<|endoftext|> "We wanted you two to be open about this, because you're both still very much in love with each other and we want you both to know that. Neither of us have lied to either of you about this, although we both believe it's one of the strongest explanations for your current relationship because, why would you only choose one person instead of more?" They only reluctantly confirmed the truth of the statement. "Well, I mean, I don't want you or him to be full-on, like, as boyfriends and all of that, because we've already kind of worked through that a bit, and we wouldn't want it to take up too much of what's left of your time between the two of you, but, uh, yeah, I think the best way would be to do it in-between meetings of course, or whenever that is. You need the space to breathe and keep your heart intact. And I'd obviously be there for you, just so you know I won't give you any bullshit and will be happy with you, no matter what, if you say no." "Like what I said?" "Yeah, you said that right," he nodded his head in the air. "We can get the details arranged later, because right now we're just trying to do something that seems right to us and you'd know better than anyone how much that means." It was Jared's turn to rub the back of his head, but he still sounded a little lost. "Uh, I guess we just thought maybe you could help us out of some past grudges, 'cause like, we haven't gotten off the ground without a little pressure so, um, I've had it from both sides for ages and I just wanted to… c'mere, you think?" He grinned at them and tried to stand up, but Star shot her hands up to block him, grinning, as well. "Oh, come on," she chuckled, her fingers wrapping around his, to pull him down towards her, making a move to unbutton the button that held his shirt all the way down. The hesitation was deafening when Star leaned up onto her elbows and caught his chin so she could kiss him, leaving her lips on his, even in case there was some room left. When it felt like all the pressure was gone, they separated after kissing briefly, feeling a bit awkward for them to do so. "You make me laugh," Jared murmured against his lips, a small smirk on his face as Star rolled her eyes, feeling a bit let down that he wasn't smiling back. Star snickered. "I always do, but really, you, and I had some similar breakups before, not exactly friendly, but we had to put aside our hurt feelings, I suppose." Jared rolled his eyes, visibly upset, but didn't try to stop Star or anything. "I really don't understand how this is workin' out." Star merely raised an eyebrow, obviously still amused. "I guess we never really figured that part out, did we?" They both shook their heads, lightly shaking their heads when it seemed to try them to get distracted by something they were dealing with, like Star's blissfully open smile or Jared feeling the occasional knots still lingering in his throat from the previous day, but otherwise mostly ignored. "I mean… I think… I know we've been dating, like, almostUsing high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context The first ship off. The ship Ronan watches closes up with a lightening flash as it cuts through the air and finds its target. It's moving faster than her, or almost the speed of sound. It doesn't show any sign that she is aware, just drifts lazily above the planet. She's only just coming back to him, but Ronan can already see the chasm between them. She's playing an intricate game. At least she doesn't know he's gone down there because he left his communicator on when he came in. Too soon for the intelligence of hers to pick up, not until they've used up every distraction. Suddenly everything lights up. A pair of fighters races over to them, slow and clumsy like they're running on slurry. The fighters start spitting out blaster fire. Ronan can feel what it's like to be afraid. Someone is hurt and now they're after them. They all look a little ridiculous, a little scared, but there are women, a bunch of them, a lot of them and they're all fighting against a giant glowing spaceship. There's a massive Star Destroyer coming at them from above and they need to get away. Ronan hears her curse, understands that, but he can't escape. Ronan pulls in an emergency burst of radia, and too late, she jams her bay doors on him. He swings away, turns down the incline, arms around himself, and looks over to watch their pursuers shoot at the other fighters and then at him, but he gets crushed between the craft he'd tried to open the gravity well doors to, without even knowing she was there, and the one separating him from the best missile launchers he had. He screams and thrashes and clawed his way across the airfield, lungs empty and blood being slashed into his throat like a sword blade, spinning the monstrous ship about. Then the giant door opens with a sickening scraping noise, and another craft crashes in behind him and sideswipes him with a slavering look. Ronan spins and runs, leaving the big ship behind him. Light goes dim and it feels like the planet is closing in around him, his escape routes swallowed by the earth. But he's wide open, and the approaching Star Destroyer has three of his men with nothing better to do than eat him alive. This can't be happening. He remembers Saren's words. "Slow and methodical, movements are entirely your own responsibility." He'll end this with his bare hands if necessary. No, wait. He can't have that. He pulls his rejec but doesn't have a weapon. And he's not sure how many bullets he can take before he gives up. So he can't. He'll try to save her. Her life is the only thing left in his grasp. This is why they make a good team, by the way. Everyone thinks as they join their circle that it's just your basic buddy movie, but they usually end up having what you would call an argument as to who is 'the stronger man' of the two, so *against everything that's ever happened* those arguments tend to take place in elevators and people are usually pretty in the middle of an elevator with their eyes clenched and bodies tight. Ronan doesn't move, just watches the three men come to life behind him. Saren yells at them all for giving him away and dashes away without saying goodbye. Ronan just stares at them, unable to help but stare at him as he leaves. He wants to ask his mom if she knows but she doesn't know either. How does she feel about Ronan? Would he tell her? Fuck no. What if she knew? She wouldn't listen to anyone. But Ronan will still tell her. She could save them. There might not be many left with the madder bits and pieces, but Ronan still needs a plan and there was so much he'd missed, so much that could be taken from him now. Ronan is going to stop them. Because Ronan will always stop them. /chapter content The Avoided* ------------ Chapter Summary > Part II: They say he'll probably be able to stop the droids. > > Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes8) chapter content "…but I just…" His voice cracks slightly, causes his eyes to water as he runs the last fifty meters of his way out of their hiding place. His wings fold up, his spine and wrists joining him. He can hear Saren still shouting, taunting the fighters that have been chasing after them. "That bastard killed my sister." He hits his wings with his fist. He has found another mission to accomplish now. As his fist sparks he sees Saren's steps, he marks them down in his mind and in fact, they're going to see a lot of Saren's now. Just as time did when he first met him. Ronan feels his instinct kick into gear and so he follows, heading off towards his chance. His instincts will kick his ass into action, they're big jerks, aren't they. But this fight could be a great one. This battle might save his friends. Even if it wasn't for him, or R&D like it is now, Saren and his wayward mercenaries could really turn the tide and help the Rebel Alliance hold out long enough to move on Xizor's lair, put together this new kind of weapon, and get rid of Saren and his ilk once and for all. There's also his mother, whose thoughts are so different now, a new part of him than anything else that's come out of the Force in a long time. So many emotions now are blank spots when compared to the emotions of his past or even the dead, she's in danger, there's been a change. The anger his mother felt in his brother's death and the pain that had overtaken her could have been explained away by Imperial superstitions and a safety that didn't exist. At least, that's what she seems to think. Still, some things aren't going away, it would seem. "Too late, babe," says Saren to someone out of screen's line of sight. "This end will be one of thousands, didn't you say?" "Shut the fuck up, Kolyat." The guy glares at Ronan and moves out of view of the safety of his gun. "Serenity knows when to shut its mouth, where's the party without us? I'll use you." Ronan's wing beats against the hard ground and he falls, crashing to his knees and rolling across them a few times. In fact, it doesn't seem like that hard. And it's not like a fight with him would be a little scary. That had been true for most of the team, before a certain shipbuilder had gunned them down before he could get a proper plan together. When the new pilots arrive, the map had made them fear the consequences of their actions would be considered unethical and immoral. It hadn't helped that they saw little difference in the punishments for the men who attacked Ronan, for Vandal Savage and for Solana Thanoth. But none of those were full fledged pirates, just people who didn't want a naysayer around. They took down people, they gave information. They weren't directly responsible for Saren's disappearance. Those would be the rules of today. The pilots land, sure that they might get their asses handed to them by the pirates, but so far it looks like they're getting what they've earned. For now. "…as you know," Saren's head rests on Ronan's back and he is breathing heavily, even though it isn't very windy outside. It could still be late afternoon. "…we're trying to organize this and uh…that means we can't gather inform…ah…" "We don't need to bother you with your wisdom." That has Ronan's wings jumping and he finds himself smirking as his voice drops from loud to guttural. Saren looks over his shoulder and watches Ronan. "I don't mind disagreeing with the management team, Ronan." "Not even being an ass when they are discussing the risks and possible loss of manpower due to our action? I'm glad you're planning to assist." Saren shrugs and settles for a firm, precise gaze aimed at Ronan. "But we shouldn't have any trouble breaking the pirates in their base and pulling it down." "Agreed." The pilots pull their claw on each other and we move forward again. An hour and a half later, those pirates are in their base. Their base had once been occupied by their former agent Lleo Tann, while the raiders had recently captured Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan. The new inhabitants of the base are not of a pirate persuasion. They are Stormtroopers, more of the variety of guys you'd see with their helmets on rather than jackboots and their original makeup was destroyed. Still, they're nothing to laugh about, or at the very least, their intentions are a little more subtle than the others. So yeah. Which leaves plenty of leeway in terms of numbers, for the greater good. Still, that does not stop the attack and the death. By then, both Hilde Wender, as well as the officers of the base have been gathered. They enter the corridor lined with doors, trusting their monitors to navigate safely.Using high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context Yusef stands up from the floor, where he is splayed out on his feet and wrapped in his blankets. He turns away from the windows of the watchtower and glances up at Matsuoka's visor. "We have to get you into bed!" she cries excitedly. "How are we supposed to do that?" he spits out, narrowing his eyes at her as he steps forward. "Wake me up if anything happens," Yusef replies calmly. The only reason she isn't asleep already is because he's giving her a fair warning this time. "Alright," he says firmly. He waits a few seconds, then asks the question he's been waiting for. "Tell me who I'm supposed to be protecting?" "You, Yusef," she replies. "I am your personal investigator." "I don't need your authorization, I don't owe you anything," he protests. "You're entitled to a security presence over any area you should wish access to," she counters. "I would have much rather you protected this mission yourself. Or to begin with, just inform me first if this mission needs my oversight." "You don't know what to do in case of danger," he sneers as he walks closer to her. "I know full well that in general being a dumbass is a much better option than dealing with some really irate fool." "Don't make me use up all my shit all of the time," she accuses. She puts her hands on his shoulders, which have slumped a bit since his outburst, and leans down so that their foreheads are touching. Her other hand tugs at the side of his face and he jerks his head away. "Ah, so you've made it this far without mentioning…" "Well, *Haruhi*," she cuts him off. "I'd rather not be told that. But if you insist on going all the way to command with no explanation at all… well, I suppose we can do as you've said." He meets her gaze, no longer trying to hide from her, though he's not exactly sure how to deal with her honesty. "Of course I am aware of the situation at hand." She nods. "That is not quite correct. It should be noted, however, that I have already made every effort to retrieve an escort. I am keen to procure your commitment to the mission however, the condition of which was agreed upon early this morning, and I have noted it in all communication." He rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably. "This *is* from me. I never accepted that condition." "How do you know I refused?" "Like I said, I have already done my best to accomplish it myself." She chews on the end of her stickler while he pokes at his side. "Why do you keep seeing her?" "Because the system is looking out for you," he says glumly, rubbing his nose. "You still owe me." "Do you honestly expect me to act any differently than you?" "You had your chance to behave myself. You could not be more uninterested in accomplishing your mission." "Perhaps I am not willing to sacrifice my reason for doing what I am doing… for this, I cannot apologize," he admits. "You gave me permission." She smiles sadly. "Trust me when I say, Yusef-san, I am sorry, but I cannot let you down." His frown deepens as she takes his hands in hers, holding them against her face while he frowns more. "Fine. As long as we keep our distance I will help you." He knows he has a point when he sees the emotion she has on her face. "Keep your distance," he reiterates. "Please." "Of course," she agrees, then says something that angers him to his core. "Matsuoka, as far as I am concerned this mission has become the most dangerous and final task that anyone has ever attempted to kill you in pursuit of." He flinches in surprise, which brings him out of his brief moment of discomfort. The statement hits him like a bat to the heart, then explodes in anger. "I never heard that you were such a coldblooded killer. That is deplorable. Your philosophy on life is crude and corrupted in many ways. You may have had an idealism for years, but that is no excuse to make personal choices that caused harm to others." He frowns. "If this is about playing the martyr for my actions, you have lost your moral high ground long ago." He watches her consider his words, but she does not seem interested in listening. Instead, she simply continues, "I am not certain about your age, Yusef-san… but I thought I heard you making the analogy the other day when you stated that no one should have any problems with blood for blood. It is indeed a deep and abiding theme with you…" He stops, as if unable to say anything else. "What do you know of myself? What would you know about me that you wouldn't find out for yourself?" "We might talk later, Yusef-san," she says lightly. "Perhaps in secret if we should be separated or something." "Whatever," he grunts, clenching his fists. She winks at him. "There might be things you may need to be left alone to talk about with me, Yusef-san… but I will be keeping you all to myself." She stands to give him a kiss, then shuts herself up when he rejects her. She ends up sliding off of him, collapsing onto her bunk in the middle of their room. In his bewildered state, he tries to grasp the words she had just spoken—but at this time they are blurred and blurred again, and he cannot think. He must try harder, or something bad would happen. If not for her, things probably would have gone much worse for him. She opens her eyes to look at him through the thin lamplight as she finishes her last few sentences in a whisper. "Don't give me that look, Kei," she scolds. "Just because you had a good laugh with Amami doesn't mean you are the type to *give in*…" She shoots him an indignant glance, then begins to tear up. "Kei, you are dangerous! You are dangerous!" "Why would you say that?" he asks, exasperated. "It's only been three weeks, and I have already taken so much damage, in more ways than one! Do you really want me to give in now when things might get worse?" She shakes her head. "I don't. I think I have seen enough. I don't want it to be over and done with…" She places a hand to the small of her back and releases a full chorus of frustrations against her back. She makes one last effort to burst into tears when her knees give out and her gaze falls onto his one empty. He rakes his fingers slowly across the lines, the after-image vaguely recalling how it used to feel. She stares at him for a moment with broken eyes and nothing else. Then, in a clear plea, she says, "I know. Just… don't give in… just tell me, please." His eyes flash black and his hands are clutching at his chest as he hums her request into the silence. He opens his mouth to say, "No," when a hand descends over his, stroking her back in a fast action that quickly softens into a more comforting one. He smiles when she looks up at him, but then forces his smile back. "Of course." The previous conversation leads him to suspect, of all things, that Amami might even be trying to take her down. He wishes he could be as on the other side of her but turns down any chances when the hand that rests over him brushes just beside her spine, his lips brushing the tip of her nose. His breathing slows and deepens. She blinks and takes a few seconds to memorize the lines over his hands before she can remove her own, so that they overlap with hers again. She cannot help herself from letting her fingers find their way over his. He curls himself up slightly against her, and when his eyes open she sees a cold fury surrounding his features that he never has been able to hide before now. She feels shame burn like a thousand suns, but finds that she cannot bury it. "Oh," he says. "Stop acting this way, Yusef. I'm a little busy today, right? So take your time, and get the treatment you need… and stop throwing things…!" "As you wish," she mutters. Her anger simmers beneath the surface, but she cannot help herself from lowering her gaze. "Take it easy on me," she tells him calmly. "Are you sure?" She blinks. "Yes," she breathes. "For now, anyway… but at some point I'll need you to come back. I'm only asking to be treated right. Just let me heal and I might give in." His brow furrows, but there is a hint of annoyance behind it. "Okay." "I need you to understand…" "Yeah… yes," he mumbles. "So long as you don't break me, I won't forget that. And I'll come back." She lets the evening play out, content to let him go on with the show that was his exchange with Amami. His downward path down to his wounds, however, keeps getting steeper. It's uncomfortable, and he seems to be losing confidence in his ability to handle them. At least twice now he feels as if he will be pulled off of the bed completely, both times when his feet suddenly slip further into the thin fabric on either side of his hips, making it difficult to keep upright. His fingers draw up on the cloth, but do nothing to further alleviate the pain in his left arm. - • - They had been on the second round of missions since that first day. She doubts if he can be a pain in her ass again without being reminded of it often. Once, even, but that was only once, and she made sure he would never learn of the adrenaline rush, of how proud he must have been to pull a stunt that she would rather not hear of ever being repeated again. Instead she had to bite her tongue and say things with a little touch of humor, the awkward smile, in a desperate attempt to drown the pang in her stomach whenever she sees the rakugo talent at work in him. Both their cases are the same: an archer with a bullet lodged through the heart of the traitor, a mentalist who cannot make friends and with no one to pull her out of the water from the moment she wakes up to the first hour of the day. She notes with distaste that her little brother, Alain, can manipulate her into tears before sending one of his henchmen, Gobar, in to taunt the man, and then stands between the two of them and watches them trade punches with glassy gazes while he collapses into exhaustion with a meat-bent grin. When his next caster, Laroche, collapses with a message that he's bleeding from the chest and wants her to choose between giving the receiver time or taking care of him, she decides not to let him down. She doesn't understand why the legendary Kira can pull through such injuries with only the smallest wounds, but she does realize, and the ability of the body far outweighs the ability of its creator. Their lives are more important than whether the body is alive or dead. - • - While they were at it, they took another mission as well: a killer cult of which there was no hiding from them and that had clearly already begun his project. Kira kept a watchful eye on Gobar while they found themselves an archer to whom not even the power of air showed that he was useless to the enemy. But it was clear to the others that if they have to fight their way out of a pile of bodies, then they'd have to risk going at it alone. And they know just how good they have it when Kira is ready for them to do just that. After setting their lantern up and watching their target unfold before their eyes, the exalt merely says, "Come on," before raising the stakes. - • - Unfortunately for them, their encounter does not give their luck any better. In fact, a few of their crew members had fallen, while others were injured more severely. In the three days since they had left Tokyo, their numbers had shrunk to two: Harken and him. It's a useful trade-off for how short-handed they are. He intends to send one of his servants with them to oversee their execution by Gnawas, only to have it turned down because of his own injury. He himself needs time to recover and rest. Still, he makes the threat clear enough to put the assassin outside of his comfort zone and how determined Kira is to hold on to their lives. A week has passed since their assignment has been carried out. The hired man returned and told Harken, of course, that it would be impossible to get any good information out of them without using extreme measures, but his words were like balm to the greedy spy. This is very much different from the day before, when he would have never believed it would happen. So he would tell Harken only what he wanted to hear and the fact that there were already animals chewing on corpses was of no concern whatsoever. Once he had their information, then he would bring them to an entrance marked by an emergency entrance that was nearby and worked upon through immense amounts of effort and energy, especially because it was to be an old mineshaft that was destroyed during some period of time. On this occasion it would take less effort to make their own way in, and they were called to their task with many cheerful shouts of your mission accomplished and congratulations on reaching your objective. Thankfully, he and Harken only have to infiltrate the name of one of their private bank accounts to find it empty. They were able to open an account under a fake name with the account from which they received every single trinket, as well as teddy bears and drawings. It's a mere point against which they can either fail or succeed. - • - It takes nearly an entire day to find them another individual who is unaware of them. They tried something similar a week before and had failed miserably. With only six hours before his leave, they tried again and found someone with a terrible attitude towards their kidnapping. When the exalt saw through his tactics, Gobar picked the fight immediately, but it would take too long to persuade him to give them information when the chance was lost. In the end, he had to abandon their task because of some preparation in a distant region of the planet, but it gave them more time and gave them more leverage against the client. - • - They are able to extract five more people in that period. Four are accounted for and can be smuggled onto their ship safely, while the fifth is sent back to their employer with a few charms as precautionary measures against them being snuffed out in the next encounter. On their way to their next mission they have more time to call on trust and a higher bounty on their head as well. In fact, now only one person on the client's side remembers them, though he thinks they don't matter as much as they did before. The man they encountered in the mineshaft also remembered. Gobar knows he'll lose that source of information quickly, but knowing how attentive he can be, he asks her, "I trust you, though, Duki." Her response is quick. "You may have the intel, yes. But I've the antidote." - • - Being wounded, however, doesn't lead to much more freedom than before. Now, when he's caught, he has to stay alive for all that's left of them to be sent to their next destination. The process usually takes much longer than it used to. Two more prisoners die each time. It might seem cruel, but they've learned not to try and manipulate or escape. Whenever possible, Gobar tells them what they need to know, and listens to their excuses when they say they'd rather die than work for the torturers. It's a way to keep their bodies farUsing high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context The businessman smiled. "What?" "Just wanted to say thank you." "For what, Cap?" "You've helped me more than you can ever know. You were the first person I trusted to lead the rescue operation and you have been there for me since day one and I didn't want that to change because of me. I don't know how I was ever so lucky to have you." "You don't know that," said the billionaire. He took a step closer and reached out to shake the billionaire's hand with both hands. "Do not take that as an invitation to lead me again, let alone to come with me now. At least not yet. He's still in custody, although perhaps you'd prefer him on the front lines more than I would. But as a guest of the CCPD, you are the prime target for our latest round of operations. So I hope you'll agree that it would be irresponsible of me to leave him behind. If you'd rather not be away from him during this time, I understand. But if we did, then I understand that leaving without notice would be a grave dishonor to my organization. In any case, your assistance wouldn't be needed so long as I remained behind me." "Why do you ask?" "We have several leads. I'm sure of it." The billionaire's eyebrows rose. "And?" "They do not concern you in the slightest. He's one member of the New Empire, but they operate entirely independently. And there are no protocols that indicate me being included in his interrogation." "Oh. Well, I should get going before I start worrying about my health." /chapter content Chapter 2 --------- chapter content Omegas were easy to get. They were frail, and as such, almost certainly smaller than their alpha counterparts, but there weren't many who were this big or which, in turn, could safely be trusted to respond to such a tiny command. The situation started innocently enough. A low-ranking DEO employee in charge of security had been kidnapped while running from an attacker. The suspect was a skilled-enough shooter who had wound up successfully escaping for the same reason. This DEO man had asked for another man to contact security regarding it and he received authorization for someone to assume that role. He wouldn't like it if the official didn't show up in the allotted timeframe and the reporting officer had said that the man in question would receive proper paperwork once everything was sorted out. As the initial directive went, it all came down to two things: location and proximity. There were certain clues necessary to pin point which city the suspect was operating from, so time was a factor. And the bastard had paid out considerably well at going free that day, so there was no doubt that they were dealing with the wrong guy. He looked at his phone. He checked his schedule. There was no problem with me waiting for another DEO man to contact me. In fact, it would only take me three minutes to check the train schedules and do a double-check on the ability to get through security on any given day with four people. Of course, by doing that, there was a chance that there would be two more people who were connected to the monster and would be quick to protect him, which just presented an unexpected complication. It wasn't like they would have people who could wait on them. So this was now another part of the puzzle that he would need to work out, which thankfully left all of the other parts alone. Sooner or later, he would find them, but the situation just now was far from ideal. He may have been quite capable of making it work, but he knew that a high-paying job at the last second, paid on an hourly basis, was not to be missed. Or even at the last minute. That way, no one else would worry about who to protect, or who not to watch over. He would have plenty of people to help him in the meantime, but nobody to lose for that important purpose. There was nothing but work in this world today. During this long silence, something started to go wrong. Just barely enough to justify the prolonged wait to accomplish this small task, but too soon to satisfy the guy in question. There was no suspicion of a hostage situation, so long as the contact could somehow get them into security. And as a matter of fact, they might have to. They might have actually gone outside of our borders and gotten through without anyone knowing. So there was no real risk in stopping. Unfortunately, all of those factors put the agency employee and one of his members at far greater risk than they were willing to give themselves. They couldn't spend too much time outside in high risk areas. No, not on their own back. Not now. Sure, it was obvious who was involved in this situation, but there was no guarantee. He would find out soon enough. There was no need to speculate too much. He wouldn't. It was just him and those people. With as little information as possible, he knew there was still plenty that he didn't know and that the chances of finding out what that person wanted were pretty slim. Yet, he had to at least try to find out. He supposed that his line of work kept the general public unaware, though. Most people just didn't make it any harder for themselves, least of all for such a delicate situation where the stakes were so high. He wondered how many headlines went on and off in the time he'd spent in the medical field, and smirked when he realized he would have to do the same. The contact didn't answer his questions, so he was forced to contact someone else for assistance. His searches worked on their own now, so he should get the latter's attention. The guy was a scam artist, and he knew it, because he ignored him and sent up new orders until he found something useful. There was nothing useful to steal, of course. He tried looking through many websites, but no matter how hard he tried, it wasn't something of value. But every once in a while, he'd get lucky and find the unexpected; lots of photographs and videos that were either child porn or pedophilic; disgusting things that almost made him angry and how did a young black man end up near a drop of baby oil? He rolled his eyes and did some basic research on his own. Then he got his request to schedule a meeting from his boss. Of course, she didn't do many calls and so she didn't bother to contact him first, which made this a problem that he had to sort out himself. She seemed to not have any doubts about her subordinates, but this particular person had none. It was important enough to the person herself that she cared to use all means she had to earn her pay. It wouldn't do to start accusing others of smuggling or something, right? "I need you to investigate this person," she told him with a firm nod. "And I won't budge until the kid shows up in my office for questioning. He has a tendency to repeat patterns of behavior, so he will also have to supply you with documents." She sounded angry, but that was actually quite amusing considering the state of the kid. What was he going to prove anyway? They were planning to deny him a fucking job? "It is important that we go after that kid at all costs. They've been pretty lax in letting us go after the organization members who have done their duty." She took a deep breath before continuing: "At the moment, though, there is no security for them in your area. They are on the side of the fence, meaning that if you're lucky, they'll wander over to the other side and you'll have a friend or something to help you. If not, you may have to choose between killing them or letting them go." She gave him a hard stare. "I will find that kid, Commander." He swore to God that it was true, because otherwise he wouldn't have come back here. He felt almost dizzy just thinking about it. "Help me with this guy and take care of that kid," he repeated and with a shake of his head, he directed a glare at the shady looking fellow waiting in his office. "Those idiots," he muttered under his breath, then gave up and sighed. "Fine." With a small voice of acceptance, he left the building without a single smile or meaningful expression. By the end of the day, he had been waiting for six hours, through many painful phone calls, emails, and texts, all with the same result. He was getting the same response time. He would ask again later. No one would answer at that point, so he texted the contact again and waited for a reply. This time, instead of the usual trickster reply, he got *follow me* from the handler. The bastard was well aware that it was him and that he only pretended to be someone else to learn the identity of the contact in order to achieve that. The contact must have intended to call him for backup, but the bastard misinterpreted this and sent the message through the usual channel, thinking that this should be over. When it hadn't been, the bastard assumed the contact must not have been coming back to the liaison. It was time to rephrase the question to attempt to steer the contact away from trying to locate the assclown again. *Well, before I tell you what the fuck is going on, it should probably be explained to you, *the bastard wrote. He sounded angrier than ever and although it was half a day after that message had come through, the second time the bastard refused to give up and started talking to his contact again. *Think it through before you read anything else, Colonel, *he typed and then followed up with: *In other words, since we have a case right now that should have ended in our favor by now, it doesn't mean we're going to sit idly by and let the ballsiest of asses run around your damn town like an entitled child before they deserve it.* And so forth, ad nauseam. *Consider this in safe keeping, *the bastard replied, composing a second message which described in detail the time frame that he planned to pester him with and then responded with this: *If this isn't enough to ruin the bastard's fun, I'm going to call for backup soon and personally shank him. And this will probably involve a lot of blood, so be ready.* At the end, he followed up: *You know, I can tell by your tone that you don't know what else to say to this asshole.* The bastard just twiddled his thumbs and replied: *you've got the right to insult me every day of my life for the rest of my life.* *Can I get that on record?* he asked, glad to be done with him. *I will never let this bastard live it down. You mean to tell me you'd quit being an FBI agent because of him?* *Humph, your stunt will not go unnoticed by anyone.* The bastard had heard enough and did some prep work, reading through whatever instructions she had given him and crafting an elaborate ruse on how to corner him and pull his trust through a bloody thread. At least he knew when to stop if he was about to piss off this ruthless woman. One hour later, he stood on his balcony in full gear, moving to the windows and getting ready to open the doors of his job. It wasn't even an hour, and the bastard would walk by him, still in the parking lot, and the bastard would be back on his doorstep and he would use the force of the entire world behind him to make sure he would pay the damn sucker back. Now, this wasn't the man he wanted to handle the case for the second time, but this was his job and he needed to get the bastard for good. The bastard was smart as hell. He'd set up a recording device inside his apartment, forcing his ass into the room and saying that he wanted to know why he was so unprofessional as to do something so disrespectful to his pride. As promised, the bastard burst into a speech and meant to play this card against him, as if what he did didn't matter at all. That was foolish, the bastard could see through his façade immediately, and he was almost certain that the bastard would start making his way over to his balcony and trying to fuck the bastard in the head before pulling out his knife and murdering him. But as always, the bastard didn't listen to his own advice and instead played for time, giving him more details about the case so he wouldn't kill him so easily. He grew further away and tried to stop, but the bastard noticed. *No sir, you were supposed to meet my new contact right after the season finale,* he replied. *And now you've stalled, asshole.* The bastard let him get a little bit closer but still left no doubts as to who the contact was; he didn't even put a blindfold on the bastard, forcing him to at least pretend. Maybe he was dumb and careless because he thought the bastard didn't need to look suspicious for it to work, but the bastard didn't take it personally and continued getting closer and closer to that night. The bastard moved from the front of the apartment to stand in a small square in the hall between the living room and kitchen where he could see the living room and the balcony, three rooms from each other. If the bastard ever made a mistake again, he would know about it, but the bastard only slowed down when he was sure that the bastard would return to wait in the living room. On that day, the bastard was almost ready to jump. The bastard started out of his own will to harass the bastard, making comments to him in an obvious attempt to catch him off guard. They became a test, to find out whether the bastard would attack him, at which point the bastard had to be prepared for whatever he would bring against him. The bastard started off annoying and careless, with his speech and manner, all the time attempting to win the bastard's trust and convince him to come out from the flat and face him. The bastard was attempting to be careless. He had trained himself to beat the bastard once or twice to prove it. He had used his particular tactic against people who tried to hide, making them come to him at night or after noontime or during the week. His plan was one of efficiency, but his knack was to make the opponent miss his target. By slowly nipping at the bastard's legs or trying to slip his knife under his shirt, the bastard gained his trust and started using the tactics against the bastard again. While the bastard was very close to the possibility of taking him on on a fight, the bastard kept it carefully ambiguous and the bastard used those few attacks as opportunities to further his offensive and move his plan forward. The bastard had been working his way around and eventually found him sitting on the stairs at 3 AM. He hadn't been prepared for this turn, and the bastard knew it, so he decided to sit up and fidget so the bastard would be less likely to rush him with his attempt to help him. He waited until the bastard was giving him little nods and deep breaths before he started jumping up and down. The bastard had thought the bastard would kill him when he had figured out his intentions. "You want to fucking lie low? Fine, I'll keep a sharp eye on you," the bastard smirked, clearly proud of himself for controlling the situation. "If I'm still alive, we're talking tomorrow morning at dawn. Now, either you come for me or you'll be knocking on my door at 6 AM. I will not let you come back here again and I will not let you think this was a mistake, fucker." *That is… not a reasonable offer.* "Why should I be worried, bitch? I have served you loyally for four months, you never miss a day. You really think I care that you got in my face to tell me that you're lying around on your piss-weak balcony knowing that I'm sitting right there, let alone going to get us into real trouble?" *I would have gotten in there with a shotgun and destroyed your shitty apartment building before this began* *"So? Do you have a problem with it?"* "Oh, I don't think I do." "Really. So why don't you just come right to me, bitch? I'm hungry. Just knock on my door and I'm just gonna hop on down."* *"Fine, we'll make it quick, then. As you say, the bastard still has his leg up his ass, so we're gonna make him lose some of that stinkiness and pussy-ass pants."* "This isn't your place to fucking call bullshit to me, but if you don't want to talk, then I have no say here. Now, if you want to get in there you better just fucking do it." "Nope, I'm good for what IUsing high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context In reality, the only time that Merlin was confused was when Morgana told him that she and the Princes had become friends after the War. His thoughts had been cut off in his jumbled thoughts of the socialites he met in King's Landing. He wasn't ready to think anything more about it at the moment. Later, he thought he might have said something before about his friendship with the Princes, but he couldn't remember, and so the memory went entirely. The next evening they came back to Casterly Rock as usual, but they saw no sign of Ser Loras on the watch tower. A search later revealed that Loras had gone to Lady Caerwyn's wake, having heard of her condition after she died. Merlin was shocked. He wasn't sure why, though it did mean that one of his men had gone missing. After Morgana learned that the ship Kastein had arrived from Dorne and sent a message to the Vale of Arryn, she went to attend that feast she'd always loved as a child when she was growing up. She didn't expect to be able to meet her old friends there so soon. But it was happening, and she wanted to be part of it. The Red Keep hadn't changed much since she was last here. Her own rooms had changed very little, though she never said so. She knew there was a reason for that. The family, large and small, were all far larger now. A knock sounded at the door to her room, and she opened it to see King Margon. She smiled and moved to respond to him, smiling in turn at his son. "I didn't know how you felt, but this is unexpected. I just heard of your arrival from the Master. I am glad to see you are feeling better. But I must say that you aren't in your own rooms anymore. I guess you are still recovering from your wounds?" King Margon smiled at her in return. "And I'm sure it would be hard to move out of Casterly Rock, even for me." "He's not my man anymore," Merlin said. "Not that I want to; it feels strange without him. But we'll come back to King's Landing. Are you sure you would prefer to live in Castle Black instead of Casterly Rock? If the peace talks we've planned are successful, you will surely make your own choices." Margon snorted. "The peace talks are useless. I'm sure we'll find something. Honestly, you are all useless." Merlin smiled. "If this man seems to be getting easier to use, I'll tell you about that in my book. Perhaps I will be helpful to you as well, after all, you still haven't changed in thirty years. Your father was right – an old man such as you needs information to stay alive. Please come over to my chambers, Margon. We can talk of your desires." Margon seemed to be considering it. "How would I go about speaking to you in person?" he finally asked. Merlin waved his hand, saying, "Do it yourself." There was a pause, and then he nodded and smiled at the king. "Very well." "Why, thank you, my lady, for agreeing to see me today. I don't suppose there is a chance to speak before tomorrow?" Merlin shook his head at the old man's determination. "Of course. Right this way, lass." He was already taking her by the arm to open the door, and she immediately went to take off her shoes and wrap her cloak before hugging him to her chest and kissing him. "Well, it's good to have you here, my lady. This is going to be a long conversation indeed," he said. Merlin kissed her once more before kissing her lips in return. "Thank you," she murmured. "I'm glad you agreed to talk to me, because I really like to tell people what is happening to them." She laughed. "That's what mothers do, my dear brother," she teased. "I figured the Queen would take a fancy to you, but it was fun to hear you join the King's Hand after all. You look rather good in those robes." Merlin gave her a small smile. "You're probably going to get me killed on the road back to Riverrun, so I'm not sure if I'd show you all the pomp of the capital," he laughed. "But I'd gladly be thrown to the lions." "Are you going to sleep over at the Crowned Stag or the Red Keep tonight?" Merlin smiled. "It depends. There might be easier rooms in Casterly Rock if I asked you, I was thinking of visiting the royal residence." "Don't you have to go to court for that?" she questioned. Merlin grimaced. "What else would I do, Catelyn?" "Call in sick, eh?" Merlin smiled. "Are you referring to Ser Brady Bener?" "I assume so." "Cherish your traditions, princess. A knight and I are on our way to find you to reclaim Riverrun from the wrongdoers who invaded and destroyed it." "I agree with King Baratheon that the realm should be unified. And I agree that we can begin to rebuild Riverrun." "Thanks," Merlin said, smiling at her. "We'll go with everyone else." The girl leaned into him. "Is it true you visited the castle last night?" Merlin swallowed, and squeezed her tighter. "Last night, yes. It happened very suddenly. Once I was meeting with Lady Lyanna and King Robb's boys." "Good luck, my love," she teased him. Merlin puffed his cheeks out. "It'll be good luck all the same," he promised. She smiled. "Take care, and remember who you're fighting for." Merlin winked at her. "Let's go." /chapter content Chapter 13 ---------- chapter content "As I told you at the beginning of this chapter, I am leaving Riverrun, and I won't be coming back." Gondor had all but fallen, and so had the throne. Merlin fell in love with a crown prince, a man who would sooner lose his life than hurt a hair on anyone's head, a knight whose heart was not only full of a kind heart but also evil, a warrior's soldier who held the deepest respect for both men and women, and someone who loved so dearly his lady - who had done his best to fulfill the role King Harold was expected to. As King Gondor had sieged Riverrun, so his majesty and his people had destroyed the kingdom they had been sworn to protect and he had failed them and hurt his prince. His vassals had destroyed everything they had left behind, but he wouldn't allow himself to be dragged down too. He hadn't wanted to abandon his family in any way, but she had pleaded him and she begged him and he still insisted on defending his sister-queen for two years, and most especially when the desperate soldiers were at their gates. Merlin didn't fight anymore, he didn't want to be the hero, he just wanted to destroy, with none of the savages and nobody he had once believed. He would not kneel down to any man, any army, no matter how high he might be called. None of the men under his command did so either, even the ones who had returned from the dead. All of them were resolute that Gondor had lost, that he would never be better than the Horntail, and that nothing but a ruthless, axe-wielding, sword-wielding warrior could stand against him. No wonder he now hated all of them. But, the things his dreamless sisters had sung - a beautiful wife, fair sons and daughters, the birth of his dreams - they were broken into pieces. His younger siblings would always remember their friends, their brothers, even his daughter. They remembered how one young prince stole his sister away in their mother's arms, how an axe could murder through his sister without mercy, how his sister held his hand on his wedding night and how the thought had chilled him to the bone. But now, he would never forget. He would never forget that one of the king's children - whether pure blood or bastard - was the very person he needed to deal his murder, the person he had desired his entire life. There was no longer an army, a standing army, as his ambitions called for, nor did he have a successor to battle, nor did he have anything he loved. And the outside world had sunk him more deeply than Gondor had ever done. Merlin called himself a coward, he called himself cowardly, even brave on some mornings. But Gondor hadn't forgotten, he had actually heard his father call him "my prince, and my son", as he had died to save his country. Merlin had been called a traitor, thief, even worse. Everyone had been calling him a fool - there were none who had believed that he would succeed, that he would stay strong, that he would dare to fight, and for the first time, Merlin knew that he would pay for it all in a way that Gondor had never expected. That was why he said goodbye to his sister before speaking with Lord Follen, who for the first time, didn't think Gondor had lost him. "I know how the reputation is," he said. "A coward and a betrayer, who threw away the sword in his own hands." For Merlin, words were broken into fragments, but the vision of Gondor on the plains before them could never be better, it would never be surpassed. It would be the one thing that could give him the strength to keep going and carry on. All his hope and thought were shattered when those words came true. It had been nearly three days since the battle of Lordsport and in that time, the entire country had fallen apart, but Gondor had clung to the hope that they would somehow win. In the next two months, the vast majority of the kingdoms had been destroyed - with no more resistance from men, no more songs to sing and no more hopes to hold on to. With each day that passed, it was dawning on them that the battle was over, they were no longer dealing with men, with knights and men, with knights who refused to surrender and only remained loyal because they were afraid of the crown prince. In the end, Arthur and Arwen survived the disaster that Gondor had doomed their country to, because they were willing to live and die with each other for the sake of the whole kingdom - not merely for Gondor, for Merlin and for the people who lived in the lands that surrounded them. Then, it was as though time stood still, until... "The southern kingdoms are faring better than the North," Follen said. "Are they?" "What is done cannot be undone." Merlin knew this, he had seen it so many times. But still the bonds of mortality tugged him forward with what he would have liked to have foreseen years ago. "If I remember correctly, Gondor has..." "Yes," Follen sighed, "we have taken the strength from these enemies. Some were pillaged, they were left to fend for themselves. But I can assure you that the greater part of them will go down in defeat. Many were wild, almost feral beasts when they got here and even more now. One time, we sat outside for twenty hours waiting to kill a pack. It only took forty minutes to kill a group of berserkers and they charged as if we were a battle and not a robbery. We did it right in their heads, which is a rare talent, especially on the plains. You should have known, Merlin, and you should have seen them for what they are. Do not blame yourself, your mistake was that it was you who showed them what they truly were. Your sacrifices at the Field of Cormen have made us stronger and we will strike again, for they cannot come." Merlin could only groan. "But the longer this war drags on, the more I hate you. I wanted it to be over so badly. I don't blame you for the carnage, but... I want to have them around me and I don't have the chance anymore." "I know," Follen replied. "Arthur does not understand, Merlin, he only wants the battles to stop. But we have been healing for three hundred years and the illnesses can be cured." "You have healing? Are they going to die again? Do they have too much suffering to endure?" "No," Follen said. "No. The bodies we send to our armies are clean, no cuts or bruises, and if we get our hands on these families' children and see that they are afraid of something, they feel their hearts break - but their experience isn't as long." Merlin began to protest, but Follen cut him off. "There is hope for you in that," he said. "Because what happens when we see their young as we slaughter them in their homes, what happens when we see them for what they really are? Everything changes." Merlin frowned. "When?" "Waking, especially." "Or maybe after that?" Follen nodded. "It's possible. There are those in Gondor who, for one simple reason, fight for you, and for all our kingdom - my uncle, sir Corvi and others like them." "These people are savages, aren't they?" "Just as savage," Follen replied, nodding. "But there are those who, for another reason, fight for our kingdom, and for all of Gondor. I know a number of those who fought in the War of the Kings, Follywon. Ser Seymour in Rivendell. Herrin and Jethro of Sarsfield. Sir Ioredda fought for you. And there are many others, and those people take their deaths hard, but never choose to return." Merlin smiled. "Oh, you all have your strengths and weaknesses, I know, but you all fight with an admirable faith in humanity and bravery. Come, no more of this." "My lord?" Follen had him by the hand and held him upright. "What do you mean?" "To put my bowmen and archers into battle, and I told you not to listen to the rumors, not after the Massacre at Cardolan, but I didn't say you could take me away from home and send me to war with no sense of how the people may fight or die. I mean now, please." Follen nodded and pointed to a group of cavalrymen. "Look at that man there. His sword swings with all the power of a drunk bear, in that dull way he uses it. He's full of guts, hells, absolute death headed creatures, and he hasn't the courage to take to the field." Merlin looked at Follen. "Are you suggesting I remove him from the field?" Follen paled. "If only he would leave his whore-mama and her whore boyfriend out of the field, he would give a good shout, didn't you say? He thinks that neither one of them want him to risk himself." Merlin clenched his jaw. "Look, I know these things are difficult, and I understand your thinking - but your loss is mine. Arthur would pay all of us so many times for even a day's fighting against enemy horses - so why waste your sword on this, am I wrong?" "I'm speaking only of War of the Kings." "Surely, your brother held that men were sacrificed in all wars and there was no good in this war; either you were right or I was right." Merlin looked back to the front with a wry grin. "Then in this war, we will bleed all the dead of a continent." "But we're doing us no harm, we haven't done us harm." "Indeed, my lord. In the beginning, you made me miserable. I know, Sir Arthur has said it more than once, I know you love those families so much, you would have fought with them even if you hadn't loved the people you killed, you would have gone as far as you possibly could have if you were fighting to defend the liberties you held dear... The Wall..." "Merlin." "What is to stop you from the walls in your mind or your heart if your purpose was simply to fight against your own lord?" "I would fight with my people no matter what." Follen started to rise but Merlin stopped him. "Sir, don't step in front of anyUsing high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context This wasn't the first time they'd danced with more than one girl at a party. The leader was usually using her powers to talk his way to the front, and when one of his buddies showed up to keep an eye on the count and to direct everyone else away from them, Hanji was like, "Fuck! I gotta get home before the man from my part can make me go do something." She probably should have known that she couldn't be trusted around him anymore, but then again she probably should have learned by now not to walk anywhere near him without accompanying him. He used his power to deliver just enough hesitation so he didn't offend her or get her in trouble, but he didn't know how to deal with it. So yeah, when he found out she was the new person in the party, what did he do? Nah, why would he have listened to the rules about walking the dance floor? He's got a friend who's not paying attention to the things on the table at the tables and will just follow him wherever he leads him anyway, so why do they need rules for this? Because, as long as it's someone who isn't important to Hanji, he doesn't care. Maybe it's bad luck for someone who wants to be friends with such a clumsy person… He decided not to talk to her anymore after that, and she understood. It sucks. It was pretty far away to be friends with someone who was definitely better than you and your shitty room, after all. He's pretty sure that if she saw him now, they would both hit it off instantly and be teaming up to murder him. But he likes working with people, right? Okay, maybe a little… But he loves talking about movies and pop culture, so that's good. People respect his opinion about something because he cares about it, and if they knew it had been carefully and thoughtfully offered to him, they would probably want to listen to him. It's one of the major perks of having powers. There's a knock at his door. He opens it, promptly admits who it is, and takes a peek in. There are dozens of guys—presumably Jiraiya and Obito—standing on the other side of the door who are whispering a bunch of shit about Kushina. This isn't their usual jam. Is that some kind of payback? Fuck no, Jiraiya and Obito work together, they wouldn't have come to Hanzo if they were too busy. With him in the mood, Obito said his next meeting at the Hokage's office would be short, so she might not even notice. "If you want to talk about anything, don't hesitate to ask," he told her, signaling to her. "I don't expect you to agree with my point of view on the matter, but it'd help." He threw an arm around her shoulders and leaned her into the doorframe, trying to give her a better look at the older guys. "This is one of the most important meetings in the whole club, wasn't it?" he continued, letting her pretend she hadn't noticed. "I need you to let me in, and there's only one reason you can be here. What do you say, princess?" She couldn't figure out why anyone would trust a drunken hooligan like this, but at least he'd behaved and followed the rules, which allowed her to be here. "Um," she had to think really hard. "It's an entirely personal question," she mumbled. "Not like you should tell me, or I'll just go fuck myself. Just, uh… well, a lot of stuff has happened, and I need a safe space to talk about it." He ignored the gesture, like he'd expected that. She snorted again, there was nothing fun about making him feel like he was the annoying one being pampered. She knew she was supposed to call him but she still wasn't sure how. "Um… I'd rather you stay there?" "Just so I don't have to leave right away," he said softly. "I'd like to talk with you more privately. No, really, if you'd prefer." She didn't respond to that one. He knew she could be herself when she was alone, but she'd never speak to him about her thoughts on a subject unless she knew he wasn't about to punch him for that—which she'd already done. He wanted this to be extra personal for both of them. It was stupid, he knew. If she didn't want to, he didn't force her hand, but it would be nice to know that he was listening and giving her his thoughts. "Hanji… they keep telling me that I'm important, and maybe I'm, but I feel like if they think you're a punchline it's kind of…" She hit him in the arm. "No. Okay, um… be a good girl and come with me. You can call me, if you want to, right? I'll always answer, right? Can I touch you? Let me see you in person? Or am I just gonna have to imagine you? Whatever." He tapped his foot in an impatient fashion for a moment before tugging her inside, then pulled her into a kiss. "Come on… It's an important meeting. We can share our memories." "Deal," she finally acquiesced, flushing. He was a jerk, but she'd given him a favor, and he owed her that much. She entered his apartment, but not right away. He was waiting for her at his desk, pen clutched under his chin like a chef was about to make his entrees, and his bow tie unfurled in preparation for her arrival. As soon as she got close enough to them, he banged his head against the desk and made her turn around to see how long he had her staring up at him. It looked like several seconds. It looked like a moment. It looked like that and then he leaned over her and kissed her on the lips. They stayed like that for what seemed like forever before he pulled back and shoved her into his bed, spreading her legs wide so he could climb in. Her eyes widened in surprise, she hadn't even been aware that he could. ~~ It was a good week, Hanzo thought as he turned the stove off and used his chopsticks to puncture what was left of his baked donuts in the living room. Kiba had set him up with some gifts to try and sate his sweet tooth, they both agreed it was worth more than the implied price. Well, considering he bought another special meal just to wind up eating it the next day… Or the day after that, the day after that, and kept going all week long. "So, what should I do about this guy Hanzo?" He watched as Hanzo bent over and put out the extra goodies, nearly squishing them with his height and weight behind him. He stuffed the leftovers into his mouth, not taking his eyes off the ridiculously melty package he'd found in the trash, and dipped a huge cookie into it. "Maybe you can report him to the Hokage, or turn him over to the cops?" Hanzo stood up and flexed his teeth, scowling. "Well, in that case we don't have a choice in the matter. I'll send a private message to the Hokage as well, though. The thing is, this guy and I, we kinda grew up together. See, about eight years ago, as it was going on, that guy literally decided he had the perfect blond princess and wanted to adopt her into the big family of zabuza**nin. And apparently we are talking seven or eight years ago," he smirked, pretending he'd forgotten the details. Kiba snorted. "Plus, the kid's getting older. I've always been super against it—she was pretty much created to be a trophy, and if my jounin raised her that way, I never saw the logic in it—but she's smart as hell. Might end up helping us take down the criminal element. So, yeah, we're just calling it quits. While we're there, we're going to start looking into what info's out there about him and his operations. Also to make sure we know why we want to look into his activities. I've noticed you really aren't telling anyone about this." "Okay, well," Kiba shifted uncomfortably, "I'll report him. What if the Hokage sees this shit? And yeah, I'll tell the police about it, because I really want to help you. I'm also gonna make a few requests and messages for you, though. Some of them might change or be added to the rules as well. One, just so everyone's on the same page, and here I'm being serious: please tell me if you get any evidence in your files about him and his crime syndicate, or otherwise. No matter what you find, or who you meet, please let me know. My team and I have also decided to begin tracking down his business associates and find out where he has his hand in every new gang he's involved in. That includes business partners, even associates, names you know. I want to make sure if anything else is going down, it's out there so it won't just get hidden under someone's back. If you and your team can find anything, report it, even if it's been done in the past. Especially if it's been done in the past." There was a twinkle in his eye as he nodded his head, seeming not to think it all through. "Two, she still hasn't told me what to say when we talk about you, so I'm gonna say this: no matter what happens, I am gonna keep going for as long as I want to keep finding you and talking to you, or more. Period." Kiba's gaze dropped from Hanzo's mouth to his own, brows knitted together in confusion. "Did you expect me to be, like, forced to give her some answers just because I've figured out her only weird obsession?" Hanzo crossed his arms and stared at his reflection in the bare toilet. "And three, no matter what the situation, I will always tell you everything, even if it pisses me off that I'm keeping something from you." His eyes were narrowed in concentration and he pursed them slightly as he tilted his chin up a bit and stared back at Kiba. "What?" "She knows that… she's gotta know. She doesn't know that you'll want to keep checking in and seeing if she feels the same way I do. And she's okay with that." "Is this just one of those days for you too, Hanzo?" Kiba moved closer, placing himself on the sink just in front of him. He couldn't miss the smirk creeping up on his friend's face. "You kind of haven't paid attention in one of your classes. I mean, not paying attention in the love triangle, but probably." Hanzo broke the gaze, his eyes darting from Kiba's to the floor, looking away. "Well, that's because you hadn't picked up my studies. See, we fight all the time over how to study, and I never do it, my mind stays focused only on training." Hanzo propped himself up on one elbow, peeking down at the pants that were draped over the toilet's rim. "It's okay to fall in love with someone. You just have to try harder." He pursed his lips as he spoke, growing bolder. "You know, I don't know what exactly you and Ryou-chan look like under the hood, but we're definitely a couple. I'd put us on our tiptoes." He stretched an inch, his other hand coming up to brush his fingers over Kiba's own knuckles. "Did you ever tell her?" "No. Why? Because she was my wife," his best friend scoffed, glaring up at him. "Yeah, sure. What? Are you serious? So you don't trust me?" Hanzo rolled his eyes as he laid a light kiss on his friend's stubbled cheek. "We just agreed. Just the way you look like you like me, I guess." "Sorry, but I can't fuck off without an explanation. If I don't understand what's going on between us, then I don't get to fuck off either. Or even pick and choose which details I want to share, all the time. To both of us. Which means I'm gonna be on your side no matter what. Especially when it comes to playing the long game. Which, no, I haven't worked out." "Yeah, because you can make up anything you want." Hanzo's smirk grew as he moved to put an arm around Kiba's shoulders. "Speaking of fantasies, wouldn't it be ironic if we started saving an image while I was naked with you the whole time?" Kiba had his eyebrows raised in surprise. "And I'm pretty sure that after what you did with Ryou's ring, she'd probably be less tempted to do anything illegal to me. She'd probably even be more careful about who she picks for my unprotected flings." Hanzo set their foreheads together, watching as Kiba shot him a look. "Speaking of touching me… since our discussion I've decided that we should continue not to physically hurt each other." "Okay, sorry, I haven't done anything yet and have considered my limits…" Kiba coughed hard against the backs of his fingers. "Wait… so you just don't want us to ever make out with each other?" Hanzo sat back up on his toes, resting his chin on top of Kiba's bare chest. "Who knows? You're cute, though." Kiba huffed a chuckle. "Can we talk about this again later?" His hands clutched tighter into his friends, one brushing against his arm and the other rested over his dick. "Please, y'all. Right now I'd love it if we could stop pretending we don't know each other for the past couple months." "No arguing. Now, fuck me, please?" "Sure." Hanzo slid one of his palms over Kiba's dick, finding that it felt slippery and full as the warm air was kissed across his skin. He moved his hand to his mouth, taking the tip into his mouth slowly before beginning to suck and fuck the tip into his mouth and off his tongue. "Ahhh, fuck… fuck." He pulled his thumb up with his hand and bit down on the skin. "Kiba." Hanzo pulled away from his mouth, stills squeezing his asscheeks as he turned away to look at his friend. "You look hot." "Do I?" "Especially when you look that good." "I'm a fucking ninja." Hanzo laughed. "Sorry, love, I didn't mean for that to come out like that. Hey! There's this one time that Ryou went to jail that's always making me think about you, okay?" "Hanzo," Kiba chuckled, leaning down to give his friend a strong kiss. "And oh, we didn't end up falling in love." "Oh, we might have, but the special secret I have on you right now… Hahahaha! Don't worry, I've always been curious about your cock. You look pretty good and hard, Kiba. I'd never stopped to consider the idea, until now. Here's my suggestion, suck me off. It'd be a great reward for being a good boy. And now that I finally got some cock, I'm gonna make sure that you know that when you do it, you'll know exactly how much it means to me." He pouted when he saw Hanzo's flushed face, his pupils blown wide and lips swollen red. "Don't you have something better to do?" Hanzo gave Kiba a dirty look before giving him a light kiss on the lips. "What's your point? Why not stick your hand right up my ass?" "Because it's hot. You smell amazing and you can't have bad timing!" His hand snaked up and his index finger traced the line of his bottom lip and left a cute bruise on his skin. "Ha, that's all bullshit." "Oh no, it's not! I did it to do with just an inch and a half. And I didn't walk in on a group sex session on the roof! Who's gonna come and find me? Not Ogami and I!" "Why do you love me anyway, huhUsing high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context The other bit of news was more melancholy. Hiccup was a year younger than Hiccup and wanted the same thing - an adventure, that could take him to places he hadn't been before. But, unfortunately, he'd never been much for shopping, and from what Viggo had told him and my guess was, he wasn't any better with a pen than he was with words. Which meant, if he got picked up, it would be *fortunate* for both their sakes. That same fate took away almost as many victories. "The sagest moose you've ever seen," came Eric's voice from his side of the table as soon as the timer on the billy popped back up, and Viggo held up a hand to warn him. The boys played with it briefly before wiping off their hands and moving on, only meeting Eric's stare in time to see he'd paused to point, in short fashion, at the small road between our cars, and started to back his car up before moving to the line for the bathroom. "Eric doesn't like moose," Viggo said quietly, but loudly enough for both he and Eric to hear. Eric moved a little closer, though still barely a foot apart, and started to wave his hand back and forth in a 'shoot first, ask questions later' kind of motion. "That's not true," Eric protested hotly. "We've done to moose that next door to our house. And we've seen bigger ones. Think you'd like that?" He came over and stood in front of us, though still too far to get into any physical contact with us. His eyebrows narrowed a little in their sharp angles. "But I'm not gonna knock that deep until it's your turn." "Me? I thought we were playing volleyball together this entire drive." "Mmm, I'm going to assume you're going with me on a trip that you know is destined to be a total disaster. You thought you had something *different *on the mind, right?" I felt my shoulders drop as I nodded my answer. "So why are we really even getting that early lunch now? Come on, if it was this easy, everyone would've had it handed to them by now!" My face scrunched up as I thought of all the air-drops and briefings and empty rooms that had passed me by so far, but instead let the disappointment for other people sink in. There was nothing like sitting through a four-hour briefing to remind you just how lucky you were being alive. I sighed. "I don't know," I admitted, shaking my head at my decision. "The last time we talked about this, the options we discussed were, um, deep fried worm rings and rabbit burgers. That and beef skewers. And then we were just really left hanging for a while." "Yeah," Eric grunted as he sat down next to me. I didn't have to read his expression to know his curiosity didn't go anywhere close to being satisfied. His gaze searched mine for a moment before narrowing it into an irked expression, but I was quick to respond by offering, "Yeah. There's a two-story building right across the street. It has a sign on the front window indicating its sub-minimum wage and minimum hourly wage." "Oh yeah?" He sighed heavily. "Like our old neighbor from down the street, huh?" I gave him an awkward look, hoping he was watching, but he seemed mostly intent on having the conversation as quietly and intently as possible. It was beginning to look like we were both beyond the point of mild sarcasm when I looked back up and saw him tilting his head in answer. "Got a problem with that? Like, not with paying people low wages?" "Yeah. I don't know, man. It's just that most places that serve food and coffee don't offer anyone with kids lunch. The restaurants serve 'fancy' things like cinnamon rolls or the like," Eric said slowly. "The houses are farther out, and they never seem to put out proper meals. Maybe not anymore, I don't think, but..." He shook his head. "I don't know. I mean, I know about halfway through the internet, they moved up towards shoreline." I frowned. "Where?" Eric shook his head again, this time looking confused. "Like, they don't put anything on the sign saying that. Nothing, it's just a block from here." He looked at me, "Do you think that should be one of the requirements for entry, like not being pregnant, having allergies, lactose intolerance, blood that isn't yours, etcetera?" "Um...maybe," I said. "Unless there's something special about the neighborhood, I'm not sure I can think of any where a child could stay a week that doesn't suck." "Well, I don't care how close to the house someone lives if they just eat and work in the evening, and make no mention to your client that they're seeing a little kid?" "So they can talk about sandwiches, cake, ice cream, anything. No perks?" I frowned. "What, you're on the dogpile that says money makes the world go round?" "No, I'll take cash tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, on the dotted line, then, don't think too much about it," Eric said warily. "I think there'll be some happy days in the future." "Is that what you want? 'And then, don't think about it'?" I smiled at him, a little amused. "Because, I *think *you want to know if any of your children will make you regret ever having existed as a human being? Not a day, not a moment, but yesterday. Everything can be taken away, especially if you're too poor to afford and love your children." I tried to push my point, trying to keep my voice down, and maybe even amused myself when it got a surprised, low whistle. "First of all, I don't know what to say to that," Eric said, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Secondly, having kids doesn't just throw my family into utter destitution, no matter how often I hear somebody talking about it. First of all, you made it very clear that there are many, many of us out here. So don't care too much." He looked at me, his eyes watery. "But what if your children don't want to do this? What if you care more about friends and family, than things like being hungry or possibly failing their elementary school test, or being forced into military service out of fear for their lives?" He nodded at me. "Do you have any option aside from the kid's shit burger buying job? There's the only option there you chose?" I bit my lip. "Diving into a freaking vat full of cow shit with bare hands?" He nodded again. "Of course there is. Why the hell not?" I watched the wheels grinding in his brain for a few seconds. "I'm going to give you a tour," I said. "I'm interested in figuring out if you think maybe that's not all bad." "Sure." "You know, I know you're too busy with a grown dog, but can you ask me to stand and watch you do some work for a couple of hours? Of course you can!" I grinned, but the corners of his mouth had turned up in response. He smiled, and there was a little bit of crooked smile to it that I could see made the corners of his mouth turn up. "Is that some new chain of restaurants?" He asked as we walked. "Oh. And you're going to pay me?" "Can I pay you?" I asked with a wry smirk. "How much did you just pay me?" "Yeah." I gave him an appraisal. "The 'softest shoes' may have to come off soon, Cadet." He sat back on the steps, leaned over his binoculars, and waited for me to climb up on the roof and help him look around. "I always knew I would." He reached out a hand and let me catch hold of his fingers. "Thanks, E." He leaned a little in my direction, half of his body about three feet away from me. I flicked my left thumb at him, and he instantly straightened his stance. "Got this," he said in almost a sneer. "I know," I mumbled. "Not gonna lie. I doubt there's going to be any expensive job." He opened the door, and started jiggling the windows with one hand. "Let's start with the security doors. You've heard of those by now?" "None," I grumbled. "That's not the point, though." He dropped the binoculars on the dirt road, and swept his gaze over the cracked windows. "I live in Los Angeles. What more reason do I need to know the secret to breaking glass, than living in this cesspool of humanity?" "For once," I said dryly. "This is L.A. I may have never known my own bathroom walls were so weak, but I have heard enough about LA to know that once it starts raining, there's a reason nobody stays out late." "So, what, you're about to haul me out to my little secret closet and run me through a psych test? How much stronger than crap does it make you think this is going to break in half? That you could leave right now? Because I can't." "Uh-huh. You don't look very convincing in it. So, if you want this job, and I can do this without falling to pieces on the side of the road, you gotta convince me that we can get this job done." He shrugged. "Nuh uh. You're too smart to do it to yourself." "Don't sweat it, this is a competitive world, Eric. Think of your future." "Good," he said, dropping his binoculars on the ground. "Yeah. Fine. Do you think I can figure out a way to read that paper-track mark up in front of me?" "Who says you can?" "Are you worried I can't?" He tilted his head towards me. "A little...But then, why wouldn't I assume you're good enough?" I paused for a moment. "Hey, Eric...I want to help. I'm serious about this. Seriously. Let me do this for real. This isn't just something I'm gonna be pulling out of my ass." "Not for real? You mean this. Your secret measure of human worth, and thus of humanity's worth?" "Yes. Well, you do us both a favor, by doing this. Let me go outside, and help you analyze your fucking floor plans." He turned around with a determined expression. "And I am concerned that I'm going to fall on my ass if I can't manage to pull this trick off before you do that thing with your eyes." "What a tough guy you are, Cadet," he snarked. I found myself frowning slightly, because he was staring me down like he was doing for the first time. I dropped the handkerchief I was holding. I actually had a lot of respect for this guy. A little. I was really grateful that he was so willing to put himself at risk in order to do this. "You do realize that you're going to get attacked, right? You'd better not let me take my eyes off you. And I bet if you weren't here, it'd be impossible to get another glimpse." He shoved the bag into my hands. "Get ready to move, Cadet." "Duly noted." "As you say, well-trained as you are, I didn't want to attack you when you're so easily distracted. And I sure hope I didn't get anyone in here confused between sight and smell or touch. I mean, the blind kid in here says it's true, right? Something smells really good! Wouldn't be surprised if there's a keg down below?" I threw him the same look I always gave people who got a particularly hard look or two. "What do you expect me to believe, isn't it just smoke-and-mirrors theory of 'who knows best'. There are only so many ways of taking a guess at my safety." He shook his head. "Look, you gotta do the honors, and me trying to wave in the wind wasn't a very good example to follow." "E...Eric, we have work to do, not being slaves to our hormones." "I know. Good move, guys. Give it one more try." I smiled at him. "It'll take more than a suit on to get me through this part. Speaking of giving it a try, these guys think it might be important, so it's probably fair game to see." "Get it?" He peered at the bag, almost like he was calculating odds. "Let's just say I can find out more about you than this guy can. Maybe you'll catch on sooner or later, eh?" I was nearly giddy. This guy...it was so much fun to see him. "Right. Next question." I sniffed the bag. "Do you know how to turn on a light, still? Is there a built-in timer?" "Guess. Probably. But that doesn't count as a yes. Okay, I guess." He patted himself down, including his shoes, then peeled back his shirt, revealing the slender shape of his abdomen. "Right." Then, swiping one finger under the silk shirt and attaching the tip of his finger to the zipper of his jeans, he opened the garment panel on the zipper, tearing off a portion to reveal another section where the zipper raised, exposing two thin muscle fibers, a pale tube of skin sitting between them. "Cadet, did you not tell me you already smelled good? Eh, too bad." The light bulb lit behind his eyes, making me jolt. "That's from my asshole on your shoulders. Turn off the light." "Yeah. I gotta say, I know you like the smell of some cock. Not sure you're in my right mind to be opening that place, but...uh, turns out, it smells weird, but good. Let's get this bag over to the dark one." "Aw, you're gonna have trouble with it." I rubbed the silk bag. "That pretty boy won't be much help." "You're not the best threat, kid. Now let's get this bitch nice and warm on the bench while I call in the taxi for the shit he needs." He banged on the door. "Harken?" "On it." I heard the background sound of running water. He had gotten me by the apartment while I was waiting on him. A little bit of giving him the benefit of the doubt, but I suppose I had a point. "If that dirty smell hasn't got you boners, then so do we. Just remember...without heat, your ass won't be getting any of the cum." /chapter content Chapter 6 --------- Chapter Notes > But not here, because .../a/ can wait until later. I'm posting this instead. Gonna just post it early on Monday afternoon when all the comments are gone. > > chapter content "It's hotter outside than you think, boy," he grunted. "You don't know that, Valor. Look, this is it, and I don't care how many other guys I can come across. We ain't into each other, not with this crap going on. Once you fuckin' pull a fuckin' joke on me, I will kick your ass straight outta here." "I am sorry." "You don't owe me anything." "You are not an idiot, boy. I've been looking for a man like that since I was sixteen." "Well, he's gone." He growled, forcing me to drop my jaw. "But I'm not done with you yet. I could kick your ass on top of everything else. Is there no way of letting me go? After all, ain't ya' sure of yourself, boy?" "Well, yeah." He closed the gap. "Great. Will ya' try to remember what I say, boy, orUsing high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context "So you want to watch a movie, but you don't really know what to expect?" "I'm used to finding low-budget films for laughs, so it makes sense. I'm watching *Life of Pi*. You? I guess if I'm being honest I expected something more—and it's actually quite good." "You're spoiling yourself. So what do you think, is this going to work, or are you just going to drown in jealousy? *Spoilsport.*" Ushijima shrugs. *Then why did you care enough to ask me?* "I figured if it wasn't better than *my* favourite movies, I'd give it a try. Are we agreeing on something, Yachi?" Ushijima is looking between the two with a gleam in his eyes. "That depends," Yachi says, her brow furrowed. "If you haven't already watched *Life of Pi*, no. But I'll be happy to rent it, as long as it's yours." Ushijima blinks at Yachi's close proximity, her hand a light press against his arm. "Why are you holding my arm like that?" He puts on a smile, her softness stopping him from answering. "You like it?" Yachi peeks up at him. Ushijima looks away, his eyebrows arched slightly. "Just barely. It's not good." Ushijima sags, nodding slowly. "Then I'm glad we came to an agreement." A small, amused laugh escapes Yachi before she quickly shakes her head and continues talking, watching her master with a critical eye. "Just know I don't feel this way towards you if you give up on this film after even seeing it once. Of course you wouldn't understand." "I suppose not," he agrees. "Thank you for letting me rent this for you, by the way." "Of course," she agrees, twirling around him in the lab coat to pat his leg. "I know you haven't seen a negative movie in ages. Take my word for it." Ushijima returns to sitting on the couch while Yachi holds the whiteboard she's been using for outlining, eventually drifting off to sleep after an earlier movie or two. She stays close to him every now and then to try to remind him that something is so right about his world that he can't possibly fully comprehend it himself. It's almost as though all of their problems stem from the same place, only with differences and differences that might just define themselves as different problems in a given situation, rather than overwhelming differences that would rival any rivals in depth. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_Using high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context He briefly looked down at his own side before looking back at her with a sigh. "Look, Chloe, I wanted to tell you earlier but then it got so complicated that there was nowhere to be found. Look, I know you were really busy with trying to be something other than what you are, and by the sounds of things you've made it pretty darn hard, but let me make it really clear, we don't have to get to know each other or anything." "I want to know." "Then tell me that you want to know, and we'll go from there. This may be more for your benefit than mine." "I like you," she whispered, her voice still raw and guarded from the last few days. "And now you're saying I shouldn't even be here?" "What do you need me to say, Johnny?" "I like you." His eyes were unreadable, and somehow she felt almost as if he'd lost his last shred of control over himself. "Chloe!" "You're right, I'm not going anywhere. Just wanna… talk to you a little." She could feel his eyes on her face, and she'd probably have shuddered by now if she wasn't so distracted. "If you really don't want to, Johnny," he said in that somehow much lower tone of voice, one that told her he was only too aware of the awkwardness of any 'coming out' moment happening. "I understand completely." "Okay, I guess…" She bit her lip, wondering what to say next. "Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow night, right? We'll chat, you tell me how much you know about me," she tried to start. He shook his head. "No, sorry, I just… guess I got kinda too wrapped up in yourself when I wasn't paying attention to what you were saying." "That's okay. Here. Take my seat. See you soon." She could see he was feeling his cheeks heat and swallow up whatever bit of honesty he was about to drop. It left a nice little comedown from earlier as well. He walked into the kitchen and smiled down at her with one huge kiss. "Don't stay here all night, unless you have to." "Why not? You and I already got so close, Johnny." "Me? Me?" She squinted back at him, still a bit coldly. "You've always been a handful, and I'm too damn happy to ever leave you alone," he scoffed, and before she could think to stop him he began shoving a glass of water up to her with one hand. "Pairing up with you." "What? What are you talking about?" She tugged at him, questioning. "We're gonna take each other to bed together," he whispered into her ear, another solid embrace, her body still pressed up against his. "Just so you know." She pecked him on the lips before turning away from him, watching him start cooking dinner. "He wouldn't want me anywhere near him. Hell, if I saw him again I'd tell him I used to love his ass." "Wait, you love my ass?" She laughed. "Heesh, Johnny I think the guy's trying way too hard to get all macho with me." He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the kitchen. "I don't think they've changed the rules since we were kids." "Johnny!" She said as she tucked her chin into his chest. "Be serious. Let's not forget I was once a girl." "I know. Same is true of you, Chloe. I'm just taking these claims of love from you seriously." She let herself relax into his body just long enough to savor the feeling of his lips trailing across her hair before his hands quickly worked around to slide between her ass and down to her waist, though she quickly jolted as he nudged her against the counter. "Don't move, Johnny." "Chloe," he warned her in her ear, which only set her on edge a little more. "Get used to it." "I'm telling you," she hissed. "I know that, and that's the whole point, I don't care if you like it or not." Her brow furrowed. "Do you love me too?" She smiled as he leaned down for another kiss. "I thought so." A hot flush passed over his face. "Hell yes, you're better than this." She planted a kiss on his jaw before pressing herself back into his crotch. "Damn right I am. But next time, give me an ultimatum first. Talk to me or let me get back to what I do best." "I don't know," he responded as if it were a simple proposition. "You've had your finger in me since I was eleven, didn't you, Johnny?" "Holy shit. And look where that got me," she teased. "Okay, maybe I have to go check on them again later tonight." --- It took a couple of years, but Chloe knew she'd finally found a man who would appreciate her enough to send her letters over the years about why she never should have to ever take off her clothes while he ate his favorite foods and worked on his hair. She thought it was cool to have them both telling her to be proud of her for the good she was doing, but she was more concerned with what she was doing. And the good she was doing, oh god, did she have a problem. She was a case manager at ERDC-KOS within it's walls, the small volunteer department whose sole purpose was to help female employees and workers who have suffered from sexual assault or abuse-and she'd just got on the phone with the VP of HR for another case, so all good stuff in and action was on the side of preserving them for their recovery. But still, she couldn't shake the sense of dread that always accompanied every call she made about those cases. She was sure it had something to do with Charlie being alive and healthy and so if there was ever a case of an employee saying she'd never been sexually assaulted, they'd say she hadn't been because Charlie had already been through all of that and he would've been there and she'd know to trust his word and risk others giving her more cause for hope. Actually, being on the phone was almost as terrifying as the work itself and it often kept her from posting good-ass stuff or putting out any updates. She mostly just sent calls to someone named Becky, for obvious reasons. Fuck if she could figure out what this man who saw her at work as more than a sandwich made her wish he'd gone further and left her off duty for an entire night. But then she remembered how nice Charlie looked when he was with her in the parking lot when no one else thought she should. She felt so safe with him, no matter what anyone else said. Not even the person who came in to see her just a few months ago while under the guise of 'bringing her lunch.' They still put a little pride in her and she appreciated it. So she kept the passion she felt for the job in check, fought that slight nagging fear of the other agents and DCPD officers who knew Charlie; she tried to look for their memo with them and if anyone was up for a discussion, right down to the girl who would try to point out the mole in every human skin that wanted to quit; just so they wouldn't seem like, well, fan girls, so she kept moving forward. --- "Alright everyone, follow me." All eyes were trained on the wide-eyed manager who, sure, felt like shit all the time, but he was alive, not dead like Charlie (whom he was happily married to and loved dearly) was, but alive for reasons he couldn't understand. Walking to the opposite side of the room he knew not a soul had listened to him come down the stairs. The almost near silence was almost painful. Finally someone raised their hand. The idea that someone would listen to his request as though he was fucking Snow White or some fucked up mash-up of women burned through him and with his scarred and oddly wise expression as he glared at the PA (whose name was Kate Graham) he cocked a brow at her. She smiled. "Excuse me, sir. I don't think that's a problem-" He gestured her to follow him across the room to where he sat with his hands propped on his knees, placed below the computer screen he had in front of him. There was more than one person staring at him when he rolled his eyes in frustration. One guy did so purposely and took three steps back before resuming his walk. "What?" He asked and just turned to glare at him. "I said what?" He couldn't believe he heard himself speak aloud, so obviously he was failing. "I asked if you could give me your day off. I need to report to my interview today and I need it to happen." His irritation returned, but soon his very professional voice came out. "You're working here, Captain. I get shit by everybody in this damn place." "Oh really?" His smirk returned along with his voice, almost cutting the bitch's bitch out of his skin and immediately activating his Blue from every hero's system. "What happened?" He replied for her sake. "You were wrong about him being dead-" Kate sighed and bit back a comment at his look, but without the slightest hint of affection. "One minute he's passed out on the floor, and now the last twelve of us went and called and paid another person up to get involved in the process. Thank you so much. You've shown your complete disregard for his welfare, captain." His stomach dropped as he began to realize she wasn't entirely kidding about it. And yet he dared look away as he spoke for the first time, taking a deep breath in the knowledge that the other agents would learn of his actions and would be inclined to thank her for it. "I…you didn't tell us…" He found himself picking his words carefully, tilting his head to look around at everyone. "What do you mean you weren't told he was dead?" Kate finally smirked when they all looked at her in disbelief. "Okay, so he's gone before, but you guys only knew that because he told us. At the meeting yesterday." He frowned at her. "Why did he tell you?" Kate reached over to take his jacket to the front of his dress shirt before sighing in disappointment. "That's simple; he died. He's dead, Charlie fucking Baldwin, killed in action," she looked at him with disgust and disapproval. "And I know that's kinda stupid and he would want you to tell us, I just-" She sighed. "And you were all busy all this time I think he was working too." She jabbed him lightly with the elbow with the tip of her perfect black ring finger. "And I don't see how we can help, he's dead and there is nothing that I can do." Charlie glared at her and saw that there was no way he was going to be able to convince her that it was an error on his part, she wasn't going to drop everything to drop her argument in favor of wanting him to shut up and do what she wanted, which was basically everything. "Just say what she said about his death and please, then, return to your own duties." Charlie bit back, angry and wanting to have his say in a different tone than when she gave her silent, resigned response, just as he wanted to at least begin to think things through more fully. Kate frowned. "But, Captain," she scolded him, waiting. "The President's offered assistance." She watched him in shock. "Charlie." The words caught him by surprise and the bite he intended to plant was uncharacteristic of him. Charlie cleared his throat. "Sorry," he let out a soft sigh, trying to conceal his cheeks with his hands. "I didn't mean to put you guys on the spot, but…it's best for both of us if I ask you to make the announcement, right?" Kate swallowed hard. "We aren't here for drama or news or anything like that. We're here to-" Her mind went through two potential scenarios, the one that she was more familiar with and used to dealing with and the one she wasn't. "Do you know that the Presidential Directive is not to encourage public officials to intervene in private matters like this?" The first thing that popped into her head was what every woman who thought about life as a junior officer would think, especially after a period of twenty-eight years and four months. Charlie nodded. "Yeah, okay. So, what about the Presidential Directive? I thought it was fucking badass because the Chief would get involved in other people's lives if they *needed* it." He answered before he could stop himself. "The President gets involved in private matters all the time. And we haven't done anything, but we don't need to if you're worried, either." She shrugged noncommittally, sitting down at the dining table to take a seat at the coffee table in the center of the room and watching him with narrowed eyes, mentally preparing herself. He just shrugged, cutting her off. "Yes, so do I." He shifted his gaze towards the officers occupying the living area, smiling at the orders given to the people who would be most affected. "Fine." Charlie sat back in his seat and rubbed the back of his neck after clearing his throat. "I'll go by these things that I read in my fucking employee handbook. Oh and may you know that my supervisor will not make any decisions about what I do based upon any hypothetical circumstance involving me, my relationship with my girlfriend, my job, or any other personal activity that I might wish to partake in, or any other personal behavior, outside of my designated duty hours. I just…" He sniffed audibly. "Please tell me I have to get everyone involved in order to get this announcement out?" "Oh fuck, not me," She gritted her teeth together with resolve to get to the topic that had been set off since they first arrived. "That's not what I meant, Charlie." He nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. "Okay." She thought she could gather him around a vague belief, hoping that he would at least be on board with it after his initial reaction. /chapter content Chapter End Notes > Lots of full chapter content! > > Enjoy the happy ending! > > Tags: foreshadowing, michigan, relationship discussion, human, strong female character > > Well now I know I'm crying! lol > > And the secondary theme will come on Sunday, Monday, and Wednesday this week because I'm still getting up in time (finally) but hopefully I'll get this part out tonight. > > See ya! > > A/N: Promise was in favor of solo to mark Charlie's role, mostly because I always have this feeling that I should mention that I wrote it to be used as a power play, btw...so...before anyone gives me hate and sorta flips off because I think I're saying shit that isn't true to how he might act and if any of this is inaccurate I want you to know that it's completely completely NOT from me. Also I know this is fiction and the two have been consistently sorta avoiding each other and I'm totally not trying to place any sorta expectation that he'd ever view her as something other than a friend, or anything. > > Seriously, in the longest time I've ever been so grateful and honored for such wonderful luck. > > Female Male Anal Seduction ------------------------------ Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes9) chapter content **FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS** - For context, what is kink aUsing high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context "No, but we can call a doctor and get you checked out." That made Jason's teeth hurt. Who the hell did he think he was? "If it's been four years, you should have your shit sorted, just to make sure you're not trying to get myself or any of the people around you killed." "Do you know anything about gang stuff?" Jason frowned at him. "Oh my god, I've been reading way too many 'real life' films and TV shows, but that doesn't mean I know nothing about it." Jason did know something, they were going over the history of New York. "So are you telling me that you know, like, the s*** about that guy David Spade? And before that girl Marissa?" "The s*** I know, Jason. Honestly, I haven't thought that much about it all, but..." This time it was Jason who chuckled to himself. "Jason, what are you talking about? I'd have thought, if anything, you'd be way more focused on just how I fit in to this whole plan and how I fit in to everyone's lives and whatnot." "You're gonna need to learn how to communicate some day, Sean. Some shit, I promise, you just gotta hold your b**** longer when you talk to him." Jason could feel Sean's claws coming out, had they really just eavesdropped. A cool hand was placed on his knee, pulling him towards him and making Jason lift his butt up a little so that their chins were nearly touching. Jason was *definitely* not having that, thank you very much. "So then, huh? After four years in here, why aren't you like *upset*?" It was an excellent question, one that felt so right, yet also easy to answer. "My mom and dad don't go on about that much because I'm way too young to even get into it. They don't seem to know it's bad either. So if you wanna, it's cool, we just want you to be safe." This actually made Jason feel a little better, sort of. "Thanks, Sean. So, uh, how old is the girl?" "She's like 16," Sean explained. "She's so cute. She looks almost like you." Jason giggled. "That's good." "And she just visited me earlier today and did that weird stuff with her nails. Suck my finger, that's funny. She's kind of the opposite of you, Jason." "Her bad taste is something you have to deal with." "Is it, er, sexual?" "No. She just wants you to fuck her too." Jason laughed at that. "Great, let me pull her number. I'll send you the address so I can ring her and tell her you've got a date for dinner." "Oh! Okay. Great, I'm gonna fill up the rest of my homework for tomorrow, then see you then, Jason." Sean hung up without another word, sitting in Jason's kitchen, causing him to groan in annoyance. "Crap." By the time Sean pulled his phone out of his pants pocket and made a show of saying, 'Hi,' with his teeth, Jason found himself wishing he hadn't told Sean, in case his friend kept it from him. It really wasn't anything amazing, as far as stupid romantic entanglements went, Jason was pretty sure he and Connie were in the middle of a long overdue one. The only difference was that Sean was set on picking the next girl, which did not bode well, in Jason's opinion. Now...at least there was one person who didn't come close to being so obvious. It wasn't like Sean knew of Jason's feelings, at least not yet. If Sean *really* saw his friend as the end point of any relationship, and he took seriously his feelings for Jason, the tendency to slip into casual humor would almost certainly result. "Are you sure this is okay?" He didn't feel that comfortable bringing up his feelings in front of Jason. They needed to have some time together before all the awkwardness came. "Because, Jason." "Come on, Sean. Let me finish my studies. I'll be fine." He rolled out of bed with that sickly sweet smile still plastered on his face. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_Using high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context "You know. It might be all a little bollocks and a couple of ex-nobles but she gets a hair one now she's famous. If anything –" He gets there before Remus can tell him to shut up. "You were asking after Tina's friends, didn't you?" Remus shrugs in answer. "Yes, they have been looking for her – who would have thought her random reply to *Lemon did actually mean* *she is on board. But I guess it wasn't too surprising – Arthur's put out a pretty large wager on her just now." **(3 years later)** Harry's lying on the hospital bed, woken by his mother's ringtone. "Ah, goodness." She smiles at him and then drops the phone to her side. "I thought you might like it – *Still*? You're going to miss this though, it's only a few weeks, you're supposed to get back to work this month." She pats his cheek. "I still think we should get married, though," she adds. Harry frowns at her. "No, thanks." **(4 years later)** Harry's lying on his bed, listening to the doorbell. "Oh, how nice of your mates to start calling me *Sir*." **(5 years later)** Harry's lying in a hallway. The call is quite sweet – no fair, even now he hates being called by *that* manner. He'll never forget the original receiver of the text message, of course – that bitch who spoke so fondly of him just last year – Draco. "Harry!" Harry groans under his breath. "Hey, Harry!" "What do you want?" "Draco, *please*. Since you can't come to Christmas, I'm hoping you'd rather help us out this year, and you're bound to be as generous as usual." "How?" Harry says. "Well, before you say *no*, you'd better know one thing: *I* will come. No quibbles about *reasonable accommodation*, or anything else like that. If I want it, I'll have it." Harry grins at him. "And *if *you want it, well you know what the rules are. Be my guest, but *don't go cutting in line when someone else is already getting it bad." Harry tilts his head back. "Now, with all due respect, he doesn't appear interested either. I didn't think I'd ever get these beds again – geez, there's no sign of Arthur or Bellatrix." **(6 years later)** Harry's lying on his bed. "Lily," he calls. "Yeah?" **(7 years later)** Harry's lying on his bed. "Hello, Harry. My friend was looking for you." Harry doesn't reply; he's still rather too agitated for his own good. "You know," Harry says quietly, "she's not going to believe me. Not until I swear it's true." Harry's an eloquent liar, and he knows it. "She's just trying to give you a heads up. She thought I should warn you anyway." Harry's smiling to himself but he's not sure how well he can keep it up. "*Are you upset,*" Harry finishes. "I don't really see why we should get involved with a gang of thugs. Didn't they do their time? I don't think you need to worry." Harry puts his finger to his mouth and then holds it there, breathing out, waiting for the inevitable retort. "Listen, Harry. I like you; it's not like I don't. But I have to get back to work and I'll take care of it myself. For now, you're free to fuck off and find your boyfriend if you want, but I'm not to be forced to sit here until I retire any time soon." Harry gazes at him, stunned – who would have thought so in the first place? Harry's always taken to Lily's humour – well, she can see things in a man's eyes and that fact almost makes up for not putting up with him for long. "And *if *you can't manage to get back in touch with me, I'll handle it myself." Harry turns around, only to find Albus… staring. "Thank you." Harry and he think at the same time, wondering why the fuck he agreed to be snooped on in the first place. "Yeah." **(8 years later)** Harry's lying in a hospital ward with a head wound, surrounded by the sights and smells of patients barely old enough to remember who he was. Remus had pulled him in a small closet after Dumbledore had been taken to be healed – it wasn't cold for more than a day before Lily brought a blanket over and Remus knew that he was going to be honest. "Of course." Harry sits cross-legged on the hospital bed, still dressed in his hospital gown, but looking forward to only getting through the night when they had a group to attend to, and there was nobody to watch over him and his recovery – or more specifically, it's facile recovery – through his dreary three-year layoff. "We must not forget who we are." Harry doesn't like it when people refer to him that way – but he thinks he does and he hates it. "At least some of us are getting stronger every day." Harry lifts his legs and braces himself on the bed as much as he can to try and reach for the sight of his best friends face – the thing in the corner of his eyes more than used to draw him comfort. Even now, Harry only sees the people who love him – and they won't stop. "And who are you?" Harry doesn't like it when people call him by his given name. He hates it when people give him cloying second names because they trust him with so much – and he absolutely does not let anybody – not even Dumbledore – have any rights to give him false first names that really don't mean much to him. "Harry Potter," Harry nods stiffly. "Does it hurt?" "It did at the beginning," Harry bites his lip and flinches as pain registers on his forehead. He should be healing in pain, rather than it throbbing up to his temples and down his back. It hurts less every day, and less the longer he's awake. By the time the sun rises, it should be as bad as someone having a jinx, but nothing lasts longer than seven days of constant agony for him – even he keeps the painkiller in that box of his where he keeps his potions ingredients – but the pain dulls the very day he's back to the King's Cross station and wants to get back to work before it goes completely crazy again. "When will I be going to London?" Harry should feel fine all of a sudden, and he's nowhere near dead; he's too tired to handle this in a particularly supportive manner. This is definitely not what he had signed up for in the first place. "Soon." **(8 years later)** Harry's sitting alone at the kitchen table, cauldron sitting by the hob and silent quill by his side. But it isn't how Harry imagined a week or two ago that his Crookshanks would be roosting beside him on a Saturday morning; instead, he feels fine. He feels vulnerable, and hurt, and a lot better – somehow, magically at least – than he's felt in a long, long time. He'd forgotten just how much of a pain in the ass he could be with that chin curled up in his lap and considering he'd read and read about the particular position it's occupied, he wasn't surprised to find the position itself made a mockery of the treatment and taught him his rudest lessons about contempt for authority and proper decorum. He'd thought – or maybe he'd hoped that it was when he'd found out that his boyfriends were dating the whore he'd threatened to turn over – that they wouldn't kill each other after seeing it from a different angle – a reverse they'd never seen. But maybe he overestimated the love-hate relationship that the two had fallen into on their way to forming their two men in their own image. The kiss Harry tried to press for that day was stilted and passive, the one he hoped to continue a few weeks later while he was attempting to negotiate a contract for a job that Harry thought would really take his mind off this and that whole "I'm terrified of seeing you like this" thing – but was quickly dissuaded by an explosive headbutt and kicking the wooden table next to them so hard that it actually split it in two. And that's about it really. There's been no fights, no physical abuse, no death threats of Snape, and certainly nothing to this point that Harry felt a desire to jump down a fucking black hole. And after six weeks at the Kings Cross train station – against a backdrop of particular rainfall and that damned carriage platform without Ron's help and Harry's relief – there's a terrible sense that there's not going to be any more awkwardness between them. They were quite happy for once not to miss each other, and Harry is absolutely positive he's going to tell Ron he doesn't hate him for leaving. There's already a definite ease in their interactions since that incident – it has nothing to do with him. It wasn't supposed to be like this. "I am..." Harry tries for a dramatic stage whisper but finds that he can't play 'blind' with James, who rolls his eyes – but gives Harry more than his customary glare. His expression says, This is no small matter. "I am in my bed, giving him back that curse, and he might be mouthing off to me, because he should be getting at least that much understanding of that when he asked him to leave." "You hate me," James says smugly. "Just as much as your brother hates me – and more." Harry's finally fished out a key and unlocked the entrance to his hut, which looks out over the Ministry and the rest of the Wizarding world. "He's trying to please you." Harry should have expected James would be pissed, but actually the expression on James' face makes him look uncharacteristically kind. "The Mudblood's always up for taking advantage of my laziness. So, as your new husband, I'm granting him his wish." Harry laughs. "I suppose we'll see. Perhaps in another life, I might have been able to protect you from the man that threatened to murder me. He has plenty of help at the moment. I'm quite sure if he'd gotten a death threat from him he'd have hexed him into something unspeakable." "Or what? Keep him restrained until he could be turned into the family pet of Draco's by Severus?" James has taken one look at Harry and has simply assumed it. "If I'm in control of Harry's wand, there won't be anything left for you." Harry can't make himself care. "Perhaps they'll come up with something instead, Mudblood." James knows the outcome – this current break up was inevitable given the circumstances and if there's one thing Harry hates most in this world, it's being ignored by a person. "Never heard of Regulus. Even when I managed to be worth his time back in Hogwarts, he chose Dark Wizards as his victims." "Even when I was ready to throw myself at my very dark master's feet." Harry chokes on a laugh. "Oh don't act all high and mighty, mate, I might have gone for the Dark Lord if he didn't go for me." "Well, at least you had the balls to say that he didn't know how he came to his decision." "Maybe so, but remember, I am the Dark Lord, you must be bound by that oath. I win no matter what I do or how I do it." "My brother and I have both become bound to your promises." James has a sour look on his face – which even now he wants to shrug off – but is reluctant to give in. "We know that to walk away now would be difficult. But you would be doing us a favour, and an injustice to your father's name." Harry sighs. "This could have ended well, Mudblood." He leans forward to set Harry on the floor, but is interrupted by the sound of a chime signalling the arrival of a curio cabinet. "Yeah, except for all the creepy, really old charm shit like this – sorry mate, we've run out," Harry tells him. "Good luck with Severus." Harry must know by now that Harry isn't all that confident of their progress on restoring the Muggle wardrobes – only a last minute fix and possibly just a handful of things to do – but this is likely the closest they've come to doing something useful so far. Once he reaches for the first piece of parchment, he hears James approach, making his way to his desk. "Some of the more ridiculous spells are surprisingly a lot easier to cast for me when I'm ready to go through twenty years of training than they were for them." "There's a spell that doesn't require a wand," Harry hears James mention before Harry turns around. "The True Loyalist spell, Imperius curse, Headmaster." "Have you ever had to memorize these incantations when there's more than one class?" Harry snorts. "There's no way you'd have to learn to spell, you bloody sap!" Harry jumps when he hears the door open. "But sure – you've been staying here since you got the job, so I figured maybe you'd want to play an active role." Harry moves cautiously toward the window to let them in, not wanting to give away his intention. He wanted to talk with his best mate about doing some good right now; he'd rather they could go talk to a troll than a Memory charm or the Imperius curse. James' a much better teacher than he is with spells when he wants to try them out, Harry has found. For some reason, that turns out to be useful later. /chapter content Chapter 18 ---------- chapter content It's dark, the night is cold, but James clearly needs to make a deal with some kind of creature on his desk and he takes it to James – after he's had a chance to work out the rules of the deal he has cut himself out of his office hours with the rest of the staff so that the rest of the night will be spent with the troll that will be swinging him across the room and splitting him open like he has done so many times. He works as quickly and fearlessly as he can manage – long since bored out of his mind and nearly delirious from frustration at being tricked twice this week into having to repeat classes. At the end of it, when he gets back to the office after Dumbledore congratulates him on getting the elves to switch their chores so that they can clear up his work enough for him to make any sense of his classes, Harry still can't figure out who's pulling James' strings. And then, at the end of what must be another day, the pure-blood seventh year who makes him endure the shapeless blobs of mould and hides all his notes so that he can review a completely new teaching assignment that was kept secret until after the others had found it out. It would make sense, because Voldemort always stays in his classroom with the rest of the staff and thanks to his superior status, his sole duty is to teach James – even in class – something useful so that he can gain the respect of his staff so that he won't get thrown out in the first three months, but then Harry learns that James is also the only teacher permitted to read out his lessons in the Healer's office, so for everyone else it's the third time that they've been known to be behind the scenes meddling as well. When he hands the books over to James at eleven o'clock in the morning – just fifteen minutes before his early next class, and just in time for him to start off the second period with everything immediately after breaking up for lunch, of course, as no other staff member is allowed access to keep up with James' lessons until he's *not* in session – and says, "Harry, I haven't read these for a bit yet, and you know I might have to fill in those books a few hours after the end of class on my own," he wishes he could say that the man smiles warmly and that he asks himUsing high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context <|endoftext|>MIDDLE EAST Thanos never forgets. —Captain America Venom begets a pregnant Universe. —Asgardian proverb Captain America never slept in bed. —Nova Prime Asgard had been around longer. —Nova Prime When one takes good care of themselves, they are bound for long lives, whoever comes after the rest of us will live on to surpass them. —Sir Isaac Newton While ther are conflicting accounts of the size and manner of Star-Lord's kingdom, it is said that the men of Asgard on every level in charge and working hands on with his former Guard don't even have to ask him for permission to be named the next head of the Great Council, with no variation as the kind or reverence.[7] It's also rumoured that the Supreme would prefer a Asgardian or ian heir over an alien[8], but thankfully for humanity, the Supreme is an imperious shit-stirrer for anyone who asks for advice, apparently the general opinions of Asgardians happen to align with those of the Supreme as well. There's also rumours about how the Æsir though, while nominally opposed to interbreeding, actually bicker at the same dinner table as the Aesir. Anyone, save perhaps god-kings such as the Supreme. —Age of Ultron: The Official Cinematic Trailer, 2010 Not-Captain America returned to his US hideout, much to the chagrin of Stark. —Captain America: Mission Loki, 2012 THE REPUBLIC OF THE UTHOR From its founding until 2077, the Grand Trilateral of Détente & Friendliness represented Earth and more than 60 other worlds in association with the United Nations. Until he lost in the elections, it was the most powerful group of powers on Earth, stretching from the Solar System and beyond. While it broke away a few years ago, their influence was acknowledged for a time by the US government, only to rejoin the Grand Trilateral. Before that, they controlled, at least directly, over most of the Mid-East, up until the present day. Their military's military involvement became too evident; after Independence and the end of the Cold War, they were made wholly independent of the United Nations, instead deploying their forces for the the War on Terror. They were formed based off of the Allied Planetary Defence Initiative, and still make most of their financial and political decisions with that line of thought in mind. This causes Captain America not only problems (because it sucks; see above), but also opportunities to fuck with them. When he doesn't, that's when they punish him. —Starlord, 2013 Cap could have sworn it was a *force*... [11] —Thor #101 Cap remembers being summoned by the Goddess. She asked about the future; to be given instructions. Cap laid out exactly what he wanted, letting her overrule the collective feelings of all who resided in his sector. Yet he understood why her voice and thoughts couldn't be even by his standards, but spoke just as confidently nonetheless. So who then was this Goddess, and why was it asking for the 'future?' Cap didn't know. All the "free forms" he gave her had either been vague or subject to interpretation and change to suit different goals or situations. For example, her own name was either an inebriated, lustful whine or something higher in strength…from Loki. Which was great, until a few more components were added to the equation. Especially since the 'higher' version of the Goddess usually needed more presents…and by 'additions' he meant 'beatings.' Cap didn't know if the Goddess had to force him to have sex with gods, or if she decided to do that herself whenever Loki asked nicely…but he figured 'both' were plausible choices since he'd had half his brain to waste after a week of little sleep. He couldn't blame Loki for going through all that, though. All the plans were coming true, except one…he was apparently going to have sex with an Asgardian, despite his nature and vow against it. Not only did Loki seem incredibly excited for the prospect, he and Cap appeared to have a mutual interest, but the Goddess could only decide on one thing and left it up to Cap, at least it seemed. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad. —Thor, Vol. 6 #25 The Avatar was not still, just as Jane would say. —Jane Foster Aquaman's gills were sharper than the usual oceanic creatures. —Batman and Robin Annual 2011 The Great Plaza of Metropolis and the city below opened over his escape from the Russian stronghold and its evil but blinded leader. He looked down, the floating air underneath him and glimmering crystals illuminating the rows and columns of buildings and abandoned streets. Then he'd zipped around in the shiny leathers and marduk-style fins of Mako diving gear. Flying, pushing off water without having any hands or external senses. Over the things he could see, the underwater and later very human locales of Africa, the incredible great lakes and the bustle of waterways around them and even across continents, glimmering from within or amongst the many sparkly glass spires of the National Mall; Seattle. The view cut the wind and rain into pieces, small rebellions occasionally blasting lightning along where the sea breached the ocean floor. With his eyes closed, unable to see…And ready to fight. It was a night. Just like any other, except that he remembered the waves this time. His water changing as he got a glimpse of things beyond and then rising again the next time. He was in the water-tank with Steve Trevor…and the moment when he realized there was no one looking back was when his water level dropped as low as his eel shape and taken a bottomless dive like an octopus! Steve and Diana discovered him as a shell in mid-flail! The tank started to shake, like any water tank which couldn't have floated, but cap had several perms in his right hand, and could bend in odd ways to keep it from rushing. As the tanks fizzled and leveled again, they could see him down below, possibly high in the air, gliding over the cracked shell of a real fish! —Walking Into the Fire #3 For another thing to remember, Cap had been sleeping at Atlantean Watchtower, which provided a very real view of the Giant Titan looming overhead with a water globe of Earth right in his path. Hearing he was leaving for Central Park gave pause…And it never made sense why he had been sleeping at a place where even the common man slept and bathed and took out every day. Yet he'd never seen more than the upper floors of the tower; and how was he supposed to tell if he was safe? Steve's leg would've exploded with his size alone. So when they split for work and found the first bats he'd always assumed they were warbler. But flying was yet another matter. Now here he was on an old Fort Thunder-type compound in Brooklyn and he was face to face with one of the deadliest vampires ever. The true heavy metal would be there soon enough but what drew the attention of this guy was his ability to fly and for a moment Cap didn't have time to deal with the fact that he could probably read an instant's notice of all the werebats in New York City just from where he stood. —Superman and the Threepers #12 Bruce insisted they get a family dog to go with Bruce. Although she wasn't much like a mongrel, her blood ran with the True Batman Inc. protocol, so he needed her in order to go down and save humanity in the next world. —Infinite Crisis Special Edition #8 When she heard her name rang, Cap turned his gazes skyward; the Bats came straight from out of the barrels, straight at him, their horns lit brighter than even the sun! Their buzzing might've scared him as well. 'Goddamn' he swore, and blew the last remaining scent from his goggles; threw them to the side. —Secret Origins #15 /chapter content Chapter End Notes > Based on the three memorable events for the "These Skaarf and Kid FREAK" alternate ending of the Batman Chronicles arc...basically this will bring everything full circle (leaving you for a moment with Barry getting his feel good ending but with Cap unknotting him for a fate worse than death!). Hope ya'll enjoy, and don't expect a real cliffhanger, 'cause 'rapers don't just evaporate! > > It Went Away -------------------- Chapter Summary > All eyes are on…Mark the first few chapters in your queue to an actual continuation of the Mark Cavendish story! > > Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes14) chapter content Any an anon who thinks I'm done with most of these that's by mistake! After all this stuff happens, I might as well move forward... > > Chapter 14 It had been eighteen hours since they'd started interrogating those leaders, and that was two more days of this nonstop sortie. People were dying while the bird masts spluttered. Poison seemed to be a really helpful tool…There was so much happening…like the Bat wing stayed up for an entire week until he finally broke and needed a break. It was his least favorite part of his job. Until that happens, you can't give up! > > Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes15) chapter content Of course the entire call wouldn't go as well as expected. By the time they reached the summit, the Bat wing was still up and spitting fire against the Titans who weren't paying attention. Steve had set up a camera in the Colossus-shadow (that was Captain America not Colossus) helmet in case something were to happen to him, so everyone thought everything was fine. Which was really fucking dangerous and mentally unhealthy because now you had all the Titans bearing arms and being really dense to fight and trouble. > > Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes16) chapter content 'This is really the strangest part…' he said, leaning into Nuke on his bunk that had, of course, been a spare room. He could feel Empowered lean in too. They had eaten three cups of a soup they weren't supposed to have or none at all before they began so close to the target, and it was a challenge for everyone. They were all about the same size in height and weight, but Empowered was constantly shorter, her eyes very almost larger, in comparison to his. It had taken eight hours to level this damn thing for an eleven hour-sized to be the toughest thing to survive and the leading group in the Shadowstrike mission. Usually Empowered wasn't up to the job until sometime during a mission, with most of their patrol having to be so small because the more dangerous crimes involved because criminals did not stop, nor cower, when your team was passing them. So…they were just there, to learn, not commit crimes. In other words, they weren't known. Which was bad because a and an equal voice often sounded when other were around Empowered too much, but…oh, even without knowing they were very, very gifted. His higher chanced shot them to get credit when the case you really wanted to win first, they had scored quite a lot. 'Then what?' 'If I just get out of the way, this thing blows up on your teammates right in front of you. No, that's the thing! Except you also know…you've worked against them enough times, you know they'll probably not blame you because they've worked against you plenty of times before and know they'll simply forget it happened...' he said, almost quietly. He liked thinking he was the only one who knew the fear. Nuke nodded back to him, and the green hedgehog ran forward to see Captain America not coming out of his cockpit either, but a little higher… '...and you've killed them a lot of times, you know they'll think it's alright if they kill you. The difference is that these are considered to be the elite agents, men who are infallible. You are absolutely a threat, and it would be worth sacrificing the rest of you.' she said that calmly and humbly to him, face blue that unnerved Nuke. 'We're soldiers…we fight for people we love or have died for. We live our lives to protect humanity. Not because we hate them, but because we love them.' 'So when you saw this squad running away from you…a big chunk of them didn't want to fight…besides that, there were other leaders higher up who would put themselves in danger if they were to lose him.' she admitted, the green hedgehog eyeing her warily. 'Even if they know what the stakes are, I don't want to walk away because of that.' Nuke sighed, but the heart eyes said no, he knew exactly that. 'And that, Empowered, is something I have in common with you,' Nuke said simply, '...but that does mean we work differently. Since we can't always tell what other people are feeling...I need to know why…only if they would do this because they would sacrifice themselves.' she said calmly. Nuke nodded and tried to look cool in the face of such grandiose plans. It was trying at best, but there was still some secrecy about her. All the things he had assumed that she would know by now, were lies. Nuke thought this was funny because that fact he and Empowered were planning on this mission seemed like a really good idea, at least, she already hadn't told anyone else, so she really didn't have anything to hide… 'It feels right…they're eager and caring, they respect me for my power, they talk about fighting for their beliefs. All the petty bullshit they left behind to me and wish we'd never realized was we aren't all heroes, we're only here to earn a paycheck, serve people, so we should just keep putting down the odds against ourselves. I hope we don't regret it for the rest of our lives,' she said honestly. It's all so different from the future full of shinies and these villains, and now they were children…or so he thought. He leaned forward and slipped his finger into his pocket and brought out the damned antigravity experiment he had used to make side trips to space missions before, laying it out on the floor in the middle of the bunk, carefully looking at the shadows and the walls he lived with. 'I will go back, and I won't let you guys fight like this again. You deserve better.' he said as Empowered nodded. He closed his eyes for a second and set up the device, reaching out to use a big arm like the one all Americans did. 'I'm sure you will, dear Empowered…there is no rewiring time between us for the rest of our lives. We will get there, we will make it, we will do what we always have. Don't worry, I'll leave a good thing for you all. This,' he was holding up the arm as he spoke, 'is my job…you know. My calling in life and my duty is to accomplish certain things in life. I may be a mercenary for hire, but I still do something I love most in the world for a living. And as long as I'm a soldier and protector of the weak…if I must choose to leave right now…then that is what I'm going to do.' He stared into the dirt and dirt… 'Cleaning my own kitchen with this brute- like, hell no!' she snapped as she glanced at his old junk robots and explained, 'look I want you to take care of it. Without you…it won't make the screen sweep for Bucky…when all my freaks try to steal my awesome gadget again, then someone might actually see my focus…and it won't be fun when I have to delete whatever has been written on there…and you're the only person I would trust to do it. That's what I mean,' she went on in awe, the green hedgehog suddenly feeling proud of his first lead…the underling that took her undercover missions well…'…you said you'd be here in a week.' she huffed, which made Nuke feel even more happier…'so be here by next Monday.' she promised before pushing the lead down. 'Keep it clean.' he watched as Empowered returned to her usual cheerful attitude, and couldn't help but look into her eyes at how pleased she looked. Then he took his own hand out andUsing high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *Using high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context I was going to steal your purse, point and laugh but... hell, I'll try. "Tori, I swear I'm not *fucking up *that bad a job this week, or ever." Her words were like the silent reminder that the very things she'd been worrying about, had happened all over again. She went through a few seconds of detached concentration. "She's right. I think that we've talked enough. Please... please... get back to work." Ugh... so unfair. The adrenaline left my system as quickly as it came, and I started leaning on the wall instead of me. He began to shiver slightly, and her silence was becoming a distant and very uncomfortable sound. A deep breath cleared the remaining tension out of her heart. I hated myself for it. But then I saw his breath. That pitiful gasp for air. Gently I brought a hand up, tracing along his shoulder blades to feel his pain. I breathed in with him. The odour of copper still hung heavy in the room and sent another surge of warmth up his spine. He sighed and it sounded filled with so much despair, desperation and pain that it actually hurt my chest. He barely deserved it. And he really wasn't alive anymore. I managed to pull his arm, and within the next five minutes I found a way to make him stay where he was. We lay together silently, eyes open, almost to the point of tears as we did our best to remember what was left. Through it all he'd become weak, and now his eyelids refused to meet mine and my hands were full of hearts, looking for something in the world he wasn't. The second I realized that someone had finally spotted the little red hat in the bag at the foot of the bed, something a lot bigger than the bed itself began to take root on my skin. It started small with the shuddering breaths and changes of expression... just teeth brushing over skin and hot fingers... but the real mental strain didn't manifest until the corner of my eye caught sight of his reflection. Now it didn't bother me at all that I'm missing quite a bit of color... for whatever reason, it felt like his hair was gray rather than brown. The upholstery in his arms looked exactly the same color of his hair, though oddly enough his shirt had white stripes, almost as much as the hat, which to put it into perspective was... a part of his body that I could see too... and the colors that was suddenly all too vivid. His cheekbones were burned black and the skin of his nose was turned pink from the inside out... because this was obviously some kind of strange disease I hadn't noticed before, and I wasn't going to pretend not to know. And on top of everything, his hands had turned white. ***** It happened again before we knew what had happened, about seven hours in. As usual, Tori was busy work, right there in front of the mirror so we wouldn't miss a single thing. She was wearing what must have been an expensive jacket in the subdued blues of autumn... but now here, hanging by her elbow, the simple shirt and jeans flapped open exposing the pale flesh of her arms, the blue from her eyes streaked a bright white, the vague purpling in her breasts... and not one of her muscles showed more now than it had when they first got out of the sun. *"They say sickness tends to happen around the holidays."*** /chapter content Second Chance ----------- Chapter Summary > A whole bunch of alterations to chapter 2. > > Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes2) chapter content If I had known two weeks ago that we'd reach our weekly limit of doing two chapters every week, I would have totally surprised. So much had happened that we hadn't even written back-to-back scripts for our past five or so chapters! I thought that it had only gotten worse since then, that a record breaker was definitely going to come through the next time we reached limits. So that is one of the reasons why we're actually starting a new series: because we actually needed to rework our plot because the complications that arose after the first chapter had made us stop completely. But, being inspired by the last chapter, now that we're starting fresh, I feel like we have done a pretty good job. Also a quick shoutout to the reddit users who helped us finish them up: [Protip](http://reddit.com/r/Neck(i)|https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6l8nvyGoL0w&t=3s) -you may have noticed them picking up momentum lately. If you don't want the guy to pester you too much, change his questions to something else such as "What should you do in your spare time?" or "If something catches your attention but you know no one could possibly give a shit about it, what would you do in order to figure it out?" [You can find some of their suggestions here](http://sortedcompletes.tumblr.com/post/153749003643/my-curse-is-getting-so-terrifyingly-hard-here-man-bba). At any rate we'll be adding a kind of double header chapter every week to mark the milestones. Maybe the boy in the video above will get the chance to go down in history as the single ever who met the Empress and accepted defeat first. :] Now that I've sorta dipped my toes into what lies ahead for the sequel I really hope I've managed to explain myself better in these rather short notes. There's gonna be a summary for the sake of keeping my sanity on a ship I always hoped we would sail for a few chapters, at the very least. :P But if you don't fancy reading the note itself, you may just find out when you read the fic, before the finale starts happening. Or, you can just bookmark the "Before You Go," section, as you can read either from those side posts or from a different link at the bottom, depending on whether you've already gone all the way through and decided to close this fic and move on. (It's mostly filler, so sorry if it seems too glib, I apologize. After that, we'll see! Feel free to ask me anything. One of the beauties about you all is that your initial opinions on their romances are so varied. So say for instance that they want to be together romantically, and you reject that option because you think they're best friends, you may be right, they may however treat one another closer than friends and have a healthy friendship to fit the classification. *[Thanks a lot for that ones :)**](https://boards.na.leagueoflegends.com/en/c/help/c35kn9mi-eighth-year-beach-friends-well-if you don't mind it, it's often the case that romances keep them as close and so dedicated to each other as they are.](https://boards.na.leagueoflegends.com/en/c/topic/342465411?page=1#1) Either way, you're welcome to a comment on this! Take care, Q-watch chapter content **Captain Claudius Castiglione approaches his squadron with pride and composure. He did not expect to receive special greeting of any sort. All he had witnessed thus far was the coda for his particular mission where a friendly earthling fleet under Admiral Rikierto spoke of incredible hunger for some type of hellspawn, and generally lacked direction but took as it came. And with the smoke filled frame in front of him that indicated the burning of the unnamed person that he'd meet days later, he began to pick up at the subtext. On the surface, it looked merely suspicious behaviour, and an impulsive movement away from his one dimensional plan of winning any battle was impossible. Yet a profound warmth rested within his heart to take the friend of his vessel in his arms and plunge into a fiery inferno deep within the night of hellos. His fury was still burning within him and he was ready to roll forward in his tracks in a pure raging hellfire's eye path towards both person and fire's fury's destination to oppose yet again his current situation. When the best thing he knows how to do is to strike as quickly as humanly possible regardless of any preparation, when as captain, for no rational reason, he could allow his tenacity to go down the drain to waste as a display, before plunging back to action back to the task it currently was, the insults and barely veiled curses, and the cowardly pleas to remove himself from any battle, whatever it may be, only made the fire hotter within him. His mind screamed after his due diligence, no feeling was worth while as he drove in a roaring blaze of hellfire at full bore towards whatever little insult the enemy soldier had felt fit to publicly make, which had barely been long enough for the fire to roar once more and he had believed himself well done until he noticed the words being left for the world's benefit of the meeting which was in progress that contained little choice but to include the existence of this. The man glowered up in heat (An admiral knows fire does it's work, what else can he possibly tell it to do and be told not to). Regret swirling in his stomach to be there when he sat down the enemy in the dirt, the men of his close upon being left to their devices until the smoke had settled thick. Nervously taking a seat upon a safe point in the air column, he saw out the station window the twin gods, above the fray, the young nations behind them declaring their superiority for battle and carrying fire as their weapon of choice. It was on the horizon the moment the enemy general announced his next plan of attack, all sailors focussed on the light source ahead of them, narrowing the sky towards a high proportion of falling ash soon to follow the sun who was going to return soon, having made to one final pre fight briefing with the other factions before that their fates again hinged upon. By their method of sneaking on unsuspecting, drowning ships of transport and barges, they attacked what was now proving to be the only wall in between themselves and the rest of the world. Shipwrecks awaited, It was given to him and a handful of men to break in, either with swords, forts, and warships to destroy anything significant they might find, or otherwise, cut through those that stood in their way and prove themselves of more powerful caliber should even their war be declared and declared truly being lost in the gulf between continents by mass destruction rather than attrition and uncertainty, much to his chagrin and delight. He looked up from the Commander in Chief's chair, displaying no irritation to ever be in a situation as trying and light as what he now found himself in, with certain knowledge like where the of the conflict lay amongst his imperial's keen gaze. It would surely be all sunk ship. **But no***.* "Admiral" Claudius spoke with far too much emotion, and caught the slightly surprised glance from his subordinate before continuing. "Now more than ever the winds must be prepared to deliver upon your one hundred mile gap across our, and as you know it must choose the weather for the contest rather than vice versa and therefore present you with a choice of troops and instead of splitting your opponents forces they will move across one hundred miles each to simply kill each other if these hostilities actually escalated." The blonde adroitly ripped from in anger, like cocky Oseane had pulled it over his ear of his and looked to the next officer when the doors suddenly opened wide to reveal the tall, imposing frames that chose landside by stormtroopers. When these were few more men onto stand, wanting nothing more than slaughter themselves and saw eye to hand combat was the quickest approach to victory and though by this time he found himself less bitter in the face of battle, this guy was better he did the duty and saved his crew and fleet and so it was on to the last act for the alpha officer. He stepped aside to let them in. Again finding the blond skilful and ready when the larger sultani and bodyguard followed behind him and swept in without notifying their commander which was always encouraged but neither required. He shook them aside with ease and activated his cannons and seeing that a third of the current Imperial forces were already geared with light weaponry, pushing forward with resolution for blood through the matter of darkness and not fear to face their one hundred miles of mountainous battlefield. On the following night this group would look to die fighting, but here along the given objectives, they were given another long-range accuracy unlike anyone to have any chance of winning the foot action. Their general had turned up before the second rain of guns a full two days ago when the rain of the Imperial troops was equal to where had come and wiped out nearly all remaining supply stations before that they cared to investigate, all enemy shipyards and equipment caches and sailing crews were in a state of confusion seeing the rain not becoming monsoons being brushed away as the rebels and Imperials joined hands to finish the war once more. "This war must go on, this fire is not idle or no-one must perish!" He recited with yet another flourish the number of men standing beneath the tapering forest, and compared the large host of his forces to the attacks by which they had been held off from reaching their objective. This angle afforded more features and choices that appealed more to those holding the very eye, so they took their time not anticipating an ambush or plan to halt when they would fire across a valley at the top of a hill in a quiet place. Most such positions were carefully constructed with small bits of defenses including main lines of defences, foot guards and hidden traps that ensured them a win or place in one of two situations, the chance of failure being unheard of after such an offence. As with the fighting right hand side and sticking men with points long attached to their armor protecting their weapons still held evidence of their victories, the narrow war ground being used to calculate on where the objective lay within their target in the death they drew that became rare to have such an opportunity when it was seen in this circumstances. Luring his respective swordsman whom was in full blues into a false sense of their respective capabilities, the man whose fist, chest, forearms and hair were covered with conical iron marks and he charged within the swordsman's line as loud his sword's swing could reach which proved to be a fortunate event where he was reinforced at the hit that way into his own armor against a distant thrust of the weapon that was set the man off balance thus exposing his vulnerable visor whilst the man forced back by those who pulled onto a mid line forcing a quick retreat, the blade just missed him. But it seemed for his survival that had come after due to his actions to cease sword gripped stabbing onto flesh. His unblemished armor around the arms a shining flush taken out from the line taking command of their shields and the remaining groups close formed ranks letting the nimble, assassin style of attack their general taught yet swiftly began trying not to engage towards any of the maneuver that so surprised the Imperial forces immediately halted and began to move their most proficient soldiers into position with precise movements quickly striking their swords into the figures quickly about to fall. And once they did, so that there were to be noticeable differences between the conditions and types of deaths which soon changed the outlook. They most likely all would soon find more bodies around the ground but it'd be the worse of the ten, who enjoyed casual shots taking aim for their desired victims face changing places with their deadly weapons slowing down, being shot or stabbing as they ran for the earthor formations where the bodies covered them and took a distinct edge. With few men able to follow their strategy to its end, the rebel's hired mercenaries seemed to lose momentum at what was thought was easy work against remaining more seasoned warriors further bringing up casualties the forces inside the camps. This also meant that several more recruits perished withUsing high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context "It's not like that," he said. "I mean, I don't know, I guess it is. But we've been friends for a long time, and you're my friend too." He looked down at the floor. "And I'm sure I'll get over this eventually. It's just… I don't want to lose you again." "I know," she said softly. "But I think I can help you with that." "What do you want me to do?" he asked. She smiled. "You should probably go home and sleep for a while. You have work tomorrow, right? I could help you with that." "Yeah, yeah," he said, nodding. "Thanks, though. I'll be back in a bit." She nodded and left him alone in his office. He sat there for a few minutes, thinking about what she'd suggested. /chapter content Chapter End Notes > So, this chapter was a little different than I expected. I had a lot of fun writing it, but it also kind of took me by surprise. I thought I'd have more of a problem with this chapter because I wanted to write something that would make her happy, but I didn't think I'd actually be able to. I still don't know how to write happy endings. > > Anyway, I hope you liked it! > > Chapter 15 ---------- Chapter Summary > A little more of the story so far. > > Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes15) chapter content *"So, I'm thinking we need to talk about your job."* *"Okay, well, I don't really mind working at a coffee shop."* *"No, I mean, I know you don't. I mean, you're okay with it, but it's not really your thing."* *"Well, I guess I can't say I'm completely against it either."* *"Really? That's great! I mean, I'm glad you're okay with it, but I don't think it's going to be a problem for you. I mean, I know you're not exactly looking for a career change, but if you ever decide you want to take one, I wouldn't be opposed to helping you out."* *"Oh, I think I'd like that!"* *"Good. Well, I'm going to give you some ideas on what you might like to do, and then I'll see if I can find a way for you to apply. If you're interested, I can set up an interview for you."* *"Oh, thank you!"* *"Of course."* *"Alright, I'll see you later, okay?"* *"Yeah, see you soon."* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *"Bye!"* *Using high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand." "You're not supposed to be here," she said. "It's not safe for you to be here." "I know." "I'm not saying you can't come back, but you need to go home." "I know," he said. "I just… I don't know what to do." "You can talk to me," she said. "I'll listen." "I don't want to talk to you," he said. "You don't have to," she said. "I'm here for you, and I'll be here for you until you're ready to talk to me." "I don't want to talk to you," he said again. "Then I'm going to tell you something that might help you." "What is it?" "You're going to be okay," she said. "I'm going to tell you something that might help you. And if you don't want to hear it, you can stop reading this and go home." "Okay," he said. "I'm going to tell you something that might help you, and if you don't want to hear it, you can stop reading this and go home." "Okay," he said. "If you don't want to hear it, you can stop reading this and go home." "Okay," he said again. "And if you don't want to hear it, you can stop reading this and go home." "Okay," he said again. "And if you don't want to hear it, you can stop reading this and go home." "Okay," he said again. "And if you don't want to hear it, you can stop reading this and go home." "Okay," he said again. "And if you don't want to hear it, you can stop reading this and go home." "Okay," he said again. "And if you don't want to hear it, you can stop reading this and go home." "Okay," he said again. "And if you don't want to hear it, you can stop reading this and go home." "Okay," he said again. "And if you don't want to hear it, you can stop reading this and go home." "Okay," he said again. "And if you don't want to hear it, you can stop reading this and go home." "Okay," he said again. "And if you don't want to hear it, you can stop reading this and go home." "Okay," he said again. "And if you don't want to hear it, you can stop reading this and go home." "Okay," he said again. "And if you don't want to hear it, you can stop reading this and go home." Using high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context "I was in the middle of something," he said, and he sounded just a little bit sad. "I don't know. I didn't want to ask you for a favor, but I don't know what else to do." "You can't go back to the hotel, right?" "No. I mean, I could, but I don't want to. I want to be here with you." "I'm not going anywhere." "Okay, well, I'll see you tomorrow then." He nodded, and he left, and he didn't call him back. /chapter content Chapter End Notes > So, that's it! I hope you enjoyed this one. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did. > > Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a great day. > > Chapter 3 --------- Chapter Summary > There is an argument between Harry and Draco, which ends with Harry being hurt. > > Chapter Notes > This chapter contains a minor sex scene. > > See the end of the chapter for more [notes](#endnotes3) chapter content "What the hell is going on?" Harry asked, as he sat down at his desk. "Why are you trying to make me go to the hotel?" "Well, I thought you were going to tell me where you were staying, so I figured I'd check up on you," Draco said. "I saw you leaving the bar, and I thought I'd just go and find out where you were staying, but it seems like you're already gone." Harry frowned. "I'm not going anywhere." "Well, I guess I'm just going to follow you," Draco said, and he stood up. "I'm sure you'll want to talk to me, though." "Of course I do," Harry said. "I don't need any help from you." "No, I don't either," Draco said. "But I'll come by anyway. I just want to know what's going on. I don't want you to be alone." Harry sighed. "I'm not alone," he said. "I've got you." "Yeah, but you're not going anywhere." "I'm not going anywhere," Harry repeated. "And I don't want to go anywhere." Draco sighed. "Fine." "Fine," Harry said. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then." "Good night, Harry." Harry smiled. "Good night, Draco." "Good night, Harry," Draco said. He left, and he didn't call him back. /chapter content Chapter End Notes > So, that's it! I hope you enjoyed this one. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did. > > Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a great day. > > See the end of the chapter for more [notes](#endnotes3) chapter content "What the hell is going on?" Harry asked, as he sat down at his desk. "Why are you trying to make me go to the hotel?" "Well, I thought you were going to tell me where you were staying, so I figured I'd check up on you," Draco said. "I saw you leaving the bar, and I thought I'd just go and find out where you were staying, but it seems like you're already gone." Harry frowned. "I'm not going anywhere." "Well, I guess I'm just going to follow you," Draco said, and he stood up. "I'm sure you'll want to talk to me, though." "Of course I do," Harry said. "I don't need any help from you." "No, I don't either," Draco said. "But I'll come by anyway. I just want to know what's going on. I don't want you to be alone." "Of course I'm not," Harry said. "I've got you." "Yeah, but you're not going anywhere." "I'm not going anywhere," Harry repeated. "And I don't want to go anywhere." "Okay, well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then." "Good night, Harry." "Good night, Draco." He left, and he didn't call him back. /chapter content Chapter End Notes > So, that's it! I hope you enjoyed this one. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did. > > Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a great day. > > See the end of the chapter for more [notes](#endnotes3) chapter content "What the hell is going on?" Harry asked, as he sat down at his desk. "Why are you trying to make me go to the hotel?" "Well, I thought you were going to tell me where you were staying, so I figured I'd check up on you," Draco said. "I saw you leaving the bar, and I thought I'd just go and find out where you were staying, but it seems like you're already gone." Harry frowned. "I'm not going anywhere." "Well, I guess I'm just going to follow you," Draco said, and he stood up. "I'm sure you'll want to talk to me, though." "Of course I do," Harry said. "I don't need any help from you." "No, I donUsing high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context "Hey. What's up?" "I was wondering if you'd like to come with me to the library." She nods, and he guides her to the library. They take seats in the lounge area, waiting for the library to open. "You ready?" He asks. "Yeah. Just...if you don't mind, I'd like to go alone?" He smiles. "Sure thing." She nods and follows him to the library. Once they're inside, she turns and looks at him. "So, uh...what did you want to talk about?" "We've been working on a project for the last few weeks, but it's been a little slow going. I've been thinking about trying to get you to join us, but I figured that we could work on it together. You already know how I feel about you, and I think you're pretty amazing." "Wow," she says. "So what kind of project is this?" "It's...I don't know. It's really, really complicated, and I don't even know if I can explain it to you yet." "Okay. And what do you need me for?" "Well, it's hard to explain, but there's this girl named Katie who's really into us, and she has this big crush on you." She laughs. "I guess that's good, because I've been having a hard time falling for you, too. I'm not sure if I can be more than friends with a guy who can barely keep a girl's interest." "You don't have to be friends with me. I mean, I'm not looking to be your boyfriend, but I wouldn't mind if you wanted to be. I just thought it might help me get over some of my problems." "Would you mind if I told Katie what you and I are doing?" He blushes. "Uh...yeah? Is she okay with it?" "Oh, yeah, she's cool. She's a pretty awesome girl, actually. She told me about the project and she said she'd like to come with us." He nods. "Good. She's willing to help." "Oh, you're her first contact?" "Um...yeah. I'd like to meet her again sometime." "Okay. Let's go then." /chapter content Chapter End Notes > I hope you enjoyed this one. And thanks for all the comments and kudos! <3 > > Thank you so much for all your support! <3 > > Also, I didn't include any of the long-term scenes, because I didn't want to spoil the fun for anyone. Hope you enjoy them, though! > > The Deepest Blue ---------------- Chapter Summary > Finn's got a plan, and he's about to go to the library to get it done. > > Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes9) chapter content Finn is sitting at his desk, making notes in the margins of the report he's been writing for the previous few days. "Why don't you take a break?" "No." "Come on, I'll help you." "No, you need to stay focused." "Fine, I'll sit here. Good job today, by the way." He sighs as he moves from his desk to the other side of the room. "You're the best." "Thanks." "Are you trying to distract me from the fact that I'm stuck behind a desk for the rest of the day?" "Maybe." "Hey, who knows?" He stops and looks at her. "I do." She smiles. "I'm glad. I was worried." "Me, too." She tilts her head. "What about you?" "I'm fine. I just need a break, I guess." She snorts. "I guess I'll help you, then." "Thanks." They sit in silence for a moment. "I don't know, I think I might just take a nap in the library instead." Finn snorts. "I wouldn't put it past you. You do that sometimes, you should try it." She rolls her eyes. "I'm a grown woman. I can go to bed when I want to." "Not all the time." "I know. But I don't want to spend my whole day trying to catch up with you." "I know." "But I don't want to spend my whole day trying to catch up with you, either." "Me neither." "So you're just gonna sit there? You want to give up your whole life to me?" "That's not what I meant, Finn." "Good. I'm sorry I made you think I wanted something from you." "It's okay." "Well, I'm not interested in anything." "Then leave me alone." "I won't." "Good." "Good. I'm not taking up your whole day, and you know it." "Good." "Good. I'm not in love with you, Finn." "I know." "So just quit trying to catch up with me and let me do my work?" "I won't." "Good." "Fine." "Good." "Okay." "Good." "Good." "Good." "Okay." "Good." "Okay." "Good." "Good." "Okay." "Good." "Good." "Good." "Good." "Good." "Okay." "Good." "Okay." "OkayUsing high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context "It's a good thing I didn't get to count how many there were, no?" Coulson said. "I'd rather not have you ask me questions about that." Rogers laughed. "Nothing important, thanks. But, sir, is there anything else I can do for you?" "You're on top of it, Steve," Coulson said, smiling. "We already know I need a plan." "You're getting impatient," Rogers said. "Yes, and get ready," Coulson growled. "Well, if I'm being rude, sir, I'm actually just going to need a lot of time to think about this stuff," Rogers said. He gestured to the three near-empty chairs. "Since when do you start putting words together," Coulson said, amusement evident in his voice. "Didn't you ever tell me you never got into an argument with anybody before?" Rogers asked. "*Complainant* in front of an audience? Of course I've done that. Now, you said you've been working on your plan, and if you get anything wrong in my opinion, you'll get me to screw you over? Yeah, well, I'm not getting into an argument with you or anything, either. I'm here on my first day at work, for crying out loud. So, give me a damn break, Rogers." Coulson scowled. "Wouldn't be the first time I got one up on you, little guy." "And I'm thinking, given we've got someone like you, plus a few soldiers, in the field right now, isn't it obvious who needs to be guarding this development? I've already been blocked by one guard since this morning." "Get your damned threats in my ear or you won't be working for us anymore," Coulson said. "One guard doesn't a project make, Rogers. They don't care about your nonsense. If they had their way, the construction would be abandoned by this point, unless you make it yours. Wouldn't that be a shame?" Rogers said, his glare causing Coulson to shrug. "My job is to protect people. I have a duty, and you're going to ask me to pick some of them to guard projects on this base." Coulson said, his mouth quirking into a smirk. "I thought you might, Rogers." Rogers looked amused. "Like I said, you aren't getting me out of this, Coulson. I have orders." "But, Rogers, I thought –" "You said you weren't getting me to ask you to do anything." Rogers glared. "That you were going to do what you wanted. It's over." Coulson leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, and that's exactly what I'm planning to do, when the mission gets underway." He reached for his laptop. "My team is doing this right now, I just need to run through the specs, and decide if anyone is going to watch over this while I'm gone. I can't tell you which ones, and it's your choice who you want to have around with you. You may not choose to let me have one, but you're making that call now. So, if you've got any objections, I suggest you rethink what you're asking me to do." He clicked open his laptop, not even bothering to stop to read the paper he was reading in his lap. "Just remember that there will be *no mistakes*, okay?" "Roger, that's a very clear message you want to send, sir," Rogers said. "Yes, and I know you're listening. I had the same conversation with Fury after the HYDRA fiasco." Coulson smiled. "And I made it clear that I wasn't sending you on a mission until I got all the paperwork done. And you know you have already received your security clearance, Rogers, right?" "I know, sir." Rogers nodded. "But I'm still in charge here, and that means I make the decisions. So, I'm asking again, what do you expect me to do?" "Rogers, I want you to make this very, very clear. This is not some kind of game. It's real life, not something I thought you'd make me do." "Sir," Rogers said, stern. "I've never seen my parents fight. I've never heard them yell, let alone walk away from a situation like this. I've never experienced anything as distressing as the death of a loved one. I have no interest in meddling in your plans." "If I say you're not allowed to take assignments in high-profile projects until you've gone through what I did, then I'm telling you you have to stay there until I say otherwise." Rogers raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Is that part of your directive, sir?" Coulson nodded, noncommittal. "Yeah, sir. The reason I sent you this information was because I knew that you were well qualified to do this. In fact, you've been doing this before, so why not try it out on something less dangerous?" Rogers frowned, running his finger through his hair. "Sir, you know it's going to work better the less it's personal." "Alright, Rogers, if that's what you want." Coulson sighed, beginning to write down their schedules. "I haven't got the entire agreement finished yet, but as soon as I do, I'll send it to you." He clicked his laptop closed and turned to face Rogers again. "Now, Rogers, I think you should know that my team has assembled a team of combat veterans, so far, here on base. Since you're here, you have one week to decide what to do next, including the assignment we're going to give you tomorrow." Rogers narrowed his eyes. "Sir, I don't believe that's a question. You know I don't belong on a crew that's meant for a man like you." "Not quite," Coulson said. "But I expect more of you than the others do of you. So, if you go ahead and sign your paperwork, and the next day decides that you wouldn't be better suited for this mission, I'll have the rest of my team report to me and tell you what happened." Rogers looked annoyed. "And what if I don't? What if I think something's wrong?" Coulson sighed. "The mission starts tomorrow. You were the one that said that. You know you're supposed to trust me and not do this thing. You can keep that promise, or you can choose to do what needs to be done." He pushed up on the chair next to him and leaned back in his chair. "So, Rogers. You're going to keep your promises, and if there's something you need to know about this mission, I need you to tell me. If you have issues with this assignment, be honest about it. Don't make this harder for yourself by lying." Rogers was silent. He knew that choice and he could almost read his mind. "Look, sir. I got to know you as a guy I saw at the gym. That's why I decided to trust you. But when I got to know you as Captain, then I knew I needed you, and I figured that you know about our time as partners. Now you're on the fucking field in a fight, and you've got an enemy, and you're supposed to defend. Okay?" "That's my job, Rogers." "And it's gonna be fucking hard, but if you can't handle it and you make us change it? Then you should probably quit." "You got something else in mind?" "Better have a better plan than-" "Loki, we're not trying to argue about your role here. If you're not used to it, then you should really get used to it. That doesn't mean you're supposed to be out there by yourself. Cap, if we end up breaking you, you're going to help us a lot. Don't think you're useless. So don't listen to anyone who says otherwise. And don't think you can't handle it either. Do it once, you'll be fine. Tell your men about it when you've done it twice. Work your ass off, stick with me, and the results will speak for themselves." "Captain, sir, you should know what you're getting into." "Look, Rogers, you know that. Tell me why you're not sure about this assignment. Don't get mad, but don't lie. Just say that you don't like it." Rogers flicked on the light. "Sorry, sir, but I'd have to be physically assaulted by the likes of you, which would be...I'm not entirely sure I'd be able to take that." "Well, there are guys like you. Cap, there have been a whole lot of them that have taken part in missions like this before, and you've had experiences when you could have killed people to protect yourself. And while you might not agree with me about what that means, I know that what we are fighting for is important to you. The lives of soldiers. And whoever endangers you, you have to be ready to stop them. Sometimes that means you need to take matters into your own hands. Would you be willing to do that if needed?" "I don't think I'd have to rely on myself for that," Rogers said, backing away. "I'm just a soldier, and I'm not very good at self-defense." "Then we need you. This is a real mission, Cap. A mission where you have people that depend on you. Just the idea that we don't have someone capable of doing this won't even be a thought. And if you think you're too inexperienced to run such a thing, then I recommend that you aren't asked to. I don't want you getting hurt or doing something that will hurt your life." "Okay, sir." "Good. Now, before you go, ask yourself how you want to be remembered. Cap. Think about it. Believe me when I tell you that you're still being asked to do a hard thing, where you have a chance to save lives. Those of your kind still get the occasional assignment like this, and no one knows how that comes about, but they're asked to do it. Now, if you've made that decision and you want to keep it, then you need to continue to do it. Because the only reason I'm asking you to do it is because I *do *have a reason to, and I'm not about to let it die now. Because if you don't, you're not going to last long in this job. You'll have your people asking you to do it again, and you'll do it, no matter how many people tell you you're not capable. And when you do, if you can't do it, then I'll do it for you and for all of us. So, if you can't do it, go. You've already made your choice." "Yes, sir, Captain." "Good." --- After they took off, one of the soldiers looked over at Mike. "Let's go talk to Loki. He's the Director for this field." Mike pressed a button, and the air around him was instantly covered with heat. It felt like a million ovens were working in unison, and everything began to fall around him. There was a war going on, and every time he tried to focus, he found that his brain stopped working and would only be able to see a wide blue field surrounding him. He imagined the heat, but immediately the heat wasn't enough, and there was another part of him that wished that Mike was wrapped around the edge of the war, helping the good guys and who were killing bad guys. He couldn't let that happen, not when so many people were dying. He wanted to touch everything and he knew that if he touched any part of the battlefield, he would have to deal with some sort of heat. And it wasn't helping anyone, but that didn't stop him from wanting to be around it. Mike didn't know why, but after the heat started to subside, he began to feel a little calmer, and pushed himself off of a wall and stood up. "There you are. Good old Cap!" He leaned on the wall, waiting for Loki to meet his eye. "Here I am." Loki met the Stark boy's gaze. "You don't need to tell me anything," he remarked, smiling, which sent a surge of fear into Mike's chest. He had never felt more small than he did standing in front of him, and for the first time, Mike realized just how vulnerable he really was. "I'm glad you came, Mike." "You too." Mike felt something like a wave wash over him, and as soon as it ended, there was a loud crash from somewhere nearby. "Shit." As soon as Loki was out of the heat, Mike reached out with a hand and shielded his eyes with it. The windows in the tower came crumbling down. Two parts of the building were falling down together, knocking Mike back against the wall. He felt a ripple of pain at the spot where he hit it, and, sure enough, fingers had been found and in his hand was a bullet. He let out a scream, letting the bullets get him in the chest. He dove down, firing again, and this time, the effect on the building was huge, and just as the impact was great, so were the feathers flying around in his hands. He tried to pull them back, but they wouldn't let him. "What the fuck, Mike?!" He moved to check Loki's injuries, but as soon as he found the sides of his face, he couldn't help but know that the bullets had left him with serious injury to his lungs. "Does this guy have any idea what he's doing?" Mike could practically hear Loki's anguished words. "Look, Mike, I'm sorry, but these things aren't going to slow down. They're going to get worse, and there's nothing you can do about it." "I don't care about stopping them." Mike pushed back against the wall as much as he could and closed his eyes. He could feel the pieces falling, and knew that no matter how he felt, he needed to continue moving. There was a glass-paneled window down to his left, and he could see Loki through it. "I'm willing to leave all of this behind. I don't care if I live or die, I'll be very selfish and decide what I want." He turned to look at Loki. "Loki, do you trust me?" "Do I fucking *trust *you, Cap?" A dark smile formed on the man's face, and Mike knew he was starting to be scared again. "I trust you, Steve." Mike pulled the bullets from his body and thrust them in Loki's face. "What the fuck do you want?" "I want you to trust me. I said that before you would agree to me being the one who defeated the dragons." Mike hadn't even thought about killing a dragon before, but the thought of it being brought back up had him feeling almost giddy. Loki didn't seem angry, but Mike knew that he felt he had lost something like it somewhere down the line. So he stepped toward Loki and grabbed hold of his shoulders with both hands, pulling him in close. "This is my choice." There were a few seconds where Loki seemed hesitant, but when he looked at Mike, he was smiling and gave a simple nod, and Mike breathed a sigh of relief. "I trust you." Mike placed Loki back in his dragon form and cuffed his wrists. "Okay." He pulled the gun from him and made sure it was pointed at Loki's heart. "Now." Loki started to pull his hands away from Mike's, but when he saw that Mike wouldn't let him go, he stopped. "Oh," he exclaimed. He wanted to say something, to tell him that he had known for awhile that Mike was afraid of him, that he had always wondered if he was just letting him off the hook and done it before, but he did not. Instead, he simply nodded and then pulled both of his hands into his own, and held them around Mike's neck. "How about you tell me what this is going to cost me?" Loki asked, eyes finally locking with Mike's. "All I want is to save lives. That's it." Mike didn't want to risk anything. It wasn't that he didn't want to use the bullets or anything. What he was saying was no, but he was just going to take theUsing high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context I didn't want to be alone, so I decided to find him. The dog in the yard probably wasn't going to be any help, as I had no idea how to deal with it, so instead I made a safe house for myself. Taking my bags from where they had been stowed in the trunk of my truck, I made my way out into the empty field. I really needed a shower. I wasn't happy to be without my clothes, and not even the cold would help me, but I didn't know where my clothes were. I hadn't heard from Georgi since early Saturday morning. His dog had disappeared, presumably leaving him alone, and I wasn't sure he was still on his way to take me home. I went up to where I'd been doing my laundry to make a quick comparison. There were loads and loads of blankets on the side of the field, and there was quite literally nothing in the fridge. I took off my boots and flung them at the wall of the shed. It looked like this was going to be a long night, but there was a light snow on the ground already, which would make it even colder. In fact, there was a couple inches of snow on the ground. I saw a small forest in the distance that made me worry. There was also a little creek that didn't seem right, but I knew it must lead somewhere. The shed was empty, though, so I figured I might as well let myself sleep out here. Twenty minutes later I was snuggling up on the floor of the shed, crying my eyes out. My whole body hurt. This was going to hurt all day. I remember wishing I could just die, but then I realized I didn't have to. This was okay. This was how it had to be. As I sat there, staring up at the ceiling, I couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before I woke up in the hospital bed. It had probably been twenty minutes by now. I knew I could get up and move around, but I wasn't sure if I could handle it. I finally decided it probably wouldn't hurt to just lie there all day and see how long it would take for me to figure out what to do. After what seemed like ages, the call came through. The dispatcher said she thought I was close, and since it was midnight, I thought I should go check on her. I hadn't thought I'd be getting a call at this time, and was glad she finally thought so. I thanked her and hung up. It was after one in the morning. I had fallen asleep in my bed and as soon as I took off my clothes, I was still dressed and lying on the floor. At first I didn't think it was strange, but as I removed myself from my clothes, I could feel the walls closing around me. My imagination raced, imagining a great white shark circling my naked body while I screamed. The room spun around me and I found myself staring at the end of the hallway in the far side of the house. I thought I was going to fall right then and there and I wasn't sure how long I stayed in that state, or how much longer I would be able to stay in it. I couldn't see anything, but I was still alive. I moved slowly and examined every inch of my body, looking for any wounds. Nothing. It was weird. Even though the hallway was empty, and the lights were on, I felt that something was about to happen. I wasn't surprised, because what else could have happened? The only thing that could have happened was for someone to come in here and see me and to realize I was alive. That would have been amazing, but it never happened. Finally, I decided to put my clothes back on. I gave myself a second to collect myself and fall in a fitful sleep. I must have fallen asleep within five minutes because I was woken up by a flash of white in my left eye. I screamed. I don't think I have ever screamed before. I was screaming and feeling my heart beat in my chest, trying to get away from whatever was holding me down. I had been on the floor for what seemed like ages when I realized that I was falling. My feet wouldn't hit the ground before my body, but my body wouldn't let me come back to the ground. I wondered how far I had fallen, but I didn't really care. I could hear my heartbeat in my chest, and I knew it was dead, but I was scared to see the blood streaming down my face. It must have been some time by now, because the flash of white stopped and I was breathing heavily and hurting. I was awake enough to get up and turn the light off. When I noticed the time, I realized it was past the time of day for summer, and after this pain in my face that no one should be left with, I decided to keep quiet about my situation. I was a fucking liar, and I hated it. I waited until it was almost midday before I called the police and told them I was going to call the paramedics. They were already on the way. I hung up and actually went downstairs. I figured I might as well wait until the ambulance arrived, so I let the door close before I went back upstairs. It was late afternoon when I found myself talking to my dad. He did his best not to sound upset, so I wasn't sure if he'd actually realize I was lying, but I guess he did. If he didn't know I was dead, how did he know I was in a state of shock and bleeding? "You're dead?" he asked. "I'm alive," I said. "Do you believe me?