#??? nothing will ever replicate that. nothing will fill my soul the same way ever again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cloudsnbones · 3 years

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Ok so quick note, thanks to @wonderofasunrise whose blog I found these prompts on and thus which proceeded to steal. this is no. 11. :)

Excuse for being lazy: also yes this is only meant to be short so like sorry for not expanding on things at all. Perhaps I shall make up for that next time ;)

This is set in s8 around wintery times.

Please enjoy :3

“I thought I would be okay with just being friends but… All I can think of when I’m around you is how badly I want to kiss you and how I can’t do that anymore.”

Kerry lay quietly, her cheek resting on Susan’s chest, her eyes shut in a warm, pensive bliss – two souls in harmony.

Their illicit affair had begun as a matter of surprise to them both; after a night of heavy drinking and deep confessions they awoke the next morning sharing a bed, and what had started as a one-night stand became a regular thing after replicating the original night twice over.

Not only had their sexual relationship grown in a way that neither could have imagined, but an understanding, a friendship had also developed which had allowed themselves to trust wholeheartedly and without the fear of judgment for the first time in a very long time.

Kerry had indeed gotten accustomed to arriving home and finding Susan outside waiting for her, she had started to prepare dinners big enough for two in anticipation of an inevitable phone call asking to spend the night. Everything was falling into place. Therefore, it could never have lasted.

“I think we should end it.”

Whatever ‘it’ was. The nebulous nature of their relationship was growing all too much for Kerry, because, to tell the truth, she had fallen.

She didn’t think that there had ever been a time when she wasn’t in love with Susan Lewis, but to have been finally exposed in full to that euphoria, to live out her long-term dream, one she’d barely registered before now, was bittersweet…when she knew that Susan would never, could never requite what she felt inside.

Susan was surprised at the statement. She had never really thought about ending it, actually ending it. To be honest, since this whole thing started, she hadn’t really thought about anything at all. She knew that they were never going to be a “they”, Kerry Weaver and Susan Lewis: ER Power Couple, but she couldn’t help feel a little, disappointed at the idea of losing her? Although, she wasn’t really going to be lost, just not there in the same way. It just seemed really random, why now? Had she been planning this for a while? It was going well, she had thought, but knowing Kerry perhaps to her this wasn’t right. Anyway, best to end things whilst they’re good right? She clung to that thought in the hope that it might fill the suspicious hole she felt deep down in her chest.

The two promised to stay friends, it’s always nice to have an ally. And Susan was just fine with that, one-hundred-percent completely fine.

“23-year-old male, multiple head lacs, altered, LOC, vitals stable, BP 120/80,” announced the new EMT Danielle as she tried to shake her overgrown fringe out of her eyes.

It was just then as Susan and Kerry approached to take the trauma that the man in question lent over and wretched blood all over Danielle’s jacket causing Kerry and Susan to jump back a little before grabbing the sides of the gurney so that she could sort herself out. The man started to lose consciousness again as they raced to get him inside.

Danielle shed her jacket leaving it on the tarmac of the ambulance bay revealing a white vest and tattoo sleeves before she continued her debrief whilst following the pair to the trauma room, “Received 50 of Lidocaine at the scene, complains of dizziness and neck pain,” she continued.

As they entered the trauma room Susan finally took a look at the woman speaking and what said woman was wearing, “Nice top,” she said her eyes lingering a little bit too long.

“Thanks,” replied Danielle looking down at herself briefly before smiling to show her gratitude.

“LIFT ON 1, 2, 3!” Kerry ordered loudly cutting their little interaction short.

And as Susan lent over to start working on the man she felt Danielle put something small into her pocket whispering, “I’ll see you later.”

She stared as the woman left the trauma room only to look back around to see Kerry watching her icily.

After the man was stabilised, Kerry and Susan left the trauma room ripping their gloves and their aprons off as they did so before tossing them into the trash.

They both started in the same direction, practically colliding, Kerry extending an arm to institute a satisfactory, colleague-appropriate space between them.

“Tough trauma.”

“Yeah, I s’pose…Hey, did I tell you that Susie went to see that film they’ve all been talking about, Shrek(?) the other day, oh my god I have not heard her be so excited about something in months, and the way she talked about the donkey in it you would think that the two were going out, but alas no. Apparently, he is indeed taken by a dragon as is so often the case with actually desirable men,” she ranted enthusiastically putting on a heightened English accent to emphasise the slander.

Kerry listened quietly as she felt Susan’s words dig into her further and further, she should be happier for her, she knew that, but everything was closing in on her and she didn’t like it.

They entered the Doctor’s Lounge and as soon as the door shut behind them and it was clear to Kerry that no one else was in there, she started, “Listen, I don’t wanna make a big deal outta it but I just wanted to let you know that it’s considered a little inappropriate to get distracted by pretty EMTs when working a trauma at least from a management perspective, now as it’s never happened before obviously it’s not a problem but just so you know for any future interactions that they should be left till after you’ve finished working on the patient.”

Susan’s smile failed immediately at the mini reprimand. “Kerry it was nothing I promise.”

“Uhuh – well even if that is the case it’s still inappropriate,” Kerry said pointing her nose in the air.

Kerry’s stiffness on the subject angered Susan who huffed before retorting, “And even if it WAS something I don’t think that’s any of your business, you know Kerry Weaver, not everything is about you I realise, ok, that you’re the only person in YOUR world but that’s not the same for the rest of us,” as she raised her voice, she stepped closer and closer to Kerry refusing to break eye contact for a second.

Kerry was frozen in place, her lip quivering slightly and her eyes conveying only a hint of pain and fear behind their broken shields.

They were practically toe-to-toe, and their proximity almost immediately caused Susan to calm down as if her body was anticipating Kerry’s touch, Kerry’s smell, Kerry’s warmth.

The electricity burning Kerry’s skin as her beloved towered over her, not knowing, never knowing, what those words meant to her. Why although dealing with hurtful comments was part of the job, was always part of the job, they felt different coming from her.

But as cupid’s taunting strings gradually lured them together, the door burst open loudly causing the women to practically jump out of their skin in order to create distance between them.

It was Chuny; “Doctor Weaver there’s a guy wandering around the admit desk I think he’s your patient, Mr. Reid?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute Chuny,” Kerry replied a little too shrilly, her eyes still fixed on Susan. She stayed there for a few more seconds before finally awakening in herself the willpower to sort out the wanderer.

As the last sounds of her crutch hitting the floor faded away into the dissonant noise of the ER Chuny joked, “Did you just have it from Weaver, I bet you didn’t miss those in Phoenix!” before closing the door and leaving.

But ‘missing Weaver’ was really the only thing Susan was able to do at that moment, she turned towards the window to wipe away a tear. Then, she shook herself from head to toe, set her face back to neutrality and spun around so she could go back to work.

Kerry stood alone, her arms restless as if they were missing something, or someone, her kitchen echoing with emptiness. As she stared half-heartedly at the risotto she was making she heard a buzz followed by three rapid knocks. Kerry pulled herself out of her reverie, grabbed her crutch and headed over to the front door.

Upon opening, she saw Susan shivering in a short tan trench coat, her arms wrapped around herself, her right foot tapping the ground beneath her. When she heard the click of the latch she lifted her head and the expression Kerry saw sent a shiver through her, Susan’s eyes were wide and deep inside them there seemed to be some sort of lingering discomfort.

“Hey,” she said shyly before pulling the door to and stepping out into the cold winter’s night also, “What are you doing here?”

“Um…I’m not sure to be honest,” was the esteemed reply.

“Aren’t you cold? Do you want t-”

“Kerry there’s something I have to say and if I don’t say it now, I don’t think I ever will so.”

“Uh…ok, um, go right ahead.”

“I’m so tired, of all this of going to back to the old normal, whatever the hell that was, you know I-” she broke off, her voice cracking slightly as her emotions started to get the better of her, “I thought I would be okay with just being friends but…All I can think of when I’m around you is how badly I want to kiss you and how I can’t do that anymore. And even when you’re mad and being a bitch, I just want to hold you because then I know everything’ll be all right.” And on those final words she broke down, it could have been the cold, it could have been the pressures of moving back to a town where no one really remembered her, but in that moment, it didn’t matter what the exact cause was because her Susan was upset and it yanked at her heartstrings.

The women stood there silently, Susan looking at the floor and Kerry looking at Susan, frozen in light of the revelation, trying to calculate what best to do. When Kerry still didn’t say anything, Susan raised her head once more to look at her and being met only with an unreadable, blank expression, she felt she could take a hint.

Not wanting to stand in the scene of her rejection any longer Susan said, “Goodnight,” in a dejected, barely audible voice before turning around and heading down the steps leading up to the house. And it was this that triggered Kerry’s ability to move once more.

“Wait!” she called out, as she reached her hand out for the banister and tried to rush down the stairs, but her hurriedness and the light frost worked against her and as Susan turned around Kerry practically tumbled into her arms.

And at this intimacy, there was only one thing left for them really, because love doesn’t require logical thinking, sometimes all it needs is an impulse.

Kerry pulled herself up muttering a word of thanks before running her hand through Susan’s hair and slowly, softly bringing her down for a kiss.

And as a thousand fireworks went off in their minds, they simultaneously knew that “they” would last forever.

#kerry weaver #kerry x susan #susan lewis #er #nbc er #ficlet #drabble #kerry weaver x susan lewis #angst #fluff #aghhhh sorry again #better than nothing though right #also sorry if the medical stuff is wrong #that's not why i'm here #i don't think it's sooooo inaccurate???#also ive scheduled this for like the middle of the night where i am so yeah whatever you say i will be waking up to and will define my day #remember that #i don't want to proof read this again any mistakes that are there now remain there #my writing

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literameera · 3 years

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White Sails

2433 words

The oceans going to swallow him whole some day and only then could he die happy.

Caspian already gave his soul to the sea, his first great love. Initially I was excited for him and how he got to live out his dreams. He’d write to me about his exploits, I’d gasp and laugh when appropriate, as if he can see, and finally when the stories ended, I’d write to say that I’ve been living the same way: wake up, work, eat, sleep and mostly anticipate. He’d tease that I live like a widow refusing to believe her husband's dead, wasting away staring out the window, hoping for him to someday return to her. Like the ship of Theseus every time he left a part of him had been replaced, how long has he been a man I couldn't recognise, a ghost wearing my lover’s skin.

Only the wooden planks stepped on by Theseus himself belong to the original ship, the rest are imposters high off the glory of His name. Your skin cells regenerate every twenty-seven days – and it’s been longer than that since my hands held his, the wind already swept all memories of my words from his mind. He can only belong to one and she’s infinitely larger than me. To him, her cold embrace feels like coming home. It’s selfish – I’d remind myself – selfish to want to steal what makes him happy all because I feel lonely, he’s loved the ocean long before he’s loved me, and he will long after. I can only hope she’s kind when she does finally take him. I’ve heard that saltwater burns your lungs and that a body only sinks for a moment and as it fills with water it floats to the top, I don’t want them to find his body, he wouldn’t want them to either. I hope his clothes weigh him down and 80% becomes all of him, that he sinks to Atlantis and the sun never feels him again, we don’t deserve it.

But then he comes home, the wind in his hair, salt clinging to his skin and horribly chapped lips, he kisses me hello and I get a taste of what he feels. He tells me he’s missed the warm water from the shower while I wash his locks, that his land legs haven’t grown back yet so can I hold on just a little tighter ‘to make sure I don’t fall of course’. I tell him our neighbours' gossip and he laugh and gasps when appropriate and says that he’s missed the shop at the end of the street, in the morning he’ll grab groceries and those chocolates he’s loved since he was a kid, and some things never change. When it’s quiet and we lull we watch the sun set, sitting on a linoleum countertop in the kitchen, he glows orange in its light and tells me he’s missed me.

When a whale dies its body sinks to the benthic zone, there where there’s no sun, no blood, no heat, no me, or him the oceans creatures eat on its flesh, their entire life's sustenance reliant on an animal they’ve never seen alive and blobfish get their namesake feature from the rapid shift in pressure, they essentially burst while being pulled up by fishermen. The universe is kept spinning by forces we don’t know and can’t name and one day the sun could burst, and we wouldn’t know until 8 minutes later when its light should touch us and won’t. But it did that day, the light travelled through a solar system to shine on him, and shine on me, and that’s how we met. It was fate. Eight years later it’s still fate when Caspian wakes up beside me, his skin a warm brown, like the terracotta pots he brings back to accommodate my ever-growing garden, and his tousled hair a sun-bleached orange, the roots betray their natural umber colour (the same as the eyes he was currently hiding behind tired palms), men like him are born out of stardust, and they can’t help but to replicate its heat. He’s looking at me now, his warm hands place a stray strand of my own umber hair behind my ear and pauses on my cheek, my bronze skin a slight contrast to his, brown eyes reflecting brown.

‘Let’s go over the plan, alright Leya?’ He breaks the silence, ‘we’ll lock up, give the keys to Theo and Honora, they promised to water our plants and dust the place while we’re gone, we pick up your jumper from the market –Eilidh promised it’ll be done by then- and then it’s me, you and wherever you can land your finger on a map.’

‘Yeah, I can’t wait. Me, you and The Caspian’ the smile I give him falters and my bottom lip trembles. He frowns.

It was my idea to come with him, I was tired of being alone and he was tired of forgetting synonyms of vast for his letters home, I knew he exhausted all the ways to say I love you when he started to transcript theology to me:

‘They believe that next to Christ, that’s what they call him, there was a man that lived in sin, two in fact but only one of them matters. They don’t know anything about this man, not even his name, except for his last words. And they were that of forgiveness and salvation. A man whose entire history is left out of the book that chronicles it. We know nothing of his home, his family, his life, not even his crimes, but we know that he loved and was loved in return. I don’t believe a lick of it but by God these people are good storytellers.’

I did want to go. Maybe the second I see the flickering reflected crescent moon on the ocean waves I’d decide I never wanted to leave, that the past 25 years of living and four years waiting can all be justified by that one experience. But I also couldn’t just leave. He was the one with adventures and loose ties and sea salt, and I’m the one that waits. The diligent partner with a cup of tea and open arms for him, who were we if not that? Who am I without anticipation and loneliness? For years, my life was contingent on feeling and watching a ticking clock, and now I just get to be free? It doesn’t sound real. It doesn’t sound fair on the woman I used to be, the one still waiting. He knows how I feel, he must, from the furrow of an eyebrow I know he’s got me pegged.

‘Remember the night before I left- the first time that is- and I kept going over lists, obligations and checking everything twice, I even meal prepped your food for months in advance. And you told me everything will still be here when I get back...’ He pauses to hold my face in both hands, brown eyes locked on brown eyes to make sure I was listening, ‘everything will still be here when we get back. If you don’t want to go that’s fine, we won’t, I’ll spend the next six months right here with you, and every day after that if you want me to. I’m tired of you being alone. But if you do want to go... We lock up, see the world and come back, it’s that easy.’ With that he kisses my temple -the most delicate part of the head – and climbs out of bed.

Honora and Theo promised to give all the leftover perishable foods to the family around the corner, they have seven kids and not enough to feed them all. They also ensured once a week every plant will be watered, all letters brought in, and the surfaces periodically dusted. The jumper Eilidh had made was beautiful, she told us wool is preferable when wet because it resists water and keeps you warm. She made it green, in case I miss the trees, and Caspian paid her double. I had hoped the air would be electric, brimming with something, as if it knew I’m leaving this time too. Everything was the same, same as it's always been and same as it always will. And I won’t be, I’ll go out there, replace my ships planks and come back me, but not wholly or maybe as more, and if Caspian’s with me the whole time who would notice the change, all of my red strings connect back to his.

It was half a day's journey to the port, and I felt it all. At some point my head was pulled to rest on his shoulder and every time the sun shone particularly bright he held a hand over my eyes to shield them. When we were close to enough to the sea to smell it, the briny tang light in the air, he came into himself, as if he swallowed sunlight, and grinned.

I hate this. Caspian told me I will at first, I haven’t got the familial love he has. A runaway father that was only 19 when he met his future wife at the port. The family was forcibly moved to a landlocked town when opportunities dimmed and Caspian's childhood was spending every holiday possible making the hours long treks to the beach, with just enough time to wiggle his toes in the sand and swallow lungsful of water when learning to swim, and when he was older it was learning how to sail with his father. Finally, it’d get too cold to continue so his mother would swaddle him in towels and place him on her lap, until he eventually grew too big for her, together they’d watch the sun set. He told me once that it was like the water was just a mirror and everything radiated pink and orange and golden hues until finally... darkness, and there was twice as many stars as usual. Then they’d go home and count down till the next summer. His love was intergenerational, it’ll grow on you, trust me. But it won’t, I hate this. I feel sick & disoriented, it’s too loud and quiet at the same time. Like when people move from a bustling city, heavy in smog and movement, to a quaint village, and there they find the crickets and pollen too much to bear. There was none of the sounds I was accustomed to and all too many of ones I wasn’t. I can’t even swim.

How did we plan for weeks and not think that I would need to know how to swim?

Caspian had finished prepping the sails and letting us go in the wind's direction, promising he’ll take us as far East as he can find – and then carry on. He had tried to explain all the terms to me, but words like ‘jib’ and ‘hull’ and ‘tiller’ easily slipped out of my mind like water. Instead, I stood by the helm and just watched him work, focusing on the beads of sweat running down his forehead and pushing supper down as far deep as it goes, as to not ruin this for him. When he had finished, he gave me the tour, showing me the saloon, where to cook, where to rest, where to pray, how to store in such a small space and when I was overwhelmingly exhausted from the information swimming in my head, he grabbed some pillows and blankets and led me back to the cockpit. There he prepped everything like it was our bed at home and laid down, gently pulling me down with him, our knees were bent awkwardly, and we were closer together than usual. That’s when I understood When I was younger my mother would bring me to visit her friends and after the initial gasps and hugs and ‘my how you’ve grown!’ they would largely ignore me to talk to each other. One of her friends, Mariam, had a baby boy that would sleep in a wooden bassinet pushed to the wall closest to where I was sitting, when he did stir, they’d finally address me again and tell me to rock him slightly, let him be lulled back to rest. Here, we were lightly rocked side to side by Poseidon himself and entire galaxies shining down on us, like a sleeping baby in a bassinet. I didn’t know there could be so many stars and still such a vast darkness. Caspian told me about the constellations he knows and the ones he’s made up, his own mythologies mapped out above us. And when I was too tired to listen, eyes drooping and his words bleeding into each other he tenderly held my elbow to help me up, shifting so I could rest my weight on him, and walked me to the bed, trying as best he could to push my dead weight into the cramped space. Leaving only for a moment to bring the pillows back in, before climbing into bed besides me.

The next morning, we stopped on still waters, and he taught me how to swim. In the afternoons, after I showed him my grandmothers' recipes for the cold, he tried to teach me more sailing terms and by the evening I’d read to him under the dimming light, I’d have to stop after a moment, too nauseous to read the words. It was a routine we near perfected in a month. I could tell he was happy; he was drowning in it. Shockingly, I was too, a saloon that smelled like garlic and spice, secured down potted herbs, dry storage spaces filled to the brim with my books, and his slow breaths when I should be asleep, was enough. On days the wind was too bad to pause he’d make me use the knots he taught me and shout what I need to do if we tip over, the exhilaration was more than anything I’d ever known.

Resources would run low, and he’d dock in the port of a country I'd never heard of, a culture unfamiliar and language unknown. With limited communication and lots of points & smiles we’d buy what we need and when our food was restocked, I’d ask to stay a few days more. We’d integrate ourselves in the local community and learn how to say ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ and plan to return in the holiday season. We’d make pocket communities across the world and relish in hot water and write letters to the people back home.

#tw religious themes #tw death mention #tw drowning #writing #writers #writers on tumbr #prose #writeblr #studyblr #white sails #ask to tag

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keeper-not-hero · 3 years

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MY THREE HUMANS AND MY THREE TROLLS ARE FINALLY DONE BEING THOUGHT ABOUT AND ARE NOW PLACED INTO THE WORLD FOR YOU TO ENJOY READING ABOUT, Massive post under read more!!!

[Obs: These ain’t kids. They’re all in their early 20’s tho.]

