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blake-belladonna-defence-force · 5 years

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In This Life, I Can Be Your Girl...

So as I writing the update for my dance au (which is now up) @the-batjan made this post; https://the-batjan.tumblr.com/post/189607002712/ok-hear-me-out-guys and I was greatly inspired.

There is a mention of Blake’s mindset during volume 4/5 so there is talk of her self hatred/borderline suicidal mindset. Kali was scared for a good reason.

If that is a trigger for you, please give this story a skip. Look after yourselves, dear hearts. And please let me know if I need to tag anything.

Blake’s still recovering and healing from everything that Adam put her through. It’s not going to be immediate. But she’s learning and growing and she’s allowing herself to be happy. To be loved.

God. She truly is the definition of bravery, huh?

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Yang laid on Weiss’s bunk, happily watching as her partner ran through some checks on Gambol Shroud, her fingers and hands expertly running along it and dismantling the weapon with a quick and sure efficiency.

But that was Blake in a nutshell. Quick, sure, efficient and not to mention deadly. The fact that she took down an Ursa on their first day as partners with one well placed strike said a lot. Perhaps that was why Yang allowed herself to make eye contact.

Or perhaps it was the look in Blake’s eyes. The one that somehow told Yang so much and so little all at once. The one that cried out that she’d been hurt. And the one that refused to give up. The one that told Yang that this was a girl who had seen the depths of hell and eaten with the devil and come out the other side, stronger than ever. And that exact same look was still there today. But it was more confident. More sure of herself. She hadn’t just walked out of hell, but Beaton back her demons and refused to let them turn her into a martyr. And she was so much happier. Her eyes, though they still carried some of that hurt, were brighter and filled with more hope and openess than Yang had ever seen.

‘At least... in this life.’ Yang quickly shook her head. What was she thinking? There’s no way that she knew Blake in another life... Right?

Yang so fucking proud of the woman sitting across from her that it hurt. She didn’t think it was possible to care so much about her and yet, she felt it. That ache in her chest whenever Blake smile and laughed. The way her arms always ached to hold her. How she yearned to tell Blake every single amazing thing about her that Yang admired.

And it scared her. It cared her that she cared so much. It scared her that it could all be taken away in the blink of an eye. And she didn’t know what to do.

Yang watched through the mirror as a small, honest smile crossed Blake’s face and she suddenly felt like she was intruding on a private moment. Blake eyes were soft as she ran her hand along Gambol’s blade, fingers brushing gold in a manner that was almost fond. Yang had her suspicions about the golden addition but kept herself from voicing them. If Blake ever wanted to tell her, she’d listen.

An amused hum drew her attention as Blake met her eyes through the mirror, her smile becoming more lopsided as she quirked a curious brow at Yang.

Now, Yang loved all of Blake’s smiles. But she had noticed that the more lopsided and uneven they were, the more open, honest and vulnerable Blake was letting herself be. An even smile was usually put on, a performance. But the smile Blake was giving her now? Uneven and honest? It was genuine. It was real. And Yang swore that they were even more lopsided around her.

“Can I help you, Miss Xiao Long?” Blake asked playfully, lips twitching into a smirk as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“Uh…” Yang stalled. What should she say? “No?” She gave a too bright grin, nervousness getting the better of her. Blake just had to keep catching her staring at her, didn’t she?

“Hmm.” Blake hummed, amusement clear in her eyes as she stood up, stretching out her muscles with a groan and walking over to Yang, sitting beside her hip and smiling down at her. “I’m sure.”

“Look, there’s not much to look at in this place so my eyes are just drawn to the prettiest thing.” Yang said with a playful smirk as she brought her knee up and bounced lightly against Blake’s ribs.

“Ahhh.” Blake said. “That explains why you’re looking in the mirror. I always knew you were vain.”

Yang sputtered for a moment before pointing at her friend.

“Okay, first of; smooth.” She admitted with an annoyed huff. “And secondly, shut up.” She added with an embarrassed pout.

Blake giggled behind her hand and Yang melted. What was this girl doing to her?

Blake bit her lip shyly, her hand coming up to fiddle with a… necklace? Huh.

“Never took you for much a jewellery girl.” Yang said with a cocked head, eyebrow raising at the blush that formed on Blake’s face.

“I’m not.” Blake mumbled, taking off the necklace and handing it to Yang to show her the ring that was attached. “But I found this inside a piece of fish during lunch with my mother and… well. I decided to keep it.” She shrugged helplessly.

“Oh. That’s kinda cool.” Yang said as she examined the ring. She felt… odd. Like déjà vu or something. As if she knew this ring. “Can I ask why?”

“Well.” Blake looked away, almost ashamed. “Mum and I went on a picnic while I was back in Kuo Kuana. She wanted to tell me a story because she saw that I wasn’t…” Blake’s nose scrunched up as she searched for the right words. “In a good headspace at the time. She reminded me that I was worthy of my parents. Of my friends. That I was also Adam’s victim as much as anyone else. That they wished they could have protected me from him. And that I’ll always have a home in Kuo Kuana.”

“Oh Blake.” Yang breathed, heart aching for the woman in front of her. “They’re your parents. Of course they love you. Of course you’re worthy of being their kid.”

Blake wiped the corner of her eye and smiled sadly. It made Yang’s heart ache in a more unpleasant way.

“I know.” She said shakily. “But I let him get in my head. Let his lies become my reality. And I’m re-learning what I’m worth. What I deserve without him hanging over my head.” Her lips quirked up slightly. “Helps when a beautiful woman can’t keep her eyes off of me for more than five minutes.” She teased gently, expression soft.

Yang couldn’t help but think that this girl was the definition of bravery.

“Oh very funny.” Yang murmured as she sat up and gently cuffed Blake’s leg playfully. “Dork.” She paused for a moment before speaking. “Can I ask what story she told you?”

When Blake told her the story of the faunus princess and the young human noble, Yang felt her heart break a little.

“God.” She breathed. “That’s… wow.” A thought occurred to her. “Wait. Why did your mum think you needed to hear that story?”

Blake looked away, shame making her ears lay flat.

“I told you that I wasn’t in the beat headspace. She was worried that… I might do something I couldn’t take back.”

Yang felt herself go pale. She quickly reached over and pulled Blake into her lap, holding her close and burying her face in her hair.

“Blake.” She said thickly as Blake melted into her hold.

“I wouldn’t have done anything. I just…” Blake verbally struggled for a minute, head buried in Yang’s shoulder. “Didn’t particularly like myself.”

That was obviously an understatement.

“Blake.” Yang breathed into her hair, tears blurring her vision. “I’m so sorry.” What else could she say? She had just learned that her partner, her best friend and the woman she loved hated herself so much that it scared her own mother. How could she even respond to that? “Do you still feel like that?”

“Sometimes.” Blake answered quietly, honestly. “Some days are worse than others. But I’m getting better.” She pulled back and cupped Yang’s face, pressing her forehead against Yang’s softly. “I’m okay.” She whispered, lips brushing Yang’s nose in a barely there kiss.

“Okay.” Yang mumbled. “But I need you know that you can come to us during the bad moments. You can come to me.”

“I know.” Blake said, placing a lingering kiss on her cheek. “Thank you.”

“Um. Here.” Yang coughed as she hand Blake her necklace. “Your-“

Both girls jumped apart when their hands met with the ring in between them.

It was like a jolt of electricity coursed through them, almost seeming to blind them.

It was during that moment of blindness that images flashed through Yang’s mind. Of a beautiful faunus woman with long black hair, black cat ears and golden eyes that felt like home.

She saw the determination in her eyes as she snarled and pressed a blade to Yang’s throat and demanded to know who she was and what she wanted.

She watched as the woman brought her back to her village and demanded that she prove her story.

She witnessed the way the faunus woman’s regard started to soften, her stony exterior melting into something far more tender.

Eyes filled with suspicion shifted to a loving and devoted gaze.

Hands that always held a blade started to carry flowers that would soon find their way into Yang’s hair.

Lips that once snarled warnings soon uttered words of love and adoration.

She felt the heartbreak of their separation and the devastation that she broke her promise to come back home.

And when her vision cleared, she and Blake were both on the floor, expressions matching.

“Did- did you-“ Yang stuttered, not believing what she had just seen.

“See the human and faunus’s lives flash before my eyes?” Blake rasped, eyes filled with unshed tears. “Yeah.”

The two women stared at each other as the pieces slowly came together. The almost instinctual pull that they felt towards each other, the ease with which that they fell into trust, the instant rapport that they developed. They thought of the way they fought together so seamlessly from the start and how Blake didn’t hesitate to throw her weapon to a stranger.

Except… Yang wasn’t a stranger. Was she?

It was why they fell hard and fast. It was why their fighting styles blended so well. And it was why purple and gold screamed home to them.

There was nothing either girl could say as they shakily stood up and stepped over to the other. Their hands entwined on instinct, forehead coming to rest together, that same pull bringing them closer than ever.

When their lips met, Blake and Yang both instantly felt all of their pieces shift, becoming whole for the first time in a long time. Two souls that had been searching for each other for decades longer than they could possibly know, finally reunited.

“Hi.” Yang whispered tearfully as they pulled apart.

“Hi yourself.” Blake murmured against her lips, tears quietly streaming down her face that Yang gently wiped away.

“Sorry it took me so long.”

“Don’t be. I think it took me even longer.”

Yang let out a watery laugh as she pulled Blake in again, hands cupping her jaw as she kissed her lips, her cheeks and jaw.

“I knew that I knew you.” She whispered.

Both women cried and kissed, utterances of love and adoration that neither of their souls had heard for a very long time.

They had both found their way back home. And they’ll be damned if they let anyone chase them away.

#rwby #blake belladonna #bumbleby #yang xiao long #rwby spoilers #rwby dc comics #tw suicide mention

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dayenurose · 4 years

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A little while back @deadhermiteyes posted a lovely piece of Dick/Babs fan art she drew. (View it here! It really is lovely). And she happened to mention that she’d like it if someone would write something based off of it. Which, in turn, kick-started my writing brain and I was inspired to write this piece.

A couple of quick notes… The artist captioned her picture with the line: “We used to leave the galas and come here all the time when we were kids, Dick. They’re gonna find us!” I have included it in the story (with a minor edit). All credit for that line goes to her.

Also, she mentioned wanting something angsty, so there is angst.

[Read on ao3]

Enjoy…

Moving On

The gala was in full swing. Photo ops had been snapped and sound bites gathered. The charity had been praised—a foundation supporting adult literacy programs—and the family thanked for their continuing support. Especially in these trying times.... The evening had marched on at a maddening slow pace until Dick didn’t think he could stand another moment of this farce. Then, as it had always been the case since he was a child, there was a moment when the crowd ceased to pay attention to him and he might as well have been invisible. Taking advantage of this lapse of attention, Dick slipped away from the gala and made good his escape. He had a few minutes before he would be missed.

Leaving the party behind, Dick made his way to the roof. The access door shut behind him on groaning hinges, leaving him alone in the blissful silence of the rooftop garden. Listlessly he meandered along the path which wound in and out of various garden patches, while his thoughts wandered a less steady way.

They had convinced him to come tonight. They had told him it was time, that this was important, but the gala had been too much. Too many people with too many questions. He had to get away. Even if it was only for a moment. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply and took in the cool night air heavy with the promise of rain. This he missed.

From this perspective, high over the city, Dick felt more at home than he did when he was on the ground below, mingling with people he scarcely knew. Playing a role and moving on. He hated that phrase. That was all anyone said to him anymore.

Dick sat along the low retaining wall, confident he would not fall despite being six stories above the ground. Shrugging out of his jacket and loosening his tie, he abandoned both on the ledge beside him. They were strangling him. He could barely breathe as it was. He needed...he needed her.

It had been too long since he’d taken to the rooftops. He couldn’t, not anymore. It would be foolish, irresponsible. He wouldn’t.

Still, Dick could taste the freedom which leaping off rooftops and gliding through the air had always granted him before. It had been too long since he felt like the “daring young man on the flying trapeze.” Oh, how she used to tease him.

Shaking his head as though it were possible to clear his brain of the unwanted thoughts. Too many memories clung to his shoulders —clipped his wings and pinioned him to the ground. The wind bit through the thin silk of his shirt and ruffled his hair. Tomorrow, he told himself, I’ll go back on the trapeze tomorrow. From there, maybe things would look brighter. It had helped in the past. He just needed this tonight.

Retrieving the device from his jacket pocket, Dick turned it over and over again in his hands. He shouldn’t be doing this. He promised....

With a click, Dick turned on the device, set it on the ledge and waited.

“Dick? Are you up here?” Babs’ voice rang through the otherwise silent night. It was too close, while at the same time being far too distant.

Hesitating for only a moment, Dick pushed himself to his feet and stood as still as stone. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be here. He needed to stop living in the past.

“Dick, where are you? This isn’t funny.” Despite the rebuke in her words, there was amusement in her voice.

He didn’t rush to her as had once been his custom. Instead he stayed his mark. If he wanted this, he needed to stay here. To endure the wait, Dick closed his eyes and breathed deeply. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t quite fill his lungs.

“There you are, Hunk Wonder,” Babs called as she rounded the corner of the path. Her movements were slow and a bit awkward. After the experimental spinal surgery started to fail, she had good days and bad ones. More often than not, she spent most of her time in her wheelchair than not. But, for this occasion, she’d felt up to walking.

“Yeah, here I am.” His voice almost sounded normal. Not that she would notice one way or the other.

Dick opened his eyes and openly stared at Babs, drinking in every detail. Her smile lit up her face and a teasing glimmer sparked in her green eyes. At the sight of her, his heart raced in his chest. His expression softened and his lips curled into a smile. This...he needed this.

Her eyes. They sparked with more excitement than they usually did when they met for these secret assignations. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Dick grinned. “I needed to get away for a moment.”

“I know. Me too. No matter how many times we do this, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to all this hobnobbing.” The breeze caught at her hair as she pulled out the pins and allowed the long locks to tumble about her shoulders. The loose braid which had formally accented the updo was quickly lost amid the red curls. She massaged her temples and exhaled a sigh of relief. “That feels better.”

