i am so sorry about this coloring this scene was so impossible to color

Humanity

Harry (Earth-2 Harrison Wells) x Reader

A/N: This is the first part of the mini-series for Harrison Wells. It’s going to be about 6 parts, so stay tuned for the rest.

Originally posted by marcegarcia89


The saddest moment in any one life is not determined by love or loss, it’s determined when you finally realize your potential after a lifetime of pursuing the wrong destiny.

This is, for all intents and purposes, enough to discredit your entire existence. You, however, refused to let your past mistakes define your future. You weren’t a weapon, despite what everyone believed. You were a person, and therefore, you had the right to live just as everyone else did. Oh, how badly you wanted to just live.

So, you didn’t regret looking directly into the impossibly dark eyes of your father and telling him that you refused to fight his battles. You didn’t feel the smallest twinge of regret when you formally denounced your position as the last of the Al’ Berul bloodline and heir to all of Vincere. Most importantly, you didn’t look back when you finally left the cruel constraints of your home.

Keep reading

Title: Favorite Wine (Wesley x Reader)
Summary: Wesley spends a little too much time with Vanessa for your taste.
Warnings: Swearing


Vanessa was your best friend. She was the one who introduced you to Wesley in the first place, why were you mad at her?

Oh yeah, that’s right, because your boyfriend spent every waking minute doting on her, granting her every wish and need like it was his job. Well, okay, so maybe it was his job. But he paid more attention to her than you which got on your nerves time and time again.

There was a thousand circumstances that you could think of- your personal favorite was when he bought a couple of dresses home wrapped in beautiful boxes and you thought they were for you, and then James got pissed off you’d opened them. They had been for Vanessa.

You were starting to wonder if it wasn’t Vanessa you were mad at, but Wesley.

Tonight, you decided, was the last straw. James was sort of aware of your feelings but it was obvious he had no idea of the extent of it, or maybe he just didn’t care. Maybe he was just dating you to please Vanessa.

You were sitting at a table in one of the fanciest restaurant in New York City,  alone. You could see the waiters speaking in hushed voices about you from the corner of your eye and you could easily imagine what they were saying. “Do you see that girl? How the hell do we tell her to leave?”

And then, it happened. James strolled in, taking all the time in the world to talk to the greeter and then to walk over to your table.

“You’re late,” You said sharply.
James pulled the chair opposite you out and sat down. “Oh, yes
I’m sorry about that, work, you know.” He had the audacity to flash a smile at you. That bastard!

“Mm.” You said simply, hoping he’d get the impression you were annoyed by him.

James called the waiter over and somehow, even though it seemed absolutely impossible, your night managed to get even worse.

“I’ll have this,” James pointed to something on the menu and looked up at you and uttered the worst combination of words he could have possibly said to you in that moment. “It’s Vanessa’s favorite.”

There were a lot of responses that flashed through your mind- flipping the table, just walking out, or even just start to scream and scream and never stop screaming.

You stood up. “You know, James, I’m really fucking tired of hearing about Vanessa. ‘This is Vanessa’s favorite!’” You mimicked his voice and felt bad for the waiter who standing in the middle of this. James’ face had completely dropped. “Maybe, just maybe, I would like my own god damn favorite wine!” You shouted, and you felt like maybe you should throw something or knock something over, but you already felt bad enough for the waiter who was watching the scene and didn’t want him to clean up your mess. You settled for throwing your purse over your shoulder angrily.

“(y/n), don’t be like this- let’s not have this conversation here, please,” James said, reaching over the table to take your hand.

You yanked your hand away and walked out of the restaurant, overly aware of everyone’s eyes on you. You could have dragged him in front of everybody, but that would be too mean. You might’ve been mad at him, but that didn’t mean you didn’t still care about him.

You stomped outside and onto the streets- you’d taken a taxi here(no one drives their own cars in the city, unless they were rich, and though you weren’t lacking you certainly didn’t have extra money to spare), and it would be awhile until another one could get here. You decided to walk for a bit to cool off before calling one- your make up was an absolute mess and you were sniffling.

Why was Wesley like this? Did he just not genuinely understand that you have to pay attention in a relationship? You were still stuck on the idea that he was only dating you to make Vanessa happy. But did that mean all the good times you had were fake?

Like that one time when he brought you those flowers and candy when you were sick. Or when you two set up a projecter in your room and watched both of your favorite movies until the sun came up. He was always so happy when he was with you, and not even in the way he was when he was trying to persuade a client, which you thought really meant something.

You were about two blocks away from the restaurant when a big, ostentatius black van slowed down next to you at the curb. “(Y/n),” James called as he rolled the tinted windows down.

“Fuck off,” You said halfheartedly.

He pushed his glasses up his nose and sighed. “Please get in the car, darling.” You glanced at him, he looked concerned. “I want to talk. Please. I’ll even-” He swallowed, “I’ll even let you hit me if you want.”

There he was, there was the James you loved-he may have looked suave but he was secretly a huge awkward dork. You almost-almost cracked a smile.

“Just..let me apologize?” James asked you.

Don'tcrackdon'tcrackdon'tcrack “What, so you can stay on good terms with Vanessa?” You wiped away a tear before it could slide down your cheek.

James sighed, exasperated, and a couple walking down the street next to you snickered at the situation he was in.