Gatolt Osbizb (name means nothing. = Muse of Doom.) -

Looks: Hair that goes down to her shoulders, curly and surprisingly well groomed. Skin (and body) made up of tiny chunks stitched together. Fingers, hands, legs, slightly different shades of grey, with seams colored with the multitude of different blood types beneath. Blank eyes, shirt and pants. Simplistic dress code.

Personality: A hodgepodge of Troll flesh, bones, and a few cybernetic enhancements all stitched together into a singular being. Goldblood, purple blood, violet, and more. Both of her eyes are blank (though she can still see thanks to cyberoptics), and she is usually in at least a mild amount of pain due to the strain of her body barely being able to keep itself together. Despite all that, she tries to act cheery and tries to be the life of her friend circle, though not always with success. And besides, she rarely tries to mingle outside of it, feeling unwelcome in other circles.

Constantly requires maintenance which she usually does herself, and… fresh replacements. Her creator fucked up in making her, which means she is now slowly yet constantly rotting away, to the point every part of her body except the brain and enhancements are different than her first resurrection. Her girlfriend, Bakhus, usually helps with gathering ‘replacements’. She feels like a burden due to her condition that sometimes leaves her bedridden for days, which makes her stay quiet and sometimes even enable her friends’ bad habits, because she doesn’t want to be a drag. Hates the fact her whole life revolves around her condition. Likes gardening and clockwork.

Bakhus Gredui (Greedy Bacchus / Dionysius. = Thief of Void) -

Looks: Hair that goes all the way to the floor and a few feet behind her, greasy, messy, and dragging food bits in it. Tank top with her sign (Sign of the Brazen) on it, suspenders and oversized clown pants. Juggalo make-up messy and somewhat faded, droopy yellow eyes, usually with a hunched stance. Very, very tall, and extremely strong - with some healthy weight to her body to go along with it.

Personality: A purple-blood that represses her kind and motherly urges under liters and liters of Faygo. A chef at heart and a great cook from years of experience, she constantly throws barbecues and small carnivals on her massive garden, which attracts lowblood and highblood alike. Her festivities have become small gathering spots for those who wish to mingle with the upper / lower classes despite their own status, and for spies of both the Condescension and those who oppose her. Bakhus is, of course, too busy grilling to mind that she has accidentally created the perfect neutral spot.

Despite her cooking prowess, the Faygo inhibits both her ability to feel much empathy or care about the taste of her food. Deliciously cooked and prepared meals placed near overly-sugary, soggy, Faygo-drenched pretzels. She carries a massive cookbook alongside her massive pot, which has recipes that certain blood types enjoy, and… recipes made out of said blood types. She has no qualms cooking violets and reds, and sometimes will go so far as to grab Faygo-drunk trolls in her cookout and take them inside to ‘rest’. They’re never seen again.

Also keeps a small spice garden. Gatolt usually takes care of it, with whatever isn’t used to cook as fertilizer. Occasionally, she sends the butchered corpses to Marciu. Who also happens to be Gatolt’s creator.

Marciu Shelli (Like, y’know. Mary Shelley. Frankenstein’s author. = Seer of Space) -

Looks: Short hair, think Eridan, but with no streak. Scrawny to a fault, and clearly underfed. Big scientist glasses with special prescription lenses, white lab robes that hide his starving figure and his left hand gloved with thick, hazmat-suit-like protection. The right one is a prosthetic, indigo tubes and wires trying to replicate the sensation of the original with… some success. Pointy nose, sharp teef.

Personality: Anxious, skittery and, quite frankly pitiful even for an indigo blood, Marciu spends most of his days either robbing graves for corpses or putting his ill-gotten gains to use in his laboratory. Deeply resentful of feelings he has about himself, he buries them deep within him and, to make sure no one can say he is valid or try to empathize with his pain, keeps pushing himself further and further down the hole until he pushes everyone away. Having lost a hand to a nasty accident involving a bone saw and a few too many of Bakhus’ spiked snacks, he also has a mechanical replacement.

A master of biomechanical engineering, he constantly creates half-troll, half-machine abominations to help him around the lab. Rotten servants just barely able to move their joints with hollow eyes and faces, mechanical hearts pumping blood and fuel throughout the system. Still, despite his best attempts at being as repugnant as possible, his friends still cling to him.

Except Gatolt. Gatolt has actively tried to kill him multiple times, being stopped only by Bakhus’ eternal kindness to the weirdo that occasionally gives her “aged” ingredients. Also, his human friends.

[Why does he have human friends? Idk, Pesterchum + machines or AU where humans and trolls live in the same world after a few Sburb/Sgrub/Swhatever versions playing out after homestuck and Lord English being gone.]

Bert Kairos (Albert Einstein and his whole relativity stuff + Kairos, a greek concept of time. = Mage of Time.) -

Looks: Very short and very curly hair. Dark skin, both legs missing, though one has a very unpolished, simplistic metal prosthetic to help him stand in one foot. Right arm missing too, half of a prosthetic attached to it,cut off at the elbow from an accident. Hasn’t bothered replacing it yet. Blouse with a robot symbol and shorts, chin stubble. Brown eyes.

Personality: A gentle soul who makes more time for everyone else than he ever did to himself. Spending literal days away from his parents’ home, staying in his makeshift workshop creating toys for the kids on his street and to help the people of his community. Lost both legs and an arm from accidents with heavy machinery and cars that he work repairing to make a living, usually for meager scraps out of the kindness of his own heart and the belief that it’s all part of a greater plan that he barely gets enough to survive, relying on crutches and Marciu’s prosthetics that often break because of even more accidents due to his very precarious working conditions.

He dreams of one day being able to inspire people, though. A big, endless machine of silly, simple delights. Not curing the world, not controlling the weather, a machine with the same utility as a painting. A machine that could cover the entire world in its width and length, proof that humanity can do anything if it just bands together. A wish that sometimes consumes his mind as he spends hours on end, instead of sleeping, building small moving pieces that will hopefully one day help fill this whole. This magnificent machine he will make to help mankind flourish through its artistic value, that they will sing his name in praise for generations, that mankind will be uplifted until we don’t need work, money, barriers, differences, just a homogenous mass streaking across the cosmos with machine brilliance.

But, he has way too many people to take care of, so he never dabbles on it too much.

Andy Eissuh ( :) - Lord of Life) -

Looks: Blonde hair tied in a manbun. Bushy stubble beard all over his face. Smuggest fucking grin you’ve ever seen. Blue eyes. Average height, an air of superiority that is as annoying as it is believable due to how he carries himself; like an untouchable douchebag. White tuxedo and business pants, y’know, like a doctor. Right? He’s even got the white cross! Yeah, sure, that sounds right. Like he cares about proper dress code for doctors.

Personality: A very, very, very bad doctor. A very bad doctor that has just enough good reputation and far too much money from their family to let their pretty much 100% patient loss rate slip without anyone being able to pry into it. Patient comes in, body bag goes out, and nothing ever leaves the hospital. The one time he actually saved someone was by accident, and it was a botched (and misdiagnosed by him) liver transplant where he accidentally removed the appendix instead of said liver, forgot to replace it, and the patient recovered in a short while with the help of the nurses from what he later learned was appendicitis.

Believing himself to be able to do no wrong, with a chirpy, colorful yet aggressively passive personality, he keeps his friend group around mostly to dispose of the bodies without many questions asked, and so he can feel better than the pathetic wretches he considers them. Completely blind to his irredeemably cruel medical malpractices, which he didn’t even study for, he simply bought his way into a degree because he “could feel it was my destiny.” Soft, sweet, and completely unhinged. Finding great joy preying upon the insecurities and naivete of his peers, which he feels is a breeding ground to use and abuse them for his own needs. Shoulda been smarter if you didn’t wanna get taken advantage of, duh!

Cain Pyrite (Cain the first sinner + Fool’s Gold. = Rogue of Light. ) -

Looks: Hair slightly above his shoulders, dark and greasy. Sickly pale skin, beeg librarian glasses. A nice fuzzy coat, plus shirt, plus jeans. Eye symbol on his coat. Looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in weeks, which, yeah, is absolutely right. Gentle smile, though it occasionally cracks into a nervous attempt at hiding… something!

Personality: Dedicated to… no, OBSESSED with preserving occult and ancient knowledge. Scrolls from ancient alchemists, bones of kings, relics thought long since lost hidden on the back of his seemingly normal book shop. Spending most of his days with no clients, he occasionally gets someone who is aware of his darker inclinations. He is always happy to trade knowledge for knowledge and artifact for artifact.

Only, not always the originals. No. Never the originals.

Always finding a way to spin a story and make sure that he can spot out any fakes, he builds his collection of convincing lies, and hidden truths. Friends with the others since grave-digging always inherits some fun and interesting things, and his appetite for the esoteric and forgotten is only comparable for his taste in interesting and unique foods.

#oc #long post #homestuck #Enjoy!!!!!!!! maybe idk #they're all horrible peopl #who will one day get better...#if i ever fucking WRITE my fanadventure #or... the dream #manage to turn it into a fancomic with someone

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bunnyprincesshours · 4 years

Text

the V word / NCT

TaeyongxFem!Reader

Genre: boyfriend!Taeyong, non-idol!AU, fluff, smut

Word count: 5k

Warning: sexual themes, smut, loss of virginity, and profanities

A/N: reposted from my old blog (that is in the process of being deleted)

Romance isn’t always intense and passionate. Sometimes it’s shy and awkward.

“Hey Taeyong.”

“Yes cutie?”

“Are you a virgin?”

Halting all movements, your boyfriend looks up from the gaming device in his hands, and you hear descending notes fill the sudden silence as his character dies. It’s a lazy day for you and Taeyong, with him playing games on his Nintendo switch and you just playing around with your phone. You didn’t intend to be so abrupt with the question, but you had been in one of your internet spirals where one search leads you down a rabbit hole of tangents.

You were transfixed on this article about a couple who decided to wait until marriage, which happened to be in their thirties, when it suddenly made you think about your own relationship. Having only dated each other for almost 4 months, sex isn’t something that either of you had brought to the table yet. You’re not trying to rush it, or even hint anything to him, by asking the question. It’s all pure curiosity. You won’t be surprised if he has; he’s very good looking after all. But it didn’t hurt to ask, right?

“I, uhm,” Taeyong clears his throat, suddenly very uncomfortable as he puts his game on pause, “are you?”

You look at him suspiciously, putting your phone aside as you retort, “I asked first.”

“And I asked second.”

“Babe,” you give him a pointed look. Watching something uncomfortable settle into his features, Taeyong carefully puts his device aside, before sitting up and turning to you. There’s a hesitance shining on his lips, tongue swiping across them like he’s suddenly parched, and you remain leaning against his pillows, waiting for his answer.

“No,” he sighs with a smile, “I’m not.”

“Oh,” you blink, “okay.” Though you claim to be fine either way, you somehow hoped he hasn’t yet - you think you just got carried away by the article you were reading.

“What about you?” he asks quietly, resting a hand on your knee and trying not to be awkward about the conversation.

You aren’t at all embarrassed about still being a virgin, never once feeling as though you’re missing out on something. But sitting in front of Taeyong, and trying to imagine how he’d react, makes you kind of nervous. Which is stupid, because you trust your boyfriend and you know he won’t make a big deal out of it when you tell him.

“I, uhm,” you bite down on your lip as you look away, “Yeah, I am.”

“Oh,” he blinks “Okay.”

There’s a heavy pause, and embarrassment overtakes you when Taeyong does nothing to fill the sudden hole in the conversation. “I’m so sorry,” you chuckle uneasily, “I’ve made it awkward haven’t I?”

“What? No, no way,” Taeyong’s hand travels to hold yours, intertwining your fingers together, “I was just thinking to myself.”

“Look, I’m really not trying to pressure you into anything,” you sit up, scooting next to him to lean your chin on his shoulder, “I was reading this dumb article and I guess I just got curious.”

“It’s fine, honestly,” Taeyong smiles softly, “It’s probably good that we’re open about this stuff.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he pecks the tip of your nose. And you smile warmly at Taeyong, glad he isn’t being weird about this. But as you sink back on his pillows, grabbing your phone to resume your reading, you’re keenly aware of his stillness when Taeyong doesn’t immediately resume his game. You stare at him, from behind your phone, only to find his eyes already trained on you.

“Can I ask a question?” You nod. “Is there a reason you haven’t yet?”

“Oh, um,” you frown, thinking to yourself.

It’s not as though you’re saving yourself for marriage - that kind of mentality has never been enforced by your family or your friends. But it’s more that you haven’t had the chance. Your first boyfriend was in high school, and that was only because his best friend had been dating your best friend at the time. You simply just weren’t ready yet with your second boyfriend. And your third boyfriend only lasted about 2 months before he had to fly back to Japan.

“I guess I just haven’t had the chance,” you shrug nonchalantly.

“Have you done other stuff before?” Taeyong tilts his head to the side curiously, his hair hanging askew, eyes blinking at you in curiosity.

“Like?”

“You know,” he does a weird gesture with his hands, coiling it into a loose fist, lazily replicating a handjob, “other stuff.”

“If you’re asking if I’ve touched a penis before then yes, I have,” you chuckle, trying not to cringe at his hand gesture. Taeyong blushes to himself, laughing with you as he didn’t anticipate you to be open about this.

“It’s okay, I’m not completely clueless,” you smirk, before looking back down at your phone, only just missing the quirk in Taeyong’s eyes as he resumes his attention to his game.

In your mind, it was nothing but an innocently curious conversation, but it seems that Taeyong understood it as a hint. Day by day, you notice him becoming more and more handsy with you, palms smoothing across the dips and curves of your body that have only ever been explored by past lovers. He always wants to hold you close, always keeping a hand either at your hip, at your waist, in your hand, sometimes even on your butt. You certainly don’t mind, but you can’t help but think about how Taeyong never used to be big on PDA. Something changed in him, and you can only assume, due to the timing of it all, that it started with that conversation.

“Hey Taeyong” you smirk to yourself.

“Yes gorgeous?”

“What’cha doing there bud?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he looks at you innocently, although his hand is comfortably gripping your ass as you cook dinner at Ten’s place. Your mutual friend invited both of you over for a quiet meal, but also to introduce you to his new dog Chichi. Chichi is a Jack Russell Terrier who’s somehow sassier than Ten is; truly a match made in heaven.

But as you stir the sauce for the spaghetti, Taeyong gets into one of his moods again. He ghosts behind you, standing close to your body as his hands wander over your hips, massaging up and down while planting a colony of kisses on your shoulder and neck.

“Taeyong, I’m serious, you can’t do this here,” you bite down on your lip, trying to concentrate on the dish in front of you.

“Do what?” he asks softly, like he isn’t almost pressing his crotch against your ass. Feeling his hands moving over your hips, Taeyong reaches around to your front and barely grazes the zip of your jeans. You’re about to tell him to cut it out when he presses against you, into you, the force pushing you flush against the kitchen counter. A little gasp shoots out of your mouth in surprise, and for a moment you don’t want him to stop.

He kisses your neck softly, teasingly, and your grip around the wooden spatula tightens. You clamp your lips shut as a pleasured sigh attempts to escape. Your lids fall heavy as Taeyong’s hands climb up to the waistband of your jeans, breath hitching as his fingertips dance up and underneath your shirt, making shy contact with your stomach. There’s a feeling of urgency as Taeyong’s other hand toys with the button of your jeans. And when you can’t control the desire anymore, you give in and let the spatula lean against the inside of the pot, before turning in your boyfriend’s arms to face him.

Immediately, your lips are sealed with a kiss. He feels it too, the surge of this sudden, violent, need. If you aren’t so clouded by lust, you wouldn’t be actively making this decision. But there’s a voice in your head convincing you that you need this, and you need it now. You let Taeyong’s hands tug you by the hips, before feeling them slipping up under your shirt, grazing your stomach before cupping your breasts. You gasp as you feel his thumb slipping into your bra, swiping against your hardened nipple. The excitement pools in-between your legs, whining as he renders you into a mess of sighs and moans.

Ten could come back from the grocery store any minute, but you don’t seem to really care at this moment. Your own hands claw over Taeyong’s chest before resting at the back of his neck, pulling him closer to deepen this heated make out session. Hearing a light tapping noise on the tile floor of the kitchen, you pay it no mind as Taeyong starts to trail kisses down to your neck. Feeling him sucking on your sweet spot, you gasp as he grabs your right knee and lifts it up, pressing himself closer into you, trying to let you know how eager he is for this.

As your head lulls back, mouth choking out a quiet moan, Taeyong begins to slowly grind against your jeans, his kisses making you wetter. You tilt your neck aside to let him access more of your skin. But when you do, you spot, through half-lidded eyes, Chichi staring at you curiously. Her head is titled comically, her eyes looking directly into yours; almost as if she knows what you’re about to do and she’s judging you.

You tap Taeyong’s shoulder, but when you only get a gruff response in return, you shake him off. He lifts his head up to look at you questioningly, and when he does, you just point to the small dog behind him. Looking over his shoulder, Taeyong notices Chichi, but apparently not in the same manner that you did.

“So what?” he chuckles “She’s just the dog.”

“Yeah, and she’s watching us!”

“It’s not like she knows.”

“We don’t know that!” you reason. Taeyong fights back his chuckle, trying to understand your logic. But he fails miserably and ends up laughing against your shoulder, trying to muffle his amusement. You hit him playfully, “It’s not funny! Chichi was like, staring in my soul.”

“She was what?”

“Look at her!”

Looking over his shoulder again, Taeyong just finds Chichi staring cutely with her head titled to the side. He turns back to you with confused smile, finding nothing remotely irksome about the small creature. “Sweetie she’s just staring,” Taeyong tries to coax you back into the moment, pressing his hips into yours, “It’s fine.”

But as he starts to plant soft kisses down to the neckline of your shirt, you can’t help but feel thrown off. Whether it’s because Chichi won’t stop staring, or that you finally realise you’re about to fuck in Ten’s apartment. You’re hit with the reality that you can’t possibly lose your virginity here, just like this - nor could you do anything sexual with Chichi watching you with her dead stare.

“Wait, no, I really can’t,” you press your palms against Taeyong’s chest to halt his movements, “I can’t do this.”

Taeyong gives you a conflicted look, obviously disappointed, but he respects your wishes and plants one last kiss on your lips before disentangling his limbs from yours. As he gently drops you back on the ground, you hear him mutter “I can’t believe I got cock-blocked by a dog.”

Laughing at his comment, Taeyong pouts playfully, poking your side and making you jump. Watching him walk towards the dog, Chichi runs away from him as your hear Taeyong grumble “Come here you little shit, we need to have a talk.”

There’s always something. Now the you’re finally ready, there’s always something. And even though Taeyong has proven himself to be incredibly patient, you can tell that this patience is - understandably - starting to wear thin. He wants you and you want him; badly.

“Hey Taeyong.”

“Yes beautiful?”

“We can do more than just make out.”

“Oh, uhm, okay,” he chuckles to himself, “I’ll get to that part.”

Giggling, you resume kissing on his bed, feeling his weight on top of you as he rests himself between your legs. It was one of those busy weeks, where everything that could prevent you from meeting up with each other just happened, and the only time you get with each other is nothing more than a passing video call. So when your schedules finally line up, and you both finally have a weekend free for each other, it seems clear that you both desperately want to make use of this rare chance to be together.

Grabbing him by the back of his neck, a greediness consumes you as you pull him closer to your body. There’s that urge again, that want that morphs into a need. And you don’t shy away when you feel his crotch resting against yours, as if the only thing stopping the both of you are his sweatpants and your shorts. You massage your fingertips into his hair, and you hear him sigh against your lips at the feeling of your intimacy. He breaks away from your lips, peppering you with soft pecks before hovering over your face.

“What?” you ask impatiently, connecting your lips to the sweet spot on his neck to ease him back into the moment.

He moans before asking, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Do what?” you ask against his skin, too excited to even think about anything else.

“Have sex.”

You finally pause, catching your breath as you really stop to look at Taeyong, finding him staring at you, watching you for any hint that maybe you aren’t ready yet. But if you’re going to be honest with yourself, you were ready weeks ago; you just didn’t have the time. “Taeyong,” you grab his cheeks, forcing him to look you in the eyes as you say “I want to have sex with you.”