He wanted to run his fingers through her hair, but held back.

Taking a step closer, she shivered and ran a hand over her bare arms. “It’s getting too cold for rooftop meetings.”

“But the view is gorgeous.” His gaze followed the deep v neckline of her dark charcoal dress.

A rosy flush coloured her pale cheeks as she followed the progression of his hungry gaze. “Dick, not here. We used to leave the galas and come here all the time when we were kids. They’re gonna find us!”

“We have a few minutes before anyone will miss us,” he mumbled. Spinning her around so her back pressed against his front, Dick wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, interlacing their fingers. The pose wasn’t as easy or as comfortable, as it had once been. His left arm traced down the length of hers until he captured her hand in his. He tried ignore the missing cool metal of her wedding band. Babs giggled, the joy effusing every ounce of her being.

“The gardens look lovely. You did a great job.” Though he was trying to distract her from the cold and the thoughts of discovery, Dick truly meant the compliment. Babs had helped create this little haven of green in their city. Each of the half dozen or so plots contained a different colorful and fragrant offering.

Never one to forget the hardships of the No Mans Land quarantine, Babs had insisted they include vegetables among the gardens. There were tomatoes and peppers. Heads of lettuce and kale. Zucchini vines snaked their way through the neat rows.

Not far from where he stood now, a small patch of wild flowers grew nearby, offering a colorful bounty of flowers. A trio of beehives nestled among the daisies, clovers, and a myriad of other flowers he couldn’t name. The bee were quiet in the deepening night, though in the morning the buzz of an active hive would begin anew.

Closing his eyes, he dipped his head and tried to prolong the moment. Breathing deeply, he inhaled rose and lavender. The scent he loved—the one he longed for—was missing. Long gone was the subtle, sweet scent of vanilla. Babs had once admitted she preferred a perfume with a touch of vanilla. It reminded her of the old books she loved. She’d explained the chemistry—as the paper broke down, it carried the scent of vanillin. Her passion for books was one of the many things he loved about her. He could not count the number...

“Dick,” Babs’ voice interrupted his runaway thoughts. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Mmhmm,” Dick managed to choke around the lump in his throat, no longer able to pretend everything was okay. No longer able to stick to the script. Babs continued as though he had never missed his cue. He opened his eyes to see her face, needing to see it one more time.

Who was he kidding? Once more would never be enough. Her green eyes are bright with all the potential of bright tomorrows. She flickered in his arms.

“Dick...”

The access door creaked, breaking the moment before she could share the news.

“Daddy? Are you up here?”

Dick started. The image of Babs flickered again as he stumbled back and scrambled for the projector from its place on the ledge. He flicked it off, leaving him once again alone.

“Annie, I’m back here.” Dick dabbed at his eyes with his handkerchief, though he couldn’t hide the red. He didn’t mind if his daughter saw the telltale signs of his tears. After all, It’s okay to cry, had become a near mantra around their home since Babs’ death six months ago. Over that span of time he had cried enough to fill the oceans of the world several times over.

No, he didn’t mind if she found him crying. Rather the problem was that once she located him, his time alone would be over. They would need to rejoin the gala. Once more he would be subject to the pitying glances, the uncomfortable silences, and—God forbid—the empty condolences. People were beginning to move from the ‘I understand, take all the time you need’ to the ‘Why aren’t you over this yet?’.

Their extended family was better, but none of them knew how to help Dick and his children grieve. They couldn’t adopt the family’s usual method for dealing with loss. Cancer left no enemies to beat up. No mystery to solve, no justice to enact. Death’s revolving door stayed firmly shut this time. He was no Orpheus able to charm open the gates of Hades.

Annie found him exactly where he had stood. She clutched a book in her hands, grasping the spine until her knuckles turned white. Allowing her to bring a book was the only way he could get her to come. Behind her glasses, wide, lost eyes searched the gardens. She ran the last few feet to him and threw her arms around his waist in an embrace. With her face pressed into his shirt, it was hard to hear her amid the muffled sniffles. “I was scared when I couldn’t find you. I thought I lost you too.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” Dick gathered his daughter in his arms and held her to his chest. It hurt to look at her. She was so much like her mother with her bright red hair and the liberal sprinkling of freckles. Annie had his eyes—the shape and colour—but he always thought they shone with the same bright curiosity which had been Babs’. Before his legs gave way, Dick sank down to the ledge and resisted the urge to break down in sobs. He needed to be strong for her.

When Annie’s sniffling ceased, Dick relaxed his embrace. Annie slipped out of his arms. A Grayson through and through, his ten year old daughter showed no fear as she sat on the ledge beside him. Her leg bounced in an unsteady rhythm. Resting her head against his arm, they sat in silence listening for the hum of the traffic below.

“Where’s Henry?” Breaking the silence, Dick asked after her twin brother, the two were scarcely seen without the other. He slipped his jacket back on, but left off the tie.

Between all his siblings, Steph, Alfred, Bruce, and Jim—Dick and Babs had never worried about their children at events like these. With the training ingrained into each of them from their nights working together to keep Gotham safe, his family watched over his children. It was almost uncanny how the children passed from one set of watchful eyes to another without the explicit need to organize the process. But, like everything since Babs had died, that too seemed broken. She had held their little world together. When they had Oracle’s all seeing gaze watching their backs, the extended family’s self-appointed mission felt a little bit safer, a little more possible. Now, the Clocktower was empty, the Oracle was silenced.

A sob hitched in his chest. He pulled Annie close and held her tight.

Annie shrugged. “There’s too many people here, so he left with Aunt Cass. Grandpa Bruce knows...”

“You didn’t want to go with them?” He tried to keep his voice light. He didn’t care if she attended the party or not, just that she was safe.

“I wanted to find you first.” She worried her bottom lip. Silently she ticked off each member of their extended family on her fingers as she mentally recalled their locations.

Dick’s heart ached. His bold, vivacious children had turned quiet, never straying far from each other or family. Annie needed to know where everyone was at all times and Henry couldn’t stand crowds. If they hadn’t inherited Babs’ brilliance, there had been rumblings of holding them back a year in school. Dick was all they had now. He couldn’t be risking his life on a nightly basis. He couldn’t leave them orphans.

Annie picked up the projector and turned it over in her hands. “Is this Mama’s...?”

“Yes,” Dick plucked the device out of her hands. His fingers hovered over the switch. From diagnosis to her death, it had been nearly a year. It was all too short a time, but Babs had never given up hope. Even in her last pain filled days, Babs had never stopped trying to find ways to take care of them all. Trying to extend her reach beyond her passing.

In the time she had left, she and Dick had created the projector. Adapting her training room technology, they had created a way to record memories and play them back in lifelike vignettes. They had started with her memories, then his. It was all they had time for, before it was too late. He was suppose to continue adding stories—and the twins’, and her father’s, Bruce’s, his siblings’, her teams’, everyone whose lives she had touched. There had been so many. Once the collected stories were gathered and woven together, they would have a comprehensive record of Babs’ life.

“I miss Mama.” Annie ran her fingers along the spine of her book. It was the last book Babs had given their daughter. Though Annie carried it with her everywhere, she had yet to read it.

“Would you like to see what I was watching?” It was time to share this memory.

She nodded.

Dick flipped the switch. The image flickered to life (a sick feeling twisted in his stomach at that turn of phrase) and paused where he had left the scenario. This simulacrum of Dick and Babs were so young. Even his daughter noticed the difference. She ran a hand through her dad’s hair, now liberally streaked with grey. He no longer tried to hide the passage of time. Pressing the button again, the memory played from where he left off.

“Dick,” The memory-Babs repeated his name, making certain she had his attention. Their eyes locked and the love was unmistakable. Eager and hopeful. Even back then, he already knew what she was going to say. How could he not? Babs took one last deep breath, before announcing her news with a radiant smile. “I’m pregnant.”

The smile on Dick’s face was as brilliant as the sun. He swooped Babs up in his arms and spun her. When at last he set down his wife, he kept a steadying arm around her waist. Lightly pressing his free hand to her stomach, he leaned in and kissed her.

In the present, Dick allowed the image to linger for a moment before turning off the projector. Tears ran down Annie’s cheeks at the sight of her mama alive and vibrant.

“That’s the night we learned about you and your brother,” Dick murmured into his daughter’s hair, holding her close.

“I wish...I wish she could come back to us,” Annie whispered. “I miss her so much.”

“So do I sweetheart. So do I.” Dick closed his eyes and breathed in the night. The subtle scent of vanilla was missing. Their world would never be the same. And it wasn’t meant to be. They would go on, somehow. He couldn’t see the way— yet—but he knew they would find it. Together.

#richard grayson #barbra gordon #dick/babs #fanfiction #inspired by fanart #deadhermiteyes #angst #mourning

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mlqcdokidoki · 5 years

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Kinktober fic - Lucien x MC

I know it's too late to qualify for kinktober but I suddenly got an idea out of nowhere and I had to write it down.

Anyway, here you go, guys!

Trigger warnings : Smoking, blood, very mild gore, vampires, non-con/dub-con, rape, bdsm.

P. S. This is my first smut fanfic so... I hope you guys enjoy it!

@that-wasnt-so-bad @otonymous @otomebois-bb @op-peccatori @pickled-girlfriend @peacheat

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London, 1800s

Harold stood at the window, gazing down at the street in silence, wisps of smoke slithering between his fingers as he looked at the moonlight shimmer on the murky water of the river Thames.

After a few minutes, he drew the curtains close in a swift, but violent move and paced up and down the carpet in front of the long extinguished fire, his mind full of thoughts.

Where is she? No matter how many people I send after her, they have no results or they just...disappear.

A knock on the door interrupted his train of thought, and a quick 'Come in' ushered in a batch of men dressed head-to-toe in black, with various injuries all over their bodies and faces sporting matching expressions of fear and resignation.

The leader of the men, a stocky man in his 30s, stepped forward hesitantly and stuttered out, "Master, we... couldn't find her... "

"You... couldn't find her? Useless bastards! How hard is it to find one girl in London?! Do you think that I pay you all for nothing? Get out of my sight immediately!"

A sharp glare at the group sent them retreating half a step.

"Such fools they are... Half a month and they can't find one weak girl...", he muttered, once again pacing up and down the room, only to be interrupted by a hesitant " M-master... "

Harold whirled around and snapped at them, "What is it? Do you have anything useful to say to me, for once?"

The leader gulped audibly and said, "W-we actually... managed to get a lead on her location, but... There was a, a...monster who slaughtered half of us before we could investigate further. H-he said that we should tell you that...that he is coming...to kill you..."

Harold looked at the man keenly and asked, "A monster...? What do you mean?".

"He... looked like a human, but his eyes - they were blood-red."

"No human can move that swiftly... And there was something... wrong about him."

"As I fled with the rest of my men, I could feel his bloodthirsty gaze on me. It, it was terrifying."

Late at night, Harold sat in his study and pondered over these statements.

It didn't make sense... A monster...? Monsters don't exist.

As he thought about it, his gaze fell on the newspaper of the day lying on his desk, having been placed there by his butler that very morning.

The large headline on the first page drew his attention immediately and as he clutched the paper and read the article in its entirety, he stood up in shock, his forehead started perspiring and his entire being was rattled.

That monster that they spoke of...was a vampire.

He sunk heavily into his chair and pondered about his future course of action.

I have to report this to Sir Gavin immediately.

His hand reached towards the bell to call for the butler, but...It flew off with a spray of blood.

His mouth opened in a silent scream as he turned to the figure enshrouded in the billowing curtains of his open window, but not a sound escaped as his head hit the floor, his last view being that of the chilling grin on the man's face and his blood-red eyes.

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Lucien disposed of his blood-stained clothes, changed into another pair of elegant ones and headed down the stairs to the cellar of his secluded mansion in the suburbs.

He entered the room, which was quite dark despite the bright moonlight that spilled in through the window at the very top.

But this didn't hamper his vision at all as he took in the figure clothed in a thin, white chemise on the king-sized canopy bed at the center of the room, both hands and feet chained to the bedposts and eyes blindfolded with black satin.

His steps silent, he walked to the bed and gazed down at her - her beautiful countenance that was so entrancing that even he, who had lived for hundreds of years and seen many beautiful women, was enchanted by it, and her body that was equally alluring.

He sat on the chair by the bed and gently rolled a lock of her hair between his fingertips as he continued looking at her, his eyes ever so gentle and loving.

Just then, her small mouth parted every so slightly as she muttered in a quiet voice, "... Gavin."

The movement of his fingers stopped abruptly and his gaze hardened as he registered the name she was calling out in her sleep.

Gavin. The heir to a powerful noble house who was also her childhood friend and was absolutely in love with her. After she disappeared, Gavin had frantically searched for her, using all his connections and power to do so, forcing Lucien to...dispose of them periodically.

He had thought that Gavin's feelings towards her were unrequited but... This particular action of hers made him wonder if...if she liked him back.

The thought of it made him quite angry.

It seems that he had pampered her a bit too much and it was time for a... punishment.

He swiftly got up from his chair and with a snap of his fingers, all the candles flared to life, coating all the objects with a golden glow including her.

He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Wake up."

To his satisfaction, she immediately woke up but his anger rose again when she, in a disoriented voice, called out, "Gavin... " until she realised where she was and said, "Master Lucien. "

Lucien chuckled darkly, leaned closer to her and whispered, "Gavin...? Did you miss him very much...?"

Seeing her lack of response, he snarled, "Answer me. Do you miss him very much?! "

"N-no, Master Lucien. "

"Really? Then why did you call out his name in your sleep? Were you dreaming of him? Remember, I hate liars. "

"I don't miss him! Please believe me! "

"... Believe me what? "

"Please believe me... Master Lucien. "

"Good girl. But I still haven't forgiven you yet. I wonder if you're lying...? Well, if that pretty mouth of yours won't say the truth, I'm going to have to make it tell me the truth. "

Then, with no warning at all, he grasped her face between his fingers and kissed her - deeply as if he wanted to devour her mouth.

She struggled in the beginning but she eventually succumbed to the pleasure of his skillful kisses and at long last, when their lips parted, she was too disoriented to think.