“God damn it. If I didn’t want to date you, I wouldn’t have dated you!” He hopped out of the van and slammed the door shut behind him. For once, his suit looked disheveled. It was a good look for him.

You threw your hands up in the air. “How the hell am I supposed to know that?! Everything you do is for Vanessa, and not just the wine or even those damn dresses. You spend all your time with either Fisk or her! What about me? Do you even know my favorite color?? Like, I get it’s your job, but it’s like you don’t even try.” Your voice cracked on the last word and James walked over to you and put his hands on your shoulders, looking you directly in the eye.

“Of course I know your favorite color. You’re wearing it right now. I know I haven’t..exactly..been the best company as of late, and I definitely haven’t been giving you the attention you deserve. But that is because, ” He got down on one knee, and you didn’t have time to really process what was going on before he continued.

“Vanessa was helping me pick out this.” He pulled out a velvet box from his pocket and popped it open to show you one HUGE ASS ring sitting inside of it. A soft smile spread over his face and even in the harsh glow of the streetlight he looked like an angel, kneeling down before you.

James took a deep breath in. “Will you marry me?”

You stared at him for a minute, considering it; did he really deserve to be forgiven?

“Umm. No.”

“Err…no?” Wesley looked up at you, confusion written all over his face.

You couldn’t help but smile, your tears subsiding  as you bent over and cupped his face with your hands. “James, I love you, but you barely know me! I want to spend more time with you before you do something crazy like propose to me.”

James looked up at you, raising an eyebrow. “You’re turning me down?”

You stood up straight and put your hands on your hips.“For now. Until you learn to appreciate me more.”

James narrowed his eyes and you were expecting him to be angry, until he stood up and he smiled down at you.

“You are so.. incredible.” He took your hand in his and unlike earlier you didn’t jerk away.

“So I’ve been told,” You shrugged and looked up at him innocently.

James chuckled and looked down. “You know, I do really love you.” You felt like he was going to say something else, but you didn’t push him.

“I love you too. ” You kissed him on the cheek and added, “Or at least I think so.”

James tilted his head at you. “You think?”

You opened the door to the van and winked at him before you slipped in. “Depends on how you make tonight up to me.”

“I’ll sit next to (Y/N),” Yoongi shoved Hoseok out of the way to sit next to you.

“Yah!” Hoseok hit him upside the head, “What’s your problem?”

“I had fun with her yesterday,” He smiled happily, “I like her.”

“Hm?” Jin eyed you two sitting at the end of the table, practically next to you.

“I wanna sit by (Y/N)!” Jimin ran to the seat across from you.

“I wanted to sit there!” Tae whined loudly, causing people to stare.

“Too bad,” Jimin stuck his tongue out, “So (Y/N), are you single?” He cutely held his head up with his hands, leaning into you.

“I am.” You nodded.

“Don’t tell him that!” Hoseok waved his hand in front of your face, “That’ll just motivate him.”

“Hyung!” He rolled his eyes, turning to face him to begin an argument.

“What about me?” Yoongi whispered through your hair by your ear.

“I don’t think making out, and feeling me up last night meant you’re my boyfriend.” You whispered back, placing your hand on his knee lightly.

“Do you want it to mean something?” He put his hand on your thigh, “It doesn’t have to be a boyfriend.”

“Now isn’t the time,” Jin tapped the table in front of you two.

“We’re talking about something,” Yoongi snapped.

“With you two that close, I know what it is; it’s not a good idea—not here.”

With a sigh of annoyance, Yoongi went back to your ear. “What do you say?”

“What do you want me to say? ‘Let’s just have sex in the bathroom’?” You crossed your legs as the waiter came around leaving cups of water.

“Not if you don’t want to,” He kissed your earlobe softly.

“I’ll think about it..” You put some hair behind your ear, “For now, just act normal.” You scooted in your chair, “Please? If you don’t take it easy with this, they’re gonna find out.”

“It’s true.” Jin butted in, sipping from his cup.

“This doesn’t involve you,” Yoongi glared at him, sitting closer to the table as well.

“You expect no one to notice?” He scoffed, “Jimin looks like he might just jump across the table to her, and Hoseok will stare at you all night since you’re the barricade between them.”

“Tae wouldn’t say anything would he?” You asked, looking at him scratching his head while looking at the three of you discussing what he was oblivious about.

“I don’t think he would,” Jin looked at him as well, “Jimin would out of jealousy. While we were out for food yesterday, he wouldn’t stop asking Hoseok hyung about you. He even asked me if I thought you were cute,”

“Of course it would be him,” Yoongi put his hand in his forehead. “Well, I’m not responsible for what happens if he looks at (Y/N) the wrong way-”

“Yoongi, control yourself.” Jin cleared his throat, picking up the menu as Jimin took his place.

“Does everyone know what they want to eat?” Namjoon asked.

“Yes!” Tae chirped, clapping his hands. “What about you, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah, what’s your favorite thing to eat?” Jimin asked, playing with the paper that protected the straw.

“I don’t think I have any favorite,” You shrugged, opening the menu.

“Oh come on, nothing? That’s impossible—there must be something you enjoy more than other things.”

“Hm, if he keeps looking at you like that..” Yoongi growled, looking behind you to act casual.

“Calm down,” You turned the other way as well, “We’re not even together.”

“But you’re mine for the time you’re here,” He shot back, “I intend to keep it that way; I’m possessive, and I don’t share.”

