ok.” He says softly. “Tony, darling, I almost died in those nightmares. If you weren’t here? What’s the point?”

 “I’m sure you could live without me.” Tony doesn’t know what to say. Are they still keeping it a secret? Are they not? He doesn’t know.

 “No.” Bucky clutches Tony’s hand to his heart. “I love you, Tony. You’re my life, my love. When you fell and I saw that your mask was cracked, I knew I had to give you mine. I knew I’d be fine without one, but you wouldn’t have been. Don’t ever scare me like that again, love.”

 Tony’s heart melts. “Hey Winter Wonder. I love you, too. Don’t worry, I’ll be staying in for a long time. Now, it’s just me who has to worry about you.”

 “I’ll be extra careful.” Bucky smiles and closes his eyes. “Now kiss me.”

 Steve gapes and sputters. Tony doesn’t care. He leans down and kisses Bucky, who sighs in happiness and kisses back. When the kiss goes past PG, Steve clears his throat, and Tony pulls back. “So, um, you and… and… Bucky.” He looks like he swallowed a lemon.

 “Yep.” Tony challenges Steve to say something.

 “Oh… I didn’t know…” He just mutters.

 Bucky whines and pulls Tony back to him, seemingly oblivious of everyone else in the room. Tony sits on the bed next to him, and Bucky nuzzles into Tony’s hip. He falls back asleep very quickly. Steve sits in the room with them for a few minutes, then excuses himself.

 “Call me if he wakes,” Bruce whispers and heads out, too.

 Tony pulls out his phone and plays a game that he programmed for a little while. He soon gets drowsy and leans back against the headboard and falls asleep. Having been moved down to lie beside his lover, he wakes up a few hours later to see Bucky’s face inches from his. “Hi,” he whispers.

 Bucky is more lucid now, and he asks, “Did we just out ourselves to Steve?”

 “I think so. Is that ok?” Tony’s eyes search Bucky’s face for any sign of anger.

 “I don’t care. I just wanted to make sure you’re not mad at me.” Bucky squeezes his hand. “I was the one who said something first.”

 “You should have seen Steve’s face.” Tony laughs. He recounts how Steve reacted to Bucky, who laughs loudly, then clutches his chest. “Note to self, don’t make Bucky laugh until he heals.”

 Tony stays with Bucky until he heals. Steve comes to see him after Bucky is released and Tony is back in his lab. Bucky is under his table, blowing him. Tony steels himself, waiting to be reprimanded. Steve clears his throat and says, “So, Natasha told me that your mask broke.”

 “Yeah. It snapped on a rock, but I fixed it. It shouldn’t break anymore.” Tony holds up the mask. Bucky changes his technique and Tony lurches. “Sorry that it wasn’t in the begi-”

 Steve cuts him off. “No, I’m sorry. I’ve been treating you wrongly, and it | was not fair of me to treat you so. You are a big help to this team, and I’ve treated you like I would someone who slacks off at every turn. Unfortunately, I believe I’ve been influenced by Howard, but I plan to change that. Can you forgive me?”

 “Sure…?” Tony is dumbstruck. Never in a thousand years did Tony expect Steve to apologize. It’s also hard for Tony to concentrate when Bucky’s doing that to him. “It’s alright Cap. No harm done.” Tony bites his lip to keep from moaning.

 “No, it’s not. And I am going to change. You're cleared for missions, too. Thank you, Tony.” He makes to leave, then turns back. No Steve, just go. I can’t hold it in any longer. “And Tony? You are good for Bucky. I’m happy for you both.”

 Tony gapes. Steve said what? “Did you hear that?” He asks. “Did he say what I… ughhhh… thought he said, or am I oh fuck Bucky just hnng dreaming?”

 Bucky just swallows him to the root, and Tony spills over the edge. Bucky swallows every last drop, tucks him back in, and says, “I definitely heard it, babe.”

 Tony lets him come out from under the desk, then pushes him into the chair. “My turn.” He locks the lab door and prepares to give Bucky the best head he’s given yet. The future might look bleak, but Tony and Bucky are just enjoying the moment.

#winteriron #post apocalypse au #nsfk #smut under the cut #buckybarnesbingo2020 #secret relationship #au_gust_2020 #i write!

[yoongisbars]

quest of omission | myg (2)

summary: The war between kingdoms was starting and being Freywind’s highest ranking Captain, you would always be there to defend your people from the treachery of Woodwind. There’s just one problem: their best killer, The Silence, and his insufferable ability to make your heart race with both loathing and yearning. And now, on the verge of death after an ambush gone wrong, you both have no choice but to keep each other alive. 

pairing: myg x reader genre: enemies to lovers au | knight!yoongi au | future angst? fluff? | drabble series word count: 2.1k parts: 2/_ | 1 cw: prolly shitty yet cruel depictions of death and aggressive encounters(no smut tho chill) note: so we gonna get a bit more of The Silence in this one, but also some non bts chars bc of depth: my walnut brain needed it for its original purpose and im not changing it       

      A sharp burning pain crept up from within your lungs. The need to cough, gag and vomit was what brought you back. You spewed nothing but the murky water that was surrounding you. After gathering your senses, you try to stand up, trying to recollect how did you even get here, but the memory of the reservoir bursting quickly made its way to your mind. You were soaked head to toe, and covered in mud here and there, and surely you almost drowned, but whatever entity decided you were worthy of living certainly gave you a fighting chance. All in all, you were alive and in one piece. You couldn’t say the same for the few bodies you stumbled across as you wandered the forest. It was dark and endless, congested by spruce, willow, and sequoia trees. Roots curled the surface, accompanied by shallow waters and mud holes. You were thankful of the full moon illuminating the nearly impossible ground you walked. Whenever you came across a body, you prayed it wasn’t Taehyung, Mare, or anyone of closeness. But these were the consequences of battle. You found the bodies of Woodwind men, as well as your own. Looting what was necessary in order to make do. It was a crude sentiment, but they didn’t need whatever they carried anymore. They were long dead. You happened to find a decent knife, like your personal one, which you had managed to keep safely tucked against your thigh.

         You wandered and wandered and wandered and all you ever came across was the occasional body or a small woodland animal of any sort. No matter which direction you headed, it always seemed like you were going deeper into the woods. You hoped to find a riverbank so that maybe you could try to find your way back to the ambush location and from there head back to Freywind, but not even that.           Time passed but for you it stilled. All you could do was walk aimlessly around the woods in cold weather while soaking wet, trying to at least find shelter of any sort, until your eyes set on a pair of bodies you were all too familiar with… Your beloved underlings. They were at your side moments before the flooding, but now their bodies laid sprawled over roots and mud. From where you stood you could see Atlas’ open eyes, gaze facing nowhere but beyond… His mouth slightly agape, his lasts breaths must have been painful. Eyes that would look to you for guidance and a mouth that would cheer you on, are far gone from this plane of existence. You didn’t know if what was dripping down your face were tears, or remnants of the water you escaped, practically unscathed. Your steps were careful and slow as you got closer. Next to him, was Aeron… His ragged breathing barely a whisper, eyes shut, and face pained. You kneeled beside him, and his name was a whisper escaping your lips. “Aeron?” Your eyes couldn’t help but give him a once over, and it wasn’t until you were in such proximity that you noticed what had him in agony. He winced as he opened his eyes, slightly turning his head over to face you. All color was drained from him, his lips were already turning to an ungodly shade of blue that you had never imagined to be faced with. Even if you knew war eventually led to death, you didn’t imagine death ever touching them, or the gruesome way that it did. “Captain… You’re okay…” His voice cracked and faded, came and went. Whatever strength he still had; he was using it all to speak. “I’m so glad.” Tears started to stream from his eyes as he forced a gentle smile, and you couldn’t help but mimic him. You denied looking down once more, to what came out of his torso, but the source of his slow suffering was impossible to neglect. A large, sharp, twisted root was stained in scarlet as blood continued to pool beneath him.

“Aeron, I’m so sorry. Atlas…” His cold body laid across you, his hand tightly grasped by Aeron’s. It would have been a mercy had they died at once, but one had to suffer while the other was a corpse next to him.

“He passed not long ago. The water… It threw him against those rocks, and I got… stuck here.” Aeron struggled to speak, not raising his gaze from his comrade. “Still, he tried to crawl his way here. He died moments after reaching me.” Their bond was one of the purest, unmatched by any, until the end. “Captain, would you do me the favor of closing his eyes?” Your nod was small, but genuine. A trembling hand neared Atlas’ cold face, placing it over his lids. You let it rest there for a moment as you let out a tiny sob.

“Thank you, thank you…” The grip of Aeron’s hand on Atlas’ tightened. As if giving him a final goodbye.“Have you found any live ones?” You didn’t notice when Aeron was facing you again.

“No. Not yet.” You wiped away at the residue coming out of your nostrils. “Has anyone been nearby?” The young boy softly shook his head. His free hand slowly went to reach your face, thumb wiping away at the tears that were still streaming.

“Captain, it’s okay. These situations are inevitable in war, you taught us so.” You shook your head as you gently squeezed his hand. Not like this, never like this. “It has been my greatest honor to train under you and fight alongside you. I’m sure Atlas would say the same.” His words were slow and ragged, but genuine. In his eyes, embers were fading, but one spark remained.

“Take my necklace. Make sure when you get out of here and return home, please give it to Sian, give her my regards, tell her what I never could… Tell her I love her dearly...” Regret and numbness welled in his eyes, the pain of not returning to the love of his life was greater than that of being impaled. Your hands made their way towards his neck, slowly removing his necklace, avoiding him any more pain. You placed it around yours and safely tucked it under your mucky clothes.

“I will. I’ll let her know you thought of her until the end.” You went for his hand and gave him a squeeze of reassurance, not letting go.“Thank you.”

         You stayed by Aeron’s side in silence, refusing to let go of his hand, focused on his ragged breathing and the cold night surrounding you. You couldn’t bare seeing him like this, but neither putting him out of his misery. Not like he wanted you to anyways, all he wanted was for you to be by his side until nature took its course, just like he was for Atlas. You felt the grip he had on your hand slowly loosen up, as his head slowly rolled to the side and against your shoulder until you heard it. It was faint, but you heard it. You would continue to hear it for the rest of your existence. The final sign of life escaped him when his breath did, and he was gone. It took time to get there, but he was gone in an instant.

          Sobs escaped from your inner core. Your underlings were dead beside you, their bodies would not be put to rest in a proper burial where their loved ones can have their final goodbyes. They would be left in a forest in God knows where, together at the very least. Alone, but together.

          With shivery legs, you got up and gently repositioned Atlas’ body in a more comfortable manner, placing both his hands over his chest. A grim expression grew on your face as, through tears, you tried removing Aeron’s body from the root. More sobs got stuck on your throat as more blood poured from his chest, no wonder his light armor couldn’t withstand such mighty root. Once his body mimicked Atlas’, you scouted the nearby area for flowers. Carefully plucking some delicate blue ones; you placed them in their hands. You sat in front of their bodies silently, accepting that they were gone, and you were alone. Alone, but together. It was a small comfort, they were only lifeless bodies with you, but at least they were with you, and you gave them both a small, decent send off to the beyond. Your goodbyes you kept to yourself. Your regrets as well.

           As you mourned your losses, the sound of a snapping twig broke you away from your sorrows. Wiping your tears away with one arm and drawing your small blade with the other as you stood, you surveyed your surroundings with caution. Breathing was close to nonexistent as you tried to be as silent as you could, if only to listen more carefully. Wary footsteps got closer in sound, but you couldn’t see anything or anyone yet. Not until they peered themselves into view from behind some trees, less guarded than you were.

“You…” When your eyes deciphered who it was, the anger inside you soon started to boil again. It was his fault, it was his unit, it was he who led the ambush.

“You.” He slowly retired the blade he was ready to draw back to its sheath once he realized it was only you. Still wet, shivering, covered in mud, blood, and tears. His eyes travelled to the bodies behind you, peacefully laid out, and then travelled back to you. He had never seen someone that looked so distraught completely shift into rage and fury.

“Don’t look at them, lowlife scum.” Low, harsh tones met his ears. “It’s your fucking fault I lost them. I’m going to kill you.” The last sentence was drawn out so slowly, he was almost taken aback when you lunged for his throat with your blade, ready to return the scar he left you with and take his life while you were at it. But he was quicker. Before you could land a single hit, his hands clasped around your wrists with more force than necessary. In a second, he forced your body around, kicking you behind your knees. You dropped to the ground in pain. 

“You really think I’ll quit?” Attempting, but failing, to stab him while throwing your arms back at him, he twisted your wrists above you until nearly snapping them, with an aching yelp, the blade fell out of your hands. He quickly let you go and pushed you forwards. You winced and seethed as you brought your semi injured wrists up to your chest. Using the lesser pained hand, your reached for the blade, but were quickly halted by the weight of his boot, causing another agonized bawl to escape your lips. 

“I suggest not.” He lifted his foot off your hand and kicked away the knife beneath it. Wincing and scowling, you crawled your way to the sanctuary of your dead comrades. It wasn’t fair. You were supposed to get revenge, if not for yourself, for them. What kind of a sorry Captain were you? Couldn’t protect your unit from an ambush, couldn’t secure them from the currents, and couldn’t even avenge them at the very least by hurting the one man who caused all this. Instead, he stood above you and you were rendered to nothing in mere seconds. His bored gaze loomed over you like a curse, and you understood why they called him Silence. He drew out a long breath as he averted his gaze elsewhere, wiping mud off his brow. He was just as much of dirty mess as you were. Puddles sloshed as he marched away.

“I’m finding a way out. You’re more than welcome to come along, if you keep your hands and blades to yourself.” A barked laugh escaped your throat.

“Why would I search for a way out with the likes of you?” You were already on your feet, pain from your knees and wrists subsiding. His sudden turn caught you off guard, but you refused to show it.

“Then meet a fate no better than your companions’.” He jutted his chin over to where Aeron and Atlas’ bodies laid. The calm, cool tone for such a vile string of words made you uneasy. Being this near him, under the moonlight, without the rush of battle or alcohol in your veins, you were able to see him better. He was not that much taller than you, and yet? He always made you feel so small, so vulnerable and rendered you utterly and completely defenseless…

“I’d rather take my chances with the woodland night.” You took a few steps backwards and plopped down on the muddy ground.

His fingers brushed the muddy, brown locks out of his face. Shrugging, he went on his way. “Alright, alone then.”

***************

my makeshift taglist:

@loveyoongles

@stoeq

​

i had to repost sorry

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi imagines #yoongi scenarios #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts x you

[snifflyjoonie]

Tourner Dans Le Vide

In which Taehyung goes thrift shopping in Paris with a sensitive nose and not of drop of French in his vocabulary.

snz-centric with Taehyung as the sickie(?) and Hoseok as the caretaker.

Word count: 2945

a/n: This is a request fulfillment for the ever lovely @featherypromises as well as my sweet allergic!Tae anon. Thanks for the patience, as per usual! (I will put all of the French translations at the end of the fic for those interested) I really hope you all enjoy this one!

note: there are small mentions of panic & anxiety in this one for those who may be sensitive to that. Just a fair warning!

–

 Taehyung loved Paris. The scenery, the food, and of course, the fashion. Every time Bangtan had the opportunity to visit Paris Taehyung always cherished every moment. He especially valued his rest days where he could wander around, sightsee, and do as he pleased.

Today was exactly that — a rest day — and he decided early on that he wanted to spend the day thrifting. It wasn’t an activity he was able to partake in very often, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. He insisted on going alone without security, something their manager was very wary about at first, but Taehyung convinced him that he would be fine. He couldn’t deny that he was more well-known now than he ever dreamed was possible, but if he was careful enough, he could typically sneak under the radar pretty easily in foreign countries. Security tended to just draw more attention to him, anyway.

Taehyung got himself ready quickly, throwing on a black newsboy cap, black face mask, and long brown trench coat—really, any type of clothing he could find that would help him mask his identity. He let the other members know where he was heading and when he would be back before leaving, denying both Jimin and Hoseok’s offers of company in the process. He wanted to go alone. He was very much an introvert, and as much as he loved his second musical family, his time alone always helped him to decompress, and it was something he needed to do often during touring season.

Taehyung made his way down the bustling Paris streets with a smile under his mask. There really was nothing like Paris, and he paused often to take pictures. From what he could remember reading on online travel blogs, the hidden gem thrift store he was heading to was only a few blocks away from the group’s hotel, tucked cozily into a small alley off to the right. He continuously pulled out his phone to check if he was heading in the right direction, unable to read the French signs around him.  He almost walked right past the alleyway, only catching it when the map app on his phone beeped angrily at him.

He turned down the alley with vigor, spotting the thrift store sign “Le Vide” quickly. He had read so much about this tiny, locally owned shop and could barely contain his excitement about the wonders that awaited him inside.

Taehyung pushed open the heavy wooden door with a small grunt, hearing the tiny tinkling sound of a bell above his head. He was instantly hit with the smell of mothballs as he entered and scrunched up his nose. It even made him cough a little, but he did his best to shake it off because what he saw inside the shop itself was incredible. Crammed into the tiny building were rows upon rows of French vintage clothing, beautiful tapestried quilts draped over different racks and wooden beams, many different trinkets scattered across shelves, and even a small section dedicated to peculiar looking hats. He was in heaven.

“Bonjour!” came a call from across the room. Taehyung looked around quickly before catching the eye of a whimsical-looking older woman behind a small desk. He pulled his face mask down to his chin and smiled a boxy smile at her paired with a tiny wave, “Bonjour!” He called back. The lady seemed to realize Taehyung’s lack of French communication skills from his accent alone and simply gave him a warm smile and a small nod back.

Taehyung stepped deeper into the near-vacant shop with wonder in his eyes. He was so preoccupied by his ethereal surroundings that he barely registered the prickling sensation that was starting to form at the base of his nose. He sniffled once to try to alleviate the itch but was only hit again with the strong scent of mothballs, making his nose burn fiercely. His breath abruptly caught in his throat and he scrambled to pull his face mask back over his nose and mouth before lurching forward into his hand with an ear-splitting “hH’EEEEEHhuh!” that echoed off the walls around him, causing a nearby patron to jump.

Taehyung stayed bent at the waist for a moment and gingerly opened one eye, his hand still firmly pressed against his mask-donned nose. The mask now felt wet against his skin and made him cringe. Quickly, he pulled it from his face and began to shove it into his pocket, pausing only when a call of “À vos souhaits!” from the other end of the room caught his attention. 

The older woman, who Taehyung realized had to have been the owner, had been the one to call out to him, seemingly taken aback by his booming sneeze. Taehyung wasn’t one hundred percent sure what she had said to him but assumed it must have been a French equivalent of ‘bless you’ (an English phrase he wasn’t entirely that familiar with, either). The singer hurriedly straightened himself up and bowed his head sheepishly in her direction.

“Sorry!” he called in English. “Thank—” He stopped himself and shook his head. “No, no—merci! Merci!”

She laughed lightly at his French and shook her head, turning her attention away from Taehyung and back to her current task.

Taehyung sniffed hard and sighed, slightly embarrassed. So much for staying under the radar. Luckily, it didn’t seem like the shop owner — nor any of the patrons, for that matter — knew who he was. He brought up the back of his hand to rub at his nose, continuing to venture his way into the shop. The base of his nostrils still tingled dully and he felt a pang of worry in his gut at the prospect of loudly sneezing again in this cozy, quiet shop, but he did his best to brush it off. He wasn’t going to let one sneeze ruin his day.