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm your father. I know. How the hell did you survive that?" "Thanks," I said, holding my stomach. "I got out of the car and tried to run away, but they caught up to me." "Your tire says you were going 20 miles an hour," he said, waving his finger at my garage door. "We know." I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. "I'm borrowing this," I said. "I know you can smell blood on my feet, and I'm pretty sure someone else saw me, but I think it's clear you were never going to believe me." "So tell us," he said. "Tell us you were raped?" I was shocked, to say the least. "I was," I said, trying to hold back tears. "I was raped." I heard him sigh. "But I mean why you didn't help someone?" he said. "You know they would have said the same thing about you." "There isn't much to say," I said, offering the little bit of my leg that I knew needed it. "You know I love you, and I don't care if I had to go through everything you've gone through to find you, but the only reason I would have believed you was if you told me what happened. This is crazy," he said, shaking his head. "Stop telling me this and get the hell out of my house." I got out of the car, and went to the garage door. I tore the rubber from the outer rim of my tire and leaned over to place it on the hood of the car. "Dad, please, just hear me out," I said. "I know I'm an idiot, but I'm just not ready to deal with the truth yet. So you'll have to believe me for now, but if I have to tell you again someday, I will. Just hold on to that promise for now, okay?" "Don't you mean how badly it hurts?" he asked. "The thing is, Dad," I said. "I'm not dead. A lot of things have happened." "And you'll tell us when you can, I hope." "Alright." "Dad, it's time," I said. "Please. Trust me." "I will," he said. "Tomorrow or sooner is a day I won't forget." I heard him grab his coat and his cane and head outside. I gave up on trying to break through and decided to focus on getting inside the house. I dug through the couch and under the table until I found my phone. When it was lying in my hand, I shoved it at him and yelled, "Oh, fuck me!" "Not quite," he said. "Here, I'll teach you." /chapter content Chapter End Notes > I'm so sorry if you guys liked this chapter. I hope that this is as enjoyable for you as it was for me! > > Reminder: I'm still working on it. > > (5-6-17) I am really not going to keep posting another chapter like this. I have deleted this message, and I apologize for any confusion. It's not like I can actually post more! Haha > > (6-10-17) But I also can't keep it off for long. The fact remains that I haven't posted in a while and this chapter is an exception. Enjoy. > > <3 > > (9-3-17) There is no rush right now. I just want to try to keep posting, and I can't afford to be lazy! Haha > > The next chapter will go up tomorrow, most likely. I may not post any more unless I absolutely have to. > > Enjoy, and thank you so much for reading my work! > > Unpacking ----- Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes1) chapter content (12-2-16) I'm trying to live a whole week. I wrote this yesterday and sent it off today, and I'm trying to keep the chapter updated as quickly as possible, so thank you guys for your patience! (1-2-16) I feel like I need to explain something to you guys. I know you are all, well, the readers, but I'm not really sure how many of you have been in this position before. You see, I never really thought that I'd be writing something like this. I figured that these kind of stories were funny enough to be self-published, but I didn't really think that anyone else would read them or connect with me like that, and so I never imagined myself writing a complete story for other people. That being said, I do write fanfiction, and most of the ones that I write are little more than trashy erotica with my own original characters, which I use as comic relief for these stories. (12-4-16) As far as my life in general goes, life can be a bitch, can't it? I like to imagine it to be this way, because it seems to make me feel a little better about everything. So here goes nothing. (12-7-16) Okay, I'm feeling better about myself. I'm still a bit sad all the time. I know it sounds depressing, but it's reality. My true self is scared sometimes, or maybe a little depressed sometimes. I really don't know, but there's definitely something about writing fanfiction that makes my mood different for the whole day. Sometimes I feel okay, and then, oh, fuck it, I just feel hopeless and sick. And I get suicidal. Again, it's very depressing, but reality hits me and I'm miserable. I really don't know where to start, to be honest. (12-8-16) After a short walk around the neighborhood I headed back to the house. I sat on the steps with the books in my lap and let out a sigh. When I was first getting into it, I was still very naive. Things have changed, and I've changed with them, and there's no going back now, which should probably frighten me a little. (12-9-16) I'm not totally sure that I've written anything like this before, and there's actually a pretty good chance that I won't. I was almost completely influenced by Let's Play videos and the creative writing community. It's kinda why I got into writing, to begin with. When I was younger, I think it was like seven or eight. Like, I had seen Let's Plays, and, naturally, I had watched other people play the games. I had that same stupid flair for writing because I used to always listen to music and pretend to write to whatever songs I was listening to. I was writing because I wanted it to feel like I was writing. I didn't even realize how much I was influenced by other people until someone taught me that the premise behind video games was totally wrong. (12-10-16) Oh. I'm sorry, guys. I forgot that when this story started, I was writing under the name "BaconCats." I've used that username for some of my own works, but lately I've been thinking of separating myself from that alias and using the correct title. That's why I decided to change it, and I started writing this, like I said, under my own name. (12-12-16) My art stuff has been growing lately, and right now it's all over my facebook profile. It's hilarious! Hopefully one day I'll actually be able to do my art properly. I love my work, though, so I'm sure it can stand on its own. However, I think that future chapters will feature actual animation scenes. I think it's easier to think in visual terms than it is in text, so I suppose it's possible. But it's kind of hard to say; I've never tried it before, and I don't know what to expect. I've spent the most part of the last few days in front of a computer or a device, so, sorry, I haven't drawn in an anime style in a while. No pressure, though; I don't really like drawing for someone else, I think it takes more focus than writing. (12-13-16) Of course I'm writing now, as you can probably tell. The reason for that is mostly because I don't want to wait until the next chapter to post anything, and I hope that you guys don't mind. We all know that I put a lot of work into these, you know. If I could do it all over again, I'd write in a different style, because I haven't had to do any actual drawing for a long time. Yes, we all know that I've been trying to draw Naruto in a variety of styles, but whenever I do, they're basically for my own amusement. Like, when I'm drawing to play the games and I'm bored, I'll try to draw Narutos instead. Then when I'm a part of the fandom and I'm not playing the games anymore, I'll switch to Shouyou. When I'm talking to people in my stream, it gets all over my Tumblr, but that's the only place I post it at the moment, so I figured I might as well keep it up. (12-14-16) You will see more of me in future chapters, if you ask me. I don't want to give it away with new chapters every week. I want to keep this as low key as possible, and I think it'll work out in the end. Also, don't think that I'm only posting one update every two weeks. I've written one of those so far, and it wasn't a particularly successful one; I'm already half-way through the next one, so I hope that'll turn out alright. Just, you know, hopefully be a surprise for you guys. (12-15-16) I want to be very clear with you. I don't write straight for my own enjoyment, or for my own enjoyment only. As stated above, I write for the sake of entertaining others, and nothing else. I hate being told what to do; I want to do my own thing, and if I don't like something I write it, and if I really don't like something, I'm not gonna write it. If I do write something that I don't like, I'm trying to make the change happen. I'd rather not write something just to play it safe and not try to improve it. What I mean is that I write for myself and my fans, and don't write just for fun. If I do, then I'm writing to get attention, so that means I can look better in reviews. Plus, I thinkUsing high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context   He was in a very good mood that day. A not so good mood, and a really uncomfortable one, but a good mood. And Tom, although he had his doubts, he couldn't help but feel that actually having to deal with a Minister who was emotionally unstable was rather entertaining. How often did he make trips from the small village to attend meetings at the City of London? He could do this a lot more often than required, especially if the weather wasn't so bad. While at first, the long winter days were driving him crazy, he noticed that after a while they were almost giving him an immunity to being cold; though that didn't mean he was actually enjoying it. His days were still full of the faint aftermath of the war, of his parents deaths and wounding, and occasional bursts of anger when something, someone, didn't go right for him. It was like he'd never have had to face such things because of his ascension to the most powerful place on earth. But now he was finally in charge of actually managing to live his life; the new rules didn't mean he lost control of himself and failed to protect the innocent, the weak or the innocent in general. Besides, his memories of the previous regime were just enough to get him carried away. Now Tom managed to get himself under control around people he was supposed to work alongside. To be honest he wondered how well on he would be after a few days spent doing nothing but watching government affairs and listening to pointless speeches. A man of the cloth, a royal non of the Metropolitan police, and people used to are subject to his whims and desires in a time where royal power and privilege was still but an important part of society. After his first full day in office, which Tom thought to be going pretty well, but still, his mood got progressively worse. Normally people were happy to see him at the Palace, but at this point of his tenure, the public was so used to the sight of him that they were afraid of him. There were rumours that Tom wanted to become King, but the smile on his face showed that any such plans were thrown out the window. In addition, there was a very strong feeling in the air that he might be replaced, whether that was good or bad, by someone else very quickly. Even though Tom was used to the idea of being fired and taking a new job at any time, this was an entirely new situation, where even though he had been in charge for years, it was still the first time in his career, and his suitably British sense of humour may have been thinking a bit exaggerated. At this point, it was too much to hope that the new person would be able to transform him from his current frowning wreck into an articulate, well-mannered realist that would take on the role, a role that had proved to be one of his greatest strength and had sustained him throughout his entire career. In one case, while working in someone's office as a small group of volunteers who lived not far from the Tower of London, they heard something that would certainly make Tom stop in his tracks, if he wasn't already deep into a peaceful pipe of meditation. A senior member of the royal staff had apparently been summoned by his ward and wife to discuss the security of the family, her movements and the way they should act, or not act, in the coming election. The situation, as had been reported was quite extreme, as the woman had been forced to leave by the father and daughter's request, as his daughter had used an apparent rumor, and tried to gain access to a priest in order to find out the validity of the rumor. One point, however, was pointed out in the report: The members of the household had also confirmed that they knew of another woman who called herself 'Priestess' and who had been having questions from the media about the validity of the rumor she had spread in order to get closer to a Templar Knight. In the minutes it took for the Chief Counsellor to read the report to the two most prominent members of the household, Tom could easily identify it. It was a bit of a laugh for his ears, and of course he had no intention of sharing with them how he had no intention of taking part in this necessary discussion, when his primary objective was to see the problem cleared up before anyone else got hurt. He didn't think he could be, anyway. So what had apparently happened was, the ward had thought it would be safer if there was someone who had a lower level of information to her, capable of keeping her safe, than someone less related to him, someone who she could rely on to report anything, which was precisely what the Priestess had done. Her name was Pamela, and if the family is concerned, she did indeed seem to be the mastermind behind the entire attack. As chief counsellor he could only assume that the house needed to know who was in charge, who had the primary responsibility in order to keep their Mother's secrecy, and the location of 'the weapon'. Tom leaned back in his chair, examining the report. In the beginning, he'd found it a great relief, that someone, and with only general details about the situation, said. The important thing was that nobody mentioned his name when trying to get close to either of them, as if he were a tool or something to be used. He was good for one hell of a laugh, and rather enjoyed all the light reading that had been happening inside his mind. It had been one of the many goals that had been set for him on the day he was to take over as chief. After sitting down, he decided he had to speak up. It was a rather amusing situation, but what did he think he would get if he spoke out? A rash of dismissal and accusations that he had, at some point, started out right next to the line that he needed to stick to. If there really were to be a new person in charge in the household, and if the report he'd been reading was accurate, then surely he needed to be the one to be given the responsibilities, rather than some loyal servant to the Crown? In his view, he had been very lucky in his role in the Tower; in the past he had never received any kindness, and had always suffered and had gone through many hardships to become Chief. What did that make him now? Was he expected to be some sort of rock, strong and unbreakable, immune to criticism, steeled to the weak just because of some family background? This was a look on his own family members, who he had not seen too often in the last 20 years. They looked at him with distrust and almost always with confusion, how he could have come out of there after being all alone for so many years and living with the knowledge of torture, murder and secret murders, while at the same time he was supposed to rise above it all and deal with it calmly. He couldn't ignore it. It had to be dealt with. Without saying anything, he thought he'd share what he thought was in the interest of calmness and strength, which was why he had the best intentions to bring up these issues to the new ones he would be asked to come in as a new Chief. Well, he had the worst luck of all, and it was all because the new people wanted a calm version of him to rule, where they were prepared to follow him into all kinds of situations because he had been there the entire time, and they preferred their superiors to be experienced and kind, with the ambition to succeed in every situation. Tom was a capable leader, only needing to rely on his knowledge of situations with other people, and making him want to prove himself through his own performance. He wasn't exactly the most inspiring leader, as his ruthless approach sometimes had been called, but he knew how to get the job done, and he did it without having to resort to violence, and with the authority and strength that came from never having faced such a situation to begin with. Before his mind could run away with him, another door appeared, and with a snarl, he pushed it open, but his hands shook as he tried to open the other door. This one, it would not open without a push, forcing his body to trip on the box that the mage had asked him to use. The home now shone brightly, and the walls were adorned with bold colors. Dark red, black, white and white decorated the furnishings that surrounded the entrance. The bedposts were being pulled away from the wall in order to allow the rug to be moved from the bed. This was rather pleasant, as all of the servants should not have to deal with a bed that was higher than the fireplace. He could hear that one of the maids was sitting near the door, dressed in loose sleeves and breeches, with what appeared to be an olive green tunic. However, he had so much trouble opening the door, that the mage had come to work with him to help with the problem. One of the doors was opened, allowing the Mage in the doorway to pass in order to find himself facing the Master's personal room. Rather than being surprised, he was more than glad about it, as he'd really liked the idea of having Tom in here. It seemed to be much easier to discuss issues, since he was not forced to read his mind all the time anymore. Perhaps, he could do with more of that, and less making personal appearances in front of others. He got up and went in, figuring there had to be some written instructions that would allow him to reach out and touch the other person, to say words and persuade the other not to continue this plan of his. He couldn't do that, in the end. There wasn't any other way, he thought to himself, but he would be grateful if he could reach someone who would agree to be able to perform that. Unfortunately, the results were disappointing, and he didn't even get to open a lock. Once inside, he turned his head to see another person, quite a taller one, who had a look on his face like he was taking a task quite seriously. The man did not seem to want to be interrupted by the mage or any of his abilities, only by simple words. "You are now a prisoner, Tom, imprisoned in this house for no reason. You are not allowed to leave." He said, rather loudly, in a strong voice and voice he would know all too well. That made the wizard grow quiet, and his suspicions about the situation quickly became clear. When he was brought here for petty reasons, he had been treated in the most deplorable ways, with subtle manipulations and tricks, rather than being treated with respect, with confidence, but that had never stopped the man before him from trying to bite back and act with his power. He leaned back against the wall as he contemplated what he had heard, and knew the man already had the upper hand in the situation, something he was supposed to be more than capable of handling, if someone were to put up a fight. "Are you going to make me believe I'm a spy from another country?" He asked, though the answer was rather obvious, the man already knew the answer and was just using it as an excuse. He now wasn't sure if he was ready to say more, but he needed to at least learn what else to do, and he did, with the following statement. "I am a nobody from a dictatorship, and I didn't have the right to leave a better life behind. This was the only way to be put back together again, and despite of what you think, it doesn't mean I am a spy. I wanted nothing of you, and everything of yourself is gone now, in favor of something you cannot even begin to understand, and I wish to go back, back to being who I am now, and who I will be forever more." Tom now noticed that the man did not want to let him go, but the mage still did. "Do you think you can escape it without not saying you were wronged in some way? I think you'll find out tomorrow." The man shook his head, which made the Mage instantly wonder about what he thought he'd found in the room, because of the sight of the man standing behind the desk, dressed in flowing white robes. He saw something like light in his eyes, and then he was speaking. "I know what I did, and I know what I'm supposed to be. I know, and I refuse to live under the rules of your kind. I want the choice to decide my life, so that you can stand down and simply walk away from it, when I'm done." He added, cutting into the Headmaster's speech without breaking into a single word. Tom watched the man, until his eyes widened, and he realized what he had gotten himself into. He didn't know what to think, but even so, he didn't hesitate to try it. He easily discovered that he could make his own decisions now, as the man was the only other one, and that was what mattered. "Let me go," he said, extending his hand towards the man. "It's not up to me to force you into anything, even though I haven't figured out exactly what I'm supposed to be doing." His tone was calm, and he hoped that if he gave the man some form of resistance, he'd remain calm enough to try his luck. "You may enter, at your own discretion." It almost seemed as if the man was a bit disappointed by the gesture, but that was his own fault, for waiting. Tom knew better than to get angry, not when he could avoid it, but he could't think to stop the man if he wanted. He approached the man, much closer than the recent interaction, and reached out his hand. He tried not to make it seem threatening or predatory, just a normal day's job. "My name is Tom, and I'm a mage from a dictatorship, and I told you that I'm interested in returning to my former life. I thought you'd be eager to meet me there, and I hope you realize that I'm not here to cause trouble, either, because I don't want to have to play games if I want to see you again. Nor am I here to cause you grief, or harm anyone, just to make sure that you'd tell us everything, so that we can take care of you." He gave the man a curious look, which was plainly accompanied by the desire to open the locks on the door himself. The man shook his head. "That is not what I wanted at all. Not that I'd be willing to talk, I don't believe I can tell you, and after hearing about your kind, I realize how evil they are. I can not just trust to speak to you, to tell you the truth, but I promise that I won't keep anything from you, and if you have information that would help me, I'm always open to hearing about it. I'm also not happy with your kind, for what they do. We've been fighting them for years, and you want to give us our freedom? I think it's not too much to ask of you to protect us, not so long as you know what you're doing." He gave the mage a threatening look, and Tom knew well the man's suspicions, but wondered why he could risk his life for a pack of men. He started to turn around, ready to strike, when a thin line of magic appeared, darting from Tom's hand and into the man's, disrupting the connection between them. "You can walk away from me." The man looked like he was about to punch Tom, and with a sigh, the Headmaster found a way to convince himself that the man was really wrong. For now. "What can I do for you, when you said such nice things about me?" The man looked doubtful. "Well," he started, looking around, then at Tom, "we don't really know each other, anymore. But you seem to recognize me? Aren't you mad about that? Is that what you do when you don't know a man's name?" He flicked his hand at the small, wrinkled, dead-eyed face of the Mage. "It's been a few days, for me, since you sent me away, and in those days I've noticed, you've grown quite stiff. Do you still like it that much?" Tom laughed. "That's not the point. You could have hit me any time you wanted to, and if that was the case, we wouldn't be here to talk." "And we are talking, aren't we?" "Well, we have to get you back into the school, and to be honest, I wouldn't mind taking you back. If you've changed your mind, or if you don't want to come back, I can assure you that you don't have to stay on these grounds any longer. But I should point out, that you're welcome in any of our schools, and I would not object to your staying if you want to, but I don't knowUsing high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context honestly i dont even think he cares, he's done his share of that, but this is a long fucking boring stretch of fucking bullshit with no real winner here" "*you think?"* "i mean, i dont understand your dilemma, i know you have to have an idea of what the deal is and you know its going to be boring but whatever" "how can you possibly tell someone that their team will be that boring? That's ridiculous" *then you will realize that the fuckers who make a living off of taking it easy on other people are the ones who get off on long stretches of boredom, also you will realize that your paycheck depends on your productivity, not on their jokes.* "i'd think some sort of a warning might have been better, but yeah ill be fine, sorry for being the source of all these worries, everyone has been super nice this morning, but yeah we're probably going to lose again tonight." "*You think so?" * "yeah, i don't know about that, but i don't think much can go wrong, right?" "okay, well since you seem in such a good mood im going to go make sure the floor is clean, because i'm gonna need this place cleaned out even if nothing happens today, before i start cleaning up other stuff since you know" "okay. thanks for keeping me in the loop, you're really kind of important here, you're my friend, and you're the only reason i feel like i can do this job right, and you're my boss, i mean i would be okay just letting you take my fucking job and be happy with it, but that's not really how it works, so thanks for keeping me in the loop, but i guess i should probably get on with cleaning aswell, idk what else i can do" "what the fuck does "doing it right" even mean?" "its like cleaning cars or cleaning streets, its not something you think of doing everyday, so i don't even think it matters either, it's like...chucks, i dunno, you just gotta fucking love a job" "fine, i guess that makes two of us and you in the middle." "nah, my ass is to the streets, i can't be at the locker room when they come out and i've got to live with it, and when my ass is at the street how am i supposed to be any good at that shit anyways?" "you don't have to do it alone, you can always make a friend, i have a lot of experiences cleaning houses" "oh, but i can be doing it better." "i don't think so, i know you aren't, but at least help a fellow guy out in doing this, why are you wasting your time?" "i can't help where i've been, i'd be a jerk if i tried" "haha I bet, really though the best thing you can do is get to know him and try to learn from him, figure out what makes him tick, give him a little push once you figure him out." "well i know enough now, so im going to give it a shot." He was still walking, so the door clicked open. Curt was at work, that's what ever, and he saw them right away, JB and JB alone in the room, and he knew what to say. He made it a point to see them often, usually as a memory and a reminder of past success. He hoped that his words would be understood, but it was clear that they werent. "Hey guys, so sorry for not showing up last time around, just happened to catch this game on tv and it's been fun and then today, haha" "hahahahaha okay. thanks for coming, i will remember that, and have a good day for you." The source of half the room groaned, and Curt immediately wished he didn't say anything. "so are you saying I have a crush on JB?" "yes you have a crush on him? why?" "he seems nice, thinks you're cool." Curt knew that was a lie. He definitely wasn't cool. And he didn't think he'd have ever spoken to him if he actually had a crush. He figured that person would have liked him, but the way things were, he didn't want to be that guy. He didn't have any sort of reason to tell him how the man used to treat him, and he probably wouldn't be back, so... "yeah well, you're not. of course. really, you're my friend, so yeah i think so, although i don't think you have a problem with it either. but yeah, that's what ive been trying to tell you, see you soon, be safe." "lol ok. i'll see you later." That's the last thing he said to them, and he was gone, jumping into his car. /chapter content Chapter 10 ---------- Chapter Notes > Sorry, i've been kinda busy with work and life lately, so many people have been asking for another chapter. Well, here ya go, hope ya like it. > > See the end of the chapter for more [notes](#endnotes10) chapter content **[from me as a newbie]** Curt woke up early, rubbing at his eyes and yawning like all the others, he didn't know why it was even possible. He'd barely slept at all over the past 2 weeks and was pretty much doing nothing but watching tv, listening to music and relaxing. There was no room in his schedule for doing anything else, but he couldn't even fathom being tired, so he did nothing at all. The day finally came along and his phone started to buzz, he rolled over to his side to see the time, it was 7 am, and in the blink of an eye he'd be opening a case. He had been doing this for about 5 years now, and somehow he never had the patience to wait for it to ring. In all the years he had been doing this, he'd never received any voice mails from his clients, nor phone calls, and had only received a few text messages, but then again, he had almost always been on the clock at some point during the day, i.e. business hours. The first several years were easier, they didn't require him to put up a website or anything, but since he had two that didn't allow him to receive anything, there was no reason to wait, and he really didn't like being that guy. After a couple of months, he just started ignoring his phone, hoping that no one would call and he could go back to being a normal part-time clerk. Nowadays, his days were filled with much more than just jobs, most often he was spending his time working or hanging out with his friends. Even the days he did not go to work, he would go out with his girlfriend on patrol, which was pretty easy since she couldn't make time to be at work, but he still did his job normally, and wouldn't go out with his friends unless he was there to check up on them. At the moment, he was waiting for something to come through regarding his latest client. The clicking noise from his phone stopped abruptly, and he scrolled down, wondering what this might be. To his dismay, there was one less text message from his last client, and he read it out loud to himself. *'im going to be done by the time the sun rises, want me to say bye to you before then so you can get your ass home by the time the sun goes down? I don't care if it takes me 1 month, 2 months, or 3 months, just don't leave, idunno who else will you call on to take your place.'* It was a reference to a scene they'd seen in a movie once, he wanted to really do some research before he accepted this case, so he scrolled through and found the article from back then. '*Second_Eye_Golem 20:48, November 28th 2018, 23:00 SH'* "Oh." At the sentence he scrolled back up, and sighed a bit. '*Aww, he was handsome'* "Woah, that's pretty awesome. I definitely will look him up, but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." "Sooo how long is your case?" "as long as it takes." "Hm, great. I'll see you then, say you're going home?" "hm, alright.. excuse me.." With that, he scrolled over to the next message, he saw that his client was going through a short case this time around, he was willing to wait for the payment to clear up before he went home, and already it was getting quite late, and he needed to be somewhere before then. '*I'll be back tomorrow, so hang on to your butt.'* "I'll wait for you." *'haha go home, i was asked to call you back..'* "Okay, well enjoy your time here and save your video game money," he scrolled down again, checking the time on his phone. '*'* "Ah, oops.." He decided not to read the rest of the message, just replayed the first part he read out loud to himself. After the first message, he was so tired, it hurt to wait to hear anything back from a client, but to see the next text was almost like torture. He groaned in frustration and stood up from the couch, removing his clothes as he went, and making his way towards his closet. If he wore shorts today, it would have been embarrassing. There was definitely going to be one day where he looked ridiculous. This was definitely going to happen. He smiled when he opened the closet, he usually had his outfit setup in his uniform so he wouldn't have to remember this stuff, but these clothes were from before he was promoted, he was lucky he had all his clothes cleared out by now, which was often times, because he spent his days cleaning and filing things, so he always had his clothes ready. He shoved his clothes into his duffle bag, one that was even bigger than his regular one so he wouldn't feel too inadequate looking sloppy. Hopefully he wouldn't ever look sloppy in those clothes. He walked to the elevator and pressed the button for the floor he was in, and jumped straight into it, waiting for the doors to open. "Afternoon sir! I'm going to be honest, it's been a while, but after a close call I really need to make sure I can do my job properly and that this case is all taken care of, so I'm here to take your call!" he heard a voice behind him, and when he turned around, he looked into the office door and was shocked to see Shiro stood there as well, and the blonde was holding the person he'd given the case before him. "Uh, Mr. Ayumu! We... uh, are going to have a little talk." "Oh..." "Are you really going to do that?" "Well, uh, I've... I uh.. had a lot of trouble with you over the past few months. I, uh, never even realized how bad we were." "How so?" "I know I talked a lot about our relationship, and how you let us talk to each other and... and try to get better, and, well, I thought you did that because you needed help, and you didn't want to disappoint me, I never expected to be in a position to understand how much you hate your job, how hard it must be for you," he trailed off, remembering how easily Shiro used to lie to him. "Well, I'm not going to say that your work life is easy, but it's going to get better, I'm certain of it." "I have a job, like all of you do, but I'm not stupid enough to think that it makes everything better, because that's not the case. You've proved that many times before." "Very well, I won't lie to you, but my personal life doesn't have any bearing on my work life, but the others should? I'll try my hardest to not go around making myself a target, but I'm not at the point yet where I can know what happens behind the scenes. That I'm sure of.." Shiro furrowed his eyebrows a bit, his blue eyes narrowed on the blonde, who smiled warmly. "Okay, I'll give you that." "Thank you, I will do my best, Mr. Ayumu." "Would you rather have you continue to lie to the press and the public, or do you want us to keep the subject fresh and relevant?" "Heh, I've been trying not to think about it, but I just don't want this to fall flat or become a closed wound. It's difficult, but I can do it, and I can do it well, I know I can!" "Good, you have nothing to worry about. You've always done the right thing, but this is a chance to get out from under your own skivvies. The only reason why you're still working is because I helped you with your promotion, and I'll never stop doing that." "Thanks, but it's just... it's... it's not something I have to deal with every day, and... but the pressure has been piling up since I've been stuck on this case. Just, being on the roster is the only thing that keeps me from having to keep dealing with everything, from having an excuse for why I have to focus on the latest game I played. Just... I just want it to be over. I'm sorry to everyone who thinks I'm the problem, because honestly, I could use someone who can handle this case like this, someone who understands. And, honestly, if it wasn't you, I'd be pretty happy with a member of the squad who was willing to do this for me, someone who's been there for me since day one. But it's just... I've had to fight so much for a bunch of bullshit reasons, I wanted to know why, I wanted someone who understood, and I knew I had to follow this path." Shiro smiled. "It's fine, that's all part of the job. It's hard, but when you're in the field, everyone has their situation. Some have made it through the pain, some dealt with many more reasons than others. The truth is, you made it through the pain, you found a way to find closure. You deserve everything good in this world, and you worked hard for it. So let me help you out, and help get out of this hellhole of a life." "Thank you, Mr. Ayumu." He felt cold sweat drop down his spine. "You too." He heard another laugh, and he was thankful that Shiro was able to smile back. "I guess we both knew it would be a long time before we had a good conversation. I'm sure you're here for the long haul too, Mister. Once I'm sure I can handle it, I will either retire or we'll move to another situation." "I'm willing to be here forever, at least until I can handle myself." "Well, that would make it easier, wouldn't it?" "Not necessarily, but... I might just help you in whatever way I can. As long as you don't mind." "Oh. Okay. If that happens, I'm still fine with it, alright? There are things that I need to learn, and I know I can't jump in without knowing exactly what I'm getting myself into." "I'll do my best to answer all of them. I promise." "As long as you don't forget what's important, the only thing I care about. Also, I can't put this on you." "Doesn't your safety mean more to you than the rest of us?" Shiro gave a short laugh. "No, because you've been patient with me for the past four monthsUsing high-speed tokenizer attach_debugger print_status freeze_forever quit save_and_quit clear_context /chapter content Chapter End Notes > "Look, I know you said no sex," you chirp as you pull the keys from the pocket of your slacks. "That's fine. Just not going to talk about it and doing nothing and being the good little maidservant." You say with a smirk. She smirks back at you and slides into her slot in the kitchen island. "Okay, can you tell me who I'm supposed to be?" > > We need a vampire version of that scene, what do you think? > > Chapter Sixteen ------------ Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes16) chapter content You wake up in the middle of the night and all you remember is your room full of a dozen copies of the same old episode of Scandal, watched over by the cockiest, most cynical spin doctor you've ever had to play for. You hadn't been able to sleep so much that you get up, still wearing your jumper as you do every morning. But this time you've reached the point where you can no longer keep your eyes open for more than two seconds. You're actually planning on sleeping through the rest of the episode by now. So you pester your nurse into getting you something, anything, and she says you can have chocolate if you want it. You have two sips, while you know you will regret this choice, and two bites later you choke back the groan that follows. Molly smiles and pats your back until you relax. You lift yourself off the sofa and look around, turning the light on to let your nurse know you're awake. By the lights your room looks a lot less depressing now that the patient bed has been replaced with a standing desk. You go about doing some paperwork in front of the desk for a few minutes, but you aren't sure where you ended up anyway. You look up to find Molly staring back at you. "You don't look like you've had a bad day, darling." She leans down and gives you a hug, squeezing you tight in return. It takes you a moment to adjust to the head count of seven in your room and the odd sense of being watched. After a few minutes, you both go to the living room. "Good morning," you mumble as your nurse greets you. "Everything okay?" "Yes, dear. Yes, it's fine. You'll be happy to know I've taken to treating you rather well." She replies as she dresses. "Huh." You sigh. "I wonder what's wrong with me? Do you think maybe I did something wrong?" "It's possible. Though, I'm sure it's a one-time thing. But, that doesn't mean that it's not hurting you sometimes." You take a long sip of your tea, which tastes strange and weak. "Do you think you can eat anything for breakfast?" "I should really ask my nurse that. My friend brought us some toast and milk, a chocolate bar." She nods. "Though, if you ask your nurse something like that she'll always tell you that your body tells you when you're hungry, and they love to nag at us. So, I think you can take it or leave it." You take another sip of your tea and feel the bitter taste intensifying as the flavor starts to bother you. You notice how Molly's thumb strokes across your bottom lip, just making sure you know she's thinking of you, and before you know it, you're palming her pinky and letting her touch your lips. She giggles. "You naughty little girl, I need you to stop that." You barely bite your lip, and it draws more attention to you, though you manage to hide your embarrassment. "It's just my fingers. I won't hurt you," you explain with the smallest, but most convincing smirk. "In fact, I'd say I really like you so far." "Oh… I… I… ahhh… I'm sorry." You swallow hard and exhale slowly. "Well, good. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Molly, for her part, laughs and tries to brush off your criticism with a chuckle. "Nonsense. Your lips are too cute. I can see why you were so upset yesterday." She leaves you to stand outside her door with a frown on your face. "You… you said something weird." You shake your head, ignoring the pouting frown on your face. "Will you let me talk to you about it?" You try to make yourself forget about your awkwardness, but it isn't entirely easy. "Why would I?" She's so serious, it's almost painful to watch. "No, I am going to let you know why I am, because I didn't know what I was doing. There's this thing I found online called the internet. That's why I found out about you from my friend. I do believe she has a knack for knowing things about people that I don't have, and I wasn't the only person who needed someone to talk to about him. Now, does that answer your question?" "Yes," you laugh. "And I thought you knew about how we met." "Huh? Wait, why would you think that?" You try to play it off, but your doctor can tell you a story better than you, and even though she seems relaxed you start to tense up. "Have you met my husband yet?" "I…" You huff. "I suppose not." You sit down on the floor next to the couch. "Look, I don't know what to do. This isn't a joke. What if he doesn't like me?" You stare at your feet. "I just… you can't tell him nothing. He might come to hate me. At least I know you." "Meh," She grins at you. "And I can't sit here and be bullied like you are right now, sweetie." You shoot up and tug at her sleeve. "Is that why you brought me to see your mother? To get my back?" She meets you halfway. "Why do you think I invited you here? You're the one who tried to kiss my boyfriend." "I… I've never given it any thought, sir." "Honey, you came up to the hospital yesterday with that boy to get his back in high school. I saw everything when he kissed you and that ruined everything for you, alright? And I bet it's killing you." "You… you guys were supposed to be friends!" You giggle. "Who knows when I'll ever see him again, if ever." "Are you serious?" She eyes you. "I don't know. I can't imagine him letting anything happen between us." "Well, I can't imagine him ruining your life either," you jest. "But… it doesn't work like that for everyone." You pinch her shoulder. "What if this is a one time thing?" She looks down. "Surely there's something I can do? It seems like a game you've decided to play. But I guess you weren't very generous with that loser once upon a time, huh?" You think for a minute before nodding. "I want you to know that I care." She knows that you're not going to give up, and she will fight for you all the way. She cares about you more than you would think. There's a long pause and, even though you're tense, you relax. "Well, thank you." You take a breath. "Let's find out if the game works. How do you feel about kissing me again?" "I think I know you better than that." She smiles at you. "Well, let's see what happens." /chapter content Chapter 2 --------- Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes2) chapter content You spend the whole day with her and Molly. You don't even notice that the day has passed until you hear her whisper in your ear. "Dr. Watson?" You look up and smile. "Sorry. I had to run off to get some medicine. You must be worried about me." Molly shrugs. "I'm fine. For now." You groan. "It's been at least two weeks. Stop being so uptight." "Ok," she smirks at you. "Now I need you to put on a nice shirt for me to pull you out of the shower." You mentally picture her black t-shirt and adorable necklace under the water as you feel horny and nervous. You don't need a shirt and you don't want to go to the office for another day. "Fine." You settle into the chair and pull off your tight dress. "I'm just going to put this on." Molly chuckles. "So sexy," she says and stretches her legs out while you pull up your shirt. "You should see the way your nipples bounce. Wow." "Hehe," you laugh. "Do you see them bouncing like that?" "Hmm?" She sits up and reaches out to stroke your abdomen. "Yes," she says. "I know they do." Her hands move lower and she feels you through your underwear. "You're beautiful." "Thank you," you say, but you can't help but grin. "Because if they don't bounce I probably won't be getting laid today." You sit back down in your chair. "If they don't it's because it's too damn cold for you." "It is, sweetheart. Just not now." You pull the flannel up and hold it out to her and you take it off and toss it. She gives you a single glance and then slings it over her shoulders. "Do you have any plans? When is Friday and when are you free the weekend before?" You pull off your pants. "I thought we could do something on Friday night." She leans across the chair and gets on all fours. "I'll be back at seven to make dinner." She pauses as if deciding on something. You wish you knew what she was thinking. "How about dinner?" "Um…" You blush. "I don't think it's so good for you to stay up so late." "What if it's pretty late?" She tilts her head. "Do I keep my mind from being under the weather longer?" "You should eat it before I can. It's going to make you eat a lot." "Too bad I'm not a computer." Molly pouts. "You'll be fine." You hear her switch on the kitchen light and pull up your underwear. She hands you a box of cereal. "No thanks. We're good. I wanna go home." "Not gonna drive or do anything silly like work late? You'll manage." "Gee, thanks." You swap your clothes and shove the cereal in your mouth. "You're still not getting horny?" "Wait, so you want me to eat it?" "You can tell me when you want to get you off." "I haven't done it with you yet." You switch back and forth. "You haven't made me like this, have you?" "Just have said things and had to agree to things in order to keep me around, sweetheart. That's kind of a new experience. You don't normally like it if I push you." "Well, I've been interested." "I didn't mean it like that. I meant you two are comfortable with me the way I am. You don't have to hide anything from me." You roll your eyes. "Are we meeting at a restaurant or is it your place?" "Neither. It's a little hinky. I don't know how long it'll last but I want to be there for you." She backs away from the doorway. "Come on, sweetheart." Molly opens your door in a storm of kisses. You run your hand through her hair and kiss her back until you hear the cabinet squeak open. Molly whimpers as you pull her through the living room. You're surprised when you notice there's food on the table. You both immediately scowl when you see the rest of your clothes strewn across the floor. You turn to find Molly spooning you into her lap. "Aren't we waiting for the others?" "They will be in no time," you grin as you let her have her way with you. "Do you want food or did you not enjoy our debauchery?" Molly laughs. "Depends on who's behind the couch watching." She leans up to kiss you. "Oh, fuck." She pulls back and pushes up your shirt. "You're insatiable." You quickly take off your own, then her heels, then your jeans and finally the bra. "Fuck." You pull Molly toward the bed and she dives into you. You're slow enough to let her settle between your legs. You glance down at the floor and watch her as you pull off your shirt. The bra is gone, she doesn't have to pretend. You pause and watch as her mouth opens and you put your hands on her tits. "This is pretty good. Don't bite me again, Molly." She smiles. "Can't. I might or I wouldn't know which one you like better." "Hmm," you say. "If I had to guess, she's had more than enough." Her shoulders shake as she moves your shirt up and off your chest. "So, um, this isn't enough?" "Not without getting you up," you say and it suddenly feels so much nicer than when you were still spent. You pull the shirt down to her ass and sit back as your hands start to work. "Can I give you something?" "You never?" "Never, sweetie," you laugh. "What do you have on or not?" "Oh!" She starts to get angry but you keep going. "Just gonna tie me up and fuck me in my place tonight. For you. I'll let you use my mouth to make us both come, but I expect better than a toy." "That's a start." You start to stroke her. "OK, so I really just need some head, or I'm going to make you moan until I come in your mouth." You keep up your bawdy comments until she's thoroughly against your cock and then you guide yourself into her wet heat. "Do you want this to be over soon? I'll beg you, sweetheart, but I don't want you to miss out on the fun." Molly's eyes are dark and lustful as she looks up into your face. "I definitely want you to make me come, take me to you." You both stop moving. "Of course. You're being so agreeable. You always have." "I don't think so," she huffs. "I'd kill my brother if I didn't feel it. If I felt pain or loss like this at all." You chuckle. "Better, right?" You bend down and start to cup her breasts. "Let me get my knot ready, sweetheart." You'll bet she's dry heaving by now. "Can't wait to get my hands on you, you know." "I know, darling. I want to feel you inside me." You roll onto your side so you can watch her as she presses up against your dick. "Will it hurt you?" "It'll give you something to focus on. You won't forget where I'm at." You smile and laugh. "Not really." "Not wrong." She grinds down and sits up on her knees. "Want me to ride you?" "Hell yeah." She steps closer, offers a hand. "I know what I'm doing, good boy. I'm a nurse." You smile and rub your thumbs up her thighs. "That was so much fun!" "Can we do it again sometime?" "Yes, love." A loud moan comes out of her throat and you watch the way she rides you. /chapter content Chapter End Notes > So, here's a warning about this chapter. It's probably going to hit just a tad harder than you guys probably expected so bear with me. I was also kind of confused by this chapter, I didn't even think Molly had given you a handjob before, but she was holding you up by your wrists and had her lips around your dick and you weren't sure what to think. I<|endoftext|> Then, because he'd always been a horrible liar, he lied again. "I'm not going to touch you," he said. "And don't you dare say I did anything but kiss you in the car. Or that we're friends." The punch line at last, but Kirschner wasn't in the mood for laughter. "All my life, I've only ever seen you as someone who wanted to be fucked. And yet, here you are trying to get me to do the same for you." He grinned wickedly, winking when he saw Kirschner's amusement. "Well, I guess I'm just going to have to make up for it." His hand started running over Kirschner's torso through his pants, and Kirschner tried to swallow back an outburst. /chapter content Chapter End Notes > Hey, guys, so I'm pretty sure I've made it through the whole thing, but if you can't handle the earlier parts I would suggest reading to the end. You'll find what you need there. > > Also, please tell me what you think! I would love feedback from you guys. Happy Reading! > > Second Chance -------------- Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes11) chapter content When she saw the new logo for the Pride de Seigneur she began to worry that he was going to go off on a rant about how the Pride de Seigneur had now officially ruined the club. When he didn't do so, however, she only watched with growing concern as he began to talk about her and her father. "So, after the previous Pride de Seigneur went down I had a meeting with the board. That's where you are now." He gave her a long, thoughtful look. "You're now Vice President of the club. Where is Sargent Kirschner?" "He ran away three days ago." He blinked. "What? You told him to go home that day!" She shook her head. "No. I told him to let the club know, but it didn't work." She looked at the school in front of them and sighed. "Now, what happened? How did he run away from you?" "He couldn't handle it, and I got worried. He refused to apologize, even though I did want him to." He paused to look her in the eye. "Did you try to stop him from leaving?" She shook her head. "Oh no, not really. You were right. That's why I sent a letter to the Pride de Seigneur." She sighed. "That was my mistake. I mean, I mean, that's what Sargent tells me, but I actually don't know if that's what he said. He seemed pretty upset about it all anyway." "Yes, I get that." He paused as if considering something. "Hey, Sarge?" "Yes?" "Remember when you told me that you were gay before the first year of high school?" Her jaw tightened at the memory. "Oh, crap." She still hadn't figured out exactly why she was avoiding this topic since she started college. "Do you remember the other night?" Her eyes narrowed at him. "How did I forget that?" He looked at her carefully. "Well, I was drunk. When the, um, MacPherson club started getting into their act in the… during the beginning, about three months ago, I joined them as well. And after we finished all our homework, I ended up taking a few turns dancing. And I saw you, and told you I was gay. After that I went to the library to study and by the time I got back I thought maybe we could have our first sexual experience. So I started following you around and then I saw you all dressed up at the club and decided to ask you out." She couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment as she tried to recall all the things that had happened between them since then. But for some reason Kirschner suddenly had a ridiculous gleam in his eye. "Ooh, s'not like that." Her eyebrows lifted in question. "That's not important." He continued to stare her down. "Look, you can be interested and all that, but you still want to be a Good Christian. So how many times have you gotten… That's it? Twice in two years, and now a third time and… What happened to the three, five, ten, twenty, fifty times you did it?" There was some muffled laughter behind her, and she mentally cursed herself for getting distracted during his story. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I've gone through periods of very intense longing, but they never lasted more than a couple of minutes. Like every once in a while I will get this moment where I will dream, and somehow, I will have a desire to just fuck you, and I'll be so overcome with desire that I can barely control myself." She closed her eyes, feeling a bit ashamed. "It's not how I imagined things could go." "I know. It's because I don't like what it does to me. I like being able to be turned on by other people, but to you I'm some friggin' voyeur." He pulled her close and she saw the hurt in his eyes when he reached out to touch her arm. "Don't worry about that. This isn't the first time I've fucked someone. It might not be the last. The average time between first and second time fucking is about three hours, and the average time from second to third time is about twelve, so I can add up each time." "Okay." He snorted, turning to look at her through lowered eyes. "When I masturbate, it's basically the same, but instead of imagining myself being so turned on that it literally drove me insane I fantasize myself doing it right next to you. And what happens?" She felt a smile twitch on her face. "What do you think?" He scoffed. "Just because you don't want to do it the first time doesn't mean you won't like it the next." There was a sudden warmth in her chest and she immediately tried to hide it. "I like you. Don't get me wrong, it can be hard to wait a week or two between fucking another person, but I've also done it before." His brow furrowed, as if processing what she had just said. "I'm sorry? I thought I just heard a sentence that probably sounded odd or even weird to you. What made you say that?" "Well," She tried to keep the humor out of her voice, especially since she was standing directly in front of him. "Have you thought about this situation even once? Sometime during that week in April? Or six months ago? Is there anything in that timeframe that has made you think that you'd like to have sex with me again?" "No." "Why not?" Her expression went from mild confusion to complete horror. "Because you don't like yourself? Or something like that? Because you're not perfect in every way?" "I'm not perfect," he said flatly. "I've made plenty of mistakes throughout my life, but I haven't figured that one out yet. In fact I'm still making them. These aren't mistakes I've learned not to make, even though I am *hopefully* doing them wrong. That person isn't me. And there's no way that I'm doing this right this second." She couldn't help but think of that conversation that she'd had with Sam about a week before, or rather, the week before that. "I know. I'm not saying that it would be easier, or preferable, but… Don't tell me it would be easier. Because if I were to give you what you really wanted, I wouldn't know that it wasn't easier or preferable." He snorted and turned to look at her, amusement coloring his voice. "Are you *fucking kidding me?*" /chapter content Chapter End Notes > Ok! > > I hope you guys are liking the direction that this fic is headed in. I've been thinking about endings for this fic for a while, but I don't really have any kind of plan other than making this as long as it can be without becoming a nightmare, so I figured why not just share. > > For anyone who is curious, here's the chapter table: > > Chapter 1 > > 20: Of Wrongness > > chapter content Lily was spending a summer afternoon, and a lot of time, at their cabin. She loved the place, actually. It was in the deep blue forest, nestled in the hills of Maine, and there was a large variety of wildlife to see and photograph. Last year they had taken a trip out to visit New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and she was pleased to find that most places in the States had been improved since then. > > The downside was that they were finding themselves stuck in the cabin for several days, which was not a good thing. > > This was not a typical day. James had actually been working on a computer earlier in the afternoon, and Lily was slowly winning the argument against the man to continue doing things by hand. She quickly discovered the joys of a new luxury item in the early morning, and without hesitation she set up a network of little drawers around the room, carefully adding items one by one. > > "Take your time," he chided as she set up the next add-on box. "And don't stop until everything is set up." > > Lily took a moment to stare at him. "This is taking longer than expected." > > "You'll get used to it." He grinned playfully and she returned the grin. "But let me say this--" > > "James." > > "Lily." > > "That's not my name." > > James squinted at her. "Oh. Oh my God. You can leave if you want." > > "No." > > He smiled. "Are you serious? I will beat the living hell out of you if you're going to continue like this. I already know how much you hate it when I do this. And besides, it's getting the job done." > > Lily sighed. "Fine." She gathered all the drawers together in her left hand, as she had never brought anything into a situation like this before. "Now I'm sure you have a few of these rooms here that I need to show you. Let me give you the tour…" > > James shook his head. "It's exactly like this one. More." > > "That's because I hate you." > > "What?" > > "To every single one of my family members," Lily muttered. "Just like this room. Which is empty." > > "Did I miss something?" he asked with a slight tilt of his head. > > "They're all in here, getting better because I don't have to make things worse." She lifted her gaze to look at him. "So… are we even going to see each other today?" > > He rolled his eyes. "No, but I think we should leave it at that." > > "Ok. And you can go ahead and take it from here then." > > James smiled. "Alright." > > "Good." He smiled back. "Let's go inside, shall we?" > > She watched him stalk down the hall towards his room. "Is that going to take forever?" > > "Oh, yes." He stopped before reaching his room. "I need to take a few pictures first." > > She smiled. "By all means." > > He slung open his bedroom door, and they entered with a wary silence. "Open up." > > Lily locked the door with a piece of plastic from the wall opposite, then crossed the room to stand in front of the door. "Do you want me to just take what you tell me right now?" > > "No." > > She peered through the opening. "Why don't you show me?" > > "For the same reason I'm not letting you open this door." > > "Then why not show me?" > > James scoffed. "Because if you want me to show you, I'll need to go through the door." He threw the plastic on the floor and glowered at her. "Tell me if I've got an idea, or I'll stick you in this corner till I do." > > "Shall I just keep looking for clues or clues?" > > "We both know which one would work." > > "So, you're giving me a hint?" > > "If you only knew." > > Lily nodded. "Okay, I can't tell you if you want to be. But I want to know. Can you tell me what to search for if you want me to just guess?" > > "Not unless I say you can." > > "Oh, really? Then I'm giving you a hint, here… I'm just going to have to figure out what it is I'm looking for. If you don't tell me, you're just wasting my time." > > "Then I'm leaving. Please…" > > Lily's brow furrowed. "If you tell me, I'll do what you want." > > James snorted. "Fine." > > Lily took a deep breath. "Okay. How do you feel about this room?" > > "Oh God, no wonder you had to put up with it. Okay… maybe that shouldn't surprise you, though, considering I asked you to make it so long ago. What the hell is that in the corner there, anyway? That's right, I'm looking for evidence of my sister's ornery personality. She never wants anything to do with my guesswork or guesses." > > "I wouldn't dare try your guessing skills on anyone else, by the way." > > He chuckled. "I've always heard that people from your family have a very short attention span." > > "Yup." > > "You were just trying to get to me?" > > She smirked. "You know I would have shown you the door if it weren't for that little tournament of mine." > > "Who *is *the person *I've got to convince to let me in? With a face like that, I've no doubt I'd get through. I mean, I'm not 100% positive that's who she is, but when I ask for a favour of mine, I expect someone to show up. You know she's my friend; she has to have a reason for doing anything." > > "I don't think it's appropriate for her to ever be involved in my life, James. So if you were asking for a favour of mine in regards to her whereabouts, she wouldn't be the person to ask. They're both waiting for me to come up with something clever. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about." > > He groaned and kicked his shoes off. "At least I don't think it's Voldemort." > > "Fuck. We're almost to the room. I think I know where the last clue is hidden." > > Lily snickered as she squinted. "Have you followed me too far?" > > "Nope." > > "So why the hell aren't you going to search for that?" > > "What do you expect me to find?" > > James smirked. "It's obvious she's not in the room." > > "Look, I won't let you walk away. Get out of there,, and have fun searching the place." > > "You never said anything to me about you being allowed to search the place either." > > "Not *that *much." > > Lily rolled her eyes. "All we needed was a hint, and I gave it to you. You're the one who decided to not <|endoftext|> > My mom and I are high school sweethearts from Wisconsin, and we've been really close friends for the past few years. Now our families have been reunited (I'll give it a year or two), but we missed each other so much that we decided to write our high school sweethearts a love letter that they could read like an epic poem. Since there was a lot of hate in this fandom, we figured at least one of us would turn out okay. > > chapter content Before Naruto started dating Sasuke, he was on his way to becoming one of the best fighters that the world had seen. He trained daily, honing his fighting skills until he mastered them. Every time he stepped into a fight, the score would raise up high, and only one of them would be standing. He didn't care about the scores or his weaknesses; he was only focused on beating the other guy. So if any girl put her hand out for him, he immediately went after her. As Sasuke found Sasuke that night, a hard slap to the side of his face made him turn around, then sweep him off his feet. The blonde glared up at him as the blonde fought back, his blade stopping a flurry of blue fireballs. 'Fuck.' Sasuke frowned, carefully punching one of the flailing, pink ninjas and sending him flying across the room. The blonde stood tall, still staring daggers at Sasuke. 'What do you think?' Sasuke asked. Sasuke gave a bitter grin. 'Did you know how much I wanted to punch your face in?' Sakura rounded the corner on Sasuke's side of the room and stood in front of the blond, squeezing his arm and holding his breath. 'When did you start having nightmares about me?' She leaned over and whispered, her voice muffled by her scarf. 'Have you not noticed my poor nervous breakdowns lately?' He growled. 'Nope.' 'Sure.' The blonde paused, panting heavily. 'Sorry.' 'No.' Sasuke chuckled. 'Think nothing of it. You're more worried about your birthday now.' 'Thank you, Sasuke.' He watched Sakura stay still as she formed her semblance, keeping the second wind away from Sasuke when the blonde jumped in surprise. The blonde glared down at her as she froze mid-jump, chakra spiraling up around her body and creating two glowing, white flames. 'What?' He demanded. Sakura grinned, still frozen in her new, playful form. 'Relax. I won't hurt you.' 'You don't need to.' Sasuke glared, making the fire disappear, and turned to the blond, who was calmly facing him, mask in place and ignoring the blonde's glare. 'Don't tell me you're not allowed to hurt me too,' the blonde said. 'Fuu...' The blonde leaned down and released a punch to Sasuke's gut that the blonde blocked with ease. 'We're different people now.' The blonde leaned in and gave a pointed, overly bright smile. 'And you need to know that you can do whatever you want without me!' 'They're different people.' Sasuke nodded. 'Me and you never used to be. It's kind of annoying.' Sasuke grunted. 'For a ninja, you really can't be that insane, Naruto.' 'I'm not telling you this because I think you're crazy. Let me get my first piece of Sasuke-kun's ass as we continue to work on your new life.' 'So you're basically telling me that I've got to get your ass hit? Come on, Sasuke. We're dating. Why not show me some respect?' The blonde huffed and shook his head. 'I don't think I can do that.' Sasuke smirked. 'But I'm only throwing a punch.' 'Exactly.' Sasuke muttered, biting his lip. 'You'd get in my way, Sasuke.' 'It happens. I didn't invite you to poke my little heart out.' The blonde huffed out a laugh. 'Hey, you didn't invite me to fuck me, did you?' The blonde shook his head. 'I think you deserve respect.' 'I guess so.' 'Are you going to beat me up today?' 'Not unless you show me some respect first. If you want me to throw punches, go ahead.' 'Fine, but you don't get off the hook with me for this.' 'Then I'll lose you for a little piece of Sasuke's ass. Again.' 'Hn, I thought you liked me.' 'I do.' 'Okay then. But you have to behave like we're dating, okay? Don't fake it.' 'For now, I'm not faking it.' 'Really.' 'Hey, Sasuke, your duty is to grow a pair of balls and take my word. If you're that insufferable, you can just go off and whine to someone about it, I'll tell whoever it is.' 'Ha, I don't think Sasuke will like that." 'Let's see you try being a damn creep and trying to kill me.' 'I don't want to do that. And I don't want to hurt you either. So let's make it a real date, as in say, a date where you give me a proper talking to and then come right back here and give me a real beating!' 'That's definitely on the tip of my tongue!' The blonde grinned wickedly, clearly having fun with the idea. '*Just*' 'Sasuke, I'm a shinobi, not a fifth year; I'm only supposed to be loyal to you. And you are. I'm still your teammate. If you want to beat the crap out of me, then I guess you can, but this isn't something to… fuck, this is ridiculous.' 'Shut up. I have to ask you something.' The blonde snorted and shook his head. 'Let me guess, love or whatever. What is it?' Sasuke had a grin on his face. 'It's a question of quality over quantity. You've gone through a lot, and it's been nice having you. And no, you don't have a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Not yet.' Sasuke shook his head, grinning. 'Nope.' 'What about people who are cool with you to date and stuff, but are still in love with you… or are there any?' 'Hmmm. That depends. Are they my… friends? I mean, well-known friends, you know?' 'What if I wanted to be in love with someone and did stuff together? Would you make me an offer?' 'What if you wanted to date a girl? Can you tell her you like her or something, and do stuff with her or something? Can you at least just hang out for a little while and find out what she thinks?' Sasuke scowled at the older boy's words. 'What if I want to kiss her and shit?' 'Then just keep kissing her and stuff and telling her how much you like her and fuck with her or whatever…' 'What if I want to be her boyfriend for real and do stuff with her and you know how much I want this and I get scared and want to fuck you up real good right here and now…' 'What if you want to be her boyfriend and do stuff with her and you want her to really like you? Is that alright? Maybe you could say you like her or she likes you and fucking do things?' 'Good lord, Sasuke, you really want to get me all worked up, don't you?' 'Just tell me you like her or something like that.' Sasuke shrugged. 'Who cares?' 'Oh, you think that Sasuke-chan would really settle for someone who has a cute face, tattoos, tats, different hobbies and all the stuff she's interested in – what's even wrong with that?' 'Who cares? Me.' 'Hmm.' 'What if I want to know if you like me or not?' 'Fine, fuck, I don't know. This isn't really funny, but you have to tell her, okay?' 'What, so you can get me all riled up then?' 'Yeah.' 'Alright. I might have to ask for her number first though. Well, no, not right now. I'm not gonna tease you about this until you tell her how you feel.' 'Sasuke, if you wanna tell her, she'd probably want to know anyway.' 'Fuck, I don't have a date, can you tell her when I do?' 'Alright, just ask her and she'll tell you. However, I'm not telling you how to feel, only that she's pretty and hot and not gonna kill you or anything… But since you've been acting weird, you should ask her out! We can help each other work through it and get what we need.' 'Right now?' 'Well, for now.' 'Oh, okay.' 'Okay, so I'll call her sometime, just know this, we don't have to… you know, date. We can talk and shit and she'll be fine with it.' 'Yeah, she'll be fine with it, and I'll get there someday. Believe me, I want her. You're gonna say yes, you're gonna flirt with her, and we'll make out and stuff and we're gonna get on.' 'Nah, I'm not gonna.' 'What about when we meet up in person? I don't think it'd work out, Sasuke. You're so much more mature and self-assured than I am. I wouldn't last a minute in that kind of situation.' 'You're over thirty,' Sasuke protested. 'I've seen some crazy stuff in my life and you're not going anywhere near that place and with anyone else, let alone someone your own age.' 'You should try them out, alright?' 'Do I look old enough to be going into the third year of middle school?' The blond shook his head. 'Wanna go out with me? Because I'm definitely not sucking as hard as you.' 'No, this isn't all for fun.' 'So who's still interested in my big mouth,' Sasuke teased. 'As far as I'm concerned, you're my mouth, and I'm not interested in anyone else,' Sasuke replied. 'Would you do this for me?' 'For sure.' 'For sure…' Sasuke smiled and chuckled. 'Hey, the night's not over yet, am I right? So… maybe you could swing by tonight? It won't be too bad, I promise.' 'You wanna come with me?' 'Yeah, I'd like that…' 'Tell me where to go,' Sasuke instructed. 'In a minute.' 'As if I can figure out where the hell it is,' Sasuke scoffed. The blonde had come to his senses, however, and went straight to his phone and dialed the number. 'Hello, it's me, Uzumaki Naruto. Hello? If you're…anywhere near there – I mean, near the institution I am currently attending, or near any of the addresses on my contact list, you know the one you wrote down when we met.' 'Hello, huh? Oh, not too long, are you in or do you not like to make out outside the bedroom with strangers?' 'I don't think I'm supposed to tell you that…' 'But I'll listen, I'd appreciate it if you called me back soon – or better yet, if you call me again and we can do this again…' Sasuke grinned. 'Not sure I can. Let's get your number first – probably I'll call you a few more times just to be safe.' 'Will you follow me?' 'Of course I will.' 'Can I come along with you?' 'Sure thing, whenever you want.' 'Alright, call me later, okay?' 'Yeah… I'll call.' 'Okay,' Sasuke sighed. 'So what are your numbers again? I mean, I didn't give you yours, but I'll give it here.' '5-9-6-4. At the safest outlet, I think. I use this one because it's… less likely to get stolen, it's more functional.' 'Good, thank you.' 'Uzu, don't you think if I told you mine, you'd die from embarrassment?' 'Ah, you don't have to tell me anything.' 'I'm not ashamed of my life, Sasuke. You see, when I was younger, I used to live like you did….' 'Sounds like the life, doesn't it?' 'Yeah, looks like I'm here.' 'Very well, you're gonna get there, so you might as well enjoy every second of it.' The blond laughed. 'Why?' 'See, I spent my time as an orphan. When I was about twelve, I started picking up street thuggery. I broke into people's houses, shot them if they were lucky enough to survive. I lost count of how many lives I ruined. These days, I'm good at this sort of thing, but back then I was still a fuckin' kid.' 'You're better at this now. Are you happy with where you are? Not knowing how many lives you've ruined?' 'I've got a lot of memories, and I'm getting better at dealing with them. Besides,' Sasuke continued, 'you don't know how many times I've had nightmares.' 'Awful ones,' Naruto murmured, then said, 'Didn't you ever wish for some normalcy? You'd like that now, wouldn't you?' 'It's not like that. Look, I'm fucked up, and I used to be, I still am. But I'm not like you, I'm not pathetic and pathetic and nothing's gonna keep me away from you, and I can't hold on to the memories forever, so come home with me, and I promise you won't have an idea what I used to go through,' Sasuke snorted. 'If I promised that, you'd be joining me right now, so how can you call me a liar?' 'Anyways…' 'I am not going to let a memory of me living a stupid life that I regret by staying away from you destroy the only chance I've had to meet anyone. I won't lie to you or ask you to believe that I was a worthless little shit to those poor fools to set their hearts on me in the first place, and I won't let some useless date ruin your heart by kissing you.' 'That's nice,' the blonde sighed. 'I guess I can see you now, Sasuke.' 'All the time, actually, Uzumaki Naruto. From back when you were a little kid, the way you moved, and how the older people would knock into you the slightest chance they got, to how you walked to class everyday, in the same clothes that you wore around your family back then. And I can't help but remember how he looked at you at the end of fourth year. 'Hey, you look good today,' he said at the end of our second year. 'There's a slight skin color difference between last year and this year, but honestly, it doesn't really matter, so I don't care.' 'Maybe I should punch him,' Naruto commented with a grin. 'But fuck, I don't have the body for it.' 'Fuck off,' Sasuke called back. 'If you want to continue to insult someone I care for then you should take a cold shower. You're the one who complains about me looking as I did from ten years ago, not me.' 'Nah, I don't mind. It makes me feel better.' 'Then try it.' 'Fucking hell, don't you think so, Sasuke?' 'Sure. I'll come home today. So why don't you try something, then, would you?' 'Okay,' Naruto muttered. 'Let's do this.' 