“You’re not gonna have to share anyway-” Your voice rose slightly.

“Guys?” Jimin broke your conversation.

“What are you talking about over there that we can’t hear?” Hoseok raised his eyebrow.

“Nothing. We were just thinking of what we could do after this,” Yoongi turned to his right.

“The arcade!” Tae cheered, “Let’s go!”

“Arcade it is,” Yoongi nodded, smiling to not arise any suspicion in your cousin.

“Hm, alright.” He kept his eyes narrowed towards Yoongi as he turned around to face Namjoon.

“What did I say?~” Jin sang, smiling smugly while flipping through all the meals he could have.

Jimin shook his head, “So, no favorite?”

“Yeah, (Y/N).” Yoongi shifted his weight on the chair, “Anything in particular you like to put in your mouth?”

You were in the middle of sipping from the straw, and you nearly choked. “Um, no.” You covered up.

“Choking comes after we get our alone time,” Yoongi nudged you secretly.

“What’s your favorite color?” Jimin tried ignoring Yoongi getting close to you.

“Is it the color you are right now? You’re blushing,” Yoongi kept going.

“Yeah, but she looks cute.” Tae smiled his signature rectangular smile.

You attempted to cover your face without drawing attention, “Aw, you made her embarrassed.” Jimin pouted extra cutely. “Would you like me to take you outside to get some air?”

“No.” Yoongi locked eyes with him, holding your wrist on you lap. “She’s fine.”

“So much talking going on over there when you should be looking for what you want to eat,” Namjoon said, not looking up from behind the laminated colorful book.

“Look before we order, or you don’t get anything.” Jin set his down.

“I’ll have anything with chicken,” You said, looking through the pages.

“I’ll have anything with meat,” He mimicked you with his own twist.

You set your menu down and looked around the table, “Hey, where’s Jungkook?”

“Oh, it’s his mother’s birthday.” Namjoon set his down as well.

“He’s missing out on all the fun,” Jimin frowned.

“Sad your lover isn’t here?” Hoseok laughed weirdly, holding the table.

“Yah!” He hit the table with his fist, “I just think he’s really handsome, and talented.” Hoseok held his hands open on either side of his face by his temples, while he did that he did kissing sounds. “Hyung!” Jimin dived over the table.

“Aish, you idiot!” Yoongi shouted, moving back quickly. “You spilled the whole cup of water on my pants—it’s freezing.”

“You’re making a scene!” Jin pulled him by his belt back. “We’ll order for you, Yoongi—go try to dry up in the bathroom.”

“Sorry, hyung.” Jimin picked the cup from its side.

“I’ll be back..” Yoongi grumbled, getting up angrily picking at his soaked bottoms.

“I feel bad,” You mumbled to Hoseok.

“You’re good at drying clothes, aren’t you? When your siblings fought over juice, you cleaned them up pretty quick in the bathroom.”

“You should go help him,” Jin suggested, “Maybe he won’t be as mad if he gets dry quickly.”

“Yeah, I’ll order your food.” Hoseok nodded, grabbing your menu. “Go. The food will probably be here or almost ready by the time you two get back,”

“I’ll be back, guys.” You stood up carefully, afraid your skirt might rise. You followed where Yoongi went: somewhere behind a few other tables, and behind a wall.

You knocked on the door lightly, “Hold on.” His voice groaned irritatingly.

“Yoongi, it’s me—(Y/N).” You knocked again.

He unlocked the door, and pulled you in quickly. “Look what he did!” He pointed at his dark jeans.

“They’re black, you can’t tell.” You grabbed some napkins used to dry hands.

“But it feels disgusting,” He shuttered as it made an odd squishy sound in response to his movement.

“It’s just water,” You replied, bunching up numerous paper towels.

“But it feels so uncomfortable, because I’m wearing clothes.”

“Sit down—I need to dry you off.” You pointed to the toilet behind him.

“You came here to help me?” He breathed, slowly sitting backwards. “Do the hyungs know?”

“They all know,” You knelt down beginning to dab his upper thighs. “Hoseok and Jin said I should come help you, actually.”

“Both?” He gawked, “Hoseok said that?”

“He said I’m good at getting cleaned up—or cleaning people up—better said.”

“How would he know that?” He looked down at you.

“I have two younger siblings,” Your other hand that wasn’t working held his other leg to keep steady.

“Really? What are they like?”

“My brother is eight, and my sister is five. Since they’re close in age, they usually just stick with each other. They say they 'love me’,” You did air quotes, “But I highly doubt if you love someone you’d throw your rubber ball at their head repeatedly on your way here.”

“I used to do that to my brother,” He chuckled, “I’m the youngest of two. I used to annoy my brother a lot,”

“I’m the second oldest,” You smiled, still attempting to dry him off. “My sister is in Japan with her husband, though. They met when she was over there for some business trip,” You shrugged, “She told us she was staying over there, and before we knew it she was having children.”

“Yah,” He poked your head, “You hypocrite.”

“What?” You rudely glanced up at him.

“I bet you tortured your older sister; don’t complain about something you used to do as well.” He scolded you, patting your arm as if it were a spanking.

“My sister didn’t have two children pulling her hair, crawling all over her, not letting her sleep, leaving toys around-”

“You love them, don’t you?”

“Of course I do-”

“Then that’s what happens.” He breathed a laugh, “Ah, you have to learn.”