The vocalist did a quick scan of the building, not fully sure where to even start before his eyes locked onto a small, vintage-looking stuffed rabbit from a nearby shelf. He immediately made a beeline for it, eager to get a better look. He stumbled on his own feet on the way over but managed to catch himself before any type of fall could embarrass him further.

Taehyung skidded to a halt in front of the shelf housing the stuffed rabbit and chuckled quietly to himself. The shelf was completely packed full of strange dolls and old stuffed animals, ranging from clowns with porcelain faces to bullfrogs wearing hats. He studied them all for a moment before focusing back on the rabbit. All he could think about was how much it reminded him of Jungkook and how much the maknae would laugh if he surprised him with it. He pulled it from the shelf without thinking twice (and without noticing the fine layer of dust that came off the shelf with it) and tucked it under his arm. He suddenly scrunched up his nose as the tingling feeling that had been lying dormant came back with a vengeance. He pinched his eyes tightly shut and tried his best to wiggle away the tickle before bringing up a knuckle to scrub into his nose aggressively. For whatever reason, the scrubbing only seemed to increase his sinuses’ irritation and he slowly felt himself begin to lose control. The vocalist’s next breath came out as a stutter and he quickly cupped a hand around his nose and mouth, pitching forward with two rapid-fire sneezes. “hH’EEEEHSh! RREESSHh!”

The sound bounced off the walls in a similar way to his first sneeze and Taehyung could immediately feel the shop owner’s eyes (as well as the other patrons’) fall back onto him. He gulped hard and wiped the wetness from his hand onto his pant leg, pulling the stuffed rabbit out from under his arm to stare at it in slight shock. Had this been what made him sneeze? He felt fine enough until he grabbed it. He mulled it over for a moment before deciding to place the rabbit back onto the shelf just to be safe. He could find a different present for Jungkook; one that wouldn’t irritate his sinuses. 

Taehyung continued to browse the shop’s trinkets – albeit now with a slightly runny nose – before making his way towards the clothing items, honing his attention in on a rack that seemed to house many different 80s patterned button-downs and a few weathered-looking jackets. He flipped through them excitedly, throwing a few funky patterned shirts over his shoulder to try on later. As he did so, he became increasingly more aware of how damp his nostrils were becoming. He sniffled thickly in an attempt to stop the wetness from dripping, throwing a worn Sherpa jacket over his shoulder in the process. His nose was starting to feel stuffy, and he brought the back of his wrist up to rub at it harshly. Was he getting sick? He frowned to himself and let out a sigh as an all too familiar prickling sensation started to pick back up in the very back of his sinuses. He shoved a closed fist underneath his now twitching nose and spun away from the clothing rack as best he could, bending hard at the waist as a series of loud sneezes forced their way out of him, “HhHAHSsh! HHEHhHu! HHASHHiew!”  

Taehyung opened back up his eyes with a sniffle, quickly seeing all the clothes he had piled onto his shoulder spread haphazardly onto the floor in front of him. Groaning, he bent down to gather them all back up, cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment. He had no idea what was wrong with him or why his nose burned so badly, but he decided it was probably time to just pack up and leave. It wasn’t fair to the other patrons to have to listen to him practically screech every few minutes, and it was getting harder to ignore the way his sinuses continued to buzz urgently.  

Taehyung quickly straightened himself up and made his way towards the shop owner’s small desk, placing his pile of clothes upon it. The older woman smiled up at him and began sorting through his clothing, eyeing the vocalist warily as he snuffled into the back of his hand.

“Vous n'arrêtez pas d'éternuer.” She commented with a light chuckle, catching Taehyung off guard. He blinked down at her in confusion before responding back in English, “S-Sorry, I-I don’t speak…French.” His accent was thick and she cocked an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything back, simply continuing her task of scanning and folding his various items. Taehyung continued to watch; the silence of the shop only being broken by his increasingly urgent-sounding sniffles. After a moment, he plucked up enough courage to try speaking to her again, “Uhm…S-sorry,” He began, “D-do you had…have…any, uh…cloth?” His English was rough and it made his stomach bubble with anxiety. He had no idea what the English word for ‘tissue’ was, but he hoped with his entire being that the shop owner would catch his drift.

“Uuuh, pardon,” She said, a look of sympathy on her face, “je ne connais pas l’anglais.”

Taehyung swallowed hard, anxiety swirling into his chest as he realized the only word he could recognize was ‘pardon’. To make matters worse, each time the older woman shook out one of his garments to fold, the buzzing in his nose would increase dramatically. Before Taehyung could even fully register what was happening, the intense urge to sneeze hit him like a truck, and he pushed himself away from the desk with a force that made him tumble backwards. He sneezed hard and loud, tripping over his own feet in the process and crashing into a nearby rack of clothing. Taehyung could hear the shop owner gasp as he tumbled to the ground, the force of his body managing to knock a week’s worth of dust from the items on the rack. The dust cloud floated down towards him delicately and immediately sent him into a vicious and rapid fit.

“hH’AHHKShu! AHKSHhu! IIIISHhuh! hH’EESHHhiew!” The sneezes came on hard and fast and his eyes began to water fervently as the dust settled around him. Dust. Of course it was dust. This explained everything. Taehyung mentally kicked himself for not taking any of his allergy medication before coming. He should have known better.

The vocalist could hear the shop owner call out to him in French but the foreign language only increased his anxiety. He had no idea what she was saying to him and he had no way of communicating what he needed from her back. He tried his best to respond, but his words came out as half-English half-Korean, interrupted every second or two by his booming sneezes. He was starting to cause a scene and he just couldn’t handle it. Quickly, and with a hitch in his breath, Taehyung bolted for the nearest changing room he could find. He needed to get away, he needed to get out of there right now.

The vocalist practically threw himself into the room, locking the door immediately behind him. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears at this point and his nose burned so viciously that it made him whimper. He just wanted to go home.

“Hh-HE’EEESH!” Another violent sneeze exploded out of him, forcing Taehyung to clamp a hand tightly around his nose and mouth. He felt a new wetness on his upper lip and nearly burst into tears. How could this be happening?  

A small knock at the change room door nearly made Taehyung have a heart attack. He stuttered out a few English words, voice muffled by his hand, hoping that whoever was out there could speak it, “S-Sorry, sorry! It is…uh…full!” He was unable to think of the English word for “occupied”, panicked, and spat out one of the only French words he knew, “Merci! Sorry! Merci!” His Korean accent was thick and muddled his words together. He choked out a sob, cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment as his nose continued to run steadily into his hand.

“Taehyung-ah?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened as he instantly recognized the voice behind the door.

“Taehyung-ah…is that you?” It was Hoseok. The familiar sound of his hyung’s voice and the overwhelming relief of hearing his native tongue forced another sob to sneak its way out of him.

Hoseok quickly began to rattle the door knob upon hearing his dongsaeng’s muffled cries, “What’s going on? Are you okay? Tae-yah, let me in!”

Taehyung brought up a shaky hand to unlock the knob before Hoseok tumbled his way inside. The older boy looked the younger up and down for just a moment before springing into action. He pulled Taehyung into a warm embrace, trying his best to tenderly shush the younger boy. Taehyung was nearly full-blown sobbing now, and all Hoseok could hope to do was comfort him in some way.

“What’s going on, Tae-yah?” Hoseok cooed, rubbing the boy’s back, “You were gone for so long I came looking for you. I thought you got lost. I was really worried. Please don’t cry. Do you need a tissue?”

Taehyung simply nodded his head, his nose still buried into his cupped hand. Hoseok quickly fished around in his pocket before pulling out a small packet of tissues. He always tended to have one with him during the fall months as his own allergies typically got the best of him as soon as the leaves began to fall.

Hoseok pulled a few tissues from the pack and pressed them into Taehyung’s free hand; the younger singer immediately using them to clean himself up and blow his nose. All of his crying seemed to have helped flush the lingering dust from his nose and eyes, and the buzzing in his nose had died down to just a small hum.

“H-how did you find me?” Taehyung murmured, sniffling softly. Hoseok smiled.

“You told us where you were going, remember?” He chuckled slightly, “I would have been here sooner but…Yaah, this place was so hard to find! I walked past the alleyway at least three times!” Taehyung’s lip twitched up into a hint of a smile before Hoseok continued, “You were taking awhile so I came to find you. I had just walked into the shop when I heard what sounded like you sneezing coming from in here, so I came to check. I’m glad I did!”

Taehyung smiled as Hoseok’s cheerful laughter filled the change room. It was hard to stay upset when Hoseok was around.

“Thanks for coming to find me, hyung.” Taehyung sniffled, dragging the back of his hand under his nose, “I think I’ve had enough alone time for one day.”

Hoseok giggled at this and nodded, “I think you’re probably right. Ready to head back?”

Taehyung started to nod but stopped himself, “Wait! I still have to go pay for my clothes!” He jumped up quickly and made a lunge for the doorknob but Hoseok grabbed his forearm, pulling him to a halt.

“I think it’d be better if you go get some fresh air.” Hoseok smiled politely, giving Taehyung a small pat on the back, “Let hyung take care of the rest. I’ll meet you outside, okay?”

Taehyung paused a moment before smiling. Hoseok was definitely right. He nodded at his hyung enthusiastically and handed the older boy his wallet before making his way out of the shop. There was still plenty he wanted to see and explore of the small thrift store, but that could be saved for another day. And next time, he wouldn’t forget his allergy pills.  

 --

French:

Tourner dans le vide: turn into the void (yes this is a song and yes I listened to it a lot while writing this lol)

À vos souhaits: to your wishes (French version of ‘bless you’)

Vous n'arrêtez pas d'éternuer: you cannot stop sneezing

je ne connais pas l’anglais: I do not know English

#bts sickfic #mine #allergic!taehyung #bts snzfic #bts snz

[undinefin]

Prey - BNHA/MHA

fufewhufi more L does writing in order to redeem herself. uhh mobile still makes this stuff look ugly as hell so i apologize (tumblr keeps fucking with my formatting oh my god). i might make this into a series??? we'll see. somewhat inspired by @writing-prompt-s so y'know

Genre: fantasy Ships: kirishima x bakugou  Word count: 2948 Author: @undinefin

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Bakugou had been raised by the wild. He had never known of a roof over his head, and while he was largely aware of civilization, he preferred not mixing with them. Bakugou’s first few years were miraculous, he didn’t know when he had been lost in the wild– because surely, surely his parents wouldn’t have simply left him there – but the fact that he had survived until he could walk by himself was nothing short of magic.

That was, until he did discover there was magic. Bakugou had first seen it when he was about six years old, when he didn’t truly know any languages, he had only picked up smatterings of different tongues from groups that had passed, or towns he had briefly visited. Bakugou had grasped many survival skills at that age, though the natural sense of wonder within him did deter from survival sometimes. As such, the strange ball of light that tickled his ear sent him into chase. It disappeared into the night, leaving Bakugou to merely contemplate what the light was.

By twelve, Bakugou had realized many things, the first being that perhaps the black engraving that was on his shoulder may have been the blessing his parents had left him with to survive. The second was that gold in their world was vital for survival.

“You’re so young,” his customers would always say. Bakugou never responded, sometimes because he didn’t speak their language, sometimes because he didn’t care to tell them anything about himself. 

At that age, he provided a simple service of escorting people through the wild to a different town. He’d use the money to buy things like better weapons than the ones he’d made out of stone, and some actual pants so people would take him seriously.

Some of the customers could use magic. Those were the ones that Bakugou preferred. They were more interesting, and less annoying than others. He’d ask them to teach him magic, and anything else they knew instead of paying the regular fee.

“You see, magic is something that every being possesses, the air, the trees, you, and me. Some beings naturally possess more magic than others. It’s something that cycles, never running out,” one mage explained. “Humans and other creatures have learned how to absorb and store magic, then they learned how to release it in a way that benefits them.”

Bakugou watched in wonder as the mage began forming objects or elements into the palm of his hand, before willing them away.

“Not every human has an aptitude for magic, some can only control a little, while others can control next to none. If you work hard enough at it, sometimes your aptitude can grow, but it would take years to see significant difference.”

It was that night Bakugou learned he had very little aptitude for magic. He could just barely absorb it, and hardly created more than a spark before feeling as though he sprinted for a minute. The mage had ruffled his hair and told him that his fighting and instincts were better than any royal guard he had seen. Bakugou took pride in that.

As he continued to grow, Bakugou soon began strong enough to make and defend what people might have called a “home.” It wasn’t the shoddily stuck together sticks that made it home, it was the territory that the animals knew was his, it was the river that he could always follow the current to find the same glade. What made him come back was the same birds that would faithfully wake him up in the morning, the boars and crows that bode to his will so long as he spared them some food. It was the pack of wolves that came around two seasons a year that he’d tussle with, and the fresh berries that naturally grew just behind his house.

Though despite his growing age, and increasing territory, Bakugou still held a love for magic. Perhaps it was because it felt like the one thing out of his reach, or maybe it was all the beautiful creatures he’d seen. Nymphs and fae were quite common, fluttering and playing tricks on people. Occasionally, he’d catch a goblin wandering around at night, or sirens at the mouth of the river.

Bakugou had only ever seen a dragon once in his life. When he was fourteen he’d been lacing the claw he’d won from a mild tussle he had with a werecat onto the necklace he was making. Bakugou had carefully polished the appendage, and carefully drilled a hole through the thickest part of the claw with the help of the tiny amounts of heat he could create.

The shadow flew by so fast, it was only by chance that he had looked up. It was hard to tell without the sun’s light, but the hide looked purple. The fabulous wings were pulled tight against the body, and the entire glade shook with force. Dragons were said to be the most magical of creatures, blessed with long enough lives to build up their aptitude for it. Bakugou wanted a dragon.

Bakugou had not seen another dragon since, that was, until now. Bakugou had decided his “birthday” would simply just be the nicest day of the spring each year. He’d been out after hunting for a feast and buying himself a nice cape since his old one had been destroyed in the harsh winter. As he walked back to the glade, he had spotted the glowing orange orb. At first, he thought it was another traveler who was simply starting a fire to cook, he’d seen some green-haired scrub around lately.

The odd white flash of the orb, and the red leather that seemed to surround it made Bakugou curious. He inched towards the figure, drawing his sword. He got about a meter away before the creature quite literally roared to life, it’s wings flapping once, sending shockwaves through the forest. The teeth were a shiny white, sharp enough that even if just grazed, they would surely hurt. The teeth stood out against its maroon hide, the scales burned into a fiery orange when the sunlight hit them.

The dragon turned to face Bakugou, its breath restyling his untamed hair. Bakugou stood unfazed by the creature, letting his sword fall loose in his hand.

“Your breath smells like shit,” he finally said. “You breathe fire?”

The dragon looked taken aback for a moment, before slowly breaking into a very toothy grin. It raised a giant hand and placed it just a few feet in front of Bakugou and began tapping its claws. Out of its mouth came a low rumble, which seemed to be a laugh.

The dragon’s eyes twinkled, “Of course I breathe fire!” The voice was surprisingly energetic, and not as rough as Bakugou anticipated it would be, it was low, the dragon seemed to be a male. To show off, the dragon let out puffs of fire that quickly dissipated before catching onto the nearby leaves.

Bakugou didn’t hesitate, “Wanna eat something?”

“Are you...offering yourself or...?” If the dragon had eyebrows, he’d be raising them.

“Course not you idiot, I’ll make you something, it’s my birthday.” The dragon smiled again, and slowly got himself out of the sitting position he was in. His wings stretched slightly and he gave a small nod to Bakugou, who was still watching the massive beast.

The two walked in moderate silence, the dragon occasionally breaking a branch, or rock. Bakugou would study the dragon as he walked, looking at the pattern of the scales, or the strength that he put into a single step, he’d never say anything though.

The dragon coughed, “So, what’s your name?”

“Why do I have to tell you.”

“Well,” he curled his tail in slight annoyance. “It would be nice if I knew the name of my host.” The dragon continued to eye Bakugou, who’s attention was not on the conversation, but the talons on his feet.

The human let out a huff, “It’s Bakugou, and you? Do dragons even have names?”

“Oh! Yeah it’s-” the dragon let out a mixture of snarls and a slight growl, before finishing with a snap. Bakugou looked at him unimpressed. “Well I guess something like...Kirishima...would work for you.” They walked back to the glade in silence, Bakugou picking and choosing which questions of the very talkative dragon he’d answer.

When they reached the opening, Bakugou dashed to his hut to grab the meat he’d hunted. He walked back outside dragging a prepared deer, and Tengu. He began setting up pieces of wood to cook the meat – Bakugou learned harshly at a young age that eating raw meat wasn’t for him – and readied his magic to light the fire. This was always the hardest part, because it would take nearly all of his stamina just to support a flame for a brief moment.

After a few failed tries, Bakugou turned to see the dragon playing around with one of the baby wolves, letting it run up and down his arm. “Oi, get your scaly ass over here,” he demanded. The dragon pushed aside the baby wolf with one of his claws and took two large steps towards Bakugou and the pile of wood. “Light this on fire so we can eat. You can do it, right?”

Kirishima laughed a little, “You’re a tough guy huh. I’ve heard about you from some nymphs around here.” He lit the pile of wood on fire, it blazed wildly for just a moment before dying down.

Bakugou spread the meat atop a raised stone structure that held next to the fire. “Hm, what they say?”

“That’s the thing, it changes from nymph to nymph. A few say that you’re some terrifying guy who wants everyone to just die. Y’know the first time I saw ya I thought you’d come at me with your sword and just scream ‘die die die!’ but you didn’t even do anything.”

“Lookin’ for a fight? I could totally obliterate ya.”

Kirishima let out a laugh, causing the meat to rattle on the stone, and the fire to blow to the side. “But then some of the nymphs, like the Anthousai are convinced you’re some great guy ‘cuz ya made some travelers stop picking their flowers.”

Bakugou didn’t respond. He left most of the meat on the platform, motioning for Kirishima to eat it. Their conversation didn’t carry much further. Instead, Bakugou continued to examine the dragon, part of him wanting to see the beast in action. Would he be powerful?

“Uh,” Kirishima coughed. “Somehow your stare seems even more intense than mine...”

Bakugou studied Kirishima’s eyes. They were small compared to the rest of his face, but about the size of Bakugou’s hand. The yellow glow seemed faded in the sunlight, merely swimming around a deep red pupil. Truthfully, he could only study one eye. From his position, the other eye was behind a large nose on the other side of his face.

Realization hit him. “Are you...prey?” Bakugou stated.

“What?”

Bakugou looked at the dragon like he was an idiot, “Most prey have key features to help them protect themselves, spraying things out their ass when they run away, spikey skin, eyes and ears at the side of their face to get bigger scopes of the area in case they need to run away. Your eyes are clearly on the side of your face, what the hell would you need to run away from?”

Kirishima swallowed the Tengue whole, “Eye placement, uh, isn’t that big of a deal when you can spew fire?”

Bakugou stopped mid-bite, “Right, you’re just a giant lizard, that’s how it is with reptiles. Never mind then.”

“Good,” Kirishima swallowed awkwardly.

“...Is there an actual answer to that question?” Bakugou continued to study the now slightly-panicked dragon.