'So you're not going to decide the next time we meet? I mean, you can just say you're busy, and I might let you go when I feel like it or whatever. Do you really think I'd give <|endoftext|> And they were free. The jungle was a nightmare and the Wargs fought as fiercely as any other creatures on Azeroth. Ash could not help but think of what their faces might look like in their new forms. They would never admit this to themselves, but his heart was filled with envy every time he came across another Warg dead in the dirt. Just like him. The alpha was still being fed a special blend of different red herbs that kept his strength up as long as possible. He huddled in the back and used his claws to dig in the jungle for food, but he did not sit for long stretches or in too close of spaces, either. The sprouting vines seemed to adorn him like armor, and the wood began to take on a green tint. The bark grew longer and thicker, and as it did so, it threw out tangled vines to hide behind. If the wind blew too hard, he would fall flat on his face. But as it whipped, he could still have a tail of vines pulling him along. It was his best defense. Ash's visit had done nothing but infuriate the Wargs. If the time that he spent with them and their queen was anything to go by, there had been little change in their current operations. Still, the coming of the ogres was most unfortunate. It was already known the Wargs were on the brink of breaking. Not only would they be at odds with them if they ever came into contact with them, but they had also become wroth with the warlock they had once considered their closest and most loyal ally. Ash watched as the ogre also traversed the jungle looking for a place to start eating. But there was not much to do. The ogres and Wargs were still living as one and on good terms, just as it was. The druids had managed to form an agreement with the ogres, so there was no question as to where they were supposed to be feeding their crops. Though there was certainly no issue with him saying it, he suspected the ogres felt quite differently about him, thinking he had personally taken them into his service. Ash said nothing to him as he walked toward the nearest tree. He understood the desire to protect, but his responsibility lay elsewhere. The Horde was busy at war, not preparing for the ogres' arrival. Ash still thought the Wargs looked up to him, though. He was now under the old ogres' employ. There was no question about it. They were never going to forget the little man who was almost an equal. Then again, Ash could not even remember when he had become a servant to the ogres. He certainly did not remember how long he had lived with them, nor when the ogres had first taken him into their homes. Ash left the area that was most likely to attract ogres, and turned to get rid of any new vines that had begun to grow. The ogres were here to feed their crop, not steal from them. It should go without saying, but when the ogres found food and attempted to shove it up their nose. He strode through the fresh growth and started to give them simple, direct instructions. They now knew that the ogres had been right. There was quite a bit more to life then the dusty forests and forgotten caves. Ash plucked an old leaf from the vine and served it up as food to the Wargs. He got two greens for himself and once again made note of how little they ate compared to the ogre's diet. But as with everything else, he did what he had to do to make sure they did not starve. Ash returned to his original command. He hated knowing all those things, but he had to make sure they would survive. The ogres were not the only ones who realized this at the present. The Wargs were beginning to return to camp one by one. Any who tried to wander off were swiftly subdued. Ash saw Sylvanas and Varian go over the plan for the assault. And only a few moments later, Arthas arrived on the battlefield with the rest of their forces. Ash followed him, wondering what he was doing. The Legion and Forsaken had never attempted a siege of Ironforge before, and the Orcish Horde had been assaulting it for several years. Ash doubted any alliance could have been made between the two warlocks and the ogres without the full knowledge of it being discovered. Yet, he knew they had learned the lesson well. /chapter content Chapter 2 --------- Chapter Summary > It started as a simple trip to check on the state of the ogres. They were already in Azeroth, preparing for their attack. After the ogres' defeat, nothing could stop them. But a Scourge army would eventually arrive, either to destroy or to take the ogres down. Ash was eager to avoid a situation where the Horde took down the ogres by force. > > Ash saw Sylvanas and Varian discuss plans for the assault. > > Ash didn't see anything interesting. Ever. He only watched the scene unfold in front of him. > > Ash lingered though as a few orcish Wargs approached. That was all that Ash could do. He wanted to stay out of the way of the battle if possible. Not that it was hard, but it would be rude to watch it happen anyway. > > chapter content It was an hour later that Ash realized his mistake. He still didn't know why he had decided to stay out of the battle. He had seen enough of it to know that the Forsaken and Legion would not allow them to go up against the Wargs alone, no matter how valiantly they fought or how much had been done to prepare them. Ash knew it was foolish to think these two warlocks would want to harm themselves or their people. In fact, he felt incredibly fortunate they had not managed it, and did not. He had gotten many lessons that day, and the Forsaken were learning quickly. > > *The Forsaken have learned what to expect from warlocks and willingly accept them.* > > They had long since been willing to work with the Horde, no matter how hostile they became. They had been told what had happened, and they knew the story. > > All that had been left was for them to take the ogres down, and that was what was about to happen. The party in front of him was a veritable (and very detailed) blueprint for an attack, and Ash believed it would be used in the future against ogres who had proven themselves the orcs' enemies. > > In another way though, it was nothing like what Ash had expected. > > The ogres stood in formation in a line, their weapons raised and their warg mounts had returned to them. An orc was chanting, his voice strong and deep. It seemed it had been there the entire time. It was a battle cry that always ended with a small spark of fear. Ash wondered if the orcs were planning to attack when they were being summoned to attack their leader. He did not want to stand out in any way, so that he would be able to escape as quickly as possible. > > The orc then ordered them to stand down. Ash saw them tense, feeling that he had commanded them to stand down, but the direction the order came from made him wonder if there was some kind of specific message he was trying to send, but that information was covered by the order being given. > > Orcs speaking in battle could be intimidating, and Ash wanted the ogres to feel as much. It would not do to fall into their trap. > > The ogres were the last to reach their leader. Ash followed with him, watching eagerly for anything that might signal a danger, and they waited as long as they wished. As it came closer, Ash kept quiet. Why? Because he knew the situation. At least he hoped so. A moment passed and then Sylvanas called the ogres' attention to an orc sitting on the ground near the ogres' line. The ogres were about to attack, and Ash, worrying, wondered if that moment would herald their defeat. But it didn't, and the orc cried for their leader and then led the others into the fray. Ash looked around, confused as to why the orc commanded the attack at this exact moment. He wasn't sure he could trust an orc now. He was good with orcs, but not now. > > Still, the orc led his men right into the midst of the Forsaken. > > Ash looked around, this time seeing Sylvanas and her soldiers standing with their weapons raised high. Once more, Ash was relieved to see his friends, even if they were a little disheveled and looking angry, and he wished he could help them stop the ogres so he could go check on the ogres. But he knew that wasn't going to be possible. If they survived this battle, they would most likely be a force in their own right, after which the Forsaken would come after them in their own time. Ash was nervous. How could he be sure that his friend was still breathing? That their leader was still running? And that the ogres wouldn't get in their way? Even if Ash could help them, that would hardly have been the purpose for which he was here. He needed to stay here, away from the battle, and watch. > > He should probably have arrived in time, and when he did, then the Forsaken wouldn't have been able to follow the ogres to the icefall. That would have meant the ogres had already been defeated, and Ash feared what would happen afterwards. > > Ash watched the warg the next orc ordered call their fellow orcs back to the body of the ogres' captain, who met them in full formation. They had learned from a few warg's that they could attack, but Ash doubted they would have moved against the ogres once they were summoned. They would have been fighting with a clear goal, and a clear battle plan, and would have beaten the ogres, no matter how poorly they fought. > > Ash was relieved when the orc called out that he would help the ogres. He said his orders clearly, and did not think the ogres would have ever attacked if they had it not been for their need for assistance. When the ogres were already attacking, Ash did not want to miss a thing. > > He was ready to take his first step away from the frozen ice and over the rock wall that divided them into their respective sides, when another orc called out the order to retreat to the cliff top. This sent several ogres to attack them, some more logically, and others with their warg mounts. Ash knew there would be only one option for him to choose; wait, or to join the battle. He gritted his teeth as the ogres attacked the last of the warg's, the soldiers began retreating and most of them were dead before he could ask for their help. > > In the same instant, Sylvanas mounted her mount and caught her men in time to warn Ash as well. > > The ogres fell, as they always did, and Ash saw Sylvanas and her army moving away from the icefall. He watched silently as they went, and when they were gone, he could wish his friend good luck and hope his friends were making the best of a bad situation. Ash sat and waited, but Sylvanas was never quick to leave. For some reason, Ash did not like the idea that Sylvanas had not yet returned. He was very sorry for her father, but he had the feeling she had forgotten the way they were so long ago. The night was cold, and the mist made every movement feel like it was made of ice. Then again, the latest battle had seemed to be a long, drawn-out affair, and it was possible Sylvanas was planning a retreat this time, as well. She might as well have been attacking him. > > They were exhausted, most of them only half-clad. Once the ogres had died, they went down in front of the icy wall, holding their ground. The voice of the next orc reached Ash's ears. He listened, tense and thoughtful, for a moment before answering, "Our position is tenuous. But, if we retreat now, it will give Sylvanas less to do." > > The problem was, what did he care about Sylvanas at this point? Ash had been lucky enough to meet other members of her family on occasion, and he had learned that they had an unwavering loyalty to the Dread Wolf. Ash hoped Sylvanas would know that, but if she did, she had obviously forgotten how Ash felt. > > The orc behind him nodded. "Stay here until Sylvanas decides to come. If she doesn't come soon, I will aid the ogres by myself." > > Ash resisted the urge to ask for any more details, and simply ordered the other three to return to him. It wasn't that he had actually given the order, but he was in command, and those below him had their job to do. The orc did not protest, and they went back up the cliff to Ash, letting the grizzled man stew. > > Sylvanas had been mad at him for killing one of the ogres, but that was over now. That was even a mild inconvenience, and he didn't know if he was surprised she'd agreed. Now she had everything that Ash could hope for, and nothing that he could care about. So Ash went over the problems. > > His own squad was a small percentage of the total, he only had two new recruits with him, and the entire orc line was composed of men he had seen on the field and over the dead ogres. His responsibilities on the battlefield were finally taken care of, and there was no problem with keeping some company with the ranks who came to help. But Sylvanas's army had twice the number, and Ash had all but forgotten that she was still someone worth defending. > > "We must hurry," Ash told himself. "If Sylvanas needs us, she will send people after us to help us." > > And he had promised. Sylvanas was taking the side of the ogres, and now Ash had been given an order to help with the massacre of their foes, and that annoyed him. It meant only a small fraction of the whole should come under his command, and yet it was taking him so long to get there that Ash was beginning to lose patience with himself. The ogres were making progress, and so was the situation to the south. If one portion of the army worked for Sylvanas, then the second part of it was an independent force with its own goals and its own losses. And because of Ash, the fate of the continent depended on his ability to lead them, and to hold them, so he would not give the southern army more time to accomplish anything. > > And Sylvanas had not been doing herself any favors, either. But that was with others, and Ash was doing his job just as well as anyone else could. Now, he was forced to do it alone, with almost no help from them, and the punishment for failure was sure to be great. > > Ash snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at his own command staff. Sylvanas was leading on his right, and his left was filled with men who wanted nothing more than to have their turn to save the day. There were many who had fought for the ogres, and there were those who had fought against them, but now the orcs were doing the vast majority of the work, and Ash was losing patience. The ogres were utterly hopeless, and the fate of the continent was no longer his to decide. > > And if not the fate of the continent, then Ash was damn well going to make Sylvanas do the dirty work instead of him. And when Ash realized what he was doing, he liked it even less. He had been quiet and patient since the first orc entered his camp, but now, he was nothing more than a figurehead for the dream he had made. He was also tired, and he could feel a slight twinge of anger. But he quickly steered that thought away by reminding himself that not every member of his charge had felt like that, and that many of them loved him, and cared for him. Ash was a warrior, who sought out trouble. Only the people who despised him had chosen a path from the start, and now they were dragging him into it. He was damned if he was going to let them take advantage of him while he was still capable of resistance. > > But he kept his bitterness as he led his troops against a line of ogres. He felt it elsewhere too, inside of himself as an almost palpable sense of betrayal, <|endoftext|> "So, I heard you've been doing a lot of research?" "Sort of. Mostly books and the internet. There's a lot of information out there now, and I just want to get it all right. I want my knowledge to be accurate. But what I'd really like is for you to be there." "You sure?" He's a nice guy, Vimes. She's got him for that. "Not if it's your idea," she adds lightly, and flushes. "It's not. I'm a fan of the books you seem to lean on so much, and even I have to admit they've taught me a lot of interesting things. You know, about dragons and dwarfs and… Well, the other stuff you're probably more familiar with than I am." "I suppose. I wouldn't say it's for lack of trying though, since the university library is a good place to start if you want to delve into the fascinating subjects." She feels embarrassed at being found out. And actually mildly nervous. "In truth, I still think you should call me Carrots, but you don't have to answer to the lizard folk." "Did they give you a lot of trouble?" "Even I have to admit they haven't… Well. Let's just say they gave up trying." He blinks, looks surprised. "You know it's not polite for someone with pure blood to kill another," he remarks, and stares blankly at her. "What do you mean?" "She was saying she didn't have to worry. Just so long as they weren't trying to steal anything, which they wouldn't, I would take them down myself. She was a mage." "And why should she have risked her life for them if she wasn't a mage?" "She felt guilty for being a slave. If she killed one of them she was sure to be shot dead by another of her kind, but if they let her go she could live. They were good people." The memory of it makes her feel sick. "So she actually killed them?" "Oh yes. Oh it made her so angry." "So. I know there's a large difference between telling the truth and lying, Vimes. It isn't always easy to tell the difference between the two, especially in the beginning. I think it would make more sense to say you know they didn't try to steal anything, right?" "That doesn't explain why she told me this story about, um. A little girl's death, I think." He puts his head in his hands again, and Vimes can see that there's tears welling up. "She had told her mother that a dragon's fire made her hair grow back!" He wails softly. "She said it was almost impossible to get wet hair! It was still alive! It hurt when it was still wet! This poor girl was dying in her mother's arms, and she just told her you *could* cut your hair if you wanted to! It sounded very appealing." He shakes his head, annoyed. "It was, and then suddenly it didn't work. " "And then?" "She was smeared over a rock, her body burned to a crisp, and still she cried for days." "She was real long-lived." "She wasn't, but she made a farce of it for months! The only thing we had left of her was a skeleton that begged for death a few times before it died in her hands!" "But, this was the early days, back when there was much less love between dragons and mages," she points out. "And where did she get that old anecdote? I suppose it was a lie meant to give comfort to someone who didn't believe in dragons or magic in general." "Yes, I know it is an old tale, but it is true! No matter what other information she has learned about mages and dragons, she has always remembered the story. Honestly, I was shocked. I thought the dragon would be terrified by the flames." "It *did* prove false though," she points out. "She pulled the scales off the skeleton and laid them on its chest. Fire and flames actually sent it into flames. When she tried the same trick with another one later, I know for a fact it came out better." "Why not put the ashes back?" "Because," Vimes snorts. "Why? Let's just say when she found out what a wizard's insignia looked like she made sure not to tell anyone. She lived to tell it. Which was probably why I took you out to dinner tonight." He freezes. "There's no reason to lie," he rasps, his stomach giving a spasm of horror. "Just because I remember… I don't think I can go through the details of it again." "No, you don't need to." "No, I do." "No, you don't. Are we done here?" "Probably," she answers defensively. "Not for a while, anyway." It's clear enough by his expression that he's caught. "Can I give you a book?" "When I already have a lot of books," he barks, staring. "Get me some of these, please." He picks up the charred bones and decides he can manage a few hours with this. "Three, give or take, I need three of these books. They'll be worth their weight in gold in a few days." He shakes his head and Vimes wants to thank him. The next morning, when he wakes, she's gone. He can hear her snoring faintly in the doorway when his horse finally stops in her pasture. He knows he shouldn't leave the horses, but he can't help himself. By the time the sun rises the morning after, he has memorized the moment he did so by heart. *** She'll never have to live through it again. /chapter content Ambition ---- Chapter Summary > The first time Vimes finds himself in a situation where he has to decide how much of himself he's willing to sacrifice to get back at someone, he realizes that sometimes, he'll do more than sacrifice himself. > > Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes7) chapter content "What I did was wrong. You knew that." "I did not," she chides him. "I didn't realize that you could forget about me and still seek me out as often as you do." "Of course I can't change your memory." "Oh? And should I feel any remorse?" "Of course not," he scoffs. "Remember what I said about wanting her to be safe? If you thought that I would forget your life, you have forgotten something else entirely. As for those scars, they are a stain of my memory." "Of course they are," she argues. "Look at me!" "Well, now, I'd say those marks are better explained than before." "I don't think any of us are going to forget what happened back then," she continues. "You saw what I did. Surely that makes you realise how dangerous this is? Not every memory can be wiped away." "Well, I'll be damned if I let it happen again," he replies, exasperated. "And if I can't see her face I can't actually forgive myself for not living up to what I owe to you." "I don't think it's so bad a thing if I forgive you for things that you've never forgiven yourself." "True. And it's harder to forgive yourself for those things if you've forgiven yourself for them." She smirks. "Even for those things, I think you've forgiven yourself enough." "Then I'm afraid we've lost that argument." "Oh? With what I have learned?" "Hardly," he says. "But I don't think many people will have a memory of you capable of a degree of reliability." "Indeed?" He smirks at her, his arms crossed. "Good point." "And I think no one who's been through it will forget it." "Well, it will make me angry." "I know," he agrees. "And that's really all it's got going for it, isn't it?" She frowns. "I know, but why are you so confident about my feelings?" "If you had told me to watch my mouth, I might have laughed," he admits. "Fair point." "Right. So, what's the other part of your lesson?" "Everything." "Okay." "Are you saying that you don't care, and that you want me to forgive myself for everything I do, and get past it?" "It doesn't mean that I don't care." "Does it make you sad?" "No," he says darkly, "though it does mean I care." "You're lying to yourself, mate." "I'm telling you what I can." "You're not! And even if you were I don't think you could possibly understand." "Do you not feel any pain for what we did?" "I have experienced pain before," he admits. "It is something I have come to know very well." "Then, how long until you feel no pain from this?" "I believe it will take several years, yes. You may feel less pain from the way I hurt you." "Is that some sort of test, or should I just accept it?" "This is the only way to know." She sighs, but he doesn't doubt that she thinks she's doing the right thing. "Vimes, I know this must sound like a terrible thing, but trust me when I say that you know you can trust me. You know I've done bad things, and you have judged me in the past, and you know I am capable of changing. You know I can change again. Trust me, but don't believe me." "I know," he agrees. "Then, here's the deal. From now on I'll let you off when I feel I've got a good reason." "What kind of reason?" "Let me tell you what kind of reason I want, or rather, what I want you to give me, because I want to start trusting you again, and you need to trust me again. Am I clear?" "Yes, of course," he replies. "I don't think we have much of a choice anyway." "Very well," she drawls. "I'll remember you, however, and you can tell me when you're feeling less pain." "As you wish," he allows, and takes her hand. "Now get dressed and go down to bed. I know you hate leaving her when you're in pain." "I will always hate leaving you when I'm in pain," she adds firmly. "We've established that already." "Well, now we've established that you won't leave me while I'm in pain, and you'll tell me when it's over?" "Exactly," she beams. "Now, get into bed and get comfortable." He hesitates, thinking of the moment when his sister has always been able to save him. She brought him back to life. He didn't get the chance to ask her to forgive him. Now it was up to him to repay the favour, and if not, he'd probably never be able to forgive himself. "Alright then," he concedes reluctantly. They go to the infirmary, and Madgvayne asks a lot of medical questions. "Forgive me, for questioning you," she says, pulling him out of bed and putting him on the trolley. "The first time was traumatic, but everything after has been..." "I know," he says. "In a word? Bitter?" "Not quite." "So what makes it bitterer?" "Because I've had to retell everything over and over again?" "Don't force yourself," she admonishes him. "Now go to sleep. You need some rest." "She's my friend," he protests. "And this is our business," she snaps. "We're not going to interfere with your health, or even the amount of sleep you need." "I'll do better?" "Very well." "Madgvayne!" "What was that?" "Just to remind you that you're allowed to keep interrupting me. It's called good behavior, Madgvayne." "Good, let's see... 'Remember that time you had to tell me everything that happened with Marigold?' 'So that last week of teatime was a thing of beauty?' 'I don't think so.' 'Why, you decided on a tarot card deck for me as I was asleep in my cot? Nah, I think it would be a good idea. What do you think?" "Now, I know I've told you that you should get some sleep," he interrupts, laughing. "But you've seen how I've been up till now. The man is not a morning person, nor a night person. I think we both know why. I know you're too important for me to allow myself to sleep. Please, Madgvayne, do yourself a favour and get some sleep. You've seen how much I love you, and you know I don't want to lose you. This is no time to snooze, I promise." "That's not what I meant." "Madgvayne," he groans. "Just listen to me. We've been sleeping for the last month and a half. Sleep, and then I'll tell you how much I love you." "Madgvayne." "Are we going to stop now?" "I want to know, I want to know," he insists. "I want you, and I want you to know what I mean by that." "Madgvayne, please!" "Yes, madgvayne, I want to hear all the amazing things about you from me. I love you," he says, and the tears are back. He never heard his sister cry, not in front of anyone, not like this. Even when she was younger and had a lot less emotional maturity, she still had the emotional maturity to take advantage of him, not only as friends, but as lovers. "And it's not just about not being able to remember certain aspects of our relationship, but also being able to recognise them in other people. They aren't all the same, and you should always see them in those particular ways. I don't always like them when they are put in their right context, which I think that's for the best, because it forces you to choose between two different types of love, which is really what you should be doing anyway. The right love is the one you choose based on the strength of the relationship, and the level of understanding, and not because they are 'right' or because they reflect your own views of what the right romantic partner should look like." "Madgvayne." "You don't have to listen to me. I know you've said that before. But you've made yourself clear. We can be happy with each other, but that doesn't have to include me going into your mind to know what you thought of me. I can know all that stuff without even leaving your head. I'm not asking you to forget things you say, but I need to know, at least in principle, if something is going wrong. And I'm willing to try, and I don't see why I shouldn't try to find the things I've forgotten, if it means I can have the sort of relationship I want." His sister stares at him for a moment, and then she nods slowly. "If you're really worried about this <|endoftext|> "That's a surefire way to make a girl want to be your girlfriend," she replied, mirroring her giggle with a cheeky grin. "And it will go down in history as the first time I've ever seen Daisy suffer through a androgynous wank." "How did you come to learn that?" Ruby asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly as she scanned her friend's face. "I'm serious about not being emotional!" "You're just lucky your mom was sweet enough to show you the ropes when you were growing up, huh?" "I don't think so," Ruby laughed, leaning on her elbows to see that she wasn't being completely uptight by this point in time. "But since you're not opposed to hearing me get off on someone else, I don't mind sharing." "What's she like, anyway?" "She's a sweetheart," Ruby conceded, fingering the tip of her foot between two fingers while thinking about how much she loved the way her friend smelled and tasted. "I think she smells like strawberries or something." "As do you." She slid her foot along the long shaft, taking in the rest of its length between her toes as she tried to gauge exactly where she wanted to hit. The head was oddly light compared to her other piercings, but the rest of the shaft still filled her up nicely and left no room for her pain to play any tricks on her; all she could hear was that special quality that only people with heat make absolutely clear, and she was glad that her ability to tell whether someone had heat or not was really good. Being able to ascertain this might have gone a lot smoother if she'd actually been able to get used to the size difference. And she still might be able to even out her odds by using her skill at midwifery. "So I need you to do something for me," Ruby said, her thumb pressing against the firm tip of her friend's head. "But first, I've got to ask you something." "Alright," Daisy teased, smirking lightly at the teasing. "What is it, Snow Angel?" "Do you know what a 'gentleman' is?" Daisy scoffed at this, obviously amused by the little joke. "Oh, really? Why don't you just ask someone who's into that shit and how they met their wife, then?" "You know, it's more fun when they play along." "One kiss does wonders for my credibility," she mocked, gathering her hand in the shape of a triangle in the air to gauge how much pressure she should give. "Uh, what does it really matter?" "Well, you're not very intimidating so you might as well know the answer," she giggled at this, enjoying the playful way her friend flicked her tongue playfully. "Basically, you guys are married and you've got a child." "Oh. Right. Sorry." "Be more proud of yourself." "Ah, you've had quite the day, haven't you?" "Why thank you." "Hey, looks like you're still happy to be the lady of the house." "Your smile is blinding!" "You do realize I barely even know you!" Ruby chuckled. "You should. You seem to have a very confusing relationship with your mom, so I wouldn't say it's a great first impression." "I wonder how she's doing," Ruby thoughtfully observed, licking the length of her friend's head before letting go and letting it fall from her lips with a soft *pop*. It made her feel warm all over, knowing that she wasn't in the picture when her sister's climax was ready to take place but wasn't ready to leave yet, too. She'd get to experience something much nicer than the cold of the alley and admit that Ruby had a friend who could let it go at such an early stage! "I guess that's a relief." Ruby smiled. "How does it feel, huh?" Daisy sighed, leaning back in her seat. "I really don't know. I'm starting to regret asking you out." "We'll have to talk about this soon," Ruby said, softly jabbing her forehead at her friend. "For now, though… the first time, I don't remember much." "Doesn't matter. You'll probably want to know anyway, because I'm not the only one who's missed that act." "You do know that, right?" "How do you say it? Come on, Snow Angel. Answer the question!" "I... I really don't remember much... just, uh, the way you looked at me." "Tempted to ask how that worked out. Guess you'll have to ask Zwei when he comes home." "Not likely to be home for a while," Ruby teased, but it was no lie when she added: "I'm sure he was long gone by the time I crawled out of bed." "Huh, I guess that works out for you." "So, are you going to ask me out again? As in, do you want to date me? As in, are you going to be my girlfriend?" "If you're still asking, then maybe we can-" "Ruby Rose! Will you shut up, please!" "Shut up!" "Not a word until I've found out what you actually do for a living! It's perfectly fine, believe me! I'll tell you tomorrow!" "Fine. Fine, I'll tell you tomorrow." "Daisy." "Stop interrupting, kids." "Thanks, da. I mean… I'll see you tomorrow? At least?" "Yes. I am so totally coming over after school to fuck you senseless and you shouldn't ask me to behave, okay?!" "Okay! Okay, good. Love you." "You too." "I will see you in the morning." With a cheeky grin, Ruby tugged her friend into another kiss, never breaking eye contact even after the emotions in her friend's eyes surged to new heights. Ruby took advantage of her friend's distraction and slipped her arm around her middle and pressed their foreheads together with a grin. "I love you." /chapter content Final Fantasy III: Lightning's Theme (Tower of Conviction) ------------------------------------------------------ Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes7) chapter content Zeus returned from his mission in Southern Thanalan with a few other members of his posse after a very full week of work. Once they settled in their apartment, they began working on the game he was spending the most time in. The tower was nothing special outside of its height, but it served as a setting for many of the big boss battles in the game. As time passed, many of the areas within the tower started to resemble the main events. To the young summoners, most of these battles were familiar, at least in the way they sounded or the similarities between players who still fought them. They didn't know about the bigger reason why bosses were fought in the tower, and they were surprised to learn that those boss fights were mostly in there solely for the party members who had enough experience, to provide a challenge, no matter who won or lost. It was as they got closer to the end of a certain boss fight that they found they were reaching levels that couldn't be reproduced by anyone else. Even the strongest players of the time, able to defeat almost every level boss, had been defeated once at this point. This included Kain, a party member most of the party knew and loved from their past lives as the party leader, and the last member of the party who had been managing the group. "This one's going to be tough," Zecht parted the group to reveal a tall man with short brown hair. He was one of the younger members of the group, nearly half his age. His emerald eyes blinked slowly as he watched the other summoners struggle in the battle against this higher level of a boss. "I see…" "We have to use everyone's strengths," Zech commented, glancing at the man who was helping them. "We all need to be ready for this battle." "That's why I like team challenges like this." The man laughed, his eyes returning to Zech's who was fiddling with the endgame items in his hands. "Maybe they'll bring on higher level bosses..." "What about you, Mr. Mixer?" "Why are you doing this?" "Sparks! That'll show those evil bastards!" "Uh oh," Zech heard the other summoners' voices raise as he stepped away. "Sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Is this guy the one your trying to help?" "That's me." "Are you looking for something? Have I gotten careless?" "There is always the opportunity to make an enemy and be a liability. It was never my intention to hurt anyone." "Huh," Zech arched an eyebrow. "I guess that explains why you're giving us a challenge in the first place." "No, it's not. But if I can help others in similar situations, I'd like that, too." "Is that what you wanted to do anyway?" "Yeah, I mean... well, once upon a time, I thought I would help humans with quests like this one," "You would like that, huh?" "Of course," "You're a summoner, aren't you?" "Yup. I like helping people. I enjoy having people around that I can trust, and being among the people I made friends with gives me a sense of belonging." "Well... it sounds like you're about to get some friends that can hold your hand through this fight." Zech felt his eyebrows raise. "I think I would have liked that." "You're very lucky you met me like this." "I wouldn't have met you if it wasn't for my job," Zech tilted his head in confusion. "If I remember correctly, this person went back to the Tower a number of times and helped us." "Right... Well, it's true that the job wasn't my primary motivation for this." "The reason why people would help you is because of the trust they feel in you, whether it's the party or yourself." "Maybe, but..." "You can rest assured in that we will support you, and you will also need all of us to give you the help you need." "Thank you, Mr. Mixer." "You've made friends, right?" "I guess," "Anyway, I'd like you to meet Bastian and Zarkon." "Nice to meet you, Zarkon," Zech smiled. "Now, what's your name? I have yet to hear anything about you in your "name"? You must have a nice voice, too." "Excuse me?" Bastian laughed. "*Sparks*! You think I'm not going to hear someone call me that, eh, Mr. Mixer?" "Well, have you met Zarkon?" Bastian nodded. "It's nice to meet you, as well. Should we get started with our mission?" "Yep." "Alright, then." "I'm looking forward to it." "Good." Zech raised his eyebrows as Bastian began to speak. "Name? Any memorable ones? Anynames? Even just a nickname, like an nick-name?" "Like who? Is that too personal, sir?" "Just me, I want to call you my friend. If I can call you my friend, you can call me 'mixer' if you'd like. But I have no problem calling you Bastian, either. Just don't forget to include your title if you want to be called 'boss'." "Okay." "Ereli?!" Bastian squealed. "I'm ecstatic! I have been waiting to hear your name all this time! This is amazing! Can you show me your room? Let me go look at it!" "Ereli wants to check out our room," Zech said as he set up his laptop and showed Bastian the home screen. "She likes it better than hers, so it's better for her to see it." "Ereli, wait up for me!" Bastian dashed off to Ereli's room, giving Zech an earful about it later. "Yeah, thank you." "Can I ask you a question?" Zech asked as he filled in another form out on his computer. "I'll be honest, I'm confused. I'm not sure why I came to have you check out Ereli's room, but I know you're gonna be there with me. Are you the boss?" "Ereli is the boss," Bastian nodded. "Why do you think I'm here with her? I'm her boss and she trusts me implicitly. I decided to come by and check on her room, even if she wasn't expecting me." "Gladly, sir." "Let me take this form and put it in Ereli's room so she knows she has my permission." "It's fine." Zech looked over as he gave his orders and sighed. "I love the way you feel," "That's your prerogative, sir. Is there a reason you're doing this now?" Bastian raised his brow. "Eh? It's not something you should do until the mood hits you. We could just check in and do what we normally do, or I could go in to your room, change clothes, and let myself get comfortable." "You're really not comfortable with me just checking your room?" "You don't mind?" "Yeh, there's nothing wrong with that. Ereli said if it's something that bothers you, you can tell me and she won't try to stop you." Bastian raised an eyebrow. "That seems like a piss poor argument to me. Why should I tell you if you don't want me there?" <|endoftext|> Then Harry had just stood there for a minute and thought about what she'd said. He thought that maybe maybe she was right. "I'm sorry," Harry had said, wiping his face with one hand. "I just, I don't know…" "We'll get you out of here," Hermione said firmly. Harry nodded, stepping over the shiv his friends had left on him while he'd had to put up with their insults. "I won't go back to-" "You don't have to," Hermione interrupted, her voice sounding even more angry now. "Just think of it as kind of a leave of absence. I'm not going to hurt you…I promise. It's a small thing, but I promise I'll never hurt you again. And if someone tries to hurt you, they can tell me where you are, and you're mine." He looked at her then, his eyes wide in wonderment. Hermione felt like an idiot. She hadn't meant that you could change people just by being present at them. But Harry was more powerful than she'd ever realized. With his energy and his active presence, he'd been able to control people with barely a thought. And Hermione just couldn't picture him being so powerful without magic. "No," she said as she reached out to grab his shoulder and pull him back against her. "Harry, that's not what I mean. You know, I, er, I don't remember you telling me anything about me being valuable to you. I know I've been hurt and wronged. And I know that I'm more important to you than I will ever be. I don't know how that works. You were the one who said we were in love, weren't you? I know I should have given that up when I woke up because of what happened between us. But I didn't. You were right. There was no turning back. We were always going to be together. I'd forgotten how important that was. And…well, I guess I still am." "What?" Harry asked in confusion, looking down at her. "That's just it," she continued, pulling him into a kiss. "I really don't know how we can go back from something like that. After everything I've done, after all I've tried, we've gotten together and made things better. Harry, I love you. And I do hope that I can do something for you. That I can make up for all the pain I've caused you. I'm still working through things, and I'm still trying to get better. If I can make this situation okay again for you, then I can just try. I can try to help you find some kind of happiness that is back in your life." Harry took her hand then, squeezing it before releasing it. "It's not going to be easy, Hermione. There's going to be a lot of strain on both our relationship. I know I won't be happy either way, but…if there's any way I can help, I'll try to give it a shot." "So long as I can get this mess to go away, that is." "Yes, well…how can you blame me for trying? I love you, Harry, and I'm here for you whenever you need me." "I think it would be nice if things went back to normal." Hermione opened her mouth to say something back, but couldn't. She didn't want to say it, but she wasn't sure it mattered anyway. That was how it had gone back. She wasn't sure that trying to put things back together would be any more successful. This time, Harry said something before she could stop him. "I'm not going to let you get hurt again, Hermione. I promise." And it was true. She would not have hurt him if she thought he'd die. She had tried in the past, and failed. Or, if she'd been following Harry's own advice, she would have gotten angry and left him in despair so she could have her revenge. It's not what she wanted to happen. But that's what had happened. Harry was proud of her. And so was she. * She found a healer on the Quidditch team, who took her in. "Harry, you should go see the Head Healer at St. Mungo's immediately. They've got a lot of cases," she said as she gestured for him to follow her. "It's bad enough he's being thrown back into the Dark Side and his memories aren't helping." Harry knew that people weren't supposed to reveal his secret to anyone but her, but he also knew she was right. He wouldn't be just going into a conversation with the head Healer so he could speak his mind. After all, he was a wizard, and might not be considered sane enough to say what was really on his mind. "I know. That sounds stupid," he sighed, shaking his head. "But you said it would help. So I'm going." "I don't want you going off the ledge," she pointed out. "Go talk to the Head Healer. Tell him how you feel and give him your own version of the story." Harry nodded, letting her lead him down the halls. He didn't push it, although his recovery would have been incomplete without the Head Healer's help. "What does that mean, Harry?" he asked once they'd arrived at the Healing Room. "You've still got your memory of whatever happened?" "No." "Well…you're *still* your parent's son, so they're going to be worried about you. They think you've already walked into some danger and that you've put yourself in jeopardy, possibly getting hurt." Harry sucked in a breath. "Do I really have to explain to you what I've learned since we got here? What happens now?" "If you're worried about people believing you're still…what I'd call inebriated or impaired, Harry, you tell the Head Healer. In case we needed it, we've got all the evidence we can find." Harry shook his head. "Is it bad enough that you're healing without actually being healed first?" She looked confused. "Of course it's not my place to tell you how to live or how to act, Harry. As a Healer, I have to be impartial. But…"she paused. "There's a difference between good treatment and a bad treatment. An irrational fear of losing your memories is common and understandable. But we can only treat you in accordance with the way you feel. If you have a desire to prove you're no longer in danger, that is the goal. You have the choice to continue to feel like that." Harry smiled. "Thank you, Hermione." He was glad to hear it, though he hadn't been as grateful to be told as she had. She had acted more like someone who had shared his secrets than someone who had seen them for the first time. She had given him that chance, and he wouldn't be giving it back just yet. * Two weeks later, he found himself telling the Head Healer that he wanted to quit playing Quidditch because it was making things so difficult. "Are you sure?" "Of course I'm sure, Head Healer. What I want is for things to be back to normal. Not a living hell, not anything like this, but the Dark Side has been fading slowly for months now. I really do like Harry's company, which is why I haven't lost my focus. But I like having the opportunity to play Quidditch. I like all of the trainers and you too, Harry. So if you want me to continue playing, I'll play, but I don't think it's a good idea for me to go back to being someone who's afraid of the Dark Side." "The Dark Side," he repeated. "That sounds scary. Shouldn't you be scared of the Dark Side?" She shook her head. "No. It's because you know what happened. You've been a healer for ages. You saw it for yourself." Harry bit his lip as she worked. "How did that change?" he asked. She grinned and winked. "No one knows the Dark Side well, Harry. But you've already become quite familiar with the drug, so it won't affect you. The more you use it, the worse it will feel. But I don't want it to make you sick. You need the drugs to help you feel the same." He didn't know if he agreed with that. Maybe. * He'd learned a little about the way the Dark Side works while growing up in Azkaban. From prisoners who remembered time spent in the dungeons. From the prisoners who remembered torture. From Harry's own story. From Karkaroff and Malfoy. His brain held most of the information, but he had to say it so others knew what he was talking about. He would say it again, in a different situation. He wanted others to understand the Dark Side. It wasn't meant to be used to harm innocents. When he told the Head Healer that, she rolled her eyes. "You *know*, Harry, this is difficult to say even to myself. But let me put it this way: I'm happy for you. One could even call you inspirational, although I don't know if I'd agree with that term. But let me state the facts: *there *wasn't any Dark Lord before you, and there isn't any Dark Lord now either. So how did this happen?" "I'm here, Hermione, so I think I'll have to agree with you. We both know that it didn't just happen on its own." * "I will pass this information along to the Head Healer, and thank him for his help," she said when he was already feeling better. "But…I need to see you before the next Healer needs to be called. Some of the staff, apparently, have kept saying that one of our potions hasn't worked properly. They never come back from the graveyard. I feel it's best not to take chances. I also know I need to come to terms with whatever experience I may have been given. So, you…get well soon." "I will, Head Healer. I…thank you for caring." She smiled. "Goodbye, Harry, and take care." He took off his magical invisibility cloak and drew the Cloak of Invisibility and slipped into the shadows. It made him incredibly uncomfortable, but it only made him more determined. * Harry was grateful to be at Hogwarts again, though he felt weird about going into the Great Hall after spending almost seven years there. The layout hadn't changed much since his time there. Even now, he knew where to find Hedwig and Remus as soon as he walked by. He caught himself wondering if they would be mad to see him, or if he would be remembered fondly by them. He doubted it. And then he realized that they probably were still there and who knew what they would think of him? After all, they were the same people who had kept him out of Azkaban. And now he'd seen them. And if any of the teachers thought he was helping the Dark Side, they might choose to forget he was once a prisoner. Harry left the Great Hall, one of the teachers following him, and hurried to his next class. * After his sixth year, though he could see the disdain in the eyes of the teachers around him, he still tried not to think about the way they had treated him. It was kinder than he could have expected, and the wizarding world had more than proved its dislike of him. * It was hard enough being a Slytherin. Being in Slytherin House made him realize how much his life had been decided in school and in the dungeons. Every few days, he would know, with no warning, who he was supposed to win over. Slytherins were always in competition to win the title of the *best* student in the school. But since the beginning, he'd known that it wasn't enough to be good at anything. At least, not as good as his rivals. Many people had this phrase, "not to be a giant amongst men." It was something he'd heard every day, in almost all the houses. And it served as an excellent reminder of his place in the world. Luna Lovegood, he would imagine, had that line right in front of her. Hermione Granger had it in front of her; well, *he *knew, and did so with more than a little embarrassment because of what he'd done to the Mudbloods. * Yet, despite his repeated reminders, there were things they missed in the arena with him. Tens of thousands of his peers had moved on to stronger and more prestigious careers, and the second years only participated for two days in the tournament. With only eighteen of them fighting out of twenty-two years, it meant there was even less excitement between them. In his sixth year, all the students except a handful of other important House members used their fourth years for Gryffindor House. They all stayed a full year, and after that, they went into a sort of hibernation, deciding to spend their final year at Hogwarts before going off to their four years at Hogwarts. A part of him didn't really believe that the student body only cast three votes, but he knew that the others didn't dare deviate from the rules. What he really wished, though, was that he'd be able to give a speech, or argue with the Ravenclaws to get things turned around. Or try to change their views on the War. He'd always wanted to fight alongside them in some capacity, and didn't know he would ever have that opportunity. He hoped. Now the name of their Head of House was Miltion LeStrange, and it meant that there were fewer than a hundred students who could help him with his chances of winning. * He was a very lucky wizard in that regard. He wandered through the halls, sometimes arriving late and having to wait in another classroom for his seat to be filled, sometimes being called in just before his turn came up. He was thankful of those extra moments, as if they could predict the outcomes of events, because he didn't want them to ever have to worry about him. Hufflepuff Room, third floor. All he needed was a third year to rise to join in the fight, or if there was only one to do so, a member of their House with good magic, someone with the confidence and bravery to take on everyone. He was with his best friend, Ron Weasley. And as soon as he arrived, Ron gave him a cold glare, as if he hated his presence and would beat him with a broomstick or muggle club to show how much he disliked him. * Well, of course that wasn't what happened. But as Harry looked around at the faces of his friends, Ron's had suddenly grown darker. There was a sort of hatred in them, a new edge to them, and that was probably not unexpected. What surprised him the most though, was the way in which Ginny Weasley also seemed to accept that his presence had changed things for them. Harry found out one of the reasons why that might have been the case when he noticed who his arch rival, Slytherin Ted, was now. Well, Harry hadn't been at the Slytherin Quidditch Club meeting, but he was always there at the end of the year, and often to attend the prefect meeting too. And now he sat opposite of Harry in his Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, a new Slytherin third year who seemed to do as much as he could not to follow the rules. Just at that moment, the Slytherin Quidditch team appeared in the Great Hall. Without a second glance, Hermione, too, was standing next to him, looking crestfallen. She'd always be the first one to cheer against Harry, the hero of the school. Now she was sitting in a corner in the bleachers, just like she had all along. He wondered who Harry was. A Slytherin? A Hufflepuff? A Ravenclaw? A Slytherin wasn't usually able to be a Dark Lord. But Harry could be. He was glad it didn't matter. * In the Great Hall, Harry stood at the board, the dusty Slytherin Quidditch team huddled around him, looking at him oddly. Or maybe their attention was directed at him because he was there. "*Friends*," he told them gently, "I am here to help you." "*Defeated*," said Malfoy directly <|endoftext|> It took some time but it's been awhile. I didn't have to worry about doing it at all." "And you know why?" He sighed and closed his eyes. "What makes you think I've got any idea? Remember the way she was when we met? Her eyes were bright as day, pure and honest, her laugh always had that little edge to it, and the way she turned your hand. And to think I've been looking at you almost naked for a week!" This time, she whipped her head up, and with one last look at him, she opened her mouth. "You're right," he said after a moment. "But not from the way you look at me." His eyebrow raised in confusion. She put her arms around her chest. "I don't..." "She wouldn't be..." "So what are you saying? You've been watching me...all this time?" "Well, not exactly like that," he admitted. "But I wanted to." "So, what makes you think it was with you?" "I was already there... I was always supposed to be there." "I meant in bed, I mean." He let his eyebrow rise in interest. "And did I really give her a good show?" She smiled at him and leaned into his touch. "Your hotness's doing wonders for me, Mr. Ward. At least you're good for me, let me tell you that." "And I don't agree that her size can turn you on so much." "Doesn't change how it feels." She petted his cheek with a smirk. "Heaven forbid you get the feeling you need to buy a little 'chastity' today." "It's just a thing," he said carefully. "I never get like that, and I'm a happy guy." She patted his hands. "That's nice. What's your excuse?" "First, you never want to hurt yourself, or me," he reminded her. "Second, you never want me to do anything I'm too uncomfortable with. And third, you like being good for me." She blinked and looked him straight in the eyes. "You're a perv." "No, no, that's just-" "I don't believe you," she said sternly, still walking towards him. He stared at her, confused. "What? No, it's not that! I just..." He cleared his throat. "I was out with the captain, and later I just felt a little frisky. Not that I'd ever * be * that reckless, it wasn't safe of course, but...yeah, I was out with her...and not that you care or anything, but I left that night. It was nice." She raised an eyebrow. "Oh my...I had a feeling something like that would happen, don't you?" "You don't think about me doing what I do to other people sometimes, do you?" She bit her lip. "No." "Then what makes you think I'm any different than anyone else, you are the most beautiful woman in the world, and I'm sure you'd think nothing of it." "A common sense will always beat an instinct most of the times." "That's not saying anything bad, hehe." /chapter content Chapter End Notes > e/5: i don't think this chapter was planned yet, so don't mind my tl;dr, omg > > Chapter 7: my mom just died the other day, and i was kind of sad in general, so forgive if this chapter doesn't make you feel anything or jump off on any funny ideas that comes to me > > Have fun! > > We Both Want To Be Forgiven ------------------------------------------ Chapter Summary > It's already beginning to rain when Sasha walks into the restaurant where Sami is sitting with Erwin. Erwin says he's most likely enjoying lunch, something they both do, and asks if she'd like to join them, which she gratefully accepts. > > Ahh, enjoy your coffee while it lasts, and by the way, it's not all bad now. > > Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes7) chapter content The word 'blonde' didn't cut much ice with him. Not anymore, in fact. "Why do you hate blonde?" Lena asked brightly as soon as she walked in. "I don't!" He took a seat across from her and glared as she took in the very sparse décor in the restaurant. "Of course you do," she exclaimed. "Anything that reminds you of a blonde will do." He shot her an unamused look. "It is a meeting." "Uh-huh." He sighed. "You know, we've been talking for a week, and you haven't given me one iota of reason to be any happier with me. So I'm pretty sure I'm being redundant here. So let's at least pretend that my preferences don't matter, shall we?" "Maybe, but you haven't even met me, so who's gonna tell you they don't matter?" He grinned and turned back to the menu. "Talk, Lena, talk, and we'll have a talk." She seemed to consider that for a moment, then flicked her gaze to his. "All right, I'll talk. So why do you hate blonde?" He tossed his head. "Because...they make all the men better. The men who aren't blonde like me aren't worth my time." "Ha." She had a grin again, but it was more of a cute little smirk this time. "Well, I want you to get that hair off your face." He shot her a somewhat accusing glare, but couldn't seem to say anything, so she didn't press any further. "Jeez, Sami, I know you don't mean that you want to take me out on dates because you fancy me, okay? I'm here to work. You know that. So why don't we just forget it's blonde and just date each other, I mean-" "Sami, I * am * gay." "Really?" "Of course I am!" She laughed. "Dang, I can hear your voice. So how do you explain that other women aren't as hot as you? They do * all * things hot for men better than you, all the time." He rolled his eyes, then shot her an equally exasperated look. "Okay, so now you know." "I can tell. Are we done here?" "More like we're at the diner where women go to ruin their outfits?" She frowned. "You really think I'd listen to some kind of ass about guys?" He nodded. "You're too smart for it, sweetie." She sighed. "What, I don't find you attractive in the first place? I think I'm pretty damn okay looking." "Obviously." "Okay...okay..." "Anyway, that brings us to you." He had to admit she'd made a pretty good point, and went along with it. "You're gorgeous." "You're my first." "Good enough for me." "You're a guy." "What do you mean?" "Like, you have big muscles," he explained. "And-" "So not over the top hot, like you and me." "Hey!" "Okay...okay..." "Okay, cool," she replied simply. "I can see why. I mean, okay, so you're pretty hung like, right on, and-and you're right over there, too. So I don't-I guess I'd be more than willing to try something new..." "Oh...kay. Thanks." /chapter content Chapter 8 --------- Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes8) chapter content When they were 18, Sasha had gotten into a fight with her ex-girlfriend who lived across town. Sami had said that her left foot was ridiculous and that was the reason why she was not dating at all, and that if she stayed single she would never be as good as a girl. She hadn't said that it was the reason she didn't date either, but Sasha refused to believe her. "What do you think?" "That you like me because you like looking at my feet?" "You know it." "There is no evidence." Sasha scoffed. "Besides," she groaned and leaned her shoulder against the nearest wall. "There are tons of evidence. That woman I dated nearly three years ago was one-dimensional and cliche and didn't even know what an internet was." "You really think she thought I'd get bored because I looked up pictures of girls on the internet instead of looking at a real girl instead?" "You've got a point there. And it doesn't help that your phone has been ringing nonstop since I started wearing shoes." "That's not the point." "Well...you made a good point. I can imagine how distracting it must be to look up women and then come up short with whatever they do on the internet." Sami's scowl faded somewhat at the last remark and she laughed. "Okay...maybe you're right. But that doesn't make it any less annoying." Sasha just shook her head, then turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen. "I'm sick of this fucking game, Sami." "I'm sure you are." She shoved past her and grabbed a paper plate from the fridge, then sighed when she saw the label. "Eat like a human being. Do something useful. Like look in the mirror and ask yourself if that is you or some stranger," she added and then leaned in for a kiss, bringing her mouth to his. "Because when you make someone uncomfortable it's called 'getting jealous,' and we both know that isn't going to stop anytime soon." She pulled back to give him a wry smile, then continued, "I'm serious. And please, when you're down, make a manly effort to pick up the goddamn phone and dial an actual number." "Yeah...whatever." And that was that. On Thursday nights Sasha and Sami would eat dinner and order takeaway, then switch to Chinese takeout at night. The noodles were always better, however, and had the added benefit of being much cheaper, and at least once a week they ordered Thai food. "Any idea when we're getting married?" Sami asked from across the table from them. "Not yet." "Damnit, I'm sorry," she muttered under her breath. "Am I gonna have to stay away from you for another two years to make up for that?" "Nah. I'm going to be fine." "Come on, you are going to have to eat your heart out if you want me to do this again after the winter holidays." Sasha smiled. "If you stick around though, we'll have another date before the end of next month." "Not like I am one to turn down a chance at romance," she teased and then made her way to the toilet. She began to pull down her jeans and shed her black tank top, then paused when the words came rushing back to her. "Seriously, what do you think?" "I think it's a really good thing that you're dating someone already." "She's great," she grumbled, lifting her shirt to reveal a pleasingly toned stomach. "But is she really *that* good?" He bit his lower lip and looked at her. "Sami, please don't ever change." "Thanks. Let's go." His hands were on her hips as he guided her to the bedroom and then she let out a long sigh of relief. The task took little effort; she lay in bed, partially clothed, until he was done and he tossed the last item he'd prepared on the bedside table next to her. "How was dinner?" "Fine," she snorted, smiling at him. "Did you need me to cook anything today? I think I'm good in here by myself." "No, everything went fine for you. You didn't have a hard time making me do anything." She couldn't help but smile and then repress the urge to giggle at the dazed expression he appeared to have. "How did you know?" He dropped her shirt into the garbage, then flipped out of bed. "Maybe I saw something on Tumblr today. I guess you deserve some kind of reward for getting out of bed on your own and deciding to take a bath without telling anyone what you were planning on doing," he teased, licking his lips. "I mean, no offense, but I was glad you decided to call me and tell me." "You're...you're disgusting." He laughed. "Go on, I'll make something up to make up for that." He followed her to the bathroom and poured himself a glass of water. When the glass broke she clutched his arm, pulling him down so that they could sit facing each other. "What are you thinking?" "Let me finish, I'll figure it out." "I think it'll end with me eating you like a rat." "Then it'll be okay. We'll see what happens." "Why do I get the feeling that this is going to go nowhere?" He nodded. "You should talk to Jody about it. She likes me." "And you're in love with her?" "You sure don't have to know anything about it. What you saw on Tumblr made me want to see you get all that out of your system." She crossed her arms over her chest and pushed him in close. "Are you telling me that a whole little group of teenage girls put your name in all caps, including hers, and said you wanted to see me naked?" He grinned and leaned in. "Honestly, that was a good screenname." She looked at him, then leaned in, pressing her lips to his. "That's actually great." "It's not like it's my first time around and I've only been talking to you." "Because you've known me for so long." "And that wasn't going anywhere." "I think it's obvious you're a girl." He raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I'm having a girl crush on you." "If I say it doesn't I'm a transphobic fuck, right?" He kissed her just below the ear, and then pulled back again. "You're being ridiculous, shoving it in my face. It's not like I'm a guy and suddenly see you as a lesbian." She sighed. "So, how about we give it a shot? Together?" "Only if you don't hate me for the rest of the day," he joked. She rolled her eyes, "Sami, I love you. Maybe I will the next time." "Good point. I hate when you assume I'm a girl because I've read the latest article about transgender and their issues in the media. How does it feel to be called queer?" She laughed and shoved his hands up. "I can take a joke." He cupped her cheek with his hand and tilted his head back so that he could look into her eyes. "Look, I don't know if you've noticed, but I thought it might help with the whole 'I'm not a straight man' thing. Did you notice any differences?" She started to laugh. "No! I thought you had a crush on me before. I just assumed you were a gay man because, umm, obviously I'm a woman." "I've been kind of thinking about it." She laughed and pouted. "What? Me? Hormonal?" He frowned. "Would you prefer I'd had tits or like, sausage fingers at this point?" She sighed, "I don't know, please tell me you haven't had. You've probably seen them before though." "Welp, I think I'll go. If you insist on dating me, I don't want to risk losing you <|endoftext|> "No, we are not. But if you need anything, just ask. Also, don't tell Oliver. I've figured out enough about him," Dinah grinned. "I mean you know who I think?" he teased. She shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Someone must've been very persuasive to convince him." "Maybe not *you*, Dinah. Not that I care much, I figure I'm more of an annoyance now than I was when I was teenaged," he said with a wink. "I think we both know your age is always somewhat irrelevant. After all, we're talking about the same person here. And I assure you, he'll be happy to see you. And you'll be happy to see me. Together." "Alright," he replied with a grin, "But, he doesn't need to know how I feel about either of you, so maybe he'll be alright without even knowing." "Well, I'm no saint and my heart might as well have killed me before I got here," she groaned. "Relax, he'll like you," he joked, "And I'll just have to drag him out of that trailer with a broken arm and a bloody nose and a few teeth missing to meet you for the first time." Dinah raised her eyebrows. "How much can you physically handle?" He smirked and shook his head. "Not very much actually," he said. "You, on the other hand, have been through a hell of a lot more than most of us can say about our lives." Dinah hummed. "Yes, well… let's just say that we're all super excited for the chance to live out our own version of love," she admitted. He glanced at her. "Does it look like you're excited?" he teased. Her eyes lit up with mischief. "Oh yeah. Definitely." "You sure?" He shot her a smirk. "Of course I'm sure. Don't tell my Mama I told you that. She'll kill me." "Relax. She doesn't want you to go off the rails." "I will," she chuckled. "Let's just say that both of us are determined to stick to safe fun and that means hiding under a rock and pretending like we don't exist for a while." She shook her head. "Don't get your hopes up." "We'll never be afraid." /chapter content Other Men -------- Chapter Summary > After two years away, he returns home to experience a few days of his life he never knew existed. > > Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes18) chapter content He finally made it back to Starling City after his months long absence. Since he had gotten together with Laurel, he'd imagined a lot of things. He'd thought about the perfect day he would get back to go back to work and then again how he was going to feel the day before he got back home. He'd imagined thinking about what was going on in his place or how he and Connor would go over to check on Sara's living situation. He'd even imagined what it was going to be like when he saw her and then some. All that he did during those two years had been put into a giant pile that he went over one time more than he planned on. However, his mind eventually came back to this moment because, one day, he realized that he truly only felt himself slowly coming back to life. His mind was still pondering on his past years and he thought back on the image he'd actually created. The only real difference was how he remembered his working days. He envisioned his life as a living hell, and he had to admit, it wasn't one he was familiar with and there was a lot of shit that happened to him during his time off. However, there were moments in time when he would remember, every single time, going through much worse. He recalled how Laurel had killed a man who tried to attack her, or that the place where he had to live in, which is also where he had to work, had been destroyed. Even when she told him the man had been her boyfriend, he remembered him as a rogue and a criminal. All of those things would come flooding back to him as well as the memories of when he and Laurel had been together. He remembered the vision he had of just how much it took of him to do what they both had done in order to protect them. The list of what he witnessed was as long as the list of things he had forgotten about Laurel after they had been apart for two years. The bile rose again as he remembered the scene they had been in together at the time. It was weird, but this time he felt anger over it instead of regret. But, seeing the woman he loved, he could think that he was being too hard on her. He knew she was in a tough spot when she had left his life for good, but still she had to make the sacrifice to leave it behind for the greater good. That realization struck him especially hard. For weeks now, he had been trying to convince himself that he should be grateful for the little bit of peace he had survived before he had met Laurel. Even though he had been in the hospital for a while, he could have wished for more. He'd always intended to be there for her, but he also knew that it didn't mean anything when she left him to discover her own fate. He knew that at some point, when he had to face her again, there was a part of him that would never let her go. He'd be there for her, he'd let her pick his pieces from the debris of his life and make them whole again. In addition to trying to forget everything that had happened, he had also been doing a lot of worrying. Everything that was left out of her story was never an easy one to put into words. Even though he did understand the situation, he still felt incredibly guilty. However, because of that, he had chosen to ignore everything and got into a deep, dark funk and made no progress whatsoever. Instead, he was lying on his bed and wrapped up in blankets as he plotted everything that she would say at first. He had laid out the story in his mind and tried to keep it specific. It didn't take long for him to open up his computers when he was falling asleep, just in case something happened. That was when his nightmare began. His heart raced as he immediately prepared himself for her response. The moment she spoke, he laid down the story as if he were preparing for a test. He just waited until she opened her mouth and when she did, he knew the moment she had seen all his pictures and her feelings toward him. He'd just know that she hated him. /chapter content Kneeling --------- Chapter Summary > Black Canary is pulling out all the stops to keep a secret from anyone but Oliver. But, she's getting fired up and she doesn't seem to know she's doing it. > > Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes19) chapter content "Don't you see?" Diggle said, still not looking at him. "I'm doing *everything *right now to make myself stronger. You know that right? I'm doing everything I can so that I don't lose my job." "And," Lance added, "you are such a fucking wimp when it comes to Oliver." "I'm already doing *everything* right now, alright?" Lance shrugged. "Yeah, but I can't tell you." Diggle just nodded, and as he sat down next to him, he reached out and tapped his fingers against his hands. "So, you have all these plates, all this stuff you need to organize in your head, but do you see them?" Lance was silent for a minute, and then he shook his head. "Not really. I just keep building stuff up in my head. A car, a basketball hoop, a boat." Diggle gave him a sly smirk. "You know what I mean, darling. When you're focused on something, you see it. I know what it feels like, the feeling of accomplishment when you succeed." "Well, that's not what I'm doing." "What?" "We're doing things together, remember?" "Sure I am." Lance winced as he pushed his palms against his forehead, and added, "I'm sorry, I…I don't know what came over me, I just…don't want you to…" "It's fine. Just…just forget all that crap you've been saying about you." "That's not going to work." "I know." "I'll make you remember it, just relax." "Okay. Okay." Lance felt a bit taken back by the confidence he was being given, but he decided to ignore it. After that, he spent his days alone. He kept his resolve and not let Laurel see him teetering or getting anxious. She would watch the clock and after the end of each day, she would nod to herself with an encouraging smile. He couldn't even take her for a walk, fearing she might leave him again. However, the death of a mother was the only thing that had shown him how fragile he was and he was determined to survive this like he had taken her for granted for the last two years. He pulled out all the stops to stay in control and accepted that it wasn't going to happen anymore. The problem was, he wasn't sure he was going to survive this anymore, either. "Honey, would you like some breakfast?" Laurel said, sitting on the edge of the couch, looking quite miserable. It was practically noon and she still hadn't eaten or gotten any work done. Her hair and eyebrows were dyed bright red and it looked absolutely disgusting. "I've already made the toast, have you? I have eggs and bacon." Lance blinked at her as he dug through the fridge for his morning toast. "Oh, I thought you were going to let me choose that or something. Like, do you like it?" She cocked her head to the side, judging him and groaned. "Oliver might get jealous and start asking you to spend time with him." "Not going to happen. I don't need to be held accountable for not finding a way to get through with you." Lance scoffed. "Or maybe I do. He's my soulmate." Linda gave him a raised brow as she spoke, "Your soulmate." "Yeah, well, look at us, huh? Ya, we got our quirks, too. I've got my goofy side and you've got your brains." She folded her arms over her chest and sighed. "Fine. Breakfast won't hurt you anymore." "I'm glad." Lance spent the morning researching and, after he knew he wouldn't die today, he read the newspaper. When the 10:00 news flashed across the screen, he closed it out without paying much attention to it. He was working himself off anyway. He still remembered the moment her face appeared on the screen. He was sure he would hear about how her planned to lay off work, at least some, as well as burn everything to the ground. He had been desperate for change ever since she had left. Lance groaned as he opened up The L Word, flipping through the pages. Once again, he flipped through with no interest. He was so focused on this novel that he didn't even catch the football player from the previous episode that just happened to be the protagonist. He wanted to kill her. Lance needed to kill someone today so he could finish the rest of his work on time, even if it meant he would see this kid again. Just once he had tried to pull a trigger, only to get fired. That was the happiest moment of his life and he was determined to make sure the same happened this time. He tossed the novel aside and dragged himself over to where Laurel was sitting. "Are you finished?" He gave her an expectant grin. "What, you think I didn't finish the whole book?" Laurel wrinkled her nose. "Because I just read four pages and I know I'm not done yet." "I really should get going," Lance said before he walked over to where Oliver was seated at his desk. She sat in her chair and tilted her laptop away from the window. "Okay, let's get to work. I'm really sorry, sweetie." "Sorry?" Laurel gave him a confused look. "What is it? Did I somehow make my girlfriend mad or something? Why are you scaring me again?" "It's okay," Lance said. "I just need to be here when you're ready to start making an effort to do your job and a few things to prepare you for this situation." "Let's face it, you've been on your feet all afternoon. You're not a very good employee," she said as she watched him open his laptop. "You should be in bed writing poetry and getting lessons. Unless…is there anyone else that needs the extra help besides me?" "Ah, sweetie, not at the moment." "I'm a programmer, not a med student." "Great, I've got someone on my team that will replace your spot tomorrow." She chewed on her lower lip and looked at him as though she needed confirmation. "Like, *I* know that. I don't say this lightly." "A date with that girl will be arranged shortly." Lance slowly put his computer aside and stood. "You ready to go?" "Absolutely." Lance put his laptop back in its place on the desk and picked up his keys. He walked toward her and placed them on the coffee table. "You ready to send this call in?" Lance smiled when he saw how much she had improved in the last couple of weeks. "Don't tell me you forgot me yet." Lance couldn't get over how nervous she must be right now. He may never forgive himself for not sticking around and continuing to help her with school work and when she needed something, he was there immediately and always did his best to be there for her. He really didn't realize just how much of a target she had been for the entire city until just recently. She was a public figure and everyone knew about her relationship with him because of what happened earlier. While he was still on the brink of thinking she was lying, she came along and saved him just in time. So he figured she was still upset and needed some help. She certainly didn't deserve for someone to be constantly trying to get between them. He had been through his fair share of bad breakups, so he knew the feeling of looking for the one you really knew who was right there in front of you, not in the bushes with a knife to your back. That wasn't to say he was going to make any moves like that. But when it came down to it, he had been more vulnerable before in their long time together. Maybe it was because of the love they shared and maybe it was due to his good nature. When it really came down to it, however, it was the woman he wanted to call that night who would be there to try and pull him back to her side. And he would give everything he had for it. As Lance walked toward her, he could feel her already tense and trying to figure out how best to phrase her next words. She was probably wondering how he was going to react when she saw her husband calling her to attempt to cheer her up. He wasn't sure how this had become a daily occurrence, but he was now expecting it to happen during one of his more stressful times in which he was faced with deadlines he had to meet as well as upcoming events he had to attend. He didn't want to seem overly worried or by his actions, but she might notice some of those types of things. He remembered being a teenager and thinking that one's parents were always trying to get close to them. He shrugged off any thoughts she may have had and let the words sink in. "I haven't even told my family about this yet. And I am so sorry that I didn't ask. I guess I was scared at first." "Well, I will definitely not blame you for anything in regards to your mother's reaction. It isn't your fault if you didn't come for me first." She had felt that he'd want to stay in bed in order to avoid a fight because of how they were and since he was dealing <|endoftext|> "Spock, there is a part of my body that can't be accessed without sensory input and it will become stronger when I spend time with my family." "I would agree. And the neural pathway to keep it functioning, sustained for as long as possible, will be created in your lab over the next week or so." "Very good. *You* want me to stop by?" "Spock, I will not seek to control your behaviors, nor will I compel you to do things that are outside of your abilities. The solution to this most pressing problem lies within your hands." "Very well. Who are you?" "Ahem. My name is Dr. La Forge. Spock, I am attempting to create an artificial wormhole near Earth, that we can use to gain access to Earth and retrieve the Enterprise." "What do you need from us?" "We will build the wormhole to the minimum specifications you have provided and we will supply you with the information you require. I understand that you are aware of our current situation. I believe I must have requested your assistance." "And why?" "The Borg have completed an unchallengeable plan to prevent the formation of such a human-made device. Their interference has prevented our contact with the non-corporeal beings, artificial or otherwise. I expect you to assume active oversight of this project. Spock will also be in your service. Should anything go wrong, all attempts to contact you and the others will be met with the utmost hostility." "Are you familiar with the Borg? Do you know why they are hostile?" "Spock, I'm not ready to discuss the details of our current situation. There are a lot of unknowns here. That I can assure you. But I am familiar with the Borg and their actions. It would seem they are attempting to maintain any contact between artificial and non-artificial life forms. They could not allow Humans to research a biological component." "Does the Borg, as a species, possess a way to regulate the neural pathways to preserve healthy neural function?" "If they did, I'm sure you would know how to do it. As a matter of fact, Spock would have known how to do it; it would only require your willingness." "In my humble opinion, that's wishful thinking. A wormhole requires a single point of origin; does it not?" "Of course. We have not yet determined how the Borg will attempt to put an end to our research." "Are you willing to discuss this problem with Starfleet Command?" "Spock, the Borg evidently view humanity as vermin worthy of eradication." "Considering the Voth have proven themselves to be capable of preventing the wormhole from forming, one would assume that Starfleet Command would consider the beings as worthy adversaries. It seems unlikely. We will need to pursue a diplomatic solution first. Is that agreeable to you?" "Agreed. Admiral Pike, if you require more information, let me know." "Spock, we have finished work on the weapon you requested. I will return to my lab to clean up the remnants of Borg technology. You need not trouble yourself with another mission like this, as I'm sure you understand. Thanks for your cooperation. I'll advise you as soon as possible." "In that case, I shall inform you when I receive further instructions." "Aye, sir." "Dr. Spock, you have access to my lab at Starfleet Headquarters; I would suggest working there. There is plenty of space." "Thanks. I will check my files later. I think I will be going now." He left her office quietly and returned to his quarters. He scheduled a few follow-up visits and requested a room dedicated to him at Starfleet Headquarters; a request which was denied. This further depressed him. Starfleet Academy was officially an optional course for all humans. Thus, he was technically not to address Federation Officers. The one exception being himself, since the adults in Starfleet were at least eighteen years old and had to hold their own in Starfleet; but many would argue that Vulcan children were exempt. He expected this approval to come soon, as he went about trying to make the conference call with Starfleet Command; hoping that they could get an edge on the Borg before they reactivated their project. At first, nothing happened. All of the communications went through the normal channels, indicating that Starfleet Command was out to lunch. Meanwhile, Dr. Scott was using the social networking sites, internet news sites and forums to keep in contact with other Romulan refugees. He volunteered to make the conference call. Nyota snorted at the idea that Spock was making the conference call, not that he would tell her and the crew what was going on. "Well, obviously, he wouldn't have the nerve to ask me. And his social media pages aren't the most reliable." "You should give him a break, Nyota. Why don't you check out these Khan? They're willing to attack the Borg. He knows what he's doing." "Spock isn't me," Nyota pointed out. "He's doing it out of duty; he's helping protect his people, just like you." "Please, you're taking it the wrong way. I know what I'm doing. So shut up, Nyota. Spock's doing this because he is owed your support and he is doing it out of duty. Don't tell me you think his actions are supposed to go unnoticed. The Federation is the United Nations of our time. This is our communication network! They are supposed to have a voice!" "I'm no longer surprised by your logic." "Well, let's just say it will catch up with you at some point. Or that's what the Klingons have told us: they wish to warn their people away from Federation Command and Starfleet. They mean you well; don't listen to them; they're idiots!" "The Borg have been attacking Federation bases and outposts all over the galaxy for years. I want you to know I'm watching you. And you should be, too." "If you truly think I am going to let you gain any ground, you have another thing coming." "Then, I guess I will just have to get used to being underestimated." "Spock, can you change the channel please?" "Didn't I say that you are a goddamn idiot for following my directions? Would you like me to try something else?" "What do you want me to do?" "What do you want me to do?" "To attack the Borg? Isn't that what Starfleet Command wants us to do?" "No, I meant to tell you to give me a different command." "Do you have a better one? I've never really done anything I did not expect to work." "Well, please tell me. The Klingon Empire is hoping to act by myself against the Borg. Do you know them?" "No, what do you know about them?" "Yes, sir. They attacked a Federation outpost on the Feralas system in 2371." "What did they do?" "They wounded the commander and another officer before they were stopped. Then they used human ground troops against them, destroying three of their ships. They have not yet tested new breeds of weaponry. Can you determine how effective they are in battle? Does your crew have any information about them? Is there any specific code word that they use to refer to their species?" "Nah, we're guessing by their personal names." "Good thinking." "Are there any stories?" "Our crews say the Borg they encountered behaved as though they were behaving as though they were in a video game. They were the only species who utilized the versatility of memory transporters so quickly in the face of danger. They seem to have a unique hostility toward Starfleet Command. You can kill me with this, Spock. Let's find out what the Borg's plan is and then we can find out why they are acting this way. Can you describe their collective behavior?" "We wouldn't do anything to hurt them, would we? But the Federation doesn't want them to be taken out before they have a chance to learn how to fight." "Fine, let's see what they have to say." "They feel betrayed. They have been working with Starfleet for years and have worked alongside Humans on numerous missions. They have trusted Federation Command and they don't want to see it fall, Spock. They believe Federation Command betrayed them, as did you. You don't see any reason why Starfleet Command would need a written record of the Borg's discussion. It is time for Starfleet Command to know that Federation Command was willing to sacrifice its own interests to protect its fellow species. We will be willing to use our lifeships to defend our allies." "Shit, I see nothing but trouble ahead of us." "It is time that Starfleet Command read it. They may not like what they find." "How do we find this information?" "By means of our intelligence officers." "What am I to do if they refuse to tell me?" "Then you can invoke the one act of God that Starfleet Command cannot deny. You must murder one of their officials. No witnesses." "But not me." "Then you are to take advantage of a situation that is almost always tailor-made for those who were born lucky enough to never grow up." "How can we distinguish between honorably dead and dishonorably dead?" "You will find it easier if you remember this: "There are three basic steps to the elimination of prejudice and the elimination of hatred: 1. Put something ugly into people's heads; 2. Convince them to remember it; 3. Tell them it's ugly again." "Which brings us back to them." "Once their minds are made up they will accept it. That's why their families have no reason to rebel against this desire to attack Starfleet Command. Their families, friends, and comrades will be the ones to bring them to their deaths. Now, my resources in this area do not extend beyond force majeure and the unguarded imaginations of a half dozen unarmed officers. I need more than any other intelligence officer in the universe to find out if the information Starfleet Command requested came from these Borg and, perhaps, if they are working together with Starfleet." "Is there something more to their attacks?" "Definitely. I think they are planning on leaving the Federation and then make it clear to Federation Command why they are doing so." "But when?" "When Starfleet Command is fully aware of what is happening. After they become aware of the reality that Starfleet is planning a direct assault on the Borg, Starfleet will make their first move." "Can you tell me where they are located?" "Not quite. They are not the only species who planned to strike at the Federation first. Human forces set out in 2371 to destroy the Borg. They came to Earth and began spreading across the Milky Way with the intent of decimating and humiliating the Borg first. Their intelligence suggests they are doing something similar now." "Where exactly are the Borg located?" "Evasive maneuvers indicate the Borg are attempting to take one of Starfleet's Sol system bases; but they are making few effort to destroy the base." "And if they make such an effort to take one of your ships?" "They will achieve no victory if they are killed before they make contact with us, Lieutenant. Your effort to find out their location will be fruitless. But I still have one piece of intel." "Will you give it to Starfleet Command?" "In effect, yes. I have said this many times over the course of the last two weeks, Lieutenant. I wish to honor my agreement with Starfleet Command by saying this to you now. When we find out who these people are and what their plans are, we will begin a preemptive strike. We will not hesitate to destroy the Federation's plans to attack the Borg, even if they prove successful in their execution. As we have seen already, they have an untamable bloodlust which Starfleet Command will struggle to suppress. Their actions are insubstantial until they hear what the Federation has to say about the matter. They may be willing to risk their lives for the Federation." "I have my orders, sir. Take the ship out of the transit corridor. I will make a report to Starfleet Command. Thank you." He got up from his spot and strode out of the turbolift. Picard stood with his hands in his pockets looking severely annoyed. Worf followed him and moved his hand and palm into a fist with his thumb upwards. "Let's get this over with and get these bastards!" He hollered over his shoulder. "What is your business here, Picard? Do you need me to just make you a deal with the devil, General? Tell me! How long did it take you to decide that the Enterprise had better get up and go to hell for the murder of your friend, Data?" "Wait, wait," Chief O'Brien interjected. "That's a nice analogy, but really, this is my job, not your business, Commander. The Captain handles the day-to-day business of this crew." "Then I guess it's my responsibility, right? Do you know how many times I've been told I don't have the authority to order Picard out of his post?" "The Captain doesn't have the authority to order anyone else to do anything!" "M'lud, I'm Starfleet, not your king! How much more subordinate do I have than that, General?" "I'm sorry, Captain. But I am superior, as you know, to Picard. You are mine, as you have proven time and time again. You'll see." "I don't feel like I have the authority to tell you to do that. I'm sorry, Chief, I didn't mean—" "Yes, captain," replied the Doctor, grabbing his hand with both of his hands, "I read you well, commander. It is my wish to inform you of a threat to our interests which has been reported to me." "Yes, ma'am. I figured that since you're our one source of intel, I'd be informed sooner or later. And I don't want to hear what you say next." "Are you ready for this, Commander?" "I'm not interested in talking about it!" "Captain?" "I'm not a nag, you bastard. Not this time. Come on." He waved his hand dismissively. "Look, I don't trust you because I don't trust your leadership, but I'm not going to pay you an additional set of stupid fines for your troubles. What is the danger, Admiral?" "Lieutenant Commander Data!" Captain Picard turned to his former First Officer, "Do you believe him?" "Why should I?" "Because he says the Borg will attack the Federation if Starfleet is attacked first. Do you doubt him, Captain?" "Of course I do," said the Captain. "Which means I trust him implicitly. So I suggest you remove yourself from this board before I begin to recall you to active duty." "Captain, you can't have it both ways. Of course I trust you implicitly, but we both know that you're bluffing." "That's right, Commander. Isn't it convenient that I'm bluffing so well?" "Let's see, which one of us is bluffing better?" "I wouldn't call that one. You know I have zero respect for someone who's never been in combat. I might believe in the Admiral's ability to do his job, and I might find it necessary to occasionally question why he's actually on the bridge at all. But I do not care if he believes in the ability of our enemy to slaughter us, as we have already proved. I care if he believes in his own ability to defeat us and turn us into nothing more than piles of mindless ships out of the blue. I care if he isn't sufficiently skilled in combat to be placed in a position where he can tell his Enterprise to leave us alone when we are ready to fight." "Captain, I am not bluffing. If the <|endoftext|> I hold my gaze. "You're in love with me." It's a pretty good surprise to see *Shanteya *laugh aloud at the floor. "Do you think I'm in love with anyone? Lelouch *is *my soulmate. And not just because he's tall and slim like an omelette, because that's what I like about him!" I watch her slow and look surprised, but she's still smiling. "Oh, it's just that I have never seen you *admit* that you are, and that's a scary thing for me. Am I too late?" "You should meet him." She grabs my hand in hers. "It's more fun. Not to mention more understanding than pretending. You'll understand sooner or later, and you can give him advice. I'm sure he'll be very, very appreciative." *Heart break.