“About what?” You threw the towels in the trash, getting more while looking at him.

“Just because they annoy you shouldn’t make a difference of your feelings—they’re children. Think about the good things they do—things that make you love them.”

You gathered up the towels, and walked back to the pale boy with his legs spread. “Whenever they’re sleepy they cuddle me,” You took your position between his knees again.

“And?”

“I took care of them since they were born, and they’re cute. A lot of times, they sneak out of their bedroom to mine—to sleep, or wake me up with a special 'breakfast’ they made.”

“See? You love them, and they love you. If you really love someone, you’ll do anything for them and look past their bad habits.”

“Are you writing a new song?” You snorted, “That’s more towards couples.”

“It is, but even though they annoy you—no matter how bad—you love them at the end of the day. Have you ever been really upset at them?”

“This once they put my homework in the sink..” You nearly got upset just thinking about it, “Hours of work..literally down the drain.”

“What did you do?” He sounded weird, so you looked up.

“It’s not funny!” You slapped his thigh.

“It kind of is,” He sucked his lips in to hide his grin.

“Ugh,” You stood up, “Maybe you’ll be better at drying yourself if I wasn’t here.” You passed him the balled up towels.

“No!” He held your skirt, “I’m sorry, (Y/N)—it’s not funny.”

“You bet it’s not,” You returned to him.

“Hey, (Y/N)?”

“Yes?” You looked up.

“You know what I said was serious, right?” He read your puzzled look, “That for the time you’re here, you’re mine. Jimin can have fun with himself like he always does, because I have you—and I swear, I will not share you with him.”

“What if I refuse?” You held his thighs, standing up slightly.

“You won’t,” He smirked, leaning forward. “You like me.” He said before kissing you. “I like you.”

“How will my time here be spent with you?” You sat on his drier leg.

“However you want,” He held your thigh to keep you from falling. “Sex, dates, hanging out—sex.”

“You only like me for sex?” You kidded.

“You’re very beautiful,” He caressed your cheek, “You seem like a lovely person, and you’re going to be a great mother.”

“Why did you-”

“Because just in case I get you pregnant from one of our affairs-”

“Yah!” You hit his chest, standing up.

“Watch the chains,” He laughed, straightening them out. “Three dollars?” He held it out.

“You’re..” You turned away, covering your mouth while giggling. “Just get up.”

He felt his lap cautiously, “Hm, good job. Thanks, (Y/N). You can count on me doing the opposite to you,” He unlocked the door, “Come on, shorty.” He pulled you by your lower back. “Before we go back out there,” He held your hand lightly, “Can I get another kiss?”

You stood on your tippy-toes, and held his shoulders as support. “I take it you like my kisses,” You hummed, as he held your hips steady to keep you from losing your balance.

You slowly pecked his lips, “I do.” He smiled softly, before kissing you again. “I can’t believe I just met you yesterday, but I like you more than any girl I’ve ever met.”

“Is that good?”

“Very.” He kissed your forehead, “But you’re Hoseok’s little cousin—not that I care.”

“Then why mention it?” You wrapped your arms around his waist.

“He won’t let us date—let alone be alone together for more than an hour.”

“He’ll come around to the idea,” You said, questioning your statement as it left your lips.

“I doubt it, but I’d like to try.” He kissed your lips, “We should go back.” Grabbing your hand, Yoongi guided you through the tables.

“Welcome back you two,” Namjoon smirked at Yoongi, seeing your hands together.

Your eyes traveled to Jin’s face, which was covered by his palm in disappointment. “I told you to not be suspicious, then you go ahead and do whatever you want; Namjoon knows.”

“It wasn’t me,” You said sitting down, “He-”

“I grabbed her hand, okay? We were walking behind Hoseok anyway,” Yoongi groaned at Jin’s nagging, sitting down next to you.

“He could’ve turned around,”

“Just be quiet,” Yoongi fixed his beanie, “Everything will be fine,”

“(Y/N)~” Jimin sang, smiling widely. He lifted up his straw with a wad of napkin on the end. He filled his mouth with air, and blew as hard as he could.

Unfortunately, you had decided to have a little cleavage for Yoongi. It fell in between your breasts, surprising you. “Hyung!” Yoongi took the tiny ball from your chest, and threw it right at Jimin’s head.

Jin gasped, then his his head on the table. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” He kept repeating.

Namjoon covered his mouth with his hand, “Wow..”

“Oops.” Tae looked the other way, as if he hadn’t seen anything.

“Yoongi,” Jimin started, picking the napkin out of his hair. “Can you explain why you touched her chest?”

“To get your dumb spitball out,” He crossed his arms.

“Yes, but she’s a woman—she has breasts.” He said slowly as if Yoongi wouldn’t be able to understand, “We met her yesterday, and you just stick your hand in her bra?”

“What?” Hoseok looked at Jimin, then Yoongi, then you. “What the hell?”

“I didn’t stick my hand in her bra, and I’m sure the pervert who put it there would say otherwise.”

“Calm down, Yoongi.” You said so only he could hear.

“It was an honest mistake,” Jimin defended himself.

“Oh,” Yoongi laughed sarcastically, “Was it now? Because, it sure seemed like you were staring at them right before you did it.”

“She isn’t yours—you don’t own her-” He stood up.

“She isn’t something to play around with either,” Yoongi stood as well.