“Of course not!” The dragon’s tail was lightly swaying from side to side.

“Kirishima.”

The dragon hung his head, “I suppose I could, perhaps...”

“Tell me.”

“Yes.”

Bakugou blew onto the embers of the wood to keep the fire going. He sat on the ground and adjusted his new cape, which had genuine griffin fur on it.

Kirishima let his head fall onto the ground as well. “I’ve heard this story from my grandmother countless times. I’m sure that you’ve heard stories, cool ones that say stuff like ‘dragons are the ultimate predator’ and ‘only a dragon can defeat a dragon.’”

“I bet I could,” Bakugou cut in.

A glint appeared in Kirishima’s eye, “That sounds fun. Well, one of the things is true, dragons are blessed with a long life. How old do you think I am?”

“Dunno, if you’re an old dragon who can’t do shit then that won’t be exciting,” he didn’t say it out loud, but if he wanted a dragon he’d want it to be cool.

“I guess I’m pretty old, but maybe not in human standards. What makes a dragon’s life so long is its early years. We don’t start out looking like this, being able to breathe fire or even fly. Most of our life, maybe first three hundred years, are spent on development I’d say. Dragons start out looking like lizards, or geckos, and even when we reach bigger sizes most of us take a while, maybe another hundred or so years, before we can start the whole fire thing.”

“So, your eyes are on the side of your head ‘cuz you were a lizard three hundred years ago?” Bakugou began doubting the explanation.

Kirishima shook his large head, “Nah, even back then our eyes were supposedly on the front of our heads. Like, they would face foreword more I guess. What really sparked the change was when humans found out that dragons started in such a weak state. At that time, long ago, there were maybe more dragons in the world than humans, and many of them were developed, so humans were naturally afraid of them.

“A handful of curious humans went out to try and fight a dragon. They stumbled across one that wasn’t developed, the dragon was big but they couldn’t fly yet, and they easily went down. People began using dragon scales and blood in their armor, or meals to make them stronger, and defeat even more dragons. Before we knew it, the dragons were the ones being hunted.”

“You became prey to the humans,” Bakugou stated. “That’s why there’s so few of you now huh, you all died off.”

Nodding, the dragon continued, “In desperation to save the future generations, the dragons began naturally being born with eyes and ears on the side of our heads, and tougher scales.”

“Your scales weren’t always as hard?”

“According to my grandmother, our scales were more like a shark’s skin? We were predators, our scales didn’t have to be super hard like a turtle or somethin’. So now we all kind of try to avoid humans as much as possible, what if they still know about that? We might die off completely,” his voice seemed to shake.

Bakugou figured he’d seen something, maybe the massacre of his own race. If Kirishima was really some three to four hundred years old then perhaps he would have been a young lizard (that was funny to think about, Bakugou had to hold in teasing and laughter) when he’d witnessed something terrible. He never thought he’d see a dragon scared before.

“Then how come you didn’t run away from me?” Bakugou raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t know really,” the dragon responded simply. “Maybe it was ‘cuz I’d heard a lot about you, or 'cuz you were approaching me so cautiously.”

“You wanna fight?”

Kirishima laughed again. His laugh was deep and boisterous, filling the entire glade with a warm feeling, perhaps from his breath. “Well!” his mood switched entirely. “Thanks for the meal, I’ll, uh...go now.” Kirishima raised his entire body, pushing onto all fours. 

Bakugou expected the dragon to fly off, leaving a strong gust of wind to circle the glade. Instead, he merely began walking, causing the ground to shake with each step.

He watched the dragon leave flightless, his eyes drawn to the wings that currently served no purpose. The dragon stretched them slightly, perhaps to air them out, allowing Bakugou to catch a glimpse of them.

The right wing was torn. It looked like it had suffered an explosion, circular tears in the fibers made up much of the bottom of the wing. Bakugou ran to catch up to the dragon, thankful that Kirishima was going slowly.

“Oi you asshole, don’t lie!” he shouted. Bakugou had hopped up onto the dragon’s tail and began running up the back.

Kirishima began twitching at the feeling of someone running up his bakc, “What are you...”

Bakugou reached the head and placed a hand onto one of the dragon’s two horns. “You didn’t run away from me ‘cuz you couldn’t, your wing is hurt. You can stay here y’know, the glade is big enough to fit your giant dragon ass. I’ll feed you or whatever, since you’re helpless like this.”

“If you’re trying to tame me this is a terrible way to go about it,” Kirishima laughed. He had stopped walking.

“I’m just offering to keep you alive, so we can fight later. I’ll beat you y’know,” Bakugou mumbled. He wasn’t necessarily lying, he did want to try and fight a dragon.

Kirishima’s eyes focused upwards, “You really don’t mind?”

“Are you an idiot?” Bakugou clicked his tongue, “I wouldn’t be offering if I didn’t mean it.” Kirishima grinned, his sharp teeth falling out of his mouth. He walked the both of them to the center of the glade, his entire body humming.

ahhh thank you for reading!!!!! if ya want it to continue i guess?? leave a like or smt??? 

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#my writing #bnha #mha #bokuaca #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au #boku no hero academia fantasy au #dragon!kirishima #kiribaku #bakugou x kirishima #kirishima eijirou #dragon #magic #myth #gggaaaaaahhhhh im embarrassed #ripp #prey series #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki

[percywinchester27]

Stroke of luck (Part-8)

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Word count: 3800-ish

Warnings: Daddy!Dean, so much of it... trust me, it’s a warning. FLUFF!!

Series Summary: Dark highway, middle of the night, a bad boy driving an Impala, and a Damsel in distress. Too cliche? Think again.

A/N: This is the part that actually inspired the whole series around it. I am in love with it. I hope by the end, you are, too <3 Beta’d by the fabulous @sdavid09.

Feedback is really REALLY appreciated!

Stroke of luck Masterlist

A crowd had gathered right in the middle of it, making it impossible to move around. Dean honked loudly twice, but the crowd didn't budge.

"What the hell?" He muttered to himself before stepping out and making his way through the crowd. The scene that unfolded before his eyes as he walked to the front of the line was disheartening. A girl was standing in the middle of the circle, crying in her hands. All her books were strewn across the asphalt, while her bag was ripped to shreds. Two boys were standing on the other side laughing at her, while she sobbed. When she moved her hand to wipe her tears, Dean caught a glimpse of her face. It was Sam, and she had the most heartbreaking and lost expression her face.

Dean's POV:

For a few minutes Dean couldn't comprehend what was happening. Was she angry, was she hurt? Why was all her stuff scattered like that? Did she trip and fall down? Dean was suddenly worried whether she had hurt herself.

Then the silence broke as one of the boys- the one with light brown hair- let out a cackle of insensitive laughter. "Why you cryin' now? Like you didn't know!"

"Of course, she did!" The other one leered. He was lanky and had greasy, black hair. "She knows how weird she is. She knows she's the freak."

"You heard what she was sayin' right?" the first one prompted. "Purple light killed Aaron," he mimicked in a high pitched voice that did not resemble Sam’s quiet, melodious one at all. She just stood there, staring defiantly up at them.

"We all know what put that crap in her head," Greasy hair continued. "If she ever bothered to get her head out of those fat books, she'd see the world for what it really is.” He looked straight at her. “You might actually look good if you ditched those stupid t-shirts and put some make up on."

"Just learn a lil' from that mother of yours," leered the short one. "Sleepin' round like she does, you could’ve picked up a few tricks, nerd."

"Course her father disappeared!" The two of them burst into a bought of cruel laughter.

A sob ripped free of Sam's chest. She turned on her heel to run away, but in the next second, found her face pressed into a warm softly clothed chest. Dean saw her jerk back for a bit before her eyes met his. When they did, her watery emeralds into his fiery green, instead of pushing away, she threw her arms around his waist and clung to him, fisting her fingers into the back of his suit. She turned her face into him and broke down completely.

Dean felt as though his insides were melting the moment the girl buried her face in his chest. It was nothing like anything he'd ever felt before. The strongest urge to protect her, to hide her from the cruel, cruel world overcame him, and his hands instinctively enveloped around her. The aftermath of the feeling left him reeling. The anger he could understand, the protectiveness, too, but the possessive edge and the tenderness he felt towards her, both shocked and shook him.

"Hey, shhhh…" he softly whispered in her ear. "It's gonna be alright. It's gonna be okay."

Sam only hugged him tighter, clinging to him. Dean found himself comforting her despite the havoc in his own head. This girl didn't deserve to be treated like this. She was smart and sweet and loving. She shouldn't have to cry like that.

Dean lowered his head so only she could hear him. "Stay here, I'll be right back." Sam, however, shook her head, unwilling to let him go.

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here, next to you. Let me go have a talk with them."

"No, don't," her breath hitched. "They'll say mean things about you, too."

"They can try." Dean leveled his gaze with the taller of the two, the greasy haired idiot. He seemed to be taken aback, but was still staring at Dean sullenly.

Dean could feel all eyes on the two of them and he was sure so could she, but Sam held on, hiding in his chest, from the judgment everyone seemed to be exuding. She was trusting him to protect her. That decided it for him.

Dean gently pried Sam's fingers off his coat, but didn't let go of her hand as he took a few strides forwards. Sam tried to hold him back, but Dean's grip was firm. She needed to see this.

He made his way towards the boys, both of them seemed to be older than eighteen. Either they were drop outs, or part of the community college that shared the same building. From the condition of her things and the way she seemed to massaging her shoulder, it wasn't hard to figure out what had happened. They'd either held her hard, or yanked the bag with enough force to hurt.

"Who are you Mister?" Greasy hair wheezed. He seemed to be the bigger bully of the two. "The new guy her mother is banging?"

Sam's grip on Dean's hand tightened painfully. He could feel her shaking besides him. She seemed to cringe a little, but Dean held on, refusing to let go.

He strode forward and in a swift motion tugged at the collar of the kid, pushing him into the adjacent wall, hard enough to sting, but not actually cause damage.

The boy let out a strangled cry as his head hit the surface.

"Doesn't matter who I am," Dean growled. "What matters is what I can do, you slimy son of a bitch. You touch her again, and I'll break your sorry face."

The guy whimpered pathetically against Dean's grip, clutching at his throat, trying to find a way out. Dean did not budge.

"Am I clear?" He snarled loudly, and the boy nodded pitifully.

"I would ask you to apologize to her, but you don't deserve to so much as look at her, forget about talking to her. Her mom's done a great job raising a kid like that. Your folks don't seem to have gotten it through that thick skull of yours. Now get lost."

Dean released his grip and the boy collapsed on the asphalt floor, coughing and gasping for air. The other kid had disappeared.

Dean turned to the by standing crowd. "Shows over, get out," he called, voice icier than usual. The kids didn't need to be told twice. Within a couple of minutes the parking lot was empty.

Sam was still clutching Dean's hand, quietly crying into the other one.

"Shhh… it's alright, C'mere," Dean said, gently pulling her back into his arms. "Those kids are dicks, don't listen to that bullshit. You're so much better than any of them. You get me?"

She didn't react, just burrowed deeper, and there was that feeling again. A warm ache in his chest that Dean couldn't put a name to. This felt too pure somehow, holding her this way. Dean couldn't help but remember when he was young and small Sam used to hug him on stormy nights when they were alone in motel rooms. For the life of him Dean couldn't figure out why he was suddenly so nostalgic. It hurt in an oh so sweet way, but Dean never wanted to be rid of this feeling.

He gently pushed her back and brought his hand up to cup her face. She seemed unwilling to look at him, like she was suddenly embarrassed. Dean held on, until she looked up, her beautiful eyes shy. "You get me, right? You're awesome. You should be proud of yourself."

At long last she nodded, and Dean smoothened the blonde locks away from her eyes. "That's good," he smiled at her encouragingly. "You wanna sit down for a bit and tell me what that was about?" She nodded once more.

"Alright," Dean said, guiding her to a bench nearby. "You sit here, I'll be back with your stuff."

She was quick to interrupt. "No… No… I'll get it."

"No, you won't," Dean stated firmly. "You sit. I'll go get it."

He made his way towards the torn bag and its strewn contents. Most of it was huge books- SATs, physics, Economics. They weren't course books, but much more advanced. Along with those there were couple novels- Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen. Those idiots must have yanked the bag hard and because of the full to brim contents, it must have split immediately. Dean looked back at Sam. She was rubbing her shoulders, eyeing him anxiously. He smiled reassuringly at her, as he collected all her stuff, even the markers, pens, and chocolate wrappers.

When Dean got to the bottom of the things, he found a worn out College flyer… For Stanford Law.

Really? Stanford Law? Dean thought to himself. That was a weird-ass coincidence.

After collecting all the books, Dean balanced them in one hand, and stooped to grab the torn bag. The fabric was full of all sorts of doodle- quotes from Southern movies, anime, manga, symbols… everything. It was eclectic and fascinating. Dean found himself turning it over to notice that the handles were made of pure silver. He smirked to himself as he remembered Sam pushing them against his skin that first night when he had picked her up. That kid was really smart and for some weird reason Dean felt proud about it. She had been raised right.

When he reached the bench, his shoe caught against a stone and the books tumbled out of his hands once more, cascading over the girl in front of him. She winced as the books hit her head and fell over her feet.

Dean was about to apologize, but a peal of laughter left her, as she giggled at his antics.

"You're such a butterfingers," she managed in between her laughs.

Dean found his heart melting at the sound of her laughter. It was precious. She bent down and retrieved her books, neatly stacking them on one side. She picked the Stanford flyer last and carefully placed it in between the thickest of books.

"So Law school, huh?" Dean asked, intrigued, as he took a seat next to her.

She wriggled her hands in her lap, not quite meeting his eyes, "Ummm yeah."

"That's awesome," Dean told her, his voice sounded happy even to him.

"You aren't going to tell me I'm too young or something?" 

"Nope!" He replied. "I know you're really smart. You can do whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" She looked up through her lashes, shy again.

"Whatever you want," Dean repeated, simply. There was a conviction in his words because he truly believed in them.

"It's all I've ever wanted. I'm almost sixteen, but I've taken all the classes, even the advanced one, so I'm graduating this year. I'm giving my SATs in a couple of weeks and I really want to get into Stanford pre-law."

The fact that she was advanced didn't surprise Dean whatsoever. "Why Stanford?"

"When I was a kid, my mom told me it's where smart people go," she shrugged.

"Well, I ain't contesting with your mom."

They sat in silence for a while. Dean was lost in his own thoughts until he saw her rubbing at her shoulders again, and anger flashed through him. He willed himself to control his tone before asking. "You wanna tell me what that was about?” He gestured towards the spot where she'd stood crying.

Sam seemed to retreat back into her shell and the wriggling of fingers resumed. Just when Dean thought she was going to ask him to butt out, she spoke in a small voice. "Those idiots used to be high school last year. I think they were friends with Aaron or something. I don't know what their problem is, but they call me names all the time. They call me ugly and stuff…" her voice trailed off.

If Dean was angry before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. Anyone would have to be blind to call her ugly. She was perfect.

"Don't listen to them," Dean's voice was more insistent that he had intended it to be. "You're beautiful and smart. I meant it when I said they don't deserve to even look at you."

"Really?" her cheeks were tinged with pink as she looked up at him.

"Hell yeah! You're too good."

She looked down, blushing an even deeper shade of red now.

"It's not that though," she said after a while. "I don't care what they say about me. It doesn't matter. But they say awful stuff about my mom, and none of it is true."

"If none of it is true, then why does it bother you so much?" 

"Because it's on the opposite fudging end from reality, that's why!" She huffed.

"What do you mean?" Dean’s curiosity was at its peak. He had to admit that he was intrigued by her mother. She definitely knew her way around the territory, and judging from how she had raised her daughter, she seemed to be sensible and kind.

"I mean everyone judges her because she's so young. She had me when she was only 18, and she's really gorgeous. There's always a couple guys loitering outside the flower shop she owns, hoping to ask her out. She never heeds all the attention."

"All this talk seems to be a case of sour grapes then," Dean mused.

"It is. She's so nice, and she rarely even dates. Just because of how she looks, people say such horrible stuff about her," Sam said bitterly.

"Well then the people here are dicks," Dean stated. His ‘matter of fact’ tone made Sam giggle. Dean’s very bones softened. She was truly a lovely child. And the way she had described her mother, Dean could see where she got it from.

Dean didn't want to assume, yet, he couldn't help but wonder what happened to Sam’s father. A man would have to be a total jackass to leave a beautiful family like that.

"Don't worry about the jerks, kiddo. I'm sure your mom is happy enough to have you."

"She is," Sam smiled wistfully. "She's my best friend. I love her so much. She hasn't had it easy, you know. We used to be constantly moving till I was about seven years old, never stopping in a place for more than a couple of weeks, like someone was chasing us or something. She'd leave for a few of hours to get food and return bloody a lot of times. Mom never talks about those days even if I ask, but I can see the scars sometimes. It's only been about six or seven years since we've settled here. That’s why I want to become a lawyer. So I can make her proud."

"Where was your dad in all this?" The question just tumbled out his mouth. Dean regretted it the moment he said it out loud. It was personal, and definitely prying on his part. It looked like Sam's mom had been through hell. Gang maybe?

Sam, thankfully, seemed unperturbed by the question. "He died when I was a baby," she said, a distinct note of pride in her voice. "My mom says he was a hero and he died trying to save someone. She said he loved me." Her voice became melancholy by the end. "I never knew him."

"I'm sure he'd be proud of the young lady you've become," Dean told her. Sam smiled up at him.

"Yeah, my mom says so, too." A sudden light illuminated her eyes and she giggled excitedly. "You know what? You should meet her!"

"Who? Your mom?" 

"No, the Queen of England," she sassed. "Of course, I mean my mom! You two are so similar. Tell you what, you should totally go out on a date with her."

"Whoa, Kid!" Dean said, taken aback by her sudden enthusiasm. "I'm not the dating sort. I won't be in the town longer than this case." Even as he said it, Dean couldn't help but feel a little sad at the thought of not seeing Sam again.

"Oh, she isn't the dating type either," she gave him a naughty smile. Whatever that was supposed to mean. "Just go out once. How could it possibly harm? It'll be fun!"

Dean thought about it and decided it wasn't such a bad idea after all. He wasn't staying long and Sam's mom intrigued him anyway. He could meet her.

"Alright," Dean acquiesced, "but on one condition."

"What?" Her smile faltered a little.

Dean grinned. "That we’ll remain friends no matter how that turns out." He extended his calloused hand. "Friends?"

A huge grin spread across her face as she slid a delicate hand forward and shook Dean's firmly. "Friends!"

Dean noticed a silver anti-possession charm and witch repelling amulet dangling from her bracelet. Yes, meeting her mom would be interesting to say the least.

"It's a deal then!"

Sam's POV:

To say Sam was tired was a massive understatement. He was used to staying up late nights, working cases, or researching for them, but this one seemed to be somehow taking a toll on him. As much as he might refuse to accept it, Sam knew the reason. He knew it was the hope that pulling him down. No, it wasn't the hope, it was the effort of trying to keep it squished that was so exhausting. All night long he had dreamt of Y/N's face as she had looked at him with terror in her eyes on the night that Dean had died. Sam had been consumed by a homicidal rage, so frenzied by the need for revenge that he hadn't even cared for his long lost best friend. If only he could just find her once and tell her just how sorry he was, how desperately he wanted her back in his life… in both their lives.