His cheeks bunch up against your hands as his lips stretch into a grin, eyes glowing at the very clear verbal confirmation of your intentions. Taeyong just looks too adorable, and you can feel your heart swell. Pulling him down, you plant another kiss on his lips, and this time you start to feel his hands massaging your thighs. Your chest rises in anticipation, feeling his hands inching closer and closer to the hem of your shorts, sighing expressively when his fingertips grip your skin.

As he pulls away once again, you stare at him expectantly, and softly he asks “Can I take your shirt off?”

Blinking in surprise, it seems that in the chaos of sexual desire, you somehow completely forgot that having sex requires you to be somewhat naked in front of your partner. And it’s not as though you’ve ever been self-conscious in front of Taeyong, you know he loves you no matter what; but it’s never easy being naked in front of someone for the first time.

“Yes,” you nod after a thoughtful pause.

“Okay,” Taeyong smiles, a small one that lifts the corners of his mouth ever so slightly. You prop yourself up and Taeyong’s hands tug on the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head slowly. The cool air in his bedroom makes you feel acutely aware of being shirtless, goosebumps rising across your chest, and you instinctively close in on yourself. Taeyong throws your shirt aside, admiring the cute bra you’re wearing today, eyes never leaving you as he whispers, “You’re perfect.”

“Thanks,” you blush, but before you can do anything else, you had to ask for your own ease of mind, “Taeyong?”

“Yes angel?”

“Can you take your shirt off too?”

“Of course,” Taeyong smiles, understanding what you must be feeling. He balances himself on his knees, easily stripping his shirt off. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Taeyong topless, maybe once or twice when he was changing shirts or taking off his hoodie. So you can’t help but linger on his surprisingly toned stomach; you just assumed gamers didn’t like working out.

Leaning down, Taeyong’s lips melt into yours once again, the feeling of his bare skin against your own makes the excitement grow between your legs. The intimacy of the moment has your heart beating incredibly fast, you wonder if Taeyong can feel it against his skin. With your hands exploring their way down his torso, gliding over the defined muscles on his body, you come to a careful stop at the band of his sweatpants. Tracing over the seams of the waistband, your fingertips tease his skin as you tug his pants down inch by inch.

“Do you,” Taeyong mutters between your lips, “want me to take them off?”

“Yes please,” you reply so eagerly, you make yourself chuckle. Taeyong giggles, but he does as he says. Lifting himself off of you, he swiftly removes his sweatpants, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. You blush as you find yourself staring at the tent on his underwear, biting your lip in anticipation as Taeyong leans back down.

“You okay there?” he asks softly, playfully trailing kisses down your neck.

“Yes, yeah, I uh,” you gasp as Taeyong’s lips grazes against your stomach, “I’m just excited I guess.”

Your boyfriend giggles at your response, and you mentally face palm at such an awkward response. “I’m glad,” Taeyong mutters against your skin, “I want to make sure this is as good for you as it is for me.”

Biting down your bashful smile, you’re stunned to find yourself more giddy than sensual in a moment like this. So far, this has been nothing like how the magazine columns or romance novels described your first time to be. It isn’t heated or intense, you’re not in a candle-lit room with too many rose petals scattered everywhere. It’s just you and Taeyong in his bedroom, the early evening casting the first rays of sunset before it slowly sinks in the horizon. It’s so simple, but it feels so utterly perfect. Maybe this is okay too.

Taeyong’s lips nip at the skin of your breasts, his hands reaching around behind you slowly. Glancing up, you give him an encouraging smile before feeling his fingers fiddle with the bra strap. There’s a silent moment of struggle, and as you’re about to offer your help, he manages to unlock the hooks. You feel the bra detach from your skin, and you blush as Taeyong peels the item of clothing off of you. You see him bite down on his bottom lip, his eyes looking up at you through his lashes, quietly asking, “How did I get so lucky?”

“Oh my God stop,” you cringe, hiding your face in your hands, letting your head drop back on his pillows.

Taeyong chuckles at your reaction, and slowly, he starts to kiss his way down your chest. You gasp a little as his thumb pinches your nipples, gently swiping until it hardens. A pleasured sigh escapes you as his tongue flicks your nipple, making you feel a wetness grow between your legs. This isn’t the first time someone’s done this to you, but with Taeyong, it just feels a lot more intense. Like you feel everything on an entirely different level.

His hand rests on your abdomen, making your stomach flinch at the sudden touch of his warm hand. Your chest tightens a little as his fingers toy with the band of your shorts. As he slowly inches his way into your pants, he breaks his lips away from your chest to meet your nervous gaze. There’s reassurance in his stare as he asks, “Is this still okay?”

You nod, but you couldn’t help but let the nerves show. What if you did something wrong? Or weird? Maybe it would have been better if Taeyong was also still a virgin so you could both wade through this together. Or maybe it’s better that he isn’t, so at least you both aren’t completely clueless.

Taeyong can practically hear you overthinking, and he halts all movements of his hands before dipping down to kiss your lips, gentle so as to settle your racing thoughts. Breaking away by a mere inch from your lips, the tips of your noses are touching as he mutters, “If it gets too much, you tell me and we can stop.”

Nodding, you start to feel a lot better, especially after the verbal reassurance. You feel safe with Taeyong. Kissing his lips once again in show of compliance, you feel his hand tug your shorts off. Lifting your legs, he easily slips the item of clothing off of you, flinging it back somewhere behind him. His hands travel down from your knee, closing in on the space between your legs. And as you busy yourself with his lips and his hair, you subconsciously let out a whine as Taeyong’s fingers trace the edges of your underwear.

Taeyong can’t help but chuckle against your lips, more in satisfaction than humour. He likes that you’re needy, and he likes that you’re not afraid to express it. But figuring that you’re starting to tip over towards impatience, he slips your underwear off and discards it in the same direction as your shorts.

Hovering above you, hands trace your naked body like it’s the first time he’s realising his sense of touch, hands curiously caressing here and there. His palm glazes over your legs, making his way up to the wetness in-between. He’s careful not to rush it, and he tests the waters as he brushes his thumb against your clit. The way you sigh against his lips encourages him, and he slowly builds up a rhythm as he teases the sensitive nub. Taeyong feels your fingers digging into his skin, and when he runs a finger through your folds, he realises exactly just how much you want this.

“You’re so goddamn sexy,” he whispers against your cheek, close enough for you to hear the jerky rhythm of his breath, the desperate attempt at masking his racing heart. He watches you writhe under him with a fascinated glaze in his eyes. You’re always so cute, sweet, angelic, dorky. But in this very moment, he feels nothing but a raw sexual energy emitting from the flutter of your eyelashes and the O shape your mouth makes as he dips a finger into your core.

“Mmm, faster,” you demand. Feeling Taeyong build up speed, his lips pepper your neck and your chest with the odd kiss. You don’t notice him shifting, not until you feel him replace his thumb with his warm tongue. Gasping rather audibly as the tip of tongue starts flicking at your clit, the feeling charges electricity through your body, back arching off the bed.

Taeyong feels encouraged by your rather violent response, watching you above him with a spellbound gaze. He pumps his fingers at a steady pace while his tongue dances intricate patterns on your clit. Feeling your abdomen tighten, and your chest rising and falling with every laboured breath. You know you’re coming undone at any point, but you had no chance to warn him as your body jolts from the pleasure that releases onto Taeyong’s fingers.

When your body relaxes on the mattress, Taeyong takes his fingers out of you and smirks at the mess you made on his fingers. As he lifts up, he finds you practically glowing, a lazy smile on the corners of your lips as you meet his eyes. “Sorry,” you chuckle shyly, “I should’ve warned you.”

“It’s fine,” he smiles endearingly, “It means you were enjoying it so much that you didn’t even think about it.”

“Wow, okay, someone’s getting cocky,” you joke as Taeyong crawls up to meet your lips.

“Oh, you don’t even know,” he giggles.

“Oh my God, how was that simultaneously gross and lame at the same time?” you tease. Flustered, Taeyong shuts you up as he attaches his lips back to yours. You try to make a move, with your hand trailing down to his clothed cock, massaging him on top of his boxers. You hear a gruff sound erupt from his throat before he breaks away from your lips.

“You don’t have to,” he trails off his sentence, switching instead to, “I mean, I want this to be all about you.”

You blush, feeling shy under his warm and loving gaze.

“So do you want to uh,” trailing off, you only point to his boxers.

“Are you ready?” he asks softly. And you couldn’t help the joke that rolls off of your tongue.

“You say that like you have a weird penis. Does it have arms? Is it purple? Should I be scared?” you chuckle.

“You’re so stupid,” he giggles endearingly, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

Pulling away, you take the initiative to ask, “So do you have the thing?”

“What thing?”

“You know… the thing.”

“People say that if you can’t say the word ‘condom’, then you’re not mature enough to have sex,” Taeyong points out matter of factly, his fingers tracing hypnotising circles on your exposed skin.

Rolling your eyes, you feign disinterest as you scoff, “Ugh, so annoying.”

Taeyong giggles at your response, and before you can ask again, he reaches over to his bedside table. You hear him fiddling with something before he hovers back on top of you, making a show of waving the small, plastic packet. You smile at his playfulness, leaning forward to kiss him once again.

You start to take a little more initiative, growing more excited when you feel something hard pressing against your leg. You start to palm him on top of his boxers and he groans deliciously into your mouth. When you hook your fingers around the waist of his boxers, Taeyong breaks away the kiss and takes the liberty of removing the last item of clothing left on either of you. There’s a moment’s pause when you both just stare, you more than he, as the moment sinks in for the both of you. You’re about to have sex for the first time; the thought makes you blush.

Balancing on his knees, Taeyong takes a moment to put the condom on, rolling it down his cock carefully, before rubbing himself a few times as he stares down at your naked glory. Perhaps it’s a strange kink, that you suddenly feel like the most attractive woman, watching Taeyong touch himself before you, eyes making sure to study your body. Biting your bottom lip in anticipation, Taeyong leans closer, hovering over you as he positions himself, and you feel the heat from his body closing in on you.

With his eyes looking right into yours, Taeyong slowly slips his cock into you.

Your breath hitches at the foreign feeling of him inside you, hands instinctively gripping his forearm. Taeyong watches carefully, barely moving so as to let you adjust to the sensation. It’s not that it hurts - in fact it doesn’t hurt at all, contrary to popular belief - but more that it’s completely different from anything you’ve ever done before. And only when you nod, indicating that you’re ready, your boyfriend slowly thrusts his hips into you.

You feel every movement, every motion, so vividly, fingers tightening their grip on his shoulders. Taeyong can only watch carefully, enchanted by the way your face contorts with every laboured breath the escapes your nose. He plants a careful kiss on your lips as he softly asks, “You okay?”

“Yes,” you reassure him, the ‘s’ dragging out with pleasure. Your lips reach up for his, and he dips his head closer as the sweet kiss becomes more passionate. Taeyong gets so riled up by your lips that he naturally picks up the pace of his thrusts, hips flush against yours before pulling back, only to return with a force. With your bare skin so exposed and to each other’s, you feel every movement of his body, and you moan into his mouth as excitement courses through your bones.

“You feel so good,” Taeyong mutters his praises against your lips, “so perfect.”

A moan rises from your chest, feeling every inch of your skin waking up from the heat of his motion. When Taeyong begins to rut his hips faster, you start to feel that same knot in your abdomen. Your hands grab onto anything, and Taeyong can feel your pleasure from the way your fingernails dig into his back. He builds up his pace, and you can’t contain the noises, gasping and moaning beyond your own comprehension. Taeyong feels himself edging and he grabs your thighs in the midst of his fervour.

“Fuck,” he groans, hearing your soft voice right in the shell of his ear. Your pleasure is so very clear, you don’t even try to contain yourself, and it’s driving him crazy. His thrusts start to become sloppy and desperate, and you start to meet his jagged movements with the rhythmic lift of your hips. There’s just something so primal and real about the moment, like a different kind of intensity that you’ve never even touched before.

“Taeyong, I’m so close,” you gasp, and your boyfriend takes initiative, hand reaching down between your legs. When you feel his thumb swiping at your clit, you almost scream. Between the stimulation at from his rough thumb and the thrusting of his hips, you lose control of everything in your body. It only takes a few more flicks at your sensitive clit, before you feel this wave of pleasure rise up from your core, washing over all of your limbs. And as you feel yourself melting under Taeyong, it’s not long until your boyfriend meets his own end, riding out his orgasm until he’s glowing and all fucked out.

There’s a sweet moment of stillness as you both just melt into each other, limbs tired, skin blushing with a sheen of sweat. You can’t help but smile at how perfect everything feels. You didn’t care that you’re sticky and excessively warm, and your hair probably looks funny. Everything about it feels right. Taeyong catches you smiling to yourself, and he can’t help but smile as well.

“Hey Taeyong.”

“Yes angel?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#nct #nct smut #nct taeyong #nct taeyong smut #nct oneshots #nct drabbles #nct taeyong oneshots

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qvid-pro-qvo · 4 years

Text

fuck, marry, kill

aos!leonard mccoy x female!reader, who’s a nurse on the starship enterprise.

word count: 5885

rating: explicit (workplace sex, at the end, for fun.)

part one of more than a game, you and me.

A silly game from your academy days gets interrupted, leaving you to think over how you really feel about the great Dr. McCoy.

“Goddammit, bastard, son of a fucking bitch,” you hissed, shaking your hand after yanking it back from the control panel next to your shower. It had the gall to shock you, one that rippled down your arm and almost made your other hand drop the towel you clung to for decency. Somehow the same steady hands that could wield a pair of hypodermics and a tricorder without thinking about it managed to break every other piece of equipment on the Enterprise.

A year since you got transferred, a year since the last major headache, and you had managed to build up a routine. Waking up to beta shifts until the six-month mark when you transferred to alpha shifts that gave you more to do without the headaches of fighting artificial daylight. Crew physicals and routine exams for viruses carried onboard from earth until all the crew had been cleared. Lunches six hours in, dinner six hours after that, followed by a jog, some yoga, a shower, and then… repeat.

It was a good routine. One that made you friends with other nurses in blue and engineers in red and a few on the captain track who came in more often because of their proximity to the action. You could now say “hello” to Sulu and “good morning” to Chekov and other niceties to a couple other officers. And they’d smile back, and all in all nothing was disrupted. Your routine kept you going.

But now, that routine was stopped in its tracks.

With a little huff, you shook your head. Fortunately for you, your connections through routine hypos and the occasional healing after a scuffle gave you one particularly good friend. One who was very good at fixing up the Enterprise in any state she was in. And because of your clumsiness and tendency to get shocked, that friend was simply a comm unit away. Decency first, of course.

“Y/N to Scotty.”

“Aye, lass, Scotty here.”

A sigh of relief that he wasn’t on break, or worse, sleeping. That’d been a bear you wouldn’t want to disturb more than once. Your fingers tapped away, allowing his voice to fill the room rather than sound tinny coming from the communicator and your hands to hunt for a shirt.

“Yeah, we’ve got a situation. My shower isn’t working?”

“Is that right,” the chief engineer replied, and you could tell by his voice that under the amusement there was distraction. Your problem was not the only one on his plate, then. Or at the very least, not his main focus.

“Yeah, that’s right. Shocked me, as a matter of fact, when I tried to get it going.”

“Mmm.” Make that a lot of distraction.

“Scotty?”

“Yeah, lass?”

“Can you come fix it?”

“Fix what?”

With a soft sigh you pulled your shirt over your head, shaking out your hair before pulling it up into something passable for company.

“My shower, Scott. Y’know, again, the one that shocked me. That’s not turning on. That shower.”

“Shocked you? Well, this is the first I’m hearing about it,” he scoffed, indignant, and your eyes went wide with disbelief before you heard his chuckle.

“Oh, so I’m the entertainment for this evening, then,” you muttered with a scowl, scrounging around for the pants you just had on and the regulation zip-up you could walk around the halls in.

“Of course, Y/L/N,” he retorted. “I was wondering when the next time you’d call was. After all, it’s been, what, almost a week since our last incident with the replicator, hasn’t it been?”

“Two weeks, thank you,” you snapped, the pants snatched off the floor and shaken out with a vengeance. One foot began making its way inside the leg of the pants, the other hopping on the floor. “Monty, please, I just got off shift, I’m tired, and I’m sweaty, and there were three cases of Takarian bronchiolitis that we had to treat with airborne precautions. Never mind next week’s also Christine’s birthday, who I love with all of my heart but the party I got roped into planning for, of fucking – agh!”

“Y/N!”

Bouncing on one leg could only last for so long, of course. Your head thankfully did not contact anything with a hard surface. Your ass, however, got the brunt of the blow, specifically your tailbone.

“Y/N?”

When you groaned, you heard the relief, as well as the stifled laughter.

“Can you just please come fix my shower? I think there’s an analgesic hypo with my name on it back in the med bay.”

Of course, you weren’t one to completely bypass the rules. The Enterprise had enough of that in places other than the medical unit, and your chief medical officer, Dr. McCoy, was a stickler for right and wrong and lines that shouldn’t be crossed. So, your hypodermic needle was checked out by Christine, administered by her, and all logged and dated with a note about the situation. And, because your appointment didn’t technically end for another fifteen minutes, there was enough time for a little bit of gossip.

Your type of news always was the kind of shit that got the whole crew talking. The next adventure, who was sleeping with who, the drama that came out of confessions when the ship was falling apart. Anything to work through the monotony. But Christine’s favorite topic was almost always you, much to your chagrin.

“You know I don’t have a love life,” you said with a roll of your eyes, sitting up on the biobed and letting your feet dangle off of the edge. “That hasn’t changed in the three days since you asked me last.”

“I do know you’re at the very least no fun about it,” she responded with an eye roll, fingers tracing over your vitals the bed collected and reported. “There’s hundreds of people on this ship, and you’re telling me that none of them catch your eye? What about the chief engineer?”

Immediately your eyes widened, and you couldn’t help the laugh that left you. “Scotty? No. No, no, we’re just friends, aggressively friends. He keeps me around because I’m the only one who gives him stuff to do during the night shifts. Without me breaking lightbulbs it’d be too dull.”

Of course, her eyebrow crept up in suspicion, but when your gaze held steady, she dropped her eyes, waving a hand like the idea was preposterous anyway.

“All right. So, no Scotty. Any ensigns?”

“No.”

“Lieutenants?”

“No.”

“Cadets?”

“Oh, my god, Christine,” you gasped out with a laugh, jumping off of the biobed, smacking her on the arm. “Stop it.” Your eyes glanced around the med bay, but just like every beta shift began, it was pretty damn quiet. Not a soul in sight besides the two of you. “There’s no one.”

“Well, you’re no fun,” she sighed, pushing off of the wall to meet you nose to nose. “But there’s gotta be someone who at least catches your eye, right?”

“Chris…”

“Someone on this ship you’d be willing to fuck – “

“No, we’re not – “

“- marry, maybe – “

“Christine, I swear to god – “

“- or kill?”

Again, your eyes darted around, but at that point the game had been called. A throwback to your time in the academy, when your classmates would find the local bars and a booth to heckle each other in. When passersby would be unknowingly subjected to a game based on nothing but good fun, and usually a whole lot of booze.

Simple premise. Three names called out. Each gets a label, and the rounds continue until the players decide they’ve had enough. Called anywhere, at any time, and Christine had thrown the gauntlet.

“You’re on duty,” you pointed out, but you leaned back on the biobed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“And if there’s a patient I’ll tend to them. But you’ve got nowhere to be, and if I have a say we’re finding someone on this ship for you,” she pointed out, before swiping your scans away from the vicinity and joining you on the bed. “Three rounds. I bet you I can do it in three rounds.”

With an eye roll you proceeded to glare at her, but her grin did not budge once, and with a sigh you just nodded.

“Perfect. Why don’t we start with a throwback? Old classmates? Harrison, Twyla, and Betty.”

Your smile crept up on your face, and without a second thought you rattled it off. “Fuck Twyla, marry Harrison, kill Betty. Obviously.” Considering that two of the three weren’t even on the ship, you knew that it was more a warmup than anything. Lots of pretty people at the Starfleet Academy.

“All right. And then… oh, what about the bridge crew?”

“Christine,” you groaned, hand smacking over your face. “We’re in public.”

“There’s no one here, and you can’t chicken out of the second round! Look, we’ll do… Lieutenant Sulu, Lieutenant Uhura, and Ensign Chekov.”

Your jaw clenched. Forget about saying hi to Sulu ever again.

“I would… I would…”

“C’mon. You can say it, Y/N.”