“Hey, hey!” Tae tugged on Jimin’s arm, “You should sit down,”

“She’s just a girl—Hoseok’s cousin.” Namjoon said calmly, “There’s no need to fight over her, because none of us have a chance with her.”

“Us?” Hoseok’s voice cracked, “So, you like her too?”

“Well, don’t get me wrong—she’s really gorgeous.” Namjoon raised his hands.

“Yah!” Jin slammed his fist on the table, “Everyone sit down, and stop fighting! Yoongi, you can’t have her—neither can you, Jimin. Namjoon, something tells me you don’t want to upset Hoseok, so don’t. Everyone needs to behave,”

Tae sat quietly, watching the table cloth. Once everyone exchanged looks, they sat. “I’m sorry,” Jimin apologized to you, “I really didn’t mean to do that,”

“It’s okay,” You cleared your throat, “I-I just wanna say, nothing is going on between Yoongi and I—in case you got that from his little outburst. I’m here to visit my family—not to sleep with boys, or start relationships. You’re Hoseok’s group mates, and his brothers. Let’s just forget this ever happened, and have fun; alright?”

“Seems fair enough,” Jimin agreed, rubbing his neck.

Everyone was still quiet, then you looked beside you to Yoongi. He was staring at his hands resting on his thighs, “I had to say that.” You whispered, wriggling your hand in between his. “Believe me.” You checked for anyone’s wandering eyes, then kissed his cheek and held his hand tighter.

“Good.” He intertwined your fingers.

“Look, our waiter is here.” Jin broke the silence in the table.

All of you ate, and spoke amongst yourselves. Hoseok would play with his food, earning a laugh from everyone. Tae would flash his aegyo whenever possible. Yoongi would look at you while smiling or laughing at his group mates being idiots, and hold your hand whenever no one was paying attention. “Ah,” Jin sunk in his seat, “I’m full.”

“Because you had enough food to feed three people,” Namjoon pushed his plate away.

“Are we still going to the arcade?” Tae bounced.

“Yeah, there’s no where else we have to be.” Namjoon answered Tae.

“I’ll call the waiter for the bill,” Jin raised his hand, looking for the young guy who had taken care of you.

“Have you ever been to an arcade before?” Jimin asked.

“Hoseok and I used to always go,” You beamed.

“We had matches against each other with the shooter games to see who shot the most aliens,” He puffed his chest out proudly, “I always won.”

“Did she put up a fight, though?” Yoongi was interested.

“A good one,” Hoseok nodded, “It was a close call almost all the time: ninety-seven to one hundred.”

“You’re really good at games then, aren’t you (Y/N)?” Tae smiled.

“I guess,” You breathed a laugh.

“Have you ever won anything in those crane games?” Yoongi asked, putting his arm on the back of your chair as if he would with any of the hyungs.

“Aren’t those rigged?”

“In L.A I won two—I think—with only one try for each.”

“I still have the tiger he won. I tried, but I didn’t make it.” Tae frowned, “I don’t give up hope—I try every time I see one.”

“That’s how they get your money,” Namjoon looked at him, “Haven’t you ever pieced it together?”

Tae stopped, and thought for a short while. “Aish!” He hit his forehead, “The more people try, the more money they get; they don’t even have to change the dolls in there.”

“I never thought about that..” Hoseok placed his index finger on his lip, “It’s a good thing I don’t spend all my time or money on it.”

“Can we get our bill?” Jin asked the guy who walked by. He nodded, going to the cashier.

“Alright!” Tae punched the air, “Jimin, what do you wanna do first?”

“Racing games!” He high fived Tae.

“Yeah!” He clapped.

“Do you play the racing games?” Namjoon asked you, watching Tae and Jimin get excited.

“No, not at all.” You shook your head.

“Hm, maybe I could teach you?” Yoongi touched your thigh, “I’ll go gentle—it’ll be your first time with me; I don’t go easy.” As he said that in a darker tone, his fingers traveled upwards—pushing the loose fabric of your skirt up as well. “I’m good at those games,” He propped his head on his hand, “Really good.” His middle finger brushed your inner thigh, dangerously close to your zone.

Jin coughed, slightly startling Yoongi from his deep stare into your eyes. “That racing game has to wait,”

“I know, Jin.” Yoongi glared at him, taking his hand off of you.

Pretty soon after, the bill came and everyone pitched in—with the exception of you. The boys wanted your time in Seoul to be something fun, and something for you to remember. When no one knew where a good arcade was, Tae was the one to inform everyone where one was. It was a short walk, but with the goofing around it seemed like a blink of an eye. The darkness allowed Yoongi to lock your pinkies together—a form of hand holding he could get away with. “May I stamp your hand?” A man asked, holding his own hand out. Everyone allowed him to stamp their hands with the arcades logo; glowing in the dark under the LED lights. “And your hand miss,” He stamped your hand extra lightly.

“Yah, let’s go jagi.” Yoongi pulled your other hand, looking at the guy.

“Thanks for keeping (Y/N) safe for me,” Hoseok thanked Yoongi, looking at your hands. “You can let her go now; he isn’t looking.”

“Oh, right.” He dropped your hand to your side, beginning to walk. He waited a good distance as everyone ran to their games they were especially good at, and scooped your hand right up again. “Come on, that racing game is waiting.” He walked you along to a fake motorcycle, “Before the actual game starts, I thought I might teach you how to play this game.” He patted the seat, “Hop on; don’t be scared, it’ll be fun.”