At least, one thing had turned out to in their favor. Aaron used to visit that particular red-soiled make out spot after all, so now they knew where to begin their search.

Sam walked around the campus, trying to find his brother. Going through the filing had taken a while, so he did not expect Dean to be hanging around in the parking lot. Sam, however, didn't know where to start looking and the parking lot seemed as good a place as any.

He was still mulling over the case-files, trying his best to keep his mind off other stuff, when he rounded around the corner and the most unexpected scene met his eyes. Dean was sitting on the park bench next to a young girl who was facing away from Sam. She had thick, long blonde hair. From what he could see, Dean was holding her hand, and the two of them were laughing about something.

This was that girl, the one Dean couldn't stop talking about. The girl who was the reason for all of his brother's smiles lately. Sam increased the tempo of steps and soon he was close enough to catch his brother's attention. Dean grinned the moment he saw Sam, turning to the girl besides him.

"Sam," he told the girl, a goofy, proud smile splitting his face, "Meet Sam. He's my brother and nerd extraordinaire. You two will get along."

The girl turned around and Sam's breath caught in his throat. Those eyes, those bright green, brilliant eyes were the ones he could never not notice. He saw them every day of his life.

"You're kidding!" She turned back to face Dean. "Your name is Dean, and your brother's name is Sam? What the hell?"

"What's wrong with that?" Dean asked, and she checked herself, shrugging nonchalantly. Dean seemed to buy it, but to Sam, her expression seemed too perfect, as if she was putting an extra effort into keeping it in place.

"Hey, Dean, why don't you pick up the files from the office? I think I might have left a couple of them on the desk. Get the car while you're coming back."

"Sure thing." Dean winked at the girl once, before walking out of the lot on the other side.

"So?" Sam asked.

"So?" She replied in the same tone. He couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Your name's Violet Y/L/N, isn't it?"

"How do you know?" She immediately sounded wary.

"I read your name in the files," Sam said lightly, but his heart was hammering against his ribs. He didn't know what else to say. The girl was peeking up at him while trying to be furtive about it.

"You're tall," she said out of the blue, and then blushed instantly.

"I get that a lot," Sam said, taking a seat next to her. That's when he saw the stack of thick books. The Stanford flyer sticking out at one end didn’t miss Sam’s attention.

"Hey, if your name's Violet, why does your mother call you Sam?" He asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"How do you know it's my mother who came up with the name?" She narrowed her eyes.

Damn! The girl was too smart for her own good. "Uhhh… it’s a guess," He smiled weakly.

"Well, yeah," she continued, seemingly over her suspicion. "My mom said the name's for good luck. All Sams are smart."

'All Sams are smart.'

"Uhhh yeah," Sam somehow managed through his constricted throat. He was saved from saying anything else as the Impala cruised to a stop right in front of them.

The girl jumped with glee at the sight of the car.

"I think I'm in love with your car!" She squealed, running a hand over the glossy metal body, sighing happily. Dean got out and nodded proudly.

"Me, too."

Dean handed her his card. "Call me if you ever need anything, okay? And I mean anything at all."

She took the card and looked up at him. "You remember the deal right, Deano?"

"Sure do, Shorty," he smiled. 

"Hey, Dean," Violet called. In the next split second she was sprinting towards him.

And like it was the most obvious, most instinctual thing, Dean opened his arms, the girl slamming into his embrace, closing her eyes the moment her cheek pressed into his chest. Dean in turn held her tight, running his hand over her back.

Sam saw the satisfied smile on his brother's face, the absolute adoration with which he held her. Dean pecked Violet lightly on her forehead and she seemed to relax in his hold, both clearly unwilling to let go first. The picture was perfect and surreal.

Sam rolled his eyes upwards, willing the tears pressing his eyes to not roll down, praying for strength so they could face what was obviously coming their way, but most of all trying to behold the absolute jubilation he felt in the moment. How? How had Dean not realized that he was holding his own daughter in his arms?

Please let me know how you liked this chapter?? PRETTY PLEASE? 

If you want to add yourself to the taglist for the series, there’s a link to my taglists in the bio of the blog. Can be accessed only via a computer! ;)

Stroke of luck taglist:

@sdavid09 @grace-for-sale @kas-not-cas @bellastellaluna @thing-you-do-with-that-thing  @benjerry707 @tiny-friggin-human @kaylynnw428 @anarchyrenegade @clairese1980@quixoticcat @sea040561 @chumi-la-chula@girliciousdreams@sofiadiaz04 @soul-of-verity @redeyedvixen @earthtokace @that-never-happened @deanwinchesters-67impala @deevvoon @wackiekebab @brihughes4 @ilsawasanacrobat @deansgrenadelauncher @ohgodwhybloggg @i-just-wanna-live-gc @gabavaldman @betterlatethennever @torn-and-frayed @lavieenlex @you-didnt-see-that-cuming @bringmesomepie56 @akshi8278 @thedevilinthedetails @raventonks19 @sonofabitch-spn @mayasmedberg @escabell @kathaswings @mogaruke @brihughes4 @docharleythegeekqueen @impandagrl @luna-plena-venandi @jotink78 @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @deanssweetheart23 @adaliamalfoy @melonberri @maui137 @winchesterprincessbride @prairiebirdie @dustycelt @its-my-perky-nipples @laurenisnot @iamnotsaneatall @aiaranradnay @escabell @feelmyroarrrr @scrumptiouswinnie @thevioletthourr @mrswhozeewhatsis @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @sandlee44 @thebitterbookeater @applepienjackdaniels @anokhi07 @plainoldblogs @silver-and-green @meeshw777 @liveyourlifemeraki @redunicorn10 @im-a-light-child @deaths-damn-fruit-basket @juanitadiann @sofiadiaz04 @mywillfulwinchester @procratsinator @samdean-67 @captainradicalpassion @1-crazydreamer @jellersquad @gloria1097 @residualgrace @idonthavanaccent @darcy-winters @nakedshowerdean @autopistaaningunaparte @itsmyeffingstory @weasleywinchester @cloverhood @blacktithe7 @emilycollins11 @starmission @notesfromalabprincess @shamelesslydean @captainemwinchester

#daddy!dean #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #reader x dean winchester #dean winchester reader insert #sol 8 #stroke of luck part-8 #Ana writes Dean #anawritesspn #anawrites #q

[funkymeihem-fiction]

Hot Headed, Cold Hearted- Chapter 2 (A Meihem Fanfiction)

She’d been so excited that she had shown up at the launch bay four hours before the ship was supposed to leave the next morning. Everything looked to be ready, she had checked and re-checked all their gear several times over, and probably checked on their food rations every time she had passed by their box, just to be ultra sure. To her relief, they were not the kind that they had sent her off with before, the kind that tasted like they had been at the bottom of some bargain bin for a few centuries too long. Winston’s new stipend had bought them all good food and good supplies, and she made a note to thank him later. He had even provided a book about northern wilderness survival, though she had a feeling that was for the junkers. He also hadn’t even seemed surprised by her wish to include them in her mission, and had made an effort to be polite about the matter when she presented him the paperwork to bring them along…True, he had that little hitch in his voice the entire time he subtly tried to suggest bringing Pharah or McCree or literally anyone else instead of them, but she had been firm. She was going to make this mission work, and improve junker/omnic relations at the same time. Or at the very least, she hoped they’d want to kill each other a little less… She sat on the edge of the launch pad wall, eating a piece of toast and jam and enjoying the morning as Snowball sat beside her, its screen showing a series of dots as it ran a few last-minute diagnostics. The sun rose slowly, dawning cool and clear and bathing the Gibraltar sky with pink and yellow, dotted with fluffy orange clouds. She had even managed to wake up before the local seagulls and there was blissful silence save for the faint crashing of far-off waves against the rocky cliffs, and the crunch of toasted bread between her teeth. Best to enjoy the silence and calm while it lasted, she knew. Even an entire flock of gulls couldn’t compare to the shrill screeching laughter of Junkrat when he got started, and he brought chaos with him wherever he went. The junkers would have to be monitored carefully, all the while trying to also monitor Bastion and its strange behavior, and she had to be prepared to break up any fights and try to smooth things over to begin the healing process... This morning would likely be the only reprieve she would have for the next several days and she needed to enjoy it while she could. The last bite of toast and gooseberry jam left a few crumbs that she brushed from her lap, and there was a soft tweeting trill and a flash of Ganymede’s familiar yellow feathers as the Eichenwalde cardinal fluttered about her in a little circle, landing by her feet and pecking at a few specks of bread before tilting its head up at her. With a few hops, it launched up onto her foot, then her knee, and then onto the wall beside her, tapping its beak curiously at Snowball’s animated screen. The little cryo-drone startled itself awake, emoticon eyes blinking before offering the bird a ^ ^.

Mei smiled, clasping both hands over her chest at the sight. “Aww! Good morning, Ganymede. I guess if you’re here, Bastion isn’t too far behind. Are you both ready to go?” Ganymede offered no reply besides another tilt of its head, ruffling its feathers before fluttering off once more. Sure enough, the loud clanking of the Bastion unit was audible now and steadily moving closer. Rounding the corner, it tucked its gun behind its back and made a rather shy little wave with its hand as its avian companion hopped in circles atop its head. “Doo-da-da.” “Ni hao, Bastion! Good morning to you too. Are you excited for our first trip?” She asked, pulling herself off the stoop to approach the bot. “Wee!” It beeped in the affirmative, then looked past Mei and offered Snowball another wave, mechanical fingers clicking as it wiggled them. Snowball uttered a little warbling noise as it hovered up to join them both, floating just over Mei’s shoulder before it gave the Bastion unit a happy face and a scrolling screen of marquee hearts. Bastion looked a little taken aback, scratching at its chin as its eye turned half red in the middle. Was it…blushing? “Deeeeee-doo-doo-deeeeee.” Mei was just about ready to set off the emergency alarms and summon the entire base over to see this display of nonstop adorableness, but she made herself take a breath, smoothing her hands over the front of her coat before taking Snowball in both arms. “Now Bastion, I did ask you to come a little early because I wanted to just go over a few things with you, is that okay?” She received a nod and continued, “Okay, good. I know you received my message about the junkers joining us and I just wanted to be certain how you felt about things before we leave.” Bastion looked down to the ground, uttering a grinding noise that went down at the end. It didn’t sound very sure at all. “I know that they’re a handful and how they’ve acted towards you and the others. But they’ve been making a lot of progress in other areas, and I think that with a little more work, we might be able to help them see that you and Zenyatta and the rest don’t have anything to do with what happened in Australia and that they can start to let go of those prejudices, right?” With a hopeful nod, she placed a gloved hand on one of the gears of its boxy shoulder. “And you’re the friendliest, cutest bot I’ve ever met. I think in no time at all they’re going to like you too! I’ve made them promise not to do anything mean to you or Ganymede, so we just have to be…um, diplomatic. And I want you to know that if they give you any trouble at all, you should come to me at once. But I know we can do this together, and get our mission done successfully. Speaking of…” She opened her tablet, the holographic display flickering to life over it. Sure enough, Bastion’s interest peaked immediately, stepping forward and searching the map for a moment before bringing its pointer finger towards the little block of northwest Canada. It uttered a questioning chirp, turning towards Mei once more and tapping it twice. “Dee-Bwoo-woo?” “Maybe you can tell me why you’re so interested in this place? You’re my friend, Bastion, and I want you to know that you can tell me anything. What’s in this forest? Why are we going there?” Her brows knitted in concern, biting slightly at her lower lip. The bot paused, then uttered a series of tones that went up and down, staring at the spot on the map and tapping it again before looking at her expectantly. No new information to be had there, but she offered it a little wary smile and adjusted her glasses. “Okay, well…I’m sure we’ll find out once we get there, and then maybe you can tell me? I mean, tell us?” There was a sudden commotion approaching them from the other side of the base, and they all knew at once who it was. “Nan, I’m telling ya! I already got everything, we both do!” Junkrat’s familiar high-pitched whine sounded from the corner. “I’ve got at least fifty pounds of gear for this gig, I don’t need any more. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as ‘long underwear’, did you Roadie? The hell is that all about? Not enough to just constrain this magnificent Australian donger with regular underwear, now I gotta wrap my entire self in it?” Mei sighed, shaking her head. The two junkers entered the docking area, flanked the much smaller figure of Ana, who was fussing over the young man relentlessly, holding a backpack and a sack lunch as she struggled to to reach his head and place a knit snowflake-patterned toboggan atop it. She didn’t seem put off by his crude manners at all, hurrying to keep stride with his limping gait. “And you may be putting up a ruckus now, but you’re going to be glad for all this once you actually get there. My ex-husband is from Canada and I know exactly what the two of you are up against-” Junkrat screeched to a halt, whirling upon her. “Ex-husband?! What’d he do to you, Nan? You want me and Roadie to deal with him while we’re there?” Roadhog rumbled and punched one gigantic spiked fist into his palm menacingly. Ana rolled her remaining eye, shoving the backpack and lunch into Junkrat’s arms. “Jamison, that is Fareeha’s father you are speaking about, you would not be doing anything even if you were anywhere near him. I don’t know why they’re sending you all into a little town like Tentpeg, but it’s going to be cold. Colder than you know. So I packed you a few extra things.” She began rummaging about in yet another bag she pulled from out of her coat. “Extra mittens for if you lose the other two pairs, a scarf or three, some warm socks so you don’t lose that other foot, vitamins, hot cocoa packets, a sweater…Sorry for the tacky sweater, it was the only one I had that might fit you.” Junkrat wrinkled his nose as she pulled out the sweater, giving it an unimpressed look. “The hell is that thing, a cow? Eh, least it looks less bulky than that coat y’got me.” “That’s a moose. And the sweater goes under the coat.” “The fuck it does!?” He blurted out, before his bushy brows lifted suddenly and he clamped both hands over his mouth as Ana began rapidly admonishing him for his language. Mei coughed a little, turning away to stifle her laugh. She had also been wondering how her Australian cohorts were going to handle a Canadian winter. Roadhog, at least, seemed to be handling the concept a bit better. He was already wearing a powder pink knit hat with a pig face and ears, atop his already pig-themed mask. The now double-headed Hog accepted his own winter bag with little more than a low grumble, even when Ana began wrapping at least a mile’s worth of striped scarf around his thick neck. Mei swiftly came to their rescue, bustling over to try and shoo the concerned sniper off them. “Miss Amari, I’m sure they’ll be all right. I have everything checked over, even extra thermal blankets and toothbrushes just in case,” Mei said, before leaning up to the woman’s ear. “And I’ll send you pictures of them all dressed up in the snow, if you want. I plan to take a lot!” Ana offered her a wrinkled grin, her eye creasing with amusement at the thought. “I thought you’d never offer, habibati. Honestly, I’d offer to go with you if I wasn’t busy here. To keep a watch on those two, mainly. But, I suppose they’re even better off with the best cold weather expert we have. But you’re going to have your hands full with two junkers and an omnic, you know.” “I know,” Mei sighed, deflating slightly before straightening up with a little huff. They both turned to eye the men, watching as Junkrat tried to convince his partner to trade hats and was swiftly rebuffed. “But if I can deal with those two out in the desert, I’m sure I can deal with them out in the snow. If they get too hot under the collar, I can send them to chill out! This time they’re going to be on my turf, right?” “That’s the spirit, my tough girl.” Ana clapped her gently on her shoulder and turned to go, before halting abruptly. “Ya lahwy! I almost forgot!” She dug around in the mysterious depths of her coat yet again before withdrawing one more knitted hat, a pale yellow with a pom-pom on top and a buttoned strap, before going to latch it onto Bastion’s boxy head. “I wouldn’t want you to feel left out, hm?” ` The bot touched it reverently, beeping its thanks. “All right, I’ll get out of your hair so you can get on your way. Good luck in Tentpeg, be safe out there! Be good! And warm! Stay warm!” With a last wave, the old sniper rounded the bend and vanished. Junkrat, still wearing his new toboggan despite having no shirt on, lurched up beside Mei and stretched upright, placing his hands on his hips to watch her go. “Best nan I never had, ain’t she? Top ratings. If only she didn’t make the cookies with raisins in ‘em…” Roadhog hefted a crate of their supplies in one arm, lumbering up the ramp to the ship with a low rumble. “Well I know you like the raisin kind, mate, don’t got to rip my head off about it,” Junkrat snapped. “But yeah, you’re right, let’s get moving. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get the hell out. Don’t much fancy the thought of all that snow. You’re real lucky I’m the gallant gent that I am, lovey, braving the ice and gales like I am, all in the name of love! That right there, that’s romance, that is.” “You’re the one who insisted on coming,” she reminded him with a little sly look. “But this is a lot more snow than the places you’ve been sent so far. Romance or not, I don’t want any of you to hesitate to ask for help if you’re having trouble.” “Eh, she’ll be right! Not to worry!” “I mean it, Jamie. I know you’re better at handling the heat than I am, but I lived in Antarctica. It takes a while to get used to the ice and snow. And the cold…Sometimes, the cold can…” Her voice trailed off, expression going slack as her gaze went far away. Mist on her breath…Ice crystals on her eyelashes…the last green dots of a dying battery…a collection of mugs standing like gravestones…nobody even knew they were th- “Oi!” A gravely voice sounded in her ear and then came the familiar nip of sharp teeth against her ear, jolting her from her reverie. “Come on, Mei, come on back.” “Sorry! Sorry, sorry about that, was just thinking again,” she said, shaking her head to clear away the negative thoughts, the little things that always seemed to get caught in the cobwebs in the recesses of her brain. When Junkrat merely squinted at her in some concern, she quickly leaned up to nuzzle her nose against the side of his jaw. “I’m fine, don’t worry. And I’ll be there if you need help with the cold…” She looked around quickly to make sure nobody was in earshot, leaning up again and pretending to adjust his silly toboggan. “I know lots of ways to help keep you warm, I mean?” Steam practically shot out of the man’s ears and she could have sworn his grin widened enough that the edges of his mouth were meeting on the back of his head, barking out a sharp “YEAH!” before lowering his voice back to…well, his usual customary loudness. “Yeah, show me lots of that! Survival techniques! Sexy, sexy survival techniques! Come on, come on, we better get a move on!” He grabbed her hand and started dragging her up the ramp to the ship, eager to get the trip started, ice and snow be damned. ***