Hence, she didn't resist in the slightest, when his hands reached for her nightgown and ripped to pieces exposing the smooth, pale skin underneath.

She cried out and tried to cover her naked body with her arms but all she could do was rattle the chains on her limbs in agitation.

"Master Lucien! Please stop! Please... I've listened to all the things you said and I have cooperated, haven't I? So please, don't do this! "

Lucien looked at her face upon hearing her words but the crystal like tears flowing down her cheeks didn't make him stop. Instead, he savoured it and he wanted to make her cry even more, cry out of pleasure and pain that he would himself inflict on her.

He responded in a gentle but unyielding voice, "Kitten, I know you don't want this but... Trust me, at the end of this, you'll be begging me for more. So give yourself to me. "

Without waiting for an answer, he trailed his fingers over her face, collected a drop of her tears and licked it.

"Mmn, salty. "

He brought his fingers back to her face and touched the point on her neck where her carotid artery pulsed - he could feel the fresh blood pumping through her body and his bloodlust start to surface but he pushed it down, determined to enjoy her body first.

She attempted to scream, but two cold, lithe fingers slipped into her mouth and a quick command, "Suck", made in an authoritarian voice made her subconsciously submit to it and she wrapped her tongue around it, sucking it as she would do to a lollipop.

As he occupied her with his fingers, the fingers of his other hand trailed over her bountiful breasts and circled her pink areolas.

In a quick movement, he pinched a nipple between his fingers, resulting in her biting on to the fingers in her mouth.

"Oh no, I won't let you suppress your voice like this... ", saying this he took his fingers out of her and used both hands to expertly tweak her nipples.

Though she tried to bite her lips and hold it in, the constant onslaught of Lucien's fingers on her breasts was too much for her, and he succeeded in drawing out moan after moan from her cherry lips.

A few minutes of this had reduced her to a panting mess and Lucien had gotten bored with just touching, so he latched on to a breast with his mouth and began to suck, his other hand still working the other breast.

After ensuring that both breasts were bitten and raw, the nipples standing at attention, he trailed kissed down her flat stomach to the apex of her thighs.

She resumed her struggles at this point, attempting to close the legs that he had chained open but Lucien wasted no time in inserting a finger into her.

"Ahh!", she cried out, twisting her body at the sensation of a foreign object in her most secret place.

"Calm down... ", he said, before quickly thrusting his finger in and out of her.

Having not experienced anything like this before, she cried out, "No-"

But Lucien inserted another finger in her, thrusted quickly and her cries turned to moans of pleasure.

Despite having two fingers in her, he was able to thrust them into her smoothly due to all the liquid she had produced, turning the white sheets she was lying on transparent and sticky.

"You said 'No' but you're so wet... "

Saying this, he added a third finger, increased his pace of thrusting and found her g-spot.

Soon after, as he expected, her voice started increasing in volume and she screamed out of pleasure, "AHHHHHH!" as she came, her body twitching from the intensity of her climax.

But Lucien didn't give her the chance to rest as he knelt at the bed side and starting licking her and thrusting his tongue into her.

"Delicious.", he murmured, as he licked, sucked and twirled his tongue inside her, making sure that he paid special attention to her clitoris and drinking up all the moisture she had produced until then.

Over the course of the next 5 minutes, she came countless number of time due to the ministrations of his flexible tongue until she was nearly out of her mind with pleasure.

After he had drank to his satisfaction, he got up from his kneeling position and unlocked the chains around her legs.

With whatever senses she had left, she thought that he had enough and was finally letting her go but her hopes were shattered when he didn't unlock the chains on her arms.

Lucien then started to unbutton his jacket, shirt and cuffs and slid off each item in succession along with his breeches and stockings and then got onto the bed in one swift but graceful movement.

She knew that struggling was futile and frankly speaking, she wasn't as averse to the idea of sex as she was in the beginning.

So she just made a quiet plea, "Please be gentle, Master Lucien... "

"Lucien."

"Wh-what? "

"Just call me Lucien, darling. "

"D-darling...? Anyway, L-lucien, can you please-"

"I'll try. I have wanted this - wanted you for a long time."

Saying this, he slowly spread her legs open, his eyes feasting on the beautiful scenery inside.

Her attempts to restrict his view due to shyness just made him spread her legs wider and almost involuntarily, the word, 'Beautiful... ' spilled out from his lips.

Lucien then guided his already hard penis to her entrance and slowly pushed it inside her.

She was a virgin and her passage was very small and tight but he still persevered until he hit her hymen.

With a quick warning, "This is going to hurt... ", he thrust all the way in and stayed as still as he could while she whimpered in pain as drops of red blood dripped onto the white sheets from their point of union.

He tried to control his urge to roughly thrust into her but the punishing heat of her insides and the way her walls clung to every inch of his penis warped his self control.

When she relaxed and stopped sniffling, he immediately grabbed her hips and moved - the pleasure induced by this action was so much that despite his experience, he moaned deeply.

He had tasted countless women in all his years of life, but none tasted as sweet and were as alluring as her - every thrust made him fall deeper into inextricable pleasure and he felt as if he would never get tired of her body.

The room heated up as the screams of the female and the low moans of the male intertwined as their bodies combined.

He skillfully varied his pace and rhythm and hit her g-spot with every thrust to maximize her pleasure until he could feel the beginnings of her orgasm.

He sped up his pace as he reached deeper inside of her and as she reached the peak of pleasure, she screamed, "LUCIENNNN~~~I LOVE YOU~~~! ".

Upon hearing her words, while maintaining his constant speed of thrusts, he ripped off her blindfold and as unfocused brown orbs met his own crimson ones, he bit down on her ear and whispered, "I love you too. I always have and I always will. "

With these unexpected words ringing in her head, she tried to fully comprehend the weight of them but her sex-addled brain was not cooperating.

Lucien looked at the girl he loved fall apart under him and at the moment of her climax, he licked her neck and bit it with his fangs.

The sudden influx of pain and pleasure sent her spiralling into another climax and as she lay in the aftermath of it, light-headed from blood loss, she realised that Lucien still hadn't climaxed and was still continuing to thrust into her - if anything, his penis seemed to be even larger and harder than before.

Her cries for mercy went unheard as Lucien proceeded to flip her onto her back and pound into her doggy style - his penis reaching the depths of her vagina and rubbing against her already swollen and sensitive walls.

He was so far gone that none of her pleas would reach him anymore - he felt as if he was going insane from the pleasure and he wanted to have sex with her for all of eternity.

Hours passed by as she wandered the borders of consciousness and unconsciousness, fainting due to his rough sex but awakening only to see the same image on repeat - his eyes with a slightly crazed glint in them, pounding into her without mercy.

In all this time, Lucien had only come twice, each time sending his seed deep inside her and filling up her insides to the brim as she twitched in his arms out of pleasure.

He would sometimes take a second to appreciate the glorious sight of his cum spilling out of her but would resume his rigorous pace right after.

Sometime in the middle, he had unlocked the chains on her arms in favour of trying out other parts of the room - they did it on the chair, the table, against the walls, while she was tied to a cross - they explored every inch of the room and marked it with their bodies and liquids, the entire room smelling of - them.

Finally, when the light of dusk on the third day spilled into the room, Lucien climaxed for the last time, coating her insides and every inch of her bare skin with a hot spray of cum.

He observed her unconscious figure on the now dirty sheets that were crusted with all manner of liquids and felt himself get hard again, but he suppressed it for her sake as 3 straight days of sex would have already been too much for a frail human like her.

After confirming that she was just unconscious, he bathed, changed his clothes and personally drew her a bath.

With gentle touches, he washed her of all his liquids, wrapped her in a bathrobe and after dismissing the servants, he took her to his bedroom in the main part of the house.

As she slept, her face peaceful and calm for the first time in 3 days, he pressed a soft kiss to her swollen lips and murmured, "You're mine. No one can ever take you away from me... "

"....I won't let them. "

As he said this, he stalked to the large French windows and gazed at the moonlight bathing the streets of London with a gentle but cold glow.

----- * -----

Meanwhile, in the heart of the city

Gavin slammed his fist on his desk as he read the letter that was just handed to him by his butler.

"Dead again?! That's the 4th one this month! Damn it all, this bastard is really cunning. "

He threw open the curtains and stood at the window, the pale moonlight making his face look paler than it already was as he bit his lips and offered a prayer to the moon.

"Please be safe, wherever you are. "

"I promise you, I will find you - even if it kills me. "

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

#mlqc #mlqc lucien #kinktober #mlqc lucien fanfic #mrlovequeenschoice

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mister-tom-a-dildo-lover · 6 years

Text

Strive Pt. 19

{PART 1} {PART 2} {PART 3} {PART 4} {PART 5} {PART 6} {PART 7} {PART 8} {PART 9} {PART 10} {PART 11} {PART 12} {PART 13} {PART 14} {PART 15} {PART 16} {PART 17} {PART 18}

Pair: Tomarry

Rating: M-E(depends)

Tags: Mild Language, Homosexuality, Sexism, Obsessed Tom, Time-Travel/Dimension-Travel, Teacher/Student, Eventual Romance, Teacher-Harry, Grey!Harry, MoD(sort of), Death!being,

Tom began enforcing his demands over his fellow Slytherins. The end of the year exams were coming sooner than any of them would like to think, and for the seventh years that meant their N.E.W.T.s. And as those were always more difficult, they required more studying and consideration than anything else at present.

He wanted the entirety of Slytherin to do well on their exams. Even the somewhat challenged students were expected to scrape by with Acceptables because he refused to have his minions poorly representing him in any manner. And they all knew that if there was so much as one Troll, all hell would be set loose upon them.

Their reviews in class had become more intense as well.

Professor Potter had been the most strict with them because he expected more out of his students than any other teacher had during Tom's time at Hogwarts. He had a mental scale of where seventeen/eighteen year olds should be in terms of magical skills and put them to the test during every class and every club meeting. He pushed them harder than he ever had before and didn't accept excuses.

The interesting thing about his teachings, was that he focused a lot more on defensive tactics even while using offensive spells. Potter didn't want anyone to end up stranded should they somehow get caught in the crossfires of Grindelwald's forces. He wanted to arm them with the means to escape such a situation should it potentially arise, but he did not want them to have to fight for their lives.

And Tom hadn't minded when he realised just what the man he admired was doing. Potter actually cared. Sometimes it felt like the teachers truly didn't care about the students because they were just passing faces. Within seven years this batch would be gone and would be replaced like always. Every school was a revolving door basically. But it was obvious that Potter cared and was trying his best to help their future endeavours.

The man had been new but was sacrificing sleep and time because he wanted to help the students learn more easily. Because he wanted them to actually reach the potential they all possessed. Because Potter saw something in each and every student and decided that it was something worth his attention. Something worth the amount of effort he put in to help them.

Personally, Tom couldn't say he saw the same, but he at least appreciated that Potter would be so optimistic. Even when optimism seemed pointless sometimes. At least Potter had faith in his students. And he didn't judge them based upon prior actions of theirs.

All Tom needed to do was to study as much as possible in between all the small tutoring sessions he'd been giving to the younger students who'd been paying for his help.

He really needed to become a teacher. There was just something about watching people succeed because of him. And he knew it was because of him since so many of those students would still be utterly hopeless without his aid.

Tom had to make sure that when he came to Hogwarts to apply for a job, he did it when Dumbledore wasn't around so he couldn't attempt to interfere. And he knew very well that Dumbledore would no doubt try to put a wrench in his plans even if he didn't know what they were exactly.

The Slytherins were whispering thanks to the recent article in the Daily Prophet. Dumbledore had been landed with major fines though the details had remained private. Still, the knowledge of his suffering made many hearts feel lighter as the N.E.W.T.s drew nearer. The Slytherins were espeically pleased with this information since it felt like the man was finally getting his comeuppance after years of being an arsehole with contradictory views.

Dippet was constantly on edge during meals recently, and it probably had to do with how he hated confrontation. The man was like a wet doormat and didn't really like doing much of anything. He was also relatively easily to manipulate if one knew how.

His former Deputy being investigated made him look bad for never noticing anything he had done before Lord Malfoy lodged a complaint. And people liked to talk in the wizarding world. No one was a stranger to rumours and Tom had heard a few people wondering none too quietly, if he'd been in on Dumbledore's actions because Dumbledore was so famous so he'd get away with more than others would. Had Dippet possibly turned a blind eye to his attitude because of who Dumbledore was? Or had Dumbledore bribed him somehow?

This left the man in a precarious position and he had to tread carefully lest he lose his own job.

Truthfully, Potter would be a better Headmaster than anyone else on the staff.

"Thank Merlin that it's all over!" said Abraxas as he pretended to faint onto one of the green sofas of the Common Room. "I never want to see another book or piece of parchment every again!" he cried dramatically.

"If you wish to become the Lord of your House you'll have to suck it up," said Nott blandly, holding up the very thing Abraxas claimed to never want to lay eyes on again. "Otherwise I'm certain your parents will gladly try for another child if it bothers you that much."

There was a shared look of disgust from all but Tom, who didn't care enough about things not about him to be emotionally invested in them. Tom was busy reading through the review he'd made for his Charms N.E.W.T. and nodded to himself as he noted every single thing that had been asked on the Theoretical exam. And then of course the Practical where he'd scored an extra point for his Corporeal Patronus.

That same day, he'd also taken his Transfiguration N.E.W.T. and he'd gotten an extra five points because of his Animagus form.

Yes, Tom had succeeded! Months ago he'd done the entire ritual to the exact measure and had finally managed to figure out his Animagus form. No surprise, it was a snake. And use of the Room of Requirement allowed him to make use of a room full of mirrors so her could see just what kind of snake he was.

He was an all-black Horned Viper with equally black eyes to show that he wasn't a natural serpent. Horned Vipers weren't black. They were usually shades similar to sand or dirt in order to camouflage themselves more easily. He had two pointed horns atop his head as well as had the venom the common serpents of the species possessed. He was sure of how to use it yet but he'd get there eventually.