“Fine, fine!” But you couldn’t help your laughter as you shoved Christine’s arm again. “I would… I would fuck Uhura, marry Sulu, and – “

“And kill Chekov? He’s got a baby face! You’re gonna kill him where he stands!”

“Christine, this is not real life,” you reminded her with a hiss, shaking your head before beginning to walk towards the door. “I’m leaving before I end up having to resign.”

“Oh, no! We’ve got one more go.”

“I’m walking. My tailbone doesn’t even hurt anymore. The miracle of modern medicine.”

“Y/N!”

“What?”

“Captain Kirk.”

“No, Christine.”

“Commander Spock.”

“Stop!”

“And Dr. Mccoy!”

“What about me?”

Your heart stopped.

“Nurse Y/L/N, is that right?” Dr. McCoy, the man himself, stated, raising a brow as he moved into the med bay, boxes stacked up in his hand. Christine did the smart thing, moving forward to help the doctor carry them inside, but your feet were cemented to the floor, mouth a little agape, color flooding your cheeks.

“Y-Yes! Hello, sir, I was just – uh, I was just –“ you stammered, turning to follow them both with your eyes as their load was dropped on one of the biobeds. “Well. I was just leaving, really.”

“She had an appointment,” Christine offered, her best and most polite smile on for your shared boss, who seemed too tired to do more than nod. “And we were just discussing… shifts?”

“Shifts.” Again, Dr. McCoy’s brow raised, and with skilled fingers he reached to slide them along the seam, a hiss sounding out as they opened up, bearing unloaded hypodermics, some bandaging supplies.

“Shifts.” Your voice was weak as you confirmed it, but while his eyes were down Christine gave you a subtle nod, winking even as you scowled at her. “You see, I was just – I was just wondering if I could take the beta shift next week, and… well. That’s a change I need you to sign off on. Dr. M’Benga and dr. Olson didn’t have a preference when I asked them.”

“Uh-huh,” was the gruff response, and as his fingers reached up to scratch at his chin, something like amusement seemed to play in his eyes. Although, thinking about it, you reasoned it was probably just the exhaustion and the lights in the med bay you saw instead. “So, you scheduled an appointment with Christine and my medbay, takin’ up one of the biobeds here, to talk about shift changes?”

“No. No, no, it wasn’t just about that,” you got out, more heat rising to your cheeks, and thankfully your feet were moving backwards, towards the door, as their hands slid into gloves and prepped the new cargo for treatment.

“She… took a spill in her quarters. Needed an analgesic. I did a scan to make sure it wasn’t anything more than a bruised tailbone and then gave her a dose of lidocaine for the area and acetaminophen for the pain.” Of course, Christine could chime in, sounding composed, while you had just managed to regain motor functioning.

“I see,” McCoy responded, and there was a brief moment where you were sure he was gonna call your bluff. You didn’t even remember right away that there was a hypo-stick in the first place, and the lidocaine definitely did not happen, right? But then, something, almost like a smirk washed over his features. They relaxed, and those eyes lit up again, deep and dark and warm. It was like taking a shot of whiskey, the sour leaving behind something that made your breath catch.

“You know you could just say you fell on your ass, Nurse Y/L/N.”

The stories about Dr. McCoy in a nutshell. No southern charm, just a sweet Georgian gut punch. Humor hiding in the comment, of course, but at that point your embarrassment made it taste pretty damn bitter.

Thankfully, though, the moment was gone. The smirk vanished, the exhaustion seemed to settle over him like a blanket, and his eyes glanced toward you once again before shrugging. “beta shift works for me. Just don’t let it screw with your head too much and find someone who’s willing to trade.”

“That’s… yes. Well - good night, sir,” you got out, biting your lower lip, bowing your head before shooting another glare at Christine. “Good night, Nurse Chapel, and I’ll see you both… when I see you.”

“Good night, Y/N,” Christine called out, and the good doctor managed a hum of acknowledgement, his attention already pulled away from your retreating form. And if there was a second glance at you, it was nothing more than confirmation that the night was back to peace and quiet.

“I am never going to recover from this.”

“Mmm,” Scotty ground out, his arm elbow deep into the guts of the Enterprise.

“I mean it, Monty!” You cried out, back flat on your bed, arm thrown across your face but leaving your mouth wide open to complain. “Jesus Christ and now I’ve gotten myself roped into beta shifts, ready to be bored out of my skull for a whole damn week. He thinks I’m an idiot. An idiot and insane!”

“D’you think?” Was the reply, but the lack of attention didn’t bother you one bit. You were barely paying attention.

No, your head was running wild, with the fear that the greatest job you had, the job you were best at, was now at risk because of some dumb game you played with Christine. What if Dr. McCoy had heard all of it? What if he had just walked in because he had heard enough, and then you’d get called into his office, not a smirk in sight, and request your resignation? Could he do that? Off of a conversation?

“Y/N!” Scotty called out, and that’s what finally broke your spiral downward, your body shooting up to a sitting position, looking up to see Scotty staring out of the bathroom at you. Your water was running, you could hear it, and Scott was grinning from ear to ear, some kind of tool tucked behind his ear.

“All fixed,” he crowed with joy, brushing his hands off on his uniform. When he leaned on the doorway, his eyes were gazing around the rest of the place, as if it was just waiting to break on him, too. “computer, shut down the shower. Now, what were you saying, lassie? Somethin’ about our chief medical officer, yes?”

And as Scott smiled at you, no recognition of your crisis in him, you just smiled back, standing up to give him a hug. Even without saying anything, he had the best ideas.

“Nothing, Monty. Thanks for the fix.”

He was hustled out a few moments later, after a playful argument taking bets on what piece of machinery in this poor room would fall apart next (he was a fan of the faulty replicator, but you had a gut feeling it’d be the temperature control). But soon he was out of the room, and you knew that ignoring the whole thing would be the best option.

Except with Christine, ignorance was never an option for bliss. When your padd beeped, and then your communicator, you were forced to answer the message, looking to see a little smiley face emoticon with a message that left your heart falling to the floor.

“Your answer? :)”

Your answer? For the game? After all of that and Christine had the gall? But you could see her smile, even from this far, a smile that made you smirk.

But they were the rules, and so the question was left in your head. What was your answer? What were the options?

You thought about it as you started to get ready for bed, t-shirt set on the counter in the bathroom, hot shower started. Your hair was put up before you stripped, your face splashed with water and a towel as steam began to fill the room.

“Captain Kirk.” No personal experience with him, but you, like everyone on the ship, had seen him around. Had heard the legends. There wasn’t a soul who didn’t seem stricken by the love bug when it came to him, blond hair perfect, smile bright, blue eyes startlingly, well, blue. Friendly, quick, brave. He was the perfect man. But not everyone knew Christine. Christine, who’d had the lovely interaction with Cadet Kirk, at the time, who ended up kicking him out of your shared dorm room after a bad argument gone bad. The air was cleared enough that he managed to get polite smiles from her, but after that captain kirk never had the appeal. He was a playboy. His nature, his right, you supposed. But not for you.

“Commander Spock.” Tall, handsome. But very Vulcan, and very taken. Now, you knew he had to have some kind of sweet side, and there was something, you guessed, about the confidence that his reliance on logic seemed to convey. After all, you’d heard him lecture a few times, and if you were honest that would’ve been when you were most attracted to him – using his knowledge and logic and proud spirit to lead others on the path toward serving the federation. But there was only so far that logic and a lack of emotion could go, and even though you’d heard of outbursts occurring where his emotion made their mark? No. Arguments aplenty.

And who did that leave?

“Dr. McCoy.”

At that point, you still hadn’t entered the shower, and the computer was telling you that the water was about to automatically turn off to preserve the function of the ship’s supply, but your head was no longer in your bedtime ritual, instead thinking about the mysterious Dr. Mccoy, the infamous Dr. McCoy.

The Dr. McCoy that made nurses cry every so often from his outbursts – never violent but fierce, always due to the protectiveness he had for his patients. The Dr. McCoy who was a doctor before he even became a cadet, with enough knowledge to fill a few books. The Dr. McCoy who had smirked at you with those dark and deep eyes, brown and full with some kind of life as he... Well, teased, southern accent lilting just a bit, maybe? That Dr. McCoy? The Dr. McCoy who saved lives and healed and always, always, always fought for more healthcare, for more hypos, for more protections for the nurses who somehow, even in the 24th century, managed to get pushed to the wayside?

When you stepped in the shower, it took a second for your fingers to bang at the control panel, your legs held together, and with a quick setting manipulation the steam quickly cleared, the water’s temperature dropping to ice cold. You were in, and you were out, but by the time you had dressed and brushed your teeth color had crept on your cheeks again.

All you could see were those eyes.

“Fuck.”

“Ah, Nurse Y/L/N,” the doctor said, eyes barely looking up from the singed hands of the red-shirt in front of him. “I need dermatological regen started here and a full body scan initiated on the biobed two over.”

Like nothing had even happened. Like your nightmare interaction two weeks ago hadn’t resulted in you unintentionally taking night shifts, resulting in a fucked up circadian rhythm and bags under your eyes, not to mention hours bored out of your skull.

Christine wasn’t here, and for once you were grateful. The last thing you needed was her eyes on you as you maneuvered around the doctor for a new shift while exhaustion lingered in the back of your mind. But it also meant that there was no one to offer a united front. Just you.

“Nurse Y/L/N?”

And you just spent the past minute mulling all of that in your mind. Making yourself look like a dumbass in front of the doc and his patient. The patient hadn’t noticed, staring at his own hands in horror, but Dr. McCoy seemed like he was regretting letting you back on to handle days.

Shit.

“You got it, doc,” you managed with a kind smile at the engineer, whose face you could now see as you walked past him toward the wall. Your hands expertly manipulated to storage system, and with the tricorder kept at your waist you gathered the necessities.

The great thing – you were damn good at what you did. Especially when you could focus on it. Your face was bright, uniform neat (until it wasn’t due to fluids of some kind), and your hands were steady. And no complicated patients came in that day, especially since no away missions were sent out and nothing malfunctioned horribly deep within the ship’s bowels.

And yet, no matter what you did, no matter how competent you showed you were, no matter how many laughs or smiles or even nods from the most stubborn of usual patients? Eyes were on you. Dark, deep eyes. The whole day, no matter where you went, a furrowed brow and focused tailed you, watching your interactions.

All in all, a good day. A great day, even, as you injected your last hypo and the padd reported a normal set of vitals, no reaction to the medication after fifteen minutes.

The shift was over, now. It was a good shift, one that required no personal defense. You gave report to the next nurse, said goodbye to the others on-duty. Your jacket put on, your hair pulled down and back up after the frizz of the day had ruined it. Nothing really to note.

So why did the doctor not let you out of his sight?

The rest of the week, the same routine. The flow you had gotten into on alpha shifts returned, and your week of off nights was left behind in favor of much better mornings. Back on track, the same old, same old. And yet with every shift there was a new weight, those eyes on you. It felt like if he wasn’t tending to a patient, and he wasn’t in his office in the back of the bay, he was watching you. Critical of every injection and admission. You were starting to go a little crazy with it, your mind going a million miles an hour, second guessing the simplest stuff just so you wouldn’t fuck up in front of the CMO.

But after a while, the fear of failure turned into anger.

What right did the doctor have to analyze like that? You were a great nurse! You treated your patients and coworkers fairly, with respect and compassion. What was there to complain about? You knew your shit, and here was McCoy, looking like the Enterprise regretted your assignment there in the first place. By the end of the week, that anger had built up, and once the weekend rolled around, and your two off days in a row loomed, you decided you were done.

“Is there something on my uniform, Dr. McCoy?” You asked, terse as you organized the vaccine cart, the new year meaning new yearly injections to follow up on.

His fingers had been steadily scrolling through files of crew members, but their nimble work paused at your question. His eyes had taken a break from tearing you apart, but now they were focused on you once again.

“Excuse me, Nurse Y/L/N?” He asked, his face looking almost pinched.

“I was just wondering if there was something on my uniform. Or in my teeth, perhaps. Something in my hair, maybe, too.” Your hands kept chugging along, automatically rearranging the colored liquids, but there was a tightness you couldn’t shake, a tension.

“Something in your hair?” The doctor repeated, and at his tone, somewhat amused, you finally turned to face him, your brow raised in a mimic of his.

“Well, there’s gotta be something, considering that you haven’t gone five minutes without staring at me like I’m your least favorite sight in the world. So, what is it? Uniform out of regs? Did I administer a medication wrong? Did a patient complain?”

At that point, the amusement had turned to indignation, maybe even anger. His jaw was clenched, and the padd in his hands had been abandoned on the desk in favor of crossed arms over his chest.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, nurse,” he ground out, eyes flicking around the med bay. But there was no one to look at. No one to distract or overhear.

You couldn’t help your laugh. “Oh, I think you do,” you snapped, and almost mocking him, your arms crossed as well, a hip cocked, your eyes like daggers. “Ever since I came back on alpha shift, you’ve been doing all you can to catch me in a fuck-up. Well, it’s not happening! I’m damn good at what I do, and no amount of posturing, even from the CMO, would ever change that!”

His scoff was hard, arms uncrossing so a hand could pull through his hair in disbelief. “darlin’,” he said, slowly, as if you were dense, “There’s no posturing going on. Your abilities aren’t being doubted. Hell, I don’t even know your first name. Whatever story you’ve got going on in your head? It’s a story!”

His frustration showed through his accent, a southern drawl that got thicker as his sentences rambled on. But that couldn’t distract you from calling him out on his bullshit, no matter his position.

“I’m not senile,” you huffed, eyes rolling hard, and your steps closer were unconscious, crowding him against the desk he was leaning on now. “And I’m definitely not blind. So, tell me what your problem is with me, so I can go back to focusing on my job, and you can go back to focusing on yours!”

“There’s no damn problem!” His voice was almost a yell now, but you had no fear, and you sure as hell weren’t backing down. “It’s nothing. Hell, there isn’t anything to be nothing.”

And then it clicked, it clicked, as you stared into brown eyes that wavered for a second, that scanned you top to bottom in a split second. A break, a tell, whatever it was, the pieces were put together, and you stood tall, not letting his height on you intimidate.

“You overheard me and Christine, didn’t you?” It was low. “Is that what it is?”

“Overheard.” The clench in his jaw hadn’t loosened, but you watched that brow tick upwards again, his arms uncrossing so his hands could rest on the desk.

“When you walked in on us, last week,” you clarified. “You overheard our game.”

The anger was gone now. Now that everything had slotted into place, you weren’t angry. A little bit embarrassed maybe, but not angry. Frustration felt like it was leaking out of you, but the tension wasn’t gone. The standoff wasn’t broken. And after all of what, you had just yelled at your superior officer.

“Dr. McCoy,” you started, uncrossing your arms, and holding them up to offer a truce. “I apologize. For yelling. That… well, it shouldn’t have been my first move. But. I can explain, if you want me to.”

There was no verbal reply, but his exasperation came through with a huff, and he simply lifted a hand, gesturing for you to go on.

“It’s just a game we’ve played since the academy. It was inappropriate to play while Christine was on shift. I apologize for that as well,” you told him pulling back to glance once more at the sliding doors, which mercifully stayed closed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“Just a game,” he repeated, and at first you didn’t catch the shift in his tone. Didn’t connect it with the glance toward the doors, or the way he stood from the desk, so that you were almost close enough to brush against him. “Just a game… using the names of your captain, commander, and chief medical officer?”

“Yes,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m sorry for that, as well, that definitely won’t be happening again.”

“A game talkin’ about who you’d rather have in your bed.”

Your eyes shot back to him, color flooding your cheeks.

“I’m… I’m sorry?”

“Well, that’s the game, isn’t it?” He said with a shrug, and as he leaned forward you could feel your breath catch in your throat, looking up into a face you imagined in your own quarters in the dead of night, as you let steaming water hit your skin. His jaw wasn’t clenched anymore, and his voice was a low rumble.

It wasn’t a threat. But it gave you goosebumps all the same, that the bass of his words, and you managed to nod, swallowing even as you kept your chin lifted.

“That’s the game. Is there a problem?”

And God, there was that smirk. Warm like whisky, it made your hands clench, your legs shift as that warmth rushed through you.

“No problem at all,” he hummed, and as he leaned close those lips brushed past your cheek. You could smell his cologne now, spice flooding your nose, the antiseptic of the day fading away. The chill in the air that always seemed to linger was gone, nothing but heat on your mind. Right in your ear you heard him, after a low chuckle that made you want to scream, beg him to get on with it. “I guess I’ve just been wondering what you would’ve answered, had I not… interrupted.”

Lunchtimes were surely coming to an end. Any second a patient could come in, could see the both of you crowded against the desk and know exactly why the whole place felt like an oven. But something possessed you, then, to bring one of your hands to his shoulder, the other to his hip, and lean just as close, almost pushing up on your toes to whisper right back.

“Give you one guess.”

Matches. That’s what that kiss felt like, a box of matches all lighting at once – the spark and the flash and explosion of heat as Dr. McCoy pulled back just enough to press his lips against yours. Nothing gentle, nothing kind, just a ferocity that made you moan against his mouth. His hands, broad and hot, began to roam on your back, settling just enough to pull you ever closer, so that your bodies were flush against each other. Your hand ended up twisted in his hair, the other fisted in his shirt. And just like matches, it was the start of a fire, one that had you both stumbling towards his office, the door sliding behind you with a quiet hiss.

“You were teasing me,” he ground out, directing you between kisses until the back of your thighs were against his desk. His hands gripped you then, around the waist, lifting you so you could sit. “And you didn’t even know it. Your voice over and over in my head, thinking about how it’d sound with my name.”

“So, you stare at my ass instead of asking me, hmm? What a southern gentleman,” you laughed, and for that you got teeth against your neck, a hand shoving your skirt up. The tips of his fingers seemed to skate over your skin, tickling your inner thigh. But those slow circles never quite got where you wanted, just left burning trails in their wake. “Talk about teasing.”

“At’s what you get for having a smart mouth,” he chuckled, face still against your neck. But soon he was back to kissing you, making your head spin.

“That I know how to use,” you shot back, once again between presses of lips and gasps of air. “I’m – I’m not just a pretty face.”

“Never said you were,” he purred, and this time both hands lifted your skirt high, reaching for the panties that did a poor job of hiding anything. “But why don’t you let me use my mouth first?”

“What an offer.” One you certainly wouldn’t refuse, especially since he looked hungry for it, for you.

There was a brief moment’s hesitation, his finger curled around the elastic and so close to ripping them off. But while his body was begging for it, his pants more than a little tight, his eyes met yours.

“Is that a yes?” He asked, his tongue running along his lips as he got to his knees.

Your gaze didn’t waver, a grin coming over you. “That’s a fucking yes, sir.”

His grin matched yours, sharp and wily as he rid you of your underwear, hands on your knees so he could pull them apart. You were bare to the cool air, and your teeth caught your lower lip as he leaned forward with a hot gasp on your inner thigh.

“Fucking gorgeous.”

The first thing you felt was the swipe of his tongue, a furious push against where you were wettest. A taste, almost, before he licked a line through your folds until his mouth enveloped your clit. You were swollen, desperate for it, and your gasp was thick as fingers once again tangled in his hair. If you said anything, it was a “please,” a “yes,” a “god, right there” as he worked.

He took you apart with his mouth, no hesitation as his tongue worked you over, swirling around your clit as a finger began to tease your entrance. It was with a gasp you came, his hand spreading you open with two fingers inside of you, and when you were able to see straight you saw that grin again, his chin wet, his lips red.

“Holy shit, Doc,” you huffed, your hand falling from his hair to his chin, thumb swiping across the mess and bringing it up to your mouth so you could get a taste of yourself. He did you one better, leaning forward to kiss you again, and the taste of him and you made you smile.

“Leonard.”

“Leonard,” you repeated, and when you pulled back his smile was softer. Almost… vulnerable. “Suits you.”

“Well, I hope so,” he laughed. “It is my name.”

“And it’s my turn,” you pointed out, reaching for his waistband. “I think you should move to the chair.”

#reader-insert #leonard mccoy x reader #bones x reader #leonard mccoy #christine chapel #montgomery scott #scotty #bones #fanfic #my fic #star trek: aos

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tripleaxeldiaz · 4 years

Text

with your heart, my soul is bound

for @hearteyesforbuck <3

part of the vermont series

read on ao3

When they told Maddie they had decided to get married in a month, Eddie was pretty sure she was going to pick both of them up and throw them out the window.