Junkrat seemed a little less sure of things a few hours later, with his face pressed to their ship’s window, staring down at the vast landscape of green and white forests below them. He’d begrudgingly put on his moose sweater, though it hung silly and loose on his bony frame, and Mei had even caught him giving a few doubtful glances towards the bulky winter coat sticking out of his pack as the temperature outside continued to drop the further north they went. “Turn the heat up already, will ya? I can feel it in my toes, you want me to lose my foot? You wanna answer to Nan’s wrath when she learns you didn’t keep poor ol’ Junkrat from freezing to death like you promised?” “No, it’s better to get a little acclimated to the cold slowly. And it’s barely even a chill, you’ll be all right.” Mei smacked his hand gently away from the temperature controls, her eyes still on the ship’s onboard map as they neared the tiny dot on the map that represented the town of Tentpeg. The trip had been mercifully quiet and without trouble thus far. Bastion had gone idle almost immediately, and though the junkers had watched it distrustfully at first, eventually they had grown bored and left it to its own devices. For now, Roadhog was snoring softly in his seat in the back, already snug in his winter coat and pig hat, while Bastion sat in a resting posture with its legs drawn up and its boxy body lowered to the ground, only its flickering eyelight hinting that it was alive at all. Mei barely seemed to notice the cold at all, checking the autopilot as she glanced over their schedules again. “We should be arriving in Tentpeg in just a few minutes, everyone. Landing at 5:25 PM. -6 Celsius, so not too bad so far. We can check into our hotel and then erm…have a quick look around the next morning, before we need to head out.” Junkrat’s eyes bulged slightly when she mentioned the temperature, finally relenting and scrambling to grab his parka, awkwardly shoving both arms into it before fumbling with his mittens. “-6 she says, and ‘that’s not bad’? I’ll be a Junksicle in seconds.” He paused, then turned to Mei with an all-too-familiar edge to his grin. “Oi Mei, if I was a Junksicle, would you lick m-” “Ānjìng! Shh!” She tossed a scarf into his face, interrupting him and leaving him to unwind it as she focused on the manual controls. The ship was starting to approach a crude landing area- Really more of a clearing outside of town than an actual landing area- as the snow fell steadily outside, blowing gently against the windshield. The town below was barely that. She had read that Tentpeg had been established for logging, ages ago, and had always been a tiny and rather destitute place. There had been attempts to rebrand it into a tourist destination, but it was further north than tourists really wanted to go. Now the only things left here were a few scattered service buildings and houses, and the hotel they would be staying at while she looked into things. The ship wavered slightly as she set it down, turning around in her seat. “Okay, everyone! We’re here!” The others began stirring. Coats were put on, seatbelts clicked, and bags were gathered, before they all stood at the cargo doors. Mei clicked the button, and with a whir, they slowly opened. The cold creeped in as soon as the seal breached, little flakes of white and blue swirling around their feet. The little climatologist stood at the front, bearing the brunt of it as Snowball hovered beside her. Her companions did not face it quite as bravely. Ganymede fluffed up and retreated underneath Bastion’s hat, squirming under the rim for relative shelter, and even the stalwart Roadhog, larger than ever with his layers of coats and gear, took a half step backward. Junkrat squealed and hid behind his bodyguard as though he would shield him from this like he had shielded him from everything else. But the cold had already swept in, and any warmth left in the ship was smothered and gone within seconds. Mei, already rose-cheeked and smiling comfortingly, gestured them forward. “I know it’s a little chilly at first, but you’ll acclimate. Why don’t we all get to the hotel and get warm and settle in, and we’ll all have dinner and celebrate your first cold weather mission. Go science division…and friends! Hooray, us!” Junkrat, already huddling miserably into his coat and scarf with barely his eyes peeking out in a little strip just above, scrambled forward. “Are you trying to bloody kill us, woman?! Standing around in the cold? This ain’t natural! Which way’s that hotel? Can’t believe I ever agreed to- WAAAUUGH!” He rushed past her, sights set on the buildings up ahead, and stepped off the ramp. His weight hit the top of the smooth white and he immediately sank in up past his knees, toppling forward as he tried to brace himself before falling. He vanished from sight into the snowbank, leaving behind a distinctly Junkrat-shaped impression like some warped version of a snow angel. The rest of them stood watching, Bastion tilting its head as Roadhog snorted a low, “Idiot.” From the safety of the ramp there was a flash, as Mei grinned and took a picture.

#meihem #junkmei #meirat #fanfiction #junkrat #jamison fawkes #mei #mei-ling zhou #roadhog #mako rutledge #bastion #overwatch #blizzard #writing #funkymeihem #funkyfluff

[garlicjuice]

One Morning at Green Rose Café

http://empty-movement.tumblr.com/post/164615156664/empty-movement-empty-movement

Nanami and Saionji meet at a café to talk, inevitably about their past experiences at Ohtori. Post-anime series. ‘Cause I haven’t read the manga yet.

Fun Fact: Probably the first and last time I ever write a fanfic.

Green Rose Café had always been Saionji’s favorite little eatery since he and the Kiryuus moved away from Houou City. Denying the obvious egotistical reason, his constant claim for frequenting the place was the nostalgic atmosphere. He had stated it reminded him of the three’s teenaged days at Ohtori Academy; the dimly lit, almost green tinted wood walls made Saionji reminisce of the old kendo training hall, and the pretty cabana that was always packed for a good look of the sprawling city outside let memories of surveying the campus over the Student Council room creep in his mind.

Plus, he thought while sipping black tea one chilly morning, the fact that Nanami was a barista here made him feel kind of obligated to come. And speak of the devil, Saionji thought again as the girl walked over, her break starting. He made sure to look like a cool, suave older man by crossing his legs, pushing up his purple-tinted circle-frames (his wardrobe had had a drastic evolution), and closing his eyes as he thoughtfully took in another sip of tea. In the earlier days of her working here, Nanami would have constant coffee stains on her apron and fits of releasing her pent up frustration the moment she got back to the apartment. Touga would always comment on how he was surprised she hadn’t yet been fired, and, flustered, the fussy blonde would retort that his work as a newspaper film critic didn’t pay the damn rent. A once adoring little sister now took her brother’s words and actions with many, many grains of salt. Saionji hated to admit it - in fact, he swore he’d never admit it no matter what - but he liked that Nanami had found some independence. Of course, no matter what life lessons she learned, that girl would always be high maintenance, he had recently chuckled to himself. Looking at her now, Nanami’s apron was spotless. But her eyes were weary. She grabbed a seat across from the green haired hipster, plopped down on the gaudy magenta cushion, and released the complaining floodgates. “I haaaaate how packed this place gets in the afternooooon!” It was almost like mooing from an agitated cow. “I have no time to collect myself, or fix my hair or anything at all! I mean, I like working here,” she went on, taking a breath, “but it’s so tough!” Saionji chuckled out loud to show Nanami he found her words silly. Of course, on the inside he sympathized with her. But like hell he’d let her know that. “That’s what life is all about, Nanami. You need to work hard to achieve your goals. Take my kendo, for example. I wouldn’t be this region’s champion without constant practice, everyday.” He made sure to emphasize “constant practice” with two taps on the table, but the disgruntled girl he was lecturing just glared. “I obviously understand that. I’m not as… prissy and stuck up as I was, when I was younger.” She latched onto Saionji’s teacup and took a loud gulp herself, triggering a sharp “Hey!” from the man. “And besides,” she slammed the cup down, “you’re more like the region’s city’s neighborhood’s champion. No, wait - change city to small town.” Now it was Nanami’s time to pompously chuckle. She grabbed a still-wrapped straw to stir the tea, smirking. Saionji held back a snappy comment. They weren’t bickering children, like they used to be, but most of their conversations still ended up in such a way. “Regardless… you should be thankful you’re doing well in life.” “I am,” she insisted. “I don’t have other girls doing my work anymore. I can do things on my own perfectly fine.” “I understand that, and I wasn’t implying you couldn’t. In fact, I think quite the opposite.” Nanami stopped stirring and looked up with a raised eyebrow. “…Unusual of you to compliment anyone.” “Er, I - wasn’t.” Saionji pushed up his glasses again, this time awkwardly. “I was merely stating the facts.” Silence. The man could tell the both of them were squirming and panicking inside for a topic change. Finally, Nanami spoke. “Speaking of other girls, I wonder how Keiko and Aiko and Yuko all are doing. I haven’t been in touch for a while…” she then looked down in what seemed to be shame, her eyes catching a speck of dust on the green floorboards. “Or thought about them, really…” Saionji only stared at Nanami, knowing if he spoke his words would be kind and supportive. So he chose to keep silent. “I was incredibly… snooty back then.” A small self deprecating chuckle. “I wonder how the Student Council put up with me, especially onii-san. …Well, I knew that you all clearly didn’t like me, but you never didn’t talk to me, or ever kick me out of the Council.” She looked up and locked eyes with Saionji, honing a more determined expression, expecting a reassuring counterpoint to her pitying words. But he just coughed and replied, “That’s because Touga appointed you as the acting President. We wouldn’t go against his word. Not without a strong, valid reason, I might add.” There was a millisecond of quiet as the girl took the answer in. Her expression changed to a kind of solemn understanding. “Well, yes, yes, I know. …Either way, if I could realize that Keiko and the girls were only friends with me to get close to onii-san, then I’d say I’ve changed a lot.” “You have. You’ve matured a lot.” Before Saionji could realize what he said, he snappily grabbed the teacup and drank to hide his pink cheeks. The one-two punch of a nice comment and quick snatching motion startled Nanami. Something as simple as complimenting others could get him flustered. Or… maybe just this one specific other. Her one brow raised yet again. “Thanks…” She scooted her chair in closer. “Have I, uh, ever mentioned that this place reminds me of Ohtori’s kendo room?” “Oh…?” Saionji laughed. “Well, now that you mention it, I can see the resemblance, certainly,” he fronted not having made that same observation before. “Don’t lie,” Namami cooed teasingly, “I bet the moment you stepped in here for the first time you thought of that.” He frowned, eyes lowering in irritation. “Hrm. Well. Regardless, it seems like our pasts are coming back to tug on our sleeves this morning.” “Tell me about it,” Nanami let out a melancholic sigh. “Now I’d rather be angry about work than have all that clog my mind.” “…Well, there were good things that happened to us at Ohtori Academy, too.” “You literally got expelled from there.” “Dammit woman, I’m trying to cheer you up!” Saionji slammed his fist on the table, half standing up. Uh oh. Nanami just gazed up in shock. “I mean - you know!” He rapidly sat back down. “I held high positions like Kendo captain, and I was the Vice President of the Council. I had adoring underclassmen as well. I’d say I was set up for a great life once I graduated.” Such grandiose statements were paired with his arms crossing and a big grin. “But you were an asshole to the underclassmen and everyone, and your swordsmanship was clearly lacking considering how many times you lost the Rose Bride. That list seems more like a narcissist’s resumé rather than happy school memories.” “You just love to project your negativity onto me, don’t you?!” Nanami giggled, raising a hand to her cheek, channeling her bombastic laughs of the past. “Think of it as a trick of the light.” “…What is that even supposed to mean?!” “Nevermind. And I wasn’t projecting, I’m just being honest.” She then folded her hands together and rested them under her chin. “But fine, I’ll indulge you. I guess I had some good times, like… uhmm… I… huh.” The girl just sat there, brows knitted, deep in thought.    Sadness then enveloped her face, but it quickly became charged with anger.    “That place was horrible!”    “Now, Nanami, calm-”    “Don’t you remember the creepy chairman? Or how creepy that Anthy girl was? And how much of a - a stubborn jerk onii-san was?!” She viciously threw her head into her hands and repeatedly stomped her feet. “And like I said earlier, I was horrible and stupid too! Everything there was horrible and stupid, stupid, stupid! My only real friend was Tsuwabuki, and even then I just used him!”    Saionji leaned over, his hand reaching out to grasp her shoulder. “Nanami, please calm down!”    She stopped thrashing. The poor blonde had gallons of tears in her eyes, streaming down to her pursed lips and dripping off her sharp chin.    “I… I suppose I’m sorry that Ohtori was brought up. But… that place… It doesn’t matter now. We’re away from all of that. And as I stated earlier, you have matured. You’re a changed woman.” As much as he hated the illuminated feeling in his blushing face, now was not the time to hide it. … “I think I can say… I admire that about you.” Nanami looked right up. Her expression was a mingled mess of taken aback confusion, and being utterly dazed as if she hadn’t heard a word he said. But then she grit her teeth in an act of annoyance. “What’s with you today? You’re complimenting me so much, and you made me cry!” “Nanami.” “What?!” “Would you… want to come back here later, after work?” “…And why, exactly?” “To just get some tea. And chat. I’d prefer not to, but I know you’re a talkative type.” The frustration on her face quickly morphed into surprise. “Oh, uh. Sure. Sure thing…” “Good.” He finally released her shoulder and relaxed back into his chair. “Now, think about what I said and get back to work. I believe your break is almost over.” “You don’t need to tell me what to do, I see the clock right there. Jeez…” Grumbling, she slowly got up and wiped her eyes. As Nanami walked briskly back to the counter, a tired looking customer shuffled in, officially separating the two from their heart to heart. But then the blonde turned around, with a mischievous grin. “See you later, Sai-chan!” “Don’t you dare start calling me that!”

#The Great Green and Yellow Garbage Fire Challenge #nanami kiryuu #kyouichi saionji #empty-movement #nanami kiryuu x kyouichi saionji #utenaaa! #august 2017

[blondthndrninja]

Yowamushi Pedal: Relationship Analysis on unlikely pairing

If anyone of you has watching Yowamushi Pedal like I have, you would know that Onoda, the little blessed otaku, is the greatest cinnamon roll to ever exist in a sports anime. I mean, he literally went from ‘no way am I ever going to be involved in a sport’ to ‘cycling is fun’ and through that he’s obviously made a lot of gains in friendship and *cough* potential relationships. Now obviously, there’s a lot of potential pairings in this series that could involve Onoda, I mean it’s shipping hell really...he might as well be in an otome game. 

Well this rant concerns one relationship that has really stuck out to me, and oddly enough Pixiv has a lot of fan art of these two: Makishima and Onoda. Yes, I know this pairing really isn’t as popular as others but when I saw how popular it was on Pixiv I started wondering what people saw...and needless to say...I had no idea that this pairing had potential. So here are a few of reasons why I think this is an interesting pairing. (Warning: contains spoilers)

1. Their relationship is a slow build-up. 

At first, Makishima doesn’t think much of Onoda when he watches Onoda go against Imaizumi, but when Onoda catches up and faces off Imaizumi for the top of the peak he grows interested and even cheers Onoda on at one point. It was when Onoda took the peak that Makishima realized the potential Onoda had and started taking an interest in him. When Onoda first rides with Makishima he’s nervous because Makishima is well...scary. Not to mention they had nothing in common and had the hardest time talking to each other. When Onoda asks Makishima what he’s interested in and Makishima answers “Gravure” it’s followed by dead silence. Later Makishima admits he’s bad at socializing and is better able to communicate by climbing. Seeing Makishima climb then inspires Onoda who calls Makishima “cool” and means it. Makishima of course is taken aback by this since no one has ever described his climbing style as cool. He also has no understanding of why Onoda likes those capsule toys and is taken aback when Onoda takes pictures of one he assembled, but later when he sees the same toy, the Black Manyu, on Imaizumi’s water bottle he asks Imaizumi to trade with him and gives the water bottle with the Manyu to Onoda because he knew Onoda would like it and he probably wanted to look like a cool senpai. Also, during the Inter-High when Tadokoro fell behind because he was feeling ill Onoda offered to go get him. Makishima held his doubts at first but then placed his trust in Onoda and sent him off while the rest of the team moved forward. Onoda ended up keeping his promise and Makishima ended up being glad that he placed his trust in his kohai. There was a lot of trust placed in Onoda until the end. Also seeing Makishima hug Onoda was really cute considering this guy probably isn’t a body-contact type of person.

2. Makishima helped make Onoda stronger. 

Of course, one could argue that there were a lot of people who contributed to Onoda growing stronger but as far as climbing goes and the Inter-High, Makishima was primary source of advice to Onoda. He was the one who pointed out that Onoda’s tires had been changed because he felt it wasn’t fair that Kinjou didn’t explain to Onoda that his bike had been modified while Imaizumi and Naruko were aware of the modifications on their bikes. By explaining to Onoda about the modifications and how to overcome the challenge Onoda was once again encouraged. Kinjou of course, thought Onoda should figure it out on his own but Makishima insisted that Onoda needed a push in the right direction. Makishima also explained to Onoda a lot about how the Inter-High works and the challenges that are presented at this event. Even after the Inter-High before leaving for England Makishima gives Onoda advice on how to pedal on the new yellow BMC he received. 

3. These two actually have a lot in common.

As senpai and kohai these two clicked, and it turns out they were never that different from each other. If anyone watches Spare Bike and sees Makishima as a first-year you can definitely see some similarities he had with Onoda. Both were awkward in their own ways. Onoda didn’t have friends when he first entered high school and was only interested in anime. Makishima of course was seen as a social outcast and was used to being alone when it came to climbing. (Not to mention both singing while riding, lol.) Both are earnest in their feelings, like when Makishima told Kanzaki that he loved riding bikes. Onoda is also earnest in his feelings when he expresses them as we’ve seen repeatedly, such as when he gives Makishima 10 keychains because he wanted to express his gratitude. Both also are prone to knowing when something bad is happening such as when Tadokoro got sick and Makishima had a bad feeling that Tadokoro was still going to be sick the next day. Before Makishima left for England Onoda developed a bad feeling and ended up deciding to go with Makishima on that climb because...he knew something was up. 

4. Onoda really misses Makishima.

Granted, Makishima probably should have told Onoda that he was planning to go to England instead of leaving so abruptly. Although he did not leave without a heartfelt good-bye, telling Onoda to take care of Sohoku and patting him on top of the head.  He also tells Onoda that no matter where he is he’d always be riding beside him. (And boy did that give me the feels.) After Makishima leaves, Onoda struggles a lot because Makishima isn’t there...he still feels like he needs him. Luckily Teshima steps into this role and mentors Onoda who is still coping with Makishima being gone. Onoda also admits during his next race that Makishima is the coolest climber and uses this motivation to beat Ashikiba. Yes, Makishima becomes Onoda’s motivation.

So you see, there is a lot of potential with these two. As a senpai and kohai relationship, these two are definitely close. Makishima means a lot to Onoda and in return Onoda means a lot to Makishima. They’re both very sensitive, kind-hearted individuals with a lot of similarities even though they seem vastly different. And this is why these two are pairing material to some people. As I said before, Pixiv has a surprising amount of fan art of these two. You just have to put in: 巻坂

-BTN

#yowapeda #yowamushi pedal #makiono #makisaka #makishima yuusuke #onoda sakamichi #makishima X onoda #yes it exists #senpai and kohai #yowamushi pedal: next generation

[artificialqueens]

Just The Game We're In- Chapter 7, Part 1 (Ortega)

A/N: hello all i’m v tired!!!!! here is part one of two of chapter 7 bc i didn’t want to subject mobile users to mental amounts of scrolling again! thank u to everyone that’s shown love and interest in this fic, it honestly warms my heart and means the world to me. sadly, I can’t say when you’ll all see me again. I start my job in 2 weeks and I don’t have part 2 written yet, but i’m going to try to make time for writing so that you guys aren’t left hanging. i love and appreciate u!!! thanks to the amazing Dottie, my aq brits gals, and especially pureCAMP who motivated me to write the final two sections with a speed that will probably never be paralleled again. love u all!!!!

Plot Summary: Willam is a senior political advisor to the government’s minister for social affairs and citizenship, Sharon Needles. Throw in a crush on co-worker Courtney, Sharon acting weird around Willam’s colleague Alaska, an incompetent press department headed by Actual Living Zombie Jinkx Monsoon, and Willam’s job couldn’t get much more stressful. No wonder spin doctor Bianca Del Rio is permanently at the end of her tether…

Finishing the final line in the leaflet she’d been working on, Willam hit the save button in satisfaction. Looking around her desk, she immediately tried to find the to-do list she’d made and crossed off Refugee Housing Policy Literature. She leaned back in her chair and stretched, her back cracking as she interlocked her fingers and lifted her arms high into the air. How long had she been sitting at her desk? Casting an eye over to the clock, she was a little taken aback when she realised it was 5pm. Even if the clock hadn’t been there she probably could have told the time by the office’s human equivalent of a sundial; the comms team were packing up their things, pulling their coats on, and making to leave.