And when he Transfigured himself right in front of the examiner, the woman had tittered with excitement and called him a genius as she batted her lashes in exaggeration. She also handed over a form for him to fill out so the Ministry could register him immediately. He'd received high praise for his accomplishment since not many magicals even attempted to become Animagi and certainly never before graduation.

He'd put in the time and effort and while he'd attained his form months back, he'd practiced consistently in order to officially debut it for his N.E.W.T. exam. That way he could do it on command and it seemed more impressive that way.

Perfection was what Tom strove for. Among other things of course.

He'd been assured that he'd set the record for the youngest Animagus in British history. It was a pleasing piece of information and made his day all the better.

Tom always did love succeeding.

And at some point in the future he would have more time on hand to fully explore what he was capable of when in his snake form. He could imagine all the spying possibilities!

Tom entered Professor Potter's office with slight trepidation. He didn't actually know why the man had called him over, but he knew it at least had to be important.

The man was seated as usual, though his hair was a bigger mess than it usually was, and he looked so very tired. Like he was out on the front lines of either war and was just done with everything. There were literal lines on his face.

"Mr. Riddle, I know it's a bit sudden to just be calling up up here but I felt it urgent to speak with you."

"Is this about my N.E.W.T. score, sir?" No one could blame Tom for being worried around his grades. They were the most important things to him at present. All Tom really had to his name was his intellect. And Parseltongue, but for things publicly expressed, his intelligence was it.

The older man shook his head. "I simply felt it better to inform you of this in private. London was bombed yesterday."

"Again?" was the only thing he could ask. Over the past several years, London had been perpetually bombed over and over. He'd managed to never be there personally when it happened, but London was a major city and as such, it was often a target of the Nazis. Still, mid-June of 1944 and they were still bombing London!

Why anyone would choose to continue living in such a place when it was constantly under attack made no sense to him. The orphanage itself had been lucky enough to escape any damage, not that the buildings around it were lucky enough to say the same. In fact, on the very block of road, Wool's was the only building still relatively intact if one didn't count the already numerous damages from years of disrepair. It was over a century old after all.

"I'm afraid so. The bombs were a lot larger this time and caused considerable damage. I felt it best to warn you ahead of time. I do not know if you intend to go back once you graduate or not, but it's always best to be aware or your surroundings."

Thank Merlin Tom had in fact not been planning to go back. And really, who would miss him in that hellhole he grew up in? They'd just think of him as another casualty of war and for once he wouldn't mind that in the least. Their opinions meant nothing to him. He'd be doing things they could only dream of once the time came.

"I won't be returning there, sir. But thank you for your concern."

He was… dare he say, touched that the man felt enough concern over his well being. No one ever truly had before. Not that Tom ever really had anyone that would care about him anyway.

Potter smiled a small smile that was filled with both sadness and relief. "Forgive me for intruding but will you have somewhere to stay after the term ends?"

Not really. He could probably get an invitation to spend the summer with Abraxas, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to. On one hand he wanted to be on his own to do things on his own and explore his interests on his own, but on another he longed to remain at Hogwarts. He knew he'd miss everything but the other students.

"I'll take your silence as a negative."

Tom willed his face to not blush because he didn't like blushing and didn't like expressing common emotions. And he didn't want Professor Potter to see him when he wasn't in perfect control. The man had already seen enough emotion from Tom and Merlin forbid he see more.

Potter fiddled with his spectacles for a moment, tossing them between his hands without a thought. "As you can imagine, I am being stretched a little thin when it comes to all the work I'm doing now. I simply have too much to focus on at present and I might need some assistance come the new term."

Was he honestly doing what Tom thought he was doing? Tom held his breath in anticipation, afraid to get his hopes up too much.

"Perhaps you can apply to be a Teacher's Assistant. Mine, to be more precise. And you and I would have control over the DADA classes and would be working together to instruct the students. I will still maintain control over the Dueling Club, but my duties as Deputy Headmaster are unfortunately very taxing and time consuming, and there is more to do than you'd think."

"Yes," was all Tom could say. Because he'd been given essentially what he'd wanted. He would work at Hogwarts and stay where he'd longed to be. He'd have a guaranteed place to sleep and food every day. And he would have access to the Library and wouldn't be forbidden from the Restricted Section because he would no longer be a student. And he'd be around Potter every single day. It was all he could ask for.

Potter smiled much brighter this time, and Tom could feel the odd lightness in his stomach in response to how charming the man appeared. And how effortless it was for him too.

"I'm glad. You are a model student. You are intelligent and from what I've heard of your N.E.W.T. scores, you set some records. And the benefit of assisting me will aide you in the long haul. Especially when I intend to win that Dueling Mastery come July."

Ah, yes. If the man managed to become a Dueling Master, then Tom would be able to learn more from him than a usual student would and no one could claim favouritism.

"Thank you, sir."

"In order for us to truly mesh well, we'll need to spend this summer getting better acquainted, don't you think? I'll inform the Elves that your possessions will be moved to your new room post haste."

Tom was going to be working at Hogwarts. Despite the unpleasant news about London, this ended up being a great day for him.

The very last day. As a student at least. This wasn't Tom's last day at Hogwarts in general, but he was still feeling a little emotional at the thought of how a few weeks ago he'd been under the impression that he'd have to stay in Diagon Alley all summer, possibly struggling to get by until he could hopefully apply for a job at Hogwarts. Possibly having to listen to the explosions not too far away from where he'd sleep. And now he was sure of the fact that he was going to be okay. He was in the safest place in the British Isles.

Nothing could get to him here. And Professor Potter was perfectly fine with him staying over the summer. In fact, he wasn't the only one staying. With Dumbledore no longer in Dippet's favour, Dippet was easier to convince of certain things. And Potter was the favourite professor, as well as his Deputy, so listening to him was a good idea.

Four other muggle-raised students would be staying over the summer because they too lived in London and it was too dangerous to go back yet. Potter had already set up rooms for their families to use if they had to come to Hogwarts to escape the tragedy. Tom had already seen the tears of absolute gratitude for the man's actions and would admit to himself alone that he'd also felt a little emotional as well.

How was it that Potter could understand the absolute seriousness of the muggle world war, but Dumbledore, a fellow Halfblood just like them, couldn't?

It was like every time he turned around, Potter gave Tom another reason to admire him.

Tom's only regret was that Potter hadn't come to them years ago, where he would have no doubt done something then as well. Tom wasn't blind to the fact that some students never came back. And he understood exactly why things like that happened.

If only Potter, or someone at least like Potter, had been around when the bombings had started. Tom could think of so many students who would still be here.

A lot of magical people liked to claim they cared about muggleborns and muggle-raised children, but even the most Light of magical users overlooked those very people all the time. Sure, they bent some of the old laws and traditions to better cater to those new individuals, but did they ever really stop to think about truly integrating them into their society? No.

It was a glaring fault in all magical communities around the world.

But Tom could see that Potter wanted to change that. Because he actually gave a damn about everyone.

A/N: London was actually bombed during mid-June of 1944. It was the first use of a specific type of bomb too.

#Tomarry #fanfiction #Strive #Watermelonsmellinfellon #Tom Riddle

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tarysande · 7 years

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Fic Update: Any Four Walls: Pantomime

Also on AO3

Pantomime

When she installed herself on the flight deck, Joker only nodded and offered a brief grunt of greeting. If she hadn’t already known how distraught he was, that grunt would’ve been a dead giveaway. His hands flew over the haptic interface, adjusting their approach vector just enough—she hoped—to give them a moment of surprise. Kaidan sat at the station to Joker’s right, manning communications. For a moment, she saw the slightly-different cockpit of a different Normandy and half-expected the voice of a dead man to summon her over the comms.

Instead, Joker hissed an expletive that would have shocked even Jack and said, “We’ve got a situation.”

She leaned over his shoulder, scanning the stars. There. The ship was small against the vastness of space, looking like a toy discarded by a child when something newer and shinier came along.

No.

She couldn’t think about children.

“Kaidan?”

“Sorry, Shepard.” His hands were moving now, too. “No—there. It’s sending out an SOS. Turian frequency. Pretty weak.”

“Is it the Enixus?”

She already knew, though. Kaidan’s nod only confirmed what her gut was screaming.

They drew near enough to see the atmosphere venting into the dark from a gash in the ship’s starboard side.

“Life signs?”

“Too much interference.”

She remained locked in parade rest because what she really wanted to do was punch something. A wall. The piece of equipment whose news was always bad. “Of course.” When she had the urge for violence under control, she said, “Bring us in quiet, Joker. I’m going over.”

Kaidan turned in the seat, fixing her with his dark, too-perceptive gaze. “We are.”

“Everyone likes to forget my background. N7 Infiltrator, remember? In and out, no biotic explosions necessary.”

But Kaidan was already rising, expression as close to mutinous as she’d ever seen it. “Garrus said you’d try and pull something like this, you know. I thought you’d consider how long you’ve been off active duty and go with common sense.”

“If you’re suggesting I stay—”

He held up a hand to stop her. She added his face to her list of things she’d consider punching, though his words went some little way to redeeming him. “I wouldn’t dare, Shepard. I mean that. But we have no idea what’s going on over there. Don’t go in alone.”

Joker hunched in his seat as if pretending a Spectre showdown wasn’t happening above his head. Shepard sighed. “You gonna question every decision I make, Alenko?”

“Only the stupid ones. Ma’am.”

A very, very faint smile pulled at one corner of her mouth. “Fair enough. Suit up, Alenko. And find Jack.”

“And Garrus?”

She shook her head. Kaidan winced. “I’ll talk to him.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You almost died a few—”

“Don’t,” he snapped.

Shepard crossed her armored arms over her chest, meeting her husband glare for glare even though she had to crane her neck a bit to do it.

“Do you honestly want me to pull rank here, Shepard? Is that it?”

“No,” she said. “I want you to run the op from the ship.”

“You want me to sit on the sidelines. They’re my kids.” The way his voice broke nearly broke her resolve; she had to look away.

“Garrus,” she said, softly.

“Don’t Garrus me. Not about this.”

“Fine.” She brought the heels of her hands up to her eyes and pressed hard enough to momentarily see stars. “I need you on my six.”

“That’s more like it.”

Lowering her hands, she said, “That’s here. On the ship. Running the op. Waiting for Liara’s intel. And manning the Thanix as only you can if the bastards try and pull something that needs the big guns. Which they probably will.”

“Because this is obviously a trap.”

“Obviously.”

He shook his head, but not in disagreement. That fight had gone out of him the second she said on my six. He took a step toward her. She took two, wrapping her arms tight around him. One of his hands cupped the back of her head gently. “I hate it when you’re right.”

Shepard snorted. “Yeah, well, the feeling’s mutual.”

“You told Alenko you were going in alone?”

She said nothing. Didn’t have to.

He brought the side of his face to the top of her head and nuzzled it. “Bring our kids home, Shepard. I’ll watch your back.”

Shepard wasn’t sure what it said about her that all her nerves and anger and panic settled the second her boots hit the floor. The weight of her gun grounded her. Despite Kaidan’s—and even Garrus’—fears, having a mission with a clear objective focused her. Get in, get out. Rescue mission. Keep a low profile.

She’d done dozens of these over the years.

And Aratoht didn’t count.

They’d entered through the gash in the side of the ship instead of aiming for the airlock; no use announcing themselves before they had to. She gestured silently and Kaidan arced out to her left, omni already up and scanning, in case proximity could provide better readings. Behind his mask, his brows furrowed. She didn’t need the shake of his head to know he’d had no luck.

She clipped her pistol to her side and peered through the scope of her rifle. The thermal scope picked up Kaidan and Jack’s signatures, but couldn’t see through the walls.

Good walls, then. She frowned. Traders usually dropped their credits protecting the exterior of their ships; having the kind of interior walls that could defy an even more top-of-the-line thermal scope than one could currently find even on the blackest of markets—unless they, too, were personal friends of Solana Vakarian—smacked of paranoia. At the very least.

She brought up her own omni, then, and ran the scanning program that had gone not only through Solana, but through Tali and Garrus and herself, as well. Like the scope, it read the current room clearly—the surveillance camera over the door was obvious; the three different bugs running on completely different frequencies, less so—but everything outside was dampened.

Using signals instead of words, even on their private frequencies, Shepard directed Kaidan to one side of the door and Jack to the other.

Shepard knew damn well that her omni-tool was fitted with the best tech money (and connections) could buy, and then some.

It still took her decryption program an agonizingly long time to crack the door’s code.

Definitely a trap.

Definitely not just traders.

Shepard activated her cloak the moment the door began to slide open, waiting for the immediate attack that never came. After a slow count of five, she ducked into the corridor. Lights flickered above, casting half the hallway into stark shadows, but no one waited for them. No shots pinged off her shields. Kaidan and Jack followed as soon as her tactical cloak shimmered and vanished. Once again, scanning revealed nothing. An empty hallway; walls that kept their secrets close.

No cover.

No debris at all.

Her frown deepened. Any attack that could leave damage like the destruction of the room behind them should’ve had more of an effect elsewhere. Even with impenetrable walls. She began flicking through frequencies until she found the one the ship was using to send out its weak cry for help. After listening to the generic SOS three times, her earpiece crackled. Music, loud enough to cause pain, blasted. Fighting the instinct to shut it off completely, she turned it down as much as she could.

The melody was familiar. Human, definitely. Something full of pomp and military bravado.

She went cold when she recognized it.

A very particular anthem. One rarely heard. One she’d heard twice. Once after Elysium. Once after—after everything that had happened later.

One she’d tried to avoid hearing both times.

They played it when they bestowed the Star of Terra. Only then.

Jack touched her arm; Shepard shook her head, tapping the side of her helmet and signaling them to wait. She didn’t miss the look Jack and Kaidan exchanged.

When the last triumphant note roared and faded, the desperate, wailing cry of a child replaced it.

Her child.

“Rose? Rose?”

But Rose wasn’t the child who answered. With the screaming still raw in the background, Tyrra, breathless, subharmonics practically screaming her terror, said, “Sh-shepard? Shepard? Is that—you have to—they’re going to—she promised she’d give Rose back—I don’t know—I don’t know what they’re doing to her!”