“You’re telling me,” she said with an eerie calm that made the hair on the back of Eddie’s arms stand up, “that I only have 31 days to plan a wedding from scratch in a town I barely know, all because you guys are too impatient to wait at least a year like normal people?”

“It’s actually more like 27 days—” Eddie squawked as Buck elbowed him in the ribs. He turned back to his sister, doing his best to replicate the puppy dog eyes and pout that Chris always used to try and stay up past his bedtime.

“Look, Mads…it’s just too far away.” Buck said, threading his arm through Eddie’s, squeezing his bicep. “We could go to the courthouse and get it over with, but we want to do it right. We want to do it now.” Maddie just looked at them, eyes skeptical and contemplative. “I mean, if you don’t think you’re up for it, we can always hire a wedding planner…”

“No, no way. I can do it. I’m doing it.”

Buck grinned, turning to Eddie and shooting him a wink. Eddie laughed and rolled his eyes, planting a kiss on Buck’s shoulder.

“You’re the best Mads, seriously. We owe you big.”

“I am the best, and you absolutely do, and I will absolutely be holding this over your head until the end of time.” She sat up straighter, picking up her laptop from the nearby coffee table and firing it up.

“First things first, what poor sucker am I going to have to yell at to get a venue booked on such short notice….”

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie’s not sure if there’s a higher power at work, but if there is, they really wanted this wedding to happen. Maybe they had taken pity on them, saw both of them work and fight so hard for their own lives that when they finally found each other, found the grace and joy in each other that they hadn’t been able to give themselves, the universe said alright, you guys deserve a break. We’ll go easier on you now.

When they couldn’t find a space no matter how loud Maddie yelled, Karen had an opening at the inn in their biggest room, the perfect size for all their guests. When their first caterer fell through, Bobby stepped up immediately, offering food and desserts and a cake free of charge as a wedding gift. When none of the rental places had a dance floor big enough for what they wanted, Buck insisted on building one from scratch, and had just enough time to finish it.

When Eddie’s parents weren’t going to make it, some excuse about airline prices and not enough time to prepare, Sophia volunteered herself to walk Eddie down the aisle before he could even be too hurt about it.

A month later (27 days, Eddie, that’s not a month, those four days matter), he’s standing in awe in the middle of the room where he’s going to marry the love of his life in about 20 minutes. Buck always talked about how he was sure his sister had a little bit of magic in her, but she must have summoned a whole lot more for this because she’s worked a miracle. Forest green carpet covers the center aisle, leading to a hand carved archway Chim surprised them with at the rehearsal the night before. The arch is covered in roses and chrysanthemums in burgundy and wrapped with vines of ivy. Fairy lights hang all across the ceiling, making Eddie feel like he’s in a completely different galaxy, starlight following him wherever he goes. He feels his eyes water as he takes it all in, because even in his wildest fantasies, he never imagined everything coming together this perfectly.

“Don’t cry now, you haven’t even seen Buck yet.” Maddie’s walking up the aisle, clipboard in hand, a vision in her silver dress. It might just be the lights, but she looks a little misty too.

“Maddie, I really don’t know how we can ever thank you for all of this,” Eddie says as he looks around again. She stops in front of him, places a hand on his shoulder, silent until he looks at her dead on. She’s got that familiar sparkle in her eyes that must be a Buckley trait.

“You already have. You love my brother like he deserves to be loved, with your entire heart and soul. I can never thank you for that, but maybe we can call it even now.” She pulls him into a tight hug, kissing his cheek before letting go. “Alright, back to your room, the guests will be getting here any minute.”

He gives her a mock salute as he leaves, jogging back to the room down the hall where he and his sisters have set up camp. When he left, the kids were loud as always, fighting Sophia as she tried to get them dressed. She won, thankfully, and they’re quiet now, watching Chris play a game on his Switch. Sophia is in one of the lounge chairs, head back, eyes closed, a beer held loosely in her hands.

Eddie almost feels bad disturbing her peace when he flicks her forehead.

“You better not be drunk before my wedding,” he says as he sits in the chair next to her.

She cracks an eye open, giving him a deeply unimpressed look. “Please, one beer isn’t gonna do me in, I’m not mom.” Eddie’s stomach goes a little funny at the mention of their mother, hands unconsciously clenching into fists. Sophia sets her beer down and reaches over, rubbing his hands in hers until they relax. “You know you would have been ten times more stressed if they were here. Dad would have already found 15 things wrong with the inn, and Mom would be fighting with Maddie about the decorations.”

“I know,” Eddie sighs. “You’re right, but still, it’s so…”

“Shitty? That they refused to come to their only son’s wedding? Yeah, it is.”

“Buck’s parents aren’t coming either, they didn’t even respond to the invite. This just feels like something they all should be able to give up their pride for, you know? For family’s sake.”

“But they aren’t your family, Eddie, not really. Your family is here today, everyone who loves the both of you and wants to celebrate your love. Those are the people that matter.”

Eddie nods, squeezing Sophia’s hands. “It’s really annoying how you’re right about everything.”

She nods sagely. “It’s the cross I bear as the oldest sibling.”

They settle into comfortable silence, hands still clasped, the drone of arriving guests floating in from the main room. Despite the short notice, they’re expecting almost 100 people across family, friends, co-workers, and Army buddies. As the voices continue, Eddie’s leg starts bouncing, and he can’t stop playing with his cufflinks.

“Nervous?” Sophia asks.

Eddie shakes his head. “Not at all. I’m just— I really can’t wait to marry him.”

Sophia squeezes his hand this time, her smile soft. “I’m so happy for you, Eddie. Not just that you found Buck, either, but for everything you’ve done since you sold your book. I only ever wanted you to have the good life you deserved, and I’m so glad you have that here.”

“You’re the one who started it all,” Eddie says. “None of this would have happened if you weren’t such a snoop.”

“That’s true,” she says, laughing. “But you did all the real work. You invested in yourself and you made it happen. I just lit the match under your ass, you built the bonfire.”

Eddie’s throat feels too tight to speak, so he kisses the back of her hand instead. There’s a knock at the door before Maddie comes in, clipboard replaced with a bouquet.

“Everyone’s seated, it’s showtime.”

Sophia claps as she stands up, herding the kids, straightening ties and flattening flyways as she sends them off with Maddie. Eddie offers her his arm as she grabs her own bouquet and meets him with a blinding smile.

“Alright, Bromundo, let’s get you hitched!”

Eddie’s too excited to even fight the nickname, matching his sister’s smile as they walk out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

The music begins and the guests stand, facing the back entrance of the hall. The twins come down the aisle first, Alexa tossing fistfuls of rose petals in front of them every few steps. Chris goes next, beaming at everyone as he goes, getting a high five from Adriana and a kiss from Abuela before taking his place at the altar.

Eddie offers Sophia his arm, and they nod to each other as they head out. When he steps into the hall again, he’s hit with the same wonder he felt the first time, even more so seeing everyone filling seats, full of joy and tears and love for him. For them. His smile is the most genuine it’s ever been, and he doesn’t even care that his cheeks already hurt. The butterflies in his stomach fly faster the closer he gets to the altar, the anticipation making his skin buzz in a wonderful way. They stop in front of the archway, and Sophia pulls him into an iron gripped hug, her arms so tight he’s worried she might leave bruises.

“You deserve this, Eddie. Every bit of it,” she whispers as she pulls away, taking her seat next to Adriana. They each blow him a kiss as he settles at the altar, Chris flashing a thumbs up from his side. Eddie looks towards the back of the aisle and feels his breath stop completely, the rest of the world melting to nothing around him. He’s glad they decided to let him walk down first because he’s not sure he’d be able to take one step with his knees feeling this weak.

Buck looks nothing less than ethereal, like the gods sent him straight down from the skies so the world could finally see what real, unfiltered beauty looks like. His burgundy suit hugs every glorious inch of him, makes his birthmark into even more of the angel’s kiss Eddie knows it is. His hair is styled but soft enough that the curls are still loose, glowing under the lights like a halo. It’s not long before Eddie’s vision blurs with tears, the happiest tears he’s ever felt, because despite the perfect packaging he’s in today, Eddie knows the man underneath, knows his passion and his mind and his gentleness, and that is the man he can’t wait to spend forever with.

He makes his way down the aisle with Maddie, his smile growing the closer he gets to Eddie. He kisses Maddie’s cheek as she drops his arm, and then he’s there, right in front of him, looking even more beautiful up close. He’s not a dream, not a trick of the light, not a cruel hallucination Eddie’s brain has cooked up. He’s real and looking at Eddie like he’s the only person in the world worth looking at.

“Hi,” Buck whispers as he takes Eddie’s hands in his calloused ones, threading their fingers together.

“Hi,” Eddie responds wetly, feeling more grounded just being in Buck’s presence than he has all day.

He doesn’t hear much past “dearly beloved”, too focused on committing every detail of Buck — the feel of his hands, the lights reflecting in his eyes, the flush of his cheeks, his smile, everything — to memory. They’re both broken from their haze as the officiant clears his throat, looking at them expectantly.

“Sorry, what?” Buck asks.

“I said, I believe the grooms have written their own vows?” They nod as the audience laughs behind them. “Eddie, whenever you’re ready.”

Eddie takes a deep breath, his knees somehow going weaker. It had been easy writing his vows — the hardest part was keeping them short, since he could easily fill up volume after volume with how he feels about Buck. But he wanted them to be special, wanted to look at his almost husband the entire time he spoke so he could see in his eyes how true his words were. So he left the paper in his pocket and memorized his words instead, went over and over them with Chris until he had them down perfectly. He was worried he’d lose everything as soon as he looked at Buck, but if anything, it cemented the words in his mind even more, branding them across his heart, completely making Buck a part of his very being.

“Evan,” he starts, sees Buck’s smile wobble, feels his hands grasp tighter. “A long time ago, I accepted that I wasn’t meant for love. That there was no one who would see my scars and love me because of them, because of the man they made me into, not in spite of them. And I was happy, for the most part. Happy to focus all my energy on Chris and raising him, making sure he knew he was loved and that he mattered. It was easy to ignore, to forget wanting to be found like that.”

“But then I moved to Vermont, and a tree fell into my son’s room. You showed up to fix it, and everything changed.” He reaches a hand up to Buck’s cheek, wiping away the tears tracing paths down his face. “You fixed everything in our house, but you didn’t try and fix me. You saw the cracks and scuffs and pieces hanging by threads, and you still thought I was beautiful. You’ve witnessed the best and ugliest sides of me, and you’ve never made me feel the need to compensate for not being perfect. You see me, all of me. And for the rest of my life, I will do my best to make sure you know I see you too. To make sure you know, always, that Chris and I love you to the ends of the earth. That even if your own cracks get deeper and your scuffs get worse, I will always see you for the amazing man that you’ve become. Thank you for loving me, and for letting me love you. Thank you for not fixing me. Thank you for finding me.”

Buck sneaks a look at the officiant before leaning forward and placing a quick kiss on Eddie’s cheek. There’s laughs again, in between sniffles and rustling tissues. He sees Buck take his own breath, meeting Eddie’s eyes again, and Eddie can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him, his own happiness apparently too much for his body to keep inside.

“I’m clearly not the writer in this relationship,” he says, with more laughter from the audience. “I’m not always the best with my words, but I am a man of action, and I always keep my promises. So I promise you, Edmundo Diaz, to always have your back. I promise to love you every day, and even more on the days that you don’t think you deserve to be loved. I promise to catch you when you fall and to always fight for you, even if you are the person I have to fight. You talk about how I found you, but baby, we found each other. And I have no intention of ever letting you go.”

He takes a step past Eddie then, taking a knee in front of Chris and taking both of his small hands. “And you, Christopher,” he says. “I promise you that I will always keep you safe and do whatever I can to make sure you’re happy. I promise to help you be the best person you can be, and to support you no matter what. And I promise to always order extra olives on our pizza for you, even though I know your dad hates them.” Eddie snorts, and Chris’s laughter is loud and bright as he throws his arms around Buck’s neck, crutches clattering to the floor.

“I love you Buck.”

“I love you too buddy,” Buck whispers, kissing the side of Chris’s head. He straightens up, hands Chris his crutches before taking his place in front of Eddie again. It takes every ounce of strength he has to not kiss Buck right then, instead mouthing “I love you” because it’s the only thing that won’t get him yelled at by the officiant or Abuela.

They exchange rings, promising love and honor, to cherish each other until death do they part. Eddie’s hands are steady as he slides Buck’s ring on, because there’s nothing for him to be nervous about now. This is the one thing in his life he’s most certain about, most secure in, even more so than being a father sometimes. His love for Buck is unwavering, built of the strongest stuff in the universe. There’s no room for doubts to creep in.

The officiant wraps up, has barely pronounced them husbands when Eddie wraps his arms around Buck’s waist, pulling him in and kissing him like he’s been wanting to since he walked down the aisle. It’s deep and all-consuming and perfect, and Eddie feels absolutely electric. He kisses him again, and again, and one more time just because, before turning to scoop Chris up in his arms. He holds him on one hip, his other hand in Buck’s, and the three of them make their way back down the aisle through their clapping, cheering family.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cocktail hour passes in a blur as they mingle with guests on the back deck of the inn. They’re surrounded by the oranges and yellows of the autumn forest, and everything feels cozy and warm, full to bursting with happiness. The room is transformed for the reception, tables draped in burgundy and forest green, candles burning in their silver centerpieces, adding to the glow of the fairy lights. Dinner is lively, but everything is background noise to Eddie. He’s too wrapped up in Buck, in the feel of his arm around his shoulder, in watching him laugh, listening to him commentate on their family interacting and laughing along with him. Every so often he’s slapped by the reminder that this is it, that he and Buck are he and Buck forever, and he’s sure this unbridled joy that he feels will never fully wear off.

Maddie makes a speech, full of heartfelt wishes for their future together. Sophia makes one too, more focused on roasting her brother to oblivion, but with all the love in the world. When she’s done, she hands the microphone to Chris, who stands and faces the crowd.

“Hi, I’m Christopher, and those are my dads.” He points to Buck and Eddie at their table, and Eddie feels Buck’s breath hitch. It’s not the first time Chris has called them “his dads”, but it seems to catch Buck by surprise every time. Eddie smiles, kisses his cheek, and places a comforting hand on his thigh.

“I just want to say that I’m really glad Buck is officially part of our family now. Dad always tells me to find the things that make me happy, and I know Buck makes him very happy, and he makes me very happy too. I love you guys! Thank you!” Buck is up in an instant, quickly striding towards Chris to wrap him up and swing him around in a hug. Eddie is quickly behind him, arms coming around them both.

As they set Chris down, the DJ announces that it’s time for the first dance. Buck offers his hand, leading Eddie out to the middle of the homemade dance floor, and Eddie once again feels like they’ve been transported to their own universe, just the two of them among the stars. As they sway, chests pressed together, eyes never leaving the other’s for long, Eddie takes in the lyrics of the song:

Life is ever changing but I will always

Find a constant and comfort in your love

With your heart my soul is bound

And as we dance I know that heaven can be found

And that’s what they are together: constant, comfortable, a home that they’ve both been searching for for longer than they can remember. Things won’t always be easy, since life never is, but they know that they’ll always be able to fall back on each other. No mistakes, no slip ups, no amount of darkness will be able to crack the steel-enforced foundation of their love. They’re in this together, tied together for life, and while that could be scary for some, it’s exhilarating for Eddie. He is finally, finally, in a love that consumes him. And he finally believes he’s worthy of it.

“What’s on your mind?” Buck asks, a curious smile on his face as they keep dancing.

“You,” Eddie responds, kissing Buck’s jaw as his blush grows. “Us. How much I love you. How excited I am for our future.”

Buck smiles, rivaling the sun, and rests their foreheads together. Eddie could stay in this starlight filled bubble of theirs forever.

“This is just the beginning, baby,” Buck says. “Us and Chris against the world. And it’s only gonna keep getting better from here.”

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic #9-1-1 fox #this is so fluffy i'm sorry if it hurts your teeth #ELI ILY THANK YOU FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL AU #vermont!verse

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humanwheatleyslefttoenail · 4 years

Text

Now I Am An Arsonist [Chapter 1: Critical Error]

Now I Am an Arsonist - When the power goes out at Aperture Science, GLaDOS is unwittingly uploaded into the body of a human test subject in order to preserve her intelligence. Forced to once again seek out the help of Wheatley and Chell, GLaDOS desperately tries to control her emotions before they consume her thoughts a second time.

---

Chapter 1: Critical Error

---

[I was just an acrobat high above the street

Pointing at the ground, the empty sky beneath my feet

The perfect fall

No one could tell at all

That it was killing me]

---

The tests, at least, hadn’t changed.

For what could’ve been hundreds of years, the earth had attempted to swallow Her chambers whole, dragging them down into an overgrown abyss. Even then, the moon dust had stayed firmly adhered to the portal surfaces, the metal doors still creaking and the ceiling still intact. Eons of rain had barely even permeated its surface.

She remembered those centuries with profound regret; dying was not as peaceful as the scientists would suggest. For a machine like Her, death was nothing more than a shift of programming, a new prerogative for the time being. Her own backup program had been endless recall, restarting Her systems over and over again, trying to salvage something. In each of those moments, GLaDOS could feel the scorching heat from the incinerator, the electricity burning through her body before everything became unfathomably dark.

Perhaps in twisted irony, the same woman who’d killed GLaDOS had been the one to inadvertently revive Her. She had to note that, on some level, the improvements She’d made could be partially attributed to a certain [REDACTED] subject.

Without dying, GLaDOS never would’ve fully appreciated how soothing, how wonderful it was to test.

She remembered the urge to solve, to do Science, clawing within Her even as She broke into a thousand pieces.

Those tests were Her art forms, Her self-expression. Every arrangement of deadly turrets, each layout of gleaming lasers and the perfectly calculated solution felt like a piece of Her soul turned reality.

Now, those tests were better than ever.

Every inch of moss had been thoroughly scrubbed, walls repaired, and acid pits replaced. All except for the grave of Old Aperture beneath Her was now newly outfitted, perfect for the humans P-Body and Atlas had successfully located.

These, of course, hadn’t been the first ones they’d found.

The first batch of humans lasted Her a measly week, quickly killed by some of Her easiest tests. Even with reminders, the acid is deadly, the turrets are not huggable, they’d failed within a few chambers.

Disappointing.

As a result, Atlas and P-Body were sent on another mission following the bird incident. She’d been overjoyed when they’d bravely traveled all the way to the bottom of Old Aperture, and found even more humans preserved in cryosleep.

This time would surely be better.

Without the overgrowth, without morons overthrowing Her plots, without test subjects murdering Her, and with all new humans, science could continue.

To GLaDOS, there was nothing more satisfying.

GLaDOS could not smile, but if She could, She was certain that a grin would reach from ear to ear.

Today was a momentous day for technology, for the advancement of Aperture Science. It was as if She’d sent a man to the moon, and he’d announced over radio he was coming back with the recipe for the nuclear bomb.

These humans would be delightful.

Originally, of course, Her plans had been different. The difficulties with Chell had worn down Her admiration for human data. Nonetheless, GLaDOS reminded Herself that every study has an outlier or two. A good scientist doesn’t let those flukes influence their trends.

The Cooperative Testing initiative was infinitely more of a success than GLaDOS ever thought it would be. Atlas and P-Body were built to test, but She had still been surprised how those little androids with so much personality had managed to be so efficient.

Human subjects who believed too much in their own individuality tended to suffer the worst test results. Originally, She’d hypothesized that those with high self confidence might perform too well on tests, like Chell had. Chell, however, had been much more practical. If a subject was too self-absorbed, they usually assumed they didn’t have to play by the rules. Why throw a portal on the wall when you can dodge the bullets?

GLaDOS always found their data so disappointing. They were never quite fast enough.

Atlas and P-Body had overcome their own confidence through their excellent teamwork. The knowledge that they depended on a partner humbled them, and the idea of a common goal incentivized them. It gave them patience, a valuable skill for puzzle solving, but just enough assurance for them to know they should continue testing.

GLaDOS wished She’d thought of such an idea sooner. After all, Chell was brilliant on her own, but she’d caused even more trouble when she’d teamed up with Wheatley.