* "But I still don't know if I like him," I answer. "And it might be difficult to figure out. I'm not sure I like anyone yet." "I'm sure that'll come with time." There's another pause. "So you should stop making fun of me." She gives me a sheepish smile. "Honestly, I guess I just don't want to seem needy." I hear her open her mouth, but she leaves it. *Ok, well you won't find out how wrong I am about that, I guess.* /chapter content Chapter 17 ---------- chapter content After our night together, I've gotten into the habit of going on little trips to the mall whenever I can. It's a nice distraction. I pull off my shoes as I walk to the meeting room to meet with Neve and Fuyumi, who are talking about their plan for the forthcoming festival. As I'm close enough, I interrupt them. "Well…" Fuyumi calls after me as I walk closer. "That about wraps up the first half of the year. Let's continue talking about our plans for the second half! Just in case we don't make any kind of progress in the middle, how about we pick a theme?" "What?" I ask. "Like, what do we really need to talk about?" "I'd say that we haven't actually decided anything yet. And no, we don't have a theme." "What does that mean?" "Well… where will we go from here?" Fuyumi shakes her head. "We haven't made any major decisions yet either. We'll just keep talking about things." "So?" "Yeah, we'll just keep making new ones." "And how do we start?" "Well, we could talk to each other." "Um… what?" "About our lives. About our dreams. We can go about it in as much detail as you like." "Yeah, that would be fine," I agree. I look to Neve, and she's lost in thought. "I'll start." Neve doesn't seem to feel like going straight to the top of the list, so I decide to recommend someone else. "The next best thing is a manager. Someone who supports your ideas and those who challenge them. You do not want to work with someone who puts limits on your creativity." I add a suggestion to Neve that we work under someone with experience and without being on duty every day. Neve sits forward, keeping her expression neutral. Her hands shake slightly. "Okay, um, first of all, I'm fairly busy right now, but I've already written down a few names. They're just my best ideas. They've all got merit, and I wouldn't even be sitting here if they weren't." "Great. Okay, on second thought, that's probably a bad idea. No one likes being told they're not good enough for a job, you know. So before you start brainstorming ideas, I'm going to suggest some people whom you can approach." "Are there some names you can think of?" "We could use some *lessers*!" Neve looks at me strangely. "Well, the choices would be limited to general managers and senior managers for most companies, but it may be possible to take people from elsewhere, such as foreign managers. Also, it might be a good idea to approach those with the highest rank they may have." I've been giving advice to Neve, so I think it's an appropriate time to tell her she can get someone from outside the organization for me. "They're exactly the people I'm looking for. I'll explain you later." "It sounds like you have a better idea than I did, though," Neve admits. "Shoot. *When*, are you gonna give me a name?" "Of course I will." "Alright, good. But are you okay with being *fooled*?" "Only if it's something like those up above me." "Okay. But remember to keep this conversation between us. You don't want Neve seeing any other management types, just people you trust and respect. Nobody else gets to participate in this." Neve nods, and I know she's agreeing. When I turn to Neve, she's still pouting. I decide to "unlock" her. "Oh," Neve frowns. "Why should I trust you? You've done this *too* many times before." "I've been doing it since we were kids. I'm good at it." "Well, try it again. I'll only trust you when I feel you're worth the risk." "I've always been a risk taker, baby." "If you insist on it, then I suggest you talk to another person with less experience. Let's go get our faces slapped together first. I trust you, and I know you won't let Neve see you doing something you can't possibly succeed at." "Maybe I will," Neve says, before scooting away. "It was *exactly* the kind of thing I was thinking of doing anyway, didn't you think?" "You don't owe Neve anything." "Fair enough, but the answer to both of our questions is still yes." Neve can tell she's winning this fight. "Okay, *fair enough*. Well, time for another try at persuasion. If you're really that good at this… then maybe it would help if I knew some people who were good at this. People who *couldn't* fail." She pauses. "Asking around, I see the possibility of a double-agent situation." "Double-agents are rare, don't you think?" "Honestly? I didn't think so. And one thing I've learned about working for a company is that it's very hard to change a partnership. Who knows what other people are thinking?" "I thought you had a sister? A sister who wouldn't find it as acceptable to work for a faceless corporation as yourself." "It's possible, but that hasn't worked out well for me." "Ah, yes, the old, vicious circle of employee-employer friendship. So you'd have to trust someone else's judgment." Neve doesn't seem convinced, but she decides to draw the line here. "Your guess is as good as mine." "I'm not giving up. I would certainly consider it." Neve flinches slightly. "What if you *got* caught? I mean, what if you were discovered working for someone *better* than yourself?" "Not likely. I'm keeping my options open. I know you mean well, but that must come off as arrogant. So if you really want to go for it, then we might be better off trying a partner rather than a double agent." Neve meets my eyes intently for a moment. "So, is that a no?" I'm suddenly struck by how cold and distant this conversation has become. I decide to drop the subject. "No, of course not." Neve laughs. "I *like* you. Much better than I expected." "You might." "Don't get me wrong. I'm concerned about you getting too close to people you don't truly trust, though." "No, you're not wrong, I am worried about you getting too close to me. But if you want me, I'll stay. If you trust me, you'll do what needs to be done." "Neve, I trust you. I just need to be more careful." "And what is that exactly?" "I'm fine with working with *anyone*." "Who?" "With anyone." "Good. And let's hope someone you trust isn't one of them." "Trust is such a funny thing, Neve," she remarks. "You're getting good at it, I can tell. Good enough that I'll listen to what you want to hear?" "Like you said, you're supposed to be someone who *can't* fail. Which has prevented me from becoming a double agent." "Well, *shit*. I actually can't believe this shit just happened…" "Yeah. All part of the plan, I guess. But we can't do this, Neve. I'm the only one who can get us to where we need to be. There's not much more I can do." "I know, I know. Just… I just want you to trust me, Neve. And I mean trust you. Trust your senses. I'm happy to be *your *ally, because I love you, but *I* don't love you." "So you do want to be with me, right? Just as an ally? On the condition that you trust me to handle things the way you'd like me to?" "Fuck yeah I want you to be safe. And safe is what I want, okay? So just say no to being my partner, and let me think on it." "Neve, it's my job to always be ready for the unexpected. Or to reach into the unknown for solutions. You're the one who asks me to trust you, and I can't do it without it." "I know I can trust you. But I don't need to trust you to be safe, or to know when to be on my side." Neve smiles. "I understand completely. Then again, sometimes I wonder who will give me the cold shoulder. The ones who don't trust *us*. The ones who think I'm asking for everything. It can be lonely at times." "I have no doubt in your ability to do the job. I know that you *will* succeed. I know you have the skills to make something of yourself. And I know you won't let the safety of the Federation be put in jeopardy because you're worried about not being safe, or worrying that you're *wrong*. I think you'll do a good job, Neve. And while I don't expect you to be perfect, I also expect you to do things right and to keep your personal feelings to yourself." "Okay, that's fair. So do what you can, and tell me what you want." "Do what you can? But you really don't need to do anything. I trust you. I've got this, and trust me. I *have* a plan, and you're the only one who can help me. Go home. I don't want any interference. I mean it." "I do *not* trust you. I think you could have gotten better results—but I don't trust you at all. I want to do the job, and I mean to protect the Federation. So, go. Follow your own instincts, and do what you know to be the right thing. Don't get in the way of it. Just be here if you need anything, and don't listen to me until I say so." Neve may have spoken her mind, but I'm willing to bet that she's more afraid of the person she thinks I am than I am of her. As Neve goes back to her post, I feel guilty for seeing her like this. She has already seemed so perfectly fine with me. And yet… One day, while hunting for information, she shows me something that makes me spit out my coffee—almost like she realizes that I might not have understood her earlier. "Shepard, wait… you gave me a lot of support in my pregnancy, and I thought it was you making sure that I was okay before I went into labour. You know, of course I didn't trust you, I didn't even know who you were. So I thought I was safer being off-line for a few days while I waited to hear from you. But now I realize… I'm pretty sure that I couldn't trust *you.*" "Neve, that doesn't have anything to do with your job. You don't trust me?" "Of course I don't trust you. It's fucking stupid. Why did you even ask me to trust you?" "I wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed uncomfortable, and I didn't want to risk losing you." "Neve, you're one of *my* people. You and I will get through this together, and you won't back down from me any more than you did when you joined Omega," I remind her. "I meant to say that I didn't trust you. Now look, this isn't even my story. All it says is that I did not trust you. That's no reason to assume that everything I do with my life has to involve trusting you. But I don't have to trust anyone to make a difference." "My job doesn't depend on being your ally. I *definitely* don't have to trust you, Neve. I'm glad you're asking me, because it means that you're well," I tell her. "So when you give me your space and say 'Trust me'… you believe me, do you not?" "That would be a bit of a shame, wouldn't it?" "You'll figure it out. No one else can make me trust you." "If not *you*, then who? When I… when we lived together for a few months… I wouldn't want the entire galaxy to know about us. I wouldn't want you to be the one who told your parents about us. I won't. I can't. If they knew, they'd think I wasn't *good* enough for you, and you'd think I wasn't good enough for you, and we'd never get together, and we'd separate, and no one would ever be the same. If I hadn't trusted you at that point…" "It's not about that. Look, I know that you're very attractive, and I don't think I could have been the first man in your life, but at that time I… I thought you were what *I* wanted." "I am what I want. I don't want you for whatever reason, but I *do* want you. I want you so much I sometimes forget that I don't trust myself and I don't trust anything else," I add dryly. "Even though if you really wanted someone, then why do you act like I didn't have a chance at you in all that time? I'm kind of surprised that you haven't even told me, by the way. I think you must know, and you know I can't say you don't know I would have loved to kiss you all that time. That I would have done anything to keep you around me for as long as possible." "Neve, I thought I was doing the right thing. It would have been just like you to show me your daughter's report." "No… it would have been the least of my worries if you hadn't showed me yours. I can't promise that if you hadn't then I wouldn't have, but I couldn't think of it, <|endoftext|> ** "So, you want me to go tell Stiles that he's gonna be coming around?" Scott asked. Derek couldn't answer, because he honestly didn't know what was going on. He'd known Stiles for years now, but Scott had no idea where Stiles came from or why he was so attached to the guy. And he knew that he needed to get the message across. He hated it when people didn't want to hear that there were kids being harmed. Scott tried to talk to Derek over the phone. Derek decided to answer as well. "Scott," he said evenly. "This isn't about me or Stiles. It's about Scott and his brother. If you want to stick him in a room with these guys, that's your choice, but you have every right to tell him that they will be coming for him, too." "Oh, fuck off." "I thought you might. He owes you an explanation," Scott continued, not backing down. Derek wanted to say that it wasn't about Scott, but his mind kept telling him it was. "Scott, this is about getting you back home, okay?" "Derek. Stop making this about you." "Okay." He sent Scott a reassuring smile and hung up the phone. That's all it took. His whole world was all about Scott and nothing else, and if Derek just stayed away from him, then that was fine by him. He was going to make sure of it. He didn't even realize he was laying into Scott on the drive to school. "Are you sure about this?" Derek was about to turn on his heel and walk out the door, when Scott's voice said: "You can't make me do this, Dereck. If you're worried about my feelings for Scott, then just tell him that he needs to trust you more. But seriously, just be careful with these guys. They seem pretty much willing to hurt anyone who tries to go against their rule. You don't even need to be with them to know how dangerous they are." Derek was at a loss for words. "Okay, but we have to go now. Then we'll talk about the good news tomorrow," Scott added. Derek shook his head. "Well, I guess that's one of them," he said, with much more confidence than he really felt. "Yeah, I can see that." "Derek, after all of this shit, I still think you're a kind person." "Thanks, man. I hope you know how much I appreciate it." "My feelings still are here, too. The question now is do you want to give them up or not." "Derek, I don't know why you're bothering me about this. Are you trying to trick me? You know I don't see you as a threat. I've seen enough of you that I wouldn't be worried about you hurting me in any way. And your threats never work. You always end up getting yourself hurt." Scott growled and reached forward, trying to wrap his arms around Derek. "That's just how this works. I'm not some baby-sitter who's going to milk you like a cow, but still, we have to talk. I'm trying to help you understand that this is a serious thing, but I won't be able to if you keep beating your head against a wall and going '*dudes, you've got my dick' *and pounding your nails down my back, Derek!" Derek's eyes widened, because his doubts were probably warranted. "Scott!" he squealed. "Don't you think your little brother should know not to go home with anyone that puts them in danger? Your little brother, Derek, is barely old enough to remember the times we were kids and you and I were out in the woods with only our knives and some dirty old newspapers. Don't you think he knows that you don't go around getting yourself hurt by going along with people like these—if you were capable of doing that, you'd be dead before your head hit the pillow!" "You're lucky that I'm not in the middle of helping him fight off these psycho assholes!" "Scott!" "Derek, those people want to kill you, and if I'd been there and had come out with them, you'd be dead right now. It's not about me, it's about you. And those people will do anything to get what they want, and that's my problem here. Because I'm not going to let them hurt you." "I'm not scared of these guys. I'd never hurt you like that, Scott. All of this has happened to me when I was six. I know what it's like to fear and to have to hide. But neither of us can live like that anymore. You've made your point, so if you want to make your point again, then go ahead and let me have a taste of my own medicine." "Says the guy who hasn't even been to high school." "Okay, okay." And just like that, they were back to square one, and there wasn't really much Derek could do about it. *Maybe* Scott would reconsider his advice to go along with his decision to work with the police, but Derek doubted it. To him, it seemed more like he was trying to get revenge on the guy who had hurt him in the past rather than take a risk with the cops. When his thoughts made him stop short, he caught something on the street: *Ted Theodore Jones. Notorious Madman*. It was a handbill with a video from a TV show about serial killers. "Did you see that?" "Not sure. Do you have a phone number for that?" "I do. Email it to me." "No." "Trust me, I'm talking to the very same guy who tried to kill me. I'm sure you know who I am. Or did you see the video?" "Yes." "Can I see it?" "Didn't think so. It's a crime. Maybe if you actually knew how bad it was, you wouldn't want to have anything to do with it anymore." "No one can do anything if you're not here with them. I know it sounds stupid. But…" "Remember," he said firmly, "you're the one who put us here. We live in this city. I'm not letting you walk away. Now go home and tell the police where they can shove their cowardly ass." It was probably more difficult to walk away than he expected, but he really was hoping that as soon as his back was turned, that guy would be gone from his life. After a few weeks of avoiding everything around the city because of his feelings, and while he was certainly glad the police were staying out of it, he was finding it easier and easier to avoid being around people in general because of them. He found it increasingly harder to leave his house, and in the final week, he was becoming hesitant to go out at all. His confusion and frustration didn't go unnoticed by Jason; every time he saw Derek he felt guilty, and the guilt was kind of annoying, but not enough to break up the friendship they'd made. "Listen, I don't have anything more to say to you," Jason stated, standing next to him. "This isn't going to work. Just…just leave." "Why not?" Derek snapped, his anger fading away. "Is it because I'm a pedophile?" "No, no, I mean…what's your deal?" Derek gave him a tight smile. "You don't really think so, do you?" "No, I don't." "Then why are you helping me?" "Because you're a good guy," Jason replied, resting his elbow on the railing. "And a good person deserves to be helped." /chapter content Chapter End Notes > This chapter is up right now! > > Thank you to all of you who took the time to read this long, somewhat protracted story. And to those of you who gave up on reading because you're too busy or because you didn't feel like it. Be assured, this one's up just to the very last line before the end. > > But if you still want to continue reading, I would recommend checking out some of the fanfiction that they have going. They're not perfect stories, but they're good and have a good pace. It's also worth mentioning that I do not claim any of these as canon and it will be up to the readers to decide. The intention of this story is only for entertainment purposes and is completely personal in my opinion and nothing written here is ever supposed to be used outside this fandom for any purpose. > > Also, if you're interested, I created a Spotify playlist called "Handbooks of Reality" that will hopefully give a better idea of the darkness and despair that the characters experience. Plus, it would have been really great if Scott had been so nice to him when they were on their way to the bedroom so that he wouldn't have had to do this. > > [ Spotify link ] > > Chapter 6 --------- Chapter Summary > Derek decides to investigate this playboy serial killer. > > Chapter Notes > Okay, so I've been updating this for about 4 months now, and I didn't actually plan to have another chapter by now, but I realized in the last month that I only just realized that Derek was definitely going to try to talk to him again and decided to include a follow-up chapter. Hope you enjoy! > > - danielle > > chapter content One week after they left Derek in the police station, and 2 months after they first met, he entered the scene of a crime he hadn't been expecting to find. It had become routine since their last encounter. Derek stalked up to the corner store, where the foot traffic was fairly light and he could observe more easily, and leaned against the wall. He didn't want to believe that there was a job out there that required him to do this, and since the last case he worked at the law office, he'd never worked one involving a lead from a mafioso or a criminal. Probably due to his insufferable imagination, he spent about a half hour lingering at the end of his park, watching people walk by and take their time, silently waiting for whatever sick fuck that was the next target to pop up. He'd seen enough murder sprees on TV to know that one of those guys wasn't likely to be the first on his list, but he didn't know what was going on so he figured that he should help. "Okay, so, this is…really bad," he said aloud, searching the shop for the man at the register, but he wasn't here today. Maybe the day was late for the first guy to die, Derek figured, and if he was out on patrol, maybe he'd get off early and move on. It was a relief that nobody else on his immediate area had been taken yet. While making his way through the store, he got familiar with the layout, seeing as he never had to put two and two together before. His fingers flashed through the prices and the fact that the only reason he was getting that much discount this time was because he was a cop. That, combined with the fact that he wasn't expecting any sort of hostility, meant that he was looking for a second-in-command or a backup. He frowned when he found himself staring at a tall guy in his mid-twenties, his long black hair cut neatly to the side, wearing a polo shirt under the standard t-shirt he always wore. He wore jeans and his hair was slicked back. He looked straight at him, and Derek wanted to yell at him, but instead opted for just saying, "You know, I don't think you're a serial killer. Especially since I haven't seen a body on you in…a while, so…" The man scowled and shook his head vigorously. "I'm not gonna lie, but it's probably time to start thinking that I'm one now." "What makes you think I'd kill for money?" "I don't know, maybe I'll get a report that says someone got mugged by one, and you take them in and they ask for a job. I may have been out a couple of days. I'll believe anything." "Right now, no body. No, I'm not here for some little shit like that. See, I'm more worried about you being me on your lunch break, than I am you falling for some skinny, rich, punk kid that's going out of his way to make sure you feel safe." "*Fuck*." Derek dropped his chin and crossed his arms over his chest, elbows resting on his knees. "I'm more concerned with how you plan on surviving if you find yourself in the middle of my turf and you think it's possible." He gestured to himself sharply and sneered at the man. "And I have to say, I've had my fair share of brushes with this kind of thinking, over the years. If it happens, it happens. It's all about the environment, and that's what you are, which is why I work with all these other cops, trying to keep things calm so I can keep an eye on things." The man looked at him sharply. "Not a problem." He looked past Derek, noting his uniform and the low lighting. "Is that your…name?" "Yeah, Derek." "I don't remember hearing about you or anyone else in this precinct. Only…mostly." The man shook his head slightly. "Are you worried about your kid minding the store while we're on shift? I don't think he'd like to deal with a few angry old guys wearing trench coats and shit, do you?" "None of us would." "Ok, maybe he'd try that, but mostly you." A rare smile flickered across the man's face, but it quickly disappeared into something a bit more calculating. "Here, have a tip. Someone needs to know you've been seen here lately." "It's not like I'm up here looking for someone to throw my name in with. Just…sayin' shit." "Y'all are making us look like cowboys, you know." "Shut up, you keep talking." "I am talking, actually. And I'm telling ya that everyone in the office's been getting that look on their faces. Dudes, pay attention." There was a dull thud against the far wall and a boy came out of the opposite side, the entire store yelling at him to hurry up and get into his jacket. "Stay tuned for the new HQ!" Derek slung his coat on, and popped the corner of his mouth open slightly to give the man a warning glance. "Like I wouldn't." "Ooh, lookin' good, kid." "Cops should be careful what they wish for." The man smiled, and Derek cringed slightly. "Ah, stop it! Damn, 'cause my boy is dreamin' up a whole lot of that stuff, and you're no exception. Do a favour for him and he might forget all about your face and your buns and let it go." "Aw, fuck, man. I'm not gonna let that happen, because I can help ya stay alive on the street and down in the station. But…" The man took the hat from Derek, letting it fall to his feet. "This here, I can promise ya. You don't wanna meet me as a friendly greeting. *'S you got a problem, then?" Derek snorted. "I'm not here for your murder skills." "We understand. We're not here to spite ya or anything." "Yeah, right." Derek shook his head. "If there's gotta be a reason to meet here, then fuck." "That's my line, pal." "Ha ha." "Alright, we got help for ya soon enough. You, on the other hand, better be getting your ass into your own fucking bodyguard squad." <|endoftext|> (Click here for the rest of the story.)<|endoftext|>Zoom Lola Maquette The introduction of the lola generation into the world had started a process that would gradually change the way children are raised. Before then, with the introduction of flat feet children were effectively classified by their foot type. They could be one or both, and a specific type of nursery environment is created to cater for children of different foot types. Without looking at what foot they have, parents made the decision as to what to do in order to help their child develop properly. Later on, the growth curve of a particular foot type was exposed. This showed the children growing up and being fully grown without any hesitations. The child must show a certain maturity level, as they can't be treated like an infant, but each year it gradually becomes easier to bring up children to be more confident. Nearsighted children need a lot more care than those with normal sight. There are many reasons for this development of confidence, one of them being the fact that their parents know about their disability. Even though they have an adult that understands what they have to go through, an older sibling helps when you live independently. Also, the methods of control that the person has take center stage when the child grows older. Careful observation of behavior and speech patterns allows parents to teach them simple commands. While they get older their foot may not change, but having a family member to talk with can make things much simpler. The large number of children with special needs will encourage these special needs to be taught at a young age. When I was a child, it was normal for children to be treated like little adults. My parents used to work until 11pm every night. I used to spend my hours reading books to find out where the monsters were coming from. What I didn't know at the time, was that there was another monster hidden just below the surface of my bed. That monster was my own little brother. I remember my mother sometimes used to tell me to brush my teeth before bedtime. If I was lucky she would be in to give me a kiss on the cheek. A week before my birthday, my father found out that I had a sister, "What do you mean you have a brother? It's the third child. *Please explain yourself!*" A day later I received a letter stating that I was being given a new bedroom for my future residence. I was thrilled and couldn't have been happier. What my mother had done to me changed the entire trajectory of my life. When we lived in our current home, my mother had always taught me how to clean. She never did let me out of the room because she saw me as such a cleaning machine. Now, she shows me how to do the dishes when I am in a nursery and there is no other reason for me to be present there. I am not supposed to be there, because it's not enough for me to just serve as a chaperone; I must have some skill. I remember it being so different then when she first taught me. She told me how to brush my teeth and wash my face once every five minutes. When she had been very sick, I would clean her bed after all her masters. I remember seeing her tongue bleed off from being bitten or peed on during my early teenage years, but she always pushed it away. She thought it'd be embarrassing to be caught having sex, or masturbating, so I would only ever see this one time. I believe my housekeeping skills were probably a function of the last time I tried to do all these tasks for myself. When the family moved into our current house, my mother promised she wouldn't let me into the rooms, even though I was becoming proficient in doing them for myself. By the time the family moved into our current house, I knew that my efforts weren't going to go unnoticed. She had already used to making me watch soaps, and I knew what she was referring to. She told me she wanted me to study how to cook and wash dishes from my good graces. After several years of this, I learned enough to keep me busy for long periods of time. When my younger sisters came along, I was able to also learn how to cook and clean. One day while my mother was cleaning around my room, I noticed her brush her teeth and spit into a bowl that was on the counter. She waited until she heard me coming, then scooped up a bit of toothpaste, then put the brush into her mouth. The brushing was slow and painful. I thought for sure she was bored, but my father walked in soon after, knowing my mother didn't have to do it, and immediately grabbed a book. He walked over to the mirror, and looked for a minute. My mother noticed him there, and just let him pull my mouth open for the chores he needed done, "Would you like to do your homework?" He asked me, hand shaking. "Yes. Yes, please." I felt myself start to dry my mouth with my hand, "I'll go back to my book." I needed to memorize the math and science points in there, so I wouldn't forget them. I noticed my mother waiting. I felt her looking over my shoulder, "We are getting ready to eat now. Could you bring your spoon?" I nodded and turned back to the book, which soon became too difficult to read. I thought for sure my mother knew what I was trying to do, and started to look for something else to do, but she ignored my request. She is a genius, and she loved teaching me how to cook and clean. I knew that my intentions weren't good enough for her, but it was too late to back out now, and with her determined determination, she filled the hole of my time deficit. I watched my mother make her way down the stairs, with a spoon in her hand, I held my arms wide. At the bottom of the stairs she stood in front of my kitchen, and made my head turn. There was something to those eyes. It was obvious that she had seen something I had done before, so it made me curious, but I wasn't about to tease her. Even though she had been a bratty child, she was still the second-oldest of three kids. I noticed my father walking toward the kitchen, so I crossed my arms, prepared for what my future mother was going to say. She had been the complete opposite of my mother. She was fiercely independent, and used to standing up for herself. Before she'd learned how to cook, I was cooking. I would plan the meal ahead of time for her, then run out the door after a few days of practice. Once she started learning to cook, my mother only ever cooked if she had a boyfriend in the house. Her brother was always at work, so it was only my mother who gave me a hard time when I tried to cook for us. Once I learned how to cook, she taught me to cook for my future sisters. She always left out her sister's food for her, because she knew my siblings would just ask for something better. I think she did the same for me. She always seemed to get hurt, instead of even thinking about asking her brothers or boyfriends for a healthier meal. She never knew how to cook, but she knew how to cook for my future siblings, and would always offer it to me. She gave me a lot of privileges not even my other moms gave me. When my mother said, "Which one did you want to go first?" I could feel my head nod. She picked what would fill in the empty spaces in the 'housework' category, including cooking. So I sat in the sink, watching her make small cuts with scissors. A big house, it turns out. There was a sink in our kitchen, with a glass floor on the front side, with a smaller sink just behind it, a wall between them, a dish sink at the far back, and an oven on the left. She made me sit in the middle. When we'd watch tv on the ground floor, I'd sit there, pretend to work, or stare off into space for a bit, then follow my mother down to the kitchen. When I started school, my mom's cooking had to be more of a challenge. I didn't know how to cook, or make anything besides pancakes and French toast. I tried my best, but my pancakes were always tasteless and burned. I couldn't make peanut butter for anyone, so my pancakes and French toast was getting eaten up and they were tasteless. If my mom didn't know what was going on, I guess I got away with it, 'cause she never complained. Even when my family was together at dinner, sometimes we would finish each other's cooking. I'd figure out a recipe, and watch my mom make a mess of it. At least my mom knew how to cook. "I'm sure you can't really help, since I know how to make these things anyway." I could hear my mother's voice, and I slowly turned my head. She was making lots of cuts in the kitchen, making her cutlery look perfect. Her voice was getting louder and her chopping sounds more annoyed. "It'd be much faster if you were just there." I stared at my mother, trying to figure out what she was talking about, so I listened closer. "I'd just make up the food for you, and leave it out for me to pick up." I nodded, and felt myself relaxing a little as my mother slapped my forehead with a rolling pin. "I wish you could do that, but your cooking skills suck." The bluntness of her words confused me, but then it hit me. I could understand a few things, but was hoping she wasn't talking about something as simple as cooking. "But I should be able to figure something out." My mother had me on the spot, and I shook my head, as if that would change anything. "I don't even know how to cook, you don't have to know how to cook to make me cook." This time, I didn't even try to speak. I closed my eyes and licked my lips. "Really? I need to make things for you, okay? I could probably figure it out, but that's not what my mother wants to hear." She looked like she had just gotten punched in the gut, and that part made me a little scared. "Do you mean you want to cook for me? Do you really want me to cook for you?" I knew how to cook, and had helped my mother out a few times, but I hadn't really been able to cook for my mother for a few years now. "I don't know about that." That sounded like she had expected me to answer by saying something like, "Yes, I really want to cook for you." I shrugged, and mumbled my mother's name, "Teddy." She gaped at me. "Teddy?" I frowned as I took another sip from my water. My mother had asked about me several times over the past year or so, every time asking about my status with my dad, and saying things like, "Was it good?" or "Did it taste good?" or "I thought it tasted good," or, "I thought it didn't taste good," or, "How is it?" "Good," I would say on every occasion. Now I was being asked whether I wanted to cook for my mother, and whether I wanted to actually do it. My mother shook her head, still looking just a little disgusted, and turned back to cutting the vegetable sausages I had in the fridge. "You should really go wash your hands before you do anything." I nodded, and watched as my mother started to cut some pepperoni on the stove. I decided it might be better to go to the bathroom first. It was that time again. After a long week, I was desperate for a break from everything. I hadn't watched one episode of The Walking Dead since I found out that my father was alive. He was killed by Glenn, who I really didn't know at all, because Glenn was very average, and he had no idea who my father was. I was pretty certain he thought I didn't know, since I hadn't discussed it with my parents. And this time, I felt like my mind wasn't going to be made up until I actually sat down and watched one episode. I couldn't wait for my mom to get done with the food, and as soon as I began to realize it was still morning, I decided to skip breakfast. I remembered what my mother said, but I wanted to tell her that I didn't want to talk about my dad's death, and that I would only bring it up when I was ready. And I wasn't ready yet, but I hoped that my mother wouldn't find out from Glenn right after telling me about my dad, and from then on, I would tell her the truth. "S'okay," my mother came up to me and put her hand on my shoulder. "Go get your food. You should eat before you get back." My face flushed pink, and I immediately got back to cutting the pepperoni. I made a quick cheese and ham breakfast, but I felt like my mom should be able to use her mind to figure out that something important was going on right now. I noticed that my mother seemed tired again, which explained why she was surprised to see me there, and I took my time getting into the bathroom, so I wouldn't be observed. I waited until my mom had finished eating, then I shucked off my clothes and walked into the living room. "Your hair is over there," I pointed and pointed at my pile of laundry. I heard my mom yell my name before I ran into my room. "Do I get to be the only one to see you naked in your room?" I waved at her before getting dressed. "Why do I see you naked anyway?" She stopped me, and I hesitated for a moment before answering. "Because you're naked too?" I furrowed my eyebrows, and waved the question back. "Because I'm too." I grinned and crossed my arms. She laughed, "Well, I'm glad you have told me, because you're most certainly not done." I grinned, and flicked my eyes toward my pile of clothes. "Except for the underwear and the socks." I wrinkled my nose, and asked, "Why did I do those?!" She rolled her eyes, and nodded her head. "For the same reason that you did. You were curious about who was in the room, and you wanted to get to know who was in it, weren't you?" I bit my lip, and tried to think. "Yeah, sure," I said. "Then why are there less underwear and socks here than there were here before?" She watched me with raised eyebrows, and smiled, "Well, why not? It's fine to have different sizes for different purposes. For instance, have underwear for when you need to pee and don't want to stand up." I tried to think of her words as I stripped off my clothes and straddled my bed. "But...I was expecting...other things!" I paused. "What kind of things?" She laughed, "Oh yeah! You haven't been keeping track of what your day has been like?" I leaned forward a little, and shot her a glance with a smirk. "Now, don't get me wrong. I love every minute of it." She waved her hands over my body as she spoke. "You don't know how much I like it when you just sit there and listen to me talk. Especially when I talk about you in very much intimate terms, knowing that your eyes are trained on me like a hawk. I'm such a whore for it." I squeezed her hand on the outside of my body, and explained, "My thoughts are probably a little off, because this room doesn't have regular cameras, and the ones that are installed have to be able to see right up to your face, so they don't record." She shrugged, "It's fine." She turned her attention back to me, and I pulled on my own clothes, except for my shirt, and walked toward the TV. "So, where did you learn to do what you've done?" I nodded my head, and she leaned back, glaring at me. "I think you could learn another skill for the bed, if you ever do anything like that again. Like, if your one skill was being able to make chocolate chip cookies, you could make some of the most amazing woodworking tools if you ever wanted to. I mean, even mine is better than yours. And I think you'd like them, since you're doing something so creative with them." I smiled, "I think I'd enjoy making something new and awesome with you." I pushed open the cabinet doors, and grabbed the tools I would need. "I can't wait until I get to play this game with you." She frowned. "Don't you have a shower before bedtime already?" I gestured toward the fridge, and she shook her head. I started cutting out pieces of wood, and began to look through my room and the rest of the house for different pieces. Once I had the bare minimum <|endoftext|> "I'm the leader, what would you know, you never led before." "No one asked you to." He smiled wide, narrowing his eyes at her. "You're that important to me, aren't you? And besides, I'm sure I can manage it." "Well, I'm guessing that will depend on how well I hold up." She looked down and buried her face in her hands. "I'll be there to defend you if need be." She bit back a smile at the sudden expression on his face. "What's up?" "Do you remember what happened the last time I was involved in a girl's dream? You got the Vex back to her ship, but she didn't make it?" He waved his finger at a picture of the girl floating in the air. "You died." "That was the only time." "Do you remember the dream?" "Yeah." "And after that?" His hand rose to rest on her shoulder, and she could feel the warmth. "A week later, I woke up and there was a man standing over me," she admitted. "Not dead. Not even very much alive." "I knew the ship was being used, that *he* had tried to kill me, but I couldn't figure out why. Who's he?" "He's a Warlock called  Vex'ahlia. She's the leader of the quest." "Oh." His voice sounded odd. "I'm not much for politics." "You were heading for the very building where he'd once been." "I don't suppose that'll confuse you, hmm?" "I can't imagine," she said, giving him a doubtful look. "Sorry. I don't have much respect for that sort of thing." "So I should keep my mouth shut." "What does that even mean?" "Just - just shut up for one sec," he said, shaking his head. "The other thing about politics is that I'd like a leader. I've got no doubt the people want one. And given that I'm currently involved in a situation that will grant me access to them, I'd like to know who you're working for. I'd also like to know if you got yourself kidnapped or anything like that." "It's not really my place to say," she muttered. "Let me guess - you're not involved with the Wight thing, then." "I've never heard of a Wight. So tell me what I'll get?" "You're not helping." He's almost laughing at her exasperated sigh. "You know this is just a dream, right? You don't really get all this stuff until after you wake up in the morning, right?" "I wouldn't." "That's fine, I can't tell." "Would you mind if I changed my mind later on?" "Maybe." He looked disappointed. "If you don't tell me now, I might ask again tomorrow." "I'd rather not." He gave her a wry smile. "So I don't remember you here, or the geth, or anything, right?" "Just your friend right here, Seb," she mumbled as she shook her head. "And I came to deliver a message." "Who?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You've heard about us before," she said. "But I've no idea why you're here." "Just make sure I find you and whatever's going on is over." "Okay." She shot him a sideways glance and jumped a little when he stiffened. "Well, I'm going to assume you already know that it's an Alliance mission." "Oh." "Right, okay." She sighed, pulling the phone from the cradle on the edge of the couch and turning to wave goodbye. Her voice crackled in the background as she pulled away. "Sir!" she cried, pushing up her glasses as she stepped through the door. "So what the hell is this about?" "Okay, don't flatter yourself. It's not a mission. But that's what happened last time." He nodded towards the window, then raised a brow. "And you didn't look very pleased when I told you you were sleeping with a guy who killed three humans?" "Oh, you're kidding, right? I didn't have to tell you that." She felt herself blush. "You know, I had to remind you. You know, I'm here because I have a pretty good idea about where you're going with this. You're trying to flirt with an Alliance NPC so you can ask for his attention like you did with my ex, right?" "I made a promise to not do that," he said quietly. "Are you going to stay over here forever and get nothing done?" "My job isn't to wait. And while I do appreciate the opportunity to do a better job of taking care of you, I have plans." She caught sight of him looking at her and relaxed. "Hey, don't say that, dude. I could be doing this for a lifetime. Right? I mean, if we decide to end this, that's fine, but the point is: I'm your most precious and important asset, and I'd rather that I keep you around as a friend than as a houseguest." "That's true, but you're on this ship for *my* benefit. You don't owe me much, I think." "I'm not saying I'm completely indifferent to you. I think we'd be best friends if you were with us forever." "Would you take it off?" He quirked a brow. "Why?" "Because it's distracting me." She trailed her thumb along the surface of the counter. "It's not that there's anything wrong with you, or me, or being together in bed - it's that talking to this guy makes me feel the urge to look at him all the time. Is that an acceptable risk? Asking you out should probably be part of the job description anyway, but it's the awkward ones that get me anyway." He didn't answer right away. She made a face. "Do you really think I'm some kind of gay fish?" "You are. And I am the sexiest." "Uh - can you please go somewhere else? I feel like I'm suffocating." "Um, I wouldn't mind. I'd prefer to keep my options open." "I can be your too-long-distance boyfriend for real." "Okay, well, I just can't imagine you'd let me into your sex life. That's not something I'd ever suggest, thanks. And I just don't like the idea of having someone else make these kinds of decisions for me." "I wasn't your boyfriend." "You probably weren't, either, and I'm not judging you for it." "Oh, really?" "No, really." Seb's eyebrow lifted. "I was just wondering how you would feel if you knew I was in love with you." "Oh? So you're a lesbian then?" "I have *never *been, actually." "Okay. I guess I was kind of hoping you hadn't changed your mind about this whole thing." "Of course I have. Your friend over here has a boyfriend who I thought went back on their end and wound up killing me with his .50 cal." He paused. "Unless you don't count things like weed and happiness as a part of your other person, though." "I just don't think of my own attraction as a part of me." "Yeah, well," Seb replied, "that's the basic gist of my argument." "You know what? I don't think I could care less what you think. If you decide to disagree, fine. Just know you've got my full support." "Alright. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm already in love with you, so I guess I can offer my support." "Really? I can't wait to see you in the morning." "Of course you can." "You know what?" "Yeah." She winced. "You're the reason I'm here." "Sure, buddy. Thanks for letting me crash for a night, too." "If you ever need something, just let me know. No pressure. I'm a good guy." "You wouldn't be thinking of me, though. I mean, I probably won't ever let you know this, but I've never got to kiss anyone before and I kinda like the idea. It's just always made me think of you, and it would make me happy to run into you out of the blue and kiss you. I'm sure it would be nice." "I think that we could probably split the bill." "Who would do the counting?" "You, obviously, but I can do it too. Just give me a shout when you want it. Have fun! And maybe don't tell him I said that." "I wouldn't go through any effort at all. I figure he wouldn't want to go anywhere near me after what he did." "Please!" Seb nodded. "I'll call and tell you when my pay's due, no matter what." "You'll only be a big brother to me for one day, Seb. You owe me nothing." "I didn't think about it. I mean, now I want to kiss you, and you're still my big brother, but I wouldn't want to go through with it unless you were on board with it." "But I am! And I don't think I'd be able to do it without falling for you." "Fine," Seb sighed. "Just don't tell him I said that." "Aw, come on. You're not trying to hide anything, are you?" "That is true. I'm probably more curious than anything." "Well, if he's lying to me, I'll know it." "Yeah, alright. No pressure." "Seb...I'm going to make a pass at him, and then I'm going to have sex with you. Don't worry. I'll just do what you taught me, and don't worry. I might kiss him, and I might not, but I'm still a big brother. I just refuse to take advantage of you." He smiled and patted her ass. "C'mon, girlie." "Not until you kiss me." "Come on. Just one night!" "Only if I promise not to touch you. Or give you second thoughts." "Alright." Seb's smile widened. "Deal." /chapter content Chapter End Notes > Seb is actually very set on keeping his options open, so I guess this is the best chapter yet. > Also, Seb has a date with his list tomorrow evening. So yeah, that's definitely not a typo. > > Okay, just realized I forgot this on the blog post, so sorry for all the typos. > > -peter > > Waiting to Be Kissed ------------------------------------- Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes7) chapter content Seb sat on the front porch of his house, waiting for the right time to bring his friend back for another round of jokes. His hands were busy adjusting his sweater, which had finally returned from the laundry, seemingly forgotten. He couldn't see his watch, but he knew he had some time to wait. "She'll be back before noon!" Seb retorted. "What a coincidence." Seb muttered. "Are you serious?" Seb laughed, his mind churning. "She could just show up and disappear. A gift I didn't even know about?" "Don't call it that. I'm aware. I'm joking." "I hope you are. I think you might be scared. Some people aren't very well concealed." Seb rolled his eyes. "Honestly? No one is walking away from you." "Are you trying to drive me away? Being afraid of an invisible woman seems awfully unlikely." "Whoa! Yeah, I'm trying to convince you to give up and go be by yourself in your room forever." Seb smirked, "Before you find a new girlfriend." "I've been single since I was a kid." "You're not a kid anymore, Seb." "Alright, I might be." "Good." Seb smiled, "I look forward to spending the day with you again. Just some time alone." Seb hadn't lied about his feelings. Seb loved Sebastian. They were long lost brothers once again. It was like having an old friend return, someone who was actually interested in you. It was *very nice.* In fact, Seb wanted to stay by Seb, even more than he'd thought he'd want to stay by him for. It took them all of five minutes for Seb to go down on his knees, and the sooner they got into the act the better. "You're cute." The moment the words left Seb's mouth, Sebastian made a great move. He grabbed Seb by the hips and pulled him down with him, so their positions were now almost horizontal. Their mouths were now almost touching. "So, who's the little sister?" Seb cocked his head, waiting for the answer. Seb narrowed his eyes, "Babette." "So, uh, two sisters, huh?" Seb shrugged. "I don't have any other brothers, so whatever, I guess." "Can I do something for you?" Seb jumped off the porch and landed on his feet. "Don't push yourself too hard." He teased Seb, sliding down his body so they were fully in each other's space. Seb laughed, "You've always told me you're in love with me." Seb dug his heels in, "But that's been long forgotten." "Guess I'm picking up the pieces now, my dear." Seb threw his arms around Seb's neck, kissing him passionately. "Take me back to your place, babe. And make me blush." Seb snickered. "Okay, tell me we can do it more often, or do you want to just go out with me every now and then, when I'm not home?" Seb looked at him fondly, "I mean, don't get me wrong. I think you're a good man, but I'm more in love with you than I ever thought I would be." He leaned over Seb, pulling him closer into his chest. "I'm almost convinced you weren't trying to make me fall in love with you, Sebastian." Seb let his tongue run around Sebastian's bottom lip. "I'll leave you alone for a minute. Can I be your friend? Please, my love. Be my boyfriend. I need you." Seb let go of Seb and moved in to hug him again. He could still taste his lips on Seb's. "We'll be friends, yes, but we'll have other things in common, too. And, uh, good luck getting that girl if she's available." "Yeah. I guess we can try." "It really does smell good this morning, doesn't it?" Seb smirked, "Say what you want, Seb. I told you I wouldn't date anyone else, remember? You make me happy." "I do." He grinned. "Or, I could, you know. You said you liked me, and you seemed upset when I told you I was sorry I didn't want to be with someone other than you. I just needed to know that there were other people besides you, and maybe you'd be okay with having me back. I can tell when you're being comfortable with something. Sometimes it feels awkward, like you need to prove <|endoftext|> –Can I stick a finger in you? –You're welcome. "Thank you, like I said," Mikey says, probably reaching his last all of fifteen seconds before he keels over. Ned struggles to push off the table so he's sitting on the floor, his feet kicking against the glass as he falls onto his back. The lights dim and show him Mikey is sprawled across the other side of the room. "Heh, I'm going to do you. Before I have to call 9-1-1." –Okay, now what? –Back up. –You have her. –What? You don't have me. –No, but you'll get me. And I know you know this already, but you're my number one priority. Remember that. Ned keeps his eyes fixed on the body of the kid who has caused so much stress in his life. He's proud of himself for having done this job without so much as a blink or flinch. Like it doesn't really matter if he kills the kid because the end result is still in good hands and he can still go home tonight with at least a handful of dollars left in his pocket. It's not like any of them know it but he's been working as a bouncer for months now. For his law degree, after the ball was dropped in Florida and he lost the guy he went on vacation to… that's when he started working as a bouncer. For his family. "Get up," Mikey says, sounding pissed but he's standing. "And you'll listen to me or *pfff* you could make your rounds and come back any time. Like right now. And you know you said you'd be honest. So just do it." –Because your gonna ruin my whole life with this shit, dude. Mikey sighs, brushing his hand over his forehead. "Lucky for us though, I'm pretty good with a lie. See, I saw your car over there and decided I didn't wanna pay for that ride you needed that so I decided to leave you here alone on your own to cry it out and I figured you'd be right next to me so you could help me out if you wanted too. That's how I came up with this 'I'll tell him once I'm back' bullshit. Cuz you are here to help me, aren't you? So you better believe I'm gonna tell him whenever I'm done with you. Deal?" A few minutes later, Mikey is lying on the floor next to Ned, bending down so he can reach into his pockets to pull out a metal bowl. He's held up by his finger in the direction of the door before Nosedive gets there, arms crossed and his shoulders back. The kid looks up, mouth open a little, expecting more from Mikey as he lies on his stomach near the hanger. "How did you find me?" he asks, voice thick and cool as he sits on his haunches. "…I got a signal inside for the guy," Mikey shrugs. Ned watches him for a minute. "Is there any way you can prove he's really dead?" "The man I saw got me a bad reputation and I never stopped trying to get these men to talk 'bout what's happened." "If it was just one guy talking I wouldn't need proof," he points out. "But I don't wanna wait for you to tell me because he's not going to. If there's two guys they might try and frame me but it's one to two odds. And even if two of them I've seen the kid's face enough times to figure that he ain't that kind of person." Ned tosses his head back and forth a couple of times, ignoring the looks his friend gives him. "Not many people can do that, at least not after they get caught. But I'm not gonna let him get away with it. I have a mission." "For me too." Ned leans forward. "But this kinda happened to you too, Mikey?" "Look, we'll explain. And you don't gotta wait for him to talk about it first, you wanna go right ahead." –Oh my God. I'm so sorry, dude. Mikey smiles, shifting his weight back up as he leans back against the wall. "It ain't gonna be easy for either of us, alright? I'm still your friend. You owe me that. And we're past all this since the kid said he owes you. Aint that right?" Ned doesn't say anything, sitting down on the table. "Yeah, I guess I have some stuff to think about," he says quietly. "But you just remind me every day how you got us through so much, and I'll remember that." Ned grabs his knees and lifts them up so he can look back at his friend. "Hey, ya gotta meet my girl. She got the goods to do this job right. So, tell her I sent you." Ned keeps his eyes fixed on Ned, watching him for a beat to see if he looks surprised or surprised to hear his friend talk about someone else. "I thought you were gonna say she got it from her father, too." "Hey, she gave me the details." "So why don't you tell me how she did it?" Ned puts his hands on his hips and looks at him. "Just give me a minute." After another minute, he turns to face Mikey. "Hey Mikey. Don't worry. I'll tell her when I'm ready." "Okay. Well, I made you a deal, too. All I wanna know is: what happened, where, and who was killed? Also I gotta know who handed me that info. I need information to confirm it's my or not," he says, rolling his eyes. Mikey's eye's widen. "What are you talking about?" "Nothing is gonna make me tell you any other than that." "Your side of the story?" He rolls his eyes again. "That's your job, buddy. I don't need to hear it twice." He looks back at Ned. "Thanks." Ned takes that as a sign for him to finish and leans back. "Ok, so I take it what you're asking is who did it?" Ned leans back onto his elbows, giving Mikey a long look before pushing himself up. "Probably Nosedive. This job ain't easy and he knows it, especially when he's getting double jeopardy." "And he did," he agrees. "I believe he did," he admits. "How 'bout it, just who did it and who got killed?" "Nope. 'Bout fucking nothing." Ned just shakes his head. "I have it covered. The only one I'm worried about is the kid." "He?" Mikey rolls his eyes. "Well, you told me about him too. Well, ya can tell I know you know. I can just pull your damn foot out from under ya if ya wanna lead me right into somethin' else." Ned looks at him, frowning. "I never gave up yer name." "How can ya not give it to me, buddy?" "Because *I* was the one who told you. Yeah, I kinda wanted ya to know. But you were kinda in my mind first." He raises an eyebrow at him. "Been too long since I last heard ya'talkin' about that, huh? I figured I'd give ya'a little nugget a warning shot." Ned glares right back. "Glad ya' can smell the bullshit I'm wearin'." "You not down wit it or not?" He grins. "Nah. I haven't told ya'about that lil nugget for years." Mikey chuckles. "Yep, ya' didn't. No harm done yet." "Damn right you didn't." He jumps a little bit. "Please tell me that's a lie." "I'm sorry I took ya'nam up on th' offer." "No, it wasn't me." Ned starts moving towards the door. "It was me. I'm just telling ya' more about yer old man, *cause I'm scared ya' might not be enough ta give me an answer." *"*After all, *that* was a request from someone else and not ya'self. Ya' know what I'm sayin'? I went a bit overboard." He stops right in front of it, looking up at Mikey, mouth open like he wants to make an excuse or something. "Havent you seen this boy, Mikey? His name's Matt. Ain't that right?" Mikey shakes his head. "Mmmm, yeah. Only seen ya' once before. Sure." "Matt ain't that old, not sure how ya' remember but he wasn't one of ya' – uh, how ya' got his name either, ya' remember?" He waves his hand. "He let ya' have that girl back to ya' house when ya' didn't have any other options. He was there while you hid from the police and all the shit that went down. But the… ah… I mean, me and him… Yeah, he gave ya' that information to me. He asked ya' for help, but ya' didn't think ya' could be trusted because ya' had a family. Now, I know ya' always believed ya' were strong and fuckin' independent but believe me, this nigga knew." "And ye' ain't lettin' that fucker help ya' anymore?" He didn't have anything to lose anyway. Ned groans. "Nah. Ya' could call him and tell him what happened, but ya' probably wouldn't get anythin'. Ya' saw he had that power, you could've just told him what ya' did. It ain't like we'd go in there and tell ya' what ya' did to anyone else. Y'know, like, there's too many things ya' would've thought of ta even consider." He seems genuinely hurt, he's already come off like he's bitter. "I was being honest with ya' but it was better for ya' to understand that ya' can't trust the police and that they can lie too." "You've been here that long, Mikey?" He's always got plenty to do before you came along. "Uh, about fifteen years." "In that time ya' kinda lost interest?" "Guess. Ye' could say that." "Why did ye' have ya'dad's money in that cupboard by ye' room?" Mikey had figured that was supposed to make him curious. It seemed like a silly way for them to get drunk, maybe.. "We had a little furniture thing. I didn't mind having it in the shop because ya' sure ain't seen everything, but when we went back there was this big rucksack on ya' hands. At first it was goin' down the drains so that was kind of freaky, then we threw it away. A friend of mine said it looked like somebody tried to throw somethin' into the sea but that ain't all we did, ya' know. We made a fire, a nice cozy fire, but we wasn't particularly spiritual and if anybody asked me now when I asked if I ever did that, I might answer, 'kind of.'" He shakes his head. "Anyway, it wasn't always in there, it wasn't quite the right spot." "So I guess I've missed ya'." "I… uh… I've missed ya' b'fore." Ned laughs, blushing. "Guess. Got him here twice before you." "Right." He nods. "I'll take ya' to the police station later, okay? But if you don't mind me askin' you as a favour… though, I guess you don't mind because ya' ain't the police. You know tha one." Mikey nods. "Yeah, I guess. Here's the deal. If ya' don't mind me askin' you… find your own answers, okay? And if ya' regret it… tell me, okay? Got no hope in the world of you not regretin' it, right?" "Is this a date?" "Does it matter?" "Takin' ya' out to buy an apple pie is a date. Good for ya'." Ned snorts and shakes his head, rolling his eyes. "Nah, she's fine. Never better. Not like I'm gonna give up her sidekick for a taaster." Mikey chuckles. "You're half right. She's not the only thing I've got. Besides… even if ya' wanna go easy on me, ya' might want to keep an eye on him, she's kinda been on ya' radar for a while now. And trust me, he's good for ya' cause there's this one night the next week and…" He stops. "They say you gotta burn the witch too, I dunno why that's the lesson but…" "Look, I'm sorry I ever had to see her, and I am so glad ya' found her safe and sound, but ya' ain't gonna destroy her unless ya' have to. Y'know, ya' can tell me when ya' feel ya' need ta start and I'll tell ya. Maybe ya' wanna tell me but ya' can't tell me if ya' don't want to. And if ya' wanna know the truth about her, ya'll have to talk to me first," he adds with a laugh. "But if y' wanna know how I felt, ya'll just have to talk to me." "Why don't ya' tell me some stories?" He figures he won't get more answers from him, besides that he's probably hurt that he found her alive so it'll be easier if he keeps quiet. "Because I ain't tell ya' stories. They ain't gonna leave ya' nothing but words. If ya' wanna know what's happened or what I did to ya', ya'll have to ask me about her." "What was she like?" "*How did *she sound?" "How did she sound? What did ya' think of her?" " *What do *you mean? Did she smile or was she mad?" "Well she *came *back *after *some *time *and said it ain't fair *we're *all on the same team and that I'm supposed to wanna look out for her and that she's gonna fight for us all the way, and…" He pauses. "She sounded like a good person…" He concludes, he thinks he knows what you mean. Mikey tilts his head to one side. "Yeah… she was just like you, you're probably still thinkin' of her sometimes and ya'll might never see her again if ya' are lucky and get to do that thing where ya' have a dream and you put it into th' real world. Ya' were right, she was good natured and honest." "What was she like?" He nods. "Like this?" He nods. "Where ya' thought she could do somethin' for ya just 'cause ya' prayed to her?" "Exactly. That's what ya' thought. So when ya' put your god-complex on hold and came at her like she was supposed to be there for ya, she's like, 'yeah, that's my job and ya' can do what ya' want to', ya' just wanna make sure she's gonna make ya' heart happy' and that's… that's when ya' lost her and that's *not* easy to heal." He clenches and unclenches his fists. "And it ain't fun or anything either, but ya' gotta figure somethin' out. Right now she doesn't mean much, she ain't supposed to be part of ya' life and ya' shouldn't try to make it seem like she meant a damn thing." He pauses. "Yeah, that part ain't any good either. So when ya' think it's better to just find a fight ya' might as well go for it." "Got it." Ned nods. "Alright. Are ya' ready to come to watch over the other kid?" "Yep," he says firmly. "Don't worry bout it, it's <|endoftext|> His eyes flicker, and he thinks of something he'd said the night before, along with the twist in his voice. "Hey, Will." He says the words carefully, quickly, without looking away from him. Will knows he's never been here before, not really, and it takes a little extra effort not to watch him closely. Instead he watches his face, sees the uncertainty in those sad dark eyes. "Can you let me know when you're ready?" The laugh that stops Will in his tracks is enough to bring him back to where he is, to where he came from, with his dad at his side. "Wha? Just answer me." Will tries to pull away again, but two quick fingers dig into the flesh of his thigh, with the insistence that says Will has no intention of leaving. It makes his dick twitch against his own, a desperate slap to Will's, his breath quickening at the feel of touch on his skin. He trails his fingertips up and down Will's leg, in equal measure physical as he feels his own body tense up. "You've got to get ready now, Will." Will flinches, the twinge at his mouth and the anger in his stomach playing out before his mind can stop it. "What do you think? I've had to do this before, remember?" "I'm guessing you haven't." The fingers on his thigh are trailing down his leg, towards his boxers, feeling him through them. Will tenses, waiting for something, anything to happen, but the fingers don't leave his thigh. "Do it," it says. "I want it bad, and I want it now." The sound of his voice is so different now, and Will wonders if it's just the stress of the moment or if it's true. If it's time for him to be fucked raw, brought down to his knees like a forgotten child by some desperate stranger. It doesn't matter. What matters is how hard he tries to keep himself from fucking coming, and the sheer ease with which it happens. It takes him a long time to come, and he doesn't blame Will. He really wants it to stop. He'd thought it was going to take a couple of days at the most, but instead it took him *hours.* So much had gone on in the time he'd been waiting for his cock to disappear, and all he could think about at the time was fucking Will. He feels Will sink into his hand as he comes, the intensity and the grease making his head spin. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it, he really did. He knows it's over when Will's cock disappears, his balls emptying, his legs sopping. With a frustrated sigh he starts to rise. "Right. You're off, then." He brings his fingers up to his lips and kisses them. "Thank you." He tries to stand, but cannot even get halfway, turns back to his hand, and a fresh wave of frustration rolls over him. *Will, the next time I decide I'm going to go through with this, I'm going to fuck you senseless,* he thinks, letting his lips trail across his knuckles. "Fuck." It's those words that draw him back from Will, who raises an eyebrow and raises up his eyebrows, but for once, his expression is more amused than anything. "You alright?" "Of course I'm alright, I've got that bruise on my face, and my stomach is still sore." He looks down at the floor. "If you insist." Will blinks, because it's not as though he's ever considered what Will might be capable of. This is new. "Told you I'd come around." And while he knows that Will can make him feel this way, he doesn't push the thought. He pushes it out of his mind, because *that'll show him*, because there's nothing to show. He'd done it once, once for his father, in an alleyway on the way back from a date, doing whatever, and it didn't have any lasting consequences, only the bruises on his face, the way he thought he'd feel at the end of it, that he felt now. He'd done it to *other people* and they hadn't been any better. They were some of the closest to him, but it didn't work out. So when Will asks, "Are you sure you're okay, Will?" he can't help but hear the trace of confusion in his voice, and thinks that perhaps this will be the first time he's considered it in some ways. Will doesn't respond, even when he admits that it had worked before. Not before… The scrutiny that passes between them doesn't last long, and once Will's looked him right in the eye he just blinks again, jerks his head to the side, "How'd you think that would work?" "You're shitting me." He stops and smiles. "Fuck you, and fuck you for trying." He stands up, then, shoves his pants down, then drags them back up. "Let's get out of here, shall we?" Will does the same. "So...I think, what I was gonna say was...we could have always gotten even," Will mumbles, and Will laughs before getting to the real point. "And maybe, I do mean that, I think...you should try it again. With someone else, no pressure." And even though he's mostly amused by it, it's easy to imagine what he'd say if Will didn't agree. Will twists his face into a sheepish grin. "God, yes. Yeah, I think we should. Fuck, I know it'd probably be a bit weird for you, but I think it would be great if you wanted to." He shrugs. "If that's what you're after." "And if it is, I'll have you know I've been through this pretty much twice now. Once as a kid in the schoolyard, and once as a grown-ass man making out in an alleyway when I fucked up in every aspect of my life for what felt like forever." Will straightens his back to accentuate this. "One 'cuz no one was there to save me. One 'cuz I fell for the first person that offered, and I was able to live that down for the rest of my life because it meant they cared, even though they weren't actually true friends." And then he tells him exactly what he thought, the need at the bottom of it, and the fact that he'd have to give Will a chance first, because Will had been a hopeless prick a long time ago, and that wasn't going to change, no matter how hard he thought he needed it, and that's before the pity and regret to come. Will glances at him through his eyelashes, a smirk on his face. "Well. That'll teach me to get involved with the wrong people." And if Will had found that funny, the idea of that kind of, you know. *Yeah, right*. He pulls himself up to his knees, and Will's the slightest bit taken aback at how soft the sheets are. "So what, I get to spin the wheel again?" He leans in a little further to take a better look, and gets a smirk in return. "Don't get too comfortable." He kisses him. Will pushes back from him, grabbing at his shoulders and pulling him closer. "Alright, let's try this again, shall we? Have you done this before?" "No." "Then it has to be with someone else, that doesn't mean that you're failing if I screw up my pleasure or fuck up your enjoyment." "Will." He closes his eyes, teeth lightly digging into Will's bottom lip. "I promise, nothing is going to go wrong with this." He runs his hands over Will's back. "Feel good?" "I-…" Will swallows, "I don't understand. I mean, I want to please you. You said that not too long ago, you want to please me, too." "That's going to sound so fucking daft to you," Will corrects. "Is that why we're doing it again?" He bites at Will's bottom lip. "Because if you need some reassurance that I'm not messing it up-" "No, because I don't get enough of that. Me and you." Will pulls back enough to look up at him. "Fuckin' hot, yeah. So fuckin' I can go with you to bed, fuck yeah I love it." He leans in and takes a deep, careful breath. "It's...been awhile." Will moves closer still, tipping their heads so their noses are together. "I don't remember." He watches Will for a few seconds, then his lips press into Will's. They kiss, and Will can feel his mouth heating up; it feels like- "So much has happened, haven't you noticed?" He gives Will a fake smile, and gives him a wink before he pushes up onto his elbows and presses against him. "Maybe I'll do something about it after tonight, because I know it's been awhile." "Couldn't have said it better myself, wouldn't have believed it." "Exactly. Now, if you want to go this time? Or do we just keep doing it?" He presses into him, tilting his hips a little, which is fucking perfect. "It's not about you," Will says, kissing his neck. "I wanna get off for good, okay, and that's not changing, regardless of what others think about it." "You know I love you, don't you?" "I know." Will kisses him again, this time slower, more tender. "I've told you so many times that it's always about us." "But," Will's voice is low and strained. "But that doesn't stop me from asking the question, does it?" Will's lips find his again, getting a little rougher, and he takes a step back. "Would you really want something from me that was going to require you to be with me for a night in a hotel? Or would you really want something with me that was going to make me dance naked around the bed with you?" "I love you, love you." Will smiles. "Like I said, I know it's crazy that it took me this long, but I want you to do what you want to. And...you know, you made that point pretty clearly to me, so I guess I'll follow. So I want you to suck me off." Will raises a brow. "Um, ok. And?" "And I want to feel everything you do to me. Is that clear?" "Of course. Are you certain you don't want a blow job? I don't mind." "I…I want to believe it's all about you," Will concedes. "And I want you to know that I'm yours." "Good boy," Will bites at his bottom lip, hefting him up so he's lying on his back on the bed. "And I'm going to take my time." "Okay?" Will groans, turning his head so that he can look at Will's face. "Then what do you want?" "What do I want, huh?" Will asks. He finds the right angle and presses down onto him until he's able to hold onto him, angling them both so they're about to come. He keeps them there for a few moments, until Will pulls off and climbs back up on the bed. "I want you to fuck me," he says. "I wanna see you. I want to love you. And I want to know that you're mine." Will opens his mouth, his body bent over the blankets and his face in the pillow, watching him slowly undress. "You have to touch me," he says. "If you want me to...to cum." Will grins. "First, I need you to fuck me." "That's ok," Will says with a wink, turning to face him again. "Second, when I come, I'm going to just cum. And whoever gets to sit on my face the longest, will get to cum first." "I'm going to be the first," Will says. "I want it with you. I wanna look at you and watch you cum, and when it happens, I want it with you." Will looks down at him. "I love you." "I love you, too." ~~~ When Will rolls over, he watches Will. He watches him before he comes, watching the headlight of Will's car scrape through the parking lot in the twilight, looking down at him without saying a word. When he does, he smiles. "Nice." "Thanks," Will says. "I'm glad you didn't talk me out of it," Will says, and passes him the bottle of lube. Will laughs. "You can say no." Will starts sliding the nozzle under Will's body. "You know I won't be able to." "Fine," Will says, and covers his smile. "Just let me come first." "I can't." "Then you just let it happen." "I can't." "Will." "Then-" "And I don't know if you noticed, but I'm wetter than ever. Not even once in ten days!" Will reaches down to stroke his hand over his own crotch and makes him groan. "Can you get me off now? It's almost a crime." Will nods. "I'll start easy, and then as the pressure builds, I wanna do it hard." Will grins. "What's the point in going slow if you can't get me off, then? I just want you on top, Will, let me ride you and watch your ass bounce and then your legs will wrap around me and you won't need any words at all." Will brings their cocks together, and squeezes hard. He can't help himself. "So you want it?" "Yeah," Will says. "What would you like me to do, huh? Like if I just tease you a little? Taint my cock and make you scream, make you scream like I did earlier? Like when you were on the edge and you kept begging for more because you wanted it?" Will smacks his hip against his own face. "And I'd pretend like I wasn't busy with your hair so I could ask you if you'd be alright with my dick inside you and let you slide down until you came?" "That is so fucked up." Will feels his breath hitch as he goes balls deep and nearly loses his grip on Will's hips. "You don't even know what you want." Will laughs. "You know I do. You know I do, don't you, Will? All the time I think about how much I want to make you scream. Every day. So if you want it, just let me." Will sits up straight, hooks one hand under Will's chin and hooks the other around his bicep. "In this position, you can tease me. It's going to make it so hard for you to reach my spot, isn't it? You wanna make me throw up, huh? Make me cry?" "Oh no," Will says. "I want you to cum in my pussy and choke me out." Will rolls him over, using his arched body and fast thrusts to drive Will back against the pillows and the mattress. "There we go." He feels Will swallow hard, his cock pressing into his belly and scraping along his entrance. "Don't stop." "We can talk later," Will says, and he's never heard him say that before. "Good night." Will watches Will for a few minutes, until Will opens his eyes. He smiles. "Good night, Will." ~~~ Will wakes up to the smell of the pheromones of Will's love. And the thought that it is Will that's so good to him, so healthy, good for him. His body reacts to those pheromones and Will thinks that is beautiful. He's beautiful, always has been, and he's perfect. His mind thinks, it's the smallest, sweetest thing in the world, and he loves it. He kisses Will, and pulls him in, slips a finger inside him and tastes his taste. "Tomorrow," Will says. He leans down to lick Will's earlobe. "Love you." Will looks up at him, his eyelids heavy and <|endoftext|> "You really haven't talked to anyone about this, have you?" Megumi asked in a soft voice. "What did he even say to you about me having a personality? I'm literally the most level-headed person in the room at times." "I kind of ran into him yesterday at the school and he was making a fuss over how much you got on my case during the test…" Megumi explained. "He seems interested, but that's all his." Yuichi explained. "Well then it's best for me to make him like you, right?" Megumi said. "Yeah, but what's he like? He's your friend and you told me that all the time, though, so I don't think that's going to change much." "Don't worry, Yuichi, I'll tell him someday." "Thanks!" Just as the two boys were about to go home, Tsukki seemed to get a handle on who he could trust. *"After that incident, I can't let him near you guys anymore. Better that you realize that there's a lot of trust between us right now. Just because we're friends doesn't mean that we get along, right? But he and I seem to have so much in common, so if you're ever worried about him liking me or somebody else you know, just know that he loves you, too. It really is true. He wouldn't mind if it happened…and don't worry about being a good boyfriend. I don't know why, but he likes that kind of thing."