“I’m wearing a skirt,” You complained. Your eyes fixated on the oncoming eleven to thirteen year old boys already waiting for your skirt to fly up as you sat.

“I got you,” Yoongi lifted you up from under your arms, sitting you down. “I’ll start the game.”

“Yoongi~” You sheepishly called lightly.

“I’m starting it, I’m starting it.” He laughed, pushing the button.

“No,” You hung your head down, feeling the heat fill your face as you hear the little whistles and comments the young boys were telling you.

“Go!” He cheered, watching the game start.

“No-”

“I’ll help you,” He held the handles, basically playing for you.

All the while, Yoongi was so focused in the game that he didn’t hear the little catcalls you were receiving. “Yoongi~” You grabbed his shoulder, about to climb off.

“(Y/N),” He held your waist, “What are you doing?”

“I need to get off,” You hid your face behind your hair, holding his shoulders.

“For what?” He looked behind your back to the boys nudging each other while looking at your bum—just waiting for you to accidentally flash them. “Little pervs..” He growled, “(Y/N), get back on it.” He pushed you lightly, sitting you back down. He sat behind you, shooting a horrible glare to them as he put his arms around you to continue the race. “I hope they leave,” He mumbled, angrily playing the game now. “You know I won’t let anything happen to you, babe.” He kissed your cheek, “I don’t care if Hoseok sees, he’ll just have to accept it.”

“Isn’t it weird to be with someone younger than you?”

“No, not at all. I like it,” He pressed his cheek against yours, slouching down a bit to be at the same height. “It just means you call me oppa,”

“I would call you oppa if we were the same age—just to be flirty.”

“Mm, well now it’s really oppa since I’m older. I like you calling me that—maybe daddy too.” He winked, smiling wildly.

“No.” You punched his chest, “Your race is almost over.”

“I know,” He stuck his tongue out lightly, leaning forward to see the screen better. He was almost in first place; second, to be exact. You watched his facial expressions: his tongue, the thing that once explored your own. If you really wanted to, all you had to do was grab his face and kiss him with his provoking tongue. “I won!” He shouted, looking down at you. “What are you looking at?” You stuck your tongue out, mimicking him. “I can do more things than rap with it,” He bit his lip lightly, “Would you like to see?”

“Would you like to show me?” You looked up at him.

“More than anything,” With that, he jumped off the motorcycle and pulled you off. “We need to find the bathroom—now.”

“You don’t know where it is?”

“What would make you think I knew where it was?” He searched above the children’s heads.

“You’re dragging me like you know where,”

“Excuse me, do you know where the bathroom is? My wife is pregnant, she needs to go—but I need to help her. Is there anyway I could-?”

“Right this way,” A woman who worked there guided you. “Good luck on the baby; it doesn’t even look like you are.”

“She’s just a month,” Yoongi rubbed your stomach as if you were carrying his child.

“How nice!” She clapped, “Be careful.” She smiled while walking away.

“Thank god she believed it,” Yoongi slammed the door shut, locking it after. He took a moment to lock eyes with you, then instantly your lips smashed together. His hands went straight to your bum, squishing and bringing you up to his lips. Your hands went to the back of his neck, pulling him down as you both hungrily attacked each other’s lips. Your sloppy exchange of affection made Yoongi make you walk backwards, backing into the side of the sink. “You know what I wanna do to you?” He quickly asked you as you separated for breath.

“What is it?” You pulled on his sweatshirt.

“I wanna taste how good I imagined you would since our little fling last night,” He lifted you up to sit you on the sink. “You in?” You nodded, lifting the hem of his sweatshirt above his head. “Don’t get too excited,” He chuckled against your lips, “I’m gonna give you what you need, but you can’t give me anything just yet.” His lips connected back to yours, opening his mouth up wide for your tongue to go in. You did as he wished, and it was a repeat of last night—no chance to fight for dominance. “I’m in charge,” He gripped your thigh roughly, digging his nails into you. His tongue went over your tongue in just the right spots. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” You bit your thumb, watching him push your skirt up.

“What possessed you to wear this little thing, hm?” He hummed, kneeling down to be at level with your bottom half.

“I liked it,” He tugged on your panties, “Don’t you like it?”

“I would like it better if you weren’t wearing anything,” Yoongi cockily replied, pulling your shoes off. “What about the shirt, huh?” He slipped one side of your panties off, leaving it dangling on your ankle.

“The cleavage?”

“Yes. Who’s it for?” He placed your legs on his shoulders, “We’re they for Jimin?”

“No.” You were starting to arch your back as he put his head in between your thighs.

“Who are they for then?”

“You.” You fought a moan, feeling his hot breath on your wet core.

“Mm,” He said understandingly, “Who made you like this?” His thumb gently stroked your clit. “I won’t start until you answer.”

“You-”

“Who?” He got rougher.

“You—Yoongi, you.” You breathed, looking up. His talking stopped—because by now, his tongue was busy with something else. His tongue didn’t leave one spot untouched; up, down, clit, and grunt. His mouth was buried in you, bringing his arms up to hold your squirming body still. It felt blissful—his experienced tongue knew exactly what to do to make you a moaning mess. “More, more..” You mines weakly as he pulled away.