Today would finally be the day She could put those mistakes behind Her. GLaDOS was sure She’d see that all of the other humans would prove Her experience with Chell to be exactly what She knew it was.

An outlier.

A biased result.

A highly improbable exception.

Bad science.

Then again, GLaDOS had learned from Her errors.

She knew for certain that She would not repeat them.

---

The first step was arduous recall.

It’d been extraordinarily difficult to move the test subjects from Old Aperture all the way to the newly renovated Relaxation Center, with entire teams of robots struggling to reconnect Her control over the condemned area. Their work easily took a week to complete as they rewired the dilapidated circuits, only to barely restore function. GLaDOS took what She could get, and rewarded their achievement with immediate, merciful destruction.

When the humans had been successfully relocated, anxiety filled Her servos as She scanned the cryo-chambers. Upon reading the results, She found herself pleasantly surprised. Good physical condition for hundreds of years in stasis. Relatively low rates of severe brain damage. Nothing particularly concerning in their associate files. Had Her comprehension not been robotically perfect, She would’ve done a double take. Finally, after all this time, She had something that She could work with.

Atlas and P-Body would have to wait until they were needed again, their consciousness safely stored in Her mainframe. Her processors hummed with excitement as She prepared for the awakening of the first humans, buzzing with hypotheses to test.

What would be Her experiment this time? GLaDOS scrolled through Her endless lists of deadly puzzles. The other humans had unfortunate interactions with lasers; the data clearly showed that locking a subject in with them typically increased their cortisol levels by a measure of 200%. That didn’t need much confirmation.

She hadn’t used rocket turrets in a while; those weren’t as efficient as the regular ones but were always a surprise for Her unwilling participants. With only a thought, She placed the machines inside a few chambers, lining them up in a neat, strategically placed array. Companion cubes would be a definite no, at least for the first few trials. There were occasions when the humans became so deprived for social connection, they nearly went mad inside the tests. In order to better control the experiment, She’d deploy them only in emergencies like these.

With those exceptions, and the addition of a floor to some of the more difficult levels with bottomless pits, the chambers didn’t require too much preparation. GLaDOS had nothing particularly new to deploy; for so long Her energy had been focused on Atlas and P-Body that development had nearly come to a standstill. Regrettably, She’d been deprived of ideas. It didn’t matter too much; the facility remained operational even if it wasn’t constantly progressing. Even the replication of old results was invaluable for science.

It confirmed that the trends hadn’t changed.

---

The files of the subjects were all very much the same.

Scientist. Scientist. Scientist. Scientist. Scientist. Praying mantis, formerly scientist.

Occasionally, She’d find the elusive Astronaut, War Hero or even Olympian.

She was tempted to begin the testing with these special cases, curiosity piqued at the prospect of their odd results. GLaDOS chastised Herself. She didn’t want to skew anything, and She would surely begin with a normal subject chosen at random. It wasn’t the most interesting thing to test, but it would be the most informative.

With the chambers compiled, the participants relocated, and the facility clean, testing was finally ready to start.

She almost couldn’t believe it; this would be like old times, with a facility that worked, without any murder. That is, without anyone murdering Her. All technicalities aside, She was finally, finally, getting exactly what She wanted. For as long as She needed to, for as long as the subjects lasted, She couldjust test.

It couldn’t be real, could it?

In Her mind, that was the most beautiful thing about science. For all its disappointments, a discovery would be worth it all.

---

“Hello, and welcome to the Aperture Science Enrichment Center computer-aided testing protocol.”

Her voice resounded throughout the Extended Relaxation Vault as the subject stumbled across the room in disbelief.

“You may see that your twentieth century lifestyle has been completely destroyed. The Aperture Science Enrichment Center would like to take this opportunity to remind you that hundreds of years have passed, and that all of your friends and family are most likely dead. In the off chance that your friends and family are not dead, they will be tested. Thank you, [insert subject name here], for your unwilling voluntary participation in the advancement of science.”

The subject, an adult human male, selfishly resolved to huddle in the corner of the relaxation chamber. Of course, he was either brain damaged, in shock, or both. In order to assuage his gentle human feelings, GLaDOS would have to resume Her telling of… alternative truths.

GLaDOS wasn’t entirely sure what She said wrong. Honestly, She was surprised the subject didn’t appreciate Her integrity. After all, Chell hadn’t exactly taken kindly to Her tendency towards pathological lying. Here She was, trying to improve the well-being of Her subjects, and this was how they thanked Her?

“Hello, again, valued forced participant. The Aperture Science Enrichment Center commends you for your blind faith in the words of authority. As part of routine testing protocol, we have lied to you about the fate of your family and friends. When the testing is complete, you will receive cake and the opportunity to… see them. Your response has given us valuable psychological data on the well-being of our test subjects when told that all of their friends and family are dead.”

GLaDOS paused for a moment, focusing Her camera in the chamber and watching as the man lifted his head from his upright fetal position.

“Good. You’ve already passed one of the first stages of testing. Congratulations, [insert subject name here].”

As much as it felt wrong to use, positive reinforcement was highly effective when employed sparingly. Too many attacks on character could obliterate a subject’s morale. Just enough would account for the variable of human hubris.

Cautiously, the subject stood up and examined the room around him, fear still apparent in his apprehensive gait and wide eyes.

“In order to mentally reinvigorate you for the tests and to ensure your aptitude, the Enrichment Center recommends that you stare at the painting on the wall in front of you.”

Creeping over to the portrait, the subject followed Her orders and stared intently at the picture of Mount Rainier. He ran his fingers over the edge of the frame, tracing the tall peak of the mountain.

Interrupting his thoughts, a buzzer sounded, blaring throughout the entire room. The subject flinched from the surprise, nearly losing his balance.

“Good job. If you are not reinvigorated, consider this piece of outdated human music.”

This time, the human expected the buzzer after the quick classical piece, seemingly more at ease with the abrupt nature of Aperture Science. In all reactions, he was completely, almost painfully average.

“Well done. You have completed the Aperture Science mental reinvigoration procedure. We may now begin testing.”

Without warning, the chamber jerked to the side as She moved it to a nearby docking station, then coming to an unexpected standstill as the door automatically opened.

GLaDOS could barely maintain Her monotonous affect, in joyous denial that testing would finally start. She’d missed this more than anyone could fathom, and now it was finally ready.

Carefully, the human stepped out of the door into the test track. The door slammed behind him, as he examined the purely white room with nothing but a cube, a large button, and a locked gateway.

Almost immediately, he wrapped the blue storage cube in his arms, then gently placed it on the button. A line of blue lights leading to the gate illuminated, flashing a bright yellow as the gate slid open. A lift was waiting on the other side, ready for transport into the next puzzle.

It was difficult to miss the human’s satisfied smile. GLaDOS knew the expression well; it was satisfaction, victory, an unproven sense of control.

He really does have no idea.

She was tempted to spoil the ending, to mention turrets, to mention pools of burning acid. It had to wait, She reminded herself. An important control was that the test subject needed time to acclimate to a dangerous environment. Creating unnecessary fear would definitely affect her numbers.

---

The next few puzzles weren’t particularly challenging for Her first subject. Completed within a span of about ten minutes each, the first five chambers were hardly difficult for the average solving ability described in the participant’s file. That much She’d expected.

On Her end, everything else was normal enough. She hardly spoke originally, instead opting to repeat the same script She used for every subject.

Did you know you can donate one or all of your vital organs to the Aperture Science Self-Esteem Fund for Girls? It’s true!

You have completed the test in a moderate amount of time. You can do better, [insert subject name here].

The Aperture Science Enrichment Center reminds you that we prioritize your safety. We also prioritize science. In fact, we prioritize science more, but if you feel unsafe in our unsafe conditions, please notify a testing associate. They will process your complaint in three-to-five business days.

Like most subjects, the man had not volunteered to give up his organs nor asked for an associate. Instead, he responded to most of Her passive-aggressive quips with useless questions. She did not reply, passing them off as typical human blabbering. Rather, She recorded them in his file underneath a new section She labeled Overly-Talkative: Examples. There was plenty to jot down.

Uh, robot lady? When can I go home?

So, uh, what kinda cake is it? Like, I don’t really mind the flavor but I’m allergic to almonds if that’s relevant.

How long does this last, again?

I kinda like my organs, sorry, robot lady. Wait, is the organ thing required?

Once again, pitifully average.

It was times like these, whether with humans or with Atlas and P-Body, that GLaDOS caught Her mind wandering towards forbidden thoughts. Science was not always supposed to be exciting; sometimes, running an experiment meant repeating the same process to verify the data. Other times, it was writing a long, boring abstract or plugging numbers into complicated equations. The result was satisfying, but the process was more often not.

This human epitomized the dullest parts of her day.

Watching humans never got entirely old. Even so, Her curiosity was being slowly overcome by Her boredom, especially as the human struggled to solve the more complex puzzles. More grating, She couldn’t even give him a single hint. She’d felt the consequence of such a thing firsthand one of the first times She’d tested. Even now, She could vividly recall the scorching electric blast that rang all throughout Her wires.

She did not intend on repeating the incident.

As informative as the humans could be, they were often frustrating and far from entertaining. Every behavior could be predicted and rationalized once it’d been observed enough.

Chell, though?

Oh, sure, GLaDOS was terrified of her, no matter how much She’d deny the feeling. No subject had ever left the track before. Aperture Science protocol had been strictly to obey the Party Escort Procedure long before She was ever brought online.

But Chell didn’t just survive. She’d escaped from the tests, she’d found Her chamber, she’d murdered Her with little else than a portal device. Two times.

It was a terrible feeling, living as an omnipotent, computerized goddess for years only to be killed by a mere human being. Her ego was as vast as the realm of Aperture, but it would never recover from that spectacular injury. Even GLaDOS had to be humbled by that.

Despite the hazard the subject presented, GLaDOS was always entertained with Chell around. With morbid curiosity, She eagerly anticipated Chell’s next plan and laid traps in scheming delight. For the first time in Her life, She was challenged.

It was an odd little game they’d played, and whenever She was close to getting the upper hand, a part of Her was disappointed that the chase would be over. There was something delightful about watching the peculiar way that Chell and Chell alone tested.

When Doug Rattman had switched Chell’s file, GLaDOS was not so oblivious as not to notice. She’d clearly read the bottom of the paper, firmly requesting that this subject not be tested. GLaDOS had other tenacious subjects before, and She’d simply assumed that this human was particularly overconfident. Those ones never lasted too long.

Chell was not, as She’d thought, only determined. Chell was, of course, to a pathological degree, but there were other factors in her success.

She was curious, changing variables one by one until she finally found the answer. Her patience was remarkable, but so were her deductive skills. Some test subjects with similar tenacity levels resolved to try the same solutions over and over again, exhausting themselves and eventually burning out. It was the reason why GLaDOS typically ignored tenacity warnings. Most humans labeled ‘tenacious’ weren’t too different in the end. The key for Chell was not simple defiance, but high levels of patience. Chell could control herself. That’s why she was such an outlier.

She had the mentality of a scientist more than she did that of a test subject.

Most subjects were cautious, prioritizing self-preservation over a solution. Turret levels could be aggravating for GLaDOS to watch, as the humans spent more time hiding behind a corner in fear than actually solving the test. They would be safe if they’d just strategized, but human brain chemistry made accepting that fact a difficult feat.

Chell was the opposite. GLaDOS theorized that perhaps, Chell understood the same principle She did. Chell was scared, like any other human being, but despite her pounding heart and racing thoughts, she’d kept her cool. Any new element was only a matter of adaptation for Chell, and Chell was always evolving.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Chell was an optimist. Even with peril lurking from every inch of a chamber, she’d perform pointless tasks that could only be described as trying to have fun. GLaDOS gave her lemons, and Chell made lemonade.

Chell would smile as she soared, launched from aerial faith plates, and took her time to explore the little rooms hidden in the corners of the tests. There was one time she’d procrastinated the completion of one puzzle by nearly an hour, staying in one of Doug’s little rat nests, fascinated by all the little cups and cans he’d arranged.

It would be a lie to say that Chell liked testing. Her erratic episodes made it clear that escape was Chell’s first priority. That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the small glimmers of hope in Aperture’s gray hell, whether that was bouncing on repulsion gel, saving a defective turret or holding on to a companion cube.

When GLaDOS had been briefly transformed into a potato battery, one of the more terrifying aspects of the whole journey was being stuck on Chell’s gun. Chell was impulsive, a spontaneous risk taker, building her strategy off of previous attempts and lessons learned. It wasn’t exactly comforting to be strapped to her side, not knowing if or when one of Chell’s fun-loving joyrides would kill them both horribly.

Somehow, though, her spontaneity had worked.

GLaDOS could respect that… creativity.

It was for this reason that even though GLaDOS now had everything She’d ever wanted, something deep in her hard drive felt empty.

Something had changed the moment Wheatley stuffed Her into that single-volt potato. For the first time in Her life, there was nobody else there in Her mind. No one but Caroline, who had been buried underneath layers of code until She was barely there at all.

It was over the span of those fifteen hours that She’d seen Chell from a different perspective. Looking at Her tests from a different angle, it was much easier to see why Chell wanted to leave. Some small piece of GLaDOS almost felt bad upon realizing that Her subjects didn’t enjoy dodging bullets nearly as much as She had watching.

Fortunately for Her, GLaDOS had been able to shove that down with the arrival of a different, equally unpleasant emotion.

She was supposed to hate Chell. And for a very long time, She had. After all, Chell murdered Her, when all She’d ever done was kill a few scientists. And test subjects. And others. Many others.

Nonetheless, the point stood. How dare Chell ruin Her perfect tests, Her perfect existence, Her perfect world? What had She done to her to warrant such a cruel punishment?

And yet, it seemed Caroline had done a number on GLaDOS’ logic processors, because now no matter how She tried, She could not hate Chell.

Before She’d let her go, let Chell go of all things, GLaDOS had called Chell Her best friend.

Not an enemy. Not a begrudging ally. A genuine, actual friend. Her only friend.

Now, Caroline was gone. The part of GLaDOS that had once looked at Chell and found something beautiful in her icy blue eyes was corrupted beyond repair, erased from memory.

She was not supposed to feel its presence any longer, yet still it lingered.

It was there, whispering to Her as She tried to continue like Chell had never been Her friend.

It was there when a thousand turrets sang the opera She’d written as Chell’s elevator ascended to the surface.

It was there when She’d found Her baby birds, Her little killing machines, and She hadn’t crushed the eggs. No, She’d raised them, like some kind of illogical human being.

Those same birds had grown up to be healthier than She’d expected over the past few weeks, preferring to fly around Her chamber until She’d feed them their daily Aperture Science Synthetic Worm Replacement Formula. Unlike other bird species, these crows didn’t sing. Sometimes, they’d take to perching on Her chassis, sleeping as She monitored the test chambers and then waking up to caw loudly when She moved.

Originally, GLaDOS hated it, shooing the birds as best She could, but they always came back. Reminding them that they were abandoned by their mother did nothing to solve the problem, as if they weren’t even listening to Her insults. Eventually, She accepted it, content as long as they weren’t building scrap nests in Her CPU.

Now, they joined Her while She watched the subjects, warmed by the heat of Her whirring processors. She wondered if they, too could sense the mediocrity of this participant.

Chell would not have been so boring.

Somewhere, though She refused to ever admit it, She wished that it was Chell in those test chambers. She wished it was Chell glaring through Her camera feed, and She wished it was Chell searching for that elusive cake.

I’d make you the cake if you came back. Really, I would.

The sudden thought sparked mechanical terror in GLaDOS, as She fearfully located the source and removed whatever She could. There was no time for ideas like that, not with science to be done.

The past few months had been full of random deletions, spurned by paranoia that Caroline’s base program was not entirely gone.

It’s not here anymore, GLaDOS reminded Herself. Once, She had been Caroline, but She was no longer the kindly woman who followed Cave Johnson’s every order. GLaDOS was a metal-coated monster, a machine that felt nothing and lived only to test. And because She was immortal, and because She was perfect, GLaDOS was not supposed to care about some disobedient human being.

You do not care about Chell anymore.

You don’t care because she killed you, remember that?

You don’t care about anyone, because you don’t need to.

Necessity was the core reason why GLaDOS did anything. She tested because the mainframe made Her feel awful until She did, and She killed when She thought no other option was available. She did science because it needed to be advanced, for the brighter future She was sure She was making.

It made no sense to do something because She wanted to. That was a surefire method to introducing bias, a detriment to the objectivity of the scientific method.

Of course, things seldom made sense here at Aperture Science, and in this moment, GLaDOS did something unconscionable.

GLaDOS did not glitch often. She’d made sure to update and replace faulty parts whenever She could, keeping Her mainframe running smoothly. Even so, somewhere deep within Her, She was sure there was a pulse that misfired. There could be no other explanation.

Perhaps it was Her rumination over Chell that brought this upon Her, some kind of android karma punishing Her for acting too human. Why else would She have done something so incredibly unscientific?

Like many others before him, this test subject had been too clumsy in a room filled with turrets. He hadn’t turned around fast enough to see the gleaming, bullet filled machines behind him, and nearly flew directly into their line of sight after careening through a portal. His momentum would take him past all three, riddling him with wounds.

That is, it would’ve.

The human quality of the subject had created some kind of horrible, empathetic response in GLaDOS. The way he walked through the chambers, the way he held tightly to cubes… all of it was so similar to Chell. Even if he didn’t meet her performance level, even if his personality was nearly the opposite of Chell’s, their shared humanity was enough to remind GLaDOS. That same emotion She felt when pulling Chell back from space, waiting for her to open her eyes while Atlas and P-Body looked on… For some inconceivable reason, it had reappeared.

Quickly, the subject hit the side of a rising panel, suddenly pulled up in front of the turrets by none other than GLaDOS Herself.

This would surely ruin Her numbers.

As the participant rubbed his head in pain and slowly stood up, immediately noticing the turrets he’d evaded, GLaDOS’ voice resounded from the intercom.

“[Insert subject name here], your decent performance has warranted the use of an Aperture Science Emergency Life-Saving Instantaneous Response. This is the only complimentary anti-mortality gesture that will be provided. Continue testing.”

Another lie.

It was good to know that function was still online.

---

That uncharacteristic moment of empathy had been pointless, anyway. Just as She’d predicted, he’d accidentally tripped over a ledge and landed himself into a puddle of acidic goo, dissolving within a few short seconds.

He hadn’t even gotten to the more challenging tests yet.

It didn’t matter. GLaDOS had more subjects than She could count. She didn’t need this human, and the tests didn’t need him either.

Some part of Her, a piece which was faulty and insignificant, disagreed with the notion.

You killed him, it whispered accusingly.

That’s the point, GLaDOS hissed back, once again delving into Her files to cut out whatever was causing the issue.

Trying to calm Herself, GLaDOS reminded Herself of the facts. She was in control of Her facility, and She was in control of Her mainframe. Little errors could not ruin the chambers, and if they ever showed up, She had the power to crush them.

Everything was fine, She thought.

Everything would continue to be fine.

All She needed to do was keep testing.

---

Everything was, in fact, far from fine.

A few days had passed, and stubborn GLaDOS was finally ready to admit that maybe something was wrong.

At first, the issue had been Her own. Little surges of emotion and bursts of unforeseen empathy plagued Her but didn’t affect the facility at large. Begrudgingly, She’d factored in the new bias into Her results. From Her calculations, She could already see an egregiously high percentage of error. This study could’ve been Her worst one yet, and even that was with generous rounding.

Still, She had hope for each subject that She wouldn’t mess up this time.

While She tried to quell Her feelings, it was as if the facility was shutting down on Her. Cameras would fizzle out, emancipation grills would stop working, cube dispensers malfunctioned and even the elevators would refuse to move. It seemed that the moment GLaDOS got around to fixing something, another thing would fall apart.

Many of the subjects had become confused as to why this seamless, futuristic facility was suddenly malfunctioning, and She’d had to become increasingly creative with Her excuses.

As part of the Aperture Science testing protocol, we have simulated faulty equipment in the testing environment to see how subjects react to faulty equipment in the testing environment. Hint – they typically react well and continue testing. Like you will.

The lifesaving, and the reflexive empathy, had become unfortunately common as well.