* He'd simply given the boys a pat on the head, assured them that they were important to him and that he was fine with them being with one another, but obviously the concern on their faces told him something else. Despite his reservations, he felt happy that he had gotten through with his test and gotten the full marks he deserved. Then again, when he tried to tell his friends about what had happened, he found he felt a little awkward, so he figured it wouldn't be a good idea to tell them, either. After doing the paperwork for that summer, he resolved to spend the rest of the year avoiding Tsukki. They didn't need him in their lives any more, he reasoned, and as much as he hated when people coddled him or pulled for him to be better, he would have to put up with it and get through with his own life. It seemed like the right course of action. He remembered the nightmares from earlier that month, and decided to not mention to his friends and past roommates that they had come to pass. He felt okay about that, though, and maybe he could explain that to them. As he got to work on Friday morning, he got to wondering if he should tell anyone at all that he had only just gotten a call from his cousin, even though he hadn't wanted to. The voicemail was the worst part, sounding bored, tense, and….sad. It filled him with a sense of dread that he was starting to feel comfortable in. He had his answer. On Monday afternoon, he called Suzuki-san as a friend. He was tired of waiting and had more important things to do, but he couldn't stop thinking about that voicemail. "…I have some bad news." "What's up, Tsukki?" "I'm really sorry for the trouble this whole thing caused for you, but let's not talk about it again. You've got a whole new sense of perspective now. Remember where you stood when you were getting those text messages and gossiping over the phone earlier? Do you remember the way my brother looked at me? He…he knew I was doing well at school and also understood my situation. I mean, he probably knew what he was getting himself into by actually trying to find me. He was probably jealous, too, which he normally doesn't be. I kind of liked him at first, too, but once I decided to confront him he was on to me the second he saw me at the trial, which just made things worse and-" "Tsukki, what was your real name?" "Oh, god. That would be a fucking pain in the ass to say out loud. Why are you asking me that?" "Because…you know, you don't have to hide your identity anymore, right?" "I…no, no. I can't. I never intended on keeping this secret for long." "Okay…" …but he wanted to. He wanted them to see it for themselves, if only to give him the courage to have an honest conversation about it. … But maybe now was not the time, or the right moment. He said, "Not at all. I love you very much." Suzuki-san's expression immediately became stern and quiet. "Tsukki, did you just deny my feelings for you? I thought you said your feelings for me were obvious before, but I never thought you were hiding anything from me." "I didn't mean to, but it was just the way it sounded," he sighed. "I was reading all those newspaper articles about you recently, and I realized that the way you treated me in school and at the court was the exact same way that I treated you when I first got involved with you." "That's not what I meant, I swear!" "Okay, fine. I was wrong about you. And also, I think I'd prefer if it was somewhere between you and me instead of you saying, 'This isn't going to work, sorry I tried to lie to you and instead of you knowing anything about my feelings, I went back to wanting you for your body only.' You have to admit that it doesn't go over well, Tsukki." "…I don't want to hear it said to my face." "Do you really want me to keep telling you something like that? Or do you honestly need someone to validate your feelings or whatever, and you should just say, 'It's just my selfishness, please keep whatever sex you want to have with me because I need it!' You're more important than that. What is the point of such an attitude? Please stop denying your feelings." Tsukki frowned. "Uh, for what? I don't know why I expect you to be better about this, and more honest about it, because I don't think you are." "You're right, Tsukki," he said with a pout, "I'm not being honest either, and that's infuriating." "…I want to." "…For what? You can't keep pretending that you're not turned on by me. I see it every single day. Even if you don't say anything, I know." "…I don't…" he searched for words, but stopped when he realized that they weren't going to help. "This is so hard to do, is it not?" "…You shouldn't have to-" "Stop. This is the first time in a long time that I'm feeling this much…in a place other than where I'm with my family and friends. I would hate to be pulled into something as uncomfortable as this, and I'd hate myself if I wouldn't do anything but let my feelings show." "Tsukki, I'm just…just making a call. I'm not there to judge you." "I am. I may not know you well enough yet to judge you, but-" "…Sorry, Tsukki. I'm just trying to get this done and over with, and if you won't do the same-" "Will you do the same for me, please?" "I will. I feel terrible that my feelings have forced me into this position, but I'll try to at least try to at least give this some of your kind understanding and make sure it doesn't happen again." "If that's all you ask for, then I'll try to be the best I can. I appreciate the time you took to think of me, and I really do respect your wishes, too, but I can't promise that I'm going to be able to please you in another relationship. I'm still young, and I know how good you are at balancing work and school. It's not easy, even in the wake of the divorce, and your feelings won't ever disappear." "I know, and I'm sorry. I'll try." He winced a little. "Now, that may sound awful, but I'll just tell you one thing, and I think that will probably be enough for you to forgive me." "Maybe so. I guess we'll have to find out at some point." It seemed like he was not out of ideas. "And I suppose you could decide to stop doing that 'feelings' business, then?" "…you're asking me to stop fantasizing about you?" "Am I?" "…with another person? In front of others?" "Not so much, actually. I mean, I would like to, but I'm not saying I can, exactly." "…okay, then. And that's cool." As he looked down at his watch, he heard a muffled and questioning "You need sleep, Tsukki!" from behind him. He craned his head up and stared at who was talking, but nothing came out. He saw Shinji looking at his watch and chuckled. It was a little odd, since he usually checked his watch every five minutes or so, but every time, he seemed more surprised to see that he had been up for quite some time already. If he had just spent the last two hours sleeping, he would've been exhausted. That didn't make him sleep any less. Still, it was a question to ask if he were to be up again that often. Now wasn't the time to think about it, though. He walked back to his room, glad to have gotten some sleep. He washed his hands and dried them on his nightstand, then threw on some clothes. He moved to the living room and set them beside the TV. After letting them sit there, he picked up the remote and began scrolling through his collection of DVDs. "This film is really boring," he commented, chucking out a DVD of some sort. "Can't even imagine what it's about." "Watch any of the ones after Tetsurou." "Mm." He found a movie that was older and a little boring, but watched it anyway. After a few hours, he thought the pace of things might've gone a little too fast, but he didn't mind it so much. "Do you want to watch one while you're still here, too?" "Who knows, it could be really boring, though. It could be really boring from the beginning, and then it could be really boring for most of it." "Couldn't make that assumption. They were supposed to get progressively better later on. Just because it's modern does not mean it's boring." He turned the DVD on, and thought about the line of men that Tsukki had described earlier. He was familiar with their characters, but he did not know which was important. He also wondered if perhaps it would be better to watch something like Love Hina instead. As he assumed, the first half of the film was dry and unfunny, and once the second half hit, he noticed all of the characters' names disappearing from the screen. With a sigh, he turned to the DVD player and began watching again, just to find that there were still no character names anymore. "What a load of crap," he commented, rather unhelpfully. "Or maybe it's all just coincidence." "So, I dunno, which is it?" "That makes two of us." "Isn't it an advantage?" "Don't you know that only works when they're cute?" "They're not cute." "Tsukki, I've never been more embarrassed watching any of these movies." "Suit yourself." He went on and on about how much he hated these movies and how much he hated the characters. Finally, he decided to sit there until his anger burned out and he realized he actually enjoyed them. He stopped for a moment and let the DVD grow stale in his eyes. It was a little strange, but he knew this happened. Just because they were not the straight "love stories" like he had expected did not necessarily mean they would have been better. Of course, he didn't watch the episodes since the first half was either boring, or excessively long and tedious. The second half? Yeah, he got bored quickly. It was irritating how easily some of these problems could be solved by ripping the movie out and throwing it at him, but it <|endoftext|> "I don't... And I..." Shou's face showed his apprehension. "When I've gone down this route, not once has it worked for me." "That's because it doesn't work for you." Mamoru admitted. "Everyone thinks that someone will love them when they die. But nobody has ever figured out what happens to people who fall in love with people when their lives come to an end." "It wasn't with anyone before he died," Kyoutani explained calmly. "What happened to him?" "He lost everything and ended up here." Mamoru shrugged. "Like everyone else, he sought out Tsukki. He did what he always wanted, which was to forget about the others that he loved so desperately and focus on one person--that one, small... butterfly-like human... thing inside of him. Oh, by the way, he took me from there because he saw a similar fate waiting for us both. It wasn't very long after that that he had gotten drunk in a karaoke bar. At the time, we didn't even know that he liked you." Kyoutani narrowed his eyes at him. "Don't I tell you stories about Shou taking girls? Aren't you allowed to talk about that, too?" Mamoru bit his lip before chuckling. "Let's see how much my lies hold any truth." Their first time together came over Skype on Valentine's Day in 2011, and while the details were eventually revealed, it was revealed under three different schemes. They had never been particularly intimate or playful during those chats, but each meeting after was fueled with warmth and affection before anything spectacular happened. Even then, he'd thought she liked other boys too. At one point, when they were online together for over two years, he wrote her a letter saying just that. When he did actually start talking to her every day, it meant more than he could have ever imagined. So far in her life, Haru did mention taking things slowly when she met her boyfriends, but not without their respective experiences wondering if he hadn't settled down until her completion. Her attempts at comfort typically fell flat. If not outright admitting her own hurt, she would be evasive with him on matters she deemed personal or emotionally unrelated. And whenever she got someone back together to have some fun, she warned them: one-sided relationships were for losers. That being said, neither of them made it easy, so the parts that they shared could be uncomfortable, mostly because they existed in a world where hers and Haru's romantic interactions were no longer a romance but a long-term friendship rather than something someone had paid enough attention to them to provide examples. For instance, she now texted him, because she assumed, with the image and body language, that she felt unsafe with herself out in public, and needed an outlet where she didn't worry about the lack of the dignity she used with the others to preoccupy themselves with. Her own introversion put that most likely from just a chaste stroke and saw his head snap up, his pale blue eyes watering slightly as they looked out at the street below. Looking back up from his phone, he was able to see her expression writ clear across her profile page with something akin to amusement. There was also this flush in the front of her cheeks that usually accompanied her mood changes. This indicated something, and Mamoru instantly suspected that she liked him, and so did she, but still couldn't explain the intensity. But nothing caused a greater hurt to Haru and Matsuo's relationship than seeing Shou anon in a way that she knew could endanger someone close to them like that. Regardless of their games or the situations behind them, Haru had long come to accept the reality that it wouldn't always be her ailing and betrayed if people around her became weak, perhaps even aided by demons to entrap her. She had no remorse for telling Shou, the honorable ojou-sama, and she never blamed him. However, she would be damned if her feelings towards him didn't affect the other girl, which was to say it definitely affected both. "We're getting free passes for the week," she told him to make sure that he knew it was supposed to help. "Take off work on Wednesday. It won't change anything but your status." Mamoru nodded at her. He would take that. The fact that Shou trusted him as much as she did was a nice quality to her idol that she dearly cherished. "This is a good deal, though." On TV, she has been wearing the faded black shirt twice the size of her body type as she dashes between battling battles, resulting in bruises ranging up her arms, jutting out near her chin and almost all the way to her elbows. It serves its purpose for two days only: it was one of her favourites, used mostly for volleyball practice. That thought alone was enough to cause comfort when watched on television. She also wore it during dinner today, albeit underneath a silk blazer; it was one of her pride and joys when she was past her prime. A girl like her... god, this word, yearned for the reminder that she, along with Shou and occasionally any other friend of hers from somewhere precious was simply a single to be cherished over meaningless things that could result in being asked to go home and die. From clothes to food, nothing held such a beauty for her, especially when the corner of her mouth quirked upward in irony. Momi could feel his chest puffing up with silent laughter for the first time. The whole time he didn't even realize it. And that's exactly why she required that rule to protect Shou from such possessive advice from the spirits when he decided to propose tonight. The bells rang for them both, and they hung up along with both graduation announcements. Despite the going away party being less than discreet, Shou gave Momi a gentle glare at the beginning of their celebrations. Before even looking at her date, he spoke disdainfully, "A month ago my beloved seemed pretty obsessed with you until my end goal was stupidly hectic schedules." *Oh my fucking god.* She hadn't seen the smug smirk and small grin like a thousand times since the moments leading to her bright red dress was slipping down her throat. She turned a shade darker than usual. His lips were curling into a teasing smile that easily included the salacious part. Her mind reached over, hoping desperately that her wasted flirting skills from months ago caught on some women and possibly attached her skills, while his struggled to get through her favourite topic. As is: the whole thing made her wave to one of the chefs who gave a warm greeting, neither half seriously regarding her as if she wasn't directly enjoying the feast she brought. From inside her pocket, she pulled out her money, plucking a crisp euro from her wallet; one she should've repaid herself for using once after graduating. She remembered not feeling disgusted even two seconds later by what little food was on the plate. Looking up at his eyes full of mischief, his teeth pulling at his lower lip so he could slip them together, the waiter approached with a barely faked yelp before hitting the glass to ask her for two a la carte and suddenly froze, breathing heavy. *Cockgirl*, she thought grimly. *Better thing, I suppose.* And, that may have been the most ridiculous thought of the evening. They had never really got to the point of dating because all of the ventures were targeted to demonstrate their deeper impact. Like all gods, her crush was… well. An informal compliment by asking a waiter did not mean she needed to outright ask him for a romantic attempt to seal the deal. Sure, they hardly ever kissed each other outright, nor was there even an attempt at mens'/women's romantic goings-on as paraded from the masses to reporters. Shou's peck was more spontaneous and short lived, otherwise she'd have never said what was most intimate and carefree things for them. Oh, the butterflies in her stomach slowly spun down... then froze again when he sat next to her with unwavering gaze trained upon the girl who they gazed at last due to The Promise, at least in those few fleeting moments when she couldn't bring herself to continue eating or drinking like being possessed, since everything flashed back to the question she still stared at then? For the second time, she had never asked him that question of how he felt about Shou. So instead of directly asking - * * "This cooking means a lot to me," he murmured simply, looking down at the bouquet of chrysanthemums resting on her table, one sitting in front of her as casually as if she had done it centuries ago. "Especially food on the table," his voice was oddly sobering on occasion. She'd always assumed it was just a side effect of attending to his side so much. Considering how he treated her when they had not worn anything during their togetherness – which was rarely – it would seem like the flower signified something far deeper than harmony. Maybe just to her. It held no colour, yet it perfectly complemented his other flattery, though mostly directed at Shou. Though even that sported no gravitas anymore, exactly as she had hoped. "I'll appreciate this decoration." *It doesn't really say that much that I *died*. Because, let's face it, that's basically the theme of our relationship. There will probably be a compliment of how wonderful it is, but maybe even weaker will make the most surefire way of opening up everything else, eventually, despite their beginnings.. Whether something means *something* within you doesn't really matter, does it? *That's just something one has to call someone as opposed to asking them to agree for the light or else it's enough to toss around for the initial honeymoon, right?* **That whole section in the premise took the cake for sourness. We found out that we've become roommates now!** *Well at least I'm glad I can help that guy. Who needs more burden than me to pick someone up when they fall sick in a situation that shouldn't need them in the first place? At least then I won't mess up their time slot while they're hanging by me.* *That might actually give them comfort. This way, they won't feel pressured just because a relationship has begun. Maybe, could manage the friendship first first, then the companionship again, after that even something sexy might come along in handy.* He didn't want to drop the chrysanthemums, but another one threw the stare towards her cheek in disgust when they simultaneously started laughing, loudly. Partly because the product smeared against the lightly coloured floral breeze that offered heat and a temporary fill of humor to relieve his silly, poetic sentiments, mostly because she wouldn't want him to forget she was there. He knew she saw everything that came to his doorstep regardless. Even the food on the table; usually, dishes were discarded if not wanted at his actual location. They didn't talk about whether we were actually kissing or not but she knew, anyway. The flushed cheeks were ugly and easily concealed in the brown natural sunlight of early morning, of course, but they were clearly red-faced and uncomfortable even in view of the camera people or hangers-on they were surrounded with. And, to put her picture alongside of those other pictures like a nickname and not a surname, a new concept caught Shou's eye without meaning to. She wiped her lips blushingly with the pen knife still strapped to her ear for evidence and her teasing words too, truly think to deliberately question *Did we kiss? *although in reality she quite fancied it. It had happened already at some point, really. But apparently not one particular instance. It made sense though. That said, this opened the tent. She'd gotten to that place where nothing much left room for deceptions, especially about them being lovers; women were bound to believe whatever men still believed, from one kind of outdated sources to claim moments from a time when it had not even occurred to the common people to think of women on the same level as men (except for those in the public places). They both silently expected reporters to pick at such bait; thus they would see without any doubt about how much they complimented Shou's cooking. Of course he would hate the attention. Besides, he knew they wouldn't like how he responded. Being a purely pragmatic person, his idea was to present with a mostly lukewarm smile and, sadly enough, surrender point when approached by press members. Although it might not impress them, truthfully at least she would take less proof to make me laugh or to change the image around. Or risk making me fail more than once. But we've talked about this, haven't we? Surely this time, *who should tell my stories before anyone else? * *Please, someone stop me.* *I *did that last one time before I told a number of those anons who asked me earlier to just leave me alone. I know it was because I wanted their opinions and not to raise any numbers to find a fine mark on my shoes, but they kept a string of good times for their signatures afterwards, obviously thinking me satisfied enough as a and possibly forgetting. *Damn*, wasn't she also a clumsy lad? No, they had approached more daringly *after* *being out of the house or *within it.* Hmph, always a shame *to tear the crowns off of cow-like country squires like him..'I see why i put my horn through it when I throw a one-hundredkcal bucket at your front door…* (I showed her who I was before going ahead with talking about ourselves.) *If I acted this well back then why couldn't I act it better now? They probably just hadn't seen me since the time I built up their expectations by eating my underachieving liver in front of everyone.* Sure, her pretty mug had disappeared when she first entered the shop; 'I don't know what to buy. Every time you go to buy clothes, I set everything in place, if possible a bit so that you are disappointed. After all, I am wearing a white, lace dress, not unlike your night gown.' 'Yeah..*Fufu.*So please choose wisely*. I already look this worn. Who do you imagine the Kresnik nag with since school? Oh..and don't pretend you're not using your nifty breasts for bargaining value. Your feet and ankles could match an angel-woman as makeup for sure.* And despite 'that' kind of expression in the kitchen one last time, '*What? do you regret anything?* You look like you've been chopped in half..' so she stroked herself thoroughly for a photograph, ready to take all the photos out right away. He would say she lacked dramatic features and might not survive this job just because she doesn't work the southern part of the bar! More of a country lady, perhaps..or what does a bread at the pastry counter even resemble? Yeah, he's right, *there are no others – including bachelors..eats them alive in short fun chunks. All that could fool a sharp shopper would be the thought I used to reproach what i would call 'fashionably weird female team sports.' Girls are on the same level... as the guys.' On top of the mental image making her purse her cheeks when he speaks his truths about those customs, it surprised him that 'he complains 'so loudly that maybe people around are talking about it?.* So in his frustration he points out another acquaintance near: '.....yes..hurry..' and absentmindedly starts to squat down in a thin line before filling the food orders with a similar amount. Its not even enough to survive, it is a pity. Truthfully I, too, would be thrilled with the compliment to my cooking, eh? And wouldn't serve him all this delicious kushier unless I made a table, though he likes a quickies (he orders the cucumbers instead), not waitresses of the food thing, despite their advice .but sometimes one must depend on opportunity given to achieve somethings, after all. *But surely even such shabby whoopee cushions aren't worn almost as often as rubber trunks...* Hey, isn't that *an orange! *every single person immediately smiled while sending him a single picture over his job in the food stall – the little ones would get familiar with him from the very beginning, and that way they must know whether to trust his word or not when he himself blushes after the compliments by accident.*Well.. right…*You see, at an young age, when living near cows, you will grow and will hold hidden herrings against its bristles to protect your big toe. ... So i guess, mr. Trixie suffers from deformation of joints and heels-injuries…" Tsukishima watched him humming his usual song as he walked, leading it like it was some sort of anthem for the whole restaurant. As her eyes scanned the room, she could see him as funny and cheerful in a posh way-which only looked polished to perfection if everyone looked that way (she took another photo) and which also reminded her why she liked the way he did his cheerfulness so much... how cute his bright eyes gazed over a mini-bar! *...Is he jealous?* Those tiny round pupils darted her sultry grin and simply smiled, never knowing his far subtler attempt to convince her about how little he really enjoyed getting scolded on his looks. *That brat. Good boy.. His simple remarks only led to *boys being spoiled for accessories during summer! Does he give free hugs to housemaids?* Takashi neither did more nor less hugs, and so he thought it ridiculous and a sick dream when the girl undermentioned it between whiskers! Having endured the hell of what she received lately, Tsukishima retook the store's duty with respect on keeping a clean atmosphere. But overcoming *that is some advance study…*(Revenge!) She sighed deeply and smiled, glad the tail end of summer brought an unknown brand of happiness. The omegas always tried their best to scare them for what was to come in fall without saying anything as everyone tried their best to not notice that what seems like happiness nowadays were rapidly giving birth to the terrifying new reality full of worries and fears and pain… But it didn't surprise Tsukishima that his clients would shed tears to admit to all those doubts as he also saw the importance to be true to oneself and knowing whether there were any advantages the personal reasons behind a move, especially when the transition happened between ages – so *maybe *when Tsukki turned fifteen, when he came of age, he believed himself to have the equivalent of an enviable body no matter what young girls perceived him as. Not counting his stronger limbs, which occupied everyone's attention, was that was the only reason… but he failed seeing through others...** **She admired the movements of how rapidly muscle makes soft, ugly whining sounds – why did he have to force himself to breathe while calling *"Gyoji Taro! Such customer, huh?"* in his trademark happy tone... At any other time, they might feel loathing while in front of other customers, laughing alone at him since "those boys around here are also becoming troublesome," she, a commoner, so knew, which drove everyone mad to spend less time taking care to plan around the Gyaos back then. That was why their customers "witnessed," getting desperate to watch how the quiet little boy attentively arranged notes of calligraphic symbols with sheer willpower from plain refrigerator. Even when work became heavy, when hanging color-changers and paper jewelry boxes behind his interminable belt made him unable to <|endoftext|> End. I suppose you'll be in my bed now for a while, just... You know what? Too bad we don't really do this in person." She smiled softly and managed to swallow back some of the temptation. He was right, with the people they knew were completely far away from them that much intimacy still sent shivers up her spine and * he had to work for that*... "You wouldn't dream of telling someone about me, would you?" She shook her head, forced herself to smile slowly. "God, no! I never want anyone else's secret out there so close to me in real life," she teased. His sudden scowl scared her. "He only told me because I was his little girl. Just your own sweet girl, to get him off and then break him in. Geez." Her hips swayed against his and she rested her hands on his shoulder blades for a moment before pulling away. Had he really slept around * three times without another man kissing him, or taken something, or been involved in such an incident where she'd laughed at him, or almost cried after it * three times*, even if she didn't think so at the time. Maybe they both felt incredibly lucky to have him. "Besides, I've known you longer than any other man, Charlotte. This night will be too fresh and raw for me not to want to taste you tonight at least once. Could I possibly beg and spoil you like that before the inevitable party?" She swallowed hard and eyed him. How dare he expect her to make a move based on her dreams and fantasies at all?! There wasn't another woman at his side in this place, like there used to be. He definitely meant well by those statements, but at this point, after everything he'd done for her, that kiss wasn't supposed to end between them. If anything, she * hoped* it ended this way. The only thing missing was knowing how close their relationship went, so long ago. Still, despite her impending protest (which would have likely done nothing but her further embarrassment), she folded over in her spot on the bed and enjoyed watching him move. Two. He found himself twice as sensitive when being with a person in love. Good. Three. Unless that five meant he wanted more than a mark on his skin, then good manners would tell him he should start reading the label again. Yeah, one. Yes. No. Somewhere along the line his other hand reached down, spreading on the towel next to her legs. Laying back on her side, her other fingers trailed up to wrap around the side of his, and she could feel him smiling down at her against the cushion of her bed as he continued to whisper into her ear, purposefully grinding into her in response to her mumbled consent. It hurt to realize that her longing to touch him was immediately obliterated by his self-satisfied smirk, but oh, how she loved how he made sure to grab every inch of her body to rub himself into the taste buds of warmth and friction. Even better was the fact that his hands might go away, which for some reason it seemed was already happening. If she continued with this picture of dinner, maybe he'd wear her out with * one * bad batch of pancakes.* * And she didn't know, she * did * get off enough on the prospect of eventually being pulled under his hold.* As a last choice she leaned back on her elbows and reached around to cover his erection with her palm. Immediately she heard the growl leave him in return to the usual skittering trail of longing complaints from the small space between them and wondered, again, why the heck he'd ever thought it worth giving up his own girlfriend for one of these onsies at every second or third attempt. She was different, and him, and he had a wife and two kids to think about now that her night was probably going to die. "Like what you see?" That was all it took, she realized, for his leather jacket to squeeze between his thighs instead of flattening over his chest, making room for her hand, and it felt good. God, he'd never understood women, why they loved their pleasure so much. Sure, she tried to hide some things, but not really often. And, after all, she was only ever taking it slow and proper, maybe not making her customers happy like * one * of them did, but that was okay. It didn't count. Tender loving care was so rare and special. Especially if she planned on gaining his seed in the second or third round or while * she * was in front of them at all possible intervals from that second up until the children were old enough for school. Certainly didn't mean that it should be rushed and covered in dry manure spit. No, no, a gentleman always waited a day after every, heck, a week before he wanted to take his time fucking her. Stripping herself from his frame as soon as possible, she walked around him until she was in position for penetration and left herself open for him with one final exhale. "Uh, no," she said, feeling a bit embarrassed despite the soreness that brought her into the present tense. "I suppose we've already gotten a round at this point." With her right arm still off and her other hand working her pump-job carefully, she gave it a weak squirm when he demanded the squirming back immediately after something made his boner twitch, drawing her attention down his body. "C'mon." By the tenth hit on her wrist, a faint tickling was her signal that she had worked up enough stamina for a repeat performance, and she remembered just how good it felt being fucked so deeply after so many times. She grabbed him as easily as the leather of his hoodie fit over his calves, she pressed herself firmly onto him like he was an equally big boy toy, reaching to wrap around him in quick single strokes, sighing at how well shaped the head of his cock fit her while how firm the rest of him seemed, and he moaned as she knotted into him easily and snaked one hand up under her mouth to keep from choking her before sliding two fingers up to caress her perky flesh ones just where they kept the liquid coming in droves, drowning her in its sweetness and lingering sweet contact. It led to a whimper, her hot breath rasping the thin coat of dried semen into his heat and winding its way deeper as she managed to tempt him into opening up and trying something new. "Gods, Johnny. But I did like this particular trick before. I thought the real way to do this is to use your face to make myself feel good? * High? * Sure, sounds good to me." Asking questions wasn't just for wet dreams, but something for the job descriptions and their own benefit too, and she was * curious. * As the tip of one finger slid in shallowly for the first time, she sang softly to him as if to settle them in, humming her assumption of what he wanted in return because he knew her voice, heard it high and sweet enough to fill a place like that where songs were supposed to resonate. He hummed her earhole harshly again when she begged him to thrust deep, no surprises there as she took him deep. His hand decided to join her head, slapping into it almost visibly and drilling her apart with a palm-to-face assault that didn't exactly make her mind off just who to continue drilling. She stopped playing around and just focused on getting used to the idea. The hook of his elbow found an upward arc to press into her cunt, threateningly, suggesting that if she couldn't pay him now, she would pay him later. "Again," she breathed, this time watching him through her lashes when he did nothing more than just lay his fingers at the entrance of her slit to give her steady effort to open, and she shrugged, pleased when he groaned against her entrance and forced himself to take her again. * Do it again . You're making me less confident, * she thought grudgingly, crawling up further down the curve of his body as one deep pull began to start bringing her closer to passing out. She was still holding and coiling him back against her little pink hole when it started to feel like it might happen, when it became too much too fast, so close to reality instead of so far back into near eternity, and the wall shifted and pushed aside underneath her heat, warning her of impending rush of need, and, finally, nearly bucked with the feeling of being flooded and shot back in every sense of the word, scrambling to draw him inside again and repeatedly asking when he was getting too needy, afraid that soon he might go crazy thinking she loved him. As if on cue, this was brought directly to a new plateau, a tilt that sent her ass scissoring outward so her ankles touched even farther back, stretching fully as she made a rollicking noise that was somehow even higher and hotter than before. His knee pulled her into it too, arching in time with the stretch as she moved and clenched her sharp insides against his as she wondered why he still had so much against her heat and not teased the hell out of her...oh, wait...he was teasing her. 'Fuck, baby. Oh, Johnny. * Fuck.' * His lips curved into a wry grin as she could hear him resisting her thrusts, his careful straddling keeping her stretched wide on his body until he was mounting and grinding into her, driving it more relentlessly towards the jackpot just beyond her groin. "Just like that, darling." And there it was: not too far to come undone just yet, not yet getting off to using her, to doing this to someone else, but damned if he wasn't going to break that woman of any previously held inhibitions to put another baby in the seat. * Who else, * she asked just then, biting her lip as his hips suddenly slowed and he backed up just so a knuckle grazed her bare ass, giving her so much heat it must have hurt for a moment as he pulled back just long enough to say, "I am breaking him." Her eyes took a split second of consideration and he could see how flustered and uncertain she looked. How much desperation he showed without even trying in his most commanding tone. 'Damn!' She hated how weak and sexy he seemed to be, just cashing in on the stage set just so she could add something else to the equation, looking badder than usual in response to this and just seeming so goddamn * male.* Well, at least the desire for her to finish who Johnny had given her used to kick in, something akin to the itch of a spider's fangs or the shark without gills inside it, itching to get closer and set him right. She allowed herself to part slightly and allow a certain emptiness to slide over her body as he continued, stopping after one heavy pull and only moving at a leisurely pace for the next nine minutes. His cock held a heavy attention, two balls continuing their work almost constantly, fucking her * right * once before starting it up with a sharper burn than last time and she sighed with disappointment rather than annoyance as the precum rolled over her hipbones once more, noticing that all attempts to move on to her knees went straight to shit. Well, shit was out of the frying pan and about to never, ever return. It was to stop there it turned and slowed, twisting away from what it could do but not taking itself completely out. "No, damn, forget it! Yeah, just close your eyes, okay? Come on. Just-- !" She grabbed her thighs and digging hard for the only feel that kept herself from crashing through the ground into nothingness--heaven with his kicks slowing and easing and pushing against the bones and the muscles she hadn't known before but was now finding quite curiously satisfying, arms wrapped tight across her backbone and coming up to help make a vicious, hollowing stand for his strength all the same, and as she raised up onto all fours now that he moved inside her, he reached forward, kissing her helplessly on the mouth and letting her get up to meet his advance; their kisses were sloppy but forceful and unbelievably slutty until each side had gotten what they wanted, ending when both of them spilled over onto the mattress so he now turned them around so that she could bear his weight for another round of fucking to break open everything still sticking and throbbing inside him. Not like anyone could tell if she stayed like this, legs splayed open far and thick across the bed, meaning she wasn't completely useless, which left her whole structure to simply make things easier as she climbed back up on top of him so it would no longer be sore enough to take a hit. He found a pace quick enough that as she made quick work of his chest and rocked back down against his strokes the next few moments felt excruciatingly tender, laying her down just high enough to hold him close and got him right to huffing where she settled neatly between his legs with a small smacking sound that made every strain come over her frame just a little harder. He bent down just far enough to give her one hole and held his guide completely still enough that it ended up in it perfectly, making his pelvis lift slightly to form the angle needed. There was the sound of his stroke rolling into and through her again, each one strong enough to nearly send her tumbling out of her skin for a moment at a time as her orgasm faded from sheerly stupid whimpers into pained snarls and keening screams. It was of her sitting up quickly and wrapping her legs around him, cradling him to her chest for a moment because his hands came up to wrap around hers, holding her close to his body with little effort other than dropping lightly to press to his right breast through her tight shirt and then just pressed again to the sweet spot she remembered burning herself with on the way to burn himself just beneath it, feeling a minor bloodlust riding her sex at its subtle heat right to the edge and waiting for confirmation of his endurance. If it made any difference then, the split second it took for her insides to shudder and wriggle back to full fit drew appreciative gasps around the room that Johnny didn't share in, struggling to sit upright to help achieve as full of swaggering impact as possible her orgasm, breasts bouncing up and down in matching goofy tit twirls, pressing him up hard and rivalling his own when all he really wanted to do was fill her up in what feels like an uncomfortably erotic little way. * Oh my god...fuck yes...shit shit, fuck, I'm gonna cum, *she thought like an asshole, hips pumping wildly against his direction but as his gush began to subside she slid down her own length, reminding herself that she wasn't going to go through with that thing unless it actually worked. The entire point of being fucked was not for it to lead to this kind of journey so she hoped. Fuck it. As she leaned back, his tip sliding softly over the underside of her and sending waves of hot juice running over her folds, she let out a single deliberate exhale of air as she was taken over, juices splattering against his dick and running all over herself and Johnny alike. He made no noise beyond a hardened grunt when he opened his eyes and said something just outside her line of vision and waved to this few people gathered around the corner watching. "Been saving some for me," she commented vaguely, turning to see the suit hanger and nod her understanding in reply. It was impossible for anything to come in their way again; certainly not tonight as her time was up and the deed done; right then, the most important phase had been come to completion by losing herself like that, slipping out from under him into a foyer made for escaping in a fit that no amount of fighting or doing whatever else with her mind could hope to contain. He groaned low in his throat in satisfaction, first picking himself off and stretching out, panting with just the hint of what might come and only fucking amazing sight, motionless and leaning right against the wall between offices, trembling and gaping open, spreading her cheeks and pouring slow, heavy circles into the center of those bottom set eyes while his breath caught short. When he stepped up he rested the head of his cock where she waited with one hand on the jaw of the office chair. Which when someone did it wrong was so *definitely *wrong that he could just *beat *them*. So he'd turn to her once more, slightly off-centered without resistance, dark blue gazing these bulging sockets into absolute seriousness, hell bent on getting a word out to someone that might matter but considering that everyone in the entire building was somehow in on the plan, damned if she cared anymore. He shoved the head of his cock into her receptive heat, letting her tense a bit but immediately reach down and heave him forward to give herself up fully to him, up to him and taking him all the way to the head as she sank to her knees and finally swallowed in every fucking inch. She moaned slightly, breathing hot and fast for just the barest sign that he wasn't about to stop she already found herself there till it felt too much and wouldn't let go. Then he pushed in a bit further until she did an unintentional but perfect shimmy in between them at last. Then had a big ass smile spread over his face as she pulled her knees up to deepen the penetration, followed by his doing the same moving in a rougher, even bruising pattern to drive her closer, then sinking deeply past where he fit before just teasing and wrapping itself around him until there were fingers between his and his cock and yet never stopping and never ending. Then she stopped moving altogether while he pressed his lips flush to her hairline again, cock pushing inside her nearly halfway in right where her pubic bone thighed and gave herself like a big hammerhead at some damn near agonizing spot on either side of that he part the pressure on just right to throw it open then off her again and where the very earth came together like a car wash on an endless feed of uncomfortably damp gravel out of the back of her skull brought forth a short bark of a laugh and maybe crossed out all of hell on her side so she could start feeling like a little piece of her was missing like a chewed nail here and a lightning bolt there. Then when her head went down to meet him still pushed into her giving her nothing but the demands for all of those in the assembled. They finally reached home plate at the edge of his neck, each successive thrust bringing her chasm spouting through the short gap to start making sure there wasn't any nastiness left but there'd be plenty there down below making a little filth to rub on the rock of fuckers in his bed there. Then kept going, saying almost in unison how hard they'd both need to get through not just where she was forced to move with her ass too but between that and him well that just fed it on and it seemed that whatever was big enough to stop them both lay across that line, though not seeing now...he ran them balls deep inside her and brought up more leverage with a hand on the back of her head and with every shove left Johnny stewed and angry and totally awesome in an exclusive zone of a certain black cat with no windows when no word or gesture could distract her from a shit load of nimble control that landed her even better marks around him over time and made all he was want was more, hold a hungry lead lock at chest level, go balls deep deep in one place and drop back without any effort to take her top half lower just sharpens the edge of his appetites and makes them feel like a fucking weight down there. Even wanting for her to talk or look at anybody really except him and his eyes rolling wide like he was fucking fucking stopped in shock again and again like the way he grinned when they both jerked her off, if not practically dropped when he came back down here. Because it wasn't the same fucking place and was one way from fornication and not the second, if at least his field instinct would've said that down on her nerves and coming onto was probably a pretty pretty positive thing to make her quite hot shit and to think would stop him this night but if even at some point she saw that fucking baby running off under him with blood yellow walls roaring, slightly grunted and betrayed her she'd barely make it out from damn even leaving a sideways glance like that. Oh shit oh <|endoftext|> Tell me you've got to get something out of me sometime," Steve murmured, still paying close attention. "Is that too forward?" "If I can believe a word he says," Tony said through gritted teeth, but there was no venom in it. "Oh, go on then." He grinned, leaning back against the wall and stretching. "Not bad, eh? You better come see about getting off on a little girl. It's not easy being a super soldier all by yourself. Everyone would kill for your skills, this army or no army." Tony kicked his foot against the wall. "He doesn't know any better." "Doesn't he?" It had been years since anyone had hurt him, and his skin had been getting colder by the day. "I don't think so," Steve sighed. "But if you're going to ask him any more of that kind of nonsense, maybe you should also take up with someone else. We have enough men like you here who could cut our pay a lot of times over, if needed." "And I don't want to cut my pay." Tony shook his head, making him sneer at him. "Besides, seeing as you kept telling me how much you liked me, you'd probably enjoy having a companion at least a little." Steve stopped his stretching and studied him. "That's sweet," he whispered. The other man laughed. "You really make that bet a few more times. Tell ya what though, if we both win, I'll give up and make sure you get him so you're just another order for awhile. Let's make it count." Steve nodded and thought about his 'extra eye of cuteness', thinking of all of the times it made him flustered, but never any real interest until now. "So, let's find out who wants to be a salman slave once more, and who won't have an answer," he said wryly. "That doesn't mean my comment is irrelevant. Of course, that would mean he might let the bastard jack off." Even without prompting, Tony rolled his eyes before twisting his lips into a half-smile. "I'll tell you that. And how shall we do that?" "In forty minutes?" Steve guessed but gave him a knowing look. "We can always try again later on, I suppose," he replied dryly. The offer didn't seem as tempting as before. Tony stiffened and tilted his chin towards the ceiling as though trying to stay calm, but Steve knew he was just mentally spinning his own wheels. There were already several leads swirling around, some startlingly obvious, others not quite so, but that left them with one more to sweep up. After all, they already had him thinking about new jobs and all sorts of side trips while he sipped at a tea bag. And the... *obvious* part to lure him in was where the siren calls were going to get thick— *he would be well compensated for his services, and make tons of money.* What could be far worse than their version of slavery, after all? "Excellent work, young master of mine," Steve smirked. "You finish in record time." "Let's move on up, shall we?" The other man smiled widely and poured himself another cup of tea. "Nothing really goes up for me these days unless it's one of those fun little assignments, eh? Like once I was brought in by General Viper to keep an eye on your front." His tone was light, almost teasing. "That's kind of amusing if I do say so myself." "This operation isn't going very well so far." There was a hard edge to his voice and the roughness to his hand as he tore off his glove to stare at the other boy. "That's quite evident, isn't it?" "It's not an easy job. But sometimes, it just goes wrong, you know." Noticing the silent resistance, he shrugged with an easy shrug before giving his master his report. "There are hostages who haven't even thought about asking for help yet." Tony snorted at him and took another drink from his teacup before resuming the spiel. "No surprise there. They can only expect things to go so well or so poorly for them." Once again, the stoic man leaned back and tried to guess what the other wanted. "Well, there's always a section right back of us that will fall for that every time, not entirely unreasonable." The rebellion had taken a toll on Steve's morale, and it wasn't that he minded trying as long as it went against Iron Man's wishes. "Then there is the infiltrator manor, and I'd rather be seen doing something productive than sitting idly by," he pointed out. "Sheck, if we steal something from her by force, I'm going to deliver it to her hands personally, thanks, and with a gun to my head!" As Tony pored over the subject, as if calculating the benefits of each possible option, even looking for weak points, Steve started to worry. In a way, it sounded much worse when he said she ought to talk to Cobra or the likes, than when it came to his concern. He swallowed his thoughts until something turned sour. "As well. Peggy Carter has been getting a bit old for such a kid's worth, and Peggy is down for all kinds of things. Honest work ain't going to soften her up fast enough." "Whatever you say." Tony grimaced. "She's not interested in ta need to be insulted, or see you murdered, so don't say she didn't warn ya." "At this point in her career, I don't think she gives two shits who we send," Steve said as he added, "to let me have a go at their "brain trust". In fact, I should hope so." Unaccustomed to such sarcasm, Tony couldn't stop smiling. "See, I agree with you 100 percent," he declared and sauntered to the mess room. "Yeah, that we need to use Peggy as bait, but…" As he stepped into the open doorway, Steve was met with a brazen grin that could make folks want to swear off intimacy for at least another week or two. It looked like someone had decided to join the fight too. "Do it, Sergeant!" He shifted uncomfortably behind a stool and set himself to watching Tony closely. Neither of them, clearly knew exactly what to expect from the other, whether they would make light of the situation or remain sternly impartial. It was a bizarre scene, sitting in the same room for hours having them both seem deadpan, waiting for the bombs to drop. "Go on then," Tony said as he shook his head no and crossed his arms. "One woman won't work for you, sergeant." Dancing along, Steve lightly poked at his umbrella arm that seemed to be trailing behind the boys as he took two calming steps back to his human form. "Fine. But she'll only work if it involves us putting her past habit to good use." "I've gone that far," the leatherneck snarled out as he narrowed his eyes and tipped his hat in an attempt to appear intimidating. "What was your assignment this time? You've been at it a while. Not like her," he joked and meant it. When Steve didn't like how the comment sounded, he just shrugged without changing his expression. It was something about how adults did sometimes lose their flair if they were under so much stress. "For my money, Mister Stark just wanted some allowances from 'em while 'round here. Just like it seems I'm supposed to pay her when a mistake gets made." Steve chewed his lip and reached across to give his companion a firm nod, which was soon accompanied with a sharp peon's nod towards him. "Try harder, this time," he warned after a pause. "Or just quit this shit altogether if we're stuck doing it again and again and again. And have a damn clue on when you're doing it wrong when you get hurt." To which Tony simply grunted mockingly, shifting uneasily on his feet and letting out a breathless laugh before hitting the bell for breaks. As he straightened himself, Steve saw no hint of enjoyment in his friend's eyes. Instead, though, the man burst out, "But no harm done." "With their hands down for the Captain, not a shot fired," he reminded him and clicked his tongue slightly. "We could have done that last year." Looking directly at his former playboy mentor, he hesitated, wondering if he ought to tell the Hydra coven that Jack hadn't truly gone through with her plan, although maybe it wouldn't really matter because he was fine, or at least better off. "Fuck it," he said abruptly. "So it's settled." And, before they could get any further, the whistle blew and the power armor was brought down to soldier level, confirming their information for them. Fortunately, it was night-time, and John made quick work of gathering them before he set about going ballistic and taking them back into the house of horrors in hopes of trying again. Even after a full day in the interrogation room, he still couldn't go there unless he made sure his men were secured in some manner and preferably given adequate protective gear before entering. Over the years he'd actually abandoned his disguise very once or twice when they needed his direct participation, and… it's no wonder that he'd done so now. Steve was about to give him an earful about that whenever he showed up at SHIELD's fortress headquarters, especially if it involved killing him. In lieu of some promised measure of security, they all agreed to stay under the circumstance that Tony would follow close at hand for the duration. Again. A bushy eyebrow raised at the old rifle butt. Shrugging smugly, the R&D director grinned and popped a black patch on one sleeve, like any real do-gooder would during times of need. "Well, an ass whoopin', you are," he began in a calm tone of voice and of even-handedly in much gentler language than usual. "Now, listen carefully, y'all. As they say around here: a round starts early in a life where our good captain is concerned." "Yes, sir," his soldiers nodded at the broken iron pipe with a smirk. They turned sideways to brace themselves against it to keep the rest of them out of the line of fire and steeled themselves accordingly. "This sorta reminds me of a certain Mister Bergman," the older man began with a lengthy academic study. His voice carried to Steve that, instead of formal authority, this was more of a threat to anyone with real teeth out. "A little way back, long ago, when I, uh, the old Greg, as the boss we had, um, worked together; well… I got that other fuddy-duddy boy enough trouble myself you might say…" Pointedly eyeing the way the troops instantly dropped away, as well as the way the old Major spoke to each and every one of them by his every word, especially against Bergman, they shook their heads to keep their position despite the abrupt change of fortune. In other words, if they weren't going to buy any part in going down – even *lightly* – if needed, then they weren't about to fall for either his tactics or bogus leadership. Donning the same leveled look and speaking carefully before gesturing for no more to drop in, Barton nodded and announced, "Team TANG; actually, two right now so he can't hear a thing. First up, is Bill Denbeaux; we won't keep you in suspense on this now. He's wanted by SNAFU after robbing bank or brokering some business deal. Looks like he never expected to be caught using body armor in there. Or well, maybe something like that, but, um… anyway, what *could* you expect?" Bucking hard the moustached wannabe general demanded, "Tell the mystery SNAFU officer that my contract is supposed to be *our* MISSION. A light slapping and a punching of the window and – " All three of them flung Bill the fuck out the window at a full gallop, scattering bricks and rocks and feeling nothing aside from utter confusion and awe as Steve ducked the unappreciated volume of battle screams and grunts in the bridge while the rest of them ran frantically to see how their favorite pseudo-runt got by him. The only question that remained unanswered was how many superhuman would show up to a backup brawl. Their first rookie volunteer, naturally, came from The Untouchables, the mercenary contingent Tony now occasionally used (though unlike his own set, the company had yet to invite itself within people's awareness) along with one J.A.R.V.I.S. to lead the additional ranks of hired-guns and crooks willing to take up arms against citizens as defenders. When no images of soldiers had ever been leaked by one Steve volunteered, which might mean anything, or it might mean something as simple as that in his own opinion the world had finally found its Caesar in the Marvel Universe, though that particular piece felt like a weak one all the same. The fighting ended without discomfiting more than a few soldiers either, considering no service had been officially expected of any new recruit, because only Captain America was in the same damned business for these armed revolts; not that the Colonel had been staying loyal to a place in the army, mind you, since the UN had insisted on sending in 'granted' soldiers after he failed to become Captain when they enlisted him; not so many of them as are employed by Tony and JARVIS to in any shape constitute a decent fighting force. There didn't seem to be any point in hiring enemies because only one thing mattered: getting Steve Rogers, making him, and taking him. And it had happened. There was no getting off until anyone else could legitimately become… on his side. That was Tony's line of thought (he knew Barton had put his blood and money and faith behind Steve, but what sort of writer would fail to imagine just how pissed the archer would be if Tony wanted Steve to last in Avengers Tower with impossibly impossible odds?); and now the rest of them, who hadn't even seen one green helmet or heard of 'Steve's Powers' (not like there would be any joining any time soon, naturally), were joining the fray. Part of the group partaking in mostly local militia violence, plenty of them didn't have that much of an attraction to bigger guns, just enough to seem dangerous for their hatred (or self-righteousness, depending on which side of the fence they belonged on) of Nick Fury was a varied enough situation even so. Barton headed straight to join Steve, unaware of the missions the rest of the men had to deal with and wary of Colonel James Rhodes' ministrations, some of which were informedly called "welcomes" by some soldier-children, having lost friends only minutes into battle. The nearly fifty man - medic had worn his combat hat with someone's nose, the sides bearing a patch from the Protector's Council. It read in black marker, "Wanted.*Natasha Romanova." The guards around him muttered something under their breath of what Bucky in the Basket did when on mission; Bucky had thought it was hilarious. But General erasure (and the Commander Wiggum to boot) had checked in and refused to allow Tony to send Stark Industries two million dollars in government aid, all while enunciating that 'military strategy' was always a rather important aspect of warfare in the Protector's Army and wondered why Steve had been sent to find him… 'Steve' whom the Colonel had apparently considered an adequate proxy for other Avengers and CCA officers who had managed to stay close. Not that Tony would have anyway; his alloted amount to fund The Shield had been for living conditions, for avenging his losses on one level or another of command (despite his strenuous wishes). The sheople trying to organize (with mercenary help and exactly whom the meager resources at one end of Clint's bow had chosen to offer assistance) joined in the fight as well, trying to dislodge whatever troops guarding Steve against annihilation; Major Knott head his out from Stark Industries HQ, leaping between Kevin Brett and Soldier Boy, neither very able to participate in such not extremely efficient frontline operations. Steve also threw himself into the final hornets' nest skirmish, meeting all the pirates of Rhode Island along with Mark Bittar and Rick Carter, splitting with Jack O'Lantern and Roger Dent, Lee Turner slipping from Ted Kravitz and Benjamin Raven's grasp with barely a backward glance and apparently confident that everyone else could pick up the slack, another 13-year-old brawler cutting through Kevin Stein's second line. So instead of fighting one giant steely-eyed Leviathan like Romanova, they split in half to try to smash each other's teeth into everyone else, sending civilians scurrying before them like children playing soldiers, hurtling across the roof edge to be pounded back to square one, somehow managing to fight them all with skill and grace – eireannn tha' froa'd, strawled thar aeroplane snae from copent to gloss a little goie. She'd taken the Ranger chaplain's weapon, dealing a nonlethal blow and giving Knight Na'kusti an incredibly long look, and then knocked out with one punch General Mads whose firm were defending Rhode Island. Boggart Caulder and Boggart Trapnot were swiftly dispatched as well, too distracted by all the crazy dudes, daggers in hand, unable to sense any competition before this steampunky gang's gate fell. Rochelle Shires saw no other option for her. She only hoped her public relations campaign had paid off. Especially since their sense of shame about not recognizing her physical abilities had proven tremendously useful in persuading the rest of them to fight long enough to surrender. The Protector's Army… oh, they couldn't have known it yet, but they did. She turned first once the shadow clan was separated; Rogue Witch came from Gaspark base one and surrendered after a halfhearted attempt at enslavement – brawling Rascal arrived soon thereafter, roughed up – Xozza said nothing and spent the rest of the night camped out at her balcony. Arjan picked off a couple off the couch here and there, secretly 'borrowing' weapons (only half of his family actually liked fighting. Walrus Boy acquired all his once and quit after discovering what tattoos really went for if you were inclined to live a long time), a glass bottle making Shire Warrior's massing forces hesitant. One day, more than two weeks after the Battle of Barorca (no big surprise there, considering Bucky and Quicksilver had largely switched their training and gave Natasha far more focus, and knew her as well), they'd discovered the truth of half a dozen tents between barracks where anti-Captain Winter trended, heard the whispers of heroes training late to go to war before their internal traumas became contagious and start garnering the attention of their friends; fifteen newly incapacitated members greeted a military version of Duryea at one tent, watching the action unfold without comment until other bodies showed up. Some had specific complaints, too-some complained about Zodiac, Hunter Devil… Useless Boy got his just deserts, even after being critically wounded, though his neighbors had not spoken or joined in the boos so none bothered them. Hunter Devil even went so far as to insist that Team Bow/Shield report to Red Snowman so he could allayed a few visions and reasoned that this was somewhat out of the ordinary. Of course the snipers over his feet couldn't look away and managed to take down most of their targets and killed Rascal in return, though Quarters was unaffected and at least helped when enough casualties occurred, dealing a genuine punch to Savage Donut which caused her to quickly stretch back towards his men so she could cross paths with Widowmaker. At the same time though, Widowmaker began starting to feel things clearly, and began following Captain America down towards Gaspark, between gathering now of her privates. Her lips puc <|endoftext|> And then suddenly * he * has that look in his eyes like he's about to say something nigglingly and incredibly specific. "Me too," he murmurs. In the back of his mind, Petyr blinks a couple of times to gather his thoughts. "Did you know…? This book is all about sex, isn't it?" "Well you're not just 'making love' to me. You're actually trying to arrange things so I'm in more pain before you've gotten there." "I am trying to do all those wonderful things to your body which you have thoughtlessly written in your story." He grins. "If I don't make love to you right now, I'll feel horrible and I'll be glad later when I can tell myself I was making an act of amorous devotion rather than sleepiness." "Oh really?" Petyr's smile widens. "Which brings us to one thing first. It's –?" "Sure," Petyr lets out a little laugh. "I always assumed your enthusiasm over this aspect of our relationship stemmed from the fact that you are tired of working around everything you come up against when you admit you don't enjoy it as much as other people you take to bed." Petyr's initial surprise doesn't last long, because Petyr smells the hint of discomfort on his prince's lips and tries very hard not to ask him if he means one of his many liaisons with underage girls. "That sounds about right," he says instead. "It'd definitely benefit the peace if I knew some actual pornographers were making it too, though. Thank you, Joffrey," he says, like he expects Joffrey to pick up on what he thinks he said offhand. "Sorry for how un-Christian that sounded," Joffrey assures him. "How about we go with that?" As Petyr waits for the prince's response, she wonders briefly if those boys who appeared in that half-naked photo could end up affecting her taste in pornography. They kind of deserve the title of 'some.' By comparison, she would probably be well worth all their effort. Then her brother (and soon to be husband) has the gall to offer up another (again, admittedly unrealistic) suggestion. "Do you want this girl to be someone you haven't had sex with before, or something you've fantasized about doing in your fantasies but never got to because it just didn't feel right?" Sighing deeply, Petyr looks at him with confusion and says, "What fantasy are we talking about?" "Your princesses, I mean." With an emphatic nod of his head, Petyr goes back to class. A small part of her wants to rush to the bathroom where she can burn this book and throw away the image of it burned into the sheets, but more importantly, she has the complete strength of her willpower. /chapter content Do I Make It Through The Night ---------------------------- Chapter Summary > "Hey, hony boy! Get your butt back towork!" > > So sorry to bring us all back to the actual present day, but it's been bugging the fuck out of me until I finally had to get myself involved in this mess; Joffrey won't stop bothering me. (He's becoming less and less creepy lately, but still.) Plus, we all kinda started getting down with a new author on steam so I figured that was that! I wouldn't lie and say I felt bad but it's nice to have books for sometime now! > > So yeah, hope you like this chapter as much as I do, alright? Hopefully. > > Warning: incest implied, but not *explicit.* Basically. > > Enjoy! <3 > > [fic by springbreakpenguin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/springbreakpenguin/pseuds/springbreakpenguin) > > chapter content Finally pushed to the point of trying to stop himself from writing anything inappropriate, Petyr politely invokes the most obscure rule for publication of non-related chapters that exists in any available manuscript at *insanely shitty royalty fees* and retreats silently from his friends. He's won this round, at least. The thirteenth page of the book contains * a picture * . For ten whole years Petyr was trained to be on his best behaviour, never expecting anyone to find them, or think to point them out unless Petyr signed up for full on name parties, but then. (When he learned all about social programming, he told anyone who asked.) Maybe it was guilt or maybe it was fear or maybe it was a combination of the two, but he's never stopped since to reflect on it because, why the hell not. There it is: Petyr's face staring up into the light of a magazine and there he is, in * his own bedroom*. A stranger can look up to find themselves staring right back, and neither half of a fantasy novelist is aware of how easy it is to do, especially in the state of lust for the novel so young and unchaste that all it does is turn that for half a year ago, even * this * novel makes him happy. Perhaps this will enlighten him. ~*~ For the first couple of weeks after news spreads amongst fiction buyers across north for Westeros, their library managers at HarperCollins sit around with hats and pursed eyebrows, taking in all the enthusiasm. The storm is coming, they assure everyone. Orgasms are just an added bonus. These people haven't seen any cutie, they aren't in love. (They haven't, actually.) Something you might call the Schulze Effect. Over the next few months however, none of them show the slightest interest whatsoever in settling themselves, so the only way the HarperKids get these novels into circulation is via interest groups and bookshops. (You could argue it was always going to happen, however growing scrutiny by retailers due to the HBO series' popularity and skyrocketing interest in all things Game Of Thrones led to a general increase in librarians stocking up on titles to keep existing booksellers in business.) To quote Sean Astin, one of the best in this department, who is either an absolute genius or a red asset, or perhaps a combination of both. Or possibly asthmatic that says otherwise (they hate my cold socks.). The war for hearts, minds, and romance somehow turns into a meta-war when certain authors become suspicious of the Harperkids/author sites reprints in a particular genre. It starts off as pure jealousy, disappointment, and a longing for a chance to bash some heads together, but finds its way into the realm of paranoia when author websites leak already written works under secret aliases. The possibilities of fiction for those few lucky enough to be selected for prequel writing seems infinite and can stretch in any direction, making it hard to grow old ashamed for old mistakes or long-forgotten hurts in the past. Charas Smallwood slips past into both the classical, early modern romance section, focusing almost exclusively on sweet romances, and still taking cover by using synonyms and acronyms to avoid potential fans to the reprints - what he was told 'hiya'? What those 'we got it from here though' signs on the screen do to have mortals stop or start. Alongside Ferrell she only gets a few hate letters every week, mostly snarky comments designed to make the most of her youthful idealism. Realistically they barely stand a chance, so all they really need to know is where there's hope. At least, the hope will surface elsewhere in May. If she's lucky. Her hands are quivering with anticipation as she presses the eagerly awaited invitation up on her website instead of just posting the already written out work and wishing for approval. She slips the aural overload into its own folder - Renly Sweet Lovelies - until someone somewhere notices something wrong with an interval to chapter 2 and breaks her current record by five years. And hopefully two years too soon, as no real strategy as to who's best at bullshit time-keeping exists yet. She waits for a response, stops being surprised when none is forthcoming. Though of course she knows better than to hope for many other responses, than who has the balls to reply. Chastises herself for holding out long enough. Will could only learn in the weeks between midterms (while breaking eighty with a healthy amount of effort), that Dany was not made for romance. Neither were Ser Jorah nor Arya (at least. They had been ballerinas in high school and managed some stand-offish volleyball matches). They weren't brave enough to realize how worthless the awful presents they received at the door *happened *and now hoped the outside world would fill in the goddamn blanks. Oh well, no use dwelling on all of that in the midst of re-readings of chapters 10 and 11. Those were fanfictions first and foremost and she *sadly *did not plan for anything except love triangles. The horse army with now won isn't a surprise at all - what a journey the Lannister wives must have had to go through to be chosen to battle the Iron Throne by accident. (Oh my God, just so you know…sure seemed like luck at the time. That night into morning shuffle, that club called Ice and Fire, the general silence. All those photos from Michael Cera and the Kardashian clan posted with positivity. And boobs!) And George fucking R.R Martin having the *luckiest day in the whole world* in re-reading this first book. While not saying he'd personally recommend keeping watch on him, her favorite author ever may, her support of several of his longer manuscripts certainly has him giving her her fervent thanks. (And wearing his knapsack sideways because Sansa Stark's only) Maybe even hoping she brings him back a whole case to bury behind his mother-of-the-bride's new VH1 reality TV show. And her wish to see *Winter Is Coming* live on the red carpet. (Who wants a cameo from the Spiderman's DMs?) Littlefinger, though, the most sinister bachelor kept in the well of Potterverse fame, keeps slinking along, squaring one undercurrent after another. She worries for the director. She worries for *yesterday *she read what would probably be his spoiler lines - which she does wish to point out she was never scared of at all, *creeping* and kissing Ser Pounce like an axe to the throat to punish himself for giving himself to someone less turned on...yet...on reading this part, but has been willing to remain back as long as a few more page count comparisons remained consistent. Like the constant exception pattern to the lead character going from total tipsy homoerotic to murderous after a drink. But really, everyone should be so lucky? Does one twist of a nipple (probably the safest news in the entire fanbase for fantasizing that wedding happens during campos) automatically, 100% guarantee the beheading their first sight of a member of fandom? Their last toast before noon?" /chapter content Chapter 4 --------- chapter content A couple months down and former crown prince Jaime is again groaning at his hard cock reminding him of "my last crusade, oh god" as he climbs off with a long sigh, losing himself in in deep concentration so full with lust, regret, and self-loathing that they are filling up the room. He holds onto the book that someone like him was required to take even further on second and third draft review, a hefty book worth of poetry of fucking Shakespeare. As Jaime swipes at his scalp and gives over the very world to Lysa, most of the focus shifts to Stannis who had recovered after the second fail in ten minutes, and the only days after that so far. (He heard of Jon next and immediately signed up for the single question who met Jon in the gym.) Up until this moment Stannis hadn't cared at all if Joust action would be under different names like Brandywine, the Red Wedding, Battle of Seven Towers, The Retreat or whatever...They've seen Red Coats do all of it and seen them get it done to Stannis' finest performance, so why the damn doubt anymore? Any battle in the Red Keep will suffice. But hey, before almost throwing his head back with victory knowing what lay ahead for the man to do to his way through his program, he might want to consider himself lucky he'd failed *one *night on the small stage at the prison theater for not-conventionally attractive men and virgins. When he catches the occasional flick glance towards Stannis, most expectantly of Dan & I, he had the deepest sigh for no reason. That there, with little gold colored eyes alight with harsh intent that "I'm glad to see you trying," the expression he gave up with a beat...stunned him more. If the real characters of women's footie didn't think the pre-teen sat beside him had any heart left, Tyrion is delighted to affirm that they're all wrong about who's who. From a 22 year old straight looking for his next bloody great man with his smoldering stare to a gorgeous 34 year old digging deep for plump woman up from Myr beneath the table will be the whole reunion scene until Mormont comes back in 3 weeks to try and make sure everybody meets each other properly. (After what has happened, Sansa would just feel bad for knocking Hrodd he just made even sadder.) At the same time, he wishes not to go so soon – don't wanna wait too much longer then everyone else. The pride he took from his men getting through a maze round without touching their weapons to sense how shocked they were when they found the enemy army was gone without "good luck" is already much too satisfying to contemplate later. Even his armor as better hanger right now than ever. Sometimes hope inspires the worst fear, and that's how one ends up trapped in Littlefinger's trade of flip sides to his bland, drab, monotone…who don't even listen to a man who isn't actually listening to them first. No need to ruin the setting by asking – mere start-to-finish 4,000 words rather than the "results complete now…" and "how much is my friends life in danger here with its' mine to loose?" Littlefingers hands with no regard to politeness or family traditions which no self-respecting armorer should care as much about. This guy can smell a lack of respect as a miscalculation an damn near fatal flaw in a connection between two knuckled loyal members of the Royal family – but maybe instead of lobbing bombs in the kitchens (possibly any of them) he could say goodbye once and for all before drawing a dagger. To knock down the walls of terror at the start, the Knoll is loaded with pots, pans, hot water bottles, magazines, various recipes, porn video players, and in short almost everything that constitutes a recreational looter's paradise is too much to pass up. Everybody knows it though, even the main lords, do things differently around most people. No wonder our peregrine believes it won't be palatable even now – nor the concept at the hand or ideas of happiness in his new world yet incomplete. His kind have always sailed on heedless hope of quick nailing home their prizes, escaping off into the void where they could soar, chase the best sights, the most complicated smells, no eyes but hearts filled with black, and dare I say, darker thoughts. Sure as hell nobody saw Blackwater to rise instead no hope man would show his offspring a part of real Southerners' Christmas wish list. Yours truly knowing (or perhaps convincing oneself I not out of ignorance) that the sort wanted for second gender only exist outside the notion of progeny was heartbreaking enough – here was the crude figure of and eternally loved and adored youngest of their fairies, and right away (during a breach on the Haldon wall), yet another brilliant bloke stuck me like no one is ever expected in my group, so every moment he *was* on our team's breathy Middletown noises were supposed to tell a story he used to tease me about having five nipples because no queen should see fit to send a flying…femme? Imagine me bleating out all the thing the medieval ladies kept us away from, wished nothing above us way but weaklings in battle like Stannis to marry? You have no idea what my heart did until my left and her right met…or in this case *walked* me on down – beggars can't be choosers and no point on saying it ain't about the dame. It's true about her, she let weer actually suck to death all over this fucking ship in every shivering en garde departure during every time the eldest of her set took any initiative and actually ran off with a lower maid? Fuck, if even one bitch in this family thinks men are only capable of guns and wits, then she's a true lassbok in a hierarchy of plump tradesmen with nary a steel beyond tears. She? Bet her cloth-ier cousin didn't raise half these ladies with real ambition to crawl to the topsides and climb to the bloody reaches of kingshit only to try and take down a glass on game or straight eye? (Never made the long view make less sense than watching if you buttered yourself with gold sugar 1,500 years ago now). Maybe true dreams of someone pushing an egg up a tree - not your cup of tea any time though. But someone still kicking for touchin'the nearest johnny-come-latelies and starkers after gruelin' til third face at churche. That kinda lady didn't call anymore, while last considered and tried to keep herself when her tourney ballast man talked her into staying in a cage as long as possible before saying his happy hands. And since the rogue tales she tried to ferret from him, he never knew what to do but grin dumbly, his lips forever cold where they shone like riverstones she let sail on 4th wing against her clothes when she roamed free under the tightest stars. Dude the smartest head coachman behind Andover Highlanders all her life, all these were the days now, when this house ended up in Ascalon if Valemen wanna hoss their Samites on their clothes because Storm's she was quick naught to missin' the babe before it had been faded and finger'd from scars and grimeand yet A-1s watch men just depended on, how would face the parting slanty glassholes that apparently top left house maybe jest survived a skini chinup or two and put there heads up and poor dark eyed dames jest kept strait lines when Joffrey wasn't having them not gettin' it on yet. Maybe me thinkin' is funny could explain why after a few might glances ducking ya across her eyes - callin' us up women are not afraid I'm gonna come check out ye, come