“Hold on,” He wiped his mouth with his hand. His fingers plunged into you, curling after they went in.

“Oh my god..” You moaned, gripping his hair harshly. He didn’t mind the pulling, but instead licked your clit over and over—and gradually got to sucking on the nub instead. Your words were incomprehensible, gripping the edge of the sink, moaning as loud as you want. “I-I’m-”

“I can tell.” He said, going back to giving you the pleasure you yearned for.

“A little more..” You pulled his hair, “A little..” You were finding it hard to speak, since your voice was exchanged for moans. Yoongi’s fingers pulsed into you faster and harder, as his lips tightened on your nub. Your stomach tied in a knot, and your core tingled with the suction. Curling your toes, you felt the wave of release coming. “Yoongi-ah.” You shut your eyes tightly, opening your lips as you came inside of his mouth. You strung out tired hums, “Mm.” You looked back down to Yoongi lapping up your liquids happily.

“Yum,” He licked his fingers, standing up. “Open.” He stuck his fingers in your mouth, “Suck.”

You did as you were told, “Yummy.” You licked in between them as well. You giggled as you got a good look at his face, “You have me all over your chin, and lips.” You licked his chin softly, “Better.”

“This was the most fun I’ve had in a long time,” He pecked your lips. “Get dressed before we get caught.”

You brought up your panties, hopping off the sink. “Wait,” You hugged his bare torso, resting your head on his chest. “Thank you..” You pecked his lips back.

He smiled his cutesy gummy smile, “Anytime, jagi.” He ran his fingers through your hair.

You finished getting dressed, and making sure you were all in order before going out to face any of the guys. “That took a while; everything alright?” The woman who led you asked.

“Just fine,” Yoongi waved her off, wrapping his arm around you. “She just hadn’t gone pee all day, and of course is going for two.”

She smiled warmly, “Good luck, you two.”

“Thank you, miss.” Yoongi politely waved. “Let’s go find the hyungs,” He held your hand, pulling you through the crowd of children and parents. “Hey look, they have glow in the dark paint.”

“Can we go try it?” You asked with hopeful eyes, looking up at him.

“Sure, why not?” You rushed over to the station, dipping your hand in the paint. “It washes out with water; how nice.”

“We could shower together,” Yoongi winked, dipping both of his hands in the goo.

You slapped your hands on his chest, “In your dreams.”

“Ow, that hurt.” He falsely pouted.

You were about to laugh, but his hands slapped your bum hard—as he laughed. “Ow!” You groaned.

“Can you see it-”

“There you guys are!” Hoseok ran over to you, pushing your back lightly.

“Hey, where have you been?” Yoongi picked his pants up.

“With the guys-hey, why do you have handprints on your..” Hoseok trailed off, pointing at the back of your skirt.

You’re Not Welcome Here

Gravity Falls
Word Count: 2,376
Characters: Stanley Pines, Stanford Pines, Bill Cipher
Pairings: None

Hurt/Comfort. Brotherly Love.
Bill comes back as a portion of Stanley’s mind and tries destroying his family. Ford and Stan have to deal with it together.


The sun was beating down brightly on the expanse of the Mystery Shack. Nestled into the battered couch on the porch, pit cola in hand, Stan watched as Dipper and Mabel hurled colorful balloons of water at one another. As the two youths’ laughter filled the air, Stan couldn’t recall a day where he had felt more at peace. Even despite the project looming in the basement, and the mounting excitement from almost being able to bring Stanford back, Stan relished this moment, not knowing if he’d have the luxury of such a peace again. A wistful sigh escaped him as a hand clasped his shoulder.

Stan reflexively turned back to see who had disturbed his moment, and nearly fell from the couch.

“STANFORD?! Y-you…!” Stan clamored, swiftly rising to a stand to face him.

“Woah!” Ford chortled, putting his hands up. “Easy! I guess I shouldn’t sneak up on you, huh.”

Stan blanched, his mind racing. The portal couldn’t have already spit Stanford out could it have? That was impossible, he still had hours before it would be ready to run! His mind was racing for any conceivable of make sense of why his brother was standing in front of him when this visage of his brother spoke.

“Stan? … Are you okay?” Ford said, concern washing over his expression.

“How- How are you back?!” Stan choked out, a sharp pang in the corner of his eyes.

“… Oh… Stanley, do you not remember?” Stanford wrung his hands,

“… I’m sorry… Um… You saved me from the portal about three weeks ago… However, you’ve had a bit of trouble with your memory lately… Could you maybe tell me the latest things you do remember?”

Stan was reeling, this couldn’t be real. He remembered today, today was not a day that Stanford was around, actually, as he recalled, agents would be around the corner of the house to tackle him, and take his precious niece and nephew away. In addition, later in this day, those same agents would try breaking into the basement after his brother had emerged from the portal and punched him square in the jaw. Stan rubbed his face absently, trying to make sense of this predicament he had found himself in.

“Stanley?” Ford called again, ripping Stan away from his internal thoughts, “We can work through this… Just try to remember the last thing you’ve done outside today.”

Stan all at once couldn’t even recall how he’d gotten here. He knew Dipper and Mabel of course, that the Shack was his business and where he lived, his brothers old home, that the kids where here for the summer. But he couldn’t recall the days around him. Which day it was, what yesterday had held. Nothing. He felt his heart speed up. His breath hitched and suddenly couldn’t get enough oxygen. His vision started to waver when he started to sway, his knees about to buckle, he braced himself on the door frame. He heard a vague sound from his brother, before everything stopped.