“Shh, honey,” Shepard said. She didn’t brush off Jack’s hand this time, though she did signal for Kaidan to keep his eyes on the scanner. “Where are you? I’m here. I’m coming to get you.”

Tyrra began to speak again, but was replaced Matta Casarus’ harsh whisper. “Admiral Shepard? Thank the Spirits. They’ve got us pinned—”

“Cut the shit,” Shepard snapped. “I’m here. Just like you wanted. Walked into your elaborate little pantomime, just like you wanted. If you don’t release my daughters immediately, I will kill you. Do you understand me? I will put a bullet in every body that stands between me and them. Without mercy.”

Casarus’ voice changed at once. Cold, smooth. Too smooth. “This is how Earth breeds heroes, then? I prefer turian ones. They understand honor.”

Shepard inhaled sharply. “Is that what this is? You’re torturing my kid to prove some kind of point? I don’t know what the fuck I ever did to you, lady, but if—”

“You killed someone important to me. As important to me as these foundlings are to you. More important.”

Her stomach twisted. She ignored it. “Then take it up with me. They’re innocent. They are innocent. Let them go and you can have me. No contest. No fight.”

Even the woman’s laugh was cold. Bitter as the wind on Noveria. “So noble. No wonder they love you.” Casarus sighed. As if she was bored. With Rose screaming. “You said it yourself, Shepard. It’s pantomime. It’s theatre. Time to give the audience what they want.”

Before she could do more than open her mouth to reply, the line went dead. Rose’s cries stopped so abruptly, Shepard clapped her hand to the side of her head, as if this would bring her closer, tell her where to go.

“What the fuck, Shepard,” Jack breathed.

“Can we get a message back to the Normandy?”

Kaidan shook his head.

Shepard swallowed, shuffling plans in her head and rejecting them before they could finish forming. “Then we move. She’s already proven she’ll hurt the children. We have to hit them harder and faster than they expect.” Shepard lifted her Widow. “Jack. Point. Don’t hold back. Make them show their faces so I can remove them.”

#any four walls #shepard vakarian family shenanigans #shakarian #garrus vakarian #femshep #rose and tyrra #my fic #fanfiction #fictober #mass effect

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taki118 · 7 years

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What Time Allows Us

Samurai Jack semi AU fanfic oneshot, (I just needed get my feels out ok will be posting to other sites eventually) has jashi but more just what I hoped to have had happened. (Multiverses for the win!)

Summary: In the years following the finale, Jack has resigned himself to the daze of everyday life when a surprising visit brings him even more surprising news.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed since that day. Time meant so little now, but when he looked in the mirror, there were signs of change. Fine wrinkles now appeared where there was once only smooth skin, bits of grey poking out of his jet black hair. Now that he was back in the past, or rather the present, it seemed he was able to age once more. Still, Jack hardly noticed. The days, they seemed to mesh together for him. It worried his parents; but after fifty years of constant fighting, this peace was nice. Though, he could not deny, it would be much more enjoyable if she were here.

“Son…” His mother started hesitantly over her tea, rubbing the smooth stone in a worried manner. “We know what you went through was difficult but…..you just seem…” Jack watched her from over his cup, confused. He’d never seen her so concerned, it was odd.

His father interrupted. “Listless, without drive or purpose. I know this is partially our doing. We raise you to defeat Aku, but little else. We are just worried that you are…”

Jack raised a hand to silence his father, gently placing his own cup down.

“I am sorry that my behavior has worried you both. But you have no need to fear, I am just enjoying the serenity. It would do her a disservice for me to loose myself in grief.” Yes, he knew this to be true. But some days he could not help but lose himself in the memories of her, no matter how short their time together was. He would not lose himself again. His parents gave him small smiles before glancing at each other, then back to him.

“Well then maybe you’d- uh- be open to-” His father stuttered awkwardly. Jack gave him a confused look. “A meeting for an arranged….”

Before the emperor could utter another word a loud boisterous noise came from the town's square through the ope window. A noise Jack couldn’t help but feel was familiar, but no it could not be. Still he rushed out, without a word, towards the square. The noises becoming more understandable the closer he got.

“Oi you see my buddy, Jack?” He heard, that name had not been uttered in so long. “Hey I’m talking to you!! Have you seen Jack?” That grating voice. Jack never thought he’d be so happy to hear it again. His feet seemed to move faster and faster with each stride.

“Daaaaaadddddd, you can’t keep yelling at people like that.” It was strange how nostalgic the scene before him made him feel. The rowdy Scotsman, still a ghost, the man would never be at rest, with his daughter arguing in the middle of the town square surrounded by confused and scared villagers. Acting as though they were the only people there.

“Prince!” One of the villagers shouted.

“You have to help us! These people are looking for someone named Jack. They will not leave.” Another cried having come up to him, the Emperor and Empress following a ways behind.

“JACK BOYO!” The spirit shouted floating up and trying to hug the man, his arms passing right through him. “Haha right I keep forgetting that, Flora dear help yer daddy and hug Jack fer me.”

With an exasperated sigh the woman approached the far smaller man. “Sorry about this.” She lifted Jack up in a tight, almost painful embrace. “I know it's a little weird…” She said putting him down.

“No, no. I understand. You father is very….” He stopped thinking for a moment before saying “Adamant.”

The pair laughed as the specter grumbled shouting “SHUT IT!” This too, strangely enough, he missed.

“Son who are these people?” The Empress asked cautiously a worried expression on her face, and a flush on her cheeks at Flora’s manner of dress.

“And why are they calling you Jack?” Asked the Emperor, seemingly more confused by the talking ghost.

“Well that’s his name.” The Scotsman defended..

“Well yes in a manner of speaking.” Jack corrected. The spirit frowned.

“WHAT?! Either it is or it isn’t”

“Well it both is and isn’t”

“IT ACK it can’t be both!!”

“Well you see when I was sent to the future…”

“You mean to tell me, I didn't even know my best buddies real name!?!”

Everyone watched on as the pair argued over a name. Well, the Scotsman argued. Jack calmly explained himself, only increasing the other man’s ire. Jack missed this too, people in this time never spoke in such informal manner. But in seeing his parents concern Jack ended the argument. “Perhaps we should speak somewhere more... private?” It took a little convincing but eventually the spirit conceded.

“Wow, such a lovely home.” Flora commented never before seeing such architecture.

The Empress smiled at the comment. “Your- um homes are not like this?”

The large girl gently shook her head. “No, ours are made of stone.” If the outside excited her, the inside made her awestruck. Everything looked so delicate, she was almost afraid to step inside.

“You raised such a sweet girl.” The Empress praised the Scotsman.

The spirit swelled with great pride at the comment. “She's me pride and joy.” He sniffed wiping an ethereal tear away. “Well her and my forty others. But Flora’s the eldest and always took the best care of her daddy. Ahhhh she’s almost as gentle and sweet as my dear departed bonnie lass.” Jack nearly dropped the tea a servant kindly brought them at the memory of the man’s …sweet and …delicate wife. “You know I was hoping yer son there would marry one of em.” He announced, unabashedly.

His daughter flushed, “DDAAADDD!!” deeply embarrassed.

“Well I was. I ain’t no liar, and if he was going to marry anyone’s daughter it shoulda been mine not…” The man had enough decency to catch the look Jack gave, but did not pry. “Well uh anyway…you must be wondering why and how we’re here huh laddie?” He asked a tad more reserved. Jack nodded, curious despite the joy of seeing an old friend. “Well see some of them science-y types said something about converging timelines and alternate planes of whatnot to avoid para….something or other..”

“Paradoxes dad.”

“Right right, that. Basically you got this uh timeline here where you kill Aku before he ruled the world and ours where that girl of yours did it.” The Scotsman was interrupted by the sound of shattering stone. Everyone’s eyes turned to Jack as he stared at the broken teacup lying in a puddle of tea.

“Ashi…..is alive?” He managed to get out, attempting to mask his face. He felt joy, confusion, and sorrow all at once and somehow managing to fail at hiding them all. While his parents looked on in concern and uncertainty, the Scotsman and his daughter nodded.

“Aye, that she is.” He replied.

“After you went back to the past, she came back with yer sword, she sliced and diced until he was nothing!” Flora announced excitedly swinging an imaginary sword as she retold the memory, deeply ingrained in her mind. Jack could almost picture it, his sword had vanished after the final fight he’d always just assumed since the deed was done it was no longer needed but…. “But well we can’t really say Aku is gone.” She continued shyly sitting back down. “I mean Ashi absorbed him into herself. So I guess you could say she’s Aku now….” Jack’s eyes widened at the statement, scared for what had become of her.

“BUT but! She’s using that power for good. She’s been helping the lot of us fight back those degenerates Aku allowed into the world and taking back all the evil he let seep out.” The Scotsman clarified for the worried man. “Folks taken to calling her Empress.” He laughed. “She don’ like that much though.” Flora joined her father in laughter.

Jack smiled to himself, picturing her alive and well in this other world. How many times did he picture that? Far more than he cared to admit he supposed but then… “Why- how are you both here? I thought all of the time portals…”

The Scotsman nodded with a smirk. “They were but you remember those salamander monks?” Jack nodded recalling how he himself destroyed that portal. “Well that one came back and Flora and I jumped through to get you.” He announced, proud of himself.

“See the other planets that Aku had dealings with have been invadin’ cause... well he's not there to frighten them anymore. Don’ even get me started on the ones who won’ leave. And not everyone trusts Ashi. They think she’s another Aku. Things are a bit crazy right now.” Flora explained further. Discourse had been a natural state in the future. The world had been managed by a singular being of power and without that being to fear, the discourse had run rampant. “Dad and I figured if you came back, you could help bring people together. So we looked for a way to find you.” Their plan made some sense, but Jack could not help but wonder….

“Pardon me.” The Emperor spoke up. “But how exactly did you plan to return.” A look of shock washed over the pair’s faces. “These... time portals you speak of, would you not need one to go back?” For a moment the Emperor grew concerned. “Did you not….”

“DAD! You said you had it all figured out!” Flora shouted across the table.

“I figured it’d sort itself out! Don’t you talk back to your father!”

“I can’t believe you…”

Ducking under the arguing pair the Empress whispered to her son. “They are quite…lively, aren't they?” She smiled, despite her discomfort.

“Yes,” Jack replied, “but very good people at heart.” He smiled, his parents looked to each other, uneasy. One question still plagued Jack’s mind however.

“Why did you use the portal at the spring?” He asked, speaking over their shouting. They stopped arguing abruptly. “Could Ashi not simply make one for you?” She had done so for him and with what they said she was even more powerful than she had been back then.

A silence drew over the two, disquiet settled over the room as the Scotsman and his daughter searched for the right words. Worry washed over Jack, was Ashi perhaps in danger?

Flora took a deep breath, “You see Jack- Ash..i she didn’t…”

The Scotsman quickly shushed his daughter. “Nah nah I’ll handle this dear. Look, Jack- this was all our idea. See laddie, uh um well she…”

“Refuses to allow the Samurai to come to the future.” The voice cut through Jack like a knife. He never dreamt he’d hear it again and yet it sounded wrong somehow.

Without a doubt it was hers, his Parent’s faces mirrored his own shock and disbelief. A small tear in reality appeared behind the Scotsman, a rippling of white and black that widened until a portal opened, A room visible beyond it, an unfamiliar form standing with their back to them.

“Ashi….” Jack whispered like a prayer.

“I told you two to leave it be.” Her once warm voice sounded cold and distant, Jack wondered just what had happened since he last saw her. “You two may return, but the Samurai stays in the past.” She did not wish to see him, Jack wasn’t sure what crushed his heart more the memory of her disappearing or the knowledge she did not wish to see him.

“But we just thought this would….” Flora started trying to explain their actions.

“I SAID, NO!” She shouted from the void, Her fist lashing out to catch on something out of view. Her shoulders shook in an effort to calm herself, “Come back now your daughters and sisters are worried….” she spoke softer.

“Ashi.” Jack called out, he swore her shoulders stiffened under what he could only assume was a large cloak. “Why won’t you look at me?” He asked staring at her back. She seemed to collect herself for a moment bringing her arms to hold herself steady. “Why will you not speak to me?”

“The Clans girls are worried. They can’t focus on their duties.” She said calmly, refusing to acknowledge Jack’s question. “You must return, now.”

“I WILL NOT LET THEM!” Jack shouted, catching the occupants of the room by surprise. He stood, walking up to the portal. “Not until you tell me why you refuse to look at me.” He held firm, refusing to blink or move, he wanted to hear her voice, wanted to see her face outside of his memories, outside of his dreams. She was so close and yet so very far.

A stillness washed over the room, and it felt as though they were the only ones there. Ashi did not speak for a long moment, when she did her voice quivered. “Because I’m afraid….” She confessed softly, Jack’s heart ached.

“Why?” He asked, his pain leaking into his voice. He only wanted to see the face of the woman he loved again. Why was she so afraid?

“I’m afraid I’m not strong enough. I will act selfishly.” Her voice wavered as though she were fighting tears. “I wish the version of me I left with you survived, I hoped against hope that it could have lasted……” He heard her force back tears. His hand seemed to act on its own, reaching out to touch her shoulder but unable to. He wanted to comfort her. Hold her. He understood what Ashi meant. Seeing was not enough was it? He desperately wanted her back. “I can’t take you from the home you longed for, for so long. I can’t throw you back into a war when you’ve only just found peace. No matter how much I want you here, I refuse to make you suffer anymore.”

“What do you mean Ashi?” He was suffering now. Just a little more, he just wanted to hear her voice for just a little longer.

“Our scientists say….” She took a deep breath forcing back her sorrow. “If you jump forward in time again, you will exist outside of time. You will not age, cursed to live endlessly in this world. Never knowing peace…..I can’t condemn you to that,” He remembered the endless days and nights, the longing for change... for an end. “Jack.” She said his name like a prayer. He was undone. “This is my path not yours.”

“And this is my choice not yours.” He replied softly.

“Even if the war ends I may not send you back….”

“This is my war as much as yours.” He argued. “You can’t expect me to not fight for those who fought for me.” She couldn’t expect him to leave her now that he’d found her again.