Willam supposed she wasn’t that surprised she’d lost track of time. Truth be told, she had almost lost track of what day it was. For the past two months she’d cocooned herself in her work, throwing herself into each job Sharon gave them as Bianca’s hint at a promotion replayed over and over in her mind like a screensaver. It had been all go at the department pretty much since Sharon’s plane had hit the tarmac at Heathrow airport; her presentation at Brussels had been incredibly well-received and the approval from so many other countries pretty much pressured the Prime Minister into backing the policy and giving it the green light, much to the delight of the department and the chagrin of the opposition. Over the past few weeks, Willam had taken the lead in crafting responses to jabs from Phi Phi both in the media and in parliament, organising positive coverage and press opportunities from the newspapers, and creating the literature that would be given out at the policy’s official launch a month away. She was exhausted, but it was a good exhaustion, like how Willam imagined a runner would feel after completing a sprint- she wouldn’t know, she hadn’t run since she was in school- but this job was a sort of series of sprints, Willam supposed. It was fast-paced and intense and sometimes utterly terrifying, but the euphoria at the end was so worth it.

She honestly hadn’t given Courtney a second thought. And her heart definitely didn’t still jump a little as she looked over to her desk and saw her getting ready to go home. In reality, Willam knew that if she wanted to move up the ladder, she didn’t have time to start anything with anyone, not that Courtney wanted to start anything with her, clearly. Which was fine. Willam was okay with that, in fact she was completely over it. The whole thing had just been a stupid crush, totally fleeting. Courtney was just her friend, that was all.

As Courtney approached her desk, Willam made that little speech to herself in her mind, just to remind herself that if any old feelings decided to pop up during their conversation, it was just a false alarm. Like a fire drill. Not real feelings, just her heart playing tricks on her.

Work was more important.

“Hey,” Courtney smiled, looking at Willam and then at the clock. “A bunch of us are going over to Pearl’s flat for dinner if you want to join. It’ll probably descend into a wine night, and I’ve told them a million times that I have to be up early tomorrow, but of course they won’t listen. You in?”

Courtney’s face seemed so hopeful, and it reminded Willam of how she’d looked at her when she’d asked her to stay at her flat all those months ago, and then when she’d asked her to stay in her bed. Her heart felt as if it was being wrung out. Fire drill, fire drill.

“It sounds great, but I’m going to stay and look at these polls Bianca sent over,” Willam quirked her mouth into an apologetic grimace. Seeing Courtney’s bright expression falter a little, Willam felt compelled to add something that would make it better. “Like you said, early start tomorrow, right?”

Just as Willam had hoped, the smile was back on Courtney’s face. “Oh I’m super excited! The weather’s supposed to be really nice too, and the hotel is apparently amazing!”

Willam couldn’t help but crack a smile. “The weather’s not going to matter. We’ll be stuck in conference rooms 90% of the time. Do you think we can ask to do all the debates outside like in primary school?”

As Courtney gave an amused laugh, Willam felt her heart thud in her chest. Tucking her hair behind her ears, Courtney gave her a shy sort of smile.

“Still, even if it is going to be work guising as a weekend away, I’m looking forward to it. I’m so excited for us to spend time together again,” she said softly, then gave a sort of cough and backed up. “As in, like, all of us. Me, you, Alaska, Sharon. It’ll be fun.”

Willam tried to stop herself reading into what Courtney had said. Fire drill. “Yeah, no. It’ll be good.”

Courtney sort of awkwardly hovered at Willam’s desk, her eyes cast almost nervously to the floor. Willam felt as if she was made entirely of ice, not wanting to move in case she scared her away as if Courtney was some sort of forest animal. Just as Courtney opened her mouth to speak again, Trixie yelled from across the department.

“Is she coming or what? I’m fucking starving!”

Courtney furrowed her brow and flared her nostrils, seemingly annoyed at being interrupted. “No, she’s staying to do work.”

Katya tilted her head to the side and gave Willam an awed look in response to the information. “You’re staying past five again? What the fuck, Willam? You’ve been working harder than Rihanna and Fifth Harmony combined!”

“Well some of us have got to get shit done around here,” Willam shrugged nonchalantly. Turning back to Courtney, she couldn’t help her face softening. “Have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early!”

Courtney gave a small laugh she didn’t quite seem committed to. “Can’t wait. Night, Will.”

As Courtney walked away from her desk, Willam noticed her shoulders were sort of slumped.

“Alaska! Pearl’s?” Adore shouted, distracting Willam. Alaska made a pouty face.

“Can’t. I’ve still got the debrief from Brussels to write up,” she groaned, leaning on her palm with her chin.  

“That was due ages ago! Sharon’s going to kill you,” Violet gasped, shocked. Alaska leaned back in her chair, her poker face excellent.

“Not if Bianca gets there first. Enjoy your night, ladies.”

Shouting goodbyes across the department, Willam took a moment to think about the weekend ahead. She supposed it wasn’t really the weekend per se; tomorrow was Friday, but it was also the very first day of the party conference, also known as the biggest piss-up of the political calendar. Comms members were left behind in order for MPs, cabinet ministers and their political advisors to let off steam. Sure, the days were filled with debates, speakers and networking, but the evenings were reserved for debauchery. Much as Willam had been throwing herself into her work, she was secretly looking forward to a chance to let her hair down a bit, and even if that chance was only at a Hilton hotel in the South of England then she’d still take it. Her excitement was balanced by a little nervousness, though. Over the weekend Sharon would properly present her policy to the members of her own party for the first time, and the rumblings within the party revealed that there were several ministers who were still frosty towards Dosac as a result of the entire legacy fiasco. Willam could only hope that Sharon would be able to turn the charm on as she was usually able.

Just then, Sharon came out of her office a little furtively, walking towards Alaska’s desk and scanning the office.

“Is that everyone gone?” she asked, her voice low but still audible. Alaska smiled up at her girlfriend, clearly happy to be able to drop the professional charade.

“It’s just Willam. So we’re all good,” she beamed. Sharon smiled back at her and sat on her desk, leaning in and kissing Alaska’s forehead gently.

“I still have a functioning set of eyeballs so let’s keep everything U-rated, you gross sons of bitches,” Willam snorted, trying to pretend she was disdainful but really felt her heart both warming and breaking at how affectionate the two of them were. Alaska moved her mouse with one hand while Sharon held her other, their fingers laced together. Sharon took some time out from gazing adoringly at her girlfriend to shoot a glare Willam’s way.

“That’s a shame, we were looking forward to doing that very secret and bad thing we do with your Sharpies after you go home,” she drawled, earning a snort from Alaska.

“So how are you guys even going to function this weekend anyway? I don’t suppose the hotel’s going to conveniently fuck up another booking?” Willam smirked, clicking onto her emails at the same time. Alaska rolled her eyes.

“Do you think we have a combined IQ of four? No, of course not,” she laughed, then looked up at Sharon. “It’s going to be good old-fashioned sneaking around. Sharon will get a double bed so we just have to make sure the hallways are clear every time I’m going to hers. It’ll be easy.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be very easy. I mean it’s not like the entire party and all their advisors are going to be staying in the same hotel or anything,” Willam looked pointedly at her, feeling a little exasperated.

“Trust me, Willam, we’ll be careful. Just like we’ve been these past five months.”

Trying not to shake her head, Willam just exhaled deeply. She was happy for them both, but she was probably never going to stop worrying about their ticking time bomb of a relationship and how long they both had until they were found out. If they weren’t worried about it, then surely someone had to be? Looking across at them both, she bit her tongue as she saw that Alaska had turned around in her chair and now had both of her hands in Sharon’s, the minister leaning in giving her a sweet kiss. Out of respect, or perhaps nausea, Willam averted her eyes back to her monitor. Sure enough, the polls were there in a mass email from Bianca, along with a reminder of the bi-elections in May. It seemed ridiculously early for a reminder already, but Willam supposed that was how politics worked. Support had to be drummed up well in advance, and she reasoned that she’d probably be approached at the conference by a lot of hopeful potential MPs wanting to worm their way into the House of Commons. Clicking on the PDF file, she scrolled through pie charts and graphs searching for relevant statistics. She was suddenly distracted by a ringing from the phone in Sharon’s office. Looking up, she furrowed her brow at Alaska and Sharon, similar confusion painted over both their faces. Calls weren’t supposed to go through to Sharon’s office unless they had been vetted by Jinkx, and Jinkx had already left. If it was Bianca or somebody else from within the party, they’d contact Sharon’s iPhone.

“Hmm. Weird. I’ll answer that and then we can head back to mine? I’m making lamb,” Sharon said proudly, then swung her legs off Alaska’s desk and walked through to her office.

As she heard Sharon’s muffled voice answer the phone, Willam finally found the statistics she’d been looking for. Screwing her face up, she slowly read the numbers in front of her again. They couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be possible.

“Alaska,” Willam yelled over to her friend. “Have you read the polls Bianca sent over?”

Alaska simply shook her head. Willam spoke again. “Read them and go to page 56. I’m not quite sure I’m seeing what’s in front of me.”

Alaska dutifully followed Willam’s orders. Willam watched as she clearly reached the page she was talking about, her face completely falling in shock. “Oh shit. This is bad.”

As Willam turned to Sharon’s office, she was only shocked further when she saw the minister standing by her desk, her face as white as a sheet and the minister very visibly shaken. Concerned, Willam rose from her seat and made her way to her office, Alaska following behind. As they walked into the glass-fronted office, Sharon turned to both of them, her expression one of fear.

“What is it? Who was phoning?”

Sharon wordlessly pressed a single button on the phone and the conversation began to replay.

“Hello, Sharon Needles, Minister for Dosac?”

A male voice- aggressive, hissing. “You’re fucking dead the next time I see you, you fucking traitor bitch.”

“…sorry?”

“You fucking heard me, you cunt. I’m going to throw acid in your face then make sure you’re fucking hanged, you quisling bitch.”

“How did you get this number?”

“You should be more concerned about the fact that I’m going to make sure you fucking die, you terrorist sympathiser cunt! Watch your fucking back.”

With that, there was the sound of an empty telephone line, the flatline a start contrast to Willam’s own heart, which was hammering in her ribcage. Alaska, who had previously been standing with her mouth wide in shock, omitted a little squeak and rushed behind the desk to hold her girlfriend, the both of them visibly upset. Death threats to politicians were unfortunately common, but this was the first time Willam had ever had to deal with a physical phone call, most of the abuse being able to be ignored on social media. This was different- a voice, a person, someone who had physically sought out a phone number that was incredibly difficult to obtain, and this made Willam nervous. Looking at Sharon again, she could see that she was still fearful, her whole body language tense. Alaska was crying, her frame shaking as she tried to quieten her sobs, tears rolling down her face and dropping onto the floor.

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay. Nobody’s going to hurt you,” she whispered, her voice shaky and breath irregular. Sniffing, her voice suddenly grew dark and, releasing her hold on Sharon, she turned to Willam.

“I want that fucking scum put away tonight. I’m phoning Bianca. We need to track the number. I’ll fucking kill him,” she said, storming out of the office. Willam had never seen Alaska this angry- her fists were physically clenched as if she was about to fight, and her jaw was clenched tight.

“Alaska, don’t phone Bianca-” Willam began, as Alaska returned to the office with her mobile. Seething, Alaska whipped round to Willam, her eyes wide in their sockets.

“What the fuck? Of course I’m phoning Bianca, this is fucking serious! We need to get this fucking rotted, disgusting filth locked away! How the fuck are you okay with this?!”

“I’m not okay with it at all!” Willam cried, instantly realising she needed to calm Alaska down. Sharon looked resignedly at her girlfriend.

“Baby, it’s okay, I’m fine-”

“No, you’re not fine! You’ve just received a threat on your life, how can you be fine?!” Alaska yelled in outrage as she tried to scroll at her phone but was prevented by her hands shaking furiously.

“Alaska, you need to calm down,” Willam said softly, Sharon stepping out from behind her desk and wrapping her arms around the taller girl. Heaving a huge sigh Alaska sank into the hug, her face a sort of mix of seething and upset. Taking a moment to clear her head, Willam spoke again.

“Look, I’ll phone Bianca. I’ll also ask her to phone the police. She should have contacts that won’t leak so we can ensure this stays completely out of the media. We’ll make sure you’ve got security- I’ll phone the lobby and make sure you’ve got someone that’ll take you to your car when you leave the offices. That’s all we can do at the moment,” Willam added apologetically, feeling bad for Sharon. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Sighing, Sharon nodded. “I’m fine. It’s just never happened to me before, you know, an actual phone call. It was just an empty threat, these things always are. I mean, you’re not exactly going to warn a politician before you kill them, are you?”

Alaska tensed up. “Sharon, don’t say that.”

“Well all I’m saying is, they know that this shit is only going to result in tighter security. It’s just an empty threat, they want to see me rattled. Which is exactly what I’m not going to give them.”

Willam reflected on what the man had said. “Do you think this is about all you’re doing for the refugees?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, just his choice of words. Traitor, quisling, terrorist sympathiser. They’re classic EDL buzzwords for anyone that wants to let in any migrants at all, never mind ones fleeing war.”

Sharon was silent, looking to the floor in contemplation. Willam took that as an invitation to continue. “Would it be an idea to quieten down on the housing policy and maybe focus on another area of social affairs? We don’t want this to become anything bigger.”

Sharon narrowed her eyes at Willam, her gaze snapping up from the floor. “No. This is exactly what bigots like him want, they want me to stop trying to do something. In a few months, people like him are still going to be as angry about this policy as they are now. There is no way I’m letting this derail anything.”

Still a little uncomfortable, Willam watched as Sharon sighed, then pulled out of the hug and gave Alaska a reassuring smile.

“Are you sure you want to still go to the party conference?” Willam asked hesitantly, Sharon instantly shutting her down.

“Willam, I said this wouldn’t interrupt anything, okay? I’m fine. Everything is business as usual.”

Sucking a breath in through gritted teeth, Willam decided to broach the subject of the polls. “Okay, well if everything is still business as usual. I should probably let you know…you’re ten points behind in the polls.”

Sharon’s mouth dropped open. “Ten points, what the fuck?! What the hell have I done, blended a baby, a puppy and a kitten together in a fucking KitchenAid?!”

Alaska sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “It might be because of your policy. The public knew you were left wing, but could deal with it as long as you weren’t doing anything. People are annoyed you’re doing your job.”

“Fucking fabulous,” Sharon hissed. Alaska shot Willam a glare as if to thank her for ruining their previously romantic evening. Feeling guilty, Willam crossed to Sharon’s desk and picked up her handbag.

“Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out and fix it. I’ll even get Courtney involved,” Willam said as she handed the minister her bag, regretting her last sentence as soon as it was out her mouth. “You guys just go enjoy your night, okay? Or at least try.”

Both Sharon and Alaska gave her a smile of gratitude, Sharon taking her back from Willam’s grasp. “Thanks, Willam. You’re a gift.”

Alaska smirked, seemingly a little more cheerful. “We’ll be thinking of you when she’s got three fingers in my-”

“GO HOME,” Willam yelled, cutting her friend off, her disgust muted at her relief that the couple seemed a lot happier again as they both laughed softly, linked arms and began to leave the office.

The calm and quiet of the department contrasted the instant pile-up of tasks in Willam’s head. Heading to Sharon’s phone and ringing down to the lobby for security, she resigned herself to the fact that it was going to be a long night.

***

Heaving her trundle suitcase down the very final step in her stairwell, Willam pushed open her door and entered into the crisp morning air. It was, for now, a cold day, but there was still the promise of it getting warmer as the sun began to rise over the horizon. Rubbing her eyes a little, she stifled a yawn. As she looked at the time, Willam cursed whoever had booked the hotel so far away. Still, she was a little excited at the prospect of getting out of London. Sharon’s driver was meant to be picking them all up at 6am, but Willam had been texted by Alaska and made aware they were running a little late.

Willam was pretty exhausted. She’d been up all night analysing the polls and figuring out a way to combat Sharon’s falling approval ratings, finally coming up with an answer. She supposed she would have been quicker if she’d contacted Courtney and told her all that had gone on at the department after she’d left, but she hadn’t wanted to ruin her night with the comms girls. Besides, the thought of spending time alone with Courtney wasn’t exactly the most appealing thing to her right now.

Her thought process was interrupted as a sleek black car with blacked-out windows pulled up into Willam’s street.

Well, it’s either Sharon or a long-overdue hitman.

As the car arrived beside her, a single window was lowered to reveal Sharon in a huge pair of sunglasses. Beaming a smile, she shouted out to Willam just as the boot of the car popped open.

“Get in loser, we’re going to engage in stimulating, politically-driven conferences and debates!”

As Willam rolled her eyes and lifted her case into the boot, sitting it beside Alaska’s and Sharon’s, she heard the muffled voice of Alaska from inside the car say something about constantly wondering why she was attracted to her girlfriend. Opening the other side door, Willam climbed inside and sat opposite the couple.

“Hey. How was your night?” Willam asked politely, feeling small-talk would be appropriate before she launched into work matters. Alaska gave a long-suffering sigh and took Sharon’s hand.

“We ended up getting a sub-par chippy because someone’s lamb shanks were so raw they could’ve walked out the fucking oven.”

“Hey, nobody ever told me you had to cook lamb for approximately six hundred years!” Sharon cried incredulously, then laughing as Alaska broke out into a smile beside her. Feeling it was too early for such displays of affection, Willam decided to change topic.

“So, before we do anything else, I think I figured out the drop in the polls,” she began, getting her phone out to illustrate her plan before hearing Sharon groan opposite her.

“Willam, it’s six in the morning. Can we at least wait til the sun’s up before we start talking work?”

“Hey, I’m proud of this idea! I think you’ll like it,” Willam insisted. As Sharon simply rolled her eyes in response, Willam carried on. “Your decrease in approval ratings is mainly amongst the over 40s demographic. So, instead of trying to win them back, we’re going to balance them with the 18 to 25s.”

“Fuck,” Alaska sighed, Sharon bringing her hands up to her face then dragging them down her cheeks. “Will, they never fucking vote.”

“Only because nobody’s connecting with them! Now, we know they like Sharon from the response she gets on twitter. And what is the thing that most 18 to 25 year olds connect with the most?”

“…good policies on higher education?” Sharon tried hopefully.

“Memes!” Willam declared proudly. Sharon and Alaska stared at her as if she’d just grown another head.

“I’ve woken up on another plane of reality,” Sharon blinked blankly.

“Is it not kind of insulting to say that the only way Sharon can connect with younger voters is through memes?” Alaska tilted her head a little.

“Insulting to Sharon or insulting to- you know what, it doesn’t matter, the point is that the memes are politically relevant! I set you up a snapchat account and all you’ve got to do is post some funny, wholesome pictures or videos every now and again. The kids will love you, turn you into a massive meme queen, become more engaged and invested in you than they already are, hype you up no end on social media and increase your approval ratings!”

“Um. What the fuck is snapchat,” Sharon asked, her face blank. Sighing and shaking her head, Willam gestured for Sharon to give her her phone and downloaded the app as Alaska patiently explained how it worked to her girlfriend. Soon enough, Willam was signing into the account she’d made for her boss.