shower after and leave in niuffin even tho you seen us every day knowin'? They talk like nouveau ladies and usually don't kick nor smack so hard because 'sen' I tell you what, I see more ho-ringin' women more wandering my ships than come-in and in droppin' behind my mast every single year and I already hitched my tongue and was last pissin' in ye deerskins. If I ain't wrong there was a solid fifty rumble a night that down south, let all these ladies from every fucking region join us and claiming newness and rushing to stay from derks with jackass odds weren't enough to keep them from the whorehouse pits & tail chasers. The nickname was pretty sure when ever they brought something special from outside ain't right - but a chance they got too en bit headed by this 'n that because they really are knotted free you'll get a flamein' on every corner. Tryna tell ye how much guten Morgen always telling niel sure through a nap <|endoftext|> "Absolutely not. It's one of the best things to happen, and one of the worst thing for you. Some bullies can't see past the color of your skin or a brief physical in their head." Sam frowned, thinking on what Michael had said. "You'd say that?" "I know it's extreme," Sam admitted. He continued staring out at his apartment, the morning sun gently striking its face. "It seems extremely unfair that someone like him could get away with it so easily. You, who has never let the fact that you are transgender affect you, is being punished just because he hurt you." "I am here to talk to you about what was wrong," Sam said, voice softening slightly. There was something calming about looking into those hazel eyes that told Sam he wanted to fix this now, before everything escalated. For once, he felt the need to break the silence between them. "Please," Sam whispered. His hand fisted around the small of his friend's back as the raven leaned closer, his arms slipping under Sam's shirt from his shoulders to cover Sam's torso, shoulders rising as his palms squeezed lightly through Sam's dark brown curls. Sam inhaled sharply against his breath and heard the faintest *click* click. A moment later Sam couldn't help but lean forward even more, when Michael's lips pressed to the hollow of Sam's neck causing the latter to look up at his kiss. The raven kissed him lovingly and slightly bit the salty mark on the younger's collar bone before biting down slowly. In response, Sam groaned and whispered, "Niiice, huh?" Michael grinned, and Dean snorted softly. /chapter content Some Time Ago… ------------------------------------------------------ Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes8) chapter content This time last year, when Dean came home from school after training camp for his first game of summer, Michael had been sitting on his bedroom floor by the windows, watching TV and talking excitedly to his brother, who stood to the side reading his notepad. In this place of safety, Michael would be safe. Behind those little black plastic slats upon which no one ever needed to make eye contact with another person, the walls and furniture were his refuge; Michael understood why he should have been shy around that other boy – someone didn't need to touch another human being without the other's permission for fear they might be hurt or even killed. People who dealt with those sort of people often did not show emotion well at all - remember what two layers of plaster put on the upstairs wall on Michael's first day at that particular address? Well, it worked with him, making him unbearably awkward and uncomfortable, and it wasn't hard to figure out what was behind those things either. But the shame still affected him - for once he believed this reputation would eventually change. Over time it turned into that great feeling of how he believed everyone else who knew him assumed his family and friends knew him too. And just how many hundreds of those known people would agree with him that he was. It just affected him inside anyway, instead of putting them off altogether. The raven stared past the television screen toward the door where Dean headed back outside and the air filled with the strain in his lungs and the breathy giggle leaking from his throat that meant he found Dean so hot in his jeans. Michael spent half an hour, glaring at himself in the back window, finally walking over there and grabbing the back of the boys' jeans – that's when he noticed Michael staring at him from his computer screen. Dean cracked a smile but not fondly. As if recalling something. Of course he had. "Hey." Michael went stiff in surprise. To think that their uniforms had them dressed like any boy and not like... "Michael, that's my cock right there," he said pointedly. The other boy rolled his eyes. "Shut up. I mean it." "Let's call that whole deal off now," Michael smirked sarcastically. It seemed a nice reprieve. However he shot out his first attack as soon as the word made itself clear. "I doubt they know anything about your junk, what do you think?" The stern look on his friend's face started making Michael's cheeks heat. They'd talked over being caught doing nothing but kissing - and Dean already felt guilty enough as it was. "Right. Good." Sam quickly joined in the conversation when a certain blonde arrived. She came in clean shaved and smelling like citrus mixed with some kind of spice. Her appearance startled Michael, had her sneaking up to join them. Usually Michael was at least ten meters from her but she didn't seem bothered by that or even return his gaze. Instead she held up her fingers, showing her matching index and pinky finger. She smiled widely and said, "My name's Eve." "Oh, Sam!" Dean breathed as she approached him, returning Michael's stare. "I bet they've got pictures somewhere," Michael commented archly, but the eagerness on his partner's part caused him to lock gazes with Dean, who threw his head back and laughed. Sam's smirk returned in full force - they never had any photos, only multiple rare magazine covers for shows the ages, but that didn't stop them from giggling every once in a while. Dean shrugged and confirmed, "Yup, Sammy, we have them, check with Da…" He sighed in frustration and checked his phone. Sam followed suit a minute later, still smiling. At that instant Michael sneaked around behind Dean and knelt beside him with the command, *Say it*. There was a catch though – his voice was loud enough that most in the room heard him at least. "I told you so, I can see a guy like you already going for five guys," Michael teased. He nudged Dean's leg lightly and leaned over to whisper against his ear. He called out 'Sam. Suck it,' and Dean whistled back until it left his mouth, lips thickening with anticipation. A single action, forceful and almost humiliating, but Dean absolutely loved it. "If you ever want me to keep doing this again, tell me everything - no candy stories from the front seat of a car or the other girls" - Michael pulled himself up by lifting himself up high enough and eyeing the tip of the metal ring on his boyfriend's spine. "When will that baby get her dick?" Dean shrugged, completely fucking kidding Michael, reaching for his balls to support his chest, and not from curiosity or for the sake of tasting some seasoning or taste of cock. More than half-hard because of the action too, Dean was sure – either because Michael thought Dean liked his dick or simply enjoyed fucking this boy in front of him. Either way, the arch of Dean's spine and the pressure of his hands pressed onto Dean only increased his own arousal. Michael stood there stoically as he ordered, daring to let the words slip out. Only one word or tease out of three maybe he could manage. "Girls," he said lowly again but it sounded different – harsher. Never harsh like that before. /chapter content Naked Chicks --------------- Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes11) chapter content Daft as it is, Dean does confess that only to Michael, who assured him that it'd happen often and easily… Dean didn't expect that confession from anyone since no one has slept around this closely in such a long time. As a consequence they were in constant solidarity to hold each other accountable and never say no again. It just wasn't the case at all. (Still, no problem.) Again only to bite the bullet it seems, Deans brave kiss led into full frontal blue eyed version. And even though Dean has only ever seen that act performed by two people it still excites him. Not much better than Sam does and probably quite tough and dirty and needy as well. Only of course doesn't fuck for anybody to never stray closer than his neckline and wipe skin mark after skin mark as well – truly epic stuff. In this regard, fuck, that made Michael proud of his brother. Not stupid cocky, like he knows exactly where the line should be; just more grown up than some teens on puberty days (his interpretation of 'coming of age'… He'll get to make fun of them later). Taking that into account the position in which he found himself with that photo album right in front of him Dean asked to be left alone for a moment to think out of a few things. Michael took advantage of his time to write the 'friends' tag on the log and drive away. This made him smile, knowing that the young man he'd be shagging later would appreciate the gesture, especially if the main attraction was which also happens to be an offer to go to Vegas with him later and meet the previous one's ex wife instead. That particularly eager grin only to remain a little more prominent every time he entered the motel rooms. But this whole coming out thing… It's got to become an everyday occurrence. He just knows it. Everyone in camp knows it - including the little shit and her fucking quiche dick. This day of sex isn't out of the question, and apparently there is that very possibility already broached between his partners and he was not against to start off with the things that suck most of them. A weird shirt - his opinion – definitely frowned upon? Hell yes. Prissy, yes. Sam's hazel eyes crossing his no? Absolutely. A soft touch through the middle of his ass and possibly making a second pass?! Yes, absolutely! Oh yeah, that's your kind of stick too and hey, friend? Now, he's not seeing a chance. He's an accomplished maker, something akin to him... Well, maybe by now he could even use the term his best. Unfortunately, most of the top ten options had no chance of translating into events and outings not filled with pain and frustration and terror. (On the upside, hell y'all can piss in that hole). Now, chances like him, with enough raging hormones and proclivities against all the dirtiness: he'd be the perfect dude for banging down for those pleasure seeking males hell bent on spanking them. As good luck would have it, this actually happened the day when everyone felt very busy with the training and the transfers were running a, really, real close, on Michael who actually came here to prevent Dean and Sammy's breakfast for lack of any choice but the smell and taste... The main reason why, incidentally, he asked for some privacy. . He's both amused and annoyed with himself for making those assumptions... No way, eh? Well, reality though must arrive eventually, and if he is being honest, Dean's skill-set may have improved in light of today's activity, and besides, nobody deserves to be fucked on twice that often. Y'know? So if not sure, in particular or especially if he somehow knew before him, he will have been fuckd by a virgin by now and already pissed himself completely dry. Jesus Christ, these sisplings don't realize it themselves but boys can read between the lines, especially in Donuts. They obviously don't care about people like them, those types who demand better. Sam, he thinks:  if she gets what she wants and decides to give it to him it's gonna be epic. Better than any man-on-man or even straight men because what could she get more outta the straight boys alive? She shouldn't fall in love with him... Or even worse, I might see her so delighted that it might turn fucking crazy. In such case it could be considered as major setback on her part. Come to think of it, she could say she's happy he gave her his first experience, oops... His * first * fuck. We'll see if anything similar would happen to him someday. If Sam continues to screw her over he'd be perfectly fine with it but still other guy ain't gonna be it * today * after what he got her today, now are you coming along with me to Vegas together? Just then an idea occurred to him, easily one he doesn't think he'd ever do in his wildest dreams: hey, that 'hole' hasn't been fucked ever in front of his clear gaze and since how is Michael supposed to know that Dean is beautiful when the day is still so young? At least not from his side. Not that Sammy wouldn't be any of the wonderful ladies' favorites the world had to offer, but it'd be nice if they screwed each other once before forever and indeed they decided to give it a try. (Just to go back to his original point: Fuck with their expressions…) With a smirk, though... He'd recommend a certain face showing affection wasn't to risk. Of course he couldn't help but wonder how many signs you'd need until you reach the wall of blah I mean, of course. Wow, there were plenty left to fangirl about. For all the shit, the pretense and the shit... There didn't seem much bad in the fact either of them insisted to replace yesterday's encounter with (a damn good) sensation again. So, it wouldn't do to miss out; the punishment wasn't complete yet. After that would come the dick inside, and boy, that sounds promising. And with how damn committed they look to him he'd simply pray for the miracle. (Let's not forget the parts where he'll say even if he could he'd rather have sex and things like that with longterm have all sorts of great advantages - a break from current situations and that like opportunity to meet up later would be perhaps the nicest gift he'll receive tomorrow, see what I mean). Dean thought all that while trying to achieve orgasm as he finished "Sand, sand, shit, I've forgotten the way you do it, god you make me feel...." With an impeccable flick of an invisible hand a teacup emerged in place of the second complaint - probably to prevent him from doing it with that obscene looking ruby and make up. Sam got its voice at last and thus was thanking her and probably waiting for a bit of contrast for her confession to come out of the small napkin tucked beneath one shoulder.  "...I liked it, you know... Three ropes. Even though we're hardly all that exciting to watch anymore." Dean immediately dropped into place, checking with his eyes... (Oh what a difference it makes, isn't it?) "That's nice! Nice! Yeah... I suppose it wasn't a waste to compare just now..." And that prompted another playful jab across his own chest. "Wait... You've seen it for yourself?" Smirking at the outrageous suggestion to confess their role to the 2 others - something neither of them regretted though - and nodded, pleased at how possible it seemed. Probably not very funny of him, though... Definitely totally wrong, unless he meant to confirm or deny, but hey, he had back up for that one he felt slightly and took that chance anyways. "No... I mean… I've watched you do it a lot, because I have never been able to find the time during my nights off.. but I thought maybe I remembered enough of your acting style... So, uhm... Hey, let's not take the whole actor thing too far alright? Didn't mean to slip about the fae or anything…" After a quick pause and after what seemed to be a moment of hesitation he spoke again, this time quickly changing the wording somewhat: "Well... You had those eyes." As well he could, nothing more needed. The flaring purple ones were slightly glazed and nodded darkly. "You... Aren't they gorgeous? Almost - ah, lovely... Oh God no, forgive me, this isn't about that. No, I mean, aren't... Beautiful? Wouldn't you agree?" He loved those eyes, knew them too well to really say anything false but still.. It sounded too awkward even if he managed to speak again to alleviate the tension both himself and Michael would suffer in a worst case scenario. Well, not likely if said worst was the two misbehaving couple he had to offer. "And oh… Hell yes, you don't seem to have died off. But I don't want you to. I don't think I want you to come there and wander and crap, leave my secret bed just for you or kiss that sweet cock without me to see and now that I'm sure I can get close, you didn't answer to being satisfied about it. What else would you do in case? Quit just as soon as it gets difficult to find or keep an erection with all those your smiles of yours or finish better than usual even after-" Shaking his head at that the angel tried to rewind the sentence so he could choose what kind of taste he was after instead of facing another pause but in no case had he thought these shenanigans with him. "So *why* did you decide to want to make a fool out of me?" Those piercing little eyes flashed in response and granted him a thin smile filled with deception. "Something happened between us today that made me think... My dick froze because my focus was away from pleasing you; it sensed its purpose changed and it decides to stop." A mewling laugh followed him to explain it being better when you fall to your knees than having a reason to enjoy self pleasure. "I suppose you can see it, is that not obvious? Well then, guess what, the fucker falls to waste all its effort because a slippery notion takes hold of that splendid member and it ignores all those bad attempts that come afterwards. That's fucking sweet when done properly isn't it?" (...) He chuckled breathlessly, aware he shouldn't be smiling since it obviously showed he was smiling, but damn it doing a cute little eyeroll there already.. Being told he had some fun he had experienced making and that he appreciated it always had that effect on him to make him very impulsive. Merely noticing the bed going vague before the instinctual lapse of his rationality he huffed out a startled non-answer of "Not interested, I mean what in the hells is that supposed to mean?" Once again there was a reply and this time not one of dishonesty, still aiming at hopefully pass with them, only a tiny whisper "... Oh come on... We could have things too, and then we'd know each other for exactly who we are... Right?" One slow and much slower shuffling sound to confirm confirmation was all the tip that confirmed where they were heading. He wanted *anything*. He wanted everything, hot lust and delicate silences only and never a sense of detachment should surprise them. He wanted this and wanted *even more* of *everything*, entirely the best he was capable of having now that they got closer. Only a great thinker came to consider it strange. Every night like every morning and every day continued until the day after, the rough texture of the sheets pressing gently against his hands. The very instant he wanted his breath caught by something, angelic words soon followed and a gentle pout of the second half of 'first date' stuck to his throat. In contrast to the hazy sensation found when their sex talks came to mind she had come around, entirely taking his word to be true. She didn't know where they got it from, he had told her much earlier than that so that indeed that must be correct, despite where he was led the first time he'd gone down on his best friend she wouldn't believe the thing any of that. Ironic how, whether or not it was the part of the date or not, her opinion knew perfectly well what was going on inside the handsome man of blue. Judging from the mild look she raised his decision of a night alone changed greatly. So there was really no business to be seconded in bringing her right into the situation. Hinata's advice was fully endorsed when he looked her straight in the eye, which wasn't really surprising since she decided not to immediately shy away from what with his sudden confession <|endoftext|> But no. He already knew what he would need to do – he only wished that he could be as patient with Nikolai as Beka had been with him all these years – but there was no way for him to test his hypothesis on a broader scale. "The only way we can find out is by traveling to the outskirts of the town where you gave up shelter after that accident." Yakov nodded, examining the small map once more. He sat down on the floor next to Mikhail who began rambling yet again about how everything was about to change in the world because a new protagonist took the spotlight from A.A. and Otabek. Eventually Yakov stood and drew the same circle around himself – his badge. "And if you happen to know where my cub has hidden himself, I'm going to want to know exactly where it is." "He probably left us!" His mate pouted loudly in frustration at being ignored by one of his two chess partners. Mikhail shook his head grimly – he wasn't as good as someone such as Sif, after all, so any information about his son was better than nothing. As it happened however, Mikhail did not have to worry about hiding his son for long before his own suspicions were proven true. While walking through the streets of Magadan he stumbled upon a small bar near the edge of the district inhabited mostly by middle-aged men and women. And the barman was glaring right back at him. "Guess it's more fun to me being stuck here with old people than having to spend the day in court?" Shaking his head slightly, he walked further into the little village to gain even more cover. At this point his worries were already doing their work to distract him – most likely thanks to the player under his mask. Even though he had seen her just now, she had still been wearing the blonde sweatshirt she had worn in the previous episodes, something he had never seen her ever do before. That aside however, the lack of sweat was already a good sign, considering their current altitude. Of course on the subject of change... It looked like not only was Nikiforov going to take a page out of his book; Viktor may have reached the beach too. Behind his back Viktor decided that they should go for the check-in desk at some point today. However for the moment the smug look on his father's face seemed to serve him well; especially when the clerks still thought there were no benches in the room. In retrospect, the move may have been the biggest mistake of his life – to get so involved in negotiations with the Kingsville branch of Medvedev's holdings, while he did not even understand half of them by reading his portions of reports all the time. A shitstorm was brewing in the background, which he didn't really care to know anything about – the worst part though, was the fact that his second cousin may suddenly become the center of all his troubles. Viktor wanted to go somewhere private, where he could work without worrying about others having a single knowledge of his private life. Thus Krasnoyarsk came to mind immediately, although it might well become a sad memory. There was another reason why he had come to think of the city though, considering its idyllic water views and cheap waterfront resorts. Which was something they needed to visit during the trip anyway. The return of family members to cities made room in the constantly decreasing list of winter holidays since life became so much easier over the past years. As normalcy came, he felt he lost something in Krasnoyarsk – neither socially nor philosophically. Whether by professional reasons or some other tragedy, every year Viktor almost never managed to visit the manor. Most often he saw the former head of Kazankovskaya department staying in solitude in the outer reaches of Krasnoyarsk who nonetheless, almost always returned from their annual vacation back to Dnieper again. He still always found it hard to believe about the existence of such a place while physically standing right behind the doors in his office at the ministry. Despite this perhaps most important emptiness, his first impression of the sea view hotel may well have been wishful. Little wonder when he stepped into the restaurant the next day feeling thoroughly depressed. Maybe if he hadn't had met the players, he would have never guessed that Krasnoyarsk was practically an ice rink in the winter months when he first went there, but when he did – his disappointment quickly turned to glee. The sight of cold white snow coating one side of the huge facades kept his heart beating fast and joyous inside. Good heavens he was right. Winter in this area had been a hobby since childhood – and it took very little effort at all to dress up for it. Or at least that was the easy explanation of why they had always paid so much attention to the weather forecast – Krasnoyarsk obviously liked to add something bright and dramatic in every location across its seaside estate. "Let's go guys, it's time to meet up with our patrons in the observation room!" Sighing resolutely, he closed his eyes and groaned inwardly. This is probably all he needed to do in order to explain to Viktor exactly what should be expected from him at such a moment. For now, it couldn't be helped if he stopped at some departmental details. They certainly needed to keep close records regarding their guests' purchases and movements, because Viktor, well, nobody else knew quite how to deal with an adult. Besides being just thirteen itself, he had moved out from Bekauren exactly five months ago. Still, twenty children living and dying in one city didn't hurt anyone. At least one thing which had become clear during his little talk with Ruyoung earlier, was that sometimes, it really didn't help. Their young members definitely needed a safe seat in the business of managing such lucrative transactions and thus a development within the province from an equally worthy organisation. Being an amazing business coach he certainly had no idea what should be expected from himself by now, at least when it came to money and assets. He tried to ignore that when discussing the subject last time. Anyway he took to heart his dinner reservation today. Well, he had written down on a large piece of parchment the state of the kingdom and the amount of cash and property transfers, out of hand, over the previous three weeks. Given the eventual agreement with anyone who ever dealt with such firm claims, he intended to record at least a week worth of declarations of the lowest legal classes. The brat must have been ecstatic because he pushed his appetizer in front of him almost innocently as Viktor waited for his turn. Had it not been for those pouting teens, he would have enjoyed his meal a lot more. Already looking distractedly around, but extremely hungry despite actually having delicious food at hand, he ducked under his armband again and watched the view. If someone had said Viktor focused solely on admiring the beauty rather than doing useful things with it, nobody would have believed him. Like fashionably dressed men usually needed something to do, they immediately started talking about their latest horse races and skating exhibitions which brought fresh air into their flat. All manner of games – hardball or pushups among them – happened among the close circle of acquaintances. Gently guiding his cup on the table with the upturned tips of his fingers, he slipped his hand down past the bandage that covered the most sore one. Wasn't the dirt crawling on the ground really sweet? And that was how they spent several hours; chatting casually about the latest activities of their local organisations before settling down to eat and exchanging stories. The evening passed easily for both sides, conversations vaguely coated in a blissful atmosphere after a day of with-in-general, with all manner of internal travails left mostly for another time to discuss now. In turn, Viktor easily listened to whatever talk his former colleague was having. It all turned out, in fact, to be nothing but typical things about the mansion and its owners who otherwise didn't give off any hints concerning his current personal hardships. Right away as soon as Viktor made any slight changes in the lease agreement the youngsters took it as challenge to emphasise by pointing out how unfair the gesture appeared at a glance, should the latter notice certain flaws. An event which unexpectedly opened the wounded lad's eyes stared firmly at the insufferable jealousy shown by Viktor's outer image. At first the confident child had briefly wondered whether Viktor might have been an infidelity, but then he quickly realised that the cup still held Vasily's coffee cup (and Vasily, some time ago when those two discovered they shared the same nationality, had told him that it wouldn't kill you to enjoy some sweets with just your partner). However in that time, despite being clearly friendly, until Viktor genuinely started listening, everything Viktor often went through, and their discussions only grew more unbearable for him. So much that it seemed as though the lad was just made out of empty space where before some meaning had already been added. As he chatted with various co-workers about mundane workplace and other matters, he found them working against each other, including him, even in the best of circumstances. Some kept telling him to deal directly with Jelena (and vice versa), while others would question what level of fisticuffs Viktor was prepared to tolerate if those prospective social interaction took place before the age of fourteen? While the former members frequently had some sort of awkward discussion when their younger colleagues "hacked" for instance and sent them pornographic material, the latter group, including Ruyoung, Joongsheon and Lee Jongkook, just acted indifferent. Undoubtedly satisfied with his current state of affairs, Ruyoung led the meal round to the evening party, attempting to indulge his superiors in juicy gossip of later. When they were rather joined about how lively and disorderly the proceedings turned out to be, Ruyoung, at the behest of his bosses, finally pleaded the use of his eardrum to enjoy his own proposal, passing on some information he had gathered from another acquaintance. For the present these new developments did not get off without an unpleasant end for those completely unfamiliar with one another, because (soon) however, Jelena had telephoned via her contact that the two would have dinner together tonight, from whereupon Jieun had confirmed it was going to happen and suggested a comfortable setting (possibly something with a business background) so that she could leave for work after this left an impression. Although she ultimately had also planned to travel back to Moscow later that night, she wouldn't have done that had they told her they would still be holding this encounter. By the way it occurred, however, eventually things managed to progress into the party and the dance, which was allegedly to start very soon afterwards. The number of local people also increased, although it should be stressed that there was no commitment in return from Jelena. Besides, those visitors too were running high on the excitement of having met their future confidante, seeing himself in the twinkle of their eyes. They expected her to appear as soon as possible and present herself this time around, ready to speak with them. There was always just an unmistakable emptiness around Viktor, despite him currently being inundated by everyone at work, apart from one or two extra, low rank subordinates for reasons which one was going to need to deal with sometime. This by itself became increasingly difficult to bear for anyone familiar with Viktor. His relationship with those women was inseparable, irrespective of any social points which separated them, despite their acquaintance. They wanted to spend months together there had nothing to do with the fact that he had returned to Russia. She, alone, waited for him every single second, time and time again, and now finally had the opportunity to propose marriage to him when he had returned home! Just how many lovers may be waiting for a chance to make-up with Viktor, who maintained his distance, trying to keep out of the spotlight? Jelena, who surely knew full well that all the decisions regarding the life course, didn't expect someone like that. Needless to say, the young man fell under a spell no matter how much he fought against it, constantly wandering where ever he could, cuddling up on couch cushions or in lower living rooms to watch television. There was no big desire to go anywhere for this night, some time, nevertheless he fell asleep sitting quietly beside his other acquaintances, with a distinct impression that he had fallen asleep with the realisation that these sort of regrets were hard to shake off. Some time, unfortunately it's even like a dream, dreamlike hours if not a total dream which would come along as a blur at some point during the following day, much to everyone's irritation, as their starlets (notably although sincerely) pointed out. Just as Jheira pronounced their mantras in unison, Viktor, following up firmly onto his previous words, informed his remaining closest to them with the announcement that whatever silly distractions they put in wait for him would come to naught: they would never succeed! That probably meant that it was officially off limits, that they could now focus completely on helping each other. He anticipated a few stern words from his bosses, explaining them what people like them really were! But what he had refused was any suggestion that he pick the priorities, they had simply got everything on their and his own heads, that unless he was ready to 'grow up' and accept the situation, that he did not want to behave like someone 'just another boy'. Those people obviously saw themselves in him since years already, an essential prerequisite for getting laid, regardless of their claim that he did not possess anything new compared to his elders. And indeed these expectations wouldn't have changed even had Viktor approached instead, of both sexes, well into his thirties. That, however, would prove just as fruitless as always - a year sooner than assumed had already passed and he'd achieved practically none of his financial goals - shepherding his company in precisely that direction, a single digit percentage had already fallen in those fifteen months and would just watch it crumble until after that decade reached his "age". Therefore he would only meet his desires "within reason" - and when once Viktor found it almost painful to restrain himself from returning with something resembling expectation or such, it could only be because in his case it was actually necessary. Which was why the wedding was quite important - the more person his affections took – the more – well, a successful union resulted, they had only proven this time around: he - and those around him.  There were parties of any kind, functions open to everyone and often convened nightly since the majority of the officials invited there had many female friends, ranging from child social workers to this particular woman: thirty-five, with twenty years less on those it needed no introduction and considerably younger than most, a field administrator in charge of a young foreign couple, while others wished them happiness and also were otherwise passing the time outside of work. Everyone celebrated these events and played up on them, reinforcing all prejudices about the opposite sex, going as far as comparing men and women and sexually harassing those people who dared to doubt that such gender discrimination hadn't diminished over the years. Of course, she took a sharp counter-measure, as she deemed absolutely necessary. From little begrudged he's been through all day, it came as little surprise that her default person was always the middle-aged woman who surprised him, to begin with, leaving his inner world altogether as the foreplay. In fact, he could start to suspect that this *swooning *woman had become somewhat active during his absence, though at times there seemed to be multiple handsome faces that rendered her flustered by surprise and anxiety. However she observed, variously paraded around in a pair of half-closed pearl glasses with crooked blue frames, wearing a dark coat in such a way as it left hardly visible for the garment to peek out from underneath: bright white dresses made without seams looked beautiful; short skirts had no problem though there were whispers about how impeccable these ones were the girls with deep high-heels and carefully styled lips around said heels could confirm what they thought about her, whilst jeans seemed archaic enough to suddenly conjure things which were completely unrealistic: solid, long leather boots with the sole as tall and conspicuous as a mast above the horizon whilst vestments while tied with lace and delicate buttons were somehow more beautiful than light but elegant skirts. Obviously in Viktor's opinion, it wasn't the slightest bit strange to find women with *this* type of the wardrobe or especially not though, noting when she changed to say *style, *her style, they wondered what special dress, suit, shoes, et cetera were required to emulate their style so effortlessly without having to do anything - despite expressing himself strongly that indeed it would take patience, skill and earnest effort on his part to truly win someone over the first time around… *in fact*, they might *really* suspect him because that was exactly what that woman would probably tell him. Every woman, especially those among her flock who were more aware of trends such as would see her, wore such clothes: she needed to wear them, it had happened recently enough and the whole chain formed a convincing group whose repeated methods were indeed praised publicly. Likewise those small casual elements should show well in contrast to the classic/absurd adornment! Thus they would not get by to her if she saw her as a simple one dimensional object, making the practical decisions in her spare moments anyway, may be that the moment could turn ambiguous if necessary and if his risk became too great for her to turn her back to them...After those memories, he barely resisted sighing inwardly, it was purely coincidental that his task, just a childhood if you wanted to put it that way, without his words or act would involve taking out a kamuy: It couldn't be good luck - so considering that he had an occasion for being faced with that sort of thing tonight, he let it pass immediately; a good cover-up would make it through tomorrow alright and if he called on her again, as is expected of *some *of his employees or soldiers - well, she would certainly thank him later… Of course if she felt compelled or unsafe during your working hours, for some oder noble cause, than she could still slip past them because we really didn't care...Just which armchair authority figure did he just force *somewhere*?...sounds like a mighty well calculated trap that would fall upon him... Ah, just everything. Unless he lost the tact as usual – had his current mission failed to yield results – by the end of the night at last, he would have reached his chance where first contact the same man would suddenly "appear", ignoring small talk, asking for info at all, loudly babbling, until come the next morning, suddenly he'd disappear from no more than he hadn't travelled in days… And now, he was pondering whether or not he should decline this "temptation" as foolish and possibly dangerous rather than attractive or enticing like a young and promising man on a quest or even dazed, confident - so that maybe that dear, amazing fortune changed today in exchange for something happening already because his eyes seemed a lot prettier after some wine. After hearing some children giggling too fondly at another child which was asking a number of questions, nuzzling cheekily under the collar as if it would get a laugh by doing so, pulling shoulders instinctively as if the hand petting before it was lucky in spite of his initial hesitant body language while knowing about that class which placed the priority on important, accidental contacts, regardless of the numbers behind it and other "gifts of a gift" he kept seeing many of his superiors received, yet, he did not move as such slightes would surely attract attention. He realised he only noticed when two characters turned out to be of the older variety to take shifts by each other to avoid talking, thus following the teacher on a path already travelled by those of even shorter stature of habit. As for the latter who introduced herself as *Penelope*, he glanced upward and took note of that far too profound expression she radiated! In simple terms, *it was cute! *In addition, a closer eye had allowed him see how a very familiar fashion settled upon his being shabby and tattered, as he visibly tensed (when said troops already had three younglings wanting to lead them out, it seemed actually obvious at *that *stage not to run away!) beneath the desire to please her – see where is maybe the little question mark appearing "too* just *there"? However, he chided himself that he should remember all the 'good luck' and *very good* moments which both of them experienced prior, or even working in <|endoftext|> You still have a long way to go, but you're getting there. You're so close! You know it. And I don't think we've even been truly together yet." You managed to wriggle your way onto his lap so you were lying on top of him and giving a nice cock swinging up into her mouth and making her gag. "So, you understand why she'd try and use you to get at me, right? It doesn't make sense, considering you are both married." He laughed, jiggling and pulling a bit, making the redhead uncomfortable for a moment. He leaned down to get at her neck, earning a sharp bite from her that made you release a laugh as well. "She could be done trying to use me to get your husband away from you, though." "How do you know that?" /chapter content Chapter 1 --------- chapter content Morgana smiled when she caught Draco leaning against the little bar just outside the main bar where there was plenty of seating and dancing, meeting her in between dances. She was going out with someone tonight, he realized with a gasp, and the feel of his hips pressed down over hers on that sort of dance floor made his knees weak. He immediately set about dancing with her instead. She didn't seem to mind the hint that he was younger than her, although the thought alone sent sparks flying between them. They ended up dancing closer and more intertwined than they normally did, even touching along the curved back of her hand. He felt her hand snake up his inner thigh until her fingertips brushed the top of his boxer briefs. Then he knew everything would be ok, this seemed far more comfortable than a street or a club night. "What are we waiting for?" "Dancing?" "Absolutely." They danced one more dance, broke into a bit of a staring contest before deciding to let their tongues trail across each other in an attempt to break up the awkwardness. Each expected to meet eye-to-eye as they had before. Morgana found herself wondering if one of those eyes belonged to Severus, his goatee only adding to the mystery. Once the lingering question was answered, she asked, "How'd you manage this one without making it very obvious at first glance?" "We…" He huffed. "There was some confusion earlier. And I don't think they noticed." "Yes, but then they certainly would not have failed to notice now." With a long look he made himself sit upright and turned to face her with an easy conviction. "And where was I again?" You turned from Severus to stare back at him, having been aware that something happened between them on the train ride and hadn't recognized Draco's thoughts. "Well, that was apparently my fault after all." She sighed as she gave a bashful little grin. "It's not that I did anything, it's just that you took off after me." "All right." He leaned forward so his chest was almost touching hers and seemed surprised by what was happening. "But I do know that when I saw you there you two exchanged knowing looks," he said as if thinking aloud as his hands dropped from her hips and began caressing her thighs. She stood up to give her hand a light squeeze, eliciting a moan in reply. He knew she wasn't feeling much, he had been distracted enough times by that to know she might be annoyed or insulted by his persistence. "Tell me… How had you known that this exchange would take place when we were on the platform, or wherever?" "Aurors," she put out with a sultry exhale. "I see." His hands continued their erratic movements, straightening until they rested on her waistband. One of the faster moves had them being nearly standing side-by-side as they leant away from each other to brace against a wall. Their lips met quickly as they leaned against the surface, registering each other well for the moment before Draco broke them apart again to press another rough kiss on the lower part of her jawline, knowing he was asking the right thing. "Give it time," he whispered. "You are my confidante, no matter how you want to behave in public." The long silence that ensued had her at a loss for words. She glanced down to find a patch of exposed skin between his shoulder blades that wasn't covered by her headdress. Allowing him to give his tongue another last gentle flick, he once again leaned over and carefully ran it around her skin. When they returned to normal, she found him frowning and glaring at the door, whether because he wanted to slam it shut or not was unknown to him. Whether he chose it or just happened to stumble upon it without noticing was all one needed to know, for there was the considerable heaviness under his gaze while she wondered why he had never before been interested in breaking out of the common restrictions. "Tell me," he urged again. Her ears twitched. "Don't worry about telling me, I already know you haven't ever been interested in any women of our generation." He snorted at that. "But they said so." Your eyebrows arched as you thought hard. "You just happen to have some company to answer to these days." Draco rolled his eyes, "Lets move on… Tonight." You trailed around behind him when you'd locked down, letting yourself lean into him and giving in to the urge to lap his mouth in anticipation, already starting to wonder why this couple of hours were so intense. Which they would be going through later, to which you replied was probably soon enough. "Tonight… we're both curious to get away from normal life." When they were on the tip of her tongue, you crossed your arms between your thighs in defiance of the feminine dress she had graced them both with only moments before. Instead, you slipped a leg up underneath yours and settled a thigh on either side of his, checking your heels didn't touch the floor as you both wondered if she would appreciate how short your legs were. Draco did, to your delight, and you ground your toes into the cushions. Even though she had left them practically down on the floor, they remained incredibly high and perhaps she decided you could show off by spreading them apart; he could tell she found the lack of her fingers delicious when he slid them up. She was *very* turned on by being the center of attention, you thought wildly. The tautness to your cheeks suggested that you had also noticed, and you sent his hand to stroke it teasingly. He frowned softly and cupped her cheek gently. "Are you thinking about me, Hardy?" This earned the widest smile on her lips, although her eyes still danced like waterfalls as she pushed herself away from him, still blushing deeply despite the cold from just a few inches above him, and crawled backwards towards the entry hall. "Hermione Granger's having fun tonight!" She leaned back until her lips joined yours again and groaned through her teeth. "Do you think we can keep doing this?" "Oh! Yeah, sure," he replied as a chuckle ran underneath it. It was time to move, she reminded him. "Wouldn't mind." They fell into the bed together, following the path she'd led them along the last ten minutes or so. She managed to reach out with her other hand to push you back onto the bed next to her while looking around at you with devilish lust on her face. "What about yourself? What do you think?" she whispered. "I think I've got something in mind," you confirmed with an effort. "We should probably make a way to show off if you want." "There was an old saying once about finding the gift, er, umm... one of your countrymen's preferred to hear you talk in love terms." She nodded at his impish grin. "Always believe there's a roadblock, sir." As did you, Draco, and we all watched her writhe wildly in your embrace, wondering what you knew about the concept of someone dating and then sleeping in the same bed. "Yes, it's kind of odd, but whatever. I'll take anything less than one per cent," you pulled away slightly, leaning in and kissing him sharply. The muscles in his shoulders tensed as you drew closer. "Come on, show me," you purred, hoping in a desperate touch that you might at least earn him to give you something concrete you were dying to work up to. "Go ahead, Hardface," he drawled, pushing aside the envelope of his clothing so you could see his body pretty clearly before yanking his shirt over his head, holding it to reveal just that – those magnificent blue eyes on you. At the sight of him under those bifocals, you wondered for a moment what she would think of her own expression if she saw you glancing from him, moving casually about the room with things askew. He felt rather gratified to be the recipient of such thoughts. "Show off," he pushed you to move into a stance he recommended, letting his palms fall away from each other as you replaced his hands back on your hips. His hands took the long ones and brought them under your shirt where they rested against your ass as he pressed himself firmly against you and lifted his hips, slowly but confidently pushing back against you. Her eyes met yours briefly but didn't blink, although his elbow brushed her thigh and that let her back away from him when he breathed a high 'oof'. She, at least, kept her gaze focused on him, the glow of her blush coming to symbolize her appreciation rather beautifully, and a wave of relief washed across you when she finally realized he was kissing you. Draco released your jaw to press a second kiss into your mouth while you fingered his neck and ran your fingertips down his skin to the silky curve of his collar bone. In all honesty, you wanted to protect him. You wished he could deal with her making his actions outside his bedroom regarding sex on you through the parchment. If he had it, your free hand followed the second, lower line of his throat, back to its juncture. Lapping greedily at him, you gripped the bottom of his skull where his hair filled in neatly between her cheekbones. As relieved as you were to see him more than ready to lay his hand on your hip now, you didn't say anything as she pulled down his jeans and underwear. When he pulled himself out and flopped on top of the sheets beside you, wriggling down and hooking an arm beneath your head to plant himself up on the pillow between your thighs, his skin did actually look pinker when you looked closer. To be fair, that might have been the fact you'd gotten off-handedly cleaned after bed. A gasp made the blond recline into his position, eliciting another gasp from you. His dark eyes returned to hers – fire seemed to sparkle in his amber orbs while she pinned you. Just at the edge of her vajra, he hesitated to cup one of her breasts again and pressed their foreheads together with an accent of questioning hunger. She drew back abruptly, jaw snapping at him. "Look me in the eye," she said simply and reached with a single finger to brush his forehead. Draco blinked quickly at her words, but ignored them completely. "Kiss me, Merlin!" A faint, pleased hum forced itself to ring clear in his ear. Turning, you swept up under him to fix your hair in place before turning him in your direction, placing your hips on either side of him with a bright flush atop your chest. He quirked an eyebrow at you amusedly. "I don't believe I've ever heard you talk about a woman this way, Miss Granger," he remarked, rolling you back into him with surprising force. Frowning, you leaned back into him and traced delicate kisses along his jaw. "Was I... asking for too much, Malfoy? Did you even know who I was?" He cleared his throat before answering. "Does anyone ever ask any other girl on a date?" he asked, letting his tongue ghost your lips for a moment. "Oh… yeah." Staring back at him now, your expression twitched with impatience. "Shouldn't I be impressed by your attention when I work around you like this? You can't compare yourself to an attractive man in front of half of America who is the Head of the Dark Arts department! I… it feels wrong." A sharp downward tilt of his chin suggested the full understanding he would elicit from you without hesitation when you got in the mood. "'Any other girl' is a fine variety of advice." "It isn't," you said stiffly and stood slightly to let him in so he could settle into your space again. Gently, he pressed a strong, clear kiss to the area of your stomach behind you where you pressed yourself in a narrow strip between your thighs. Setting himself back against you once more, his cock slightly between your folds and teasing his tip inside you, *for emphasis* to himself, he added, "So tell me again, Miss Granger – do you have another girl living who would want to tie you up with Slughorn's wand and fuck you until your joints lock on a regularly scheduled basis?" "Not particularly!" A sudden spasm of excitement flushed across your cheeks as well as in your heart – you hadn't even considered *what* that would feel like or meant at that particular moment in time. Besides *him*, anyone else would do. For once, not being able to get enough could not hurt anything. "Well, we've just got to start training." "...Boys already sort of general. Maybe because you didn't train by relationship skills either," he teased breathlessly, giving you a smug grin. When he smiled back at you, your heart lifted another ten notches in your chest. "That's why I thought you should see someone for several years; more accurately, see no man, thus avoiding scaring men away." You sipped at the honey beater, marveling how intensely her wank had increased every day since you broke your previous sexual barrier with one of your close brushes with him. Her moans became stuttering squeals as his words sank in. "...and then they'd spend the rest of the time just having shitty romps about nothing and getting a little lazy, too. And then you come along and ruin everything." You snorted in mock outrage. "What do you know about what I do?! Being a seer for eight hours every morning makes me far above those other people, not these schmucks having their time wasted on little slut games!" He laughed softly in response. "Probably was lucky that I never found your fingers penetrating my ass, who knows what kind of medical bills my damn magic hammer would have racked up." For the first time since you met, you felt yourself cooling rapidly. He cast a slight charm upon you and crept gently up your body to explore your nipples gently and hide therein your nipples and smile at you fondly. "Why does everyone wonder why witches don't pick lovers during such a romantic evening…" "To be honest," he said seriously as you teased the both of you almost possessively with soft touches, "you are none of my concern." "This sort of thing is about yourself, doesn't it," you mused coldly, while he sucked your plump breasts in an affectionate attempt at flirtation. As if in warning of what he was about to say, you stepped forward to drag a thoughtful huff from him in response. You needn't have bothered, though – his eyes narrowed and his breathing accelerated in delight as he turned around, more focused than ever as he displayed his talent in trying new things with his mouth. It proved distracting, to say the least, as you slipped around until you were pressing deep inside him – pleasantly surprised when you dragged your walls to meet yours as well, taunting your hungers against each other, allowing his tongue to search and clean inside you in curious exploration. His own saliva lubricated and replaced your slickness to make a thick lube around both of you – a gift from Snape himself. While he planned to work with his boyfriend a bit longer to develop a good lovemaking routine, he might possibly soften your stubborn streak, but you would definitely have more than his limited experiences available for your revision. Letting you add "a very, very long, highly satisfying stretch until you forgot all about your hormones and lost yourself completely to your current companionship" to your list of useless fantasies, you really didn't think so until your laughter died off almost dead on him as his smooth, sunken tongue swept over your clit for much needed traction. *Like completely completely helplessly powerless, aware only of the free rein granted by his alpha tongue*, you muttered to yourself, compensating the dizziness by emitting rapid puffs through your nose as you remembered something fun that neither of you had actually experienced yet but you supposed could not be left off, nor should you ever suffer right now. Ignoring your reactions, Dumbledore took your hips down steadily until you tipped him up and he circled and began trailing you easily inside him in a steady up and down movement that was done entirely too quickly to ask anyone to think positively that *anything* could ever be exact right now! If anything, you sighed out through clenched teeth in frustration, closing your eyes tightly and wrapping your limbs around his. As he became accustomed to your making quite a lewd mess on his cock, you wondered if you should return the favor and take the initiative, but alas, you hadn't been born then, and as Snape had taught you well long ago, *there is nothing worse than being impatient.* With that thought firmly lodged in mind, you carefully resumed what you were doing – hungry barely even stopping to wait for him to go slowly enough to brush his cum onto your still dampened slit before continuing with a steady pace at a steep incline that brought your head to rest almost directly on the other end of his arse. Neither of you gave another thought to him again until you were tossed like rag dolls into a speeding cobalt car and were thrown against each other in a ferocious rip-roaring three-way fuck fest. *There will be consequences,* you mumbled to yourself, trying your best to keep her from replaying the whole string of bad luck that led to this point as such. That was beside the point for now. Instead, she pulled back carefully to make sure not only were both of you safe but with her in complete harmony, you decided to help her get something warm to suck you off. Dumbledore fucked you mercilessly as you braced yourself and even once he reached the back of your body, curled his forearms around you that he used as bridges to break every bone in your body on the way up and tossed her giggling mishap into your arms. 'Okay, now turn your hands over, or you're going to get whacked, giggle,' he ordered before picking up both of you one at a time without mercy and slamming them each in succession. If the sensations sent a thrill of elation up your spine, the way he was going fast made her notice the position of your mouths; she eventually rolled onto your stomach, although still seated deliciously on top of you and locked her other leg over your chest so your shoulders were rubbing against her smooth shoulder blades. Oh, how much you loved the feeling of her up against you, how long you'd worked it out her body already and knew it would become hotter with intent, actually. Damn it and fuck not her face...but Draco! While it wasn't as breathtaking in person but aching good old-fashioned sex, you seemed all the same right now as the pleasure, that wonderful deep undulation and hardness teased, and enjoyed. Flipping her attention to you, she pried at your ankles until they loosened and let you grip onto the steel edge of the rings in front of her backboard – apparently, Dumbledore's insistence on playing havoc on your nerves might be a good sign, since she was sure doing your own counterclockwise rotation irritated you too. In addition to pressing against you in direct opposition to her aroused pleasure, she paused only briefly just <|endoftext|> Now, I can tell you that love and the obligations it entailed were tough. You were never very good with saying no, and as long as we needed your signature, you signed it and did whatever was said in your character. I mean we had to get married because he was a lot of things - arrogant, bold, clueless but always there, someone who could hold his drink and cut all the right shapes of people's shins. But this wasn't just about him, even though that was pretty big for me. (No, he wasn't responsible for anything bad, or at least, not my understanding it like that). It was about him making peace with himself enough to say the damn deed out loud – to give something back that it wouldn't take away.  He said those words to me once when the nerves got to him on an anxious evening and he closed his eyes tight and gave them full statement, as if he'd known how to do that all along and was finally letting out the rest of the beat of life instead of regretting having waited until much later to do so. Or, perhaps he was embarrassed of this vulnerability, but being the symbol around which it grew meant he couldn't help it.  Maybe we would have been happier if he had forgotten how to be emotional for a while. This isn't exactly happening tomorrow. Good god. (These are actually his first lines, if I remember correctly.) When some friends showed up now, they dragged him outside and spent one extra hour following him around, and using every close pass to prod him into acting. After so many years of speaking freely with Jack over drinks, it is some relief. Of course, they seemed happy about their own fate in reading the hand of fate rather than the simple events in front of them. Maybe I should have kicked them before they showed up…but I knew why they came. They followed to bear witness. * Hooray! Now they've taken a liking to my dumb dog. * (Thank you Amazonian gentleman!). And that honestly worried me. When the tide is in tune, I don't know how potent the fallout will be. And you know my weaknesses well. We'll see about that in another life – four lives, actually, but really, just one now. For now, give those horses a pull! (How am I supposed to let this go?)" Finally wrapping your knife tightly around the cord and steadying yourself against it. Glancing towards the opened door. The blonde sighed softly and drew a hand across the thin plaster. "Oh crap, what is she doing?" Just being forced to watch. Fingers skimming the burnt seam along your bedroom wall under the doorframe. Eventually stopping to note your wand within the kitchen cupboard. A moue. Just like one of those time periods in Harry Potter? Seeing the blonde nod her head, then hurry off towards the other direction without a word. Eyes watching you and heart the size of a planetesimal whizzing away in your chest at her exit. You cautiously raked out a few drawers until you found the latch for your 'home.' Opening the door gently from left to right and feeling the new earth around you. Groggily bringing your umbrella down with a gust, taking steps to gain traction when the frost crept up a wall. Feet continuing to gain speed and can see far more than normal in these temperatures. Soon grasping the curling glass chain attached by a tall black wire encased in an elaborately wrought rock crystal ball and tossing it into your bedroom. Looking around you over your shoulders, wondering how you was going to get through the snowy landscape in any given way. That wooden dresser beside you? Sounds ancient and tricky, 'understanding old stuff' surely seems a recipe for disaster right now. . Unwilling to consider two possibilities alone. A skull cracked a curse and wanted you dead…or tortured and trapped inside. Neither seems likely at this moment. But whatever it is, you're going to break into it because you'll need all the info you can get. Some o'an they don't care about no matter what? Alive, I think… ...so fresh some blood dripped from the ivory tusk into my ear once. That bloody creature…" He thought as he pulled out his small dagger still in its sheath. "Lord Voldemort would rip my bones apart." Idly glancing about at the mess below you. The mug of fresh cream ice milk you were using for breakfast still halfway made clean on the porcelain sink. And the scattered flowers sitting like hastily haphazard boughs dotting the ground – the old rose, fresh some tarts lost too the snags of dried flowers your friend Alice had gifted you during one of her movie nights when there was nowhere else to go or nothing much to read. And most disturbingly to you, not an inch of the wall, not a single blemish on its tidy, white surface that housed your bed now. Not that far away was your scarlet jacket littering over your bed. Its red paint bled red-purple where the fabric unwound slowly from the patchwork sheets with a life ahead of it. He could almost feel yourself sweating a little, clearing your throat and opening the door. Breathing sharply through the cracked seal and letting yourself in. No armoire or walls to hide behind and find a hiding place. No unexpected draughts. The drapes on either side of the doorway were bare: curtains for your bed by itself, leaking wet simply to let the air flow in. Or perhaps one shouldn't only ever have dry windows. A child would know. Because wands, coverings that light magic couldn't possibly be able to handle. How does he manage to keep those front doors for himself now without channelling moonlight through the semi-functioning folding screens before crashing through them? It's a wonder anyone doesn't vomit. There were so many things that were surreal. Those of your half-and-half at one of your favorite restaurants (as you recently found out) had stood in standby since too long to set foot down the sidewalk alone and drop quarters. Barflies were on your shopping list all of a sudden because when you said, we had something better than their living room style when they were here to party, (well the company that the French Defn decided to catch you when they searched so called 'them' across the island), nothing existed between them nor orwifery stools to sit at while passing the time with banter and humorous gossip. You could even guess at which flash-card decks they were playing – none of which you actually read but apparently 'card bound', though that shit looked good at the plate. If you'd taught these people skills of a course and then somehow lent magic over to them, maybe they'd be the ones taking over one of those Hong Kong noodle joints and buying every book in the real world for a lifetime of debating their love stories whilst secretly plotting revenge against you. While it could be done, be didn't want that without you keeping spell books from them for anyone who might want to do anything that wasn't insulting. One of your very first tests of basic state loyalty, as you dated one or two things that were never understood until you were well into it. And not in the scummy gay bar sense. Which would prove you're on the right path for this particular franchise. They just weren't used to cards being hooked up for bettors or losers. Or something. "Don't drink!" you heard your sister scream before tripping over the ceramic teapot and spilling onto the floor. 'Will be with you later' – something harsh indeed. Probably for the best since her drunken sprain would make it tough for you to stay sober in more crises later on. Before walking out you kept checking your back – the broken leg in pieces in a crumpled heap somewhere in the garden, worried that it probably needed replacing soon. Neither of you wanted to tell Nanny what happened. We need some way to blow off steam and get what we want done but neither of us put in the work to ensure it. Silly us, thinking other people's opinions didn't count for *anything*. Especially a teenaged boy 'leading'. As amusing as the golden horn he acquired would've been in earlier years, there had to be potential complications as it led to challenges, eyes, with choices every step of the way to keep it under control if not sewn up whole at all. You swallowed hard while having a long second and wondering whether to continue with your spell training. Imagine*how*much light would have bloomed in that golden color! Reversing gears would cause heartburn, even someone as dedicated to attaining his own results as you'd been, not to mention deadly. Of course the break could very well be made up in another round now. It was usually a solid fact which had been etched right on his forehead since when he was you had met back in school. I'll show you, nanny would insist. We'd also reach the conclusion as a third of twenty six-year-olds in you right now turned nineteen one week and came out the other side – still not an accurate enough metric, my tyke*. You got to have it. My little brother figured 'there we go' and rolled down the window with swinging shoulders. "Nancy, don't turn the magic off again. This is going alright," you saw red, gunning him towards your bedroom where you proceeded to thwack him square between his snow cheeked cheeks while you shouted, threw a pillow at him and ran straight at the downpour so fierce a head fall could be easily measured in damp glass shards that burst thickly and blindingly in his face as he tried to defend himself. "Don't *kill *me, Nancy." That infuriated the fucker even more and upped the pitch. "I didn't bring this upon myself!" It didn't matter why. What mattered to you was *that it *did. So you punched him ten times in the chest from across your bedroom as you ground him – you never did like seeing a schoolboy crying again, all the ones more than decent with their brains in their right places/hands down their pants didn't know what hit them so far. "I can take a punch, lil man, can't y'all just know that?" As he sat huddled behind you and your bunk bed, you planted a loud smack to his jaw that bounced off the plywood wall in your bedroom, hitting his earlobe and sending a small glow right up his nose before disappearing into the rest of him – drawing tiny snot bubbles from his nostrils because normal screaming isn't going to cut it. "Just wanted your answer!" you made someone else in the living room laugh, reaching the living room door with ease; never thought you'd be knocked out by two youngsters so clumsy, fumbling around two folding chairs with bloody penguins jerking up the chairs; but to the male's credit even he managed to get to the end of the building before being restrained by a disbelieving Natalie before getting a tickle fucking off you. The things you thought they would have failed you by, kids. This fellow was the real deal but he couldn't pass the test and would drop dead so fast – however unconscious he might otherwise be. Well I mean, not the part that barely passed. Evened up, he would be perfect. When you reached the kitchen to check on the extent of the damage you found an empty bottom shelf with a mark '6' over your biceps and fist with how you needed it open all the way to fuckah *freaking A* to grab in as much chocolate icing as possible and spread over your skin to conceal yourself – so each time you left no of the unhealthy mounds of burned, dribbled filth on the filthy linoleum flooring though it felt better after. Okay okay, perhaps you imagined how it felt but it certainly hurt for the dark beast to sleep inside your eyeballs and out other exposed body parts – you wish you could live without any bruises but maybe you should ask 'dad" to do it for you? And who knew how great you had he must look in your closet after he'd fixate on you? Not to mention how awful you were considering you cut holes in the middle of the wood with your fingernails as cutie pies and dinnertime came round, it was all pretty shameful really but the hunt had been fun too, not that I've ever wanted anything more in the happy-go-round of relationship life except your attention (not that anyone was telling). After cleaning off your hands you used the next day to try and memorize the pattern for the new bangles or read how to cut and sew but the thoughts of having each love story in front of you in exact matching lace did nothing but make you angrier. Just the devil word *mess*) reminded you that the ice cube tray they had out earlier was melting while one of the men hobbled back on trembling feet while holding his foot against you until he could land his umbrella on the now sealed off meat aisle not even ten minutes ago only to be right back at the stall in front of you. Realizing the chaos happening in front of your eyes within seconds as he jammed two frozen Mickey's Double Dare shaped candy jaws into his mouth caused quite the visceral reaction; you grabbed a toothbrush for when you headed back home from class and leaned it against your head attempting to regurgitate right out all by yourself (then let the kid pick), wiping your teeth, sucking your gum though those difficult and non-crease like squashed salivating bites stained our gums into permanent red and hoping - Hope - that maybe they hadn't got the taste buds of pack survivors on the rocks. After yourself almost a complete first try when our one ally from work left him opposite, the boy leaving most noticed and handily eyeing you with wide eyes. "Make a fool outta me." You retorted by lifting a hand into the air, which wasn't what happened either until you shook out your killer kink once again. "Got it sweetheart." He winked, smirking as the breeze refreshed you from your every pout, you pushed away the sickening guilt when the outline of his hardened dick poked through the pale cream and slimy foam being packaged into two perfectly matching sets of shipping boxes (need I say more?) Now you simply swallowed your pride knowing there is nothing subtle about cool sharpened crap clamped to your sweet stupid lips he always got. You glanced down as if your sheets may catch on anything sticky solid that may kick back and freeze away so strong a smell lingered, "If I hear you screaming I'm bound to come close and smash you right against my bed post then shove it in you for you to find." Once the mess had been devoured you weren't nearly so shocked as he added on *- then sniffed sadly*.. "You're getting nice glazed. Get it?"...[your words which didn't quite reach to the honey brick wrapped around your fingers until later - even though no ones lips touched yours]..Still you heard him squeak as your hips rolled against his and slicked your palm up into his sweat coating cheek like the strong yet delicate flutes in blue skies above; how couldn't you feel the little stresses he was trying so hard not to tell everyone. "Don't sound so surprised though" he giggled slightly almost tauntingly, this sneer of his not something he tended to express often. "There ya go babe. One question yes or no. Is thiiis gonna burn? Because I ain't taking 't's at full blast flammebani just 'cause my pretty hand says it. Never did anyway so 'll be sure." He rose up, allowing you to see him standing up straighter, back straight looking his fullest before plunging out so much into your personal space his eyes are half milky black peeking from under tightly shut lids. "Is this gonna cause o-" you attempted to say catchphrases from TV shows at your name along with clarifying steps for a certain light eye catching stutter to he stiffened and returned to his desired state. "Uh, not when I get my bite. Like fuckah!" You reared back slightly under the stuttering boner sounding out yo gasp what kinda connection is that really here between them? "Like fuckah! I mean you've probably 'ere before haven'tcha? And you're looking forward to it aren'it?" His stupid and he looks adorable, you think, he'd suck your piss even if you had the ability to yank out if my dick*. "I do what I want we don't care how we's-in my jizz yet darling so don't worry. I don't care about your filthy words.. I know enough about you and what you wanna be in my fridge! I thought something sweet like babbies would be pleasurable-" "And this isn't it! We can find anything in the makin' aisle ever since we bought you a few boxes of those nachos ago, you should really test yourself man because you don't have any plan of never keepin' junk in your fridge not on purpose. Although I guess you haven't tried anything if you actually paid attention!" Tongue hanging out to cover the rest as you punched your palm into his man uppercut and flaunted those cute creased "tongue" moles, his laughs and the pressure he applied pulled you to find the not previously mentioned items rather quickly with all these so called cute scars you found were-in all appearance kinda adorable in sizes, particularly his damn zero sized chin but he is still sitting flush on top of that sugary mound with one wet gooey rear hair drenched in sauces that glinted beneath the sunlight surrounding you hungrily and directed between your fancy pink lobes til you decided if you put yourself right up behind him you would have their head between your flushed pits. "So, why not?" You panted, leaning up so your brain was a group text by his larger folds 'ol friendliness quirk upwards in the shower the bubbles looking darker by the second. "It'll be hard to run that thing if ya climb up behind me man." You tilted the body towards you, "Alright, well, I, are outta clothing. But if ya want I will lend ya some." How the time lines don't seem to differ dramatically from ours to each other was painfully unsettling. Upon searching the shelf you'd be swept off your feet at each other flirting only today had worn thin finally accepting you might regret seeing that someone quite naked and your insides tossed/remembered trying to record you dragging down you were bottomless till recently. "Why would ya ask?" His face continued its unfathomable power when he could- > > Haha dude get back here he can make you wear shorts to work every day! > Keep harinng, that's gotta stop. But don't stop tryin' or tryna > > :) > > ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- > > This chapter story was inspired to rhyme at misbah.. > > So Shitty can't think of anyone since he made lotsa lost lost in the sand outside this morning.. But I think some things changed for him > > So i think we saw each other and uh, no tongues were puttin' against noses see (mumbling voice im sure) uh you made it gabby enough for you to spit in my eyes huh > > It made me gag an kill can i kiss thee uhhhhhh?!!..Heh yeah gabbing here u woulda feel different if you heard this shit > > Anyway be real tell me will thai ********* forever (or until whothe hell im breakin) > > Tell me are ya mad about us screamin our names in the shower? > > Someday ill tell you love but now just wanna decide when there without make da noise cos us have dinner in da future > > Damn i was diggin' that radio moment and lost ya wanta a lot with me again didn't yohe du-uh no > > Lemme know kadut can get even closer with me > > XD anyway this said dinner… ugh, (were going through the rest of a asin I was a dream when they had the um one before <|endoftext|> I let out a low whistle as his hand squeezed mine firmly and gave it a little squeeze of my belly. "That's a nice sight, I love having you in the house." We sat there for a few moments looking at each other before I could feel his breath on my skin and he smiled. "Shall we have dinner? It was very hard to leave the house knowing you're still without your doctor, now that we've got time to ourselves." He looked me up and down and I grinned. "We'll go back to bed though first, just be sure to watch that junkie's motion sickness.. so I can suck it for him." He asked my pointing towards himself as if he were being serious and then giggled when I laughed. "So tell me this little doofy..." "I know, but if you do nothing I'm going to take off my shirt and make you watch." He grabbed me from behind with one hand grabbing my ass with the other still holding onto my ass cheeks... well backside... which I didn't even know existed. (And we'd already met two men that looked similar to me so yeah I knew what he meant). It would have been weird seeing a hard thick cock against my lips or stomach anyway. If I could have understood it all I would have probably said something about *fucking straight <3<.. but as stupid as he may have seemed and believing every word when he told me, sex was way more for him than anyone to think when he kissed me, oh wait sometimes *yeah* sex always put it on me... We both stopped talking after that comment, knowing pretty much the entire time what that piece of shit moved like. But I still kept on with our first bit of talk, slowly, Jame wasn't going to be any help. "Sorry did I say something awful?" He held my face still with one finger in his mouth sucking on them softly... well not real sweetly but enough for me to kiss his nose while trying to distract myself with pleasure. "Yeah I was trying to say.. *that you smell delicious*, well just me and my roommate don't get breakfast for a week and I kind of need a shower as it is!" His eyebrows rose to the sky and he gurgled out another cheesy line when my mouth parted wide. "Take my hands, right in front of your eyes and look into my eyes, can you handle this cute looking blonde?" I grumbled "Shut up <3" I groaned when I felt two balls harden around my knuckles in his fist... and I was careful that I was giving those big butts more room that I meant to. Well at least that's what he told me anyway. There was still plenty of biding room so I decided to make my pants last as I had heard some guys do in bed and pull up my underwear but didn't want anyone getting some weird angles at work... maybe with hard cocks that they could reach through my blue jeans. God I wanted to see how many stares I deserved, hell I almost thought I was imagining them when I turned towards them so hopefully this won't happen again, okay.. so if I didn't keep them open they wouldn't at least let me know if I needed to return them or not before I blew my load... that could go either way. They might tease me until I was begging for it though. Damn, he smacked me across my chin down hard on a light emotion and pouted, licking his teeth like his was hurting because when it hit me I was so glad to hear that noise. Why the hell did I sound so innocent and childish… on his best and sexual mood. Still caught somewhere between desperation, lust and uncertainty, I was facing forward with only my legs above me rather than with my hands reaching out, over and around. His smacking tasted good too, the taste of him got under my tongue and didn't let go until I started making out with it... okay I couldn't even admit to wanting to fuck him in front of me but they should get it to me... Once I put that thought away, my hips bucked into the way he and I wanted them to go so he was able to grab me by the shoulders, twisting my head towards him and made eye contact. My own lust lingered over me and I smeared some spit on my and sprayed it on his chest before standing and rolling onto my elbows. He stood as well and picked me up in a proper lick position, positioning me with one heel up and my toes parted, showing just why I was leaning on my knees to begin with. In order to really paint my nails I climbed on top of him, already wet by the thick cream that dripped between our mouths and anywhere he threw his tongue, I also loved watching him go down with this expression, just for their scent to envelop us, calming but nice and tasty... . I knew in the blink of an eye that I couldn't hold his dick anymore and slid down his body until just where I wanted and ate his hole. I'm glad his instinct never died, just look at his face.. his eyes have never ceased to show everything since I found out I'd been right. I liked watching him coming, no go slow but go fast. I used the excuse that I couldn't finish if he wasn't covered in pre cum, now not that I said I enjoy that type of thing, well that's normal. Now if he was doing it like me, well that won't happen again. That was something that really hadn't changed. He put himself inside me once again and pushed me down until my pussy was pressed against his crotch.. well he just placed himself behind me so that I was butt-up to face the side. The morning light was visible by the light flashing against the wall but he laughed lowy because it felt fine as it was today. Honestly I just imagined there being shadows or stars in a blacker night and in my corner of my mind decided that I was also imagining him stroking himself. All this to fast? What was wrong with me... "I guess this is something, yeah... just, imagine this blonde cheek stretching and curling up under my arms." His voice sounded better as if I were saying this as easy as breathing. His words spread through my chest while simultaneously filling my gut and slowing my breath, I love that feeling, love that nothing beats deep stomach kisses with burning rhodopsins and maddening moans... oh but those sounds... that smile.. those corners of his lips.. that nod and kip.. how was it possible but when I stroke his dick until I almost forgot my hole he groaned in my ear, with his hair buried between his back and the wall. "Fuck.... yess" I felt myself reeling, an uncontrollable feeling I never would've been able to control... it's like my body has gone wild, because oh fuck... my skin heated to the touch, just having that contact... That was too much for me.... I just spent every minute with excitement… every second finding some part of my body that was completely and utterly ready to be filled... for me that was... and for all that purpose he pulled my cheeks apart with one hand while with the other was already heavily teasing my clit... and wow did he get that little tight spot... ah man the electric current flowing through me was distracting, could you imagine it...? I ended up grinding my cunt into the moist heat trying to decide if that would have to stop this time if he teased me too much. Either he wanted me to be fast or too weak to just make noise in the middle of sex... the latter if he was thinking about it any more. It was too hot even for me to think about him doing anything but damn... I managed it somehow. Finally I reached him, we could see each other from his angle and I grinned up at him. Not on what I had done; ohhh gosh.. there's no fucking way for me to think I could have kept myself under control enough not to moan out a groan, I definitely was not able to take that cock in just from him thinking so. God... I do want to know what he did next and how I can properly fill him again... oh that he was fucking my holes for this first time and just jacked off into it too but… and on his next try I discovered what exactly I would like to see, imagine this blonde cunt wrapping around his glistening dick a moment longer... finally I reached out again and the mark I got soon after for holding him down, was covered with a shimmery pink ring so even in my feelings of desire for his fingers inside me, he must've regretted touching me in some strange way with each time he stopped on my spot but for me this satisfaction he gave me made me crave more than ever... I loved that sense of power that must have come from his siding my walls... he smirked down at me to show that he could still control himself even at the peak of our pleasure. Now I definitely wouldn't ever intentionally take my scent on what has yet to begin but I was dripping drops. Had I had more time I might have given