“You will likely outlive them all, you may even outlive me, and I’ll leave you once more with nothing more than fading memories.”

“Maybe I want more memories to hold onto, there are so few good ones to recall.”

The conversation drifted into silence once more. Ashi tightened her grip on herself. “Please Jack you don’t know what you’re asking of me.” She seemed to calm herself, that cold edge returning to her voice as she began walking away. “The portal will close soon, Flora bring your father through. We have work to do.” Jack watched her until she was out of sight.

“Well…” The Scotsman started, “That wasn’t a no.” He chuckled nervously. “I’d say it’s your choice now laddie.” The Scotsman drifted through the portal, grinning back at Jack, his daughter following silently in his wake. Jack stood staring after them through the portal.

In the end she didn’t even let him see her. He thought of those he left behind in that future, the chaos it must be in, the weight on Ashi’s shoulders. And yet he could not act as though leaving did not frighten him as well. He would be leaving behind all that he had worked so hard to come back to. His parents would be alone again, and this time he might not ever come back. He would live for eternity, eventually falling back into a monotonous existence.

His mother silently took her son’s left hand, “We know what you are thinking.”

“Mother-” Jack began, trailing off as his father took his right hand.

“You would not be the son we raised if you were not desiring to help those who helped you.”

“Father”

“We will miss you….” His mother began to cry quietly, a wavering smile on her face.

“But maybe you won’t give us a chance to.” He father forced a laugh through tears. The portal began slowly shrinking.

“At least this time we can properly say goodbye.” Jack stepped through the closing portal, his hands slipping out of his parent’s.

“I love you both so much.” He called back before it could shut completely, the magic taking its effect.

“Now I want you to help your sister in quadrant…..” Ashi was spoke.

“JACK LADDIE!” The Scotsman called out. Slowly Jack got to his feet. “AH KNEW YOU COULDN’T STAY AWAY FROM THE FIGHT MY BOY!” Jack smiled at his friend and in the background he saw the slightest glimmer of Ashi’s face, before she turned back to Flora.

“You are needed in quadrant 45 Scotsman, to inspire your daughters against….” She started that same cold tone as before.

“Ah know Ah know calm yer britches lassie, we’ll be on our way. Jack! You’d better be joining me for a few more scraps before the end of this war!” His laugh echoed through the white room, it looked familiar and different all at once. Soon only Jack, Ashi and silence remained.

He waited, unsure of what to say, she always made him flounder. She still refused to face him. It wasn’t helping matters. “I …..” He started softly before stepping forward and increasing his volume. “I have missed you, greatly.”

She almost turned, and then hesitated. “I might not appear as you remember.” She said turning her head enough to see her profile but not enough to see her face past her hair, it was longer than he remembered.

“I may not look as you remember either.” He confessed. Time had taken its tolls on him, and in the years of peace he’d allowed himself a more relaxed appearance. He kept his top knot loose so his hair fell to frame his face. He felt he had changed so often he must have lived more lives than most. His Gi hung loose on his body now it made him appear as though he did not belong even in his own time, tied now by a black belt. To show his mourning.

“I have changed over time as well.” She responded. Turning her body slightly towards him, before she stopped herself again. He could see now that what he thought was a cloak was in truth a broad shoulder jacket that came to tatters as it moved across the floor, open enough to see a black body suit underneath with high spiked heels.

Jack waited for her to move. Not wanting to push Ashi more than he had already. Silence hung in the room until her heels clicked along the floor. With each step Jacks heartbeat sped up until she stood before him.

Despite the lack of any definite aging, She somehow appeared older, wiser beyond her years. Her lips were stained a deep, dark red. In the right light, or lack thereof, they appeared almost black. Her eye shadow matched. As she opened her eyes, they shone a bright almost eerie green. The same green of Aku’s skin.

“The power I took from him,” She explained. “Did not leave me unchanged.” And she did not lie Jack now understood what Flora had meant when she said Ashi took Aku’s place. “I must fight it everyday. Part of him is still here. I had to seal him within me.” She brought her black covered hand up over her heart. “I constantly stave off the thoughts he torments me with, the unspeakable atrocities he…..” Ash breathed deep and clenched her chest tight. “There may come a day when I can’t-” She choked on her confession. As though she was telling him her deepest secret. Which it very much may have been.

“Ashi…” His hand rose to cover hers, part of him still thought this was all some cruel dream. But she was solid, real and warm. Their eyes met and her newly green ones were bright with tears, they made him think of the forests she so loved, not Aku.

“Jack…” She sighed, taking his hand in hers and for a brief moment simply enjoying the feeling of it there. “You must promise me something... if you are to stay in this time.” There was a seriousness to her words. Jack nodded, following her as she led him through the room.

They soon stood by the room’s grand doors and Jack was shocked to see his sword once more. Though perhaps in this scenario it was more her sword. “I keep it here, so it's easy to access. I also have several pure hearted warriors within this former castle of Aku.” That explained why it looked so familiar.

“But why?” He asked still wondering if he had the right to hold the sword once more.

“Should the day arrive where I am controlled by this power I possess...It will be easier to kill me.” She spoke as though it were nothing. A simple fact and nothing more. “I need you to promise me Jack, vow on your honor that should this happen you won’t impede what needs to be done.” Her eyes told him as she stared him down ‘You allowed that to happen once’. Her hands picked up the sword with care as though it were the most delicate object in the world. And to her it was. “If you can’t promise me that then I will send you back…..no matter how much I don’t want to.”

Slowly Jack got to his knees before her, before a woman he both did and did not know, and held out his hands to recieve the blade. “I vow on my honor and my family, that should you no longer find yourself in control, that you are no longer acting as yourself that I will strike you down swiftly, sure and true, so that you may never harm those you wish to protect.” Though Jack could not see it but Ashi’s eyes and heart swelled at his vow and carefully she placed the sword back into his hands.

“Then you may stay here,” She said, warmth flooding her voice as it did in his memories. “For as long as you wish.” Or as long as they had. Which was never enough. Never. Something Ashi was all too aware of as she flung her arms around his neck nearly forcing him to the ground as she embraced him tightly. Every instinct she’d been fighting from the moment he came through the portal, one she herself could not walk through, falling away. She felt as though she hadn’t enough hands but settled for the two that threaded threw his silky hair, the other pulling him as close to her as she could.

Although Jack wished he could respond to her passion, her embrace made such action difficult. Instead he simply allowed himself be lost in her touch, her smell, her warmth, Gods above he missed her so much. Soon her lips fell upon his gentle and harsh all once but sweet all the same. The pair thought they might die of happiness there and then. The lovers separated by time itself.

Reluctantly Ashi pulled back when she found Jack struggling for air, a light headedness she too shared. With a bashful smiled she pulled back and got to her feet. “I’ve missed you greatly as well.”

Slowly he rose up coming out of the daze she left him in, placing the sword back on his waist. Feeling whole for the first time in years. Like a piece of himself had been missing. “So what now?” It was almost funny their roles had reversed in this new yet old world he found himself back in.

“Oh well……I normally just monitor things from here.” She answered walking swiftly into the center of the room. Ashi made a few strange gestures as she sat almost childishly on the floor. The room filled with images of everywhere Jack could think of and some places he’d never seen before. “I send reinforcements where needed and command retreats when things look dire. But for the most part…..” She swiped her hand and they disappeared, patting her hand on the floor beside her to sit. “I just wait.”

“You wait?” He asked seating himself next to her. She smiled and nodded. “But would you not be more useful out there?”

“At first I was always on the front lines... or rather I was the front lines.” Her voice grew distant as hugged her knees to her chest, recalling a time so far and yet so close in her mind. “But over time I found it….taxing. Not only my body but my mind as well.” She flicked her hand back and forth. The limb changing from human to something monstrous. “I’d loose myself in the heat of battle, it frightened the people who followed me and I don’t want to do that. So I save myself for the fights that are too dangerous or difficult. A last resort sort of thing, I guess.”

Jack watched her carefully as she spoke. All this time she’d been fighting and struggling, while he’d been enjoying a time of peace for the first time in a long while. He wished he could have made it easier for her. Wished he could have helped take that pain away. All the while Ashi had wished for Jack to be exactly as he was, safe, content and at rest.

“Was I happy there?” She asked. It took Jack a moment to understand what she meant.

“Yes, you were.” He smiled recalling the short time they had together in his time.

“Did I fit in?”

“Oh yes very much so. Mother adored you.”

“She did?”

“Yes, she said you were like the daughter she never had.”

“And the mother I never had…”

“Father found you very favorable as well, you greatly impressed him.”

“It sounds like I enjoyed myself there.”

“Yes. We were nearly married…..”

Jack did not speak or move, losing himself in that day. He often wondered if it would have been better or worse had they been able to finish the ceremony. Suddenly he felt a weight on his shoulder and found Ashi’s head resting there. “You know we’re sort of married now.” He raised a brow to her statement and she smiled, warm and wonderful. It was almost as though nothing had changed. Almost. “You just vowed to stay with me until one of us dies, isn’t that what a marriage is?” Jack found himself smiling despite himself.

“In a manner of speaking, yes. I suppose it is.” He imagined a similar moment he’d shared in the past under a cherry blossom tree with her. The smell in the air was different, but it still felt the same. If this was a dream he silently prayed to never wake. “So just how do you pass the time while you wait?”

“Oh!” She sat up, thinking. “Well I play with some of my more benign abilities.” She outstretched her arm to retrieve Jack an apple from the other end of the room. “Like Shapeshifting, it can be fun.”

“Yes I can see.” He laughed, taking the fruit and placing it down.

“I’ll look over the monitors just to watch people. My favorite is an orphanage we all made. The children always look so happy.” She smiled softly recalling how they played the other day, how she pictured herself and her sisters in their shoes. Had they only the chance. “It’s night where they are now.” She explained as to why she could not show Jack now. The list went on and on each activity as simple but joyous as the last, and Jack listened to each with rampant attention wanting to soak in all she had become. “Oh! and I read a bit, mostly these old books the Scotsman daughter Freya finds.”

“Really what are they about?” Jack thought it a simple question, but Ashi’s face seemed to freeze at the question. “Ashi?” Nervously she laughed and shifted her arm once more to grab a book from under what used to be Aku’s throne.

“They’re- um... very silly things.” She blushed bringing the book up to cover her face. “Just something simple... to pass the time!” Jack inspected it, it seemed flimsy the cover cracked, edges tattered and yellowed but he could still see the image and writing on the front.

“The Pirate King’s Secret Cargo?” A strange title to say the least and the image as well. The Pirate in question looked nothing like those he’d encountered and he appear to be holding a woman who fainted from a far too tight corset.

“Yes um it's about a Pirate who mistakenly takes a banker’s daughter on his ship. He has to keep her there, but she eventually finds she likes being a pirate and hmmmm he takes her on his ship.” Ashi refused to meet Jack's eyes while she explained the book and her cheeks were flushed.

“But if she were already aboard, why would he take her on the boat a second time?” He asked trying to understand the odd book. Ashi’s mortification soon turned into unbridled laughter at what Jack had unknowingly said. “What? What did I say?” He did not understand but was glad to see her laugh.

“It was- um ahem a different manner in which he took her.” She explained unable to meet his eyes. Understanding dawned on Jack, his face turned a deep red. Once she gained control of herself Ashi decided she’d tease the samurai a bit more. “You know my favorite one of these books is called the Rurouni and his Runaway Bride.” His face was nearly as red as the apple beside him and Ashi could not find it more endearing. “I could let you borrow it while we wait for a fight for you. It's about this disgraced Samurai who’s hired by this woman to….”

“No please Ashi, I plead mercy. I don’t think I can take much more of this.” His face felt far too flushed. Far too aware, in his opinion, of any skin contact with her.

“But you look so cute when you blush.” She teased. “You know I never told you... I love you too. So very much.”

Jack embraced her as they sat and chatted all night and into the next day never wanting to part for even a moment. They knew at any moment they could be separated once again. Be it fate, circumstance or tragedy, they knew it was only a matter of time before they would be pulled apart once more. So they enjoyed what little they had. What little they could get and what little they could keep. These lost children haunted by time, would have to settle with what time allowed them.

#samurai jack #samurai jack season 5 #ashi #jashi #fanfic #AU #ish #my offering to the fandom #perhaps another way to look at the end #cause time travel is the worst #gotta thank lyricalvillian for editing she's the best

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laurlovescookies · 7 years

Text

Kadam Week Prompt 4: He Struck You (A Crescendo)

Prompt Four: Someone strains, sprains, breaks, or otherwise injures himself doing something really stupid. How does his partner react?

When a heckler starts harassing Kurt and Adam, Kurt’s sass flares up and Adam hopes his boyfriend will live to see fifty. Rated for brief violence.

-O-

“I still think we should take you to the hospital.”

Kurt looked up from where he lay on the sofa, accepting his boyfriend’s pro-offered ice pack with a soft “Thangs.” He softly pressed it against his still-swollen nose, hissing as it stung. Adam patted Kurt’s legs, and the latter drew them up so that Adam could sit beside him. He stared at his entwined hands.

“I—“ He let out an incredulous snort and looked over at Kurt, whom didn’t look the slightest bit contrite. “I don’t know whether to yell at you or call you a hero.” He shook his head. “I still think we ought to ought to get you to a doctor. Your nose could be broken.”

Kurt wearily shook his head. His voice was so nasal compared to his usual trill; it sounded as if he had a bad cold. “I dun thing suh. Ospital visits ah expensive ‘ere, even wif ‘ealth insdurance.”

“If you’d been stabbed, that’d be a good reason to go.”

“But I waddint. And om nod bleedig now.” Kurt pointed helpfully towards the wastebasket in front of him, which had been steadily filling with bloodstained tissues for the past half hour. “And my node idint crookud, and dere aren’t ony bruises…”

“Yes, but we don’t know for certain, dahling,” said Adam nervously, squeezing Kurt’s knee. “He…hit you quite hard.”

“I know. I wad dere.”

Adam briefly smiled, but it was just as quickly washed away.

“Are you sure you won’t go? I’m…my heart is still going a mile a minute. He hit you in the bloody face and you’re being awfully cavalier.”