“Okay,” she said, handing it back to Sharon. “Now, do a video or something. Say you’re on your way to the party conference and are excited to hear everyone’s ideas and visions for the future, blah blah blah, political horseshit.”

Looking a little nervous, Sharon positioned the screen across from her face and gave a false smile as she held down the video button.

“Hi everyone, Sharon Needles here and I am on my way to Bournemouth for the party conference! I am so excited to get down and start hearing everyone’s amazing ideas for the year ahe- the video stopped.”

Exasperated, Willam rested her head in her hands. Alaska simply laughed affectionately.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it, sweetie,” she smiled, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “But in all seriousness, this isn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had, Wills. How much of it was really down to Courtney?”

Willam felt as if she’d suddenly choked on something. “Oh, um, I never had to contact her in the end. The idea sort of came to me.”

“Speaking of contacting people, did you get in touch with Bianca about that phone call?” Sharon asked, her voice suddenly grave. Willam had. Bianca had seemed a little rattled that whoever it was had managed to obtain a departmental phone number but was convinced it was nothing more than an empty threat, and Willam conveyed this to Sharon.

“She’s got someone at the Metropolitan working on it. Shouldn’t be too hard to trace the number once they phone the network provider,” she explained, her heart seizing up as she recognised the familiar new-build flats outside the window. “We should probably stop talking about this now that we’re at Courtney’s.”

“Why? Wasn’t she made aware?” Sharon asked, her voice turning a little stern.

Willam let out a sigh. “I didn’t tell her.”

“What? Why not?”

Because I’m scared to text her? Fire drill. “Because I don’t want this getting round the department more than it has to.”

Just as Sharon appeared satisfied with Willam’s answer, the car stopped right alongside Courtney, who was standing beside a huge suitcase, a smaller but very full backpack that was looped around its handles, and a Sainsbury’s bag that seemed to contain wellington boots. The small blonde beamed with joy, then rushed around the back to put everything into the boot.

“Jesus. What in fuck has she packed?” Alaska snorted an affectionate laugh as the boot slammed loudly from the back of the car and Courtney clambered into the seat beside Willam.

“Good morning, campers! Ah, I am so excited! This is going to be the best weekend,” she squealed happily, clapping her hands together in excitement.

“I hate to disappoint, Courtney, but I don’t know how exciting it’s going to be for you watching a bunch of speeches that are irrelevant to your line of work and watching me debate the assholes we share a party with.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not so bad. We’ve got the diversity disco tomorrow night,” Willam said dryly, her awe at the erratic planning of each conference growing more and more each year.

“Yeah, it’ll be surprisingly fun!” Courtney nodded enthusiastically. “Plus, all the other advisors are usually lovely! Trixie was saying last night that we needed to look out for one of her old friends from HR- Farrah, I’ve met her once or twice but had no idea she was a party member. Apparently she’s one of Sasha Velour’s girls and she’s sort of in at the deep end, so we need to look out for her.”

“Sasha Velour, ugh. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to work with her, she’s so pretentious. Like she could shoot explosive diarrhoea over the entire House of Commons and she’d still think she was the best person in the room,” Willam wrinkled her nose disdainfully. Sasha was one of the party’s many new arrivals after the expenses scandal those six months ago, and in that time Willam hadn’t been convinced by her at all. Her approval ratings seemed to be good, but any interview she did always seemed to make her come across as too hyper-intelligent for anyone else. Hell, she’d managed to out-smug Raja Gemini.

“I know Bianca got on at her for using too many long words in her interviews,” Alaska chipped in thoughtfully.

“I don’t know. From what I’ve seen in cabinet meetings she’s pretty quiet. Keeps herself to herself. She’s quite buddy with some of the other new ministers, but if all I’ve got to worry about this weekend is a party clique then I’m not worried. I survived high school, for Christ’s sake,” Sharon shrugged nonchalantly. “How long do we have in this car?”

Alaska checked her phone. “Two hours and twenty minutes.”

“I’m going to fucking kill myself.”

Courtney perked up. “Hey, I know what we can do to pass the time!”

Willam’s face grew scheming. “Oh shit, the game we used to play going up to MediaCity?”

“YES! Party political Guess Who,” Courtney replied, her face equally as mischievous. Turning to Sharon, she explained. “It’s like Guess Who, but with the members of the party.”

“Thanks, Courtney, I’m really glad you explained that to me,” Sharon deadpanned.  

“I’ll start then. I’m thinking of a cabinet minister,” Alaska smiled, giving nothing away.

“It’s Sharon,” Willam said instantly, earning her a weird look from Courtney.

“Fuck you, it’s not Sharon!” Alaska blurted out.

“Why would it be Sharon?” Courtney asked, her face still dumbfounded.

“She’s a fucking cabinet minister, isn’t she?” Willam stuttered, eager to cover up her misdemeanour. “Okay, is she a woman?”

“Yes.”

“What colour hair has she got?” Sharon asked, warming to the game.

“It’s yes or no questions only, you fucking amateur,” Willam joked. “Has she got brown hair?”

“Yep.”

“Well that narrows it down,” Courtney rolled her eyes. “Has she made a lot of media appearances in the last three months?”

Alaska narrowed her eyes in thought. “Not really.”

“Was she at last year’s party conference?”

Alaska snorted a laugh that very obviously gave something away. “Yes.”

“Did she make headlines for bringing a bunch of guys back to her hotel room she found on Tinder and riding each one of them like a pogo stick?” Willam cut in immediately.

“Yes!” Alaska blurted out excitedly.

“Is it our beloved Minister for International Trade, Miss Trinity Taylor?!” Courtney suddenly squealed, excitement getting the better of her. All four girls burst out laughing.

“Fuck you, Court, that was my answer!” Willam laughed, whacking her on the arm despite not knowing what possessed her to. Courtney simply batted her eyelashes at her.

“You snooze, you lose, babe!”

As the others kept laughing, Willam felt her heart freeze up. Did Courtney realise what she’d said? Inwardly, Willam shook her head. Of course she didn’t. It was just an offhand comment, something she obviously wouldn’t read into as much as Willam had and something that Willam was stupid for reading into anyway. Fire drill.

Two hours, twenty minutes and most of the cabinet members and MPs later, Sharon’s driver pulled up outside the Hilton they were to be staying at for the weekend. Courtney had been right; from the outside, at least, it did look good. Each floor was stacked high on top of the other, with chunky balconies outlining each one. It was very business-like but also classy, perfect for the weekend ahead. As Sharon’s driver opened the doors and a Hilton employee rushed to the boot to retrieve their luggage, the four made their way up the marble steps past a few hungover-looking smokers and into the hotel lobby, where Sharon took the lead in checking them all into their respective hotel rooms.

“On behalf of the Hilton, we’d like to wish you a very warm welcome and hope that you enjoy the conference,” the receptionist chirped, smiling as he slid four identical key cards over the countertop. “Your rooms are 505, 511, 512 and 513. We offer 24-hour room service although the front desk does close at midnight. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Sharon tilted her head. “Could I have a bottle of champagne sent up to room 512 at around six o’clock tonight please?”

The receptionist barely stopped himself from raising his eyebrows. “Absolutely, I can fix that for you right away Ms. Needles.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, turning away from the desk. Willam fixed her with a frown.

“A bottle of champagne? Are we in Empire?”

“What? It’s the party conference, let me live. ‘Party’ is right there in the phrase.”

“Right in front of ‘conference’,” Willam muttered under her breath. Scooping up the key cards from the reception desk, she shrugged. “Okay, Alaska, you take 511-”

Alaska gave her a grateful smile that thanked her without any words.

“- I’ll take 505 and Court can have-”

“Oh Christ, don’t put me anywhere near the number thirteen,” Courtney said, her voice a little panicked. Willam had forgot about Courtney’s large amount of superstitions. It was one of the things she found so endearing about her.

“Alright, Stevie Wonder,” Willam rolled her eyes to mask her affection, handing her the other key card. “Should we head up to the welcome address? We’ve still got half an hour but it’d be good to go and see who’s turned up.”

Nodding in agreement, Alaska dashed over to the porter who had stacked their suitcases high on a golden luggage trolley and told him which room they were all to go to. Once she’d ensured the safe arrival of their belongings, the four of them made their way to the lifts and travelled up several floors to a floor free of any hotel rooms; the doors opened to reveal a sort of holding area, with a slightly worn red carpet and cream wallpaper. That being said, Willam could hardly see most of her surroundings on account of the sheer volume of people currently in the room. Her observations were interrupted by a man in a smart suit who she vaguely recognised as one of the interns at Number Ten, handing her a sheet of paper.

“Welcome to the annual party conference!” he smiled, desperation to hopefully be picked up by an MP or a Minister so he could begin his ascent to the top of the political world seeping out of every pore. Willam cast a glance at the sheet, which appeared to be the agenda for the weekend.

“God, there’s entirely too much mingling going on in this room,” Sharon exhaled, her tone a little overwhelmed. “It’s like being in a snake pit.”

“Well look, there’s Latrice over there! She likes you, why don’t you go and chat to her?” Courtney pointed out the large, cheerful Communities and Local Government Minister, who was standing by the table of nibbles and laughing loudly with the girl serving behind it. Pulling a face and shrugging, Sharon straightened her posture and made her way over to Latrice, leaving Alaska, Courtney and Willam still hovering by the lifts. Willam watched as Alaska scanned the room, her eyes suddenly resting on someone and her face jolting in recognition. Faltering a little as she remembered the two girls beside her, Alaska began to slowly move towards who she’d seen.

“I’ve just spotted, um…someone I knew from uni. I’m just going to go catch up- you guys don’t mind, do you?”

Alaska barely gave either of them time to reply with a yes or no as she quickly disappeared into the crush of people. Curiosity piqued, Willam craned her neck in an attempt to see who Alaska had been so focused on, but it was impossible to see where Alaska had gone in the shifting crowd. Letting it drop, Willam became aware that only she and Courtney were left. Her palms began to sweat as she searched for something to say, but Courtney didn’t seem to feel as uncomfortable.

“Look, there’s Nina from Work and Pensions,” she kept her voice low as she subtly pointed to the new minister, who was standing on her own sipping from an orange juice and scanning the room. “Should we go say hi?”

Willam scoffed. “Nah. She won’t know who we are and to add to that, she’s isolated herself by choice. The rumour is that she smoked too much weed while she was at uni so she’s one of the most paranoid people you’ll ever meet. Fierce debater, though.”

Courtney’s eyes grew wide, a little shocked at the revelation. Calming herself and shrugging, she gave Willam a little smile. “Well, we can just keep each other company until the conference starts.”

Willam couldn’t control the way she beamed a smile back at her. Suddenly scrambling for conversation, Willam looked to the floor, a little nervous. “So, any big plans for tonight?”

Courtney bit her lip slightly. “I was thinking of heading to the SkyBar and trying to make some pals. I know there was some talk amongst the advisors for drinks after dinner. Sound good?”

Willam was only a little taken aback at Courtney’s invitation. Stammering a little, she pulled an apologetic face. “Sorry. I’m going to stay in and work on a little more analysis of this taxation policy that’s getting debated tomorrow. Try and conjure up a couple more figures for Sharon to throw in.”

Courtney momentarily looked as if she was injured. “Oh. Okay.”

Willam all but flinched, wondering what she’d done to result in Courtney’s drop in spirits. She was a breath away from trying to save the situation- perhaps saying she’d come for one single drink if only to see that smile reappear on Courtney’s face again- when she was stopped by a cry from within the crowd.

“Courtney?” came a soft, high voice, the words followed by a tiny blonde girl who looked entirely too young to be in politics. She wore a baby pink pencil skirt and suit jacket which were perfectly tailored, and her blonde hair hung in delicate waves framing her face. As she turned her head very slightly, the light hit her cheekbones in an almost blinding fashion, indicating that if politics didn’t work out she could always go into makeup artistry. If Willam hadn’t seen her before, Courtney certainly seemed as if she knew her.

“Farrah! It’s so good to see you, I had no idea you were working for the party until Trixie mentioned it!” she beamed, happiness restored as she gave the girl a quick hug.

“Yeah, well, Sasha scouted me after someone obviously noticed my performance in admin over at human resources. But oh God, Courtney, there’s so much! I feel like I’m constantly behind and everyone is so much more advanced. I mean Naysha- you know Cynthia’s Naysha over at International Development?- rumour is she’s getting considered for an advisory job at number ten,” Farrah reeled off, anxiety riddling her tone. Willam’s ears perked up at the mention of the number ten job, her detached interest which she’d held previously suddenly increasing. Farrah seemed not to realise the impact of her words and was still carrying on. “Meanwhile I’m still over here not really sure how to use the photocopier! Oh, I’m so sorry, I don’t think we’ve met?”

With that, Farrah turned to Willam and warmly stuck a hand out for her to shake. Hesitantly, Willam gave a tight smile and took Farrah’s hand. “I’m Willam. I work with Court, I’m Sharon Needles’ political advisor.”

Farrah’s face sort of sank, the smile that had previously been plastered to it melting away. “Oh God. I should have registered. It’s Dosac you guys work for, right?”

Starting to feel a little like she had the power to ruin everyone’s mood, Willam nodded, her brow furrowed. Farrah pulled a sort of pained expression.

“What is it, Farrah?” Courtney asked, concern written all over her face.

“God. I mean I shouldn’t care, right? It’s just politics after all, I mean that’s what happens, isn’t it? But oh God, you’re both going to have to deal with the fallout and I just can’t help but feel partly responsible because I helped her write it…I mean I proof-read it, but that’s still some responsibility, right?” the small blonde stammered, her face only growing more and more fretful.

“Farrah. Talk to me,” Courtney asked, a frown deep set on her face.

“Jesus, are you crying?” Willam tilted her head, awe momentarily taking the place of concern.

Sniffling a little, Farrah took a deep breath. “Sasha’s speech later today. It’s about politics and the media. Sharon doesn’t really come off well in it.”

Willam gave a deep sigh, bringing both hands up behind her head. This was all she needed to add to her already sky-high stress levels. “What exactly does she say?”

As soon as Farrah opened her mouth, she immediately shut it again as her gaze focussed on someone just over Willam’s shoulder. As Willam turned to acknowledge whoever it was, she came near face-to-face with two girls at the same time. Appearance-wise, they couldn’t have contrasted more; the one on the left had flawless dark skin, with colourful makeup that contrasted her pure white shift dress. Her dreadlocks hung over her shoulders and down her back, the little gold embellishments hanging from the odd dread giving Willam the impression of a sort of Christmas tree. The girl on the right, however, immediately raised Willam’s hackles despite her unthreatening appearance- a huge, candyfloss mane of white-blonde hair sat on her shoulders and only accentuated her pale face, which was painted with just a simple red lip and two huge wings of eyeliner. She wore a plain teal suit dress, which was impeccably ironed and crease-free. Willam looked down at her own slightly crumpled white shirt and black pencil skirt self-consciously. The two girls were recognisable as Shea Coulee and Sasha Velour respectively. Like Sharon, they’d both been new starts all those months ago after the expenses scandal- Shea taking up the post as Minister of Defence and Sasha filling the vacancy for Minister of Justice. They had both been strong presences in parliament, managing to gain considerable traction on policies they’d dreamed up, and their approval ratings were good amongst the public. However, Willam had heard small snippets of rumours that flew around the party indicating that Shea and Sasha were more than simply colleagues. If anything was going on between them, however, they didn’t show it as they stood beside each other, their posture and expressions statuesque.

“Farrah! There you are, we were wondering where you’d managed to get to,” Sasha smiled pleasantly, her voice deep and placid.

“I was just talking to Willam and Courtney. Sharon’s girls,” Farrah stuttered, hasty to conceal that she’d revealed anything to them both just moments ago. Sasha raised a single eyebrow in interest, turning to Shea and sharing a look that seemed to be a mixture of amusement and something else Willam couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Sorry, is there a problem?” Willam couldn’t help but challenge. Sasha, for her part, looked taken aback at Willam’s forthright manner. Her smile was still calm and her tone was even as she spoke.

“Not at all! If anything I think it’s sweet that Sharon still has advisors after her performance so far in her position,” Sasha said, her level tone hiding the bite to her words. Courtney narrowed her eyes.

“She has three advisors, actually, so she’s not exactly short of allies.”

“Tell that to our party, girl,” Shea laughed, throwing her head back. “Three advisors and she still manages to fuck up. That’s kinda bad.”

“I wouldn’t call getting approval from a number of European leaders fucking up,” Willam said, trying her best to keep her tone calm but her flared nostrils potentially giving her away.

“And there was me thinking Sharon’s approval ratings had plummeted. But maybe I have my numbers wrong,” Sasha said lightly, Willam wondering how she managed to make a shrug sarcastically apologetic. “Anyway, they’re letting people in to the welcome address now so I was thinking of getting going, Farrah? But it was lovely to meet you both. If you’d ever like to come spend a day or two over in Justice, you’d be more than welcome!”

Shea gave Sasha an amused smirk. “What she really means is, if you find yourself wanting to work for a department that’s actually going places, her door’s always open.”

Willam’s face scrunched up in distaste as Sasha gave a disapproving look and batted Shea lightly on the arm. “Your mouth is going to get you in mad amounts of trouble one day, I swear.”

As they moved away, Farrah’s apologetic goodbye and a promise to see them both later muffled what Shea replied, but Willam could have sworn it was something about Sasha having never had any complaints about her mouth before. Her eyes were still narrowed and trained on Sasha like a sniper as she spoke.

“I knew there was a reason that stuck-up bitch didn’t sit well with me. What’s the damage control plan?”

Courtney furrowed her brow. “There’s not much we can do except make Sharon aware. We can’t control what Sasha’s going to say, unless we can find something on her?”

Willam raised both eyebrows. “I don’t know if we can get any solid evidence that her and Shea are fucking but surely their interactions are evidence enough.”

Courtney went to speak then stopped, her words getting caught in her throat. To Willam’s curiosity, her expression became briefly antagonised as she paused, then opened her mouth again. “How come you can see what’s going on with them clear as day but you don’t see…”

She sort of trailed off, expression becoming even more pained as something stopped her speech in her tracks. Confused, Willam prompted her. “Don’t see what?”

Courtney sighed and simply shook her head. Before Willam could press her about it any more, they found themselves both being shoved forward a little in the crowd as everyone began to make their way into the conference hall. The flow of the human tide brought Sharon back to them as they shuffled forward towards the doorway like cattle.

“Okay. Issue. Latrice told me there’s a rumour that Sasha’s speech is basically just her dragging me for a considerable amount of time,” Sharon said quietly, her face not giving away her obvious nerves.

“Yeah. We heard it from Farrah, so I don’t think there’s any element of fiction to it,” Courtney grimaced, hating to be the bearer of bad news. Sharon let out a huge breath.

“Fuck. So I’ve got death threats, falling approval ratings, and now my own party hates me.”

“DEATH THREATS?” Courtney all but shouted, causing a few heads to turn her way. Willam cringed, trying her best to shush her and turning to Sharon.

“Thanks, Sharon.”

“She’s an advisor, she deserves to know!”

“Deserves to know what? Did you keep something from me?” Courtney turned to Willam, suddenly accusatory. Willam found herself hoping she was somehow standing above a trapdoor that would miraculously open and lower her into the void.