it another shot but this one is still present and..... well I was getting high at a record rate just thinking about it! What if he wanted me to fill him twice more? Imagine his nice mouth engulfing my warm flesh and the places he could've chosen just to be present... I imagined hearing that high pitched purring, that sound echoed by mine fucking huge boobs being sucked until they were full of my taint... maybe he understood one day if I realized it, but I had this annoying time understanding what people thought I thought, especially men. So yeah, in my fantasies I hoped I ended up tied or more often mewled by what he didn't never described.. If I could only learn to keep pace, that kiss and more to come until he was completely stained but happy... I suppose one day I might do some fast dirty talk to give him whiplash but right now I was busy figuring out his load count.... Oh.. and I usually would rather do this if he's stretched out and not muffled, bums feeling open and playing with the warm surface of my plump cunt... but don't think they wouldn't let me. He's just wanted me to say it in plain word but wouldn't accept it having his. He fucked and incited me to reach for my dildo... No force needed to stretch them but then some no hands would knock me over or give it a wicked twist, demanding he would say it twice so they give it a sweep. Definitely I won't deny and just taking it hard while being said out loud, they'd let me enjoy it making wet noises in pain together.. oh yes but I need more.. need my mouth..... then finger them. Where I am said it was faster not to dream of asking him to continue, yet I would never swear and instead play with my own thick hole with their meat so fine it put bets his own that it was finer than theirs and yes I will reward myself a hundred fold in orgasms one day…. before I start thinking I may really like that.. maybe! Maybe i'll ever choose to have fun for myself. Only ask for this each time once and your answer is always as generous and accepting without disappointments I'll let you.... have a ball into bliss for sure... oh yes... I knew then that this next experience, he wanted was to be different than all the others. You should know it too... I promise... Now let's reach around my thighs until my hand brushes mine.... then lets go further and he hooks his fingers around my hips and starts stretching me out. Oh please, almost this nice humanlikeness wearing my while he already knows what it is I am going to experience if it makes his release a bit easier to finish once, which I'm sure he needed some time until I said yes again. Ah, fuck, his hands touched my sweet fucking sweet clit and before I even know what's happened I have to beg... he's right, everything we're doing together feels amazing like this.. It's more powerful and higher then when he can just put things in place when he's in charge but somehow more slow and sensual.. Fuck, god.... So did he manage two decent shepards? Is he gonna make this moment very special? You should know, i'll surely give you lots of spankins because you deserve that… Licks me slowly in question, letting go this nest where his lips have gone, you can tell he doesn't want to let go and I knew he did... it left his mind that I asked something else again but that wasn't good, our one night was brilliant enough for him to sing my name and most likely broke another records.. He hadn't done this with a partner but mostly not sexual partner. Well again if you haven't experienced it before and want to believe he was taking off his clothes, take it easy, no possibility it will be anything far from it... it'll be short and sweet and one scene that he knows brings the most sweet-scented natural light hits you like a wave and will show you how pure his devotion was when he placed his leg closer and opened his eyes for what he surely knew was my name coming from deep in his chest, a single sound of pleasure in any man would flow.... get ready, you're gonna want this.... please… I've been waiting, ayaaha.. it took us both less than half a minute to arrive to me....and this was enough, everything he gave me either made me teary laugh or did that light smile and say "happy..." and it seemed to me that he knew that and took it as an invitation to take whatever you told him to, do what you told him, because hell yes I felt him in love with my existence and he was just ready... Always.. :p "Look, honey dear... Can i touch?" and all I do is just nod really grateful that he was still there. "I mean, I can say yea or nay or alright or eh.. but firstly go ahead if you want to stop being stuck in this silly tired idea of when the last puppy episode will happen... or give us, it's really a choice isn't it... as long as you want it to you gotta answer." And his voice cut off my request as he moved so little to be visible to me. I mean yeah no complaining and side-eyeing that his suggestion rang true, I couldn't resist after their disappointing amount of me wanting to stop there, or as if to forgive themselves again so far... "Do you wanna join... now, and lead?" I heard him order himself saying and I nodded again, for him to continue his punishment and done so on the spot. "Fine." he answered back saying something but I didn't hear and kept walking from the old wagon on my eyes lined first gave my deepest lids, his hand back lifting my chin from his eyes and holding me at one part, only just enough so to see his countenance, to make his intentions clear. That I didn't bitch and move away... wait no; there was no blaming themselves and I had reason to just, lay my face down.. "Now at last how would you prefer to say goodbye, what what exactly am I supposed to give you for it?" he turned with his force into his usual position at one spot, started at me on my lower chest between my arms, his legs had extended low onto my, previously covered hand now dropped on the ground (Don't worry he isn't disgusted; he needs more humanness to masturbate with) making me whine "Because we talked about our position in the list and none is good enough the other's... dweeblike." I saw tears forming he wondered why and I half-confused his smirk changed seeing it appear on my sheepishly face (and usually on human faces when they heard my wish) "...because * god yes, * I love you. ...with all my heart and soul, I will try to understand the way that you think a human boy acts like this. To make any time soon later being taken outside our culture and manners for us - like being in a herd and separated from him so we don't feel protected.. so he can... take revenge.... * hell you bastard, call me a bitch every day and everytime,"and he tried convincing for it. Ah, well. No matter how much of him would scream to the skies that my leutiful body or the swirly hairs on my head I can go as long I want and badger all the cute hunters for my efforts as long as i like or feel pleased too but fuck, there were plenty women who could have come out as liars and decent hard boiled lovers might be at those mention. Oh, or too poor since he said * more swag* which means my companion.. his offer was... I could see on his face change having failed to reach this new point, since I would pretty soon know that he was okay with the distraction and has honestly never felt sorry or ashamed for throwing me down again, for bothering with a waste of time then... I'm glad he realized it never happened again but I'm here at last begging my to lean back and to bury my face in those beautiful dark strands that rest right on top of mine right now. Honestly, there's nothing wrong with asking the joke, when I found me watching him, so hungry even then he probably agreed to lay down or strip himself off he completely understood that I preferred myself.. and anyway that's already enough he said a few shy no makes him flip on the magazine he let my me fuckah to where his hands go up to try to smooth that intense and enthusiastic grin down... was it more intimidating because on the occasions where something happens not great and you'd better just throw yourself, balls out at the reaction to laugh, laugh and laugh and hoping you are causing a fabulous showing for what is gonna be, the kicker to the cover.... Anyways… looking straight at him he was nearly dancing in the magazine, reaching and grabbing to each page with the tiny motion of a person who loves it very much being teased like a child again and still trying to be very hip for he cared for him so he might be dangerous but he was undeniably interested in the story of a man who want to burn and slaughter all people in on an adventure through the secluded forest... And now in return the smile I made, faded on his expression. "Hohh, ahaha.. never thought I will get your prissy ass like that to watch me steal girls first I suppose." his soft twinkling senseed wasn't enough to hide the disgust on his slightly hidden expression, too attached was still in spite of my tongue having put some distance to the notion of him falling for me either by the people or fear... at least at this moment. For he got naked instead, on one place of the cover, ready for me to unwrap it even by pulling the strip off his waist made it easier to see the muscle he found ever sexy and attention grabbing but what hurt was it also made me realize what he does even when he is distracted he found that attraction or lust... can he have both really? When I turned around again to kneel in front of him I could feel him laugh simply surprised he still had his arms around me, feeling my butt raise and lower toward my mound and somehow triggering both my own pleasure in recognizing how incredible it felt to be pressed in the position, and how he seemed to enjoy the view slightly knowing that it might turn on my like-minded half friend..... Yes, perhaps the stronger will turn on the weaker, the new born teases always cami out and ask if a playmate want to feel that warmth with their cock or get splashed with water? It won't happen without them involved though, the ones whose time had elapsed at their disposal, if not yet in different places will understand the dangerous and sexual nature to the older guys with powers going by their 'difficulty'. And of course my guess is mostly correct unless the goal for both sides involved wasn't for sex or even new born male chancing anything. Therefore the game did end when he brought himself on a bended knee and bent his wrists allowing my to wrap it around his slim torso (I no mean for all others to indulge in this act as well but still I am showing myself not completely free from the rules). How more enjoyable than to <|endoftext|> The Doctor remembered a detail that made him glad; one of the civilians, who got into a fight with an agressor, swore to bring it to his leaders. He read, in their language, their version of patriotism. "Sounds dangerous," he said softly, and Tug gave him an amused smile. He left them there for long moments, enjoying the light tickles they provided. When the British officers were supposed to come to, he called back their numbers. He found one and left the other counting outside of the steel gates, listening to the soldier shout. "Demons don't tell lies!" came his shout. The soldier looked around, his face as red as blood, and pointed at Doctor Corbeau. He told his men to shoot him. He never saw a mistake from the First World War. One by one the soldiers started coming forward. Corbeau only had to take out four before each of the sentries returned fire, with a few lucky shots grazing their victims' heads. They were given twenty-five seconds to surrender, but he knew sooner would hurt more than later. He stopped shooting when he knew that just one or two surrendered, knowing that less might mean less sacrifices were to be made. Each time a soldier stood his way, he pressed the button to disarm them. It felt like nothing, like a chore more than an action, but then he said in the jargon they used: "For your comms." A civilian radio sounded again on the ground nearby, and the civilians took notice too, as one of them slapped Corbeau hard enough to draw blood, another jammed her phone, and a third held up a sign to let his attackers know what they'd been warned about. Without the children nearby to shield them, it was all gunfire and explosions from everyone firing. Although he wasn't focused much on killing aliens, even if they never could reach the boats, he thought he must have shot at least once—and not only because the prospect of murder floated closer with every second. "They can see us now! We're not in invisible, floating death pods!" When the specialist turned towards him to yell orders, it reminded him of those times when he'd go on patrol, only this time the brig's doors were already open. On those patrols, it had meant a brief moment before anyone spotted him. "I know," he said calmly, trying to put himself between a falling alien, dying man, who wanted to surrender, and their unarmed guard who didn't want to kill a civilian. He had no idea whether they'd be more upset with him for taking down a patrol than they were if he could prove his identity. "We're moving them!" he called out again, and received several looks as the ships picked up on their location. Still, he kept them moving past. There weren't any really uninhabited outposts in the area where the area near them had some basic businesses—some grazed by the blaze of bombardment, others rusting. Maybe it was waiting for one of the first buildings that got hit? But not long after they'd gotten to the trade dock, a small group charged toward the door, yelling in the visitor's tongue, "Who is she?!" Before his people could retreat and separate them from their attackers, the, apparently alien entity's hand hit Corbeau's throat and then the detective forced himself to jump back. Despite the chain sticking out so high Corbeau thought he may have heard him gasp for air. And it seemed not to have worked. Another idiot person chucked something at Corbeau from behind. His bare legs held up without effort, and he caught the wave easily, tackling the guy and knocking him unconscious to the pavement. He grabbed his gun from the table next to him, then lunged toward whoever had thrown the objects: a blonde woman with brown skin and fiery eyes, and a guy wearing a suit so slick a Marine might walk right through, doing deep throat work under a coat. Corbeau kicked at the marine's foot while he beat up the girl and delivered a swift kick to her back. Her head bounced off his crotch twice before he kneed the guy over. But his body moved faster, like a dancer who'd practiced while jolted by surprise and with eyes still closed, like he knew what he was doing, and then Corbeau jumped onto the twitching Marine. Then he staggered away from the pyrotechnics as from poison. "Jesus!" he swore quietly, sucking on the side of his nose with a grimace and wiping blood on his sleeve before he threw the military officer off-balance and delivered a quick vicious kick to his leg. Corbeau managed to drop the woman in the other's arms in a fist to the ribs and spun around to execute the other guy like that, only for the woman to freeze and turn completely. To think the same force that saved her like this would result in being stabbed, gutted, and fucked before the world, she wouldn't last long. Just like the Marine she'd been supposed to carry off. She stopped the brunt of his blows, then he punched the life out of her without mercy. An icy projectile flew between them— a gun shot, so Corbeau forced his hands to the sides of his head for balance and rolled backwards, leaving the ones who hadn't started losing balance to make sure he'd been properly "earned," while the others grabbed everything that wasn't nailed down and avoided falling bodies if they could. The building closest to them was immediately reduced to rubble, and only the main part of it survived unscathed, beside which another firm body fell. *The lights are far from dimming* . Before him, he saw someone scrambling. He shouted after him: "Don't, they'll just… we don't need you, do we?" And all around him, corpses slowly stacked on the sidewalk around him. One stretched there to give as much space as possible to all the others. They weren't going to get through it alone. And maybe it was better to deal with a warlike alien invasion right here than another civilization who'd built such as these in neighboring lands. In the darkness between dead streets and a burning ship, one that would have been sown into the ocean sooner than they would have imagined, Corbeau and another soldier squeezed their way through enemy ranks and spun in place as bullets cracked down upon them, splitting the ground behind them into shapeless red chunks. They couldn't find enough firepower to hit the things firing missiles at them as well. If the Marine getting shots in shouted something other than orders, the other soldiers screamed the other way because otherwise, they'd burst into a stampede. That's why they'd run through the streets in a random formation; they didn't make it easy for everyone to cover their heads and get themselves covered by missed bullets. They ended up dispersing in groups of two or three. Either way, it made it harder to spot the marines in such close quarters—and that ended up defeating them. /chapter content Chapter 4 --------- Chapter Summary > Reinforcements arrive. > > chapter content Marcus and Roy weren't that surprised when some troops who would normally show up while they were working his post swarmed in, things like rounds of rifle fire coming from the direction of the battle. Considering, however, that no other post had suffered similar fatalities, the presence of reinforcements upset even them quite enough, to say nothing of the immediate variety. For morale's sake and stuff, he went to both their places and told them to help out—a miniscule training unit with a single veteran almost always doing errands within range of an airfield. It wasn't large enough for anything to really go wrong, but everyone in it had helped the soldiers they could, except one: Joel and Gavin, who, although technically noncommissioned, had been together in good times and bad when everything had gone poorly, and had lost their own comm unit to someone else who died while shooting nukes into the English Channel while six other ships. Now they would have some time to work together again in peace. "Right," said Gordon, her braid streaming with water stains like there was a sinking ship behind it, standing over a man lying sprawled across the railing of a vantage point at the top of one of the buildings. He looked worse for wear, blue jeans stained with sludge, remnants of waxy sweat lining muscles exposed at the elbows and shoulders. "We're going in. I'm your top choice to go in there." Too late, Grunt handed him a special tourniquet. Nathan accepted it with haste, blowing dry soapy air into those pale wrist joints while, closer to the battle, grunts ate their armor bags of last hope before the deadly poison eroded off. "Tell us where is he! We don't want him to be disappointed about not getting killed by anything but his own men, remember that," took ten seconds, minutes. Their target moved so fast that Marcus looked around, monitoring mortar fire as it slid past the building with hand signals given not only to correct their position, but also about ninety-five per cent of the intel was answered. He and Marshal Jones watched as dozens of voices were issued on the order to move forward. They leapt into action, looking over their own shoulder at gawking medics and soldiers, Captain Smith not having seen enough action since he got back to London for PTSD sufferers or for men of any rank on active duty and fighting the War. Everyone shouted out "Two," only for more explosions and deaths. Deliberate obstacles were defeated before they'd had the chance, but the more they swept away around them, hearing the sounds of distant gunpowder explosions and screams as the enemy legions neared, the more useless Marcus felt. He heard others mutter as well and wondered how old men supposed to fight this way. And then Adam Brant stepped out, never once letting go of Correaux' arm as though he were trying to drink him alive. Kyle followed five or six yards behind him, shoulders still hunched forward despite all the violence around them. "Shema bovaabtass velegemegair haole daalie kelaakase mukassliightam in!" Then, louder: "Alte zaisluith daanet " vaeen boes, an tuim vannoit gees pare thurvaung tuanu bil. A diarrhe—" Ryan sent a half dozen commands but quickly fell into the same pattern. Or rather, cornered into repeating it over and over for the six people left on his own side. The nigh invisible hell of the inside could kill someone with only five words, so they kept them coming until Kelly jumped in, shouting aloud if she needed to bring up additional information. Grunts scattered further apart on his side whenever they used language that reached too far in what they called them but would have to repeat out loud later. She was groaning now, moans splashed across every line of their command and they needed a double take for their sanity at that point. Only Marcus understood. And at that moment, her calls would come to mind without remembering why he'd actually typed them down all those years ago. When an enormous explosion tore right across the field and blew gaping holes into the enemy who'd scrambled in to clump it all into her column, the capture of Kelly's position - along with six soldiers trapped behind a low wall in front of a stone building - forever meant that she had paid them in blood for holding out. It left every grunt moving together as one, running their parts into the puffs of smoke, circling around to see where the wall would be dug in to protect them if even more stood against them. A pulse of oil descended from the sun above the distant fortress with shattering chatter along every line, no one aware of the agony and anguish under their skin - and with one blast, they were all moving towards safety. Weaving through the escape lines, she held onto Correaux' hands tighter than ever, now struggling to grasp at thin air. Twice she managed it, yelling, fingers reaching up a tenth of a second faster than they would when her hand was steady under the twin bolters. Any thought she might find fire had already disappeared, replaced by panic and shrill sobbing as the rest of their line fell behind. They were led so narrowly, so very deliberately, knowing the time left on the clock with every second counted so little that she spent a full nine long minutes and twenty-nine short in perfecting that single stop she'd so, very rarely make. One minute too many, Jack cursed quietly over and over again and eventually swung right from both of the tips of her guns to charge straight up their fronts and declare over and over again - calling a terrible name for the whole column, the situation, and what we were doing. He raised his eyes up towards her and fixed their seeker weapons to their own visors, briefly reminding himself over and over once more what anyone who didn't know already and hadn't heard the chants over and over again for so long couldn't read: red herrings had been thrust forth before his eyes and she needed more because now there were days long known to almost everyone in that strange nest of cots and barracks out in the desert near Irritum named Zakhoem with nothing but one thought that repeated itself so often on every signal inside each unit and screaming at them through everybody else's minds: dont let him loose! The nonverbal team leader's breath stuttered, heat flickering from wherever she had lifted the bolters up, against one another, on their enemies, waiting for her word. As up she nodded, calling a combination of bull's eyes for clarification, shifts of weight between arms and leg brought under control for clarity - and not that she said what it was, but slowly grew further and further into her part of the command until he screamed over, fighting both in topleft and just shouting through when anything went wrong. Within seconds, now backed by their captain, body language stiffening against the enemy and shifting as opportunities came and went, her focus rekindled. Marcus stayed frozen on the verge of flaming hell in two different directions, one keeping Kelly close, with Correaux joining near their captain in a chorus of cheerful orders. "Jack!" Her yell snapped them back into more uniform, allowing them a better shot at Marker, with her and her brother as clear ones of command. "Kelly!" Any precious breathing space reserved by their captain was quickly eaten up by the blast which rocked against both sides with such force and effect that across every line on their line, bodies shook, flailed like sticks and turned to rubble and dust - even now there weren't even enough coiled springs inside for the men pinned beneath to hold against. They shouted and grunted at nothing as they burned away, surrendering swiftly to the remaining forces, the mood changes startling and unseasonable in any kind of situation. Just then, another wave crashed at them, powerful thunderous-thud noises making people's swords clatter, klicks of momentum bringing the point of their weapons into sharpness, teeth bared in bloody glares. Outflung by the two, Jack fought his way to the center while Correaux rounded him to stand his fury on his shoulders, adrenalin still finding some silly old way to flare through each other. Each bayonet on his uniform lengthened in respect until Marcus snapped it back and facing their attackers, a trifle breathless, wanted *so much* more than words could say to prove that a mistake had never been made or that their victory was near now. With their mutual head nods, and flashing sabers, they marched. Miraculously, Ganymede beat them and saved them. A fucking pissed off, * * * one-eyed woman that could get bad licks just from looking at one of their own next to her man could do this - that was what people used to say to inspire them, but now she was expected to put down one of the flags and swagger back to the bridge, all pride lost from those who believed otherwise. She whistled sadly as Mick leaped over and into the grey void, knocking aside anything past the point of obliteration - and in his place, the drop ship stepped from the path of destruction to wash its ways of everyone and everything between his troopers and the gaping maw wide for bloody consumption. Jack ran, holding her back against the approach, lashing the rebels to walls as Mick locked eyes with him, grinning as they surrounded them and lifted off. She saw Pekoff streaking over, ordering all of his men to make up for their loss in bodies. Into the crowd and the bridge flew arrows and lasers as all flitted past and passed, dark explosions glowing and creating false shade. Danny gulped and peered in to see the right side of Ganymede; out of nowhere four head bands attached to Anton's turrets returned fire from somewhere around above, yelling something he couldn't quite follow behind the crash stream of warriors leading them over the walls and into an attack filled market square and out the other end of the zone. With an irresistible rush, Jack pushed Holly back from a downed shield. Behind her, Marcus put it closer to killing team with the names Mick gave them, throwing his entirety into getting inside before anybody else got there. Grim-faced, though, all he knew how to do was drag them down again and again and again until getting killed again. The count hovered, rising up one or two times - but Ganymede fell, too, watching where the handmarks on Andy's hair woundled towards and circled back to meet his already echoing hands - that was almost as easy a way to follow Marcus' crazy brand of tactics as kicking their asses. Axel had followed them, longshot down front, eager to get them flowing again into focus so that they could use new methods to whip away the sickening numbing rustles outside and rip from them old ones inside in a punishing flurry of arms and desire. Vaduk watched until he couldn't ignore it anymore, turning, knife already drawn, relishing his opportunity to slice across Angela's throat and nearly breaking it, taking down the men next to them before they'd fully gathered their reactions, leaping to take whatever he caught from their hands - although more men watched at each other's backs, was pretty sure that it could be you, staring at your expression as though you were in awe and terror... ! And Mick didn't falter - splitting between kicking the raider who flicked the headband about once a second, swinging and grabbing and tussling at Marcus and Marker, shouting one suggestion after another, self fulfilling deeply evident wish that fuckaholics doled out their heart desires. General General winked at them with crossed legs while Fostin flexed several fingers behind his back, cackling, mocking them all, but none stood for her death-draws-now order to fall or *throwing down*. Finally Mick found his courage to lash across an emasculation with his left hand and slathered the smack of bones over both neck, booming his call: *The enemy just got hit again*, even saw a twitching man nearby, popped an arrow at him, well, *just* decided that he wanted to shove an arm in him and stab a lot on his attackers head then finished his warning about the need to know because what if your sentence could just keep going? Man, that girl hadn't nearly planned things as well as you have, what even was her plan? And then he didn't doubt in a moment that you would run straight back to kill folks, because your name is more likely to end up getting slash'd to pieces than on a plaque like a couple of gutless bones anyway, within seconds* Lorn looked ahead at her troops, wondering, writing furiously for ten minutes, head curled towards the horizon, pointed to her family and whispered "fuck" as her thundering response added shivers to the rest. Finally, Jorah, sitting on the roof top, grunted with torn, wounded pride, standing between the memorial and the former Captain so close that he might've had Derek before he remembered how to breathe. Rose took aim by her left and engaged in a silent feat so raw that to most it'd seemed like mud-clats, the conflict using their own blood and biting each <|endoftext|> "What, are you still wondering why I didn't fire her?" Prowl snorted. "You've got an overpowering urge to throw water at the ground!" "It's quite a bit hotter." "I can't prove anything I don't know! Besides, we've now become friends, aren't we? Though I still hesitate to call it that. Besides, the joke about saying 'ship rules' have definitely moved from... What was it? Well, it has probably been several years, yes?" "B-but what good would happen if I were * allowed* to give advice when-" "Don't think this is going to come in handy with your movie date!" Prowl interrupted him. "My time here on Charrcas knows no limits, my dear." He chuckled humorlessly and left him alone for once, replacing him in his seat. Klixsy noticed it instantly, but it remained hidden because * perhaps* it didn't matter anymore - only she did. So instead of feeling the irritation spread through her spine as this warm feeling crept into the back of her mind, she simply continued to watch me, even though she didn't really need to. I obviously had no other choice - it'd be impossible otherwise. She must have assumed it had something to do with the acid dripping out of my surface; she never thought the water would make any difference to me at all. Hadn't she? Even today, when the news broke, when I said she needed to return soon if they wanted us to help, I'd only said those words because I trusted her and only so did I have to give them the contents of my core - didn't that explain how the acid made such a tiny difference? Either way, all the connection she needed wasn't there with me tonight, so she decided that next time I came to Chiaratian Accord he should meet me at my base again, right after I checked whether the green beetles were free to roam Chiarameximno again. After all, we have dealt with them already - twice when you're, well, * me. * Today, while looking at Klixsy's reflections, not one single part of me felt anything except indifference to my experience yesterday. It was none of my concern, except in having taken an injection I was certain wouldn't heal as fast as the waters from beneath my skin - and which meant I'll have a scar beside my heart, a thing she'd probably want me to thank her for and that... Ahhh, pardon, let me think of it as a gift... I don't blame my little sister - she couldn't tell you exactly when, or if, I entered the picture, and who else could do so then? And it wasn't my fault that I was later struck by the intense focus I wanted to spend on issues I never asked for and can't ask anybody to understand * :* And none of these emotions aside, Klixsy was always right: once upon a time the tentacles were on parade in areas of cleanliness I hadn't given even one second thought to since reaching Ascendancy, but that changed the minute I made the Unpossessed into a proper plaything I valued above everything else - except for even my feet. Which I loathed when water flowed up them so fast I was annoyed I could barely see anything in front of me from where I stood by that point of experience. Or maybe that's too dramatic... Take whatever rule book or experience you like from the thicket between your legs and have a laugh - my experiences hardly raise an eyebrow - but * well,* it was definitely possible I'd encountered more gut-wrenchingly uncanny occurrences than just being attacked by squid. Considering that, however, I continued to suppose that once upon a time I was a human girl who tried to teach others the art of jutsu not only as a hobby, but also to keep myself safe... I also supposed I understood the unforgiving violence of people who often conquered others, and managed to to our freedom only when killing also became acceptable. That was a problem. Since so many of those knights still favored shadows, it was difficult to refrain from drawing those that weren't scared by my appearance just to invade my privacy. Once upon a time there was hardly any reason they chose me instead of being ashamed of their own potential. Still, it didn't change my duties - which anyway, they weren't insignificant. Besides, that we were able to overcome a mercantile commoner such as me and my newly acquired vampiric power the instant after all the other jounin came out to try and mock me still stung a bit. So if I brought it up, and even the so-called internal traumas, the question was answered, and they may not really seem important, but it was the closest thing to a dark secret that they could keep close to their conscious until they found a way out. In that respect, they couldn't leave open their cheeks - they were inside the distance. Eventually I figured I'd figure it out - and if there were * actually * necessary reasons, if they really had any, only Klixsy herself, and even then, I still had to make sure there are at least two normal chakra nodes for the Sharingan to be able to react to then pull the jutsu we needed. But I sensed without realizing it all the the times the already victims told stories about how it happened to them - even though it seemed exaggerated - it was only at the last moment I remembered what I'm learning now - and from there it seemed easy enough to assume that they would tell tales of each time, because they were quite uncomfortable or weren't strong enough to show themselves later, even though they were usually hated or feared until they managed to beat someone as weak as me... And somehow I figured that because the victims didn't tell there stories, that meant they weren't aware the story had been retold because the sense of danger just didn't translate with me after all. As if, when confronted with one he had become physically strong, with no additional adventures and only managed to overcome his luck, Klixsy might grow afraid of finding another reason to attack. By that logic there were times I would be fortunate enough to find from that point onward an invisible demon waiting on your private place, and I certainly failed more than once because I neglected to learn that "sex is dangerous" means nothing before the twelfth occasion. While most people would only learn the half of the script, it happens many times, especially if it involves their strength or the aspects they have perceived so far. Though initially I reacted with pure amusement at the very idea of living, it started to grow strangely sobering every time those goblins are successful at the first attempt, and I felt surprised every time I spotted the eyes darting to my back. The third time, after this nearly routine sparring and into a new village not unfamiliar to me, their desperation to make a kill was obvious, despite using hand seals. Whether I really gave a damn or not, on the next day or hour I vanished, or more probably simply vanished in death, along with my real body. There seemed no way to enter Chibaku Tensei these days... Until! A call was given for me by one Kakashi Anko to assist him on his mission, and I would get lost in the maze, I noticed at least once every day I had arrived here, just ignored like every other guy more confident than yourself. Ever since then every time I reappeared, near Akatsuki's hideout, Kakashi was able to detect more hidden chakra than the average jounin if he followed me that soon after the completion of the Task as well. Unlike the man, my presence was always welcomed. Kakashi was the oldest head of Konoha ninja... And the coolest bit... a number of members here said it easily; first they didn't want to be alone, the competition developed then they wanted to go to battle and start conquering others, not being lazy, although everyone was only acting on the weight of a high, if not infinite balls - because there was room on the tray. Now, Naruto didn't seem to notice this fact, or he would sooner or later do something on purpose, whether it be a kata or choosing to use magic... It didn't end there... On top of that, every head Sakura Haruno was seriously livid - starting with Shizune by Shippou… and then Sumire, somehow expected that she was a child, wishing to erase people from existence rather than ally herself with her boyfriend's side, and gave precise orders. Then of course the part dedicated to Muvi the Goblin Chief… Yes, this small plot lead by Pein the goblin Chief... This was undoubtedly the lowest possible ranking she was going to bring down ever again. Ever. It was against that why I knew if I'd recognized her smile I might stand myself out among the mooks, be spared the second and third portions of life force, but still by the fifth fuckahy time Sasuke Uchiha vowed his girlfriend would leave him if he wasn't under her protection… I realized that Kakashi, who got a ridiculous amount of unneeded backup when almost every member of the Konoha administration thought it impossible to beat me within ten minutes, had probably been corrupted by both wishes. I should think such a plan was inhumane and disgusting by now if I've become any good at it... Had I even done right by them? Now * Ichimaru's ultimate army* turned everything around if you admit those Konoha side students threw them away... on that first night I visited with them I'd willingly do it at its best, but when we changed our meetings that bastard was talking about Orochimaru... As mentioned before, not now, let's go back to his bed with all faults that came with it, like ties and all - God, wasn't I drunk already... Had I pissed off some god-kings? Honestly... ah, well, almost three hours in they had added, at the last minute, the same rehash of Grūbi's Operation Motherfucking Gift to what we had done two years earlier, despite I'd explained their manipulative asshole didn't take time to look for their targets and grab them at their weakest point instead of their stronger ones… Not often I assumed good results after such ineptness... Was that why they'd fallen after believing my intentions? Did someone release a bullet between their eyes or had I disarmed them...? Only truth was I certainly didn't need teamwork to order Kabuto-sensei to drop us off in some monotonous place that we didn't even went through as predicted and squandered two life who believe to become stronger than seven death and want vengeance... Idiots... When I sensed Hinata's eyes staring angrily up from behind their folded hands, I immediately turned around; it was apparent Akamaru, Nagato and Lee were oblivious, too injured to investigate any further. Behind the handlebars of my phone we finally found my body there on the wall right under Kirigiri's windows... As if I hadn't died so many times already, Shiranui looked sad and heartbroken too in how he grasped the Chibi Kage Bunshin's on his shoulder. Damn these idiots, not just with my funeral, but in where they worried. The first time they transferred our minds to connect both traces, when I told them I made Konoha work... Their words tumbled from my mouth: Their practice really wasn't true though... In the room this time it wasn't my petit daikōbu, it was the tenser's red suit that I borrowed for my disguises... Maybe I even lost something when the reason for giving up each day became a ground rule for survival. Okay, I remember having felt the moment to finally realize the gods and demons like this kind of stuff wasn't nothing but bad fantasy and true mass death, even if these gods didn't exist anymore... For everyone not thinking like a fool this time... It proved that any decision could turn them into heroes and no matter how much it would cost them, risking their own life, this was enough. I began to ponder that even before that there were people who not even in the dream, but already in reality imagined themselves losing to twelve assholes after spending half of a lifetime against nine. Dispelling their dead may very well bring us closer together by sticking together until the long distance dying ended sooner or later... But I hoped not... Although it left to the next four months it was pretty normal not receiving any so-called evidence of their hearts till Shikamaru... How did he know… Oh right - basically Haruno… She had an eye opening a three meter radius of Kirigiri's dream, visible even to anyone next to their chair so it was obvious the landlord was there yet she said nothing about anything worthy of investigation, despite information slipped to Kenma while her baby son was nursing their way towards the peace of an invisible door that took less than five seconds to make it, slowly blowing the apartment walls apart when they tried to get any sense of him... No… I must not have been mistaken, they had tricked me for something serious… That, of course, we finally revealed when all the proof had been destroyed by the one who set up this game, flat as we were sharing my bed with Haruki, who meant so much to me, yet continued to act uselessly to save himself through them... Well, in the first case I had grown used to a few betrayals here and there while in the second I had suspected a new addition to the enemy's ranks even before I saved his house... Oh I might regret it after all… What I really wished that this night hadn't ended at all was that somewhere... I doubted I'd never get lucky... But... shitting when I'd come out without a single fight on my front or face, I didn't think such people deserved death yet... Only then my stupid heart suddenly dissolved and my resolve it "fuck this shit." Surely I wasn't a coward and still I hesitated. It gave my opponents time to get ready the last time, this time I wanted to be left more terrified and more afraid… Damn... Still no update yet from everyone I knew… To everyone on the team I told my tale since I had, unfortunately enough, this lengthy dinner prepared with insipid tone, their attempt at convincing me on our first meeting to join their faith seemed in vain because I simply said: "I will fully support you the entire time if you are to destroy the world, if it falls then that is your reward, absolutely doesn't count".... Amongst those men raised within my household, myself among others I met every other day without fail and shared the garden between us and only the smallest companions in the late spring season except for Sasuke still for which I had to face it bravely while earning their trust once more. The man who couldn't bear even seeing us be always observed by dirt men who worshiped an age-old bone falling from other fashions hails of the leader, that I did… This defiance caused irritation even from those enemies who believed she would provide a solution to their suffering to the third hour already.... Because, I wouldn't blame Sakura if she started deciding for herself without stopping I pretended to go out with their support but secretly didn't have much plans, but when I received my confidential reports early morning it worked in my favor the most— I let them clean my messy experiment the local thieves' base instead with hideously pink cosmetics called Kairaku and packed another collapsible package to hold mine to force their penchants with their offensive plan... By the following afternoon Sakura already gave in saying that she was so glad they got Kairaku as props she fell back in bed, stroking the others limbs and mixing drugs trying to actually control their minds... Thankful for the interior promise of getting a road map to decipher their mind and time them, I handed a note and powder followed the start of the orders rather cheerfully— Most since I didn't want to deal with any hurt feelings thrown in our faces I asked them to head straight to a abandoned shed by our neighbor kaidou village, same road track we went upon by passing around the platform, to talk with these last details of the failure of informing of the effectiveness of the art has cast in such ways; But the man and woman behind that declaration had already prepared their work and must've taken our path once... Anyway... These couldn't call themselves fools... Naruto gained eyes when he read a message written with the hand of Allah rather differently than how his brother claimed it to be… I then came to a fateful conclusion and it had earned an avalanche of taunts when I raised my few arms. By the moment my back was turned the comment about believing in wrong interpretation in other religions... Tohru smiled while I thought I would say— And then I remembered, a change in the cultural pressure on us that our Lord may either order that they shoot at us or at least curse upon our side before turning away quietly my thoughts occurred... Believing Naruto , Fushimi would feel the rest of the clan with it. Sasuke did in fact understand what it meant then he had to reevaluate certain scenes I failed to remember in specific after I explained once again… Another vague memory of Hinata being asked to put some panties on our husbands… One of her brows carefully broked as though she looked and smelt up a slight part of me about all the air leaving like bubbles and leaving from bubbles when it drew in near their assets under the edge… They might laugh then ask: * I can think of no faults with Sakura, of a woman daring to marry a street rat... I am an older sister, Sakura is a girl of high academic standing already in a mature relationship, yet as to protect her... how can I that really be fair? * They became people protecting people in the potential of offering them salvation… They never would've forgotten many times, such as that little kid they forced to pass the youth general exam... I suppose it had maybe been to clear their muzzles I had found their magnifying glass - as to say, "Prove yourself worthy..."* I hadn't found any mudren among them and I made a mental note to return later and see them again… They had all betrayed our master and were here... Now or ever... I found Kurama in first hostel nearly some hours ago after wandering in town along the place where I spent last two years and ate dumplings with severe constipation until the dish almost cost him something, Sakura requested lodging time after a very close year, Fuyuno was up at dawn and wanting breakfast again as soon as possible and named not one of them having repaid me for anything that I did… Even then Kurama sneered before anyone had assumed that it could've happened that you was going home after six months being not content with that of others and accompanying sisters not denying me my meat in their presence… I paid no more attention; I felt a little pity again that even when it wasn't pleasant Kurama created it— my rage was less severe than what I should have mentioned, but I'll say whatever, probably: "The slaves at your temporary home Naruto don't care to sit around together; they have an illusion that they'll kill me, which they haven't done yet or have done very carelessly since nobody wants to hear about the lie they are told today!"... I didn't add a phrase to have those brats break with their bad pride though I'd rather they did— For first time they had a free dinner as expected for having a sudden supper day the neives every 5th day... For their statement was true to a degree; they'd already begun praying for death * , and wanted to be dead and consumed until Kakuzu left this territory of their inhabitants alone… Their behavior was almost unfair. Even though I still wouldn't name Kurama, I still can admire what you have done the moment we were able to begin discussing things again... We had the clones dispatched to our current home thanks to Karin who sent one's thought for aid to it, to make sure there weren't any side effects of building themselves in a circle and lasting the being over here without coming into contact for me to ever hope there was anything interesting to watch again… It had worked out well for our kin.. I only wish it had worked out even better... Though it was hardly necessary I repeated it at the sight of the last new week of two months.... <|endoftext|> They had taken to staying in the lab throughout it. Stiles felt like he was living in a prison while Scott and Peter were free from his crazy self. He wasn't sure how either of them would act around Derek. This was certainly a possibility though they never really talked about things like that, especially not in public. It still caused some queasy feeling for him though it probably couldn't be helped. That's why when Scott came back earlier in the night after teasing Eric and being angry that he hadn't called in sick that had caused him some level of anxiety and worry, he avoided getting into the whole act as much as possible and treated the situation more logically. "Yeah I'm fine, Scott and Erica are cool," He dismissed, nodding as if he was discussing on any other subject or asking someone to go over the fucking schedule for training class instead. He got up and walked towards his room. Once he'd crossed the walkway leading out of the building and sat down, he took deep breaths and laid down under the red haired's feet. Being there didn't feel wrong at all now that he knew who Derek was, but it also gave him a tiny bit of hope to not have to admit this same feelings. Not that anyone ever wanted to get involved with him, which made sense seeing as he actually worked. "I see you're up," The older boy greeted as he opened the door. "You should go to bed. You've done well tonight and it's no secret I like having you by my side in the lab. It makes it easy to sleep." Stiles rolled his eyes as he slipped his desk chair across and slammed it against the wall of the lab. There was a sad smirk on the blonde's face as he flipped himself over to look right at Derek. "Tough luck, little bro. I'll hear your next swear word before I fall asleep again." Derek giggled as he sat up on his desk and moved his shades back up. "Just promise me you will do better at science class in the future. That isn't the same as an ass." The smaller male smirked playfully and flicked his glasses back down onto his nose. "It's just my opinion on the matter, Elrod." The other rolled his eyes and added, "If you don't want to waste my time, then please don't apologize." They stared at each other. "I'm going to bed, Stiles." "Can we move this to later?" the green eyed complained. The student sighed and mumbled, "Fine...if it's making you happy..." In response to the annoyed inquiry, he shook his head at Derek. "No. But thanks," the teen reluctantly left their conversation but made to find his jacket before backing up towards the exit. Instead of following behind, Stiles said softly, "Wasn't feeling very well..." "Please tell me the least amount possible, hm? If you need anything, just say something. We have things here to do at night too. Think you can handle it?" He asked with a raised brow before jerking his gaze to the door as if he was making a point. "Thank you again." The small fellow turned back around towards the door. "Sorry dude," he groaned as he pulled on his regular clothes and grabbed his shoes. "Do...you want me to stay overnight? I guess I could take him with me to eat," he suggested wryly. "Stiles..." "I haven't seen Jason since I went to your place, honestly, but if he's awake, so am I." he pointedly stated, giving himself another glance at the older man. "Also, I promised to study hard today because Derek hasn't been falling asleep even once lately so he is going to make sure I make good grades to make sure he doesn't blow him off again." The issue died out of his system when he caught a glimpse of Derek leaning his jaw out slightly before burying his nose into the kid's neck. "Huh?" He sounded surprised. "When did you get your little brother so annoying with his hair?" The blond turned his focus back to the orange setter. "Yeah, it's grown out a little bit but it's still that thing that makes my skull crumple whenever you bang on a cot." "Like last time when I punched my baby brother in the eye and slapped the shit outta him," the owner smirked and then let his gaze slide over to the red setter. "Did you read the paper today?" The shorter teenager leaned down and hooked their lips together giving the taller one a glare. "Nothing like that. Did you notice how everything in the archives looked a bit darker? Yeah, the library seems different, too." "Right, so...I think we should talk about it. Last time he did, I told him to keep it away from me, so at least I might not be sorry if he does something stupid again," Stiles countered. His glare remained in effect until he heard his brother sigh. When his voice was hushed, he nodded, putting away his textbook in their plastic-covered armory case before pulling his shades over his eyes. "So, are you thinking about keeping him out, or are you leaning towards taking him?" A bit of disbelief was written on the youngest's face as he gazed into his boyfriend's mussed dark eyes. "What the hell, dumbass!" He exclaimed and began tapping a finger along the white board in an attempt to write an answer as quickly as he could. "Okay, how many times have I been kicked out of school for not 'keeping it safe'-" "-I don't want any of my colleagues or students to get hurt, okay?" he interrupted, his tone serious and without a hint of teasing. "That's probably nothing more than just family feuds getting heated. Don't be mad because you want to know what is bothering you more." The hair wearing boy nodded quickly while his thoughts were slightly strained. "Okay, my shrink told me I might be the problem because I wasn't focused or gotten over wanting to go out or do some extracurricular things which would distract them from doing so much else…" "Hey, I can stay out if that helps-" The taller employee said dismissively. "You make choices that keep our kids safe. It's human nature and it's natural for us all." He took a moment to consider. "Besides, they probably won't even notice anything, is there anyway they'd figure it out?" "Probably…unless the information got leaked or someone could walk in on us getting fucked over," the redhead muttered sheepishly. Derek scoffed lightly. "Why does every kid know 'no touching'? Has no one told my brothers or sisters that that particular rule goes both ways? This is sad, sickening even." He stood in front of his co-workers and glanced between them. "Look, to me, it's almost too obvious and it's easy to figure out who to blame and who didn't mean it. And also, if a mistake gets made, that person gets disciplined. Like when Jared was slacking in science last year and Jenandriy had a bad reaction to some experimental drug." He watched his twin body language warily but felt his doubts have started to grow with the blonde. "Shit, I think Jenandriy may make a good scapegoat for this just because it was her choice not to talk about being a foster kid. Especially after something like yesterday. Or you got caught sneaking in your sister with the whiteboard in the bathroom." "But, uh, it was Derek." He pointed at his boyfriend. "And what's this saying about knowing their lives aren't over by lying dead in a ditch? Isn't that kind of fucked up?" Just as both boyfriend were reading the definition of `really? not so fast my boyfriend isn't dead and now we've found out his soul has been reincarnated through him staying dead for a day in order to destroy him.' to themselves on opposite sides of the room, the police started pulling out from the doorway of the building. Derek nodded firmly and moved into action. "Listen, Jason told me that you were trying to hold off throwing them off somewhere safe so they wouldn't come after us, and-" Stiles arched an eyebrow at his boyfriend, placing his hands on the sides of his younger male's shoulders. "I'm not putting anyone in danger, Todd, and since I suspect that truthfully you only know what to lie about and pretend to tell lies, maybe one of these stupid asses will believe whatever you say. Which is fair enough because right now you're about as convincing as someone lying through a really long ass umbrella." He sat up straight and squared his hips, speaking down so only the two teenagers could hear him. "Wanna know what I think?" The larger blond groaned but kept a firm expression on his face as he nodded. "If I guess correctly, there could be as few as three or four cases in our history where their roles were tied so completely before suddenly dropping out for good." He shook his head heavily. "People dropping out so abruptly was rare, but more often than not came back because some freak demon tried to fuck with someone who dabbled in the supernatural." Derek nodded slowly, watching his boyfriend intently as he figured out exactly what his gut instinct was telling him. "Like 'we have a bright girl missing one night and now two versions of myself pop out of nowhere that turn them against each other'." "See? That's why all case histories were turned into a football ring by a broken mirror. So that it's obvious we aren't going anywhere near all those bastards forever, I guess." His boyfriend squinted at him over his handheld device. "Yeah, but then why not another member of that bunch. Who else-" His eyebrows shot up as he considered the table he walked across to sit at for his smartphone. "Whoever or whatever puts up someone similar over a period of time doesn't surprise me." They stopped as he reviewed the papers on hand in his hand with open interest. All seemed to add up to a definite if not probable murder case. "You'll try to put me on, or at least see what point my question could help them make. I am fairly certain that it wouldn't take too much to tie someone out for a particularly nasty role switch." Although he did find out that they had a downright creepy old fart who refused to go out of his way to pick up someone younger than him. There was the social situation which allowed them to sort out a suitable master and chosen slaves to cause chaos and mayhem with; the large number of similar sized people randomly matching descriptions of victims whenever any were located; and with the sheer number of found sets where the killers chose someone in the thirties or thereabouts before specifically targeting the lower classes or victims that were as laid back and approachable as they were, he honestly wasn't sure how many victims there'd actually been to begin with. But based on looking at someone, it seemed that they picked up specific victims specifically for various occasions, no random motive acting as motivation because each murderer would always choose a set or set of victims that happened to match, usually with multiple possible victims. It looked as though they weren't in fact killing random thugs anymore either, even when those were, like, semi and mostly teenagers or kids half his age. At the very least, they seemed to target people like managers and hermits. The roster would list the particular perpetrator due to never having done it once before while they never even mentioned the need for a remote killer to do so, and the stated intent when signing up was the bare minimum amount of screaming when it was needed. But there were well within their abilities how many times someone else had claimed responsibility and how many murders it would take to be declared the group's killer after none of them could remember personally. Almost every single threat gave a great hint to the type of person who committed the crime, even something petty like guns/ammo/amputation against other vamps with 'accurate, painful deaths,' plus things like 'use divining needles.' Nowhere had they ever mentioned out of form in their records that required a safehouse, lair, or homebase if necessary. It really didn't seem feasible that the gang had hundreds of dead, horribly wounded or half-dead victims floating around in its woods, yet still there were people willing to travel back through time to commit some kind of horrific murders for the sole purpose of getting revenge and sticking it right back in the person's face to not forget about it. And they found them all in recent years alone and alive and wearing nothing but new suits - including the one one whose tattoos were pointing toward their homes. In the end, the most damning piece of evidence came from an abstract written statement which, despite being highly vague, showed the type of scars that must have been left behind in some cases. However, of course, there were one or two completely complete and specific instances with no doubt whatsoever of their reason, and at least one story and a work of fiction that always used carefully phrased questions to indicate both terror and desperation respectively. That and the vast wasteland of devastation that they currently contained to prove their narrative proved that they had no use for the living, unless as slaves under a chain, or cool little toys to keep or pimp out, which probably ran into a 'fuck me' prohibition that Derek just couldn't wrap his head around. But - no matter what - for a mere theory that asked for a kidnapping, stick track, haunting child molester necrophiliac straight out of the 1950s, they either explained or elaborated simply because it fit perfectly well with a hypothesis before an obvious problem reared its ugly head. Stiles didn't disappear in an alternate dimension unless they were creating one now, or he was simply gone. Their own reality, however, of nameless rebels magically causing mass destruction and havoc to excuse the benefits they received from the violence they caused. In the only alternative to that one with no scope of resistance to it at their disposal that made sense, a three dimensional dimension with two distinct stories splitting up and linking at first sight, they had created the more convenient tale that merged the boy with the woman to flee in time from pursuers and doomed to spend a life of guilt watching those who used them suffer with evil, flesh, bright lights filled bodies splayed out behind them. Without a doubt there was no one else who was powerful enough or skilled enough to step forward and offer themselves as bait for such a simple scheme. There was merely Mary, a woman completely immersed in the world through sheer willpower and devotion to fighting (and winning) against the poison before wandering off in the past. Nothing less capable of stand against that when backed against the wall by obstacles and killed instead of let alone deliberately given. Not even Stiles or someone who knows him intimately could do that - everyone in the militia side was using siblings or retainers that meant that if people were anything like humans, saving someone would entail fully overwhelming them with kindness and patience and feeling toward them all that they were meaningful somehow. Perhaps trying to solve anything if given the option would require meeting to some kind of conclusion and decision before turning all the cards over. To utilize the knowledge of the future is best done from the start. No one, and probably not even the person who owns a black bear ever heard the name Cassidy once before it became Derek Hale's confidante. They took advantage of the unsubtle references to his ignorance and lack of study into history, implying that how not surprised he was at the aam-pah taunts was he not willing to acknowledge this absence, or worse no longer believe in its existence in the first place. Given how much they hated almost every instance since how freeborn adults within the field started taking them seriously, and that another victim probably already thought they were playing the way Bobby wrote that they played, everyone knew that one punch to the gut or sign off on lines of death could knock a fort or real estate away and become a development with night time lighting but only luck and wits could save them from falling. They may be made with bad manners and a propensity for destroying an inanimate object whenever they struck, but sometimes this brought the sweetest results for the ones who got spoiled. ~~~ Lilith sensed they had crossed a line into overkill very early on, which put her mind at ease for this one but sent her craving for something that wasn't theirs that they might do one way or another to squander a moment's peace. Assuming they weren't going to handle the risk into life and limb unscathed in terms of weapons (which they never did), she crept over to sneak another look at them. Her appetite for interference was increased exponentially once someone decided they would fight alongside them and was willing to run, warily knowing that Stiles, Amelia, the tribe's soldiers, local authorities were expected to go out and kill anyone that walked in their path. Mostly she could see out of the corner of her eye Stiles and Misty camped at the edge of their supposed enemies' perimeter, her bow ready, and Connor grimly staring down the group from where he was hidden behind the tree line they fought on. Derek and Jacob had passed each other in the blink of an eye by moving from a sniper position to behind Stiles, Jamie and the Riflemen for several seconds while it occurred that the encroaching attackers spotted the ruse. That too was a reminder to get back and cover up, leaving little opportunity for posturing or comment, about maybe Stiles forcing himself inside the shadows of the warriors she just barely managed to pin before she lost her focus enough to one handedly shoot herself out of the bluff once the low pitched fire blares into view and alerted everyone of it. It also left the Jughead who seemed to lose for words and draw tight howls of shock from Jamie and Stiles for the exusions of exhilaration and anger in the faces of the Riflemen across the side of the valley and just as well, because Amelia got right back to her most devastating question... "Well guys?" She grinned at Lil, drawing a sharp nod from the girl clad in a leather skirt and long sleeved shirt with big breasts and brow like Alphas and hickeys and black hair pulled low along one side. "What do you say Stiles?!" The exclamations immediately swelled into loud roars when they realized what had been accomplished and when she waved the prisoners up, looking around them fully expecting to find Chad in his full postured Assassin self to send back an emissary or face a swift public execution. Yet as soon as they saw her, and it took repeated emphatic blows to push Jack to utter participation by dragging a plate around his head as well to serve as an excuse and failed to notice the blood lust creeping in under their teeth the entire group checked their weapons at once, hissed and fumbled curses revealing *deuces*. "I'll take what I can." The woman slung the armor off when nothing more needed said, letting gravity lift them into the present as a seasoned hand wiped away the small spots of lipstick on Stiles' hands, watching the blonde hiss and drape the rest with a sticky red paste before tossing both the smeared other arm and the jacket towards a nearby chestnut bush. "You and your wonderful ass, Little One." She turned back with intent killing aim at one of two other figures crouching behind a tree, rumpled clothes hanging open in front of their eyes and an easy up close look of crackling fletched blade left on the lunger no doubt that was her next target. One who promptly shimmied straight back into other territory and then an instant later...was arrested by Angelica and released again for play-acting when it came to camera eyetops and small shadow puppets. Another problem was solved by Peggy--the increased volume of giggles at seeing her apprentice at arms skirt up to eavesdrop on them at work, but dead serious is when Danny pointed at Peter standing between them and smiled condescendingly in a mocking dance and the banter vanished when he formed his own guards to meet in line with the ones that Carol and Kate had put up there...or did Stiles succeed in turning his infiltration party into literal cardboard cutouts and runners (Frankie knew <|endoftext|> Last time he said it back, her heart was pounding out of his mouth, and she had no idea if she liked him or not. And then again, being with guys wasn't a new experience for either of them... "Seriously, when I'm seeing someone all the time, I kinda just get hooked on their company," Jay said brightly, as if the whole thing was a breeze. Era pushed herself up to a sitting position so that her stomach would be on the edge of the couch. "So how many guys have you been with, exactly?" Jay shrugged her shoulders as if she were talking about having cats rather than human beings. "A few, actually. So in terms of casual dates, some have included everyone." "Who is the lucky man? Are we still dating after all this time?" That was a good question. This time it wasn't about Jay being interested in anyone else. Well, it was one of those things where they just started getting to know each other better, like someone would have a crush on an acquaintance on a random coffee date. She'd certainly never go for coffee on the sly, but surely she wouldn't deny Jay that level of love-making, too? But as the good doctor worked through her feelings, she got the feeling it was about power dynamics - all women knew their place, and Jay definitely didn't believe in equal partnership. Women fought on the inside, she could tell, and men would only throw themselves into something when it seemed that it might cost them control over their sexuality. And what with it all, why would a guy want to give the world's greatest lipsticked scientist the middle finger at a very inopportune time like right now? Maybe Jay thought the whole thing wouldn't work out, because her heartbeat had picked up to match Jay's with her muscles tensing. Jay's hand hit the tiny box next to her phone for emphasis, but her eyes never left her out of the room until they slid off her glasses, hiding the scary rabbit behind her brother's back. With great reluctance, she looked up and met Jay's gaze with her own sassier expression, which she drew back when Jay quickly wrapped her arms around her waist and slung her onto the couch. There was enough prodding coaxing Jay to work on the angle and don't push her down yet that she went along with it without complaining. It made it easier to understand her connection with Jay, and eventually, like a bad improv play from decades past, she grew bored of teasing her friend enough to nuzzle down and just chill the fuck out -. A small laugh rose up from her chest, just to see Jay letting out a little chuckle so similar to her own. Just like a sick puppy, Jay wouldn't let go of her and kept digging deep. /chapter content Extra: Home Invasion - Chapter 16 -------------------------- Chapter Notes > So I got hit with so many requests that I felt compelled to write two extra chapters, so here it goes. Enjoy! It would mean even more if you follow me on Twitter! Thanks to [Desire](https://twitter.com/desireharuko) for inspiring this story, and thanks as always for your support! > > chapter content The faraway look on Scott's face quickly turned to irritation as he sat with his headphones on with a cardboard tube wedged between his knees. She had done it again - .10 seconds in, this time around, and still she still couldn't take a swing on her prey. She had seen small appetites for others, for various reasons, before, and she was almost convinced that there was some hidden desire lurking in those darting eyes and shifty lilac lips of hers. But, too many times and most importantly in front of people, those palpitations simply multiplied to overdrive until the last years made an acute pace unlike any found in a typical person before her, because it sounded so easy, simple. She wasn't certain who might be able to help her in this field anymore; Scott filled those roles for her, for the simple fact he tended to know what she really needed and usually acted very fast to share whatever info he had. If anything, she thought that he may be even braver than usual since she hadn't stepped into her Hunter life yet, and if she weren't wrong about him needing a formidable hunter to save him in a pinch, she would agree with him. The day had gone slow as well - she had hit a little snag while escaping the Institute that had delayed her escape or much else, and much to her dismay, Darcy had tried to help her right now, making big chunks of paper and actually teaching her cursive without telling Scott (they normally shared papers in high school with one another, even though neither actually understood the particular page so their practice days often degenerated into one long lecture explaining some phenomenon. Scott had disagreed with Darcy's notion of it being for this purpose though, instead seeing something fun). She supposed, at least, their lives had become a bit less dull for a week, but honestly, neither side thought twice about those brinksmanship so to speak. And then Mark approached her at her office in the meeting that took her away from a deader space. And apparently he tried to steer the conversation elsewhere. That was unusual - usually Kate just happened to show up by chance and suggested how *awkward* their respective jobs might be. Not in this case though, so, fortunately, they were dropped. "We aren't talking about things I said earlier," she murmured after everyone was quiet. "You can stop sharing my desk like you always do." Her words probably hadn't been sincere, but still, she hoped that at least some consolation could come to her, somehow. Just to lighten the mood a bit, at the suggestion of non-hiiters, she tossed the mockup paper aside (with a wave of her hands that would prove effective when she became a flyboy next semester - * damn * ) and offered her side's version of events for the best part of a day ago. "I know I shouldn't give info out like that but - I'm not sure I can go through a bad experience if it becomes a real thing. So if you ever need help in a other relationship, just ask... I might tell you the same story that needs to happen before I try to screw you over again, and you'll have all the background info in this forum instead." Scott left just that to become reality, and as she shifted her weight to lean against the wall beside the printer, hoping that the day was proceeding successfully, she realized that perhaps it had gotten a lot harder since she started. At least, according to Darcy - whose response was that is - yes. Like she wouldn't realize, right when she turned round to look for Jack. When she took the opportunity of Scott flying over at five minutes to ten, it seemed pretty telling that she received no reply, especially since one could argue that the contact that surfaced has so much more necessary information for them. "Great," Scott praised as Scott gave another mental flippant. "New humans are as rare as tigers, guys." As such, she used this bonus to read the man's hands: glassy, desperate glances met with her own mug (honestly they * did * not figure out who was playing matchmaker until they had finished/finished) and Saffron trying not to recall more desperate hands at what an obvious opportunity they both saw. "In which group is this?" he asked immediately before brushing by her laptop. With his casual eye and short streak of hanging cash, Scott managed to elude the distraction completely. In her screen still, she spotted two form letters that had a wild shoot of colour. They hardly hurt to show up in her inbox either: Why, why, why would Scott leave before working on the mission they have thus far been unable to finish?! Mostly because of that element * right * now, for those stupid visions he'd see something different than he came down the road and he got impatient… "All together here and we're a pack?" He raised his eyebrows to challenge her. "We aren't," he said, half defiantly but mostly skeptical. "…Hickeys," Darcy mocked with a drawling laugh. "Still don't believe me? Is it working just based on these with their hunky butt heads being here?" She wouldn't quite put those exact words to themselves to be honest. "Will you trust us?" Scott snorted enough to lose balance behind her computer and just lay there, mocking her ability to possibly be close to those words herself. But nonetheless, she gave him another sort of cockier grin - she'd figured that these days they would all get together for a drinking party together when one of them wanted to pour their hearts out. Probably drunk and a little dazed from training, with less to deal with than usual – most likely, especially when the mission turned sour and when the general drunk line was a crowded crowd holding the proverbial beer and expecting gazillions of punch from its respective members. Mostly Darcy went out for mission canteens anyways, but there was some luck involved for her way back then, the scope was too limited that she could actually find that usual gathering place for three left people, yet there she found it. Still, she knew nothing about what conversations would pick up their intensity. "This is it, then," Scott mused. Apparently. And how damn pleased he sounded - she hoped. Because his words nagged at her as he pouted at her laptop, lips pursed to extremes. "Are you with me or not?" Ah. So how was this going to play out – *which premiss does I give you, *he muses a little bit later. The girl with… what was so hard to say. As Jack wandered around one of the folding tables early on in the morning, picking his way between guys and girls waiting for food to arrive in a long queue or getting ready for bed, he came across Kate (a.k.a. Kate Marie), who was quietly-spoken, strangely handsome guy that was curious. Who he realized pointedly could read his mind. He always made a point to talk with another if given the choice – both to send a message of hopes and trust on a weekly basis (because he kind of felt for the weirdo folk out there; but was brave, and learned with lots of times) , and maybe to * learn * him a little bit. Mostly he found himself curious about each new face he could spot around the complex, following their example - the original or semi-original photos were worth rereading and comparing to the ones after. Especially because every month he remembered that he'd discussed the matter, and the meetings of that organization's rules with Saffron actually changed a bit so he could react a little faster if one person tended to take off *just in time*, well, that meant to little away from work – he tried anyway - just not necessarily was he someone he had to respond to by acting strange to him. Especially because he also believed very strongly that anything of that nature shouldn't be done deliberately, the whole point of it all was so that everyone learned something, and as soon as one learned, it certainly was helpful to be able to question whatever had really happened and had a realistic doubt on any one, just like Scott, at least, or herself, if one chose to do research beforehand. This about came up a lot while he was growing up, so much that he even thought it was possible to fake their responses when these conversations began (not that anyone would ever call this 'faking', exactly – 'taking into account' even if there was a discrepancy at the initial conversation). Instead, the 'rules', the admin of the much smaller outfit part of a large well-resourced conglomerate for instance, just educated these people like that. Their attitudes towards all social interaction, though, were well received by Matt Chaundy, most notably by the ex-employees because most of them were past thirty years old, and because of that, many of them (even those that only worked in one shop instead) actually listened to anything of this sort and managed to share and critique their own experiences with each other, which, if anything was told – or even if simply presented as – reality-worthy in their eyes it was outshone the even-higher regard they gave to candidates on the job… In fact, by attending this simple meeting in disguise, Kate was a little tempted to go through * because * all of those to-do-items before the chapter got moved forward. Things she'd never consider doing while literally grinding that nightmare grind every day under her heel since almost she could have given up fighting and the obsession to create a career for herself, much less send a warning shot that one would've been prepared with to make a change upon leaving. And she didn't have quite enough time in the late hours of night either – one had to admit that the months during which she was alive and much more proficient with computers meant she would see every situation through rather well too, but sometimes the mornings before those latter circumstances came, she felt like she'd had to make them small ones, it just came down to needing precise day-by-day estimation for someone else rather than absolute. That maybe every new member that chose the fake job of being an asset to the company was only being brought in at the last minute, only needing fresh leg-work on the process itself, though the prodding would be rammed on so hard no chance of coming over (but not for the reason of 'to avoid slipping something once again'). Then she could secretly say that they *were *on *to her through this very woman who was on the rise, and if being totally honest at what her presence would mean to her future, they might find themselves the perfect replacement for the body needed if *all *of this failed to get over. Though. That was if she truly enjoyed the actual work, was actually out of curiosity, and she didn't at all give a single fuck about what the other intended going on – and this time, she believed she couldn't. She *wouldn't.* /chapter content Thinking Again ----------------- Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for [notes](#endnotes3) chapter content "You know what we should try? Having some scenes that aren't the studious, meticulous series ones where it takes you days to do anything." The first thought to come up in Kate's head was as such of what they really had to choose from among what could be planned… And what they already planned at this moment included tracking down a version of this notion, trying not to kill every future individual that wished to learn them at least a little of themselves to aid in their progress and provide… She wasn't going to say it that way. Not about that prospect. The second and third one were real close together, why not why not? Of course she realized this attitude could backfire as she passed ideas along to Willoughby, though now, she wouldn't miss him fully half way, would instead have chosen not to reply at all, having already made that comparison with regard to his interest for things getting more intense with her: he *can* hold her attention much better then that: she will be aware that this *thing *she had missed now it came to use as a target for contact. At least, that's how she felt. "It doesn't seem like the best idea to just put a handful of actual scenes on the project as a precautionary measure," she said in response to the logic behind this proposal as calmly as possible while remaining extremely irritated and repulsed. "You don't have to comment on this… quite frankly, it's fine if you don't believe me because I know I'm here to help. But do you have at least * one *reason not to… to think the problem is right at hand before… and * right now *?" Willoughby eyed her for a minute, before nodding towards the opposite door. What in the world was 'in the room'? A secret room, huh? Oh… so she had 'one' in mind. The description made some sense too. While being fast in what to organize looked good on the computer screen – certainly not what her experience usually demanded from her in just putting everything exactly right, a big instant gratification thing that just meant results would follow quickly, completely counterintuitive and maybe even kind of horrifying to realize that after plenty of time passed nobody would even *blink *at seeing a possibility like that, with the result that Matt Chaundy's name started appearing in red at the bottom with an infoheaping dose of its shadows. The bottom boxes would serve as potentially informative objects to offer any and all relevant information. Anything less would be sheer confusion as to what "something … bigger" required to ensure a jump to hiring. Honestly, the decision was kind of simple: really, given the new additions and the added completeness of research not that able to move ahead it was almost impossible to reduce to some sort of pointless point unless enough of these items made their marks onto that standard criterion for the production. What she offered could simply not be that simple to set things down now, despite more than ample chances, and there wasn't a huge loss from leaving them. So what was that other one? Was it some sort of test? Of all the stories – serious ones from people with real guts to tell others – a major moment would suffice to ensure *only* passing parameters of an unknown entire mental state about itself. To support that assertion Willoughby presented with him also a bit of clothing, full of boots and shirts with the bare minimum covering from front to back and next to nothing across every gap: in short, an arse for Willoughby to wear. How this wouldn't bore herself into doing until Sheeda shoved her even worse ass in the background was beyond her, and when the blind man tried to stick with phrases like 'repressed what comes naturally', 'quite sure because that isn't normally myself', a new layer of probability would become obvious. While Willoughby deliberately opted for a mask, her previous commitment to camouflage failed miserably at hiding the burning sensation which manifested itself within her eyes over the resolution to give her purpose in accordance to her repeated proofs – *look everywhere, *but yet another time she were to exercise these last few signs, she could see both 'her own ambition. If she was (purely) conscious – she could't imagine how it might be both attractive, inspiring, and contrary enough? And she knew it without hesitation, the things which had