“Nuh. Ninedeen years and ma node idint broken yet. Nod for people haven’t trying.”

Adam said nothing for a moment, drawing up his knees to hug them. For a moment he’s just so appallingly sad he can’t speak. This was Kurt’s normal; that was self-evident by the fact he managed some garbled speech about the new Project Runway series as Adam rushed them into a taxi, hand shaking so hard as he tried to dial the police Kurt finally had to do it for him. And one of his hands still had a fistful of napkins pinched around his nose.

He sagged back against the couch, still looking at Kurt, whom was now gazing at the ceiling.

Adam certainly had been mocked at school for being gay, but to have been assaulted to the extent that Kurt was, to fear for his life and have to switch schools (with the fantastically-abysmal result that he’d wound up seeking solace with some tool?)

It was vicious. Not for the first time he wondered if Kurt might’ve found a safer home in England, possibly in Wessex, quite-possibly at Adam’s own school, where people could be little berks but not violent little berks.

Brow creasing, suddenly feeling incredibly tired, Adam reached for Kurt’s hand, grateful when the latter squeezed his.

He’d been struck and knocked to the floor, and when Adam scrambled down beside him there was already so much blood streaming across the tile it ran blackish. He’d slid in it as they hurried out, Kurt pausing to seize some tissues at an empty booth on the way. “Kurt,” Adam had panted as they hurried to the curb, heart hammering in his throat. “Kurt, sweetheart—“ Aghast, he stared at Kurt, whom gazed back, looking nonplussed.

“Are you alright? Do you need ice? Do you want me to call for—“

“I ope dere won be blooddains on ma shirt. Are you oday, ‘oney?”

He’d only stared. Kurt hadn’t even cried, didn’t seem the slightest bit unnerved.

“I’m just surprised you had the nerve to lay down the law as well as you did. I think my new nickname for you is Judge Judy.”

Adam had dragged Kurt out to a sport bar earlier tonight so that they could watch the summer Olympics. Adam was interested in swimming events being that he swam competitively in high school, and while Michael Phelps was as much of a beast in the water as ever, he hoped England might at least find a place on the podium.

Kurt had humored him, albeit with a martyred expression, especially as he tentatively poked at the salad he ordered. “The healthiest thing on the menu is stuffed with bacon bits. Reminds me of all the old dives my dad used to take me to after work.”

Still, Kurt had spotted a television featuring women’s gymnastics and was very happy to watch the musical floor routines.

“The coordination is incredible,” he marveled, putting a hand on Adam’s arm as a young Russian dance rushed across the floor, ribbon swirling in her wake. “I wish we’d had her coach back in high school.”

Suddenly they both became aware of a series of tootles and jeers across the room; a crowd of beefy-looking men in jerseys were grinning at them. One of them even stood up, ugly eyes feverish. “Hey girlies! Why don’t you stop feelin’ up each others pussies and get the fuck out of here? This ain’t no place for faggots!”

Kurt’s expression hardened. Adam sighed and looked up at Kurt. “Perhaps we should move to the bar. I don’t particularly like the ambiance here.”

The same man started mimicking Adam’s accent—very poorly so—and as his friends laughed Kurt leaned back in his seat, the picture of cool composure.

“You seem inordinately interested in our sex lives.” He stirred his drink and raised an eyebrow. “Have you tried getting one of your own?”

The man’s friends collectively froze, and started hooting with fiendish glee. The rascal glowered at Kurt.

“You better not be propositioning me, faggot.”

Kurt’s eyes narrowed into slivers and Adam’s breath caught. “Don’t flatter yourself. First of all, you’re a singularly unpleasant person. Your face looks like someone tried to put out a fire with a fork. And judging by those thunder thighs, you stuff cake in your socks. Good luck finding a girl to be with you whom you don’t have to pay by the hour.”

As his friends hooted and howled, pounding the table with their fists, the man’s teeth clenched, face reddening. To Adam’s great alarm he got up, strode over to their table where he stopped, breathing deeply.

“Take it back. All of it.”

Kurt frowned up at the man.

“Apologize to him.”

“Kurt—“

“No. No one has the right to treat you like that.”

“No one has the right to treat you like that—“ The man simpered mockingly. Eyes flashing, Kurt abruptly stood up—he was taller than the stranger.

“You know, I think I might apologize to you,” he said sweetly. “Considering I know you just broke up with your girlfriend.” Surprise momentarily flitted across the man’s face. “I’m thinking it’s because you have more dick in your personality then you ever did in your pants.”

The entire bar exploded at that, and a second later the man’s fist flew towards Kurt’s face in a sharp uppercut.

-O-

“How in the world did you know that he’d broken up with his girlfriend?”

“Just a guess. I figured he couldn’t keep one for very long.”

Adam chuckled and Kurt smiled softly, sitting up and resting his cheek on Adam’s shoulder. The latter wrapped an arm around him.

“Well,” Adam sighed. “I suppose I should tell you to never do such a thing again. But just this once, I’d like to call you my hero.”

“I like it.”

“You’re sounding better now.”

“I feel better.” Kurt touched his nose cautiously. “Sore, but not terrible.”

“Still, I feel awful that you were hurt on my behalf. How about I be your slave for the evening?”

“That sounds like something like you’d have to pay someone for to say.”

“Kurt.”

“Right.” Kurt raised his hands up. “Turning off the snark.” Going to a sport bar aside, there was no great indicator that Kurt Hummel loved Adam. “But I do still feel kind of gross. I think a shower’s called for.” He quipped a brow, eyes still playfully sassy as ever.

“Any chance you could help me with that?”

Adam grinned, reached for Kurt and tossed the squawking boy over his shoulder before hurrying out of the room.

u�!;��

#kadam fanfic #kadam week 2017 #kadam week #kurt hummel #adam crawford #glee fanfiction

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army-author · 7 years

Text

BTS reaction to you knowing Dutch:

A/N: I don’t know Dutch, so please forgive any mistakes I might make. I hope you enjoy it. Have a lovely day/ night!

Jin: Finally. You could slip into your pyjamas, pick up a book, and flop into the warm embrace of your bed. This was what had kept you going all day, stuck in front of a glaring screen: the thought of some time to relax, just you, yourself and – the doorbell rings. At this time of night? With a huff, you heave yourself up from your duvet nest, and shuffle down the stairs. The ringing gets more frantic.

“Coming! Hang on!” You pick up the pace, flustered as you fumble with keys, and finally – ring, ring – throw open the door. To be greeted by… a text book being thrust in your face. Your eyes take a moment to focus on the title: ‘Learn Basic Dutch’. Your gaze slides up the arms holding out the offering, following up to recognisably broad shoulders and a smiling face that fixes all.

“Jin!” You gasp, “What are you doing here. It’s late.”

“I know,” Jin shuffles awkwardly on the step, “But I just…. I suddenly decided that I want to learn Dutch.” The book is waved in your face.

“Right now?”

“Do you want me to go away?” Jin pouts.

“No, no. It’s just… an odd time to be learning a new language, isn’t it?”

Jin grins sheepishly. “Okay, okay… maybe I just wanted an excuse to see you.”

“That’s all?” You chuckle, “Honey, you could have just said.”

“True,” Jin grins back, “But I do also want to learn Dutch. You speak Korean so well, it’s only fair if I return the favour.”

“Alright,” you open the door wider for him to step inside, “I’ll teach you some Dutch, and then... maybe we could find some time for French as well.”

“French?” Jin looks confused.

“Kissing.”

“Oh… I’d like that.”

Yoongi: Love is a complicated concoction, made of butterfly-filled insides, glowing red cheeks, and that feeling you just can’t explain. Confusing enough as it is, mix in the barrier of a foreign language, and it becomes more intense than doing a master’s degree in rocket engineering. But difficulty never stops the genius of Min Yoongi. He’ll rise to the challenge, embrace it and give it kisses, as long as it makes you happy. All he needs to do is learn how to say ‘I love you’ in your native language – Dutch. That’s all. So why is it proving so hard?

“How can a language have so many different ways of saying ‘I love you’?” Yoongi cries, crashing his head onto his laptop keyboard.

Jimin peeks over his shoulder to look at the list of romantic Dutch phrases. “Hyung, just pick one,” he says.

“But what if I pick the wrong one,” Yoongi grumbles, “Look!” He points at the screen, leaving a finger print where he collides with the pixels of text. “All of these phrases have different levels of intensity. What if I pick one that’s overly romantic and freak Y/N out? Or what if I choose one that isn’t strong enough, and end up ruining our relationship?”

It’s then that you appear at the door, right on cue (or maybe not), a smile on your face. “Hello, zoeteke,” you sing-song, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi snaps his laptop shut, cheeks ablaze.

“Actually,” a devilish grin springs to Jimin’s lips, while your boyfriend shoots him warning looks, “Yoongi has something important he wants to say.” Ignoring Yoongi’s protests, he slips past you, with one last call of “Just go for it, hyung,” before he disappears.

“So,” you close the door behind you, “What was it you wanted to say?”

Yoongi’s mouth opens and closes a few times, before he manages to tumble out the words, “Ik ben verliefd op jou.”

There’s a pause, then, before you can respond he doubles back, “Oh no, wait, I got that wrong, it should have been, ‘Ik heb je lief’. Or, no, maybe I should have said, ‘ik bemin je’?” His head falls into his hands. “Dutch is confusing.”

You can’t help but laugh. “It’s okay, Yoongi. All of those phrases were fine. I understood what you meant… And I love you too. So much.”

Hoseok: Hoseok was jittery. He couldn’t keep still, reduced to pacing in the confined corridors backstage, fiddling with his cufflinks and running anxious fingers through his hair. Behind him, his stylist made a pained expression every time he touched the curls that had taken ages to sit… just right. You didn’t mind though. In your eyes, Hoseok’s hair looked perfect lying any which way. Messy was him. Messy worked.

You caught his hand as it flew up to his hair again, and gave it a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I know,” he sighed, leaning towards you, palm pressing against yours as he drew on your warmth, your familiarity, “I’m just not used to doing this without the others.”

You nodded sympathetically. Of course, it was a great honour that your fiancé had been invited to attend the awards ceremony in the Netherlands with you. Everybody wanted to see the Korean idol that was engaged to their national treasure - you. It was less great that he was invited… alone. Minus six members. Here he was, going on stage, on TV, without his group backing him up, and without a solid knowledge of the language. A daunting thought.

“Just remember,” you whispered, “hartelijk dank.”

He repeated it one last time. Not so bad.

Then your names were being called. Your lips brushed Hoseok’s cheek one last time for luck, and with a final squeeze of his hand, you walked towards the stage together.

Namjoon: “Alright, quiet please,” Namjoon claps his hands, and his class falls silent (well, as silent as a group of eight-year-olds can be), “Today, we have a special guest.”

From your position, just outside the classroom door, you see a few of the children crane their necks to try and sneak a glimpse through the small slip of glass that serves as a window/ peephole.

“Is it Y/N?” one of the boys pipes up, and the room explodes with commotion. “I love Y/N!” “Not as much as Mr. Kim loves Y/N. You love Y/N, don’t you Mr. Kim?”

“Shh,” Namjoon’s pleas for silence fall on deaf ears, and not wanting to keep the children waiting any longer, or to leave your boyfriend floundering in a flood of excited questions, you open the door, and there is a squeal of excitement.

A few of the bolder children run over to tug at your hands, and lead you to the centre of the room. “Are you gonna teach us more Dutch?” a girl with unruly curls asks.

“Of course,” you smile, “That’s my job. Today I’ll be reading to you.” You bring out one of your favourite children’s books, written in Dutch of course, but you’ll be willing to translate where needed. There is another cheer. Anything that isn’t spelling or times-tables is incredibly exciting. “But,” you raise an eyebrow, “I’ll only read if you’re quiet.”

There is a scrambling, as children return to their desks, and twenty pairs of eyes fix on you. No. Twenty-one. You glance across at Namjoon, who’s watching you with a smile twitching his dimples.

“I’ll have to get Y/N to come here more often,” he says, his eyes dancing jokingly, “They’re never this quiet with me.”

“Y/N should come in every day,” one of the girls calls out, “After all, married couples should spend as much time together as possible. My mum said so, so it must be true.”

You steal another look at Namjoon to see a blush creep across his cheeks. “Well, I don’t know about... that…. yet.”

“You’re are going to marry Y/N, aren’t you?”

The rest of the class falls out of silence, with whoops and shrieks. That Dutch book isn’t getting read anytime soon.

Jimin: It was time to give up. Jimin didn’t want to admit it, but he was truly and utterly lost. In Amsterdam. With no knowledge of the language, no map, and no phone signal. What to do? He glances up and down the street, eyes searching until he finds what he wants. A tourist information centre. Perfect.

And that’s when you burst into his life, flower in full bloom, unfurling, opening with a cheery call of “Welkom,” when he steps inside the door.

But he knows that when you look up – when you see him – your smile will seize up. It always happens this way. People just stop. Functioning. Properly. When they realise they’re in the presence of an idol. His clothes, his hair, his way of holding himself all gives it away. It’s not something he can switch off.

But you prove to be the exception. Your eyes lock on his, and your smile beams wider. “Hello,” you switch to English, with a slight accent, “Can I help you?”

And that’s when Jimin realises. You have no idea who he is. You haven’t marked him out as different. But you have marked him out as special. Your kind of special. Just-your-type special.

You would later tell him that the moment you saw him was the moment you fell into love, or at least fell into curiosity, wanting to know more about the mysterious man who waltzed into the tourist office and stole your heart. And he would be holding your hand, laughing at the way you retell the story, and whispering in your ear “Ik heb je lief.”

Taehyung: It wasn’t an ideal first meeting. There were no sparkles, no pastel petal-showers, no fanfare to announce: this is the one you’ve been waiting for. There was just a curb that got in your way, and the pavement falling towards you, and then a hand that caught you. That was how you stumbled – quite literally – into Taehyung’s life.

He said some words, in… what language you weren’t sure. It sounded like Korean. But maybe it wasn’t.

“Dank u,” you mumbled, finding your footing on the greyed tarmac, “Ehm, sorry.”