“Look, I’ll tell you later,” Willam insisted, desperate to placate her. “For now, let’s just hear what the Chancellor of the Exchequer is going to drone on at us about through his fucking nasal passages for the next half hour.”

Willam didn’t miss the way Courtney’s shoulders slumped, her body language completely defeated. She felt a stab of guilt at her heart, wondering if she should regret not telling Courtney. On one hand, she truly did believe that keeping the death threat between the three of them was the best way to handle it. However, something in her gut made her question if part of her had just really wanted to keep her distance from Courtney. Fire drill? I don’t even know anymore.

Willam’s thoughts were interrupted as the three of them were joined by Alaska just as they crossed the boundary of the conference hall and took their seats relatively near the back of the room. Sitting on her chair with a thud, Alaska leaned into Sharon’s ear and whispered something. Sharon’s face became outraged.

“What the fuck, why did everybody else find out about the bloody content of this speech before I did?”

Willam leaned forward to face Alaska. “Who the hell did you find out from?!”

“My friend from high school told me. He-”

Willam cut her off, suddenly confused. “I thought you said it was a friend from uni?”

Alaska paused for a second and blinked, seemingly realising she’d slipped up. “Did I? I meant high school. Anyway, he told me. Everybody seems to have heard, so maybe we need to think of a strategy to deal with the fallout?”

Sharon nodded, her expression determined. She seemed eager to get back on top, and Willam felt a sudden fire and drive to help her get one up on the other members of the party.

For now, though, they had to sit through an old, rich white man loving the sound of his own voice for a considerable length of time. Willam concluded it was just like any other day in parliament.

***

Trying their best to keep their heels quiet against the wooden floor, the four girls snuck into the very back of the hall and sat down gently on four available wooden seats. Willam craned her neck to the very front of the room, where she could see a single long table where the chair sat with Sasha. She seemed at ease and completely nonplussed by the situation, sorting her index cards out calmly while her face gave nothing away. Fishing the weekend’s agenda from her bag, Willam studied the description again.

16.00- 16.30 – Hall 2 – Minister for Justice

Secretary of State Sasha Velour discusses the public’s view of politicians in the media, taking different landmark events from the political calendar and offering her own analysis as to how they in turn affected the approval ratings of the party.

Sighing and shaking her head, Willam could only hope Sharon didn’t get brought up as many times as people seemed to be implying. All day she’d been an absolute jittery, rage-filled nightmare; every speech the four of them had sat in had featured impatient foot-tapping indicating that Sharon’s attention was miles away. She hadn’t touched any food at lunchtime either. Willam just had to thank God that she didn’t have any debates to take part in until tomorrow, as she’d probably just open her mouth and start spewing particles of her own brain. Looking at Sharon now, Willam could see that she was just staring steadfastly straight ahead, her eyes trained on the other young minister. Willam watched Alaska look nervously at her girlfriend, then as she lifted a single hand and made to hold it in Sharon’s. Locking eyes with her, Willam gave Alaska a warning look and, sighing, the other advisor backed down. Willam felt bad, but it was for their own good- the hall was filled with people, and a gesture like that would have been far, far too obvious.

The small murmur in the room quietened to a complete silence as the chair took to the podium and introduced Sasha, Willam’s gaze immediately snapping over to Shea who was sitting on the other side of the room and whose deafening claps soared over the polite applause of the rest of the crowd.

Taking a confident stance at the podium, Sasha smiled pleasantly at the chair.

“First of all I’d like to start by thanking the chairman for such a warm introduction, and by thanking all of you for coming along. I promise I won’t keep you all for long, as I know we have a big night ahead of us!”

WIllam grimaced as the crowd gave a polite chuckle. “Fucking get on with it, then.”

Pausing as she shuffled her index cards, Sasha looked down at the podium, then looked back up at the crowd. “Politics and the media. It’s a relationship that, it could be argued, is incredibly symbiotic. Without politics, would the media have any reason to exist? Without the media, politics, yes, would still exist, but would it be the democratic institution it has come to be today? The media has become one of the most important vehicles through which politics is conveyed, and for one simple reason; public engagement. The media is vastly accessible to the majority of the population through newspapers, television, radio, and more recently, social media.”

“We know what fucking media entails,” Willam hissed under her breath, perhaps a little too loudly as an elderly MP turned around from the row in front and gave her a disapproving look.

“Why is this accessibility so important? Well, it only increases the scrutiny that politicians- us- are put under by the very people that have voted us into our position. The electorate put their trust in us and, through the media, they are given a chance to check up on the people they used their vote on. It’s only reasonable that they expect us to be responsible, respectable members of parliament, after all, we are representing them. We reflect our electorate, and in turn, our electorate reflects us.”

Willam leaned slightly to her left and whispered to Sharon. “She can’t be mentioning you. She’s been rabbiting on for five minutes and all she’s done is use stupid, meaningless phrases.”

Sharon frowned and made to shush her as Sasha carried on.

“Take, for example, the opposition’s leadership contest. Phi Phi O’Hara’s behaviour towards her competitor, Manila Luzon, showed a level of childishness, churlishness, and just downright sexism. How is this reflected in her electorate? Well, we know both Piers Morgan and Katie Hopkins endorsed her campaign…so I shouldn’t need to say too much more to illustrate my point!”

This time, a bubble of genuine laughter burst in the hall, Willam’s expression stony in the face of it all. She didn’t have to turn to look at Sharon to know that her face was the exact same, the tension radiating from her like heat from an oven.

“Now we can laugh at situations like these- except when they’re occurring in our own party. As members, MPs and Ministers, we should constantly be aiming to do our electorate proud. We must always remember that whatever we are doing, it reflects on the whole party. And this is why in every situation we are in, we must remember that our actions have wider consequences than simply ourselves,” Sasha stopped, moved one index card in front of the other and carried on, her tone now one of pride instead of neutrality. “For example, our minister for defence, Shea Coulee. Within her first month of appointment, as I’m sure you’ll all know, Ms. Coulee flew out to Syria to witness the effects that drone strikes from our country had had on innocent communities. Within a month of her arrival back in the UK, her department had drawn up a piece of legislation that should have ensured tighter control and accuracy of drone strikes. We know now that the legislation was blocked by opposing parties- disappointing, yes, but what couldn’t have been predicted was the overwhelming public support as a result. Defence had previously been a department that many wished didn’t exist- an area of the government which was cold and lacked humanity. Ms. Coulee, through media appearances and connection with the public through platforms such as hustings, surgeries and even on Twitter, has managed to bring humanity, dignity and warmth to a position that many were too afraid to fill.”

Willam looked over once again at Shea, whose face was lit up in gratitude at the glowing praise. Just as she was about to roll her eyes, Willam was jolted back into attention by Sasha’s next sentence.

“Dignity is one of the most important qualities to possess in our area of work, and that’s why I was saddened when I watched the events of Sharon Needles’ Daily Mail interview and its aftermath.”

Willam instantly felt every single muscle in her body tense up, the blood coursing through her veins. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Sharon, who had sucked in a tremendous amount of air at once through her nostrils. A few heads turned around in their seats to crane their necks in the direction of Sharon and her advisors. Unable to move in her seat, Willam could only listen to the rest of the speech.

“True, she opened the door to a conversation that really needed to be had- the staggering amount of sexism politicians face from the media every day is vast…however, that’s a speech for another day!” the audience laughed again and Willam had to fight the urge not to pick up her chair and start smashing their moronic heads in. “But the thing that I felt really undermined her point was the way she conveyed her anger. She could have stayed and debated Shangela Wadely. She could have de-railed the interview into a really productive discussion. But instead, she stormed out. She voided the chance of gaining something really positive out of a bad interview. Through sheer luck, Chad Michaels had wanted to highlight the same thing but the party has to wonder- what would have happened if Ms. Michaels had not invited Ms. Needles onto the news? The integrity and public view of the party was thrown into disarray. Would we all be free to walk out of any interview we choose, to refuse to answer questions simply because we didn’t like them? Are we all free to speak how we like on media appearances, to swear as Ms. Needles did on Radio Five Live? As politicians we are always eager to relate to the public, but should our endeavours to be relatable go as far as being brash or being crude?”

“This bitch seems to talk entirely in rhetorical questions,” Willam hissed to nobody in particular, her resentment growing with each line of Sasha’s speech. The Justice minister carried on.

“We know that Ms. Needles’ endeavours have clearly failed, hence the fall in approval ratings next to Phi Phi O’Hara. But is this solely due to the attempt to be relatable? It is likely that it has more to do with the leaking of the Prime Minister’s legacy, which we now know came from her department. Months of work from advisors at number 10 gone completely down the drain, and it should serve as a reminder to us all to tighten the security and our protocol within our departments, to ensure that the lines between civil servants and political workers are made abundantly clear. With this error of judgement-”      

“Fuck this. I’m not staying to have my character assassinated any longer,” Sharon suddenly hissed through gritted teeth, all at once snatching her bag up from the floor and walking out of the row she sat in, not even caring about the looks she drew from at least the three rows of chairs in front. Panicked, Willam looked across at Courtney, whose gaze was fixed on Alaska who was following her girlfriend out of the room as if attached by a string. Making her own decision, Willam jumped up from her chair and made her way to the exit, hearing Courtney’s heels scraping across the wooden floor approximately a second afterwards. Bursting through the double doors, she was grateful to see that Alaska had restrained herself, and was standing not too close to a deflated Sharon who was slumped against the wall. Willam opened her mouth to speak, but Sharon got there first.

“Courtney, could you please phone Jinkx and tell her we need all hands on deck to firefight this. Pre-warn her. Phone Bianca as well and see what the line is. Alaska, could you nip down to reception and ask if they can bump our-” Sharon suddenly coughed very violently in an attempt to cover the mistake Willam had already heard. “- my champagne order forward to five o’clock? I feel as if I need it and about twenty Valium.”

Obediently, Courtney retrieved her phone from her bag and crossed to a quieter end of the corridor to make the phone call. With the other advisor gone, Alaska risked a squeeze of Sharon’s hand and a quick kiss on her cheek before she dashed across into the lift. With just Willam and Sharon left, Sharon tore her hands through her long, ice-grey hair and gave a heart-wrenching sigh. Willam felt for her.

“Hey. It’ll be okay, you know,” Willam braved a small smile which she hoped looked reassuring. “Tomorrow is a new day and you just have to go out there and do what you do best. Lacerate that cotton-wool haired bitch in the debate and then kill your speech. It’s a bump, but you can redeem yourself in less than 24 hours.”

Sharon gave Willam a sort of helpless look, her blue eyes seeming more like pools than their usual ice. “It’s not that I’m worried about. I know I’m good, I know I’ll be fine tomorrow. I just…have I really been as bad as Sasha said? Have I really been that shit for the party?”

Willam’s face instantly contorted in disbelief. “Oh, God, no! Sharon, you’ve been the best thing that’s happened to this party since you arrived. Bitch just needed someone to attack and she’s jealous you’ve had more media appearances than any other minister so she spun everything you’ve done into something bad.”

“I just feel like I’ve let everybody down,” Sharon’s voice was flat, and Willam had to fight the weird urge she had to hug her.

“Listen. Bianca Del Rio scouted you out because she saw something special in you. And when you came to Dosac, everyone else saw it too. Well, Alaska more than most, but anyway,” Willam threw in a joke in an attempt to cheer the minister up and earned herself a small quirk of a smile at the mention of her girlfriend’s name. “And the public saw it more than anyone. Okay, your approval ratings dropped, but whose don’t? It’s just a case of finding your feet again, and you can do that. We all believe in you, Sharon. You’ve not let anyone down.”

Her smile small but still present, Sharon pushed herself off of her leaning position on the wall and stood with a little more poise. “You know, it seems strange, but for someone who started off as my harshest critic I can really always count on you to cheer me up.”

Willam bristled a bit. “Yeah, well. Shit evolves. We all came from fish once.”

Sharon snorted a laugh, then composed herself. “Well, I’m grateful for you anyway.”

Allowing herself a smile, Willam looked over at the corner of the room from where Courtney was making her way back to the two girls.

“Okay, so Jinkx is already on it- calls are coming in already, apparently- but the line Bianca gave them is that this does not affect the validity or credibility of your stance or policies in any way, and the party is not split,” she addressed Sharon, then pulled a face as her tone became concerned. “Bianca is livid at Sasha. She said something about her being so intent on dividing the party into pieces that she’s going to cut up her dead body into similar pieces before she dissolves it in acid to make the murder look like an accident.”

Raising her eyebrows, Willam gave a shrug. “Yeah, that definitely sounds like Bianca to me.”

“Well, ladies, it’s only quarter past four,” Sharon said, the confidence back in her voice. “And we’ve suddenly got a bit of free time on our hands. I suggest we drink until we can only see in greyscale.”

Courtney’s face lit up before Willam made the same feeble excuse she’d given to Courtney before. Really the truth was that the less time she spent around the other advisor the better, the entire day already seeming like some slow, painful water torture with every second she was around Courtney’s perfume, smile or bright eyes.

Excuses and goodbyes made for the evening, Willam found herself in the hotel lift being elevated towards a night of room service, a cold shower, and shitty TV game shows.

It really was the glamour that she loved the most about her job.

***

Willam lay completely awake, her eyes burning as they bore into the darkness that hung above her head. Casting her eye to the only light source in the room, she gave a loud sigh when she saw that the numbers on the digital clock- the only light source in the room- read that it was one in the morning. Exasperated, Willam turned over in the huge double bed the hotel had provided her. There was nothing wrong with it whatsoever; the sheets were soft and the mattress was comfy, but Willam had been kept awake for a couple of reasons. One of which had been the loud moaning and banging of the headboard that had started up just as Willam had originally decided to head to bed, all interspersed with cries of Sharon’s name that made Willam want to just die. Around five minutes into the ordeal, Willam decided that she’d had enough, turned over to face her bedside table and reached for the hotel phone. Punching in the room number of the source of the banging, she sighed with relief when things in the next room fell silent and a clearly irritated Alaska picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Oh I’m sorry, I thought this was the room of Minister for Social Affairs and Citizenship Sharon Needles?” Willam sing-songed down the phone, delighting when she heard Alaska’s voice catch in her throat on the other end of the line. “Don’t shit yourself, bitch. It’s me. But be more fucking subtle. Or fuck more subtly. I’m scarred for life here, I’ve got fucking PTSD. Post traumatic…scissoring disorder.”

Willam could practically hear Alaska rolling her eyes. “You’re a first class cunt, you know that?”

“Night night, sleep tight, hope your sex was shite,” Willam deadpanned, before crashing the phone against the receiver and turning over once more in bed.

That had been the only distraction of the evening that Willam could physically prevent or even interrupt. But for the rest of her attempts at sleep she’d been tortured by her own thoughts. Primarily (or at least that’s what she tell herself) thoughts of Sasha’s speech ran riot in her mind, Willam feeling more and more irritated with each passing minute at the Justice Minister’s audacity to attack Sharon as she had done. The fact that Sharon had had to follow Darienne meant that anything would have been an improvement, a fucking mammal with a head, but Sharon had really taken a failing department and launched it into the stratosphere. She couldn’t understand where Sasha’s remarks had come from, and Willam was convinced that Sharon had been doing a formidable job. She’d been fruitlessly grasping at ways Sharon could get back at her the next day, interspersed with stabs of guilt at the thought of resorting to childish point-scoring. Still, if they weren’t fighting fair then Willam was prepared to be as petty as was allowed.

Every so often these thoughts of irritation would be balanced by stomach-churning thoughts that made Willam’s heart feel constricted and panicky. Today was possibly the most time she’d spent in Courtney’s vicinity for quite a long time. It was easy to avoid her at work because she could just escape to her desk and sit and become engrossed in her own jobs. But today had been exhausting, and every single thing Courtney did managed to make Willam’s heart ache all the more. Why the fuck could she not just get over the stupidity of her feelings? She’d been distancing herself from Courtney for about a month and a half now, but the desired effect- that she’d be over her by now- just wasn’t happening. There was a particularly scary thought that barged into Willam’s brain at around midnight, which appeared in a sort of scary whisper.

If I can’t get over my feelings for her, I just need to tell her about them.

Willam had physically grit her teeth, helplessly pulling her pillow over her ears in an attempt to keep the thoughts away to no avail. How could she even have thought a thing like that? How would that be successful in any way? There was no way Courtney would react well to such a thing, let alone return her feelings. But memories stabbed at her mind, little small things that Courtney probably didn’t think twice about but things that Willam clung to like a comfort blanket. The biggest one was their kiss at Christmastime, but there were other occurrences too- meaningful looks, awkward blushes, cryptic sentences which had been started and then dropped.

Stop this.

Closing her eyes again, Willam attempted to clear her head. One of the very few helpful things her mum taught her when she was little was to count to the highest number she could think of until she got to sleep, so for possibly the millionth time that evening Willam began to go through the number line obediently like a small child.

She’d got to possibly 103 when there was a whisper of a knock at her door, so small that Willam couldn’t be sure she’d heard it until it came again, a little louder but still incredibly hesitant. This was no member of staff. Dread collecting in the pit of her stomach, Willam slid out of bed, padded over to the door then peered through the peephole.

Who she saw on the other side made her truly believe that God absolutely hated her with a passion.

Sighing heavily, Willam opened the door to reveal the one person she didn’t want to see on the other side. Courtney’s stance was apologetic and she didn’t meet Willam’s eyes.

“Hey. You okay?” Willam asked, admitting to herself that there had to be a good reason she was knocking her door at 1am.

“I was up at the bar with Farrah and lost track of time,” she  began, her voice soft. “It was only when I got to my room that I realised I must have dropped my key card somewhere…I knocked on Alaska’s door, but she must be asleep. Reception’s closed…I wouldn’t ask, but…”

Trying her best not to show her visible dread, Willam simply stood aside and held the door wider open, allowing Courtney to enter. She thought briefly about switching the bedside light on or offering her a comfier alternative to sleep in than her current velvet leggings and off-shoulder yellow top, but she didn’t want to run any risk of her kindness being misconstrued as anything more. Settling down under her sheets and feeling Courtney slip under the duvet beside her, it was miles away from their last time sharing a bed. Willam had never felt more tense, terrified of brushing against the other advisor.

“Thanks, Will,” Courtney’s soft voice drifted into the darkness and felt like a stab to Willam’s gut. “You’re a good friend.”

“It’s alright.”

Exhausted, Willam returned to staring into the darkness, resigning herself to the fact that if she wasn’t getting any sleep before then she certainly wouldn’t be getting any now that Courtney was sharing her bed. Her heart ached, hating the fact that she had allowed the other girl to affect her feelings this much and wishing she could return to the old friendship they shared. Anything was better than this.

After an ambiguous amount of time- it could have been hours or minutes- Courtney spoke again.

“Willam?”

The almost-question hung heavy in the air, Willam’s breath completely stopping at the weight her name suddenly held. She couldn’t bring herself to speak.

Courtney, obviously believing the other girl was asleep, gave a little sigh. “Never mind.”

The previously cosy bed suddenly ice cold, Willam felt goosebumps prickle at her skin. They were centimetres from each other but Courtney had never felt so far away, and Willam’s thoughts from earlier hung like a weight in her mind.

#ortega #just the game we're in #witney #shalaska #sashea #au #group fic #willam bellli #courtney act #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #sasha velour #she coulee #farrah moan #tw death threat #rpdr fanfiction #jtgwi