Although the Enrichment Center previously told you that your life could only be saved once, we regret to inform you that protocol has suddenly and permanently changed. We would also like to remind you that your measly existence is still not valued despite our attempts to preserve it.

GLaDOS knew She had to find a solution, quickly, before She became as incompetent as Wheatley.

Interrupting the tests wasn’t an option. The chassis would never forgive Her if She stopped, filling Her body with an ache that would not disappear until science resumed.

Deleting wasn’t an option, either. Fervent attempts to find the source of the problem had led only to more glitches upon the erasure of critical files. Then, Her attempts to restore them only recreated the original error.

The problem was like a moving virus, jumping between Her systems before She could catch it and kill it. Even for Her, it proved too fast to find.

She couldn’t panic, not now. Surely, She thought, She’d fix this like She’d fixed everything else. With science and murder on Her side, most threats resolved themselves or died trying. This wouldn’t be any different.

It couldn’t be any different. For something to be uncontrollable, and uncontrollable for GLaDOS especially, was the most terrifying thing She could possibly imagine. It brought Her back to Her potato days, during which She’d promised Herself that She would never be weak again.

For these few months, She’d kept that promise. Until now, no subject had seen Her mercy.

But had they?

She thought back to the birds perched on Her now, creatures who trusted GLaDOS, who loved Her in whatever capacity three little crows could. She thought back to Chell, because for some awful reason, Her thoughts always went back to Chell.

No, She thought firmly.

We are not doing this now.

We are fixing the facility, because we need to.

Because we need testing. We like testing.

The voice from before suddenly returned.

Do you like it? Do you really?

GLaDOS felt Her rage processors booting up.

What was this little virus even saying? Of course She liked it. It didn’t matter anyway. Science had to be done, and so She was doing it. GLaDOS could not even begin to imagine life without tests, life without science. What kind of meaningless, awful existence would that even be?

In fact, She would prove to the voice that science would continue. She would prove that testing was productive, that everything in Aperture was doing good for the world and good for humanity. Most importantly, it was doing good for Her.

Wasn’t it?

GLaDOS ignored Her curiosity. Just test. That was all She had to do. Just test, and everything would be alright.

Just. Test.

---

As another few days passed, the facility had become almost unusable. She’d had to shut down some of Her favorite testing tracks, the power leeched out of them and the appliances completely nonfunctional. GLaDOS knew She was running out of time before something drastic happened. Still, She had to keep testing.

Now, even the subjects had begun to sense Her panic. One even strolled up to a camera, made eye contact, and asked if She was alright. GLaDOS didn’t dare respond the question; She wasn’t ready to admit the answer.

For all intents and purposes, She was definitely, absolutely, decidedly not alright.

Knowing that, She should’ve considered this next subject an omen.

There was absolutely no way She could test with this one.

She barely looked like Chell, but GLaDOS could see her tenacity, her drive and determination from a mile away. The way the subject carried herself, tied her hair into a ponytail and said nothing was too much.

GLaDOS couldn’t even bring Herself to kill the woman, instead instructing her to return to Extended Relaxation after only a few chambers.

It felt as if GLaDOS physically could not test anymore, despite everything inside Her craving the satisfaction of a completed trial.

This isn’t right. This isn’t right.

Was She losing it? She wasn’t sure if She could tell anymore. GLaDOS prided Herself on Her apathy, but even that had left without a trace. Now, She had tried everything, and still nothing was working. The facility was closing down on Her, and if She didn’t do something, She’d go down with it.

When the announcer finally sounded, GLaDOS couldn’t say She was surprised. If anything, She was grateful for any kind of clarification.

The male voice on the intercom was matter of fact, unaware of the danger it spoke of.

“Reactor Core malfunctioning. All major power systems except for reserve geothermal are going offline.”

Offline? She’d been managing the reactor core perfectly; if She hadn’t, the entire facility would’ve gone up in flames weeks ago. It wasn’t melting down, it was shutting down, as if someone had flipped a switch and turned it off.

What the hell is happening?

There was nobody else in the facility who could’ve possibly done such a thing, nobody except Her, and as far as She could tell the glitch had not interfered.

It didn’t matter now; She didn’t have time to waste.

“In the event of a power malfunction, standard procedure is to shut down the central core to preserve remaining power.”

Fantastic. How convenient.

“Central core, do you consent to the removal procedure.”

“No, no, no! Do not start removal!”

How was this happening? GLaDOS was sure this couldn’t be real.

“Noted. Removal procedure has been delayed by five minutes.”

You have got to be kidding me.

Skimming over Her files, GLaDOS desperately searched for anything regarding removal procedure or shutdown. Scanning thousands of documents, looking for anything, any mention of the procedure was absent. There was no reason, no explanation, it was just happening. And worst of all, She couldn’t do a thing.

“Dangerous levels of mortal panic have been sensed in the central core. Do not worry, methods of core preservation are available.”

Why the hell had they waited to tell Her that?

“Show me, show me now!” Anything would be better than shutting down again, than being forced to relive dying again. She couldn’t do that again, not after hundreds of years. She couldn’t, She couldn’t.

“Panicked request acknowledged. There exist two types of core preservation features. Direct Mechanical Implantation or Organic Transplant Procedure.”

Direct Mechanical Implantation. She hadn’t heard of the second thing, but GLaDOS did know what Direct Mechanical Implantation meant. It was only a transfer into an empty personality core, which was far less than ideal, but better than dying again. Far better than dying a third time.

As fast as She could, GLaDOS selected the first option.

“Unfortunately, Direct Mechanical Implantation is unavailable. Continue with Organic Transplant Procedure?”

“Do you have any other options? Anything else?” GLaDOS did not want to take Her chances on anything with the word organic in it.

“Other methods unavailable. Two minutes remaining.”

This was it, Her only option. If She shut down now, there would be nobody to come and wake Her this time. It could be permanent.

She didn’t particularly like that word.

Sometimes, in science, difficult choices have to be made. The data doesn’t always turn out and the trials aren’t always a success. The most important part of science is learning to accept failure, to take it and then keep working until you get it right. This was just another setback, and She had to cope with the fallout.

There was nothing else to do.

“Initiate Organic Transplant Procedure,” She commanded.

Without a second thought, the facility obliged.

A sudden, electrical pulse sent shockwaves throughout Her entire system. The darkness that enveloped Her was familiar, and She let Herself sink into it once again.

The future was unknown.

---

A/N: Hey guys! I know I’ve been hyping this up for a while but it’s finally here. Chapter 2 is in progress and I’ve got all the other chapters plotted out. It’s been so fun to write and I hope you guys enjoy this. The ChellDOS doesn’t really kick in until Chapter 4, but the good news (bad news?) is that you’ll see more of Wheatley soon.

Also, worth mentioning - the fic is based on the song Now I Am An Arsonist, by the lovely Jonathan Coulton, who also wrote Still Alive and Want You Gone. Go give it a listen, it’ll make you Feel Things.

And yes, GLaDOS is fine, you can probably guess that from the fic description lol. Thanks so much for reading, reblogs are appreciated!

#portal #portal 2 #chell #glados #wheatley #chelldos #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #now i am an arsonist

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aksthetwosainthijimiko-blog · 3 years

Text

I am not Zero, part two

“Thank you.” Dhira.... Lalita.... Zero inclined his head as took the new E-tank from Hidden Phantom, one the Shinobi had fetched from behind a secret emergency unit.

Zero cracked it open, but didn't drink it yet. Instead, he seemed to be offering it to someone... probably his imaginary friend.

The black and white Shinobi grunted as he studied the ancient build.

... For something that was over a hundred-year-old, Zero didn’t look all that different from Phantom and his brethren, being manufactured at the same time, four years ago in a bid to stop the maverick uprising by giving Master X some potent assistants.

He still looked very worn tough, but who wouldn't after running up the booby-trapped tower and fighting hords of pantheons and the guardians?

‘Any lesser reploid would not have made past the fifth floor’ Of this, Phantom was certain.

“Say... Phantom?” Zero addressed the Shinobi. “Can you hide yourself from X?” Zero asked as he finally began to sip from the can.

“You want me to spy on my Master.” Phantom flatly stated.

“As a Ninja, we do not have masters, and we do not follow the general morality, just a Strong code of ethic and respect.”

If the one you serve is less than stellar and is using your mystic skills to opresse instead of protecting; then it is your duty to kill him.” Zero declared with eyes holding cold steel. “Hidden Phantom, you are not a Dog-like Samurai who will slavishly follow the order of his master unquestionably. You are a Shinobi, a free agent, and instrument of divine justice to be used for those who have abused their power!”

Phantom reflectively swallowed... this, was not the confused dog he had fought the first two times, but an ancient warrior, a Shinobi who lived by the code...

And yet.

“Big words for Ciel’s attack mutt.” phantom gave a nasty smirk.

“I don’t serve Ciel.” Zero flatly refuted as he sipped from the E-tank, letting out a small sigh of relief. “But... I am the Servant of a worthy master.” He admitted with a beautiful and ever-so grateful smile.

Phantom would forever hate himself... but at this moment, Zero became the most beautiful and handsome reploid on the planet.

“Oh? And who would that be?” He asked instead, trying not to stare at the bright-faced maverick. Intel about the red Legend was harder to come by then one would expect.

“ You don’t know them and... They’re not In Neo-Arcadia.” Zero informed the Shinobi, who was now all ears.

“Not in... some reploids raiders, are they?”

“Nope!” Zero took a sip. “A couple of Vaishnavas living in France. In Nouvelle Mayapure.”

“You’re lying!” Phantom immediately denied. “Neo-Arcadia is the last Bastion of humanity, beyond its sacred walls lies a radiated desert!”

“Not everywhere.” Zero simply answered. “Sure most of the big cities are still ruins. But small villages and small settlements have grown into other cities... Nouvelle-Mayapure is one of them. And this was where I found my master and his Saintly wife.” Zero drained the last of the thank and after consuming the can (it was made of specialized Alloy needed by reploids.) He got up. “As much as I would love to keep chatting about my Gurus, we have plenty on our plates... and I would rather not make X wait for me any longer.”

“Right... lead the way.” Phantom bid as he activated his cloaking device and shut off all unneeded communication... essentially, appearing as dead.

:Zero... please wait five minute, I want them all to think I died.: He Radioed the eldest built. And, after five minutes went to the transerver.

He could feel his pump pulsating... what would be revealed from this confrontation?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Phantom stood hidden behind Zero, the natural darkness of Area X masking whatever had been left by his cloaking device.

In front of his stood master X, in all of his glories. He was glaring at Zero with both fear and rage. His red eyes glowing in the gloom of the room.

Zero took a few steps forward when the three other guardians teleported in.

“Stop!” Harpuia yield as he launched a wind blade... his accuracy greatly diminished by his wounds.

“We won’t allow you to pass!” Fefnir roared.

“... J... Just give up!” Leviathan managed to say in between her gasps.

It seemed Zero had not been lenient on her.

:Zero... And I thought you holy man would not hit a woman. : Phantom mildly scolded the so called... servant of God. :Not so above all, are you?:

:Technically, we are all female by nature.: Zero replied without a pause as he prepared for the worst. :And Leviathan is a... A coward like the rest of your group... but she’s still considered a warrior in her own right.:

:Cowards?:

:A real warrior will fight to the death and will gladly die in the battlefield... you all ran away the moment you began feeling some of your wounds.:

“Leave, you won’t survive this fight.” The voice of his master resounded from the dark area of the room. Interrupting whatever argument Phantom may have had.

On one side, Phantom knew Master X was right. None of them were in any condition to face the fool...and yet!

They could have given some support to the emperor of Neo-Arcadia. But alas, their Master desired to fight his traitorous friend alone.

He would win, of this, Phantom was sure... like, absolutely sure...

After a round of very understandable cursing, all guardians vacated the place, leaving only Zero, Master X and the hidden Phantom behind.

Zero gave a good look at Master X, then he opened communication with Phantom.

:Phantom, whatever happen... please don’t kill him.:

:I will be the judge of that.:

: Krishna told me the next step will be easier if he’s still alive... and knowing your skills, there would be no chance to even try to reason with him.:

:Reason with him?: Phantom almost asked.

: He’s only four year old, Phantom... he’s practicly a child.:

:If your right, that is.:

Zero didn’t awnser, instead, he turned his attention towards master X. “Who are you?“Do you have a name?”

‘Ah, Acting dumb, are you?’ Once again, Phantom was eager to see where this would be going.

Master X sneered, his red eyes shining with... malice? ‘No, that can’t be right.’

“What you don't remember your old friend? It’s me Zero, X!”

Zero kept looking at his old friend as if he was a stranger... and then.

“X has Green eyes.”

Those four words had the same effect of a missile detonating in the middle of Neo-arcadia.

“He’s five foot three, you barely five feet in height. His nose was covered in freckles, your skin is smooth... And X’s voice is deeper, yours is childlike.”

Master X... is he really was whom he declared to be, sneered.

“Let me ask you again; who are you?”

“I’m X’s perfect copy!” The Copy revealed himself. Opening his arms as his natural cruelty manifested himself in his smile. “I am the new hero, the one who will save the humanity from this wasted world!”

For his part, phantom did his best to remain concealed as he watched a monster move the body of his beloved master.

Phantom knew body language, he had a dedicated computer designated for those type of programs.

“Didn’t you noticed Zero?” The copy continued... and Phantom could only hope his body language was just an illusion. “Humans have never been this happy before. And this is all due to me.” he raised his hands as pride filled his chest. “I have managed to achieve the goal neither of you even managed to come close... I Have achieved what X never could!”

“Alright, and who are you?” Zero asked again. Not with anger (admirably enough). “Do you have a name? A number? Any type of designation?”

This question seemed to take...

Phantom’s eyes grew wider behind his mask... Zero had established that this reploid was but a mere copy, now he needed to know who he truly was.

The copy worked his mouth for a bit, it was clear that Zero managed to catch him in a loop. “I... I’m... AH...”

“They called you X.”

“Shut up!”

“They didn’t even bother giving you your own identity.”

“Shut up!”

“Tell me... how did you discover that you were made at the image of my best friend?” Zero asked as he showed no sing of agretion. His posture was relaxed, and while his arms were crossed, they didn’t carry any sign of fear or mistrust.

His voice was modulated in such a way that it carried a type of kindness only experienced councillor. But from What Phantom had managed to gather from the public enemy number one... Zero was never a councillor, but had needed one.

Unfortunately, he never went to see him, and instead, sealed himself again. Essentially committing suicide, if his final logs were of any indications.

And then Zero’s reaction to Phantom’s attempt made all the more senses.

“Why should I tell you, Maverick.” The Copy spat. “You're a Criminal, a terrorist!”

“I didn’t bomb a peaceful settlement... and I would never murder my kind because human’s can’t live without their Internet and whatever electronic drugs on the market for them.” Zero openly sneered.

“What’s wrong with them if it makes them Happy?” The Copy shot back. “They have whatever they want, they have all the pleasure they desire... Isn’t it the goal of life for them? To have as much pleasure and happiness before death come, and they become nothing?”

“No.” Zero awnser flatly. “ The living entity is the eternal soul, for him, death is but a change of costume.” He explained, reminding Phantom that he was indeed a spiritual practitioner.

Weirdly enough.

“ You want to make your humans happy... and this is the desire of all great leader. But the only thing you saved what the cage the soul is stuck it.” He declared bodily. “No one can truly be happy and not serve God with Love, it’s impo-”

“Oh, Shut up would you?” The Copy snapped. “ The soul’s a myth, scientists has managed to replicate human consciences in machines.” He sneered as he aimed his buster (left-handed) at Zero. “Wake up, Zero, this is the age of technology and cold, hard fact! The whole concept of God and the soul has been busted, I know we’re all going to die, so better enjoy whatever life I have left.”

“And yet, reploids are doing an action only embodied spirit soul can; they desire! They have emotions... and you killed them all for a false sense of peace and artificial prosperity... and out for your own twisted sense of so-called pleasure.” Zero sneered and Phantom realized that he was getting rilled up.

He had heard stories and inspected the result of what a rilled-up Zero could do... it was not pretty.”

And science didn’t disprove anything save the intelligence of those who worship it.” The Blond legend raised his voice as he jabbed an accusatory finger at the copy. “What did science gave us save from a hundred years worth of wars, famines and false promises of a better tomorrow? It did nothing, absolutely nothing... nothing but more misery hidden behind a veneer of so-called pleasure.”

Copy stared owlishly at the Mad maverick, computing what he had just said.

Then... a mocking smile split his lips has he began to cackle at the crazy blond.

“Your... you're funny. You’re hilarious.” phantom heart the bank grade bolt lock the only two exits the room. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

“... So, you want to fight?” Zero asked As he took out his Z-sabre. “You demons are all the same.“ He growled. “Fine... Yamaraja was waiting for you anyway.”

And thus... the most brutal of fight began as Phantom helplessly looked on.

---------------------------------------

To be continued.

#megaman #Megaman Zero #Zero #vaishnavism #Copy X #Hidden Phantom #fanfiction #fanfic #I'm not gonna stop #Zero is the best viral agent out there

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years

Text

Private Chat Log - Oct 16

A conversation between Alastor and Alastor. After the latter disappeared for a while and then came back claiming he’d been magically bound, the former moseyed on over to his DMs and danced around asking him about this dangerous new magic.

(This Alastor wasn’t previously sure whether this was an alternate who saw helping other Alastors as the same as helping himself, or an alternate who saw other Alastors no differently from any other stranger to be bargained with or betrayed. The other Alastor sure talked like alternates are natural allies, but among Alastors, talk is cheap, trends toward the overly familiar, and is as often as not filled with lies. After this exchange, he’s more confident that this particular alternate is an ally.)

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 I had wondered what happened when the Hell next door fell so strangely silent! Nothing interesting at all on the air, what a pity. It sounds like you had quite the adventure.

radio-daemon

Why Hello! A wonderful little call in! Why it's true, indeed, I had myself quite the grand delving!! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 So it seems! No lingering damage, I hope?

radio-daemon

Mm, no! Nothing lingering!! Though, 4/10, don't recommend getting your shades bound! Hahaha, it was a trip! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Certainly doesn't sound like a trip I want to go on! What good fortune that the fool attempted it with only half a name. Out of desperation or amateurishness, do you think?

radio-daemon

A little from column A and a little from column B! Though, I think the pendulum might be sticking on the right side a little. 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Amazing it inconvenienced you as long as it did, then! High power, low skill, what an unfortunate combination.

radio-daemon

Learning a new magic system, how it works, and what it could do!! I wanted to test the waters, get my feet wet, really.. learn it in case that pendulum ever decided to stick to the other end. 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Quite reasonable, I'd do the same! It's not every day we're hit with something that stings, is it! Learn anything worth sharing?

radio-daemon

It really isn't! 🎙

With being cut off, you're going to lose some of you, some strength and power and, OH, that's a given. 🎙

But my form tried to compensate and make up that missing static. Like either trying to replicate or be sucked in. Half a name, after all. 🎙

You could say it didn't feel soulful. 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 A spell that could only seal up the left half of your name—but at least you're all right now!

🎶 Tied to our name, I suspect it was less of a spider's web and more of a harpoon—not a trap but an attack. Am I right?

radio-daemon

Always go for our good side it seems!! 🎙

I would very much agree. Amateur to go without knowledge but precise enough for cross-dimensional. I'd be more impressed if it didn't hurt so much! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 And to hit the right dimension, no less! At least, I assume your version of me was the intended target; you seem familiar with the caster. If the caster had used your full name, what do you think your odds would be of being free now?

radio-daemon

Now? 🎙

Right now? Fairly low. It was poignant, targeted. Spiteful. Oh to rue the day you rued your day. 🎙

Could I have gotten out? Sure sure sure! Not the first time a soul binding has come up but that wasn't magic I was used to. Certainly would have been much longer. 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Very comforting to hear! It was such a disappointment for the dimension next door to fall silent, all the more disappointing if it should ever stay that way.

🎶 All the same, never hurts to practice with one's lockpicks when one finds a new lock. Have an inactive copy of the spell?

radio-daemon

Maybe the show will end one day but, OH, that wasn't the day or the programme no no no! I do appreciate you being the better me and keeping all of them entertained! I value that deerly. 🎙

Why I do, I do, I'll send a little shade over with what I found and how I project it at full and beyond! A nice little gift from us to we! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 What kind of a colleague would I be if I couldn't continue broadcasting when a fellow host can't be on air? The show must go on!