He looked at you blankly for a few seconds. Dutch wasn’t working. Perhaps English would.

“Uh – thank-you-for-what-you-did-just-there,” you tried, speaking quickly in your embarrassment.

“I – sorry, English is difficult.” At least he wasn’t giving you that empty expression anymore. Now he just looked confused, with chocolate-fudge eyes boring into you. He didn’t understand. You should just give up, but something made you want to keep trying. Without him, you would be a bruised mess on the pavement. You had to show him how thankful you were.

“Thank you,” you tried again, slower this time.

His troubled eyes cleared. “Ah, okay. No problem.” Then he frowned again, lines of his mouth creasing down. Was something wrong. After a few moments, he suddenly spoke up again: “Koffie!”

“Huh?”

“Erm…” he stumbles over his words, “Sorry… Dutch – I don’t know it. But I want… koffie? With you.”

It was your turn to falter. Was this guy asking you out? On a date? For coffee? You didn’t know a thing about him, you didn’t even speak the same language. It was completely crazy.

You nodded your head. “Okay.”

Jungkook: “Jungkook? You’ve got a lot of explaining to do!” You burst into the games room, only to find your boyfriend glued to the TV screen, in the middle of an intense Mario Kart race. “You listening?” Strolling over to the sofa, you give his cheek a poke. “Earth to Jungkook?”

His eyes flicker up to yours, where they falter, and stay staring. On screen his kart crashes into a green shell. “What is it?” He sets his controller down, sensing that this an extremely important matter.

“Did you eat the last slice of cake in the fridge?” you ask, pouting slightly.

Jungkook’s lips wobble in and out of smile, unsure whether or not he should be laughing. “Was that meant for you?”

“Yes!” You pick up a cushion and fling it at him.

“Okay, listen,” he tries to plead his case, while you attack him with your ultimate weapon: tickles. On his neck, right where he hates it.

“I didn’t know it was yours,” he says, catching your hands, then taking a deep breath: “Neem me niet kwalijk.”

Hearing your native language stops you in your tracks, and you turn soft as marshmallow fluff under his touch. “When did you learn to say that?”

“I’ve been studying Dutch in my free time,” he shrugs, like it’s no big deal, although the traces of a faint blush betray otherwise.

“Well… since you’re such a dedicated and considerate boyfriend, I guess I’ll forgive you,” you return his shrug, then plunge in for kisses. Maybe there’s still a trace of stolen cake on his lips?

(I did not make any of these lovely gifs)

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #armiesnet #ot7network #jin #namjoon #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts #bangtan #requested

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emma-trevelyan · 7 years

Text

Daichi Rare Pair Week Day 3: Video Games

Pairing: Sawamura Daichi/Azumane Asahi Prompt: Colors / Video games / Sport swap AU Rating: G Ao3

Space was cold, vast, and lonely. His ship drifted above Earth as he fought the urge to check his phone. Again. He said he’d play tonight, but maybe something came up. Maybe Daichi suddenly remembered he had a test tomorrow and forgot to tell him he’s be cramming all night. Maybe something happened!

But when the familiar T-shaped cruiser glided into orbit behind his own, Asahi’s heart beat a little easier.

~~~

“Fuck!” Daichi grumbled, tossing his backpack haphazardly across the room. “I’m fucking late. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

“I’m pretty sure Azumane would object to that if I did, as appealing as you are,” Kuroo chuckled from his spot on the couch. His laptop was perched open on his crossed legs, but there was a distinct lack of thick textbooks or complex tables and charts that Daichi can never follow (no matter what Kuroo tries), so it was obvious he wasn’t studying. Therefore, Daichi had no qualms about throwing him out of the living room. Kuroo gave Daichi a judgemental once-over. “Please tell me you didn’t leave the house looking like that today. Please tell me you’re changing before you do a video call with Azumane!”

Daichi stared at his clothing choices for the day--black joggers, a ratty hoodie, and his athletic socks. He hadn’t been able to find his contact case, so he’d been stuck with his glasses; “What’s wrong with the way I look?”

“Daichi, I swear to Christ if you left the house in socks with your Adidas fucking slides, I will disown you,” Kuroo deadpanned. Daichi was ready to bodily throw him out of the living room--just to spite him--but he was already packing up his laptop. “I don’t know what Azumane sees in you. What’s on the agenda for tonight?”

“Destiny,” Daichi replied. “We tried Overwatch last week, but you can’t really carry a conversation in that setting.”

“Fair,” Kuroo replied with a shrug. “Don’t tell me, Asahi is McCree trash.”

“He mains Mercy, actually,” Daichi shot back, setting up the Playstation. He growled at the time--he was really late.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Kuroo said. “Well, have fun. Don’t stay up too late, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That doesn’t leave me a lot of options, Kuroo,” Daichi retorted, tapping his fingers impatiently while he waited for Skype to load. “But thanks.”

As soon as Daichi was in the game, he hit the video call button for Asahi. It took approximately ten seconds for that gorgeous face to fill his screen, and Daichi suddenly felt a bit self-conscious about his clothes. Asahi was wearing artfully distressed jeans and a dark flannel layered over a band tee. He looked fucking great--put together, a bit edgy maybe--and Daichi looked like a hot fucking mess. Hell, even the oil paints that seemed permanently embedded into Asahi’s hands looked deliberate, like he had just completely immersed himself in this artistic persona of his.

“Hey gorgeous,” Daichi sighed softly, grinning with triumph when Asahi flushed a brilliant red. “Wow, look at you. It’s been too long.”

“It’s been a week,” Asahi protested weakly.

“Still too long,” Daichi replied. “Why don’t we do this more often?”

“School, work, life,” Asahi answered. His normal answer… the same thing he said every time. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Daichi answered, trying to ignore the pang in his gut as the rift that seemed to be growing between them widened. It was small--a few centimeters tops--but it seemed to grow wider every time Daichi realized the distance between them. “Strike mode?”

“Sure,” Asahi said with a shrug. “I’m ready.”

They fell into a comfortable routine, catching up with each other’s lives between coordinating in the game. Thankfully, outside of a few boss fights, it was pretty mindless. They always used to do this with Suga back home in Miyagi--the three of them would play games together, sometimes co-op, sometimes against one another, sometimes taking turns on a single player game while the other two watched and absorbed. Between volleyball and homework, neither of them had much free time, so Daichi always treasured those moments. He’d fallen in love with Asahi in those moments, slowly but surely, and he wouldn’t ever regret it.

“How’re your classes?” Daichi asked, selecting his loadout for the mission.

“Hard,” Asahi replied. “I have this installation piece I’m working on that’s just not coming together how I want, and I have this essay on Georgia O’Keeffe due and man, research for that is awkward.”

“How come? Snipers on your left.”

“Thanks,” Asahi murmured. “Because she was… really preoccupied with vaginas, Daichi.”

“Excuse me?”

Like, all of her paintings. Vaginas. I know it says flowers in my textbook, but they were fucking vaginas and I’ll fight you.”

“I’ve never heard you say vagina this much ever,” Daichi chuckled, narrowly dodging enemy fire.

“Hang out with a bunch of gay ladies for long enough, you’ll hear about vaginas until you’re so numb to it, it’s barely a word,” Asahi said. “Hang on, I’m pinned.”

“On it,” Daichi replied. “So you have a harem of gay ladies, then?”

“I’ve been adopted by a harem of gay ladies,” Asahi corrected. “But enough about the four women who insist on calling themselves my moms, what about you? How’s Tokyo?”

“Did you know that studying corporate law is a fucking nightmare?” Because it is,” Daichi snarled, thinking back to his hellish business law class. He would beat his professor to death with his 40,000 yen text book if he had to sit through one more three-hour lecture given to the fucking white board.

“I thought you were studying criminal law,” Asahi said.

“I am,” Daichi grumbled bitterly. “But corporate law is on the exams to get into grad school and it’s on the Bar, so sadly I can’t just tune it out. If I have to read one more boring case study about Corporation A using Tax Loophole B to make C amounts of millions, I am going to throttle someone.”

“You are not,” Asahi laughed. “Is it really that bad?”

“No,” Daichi sighed. “I guess not. It’s just irritating. I wanted to become a lawyer to help people, and this is just making me want to live in a refrigerator box in the mountains somewhere. Only wear underwear, grow out my beard, scare tourists… all that fun jazz.”

“Hey, I’m going to be an artist,” Asahi laughed. “We can afford a premium refrigerator box in the city. So long as you’re ok with cuddling; I hear Tokyo streets get cold at night.”

“I’m great with cuddling, so long as it’s with you,” Daichi teased, shooting a wink out of the corner of his eye and sticking his tongue out in concentration. “What about you? Thought about replacing me, yet?”

Asahi was silent… so silent, Daichi was afraid he’d disconnected for a second before he cursed loudly; “Oh, fuck me! I died.”

“Need a res?”

“I can just wait,” Asahi grumbled. Out of his periphery, Daichi caught the sight of him shifting. He was likely pouting.

“Nah, I’ll come to you, give me a second,” Daichi said. It was weird--Asahi was good enough, he rarely died in games, but especially PVE on Destiny. Something was up… it was basically confirmed when Daichi revived him and he didn’t move at all. “Hey, you good? You haven’t moved?”

Daichi turned to the camera and it was pretty obvious that Asahi wasn’t paying attention to the goings on in the game anymore, because he was staring at him. His eyes were wide, but soft and warm, and it made a pleasant tingle work it’s way down to Daichi’s toes. He hadn’t seen Asahi in so long, and even longer since he’d seen that specific expression. It nearly knocked the wind out of him.

“Do you, um… want to keep playing?” Daichi asked.

“Not really,” Asahi answered.

“Want to hang up, then? Get some work done?”

“Not a chance.”

They finished their mission, switched off their Playstations, and settled into the silence. It had gotten dark in Daichi’s living room, and his face was only illuminated by his laptop. Asahi had switched on the lamp on his bedside table, bathing him in a golden glow. He looked so gorgeous… Daichi would never be over it. College had changed him so much… fuck, had it really only been two months since they’d last visited each other?

(Only two months, as if every day didn’t hurt like a bitch)

“I never want to replace you.”

Daichi snapped out of his train of thought like a mousetrap; “What?”

Asahi was staring at him with those wide, calf-brown eyes again. He’d always loved Asahi’s eyes, with their warm, golden-brown tone and dark lashes. It was always what drew him to Asahi in the beginning. He loved how open they were.

“I don’t ever want to replace you, Daichi,” he repeated. “You’re… you’re it for me. I love you so much, and you’re just… you’re forever. You’re endgame, ok?”

This wasn’t the first time Asahi had proclaimed endless love to Daichi. It wasn’t the first time he’d looked Daichi right in the eye and told him that he was in it for the long haul. And yet, as much as Daichi wanted to tease him for it, that gloomy Friday night, it knocked Daichi clear on his ass. He cursed the quavering in his voice as he tried to respond.

“I love you too, you big goof,” Daichi said, swiping his thumbs under his eyes. “Why do you have to go and say things like that?”

“Because it’s true,” Asahi replied with a smile. Daichi wanted to swear at him--where did all this confidence come from? And for that matter, why could he only have it when there were computer screens between them?

Daichi did the last thing he wanted to do ever, let alone in front of Asahi. He always felt bad, because Asahi felt bad, and there wasn’t anything either of them could do. And yet, he couldn’t help it.

He cried.

“God, I hate this,” Daichi whimpered, trying to rub his tears off his face. It didn’t work. “I hate that I can’t see you. I hate that you’re not here with me.”

Asahi sighed, rubbing discreetly at the corners of his eyes with his knuckles, but the catch in his voice gave him away; “We knew it would be like this, Daichi. We were prepared.”

“But I wasn’t,” Daichi countered. He only let himself be like this in front of Asahi. He hated it about himself--he hated the selfish part of him that wanted Asahi to drop everything--his bid for grad school, his art, his current degree, and just come out to Tokyo to be with him. He wanted to hold his boyfriend every night. He wanted to kiss him every morning. “I didn’t realize how much I would fucking miss you, you perfect asshole. Fuck, why is this so hard?”

“I miss you too,” Asahi said softly. He was fidgeting with his hands, which meant he was shaking. “All the time. I wish you were here, or I was there, and… I wish I’d had the courage to just send my portfolio to Tokyo, like you’d told me to. But there’s nothing we can do now. This has to be enough.”

“Playing video games over Skype isn’t enough, Asahi!” Daichi yelled, probably too loudly. Daichi tried to calm down, because he wasn’t mad at Asahi. He could never be mad at Asahi, especially when he made those perfect puppy eyes at him. “I just… want to do that gross couple stuff that makes it all worthwhile, like cooking together and going on dates and just occupying the same space without pressure to carry a conversation. I just want to be next to you. And I can’t… and it sucks.”

“Just two weeks, Daichi,” Asahi assured, and since when did their relationship take that fucking turn, where Asahi was reassuring him? “Just two more weeks, and we’ll be on break. And then it’s a whole month of just you and me. I’m going to come out there and it will just be the two of us. Just two more weeks.”

“Well, the two of us and Kuroo,” Daichi laughed. “And his cat. They live here, too.”

“Gumball is a treasure and I don’t mind her presence,” Asahi replied with a weak chuckle. At least he was smiling. That made Daichi feel better. “And I suppose I can deal with Kuroo picking on us for being gross and coupley. So long as I get to hold you.”

Daichi flushed; “Asahi, stop. You’re being cute again.”

“I wouldn’t have to be, if you weren’t adorable,” Asahi teased.

Daichi hid his face in his hands; “You’re adorable.”

There was a brief pause before Daichi could peek between his fingers. Asahi was burrowed into his pillows, smiling softly at the screen. Two weeks was too long, in Daichi’s opinion. But even if he wasn’t there with him, he had Asahi. And he was there for him, and he could survive two more weeks.

They should have hung up. Maybe did some homework while texting each other. But they couldn’t. They stayed on the chat, watching each other and talking about nothing until one of them fell asleep.

Just like a normal couple.

#daichirarepairweek #asadai #sawamura daichi #azumane asahi #video games #destiny #thanks elaine for helping me out on this one #i gave myself feels #emma writes

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