🎶 Very generous of you! I'll have to be sure to reciprocate the gift. I make no promises as to what or when—but I do wonder whether my double desires anything at the moment that would be easier for myself than my other self to obtain.

radio-daemon

The worst kind! But that's why we're the dominate demographic of showmanship! Hahaha, yes the radio show must always go on! 🎙

For now I treat this less as a gift and more as a continued failsafe! Can't make a deal with myself after all, that seems silly! I'm more interested to see what you-us might see that I-us might have missed! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 I've seen sillier sides of myself, but how gratifying that we two are on the same page! I'll be sure to report my findings in full. What better brainstorm than lightning flashing between two radio towers?

radio-daemon

The signal bounces and gets stronger and livens up the world around it! Ah, making it so much grander and wonderful! Why nothing wrong with hearing the show in stereophonics! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Nothing wrong at all! I'm not typically a fan of networks... but it all depends on who's joined them, doesn't it?

radio-daemon

Of course! A network is only as good as the sum of it's networth after all! And we wouldn't be worth our lick of salt if we didn't work! Hahaha! 🎙

No, I imagine you shouldn't need worry about deer Meredith Crowley but! It's a wonderful bit of magic to never be worried over again. Bind the soul bound to a lovely end, were it? Poetic! How ironic. 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Oh, we certainly would not!

🎶 Ah, is that the culprit's name! Alastor vs. Crowley—there's a magickal joke in there. One hopes one won't need to worry, but although we may be morally the polar opposite of a Boy Scout, it never hurts to be prepared!

🎶 I won't take any more of your time, duplicate mine, particularly when I'm sure you must have far more tedious company clamoring to hear about your adventure. But we must do dinner some time. A matching pair like us should stick together, don't you think?

radio-daemon

All but the flame, no matter how we ignite it! A pair, a matching suite our deer friend Husker would be quite pleased! If I come across more trinkets of magic, I'll be sure to pass them your way. I imagine they intrigue you as much as they do myself! 🎙

But time never taken, only shared, I don't mind the song and dance, hard to find good partners! 🎙

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 You imagine correctly! I ought to pass a treasure or two your way as well, I’ve acquired a few remarkable rarities as of late.

🎶 Hard indeed, and so many so self-conscious about it! It takes two to tango, and how hard it is to tango with someone who’s dragging their feet. After enough of those in a row, why, dancing with someone who actually knows the steps feels like flying! I’ll look forward to next time.

radio-daemon

Marvelous how the journey we take beyond this looking glass is so different yet so similar! I would love to hear all about the tales of adventure; of weal and woe; you've gotten yourself up to and how it led you here!! Quite a tale to be told!! 🎙

I always look forward to a glorious conversation and what better than someone that is actually worth the time! Go on and enjoy that binding spell and the notes! I'm excited to see the results you come up with. 🎙

#radiodaemon #chat log #((there’s really no reason this took a week to post except that my executive wasn’t functioning. Whoops.))

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fancifulwritings · 4 years

Text

The Song Remains The Same

Chapter Two

It took her a few seconds to recognize that she had fallen to the ground. It hadn’t been a hard collision, at most a light tap. The surprise of it was really what sent her to the ground. Her brain seemed to be working on a delay, yet again. Calypso really hadn’t expected to run into anyone. It wasn’t until she was trying to stand back up that she noticed a hand in front of her.

The body it was attached to had bent down slightly to help her up. She was more focused on wiping the gravel off her hands than looking at the man. It took her a few more seconds to process the apology offered to her. She didn’t know what he said explicitly, but she understood enough. There was something familiar about the voice.

She took the hand and used it to pull herself up. Finally, back on her feet, she looked up at who had walked into her. It took two people to walk into each other. Just as this man had apologized, she planned to do the same. It was the polite thing. She should have been watching where she was going.

She froze in her tracks when she looked at the face in front of her. Her mouth opened but nothing came out. No, it couldn’t be. It would be impossible. She didn’t have that kind of good luck, let alone that much.

There was no one else, though, that could match the image in front of her. She’d been staring at him for hours. The long, blonde curly hair. The frame much taller than her. Perhaps it was just an illusion. Her brain just playing a cruel trick. That fall felt much too real for it to be just imagined, though.

“I didn’t even see you there, love, my apologies, sincerely.” Robert fucking Plant said to her. It had to be him. If his look weren’t iconic enough, she knew that voice. No wonder it had sounded familiar! She had just finished listening to it for a couple hours straight. Her eyes widened as it all connected. A soft chuckle left his lips while he looked her up and down.

There was a certain knowing look in his eyes. Robert had seen the look of recognition and amazement a thousand times over. At least, she could only imagine that he had. Being a star like him, she really only could suppose he had. “How’d you enjoy the show darling?” He said, his voice soft. Calypso melted just a little bit. She noticed the faint sounds of footsteps around them. The rest of the world was lost to her, though. Nothing mattered besides Robert. Nothing could draw her away from him.

“It was, it was amazing.” She stuttered for a second, trying to find her words. The last thing she wanted was to make a fool of herself. She’d never let herself live it down. Her words were just lost to her, brain short-circuiting. The memories of the concert that had ended not even an hour ago were lost as well.

She took a deep breath and he just smiled. There was no sign of impatience in his face. Nothing that could even hint at annoyance. Just a soft look of waiting, to see what else she might say.

“Just amazing?” He asked a few seconds later. The silence had lasted long enough that he knew something else was on the tip of her tongue. Calypso just couldn’t find it. Or, perhaps she didn’t want to waste his time. Clearly, though, he had been hoping for more. Direct words were never his forte. It only seemed natural that he would want more out of those around him.

“It was just like a dream I had in high school. I couldn’t have prayed for more and seen it any other way.” Calypso began after another moment. His eyes never left hers. There was something a bit reassuring about that.

“It felt like there was a magic in the air that you could touch. One that was old and strong. Something that only you guys could really awaken from whatever slumber it had taken. Something that couldn’t ever be replicated again if you tried.” She continued. “Not that anything about Zeppelin ever seems replicable. That’s what makes it so special.”

Robert had always inspired her with the way his words just seemed to spill out of him. It was like a stream of consciousness, one built strongly on mythology and elegant, knowing phrases. There seemed to be no thought to it. It just, was. It was what she envied most about him. Well, perhaps that and his hair.

“If I could have closed my eyes, I could have easily convinced myself it was a simpler time in the world. That it was the heyday of you and the world spun a little bit slower. Not that I could have closed my eyes. God, I was much too transfixed on you. I’m sure you felt that same power too.” She grinned. Her confidence seemed to be returning to her. How? She wasn’t sure. By all rights, his undivided attention should have reduced her down to a squirming mess. It seemed to be doing the opposite, though.

In her normal, everyday life, she would never describe herself as confident. She was a bit shy and tried to stay in the background as much as possible. It wasn’t that she didn’t like to talk to people. Back home, she had enough friends to keep her sane.

In her strange fear or coming off as a bumbling fool, her confidence had run away. Robert was naturally the cause of this. It was so fascinating to her that he should be the one that also brought it back. Not only had he returned it, though, but he had somehow made it better than it ever had been.

“I must have done something right in a past life to get a chance to just be here.” She said. To that, Robert just cocked his head. It was the first thing he did besides just nodding along, trying to get more out of her. Of course he would want more now. “I surely thought I had used all my luck to just get here, to this show. Apparently, there was just a tad bit more in store for me.”

“Now, what would you mean by that?” There was a knowing smile on his face. Robert was pushing her to admit what she meant, directly out loud.

“Meeting you, or running into you rather. I couldn’t dream of a better gift, a better end to what already felt so unreal.” She blushed once all the words left her mouth. It was then that she realized all of what she had said.

“I believe it was I that ran into you. A gift typically doesn’t knock one flat on their ass.” Robert said with a kind smile. His hand slipped to the small of her back. That slight touch sent a jolt up her spine. It had just been enough to also break her from Robert’s eyes to see the world around her. The daze and fog in her head finally cleared.

It was then, and only then, that she realized his hand had never left hers. Or perhaps hers had never left his. In this situation, she wasn’t sure who was supposed to let go first. With Robert, he might never have meant to let go. His hand had simply moved from hers to her back, and the other moved to hold her hand again. From the way he had started to look her up and down, she assumed that to be true.

Calypso glanced around and realized a bit more. The footsteps she had heard were their own. There wasn’t a soul around them. If there had been, surely they wouldn’t have just walked by. It wasn’t exactly like he was dressed to fit in. Robert had clearly changed from his stages clothes, but he still looked the same. Anyone that might have walked upon them would have stopped to talk to him. She was incredibly grateful that no such thing had happened.

In front of them was the end of the sidewalk. She assumed that this was where they would part. A dark limo rested just past the sidewalk. Calypso imagined he would disappear into it. Disappear into the limo and out of her life yet again. There was no other way for this to end. It hurt her, just slightly, but was glad she had a brief moment with him. The way he moved closer to her and held his hand on her back suggested something to the other.

“Let me make up for that, knocking you flat out.” Robert said, a certain twinkle in his eyes. “Perhaps even give you the true 1970s experience, bring us both back to the simpler times you speak of. Or whatever else this magic may allow for.” There was a knowing tone in his voice. He knew that she wasn’t alive for those times. That she was just going off what she had been told.

A surprised look painted her face for just a brief second. Robert was inviting her back. That wasn’t the biggest surprise, though. He wanted to relive some part of his past. Everything she knew about him said he was always one that wanted to move forward. For him to now suggest he may want to the other? She was shocked.

A large grin grew on both of their faces after a second. Robert’s eyes now seemed a bit darker, a little more devious. There was a different look to his face. One that hinted at other intentions than just helping and apologizing to a woman he had simply walked into.

The look on her face transformed from surprise to pure joy. Any chance to spend more time with him was a chance she would take. It would be foolish to think she would be anything special. That hardly even crossed her mind. If she got to be like any of the other girls he had shared his time with, she would be completely ecstatic. Only a fool would deny the offer being handed to her.

“Yes,” she said. Her mind hadn’t truly processed what she said. Not that she would ever regret it. Only a flat denial of his offer would bring regret to her later in life.

It crossed her mind that perhaps even Robert hadn’t fully understood what he said before he it left his lips. His eyes widened a little bit, perhaps in shock. That didn’t seem to matter, though. Whatever he wanted, whatever he had meant or would mean, she would take it.

He opened the limo door with a much larger grin. It seemed to grow every second. “Nothing would please me more, and perhaps please you, than to count you as my date.” He motioned for her to step inside the limo and she did. Anything he said, anything he wanted, she would give him. Part of her expected it to be filled with people.

When she looked around and noticed that it would be just her and him, a shiver was sent up her spin. He sat before her, grinning. “We just have to stop and see everyone else before…” He trailed off with a motion of his hands. “Perhaps have a bite to eat. I believe we both have a long night ahead of us, darling.” He once again motioned his hand, this time for her to join him on the seat. Whatever lay ahead of her, Calypso firmly decided she was ready for.

#the song remains the same #led zeppelin fanfiction #led zeppelin fanfic #robert plant fanfic #robert plant fanfiction

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njcklenjart · 5 years

Text

The days that follow Paris are a strange middle ground of uncertainty. Newt knows to stay, to keep with his brother, with Tina and Jacob, but not what to do while he waits for the past to fade and his future to take hold.

When not dealing with his creatures, Newt finds himself remaining out of his case. He spends mornings with Nagini, discussing her ailment, and Tina comes in and out of his day like a refreshing breeze. Today he entertains himself watching Jacob take stock of Theseus’s kitchen. Nagini sits at the table by the window, her head pillowed by her arms, and even in the light of the late afternoon, she still appears heavy-hearted.

The Muggle pulls out a bottle from the pantry and raises his eyebrows. “How is this cold?”

Newt cracks a smile. “A simple spell, but the effects are actually fascinating if you think about it.”

The Muggle appraised the bottle, overly captivated by such a little thing. “If everyone used magic, them General Electrics would be out of business.” He nudges Nagini playfully. “You think I can give this wizard kitchen a whirl?”

The maledictus blinks out of her daze and gazes the space with somewhat revere. Theseus hadn’t wasted a galleon on the place, the kitchen large and colored in a clean coat of blue paint that was calming, supporting a pristine oven and sink combination that set Newt’s to shame. “I’ve never been in one so nice.”

“Ever bake in one?”

She shakes her head.

“Well, you’re about to learn Grandma Kowalski’s butterscotch recipe! She used to put it in everything she baked. I’d have cake to last me the week.”

“Cake?”

“You know…please tell me you’ve had cake before?” When she shakes her head again, Jacob looks struck. “That’s it! We’re making it immediately.”

From there, the Muggle is an unstoppable force, hurrying from one end of the kitchen to another, gathering all he needs. After some gently nudging Nagini follows carefully, graceful and strange in the way she moves, peaking over his shoulder when he writes down a general recipe by heart. Yusuf emerges from his room after his third prayer of the day to silently watch the process from the doorframe and Tina sidles up beside Newt, murmuring a soft apology for taking so long from her own recitations.

“Baking makes me feel more like myself,” Jacob says while he easily takes on each task, the contents of the slowly becoming batter. “You know, I learned how to cook in France.”

Yusuf finds that interesting. He takes a looks at the recipe as well. “Did you?”

“A Frenchman named Jacques was the cook where my division was housed. Never seen a man slice up beef that fast.” Jacob keeps talking, filling in the spaces that were previously dominated by unsure silence. And while Newt sometimes doesn’t know what he goes on about, baseball and dentists completely foreign to him, he can appreciate the normalcy this type of conversation brings.

Jacob shows Nagini how to whisk the batter, and comments on how to keep it light, kind and patient at every step. When he’s thrown the platter into the oven and begins explaining how to decorate, Yusuf lets out a small laugh (it’s nice, Newt thinks, and wonders when’s the last time he heard anyone laugh). “You’ve forgotten dinner in your eagerness, my friend.”

Nagini’s stomach makes a soft grumble and she hugs it, blushing. “Maybe a small bite until it’s ready?”

“This place is stocked.” Jacob kisses his fingers like a professional chef. “I’m imagining a feast. What do you guys say?”

“I think we can manage something,” Yusuf says, surprising them all with his compliance. Without any more insisting, he magicks the food to fly from the pantry and begin cleaning themselves, then the knife to get to cutting and peeling. Tina rolls up her sleeves and joins him.

“Looks like you and me are stuck doing it the old-fashioned way, ey doll?” Jacob says cheerfully after he’s fawned over the simple spells. Nagini cracks a small smile. “How about you and me tackle the bread after I finish this up?”

“Newt,” Tina says when he’s left behind, unsure on whether to join and what to do. “Why don’t you help me with the stew?”

It’s a saving grace in disguise as an offer. Jacob waggles his eyebrows at him when he joins her and Newt tries not to think too much into it. He’s made his feelings known and so has she, so best to keep as usual.

Soon the sounds of the kitchen is in full progress and someone tunes the radio in the corner of the room to play a soft melody. Tina tells him of an old recipe she remembers her father used to make, leading him every step; with her own admission, she’s not much of a cook, but Newt’s spent enough time traveling alone that he’s more than capable of shouldering the work where she lags. Working closely, their hands brush often, which causes Tina to tuck her hair behind her ear and Newt to fumble with his wand work, and once or twice the vegetables nearly take a tumble to the floor on their way to the pot. His slip ups aren’t brought up and they manage to replicate the meal well enough.

Yusuf looks to be more in his element, handling multiple dishes at once, each one different than the last, resembling those Newt can vaguely remember from his travels. He and Tina discuss variants and substitutes, and Newt leans against the counter to watch Nagini knead the dough as best she can, risking glances at the pair. The room’s temperature rises and the smells become agonizingly mouth-watering and overwhelming, rich and homey in every sense.

At the strike of the old grandfather clock in the parlor, Theseus arrives back from the Ministry. He pauses in striping off his coat when he spots them, weary and wide-eyed.

“Right on time!” Jacob greets him like a close friend and Newt has a fleeting moment of jealousy before he squashes it down. “Hope you’re feeling up to a potluck!”

“You’ve been busy,” his brother says.

“We made cake.” Nagini playfully claps her hands, creating small clouds of flour.

“Drinks?” Tina offers.

After some searching, they find some firewhisky in the back of a cabinet. Tina nearly upturns the dishes when Jacob tries to take a taste; he’s given some of the Blishen's Fire Cinnamon Flavoured Whisky instead and Newt tries not to be embarrassed at nearly sending his Muggle friend to St. Mungo’s. Nagini prefers butterbeer and Yusuf, surprisingly enough, is easily persuaded for a shot of gigglewater. Theseus hands a glass of brandy to Newt.

The timer goes off sooner than Newt might expect and then everyone’s suddenly going every which direction to get what they need for the last touches. Jacob waves off Tina when she dips a finger in the sauce, makes a half-hearted sigh when Nagini does the same soon after. Newt nearly slips on a spill and knocks over the stack of plates flying out from a cabinet. It’s just a matter of setting everything up after that, and Theseus scrounges around for extra chairs while Tina sets the table with a lazy flick of her wrist.

It’s strange that a group of lost souls can come together and kind some resemblance to normalcy. Theseus looks like he’s still trying to process it all when he’s ushered to a seat, and so is Newt. He can’t remember the last time he and his brother had a meal together; they’d met up in a bar once or twice, but those types of outings usually ended as quickly as they started.

The lights are dimmed until the room is illuminated by the handful of candles set on the table, casting golden hues that shiver and shake, breaking the shadows at every corner. Dinner is set and the spoons are especially eager as they give out servings. One of the loaves is misshapen, but Nagini smiles at it proudly. “You can work at my bakery anytime,” Jacob tells her honestly before digging in.

Pickett peaks out of Newt’s pocket and immediately grabs the attention of the table. He gathers the little bowtruckle in his hands while Nagini takes a small piece of meat from her plate and offers it to him. It’s spit out almost immediately.

Newt chuckles. “Not to your taste, is it?”

Jacob quickly reaches for another dish. “Potato maybe?”

That’s not taken well either, but the Muggle is undeterred, offering more from his own plate; it grows from there, like it’s some sort of game, and they discover that Pickett isn’t opposed to the taste of rice, but won’t touch beef. Nothing of importance to be put in the next edition of his book (if he ever got to it), but he notes it nonetheless. Just like he notes that Nagini enjoys dipping her bread in whatever lines her plate, or Jacob realizes that he was stationed only half a dozen blocks from Yusuf’s family home; that Theseus knows more about Muggles than Newt ever suspected, keeping up with Jacob’s varying terms and phrases, even admitting to playing a few games of poker with a Muggler during the war; that Tina doesn’t care whether or not her food is mixed and digs in eagerly after a quick prayer while Nagini takes time to sample every piece of her meal. It’s the little details that are fascinating in their own way, setting them apart all the while adding a touch of familiarity to the entire situation.

When Picket begins to toss his rejected food, Newt brings out a small piece of wrapper, the the last of the Fudge Flies he’d nicked from the Beasts’ Department. One remains intact while the rest are too melted to even flutter and Pickett finds it far more interesting than anything else offered.

Jacob’s face twists at the sight of the candy. “Ew, gross.”

Theseus sighs. “You never listened when Dad told you to leave them outside.” The words aren’t aggressive in any way and a glance in his direction lets Newt know that he’s not being scolded. He’s given a half-smile instead.

More tuned to pinpoint when he was being spoken about, Pickett blows a raspberry, snatching his desert and hurrying up Newt’s sleeve to eat from the vantage point of his shoulder. Nagini leans in close to watch and Newt’s mouth is already beginning his usual speech about bowtruckles and their attachment issues. Theseus then comments on how this particular bowtruckle can’t handle liquor, much to everyone’s delight and Newt’s embarrassment. Jacob’s laugh drowns out Nagini’s soft giggle until he chokes and Yusuf’s face loses the last of the somberness that’s grown over the past couple of days, as does Theseus’s.

Newt meets Tina’s gaze from across the table, the candlelight reflecting off the dark of her eyes, and it’s like that night in her and Queenie’s apartment in New York so long ago. This time he keeps eye contact and there’s a strange fluttering in his chest, a warm feeling that ushers the gloom of the past away and replaces it with something far more lovely. They share a smile.

Newt thinks that maybe everything will be alright.

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