Stanley heard nothing as color drained from his vision, and suddenly the world righted itself as his mind exploded into clarity. This was the day he had brought Stanford home. The day that both of his great-niece and nephew found out that ‘Stanford Pines’ was not the man they thought he was. Stanford. He remembered the burns on his wrists, ankles, and neck. Screaming after a demon to leave the younger twins alone. Switching places with his brother. Preparing to never come back. Blue flames. A geometrical, one eyed, yellow nightmare. A swift right hook.

Stanley looked around at the frozen scene before him and tried make sense of it. “Am I… Dead?”, Stan muttered to himself. The silence stretched on for a few more moments before he heard a sound that sent a tremble up his spine. A sharp and shrill laughter broke over the area as a bright light amassed itself into a triangular figure with one eye.

“OH I BET YOU WISH FEZ.” Bill cackled.

Stan’s veins turned to ice and fire all at once, his mind crying for vengeance and peace.

Stan was almost positive he and his twin had prevailed over this devil. However, if Stan himself had escaped total erasure from the memory gun, it was sound reasoning to assume that Bill, a being with total mastery of the mindscape might have been able to do that too. He and his brother had still hoped that wasn’t the case, but when had they ever been so lucky? After all, Stan should have been…gone.

Slowly circling Stan, the dream demon chuffed while coming to a halt, hovering over Stanley’s shoulder. “DON’T WORRY! ILL HELP YOU SHUFFLE OFF THAT PESKY MORTAL COIL!”

Stan snapped toward the triangular monster to face him, his blood boiling. “Good luck with that pal, you off me, you off us both!”

Bill was quiet for a fraction of a second before he exploded into laughter again.

“HAHAHAHA RIGHT! WELL! HOWS ABOUT THIS INSTEAD!” Bill rose his hand dramatically and snapped as the entire scene transformed.

They were in the Shack this time, Stanford was in his sweater and trench coat, idly sketching something in a notebook while the kids were sprawled out next to him, asleep on the couch. Stanley observed his own form, sleeping as well, nestled into the comfort of his chair. There were party decorations still littering the house, and Mabel’s scrap book perched atop Stan’s lap. Stan gazed on for a moment at the peaceful scene, remembering the party, and how badly he had wished the kids could stay. Thinking of all this peace, and what he had to protect, he snapped to Bill and hissed. “What do ya think you’re doin?!”

Bill bellowed another harsh laugh, “OH WOW STANLEY, YOU’RE DENSE…” Bill shook his form as though he was shaking his head, eye narrowing menacingly. “YOU GOT IN MY WAY STAN PINES… TOOK AWAY WHAT I HAD… SO! IM GOING TO RETURN THE FAVOR!!”

Launching himself at the still sleeping version of Stanley, Bill disappeared into the body. Stanley watched in mute horror as his sleeping self was roused, eyes snapping open to reveal horrible, yellow, cat like eyes. Then, his blood ran cold as he heard that god awful laughter rip from his own mouth.

Stanford turned to “Stanley” and crooked his head. “Are you okay?” Stanford said softly, with an expression to match.

“OF COURSE SIXER” The abomination of Bill and Stanley’s combined form rose, discarding Mabel’s precious book lazily in the chair. “IM DOING PERFECT ACTUALLY”

How could Ford not hear the unearthly tone to ‘his’ voice? Stanley called his twins name, but his words went unheard.

Bill slowly walked over to Stanford before hovering behind him, “SO! WHAT CHA WORKIN’ ON?” He leaned down awkwardly.

Stanford gave a concerned look, but shook the expression from his face. “Um well!” he said smiling, “I’m sketching a route for when we finally get out to sea… I believe we can take this route right here” Stanford said pointing, “However Its not entirely complete.”

“Stanford! Listen to me!” Stan reached for a nearby remote ready to wing it at his twin, however is hand phased right through the object.

Stanley’s form hummed as bill put a forearm on Stanford’s head and leaned there.

“WELL…” Bill mumbled, before pausing for a moment.

“IT’S A SHAME YOU’LL NEVER FINISH IT…“

Swiftly dropping to his- or rather Stanley’s knees,  the hand that was resting on Stanford’s head, slammed down, gripping Ford tightly in a chokehold. Using his free hand to add leverage to the attack, bill cranked down harder on Ford’s bandaged neck, a deep sneer on his face.

“GAH” Ford choked. “St-a-n… Wh-a…”

Bill let loose another laugh from Stan’s mouth before leaning into fords ear to speak, “GUESS AGAIN IQ…”

Ford’s eyes widened in horror as he thrashed even harder to escape his clutches. “Wha-d you do- w-with HRRKKGGH”

Wrenching aggressively, Bill tightened down on Fords throat to silence him.

“DON’T SWEAT OL STANLEY! HE SHOULD BE SOMEWHERE! YOU REALLY AUGHT TO WORRY ABOUT YOURSELF SIXER!”

Clawing at the arm crushing his throat, Ford choked breathless sputters of pain. Eyes watering from the intense pressure on his charred throat, his struggles becoming more feeble.

“FORD!!” Stanley called. Launching himself at Bill, he tried to grapple him. However, instead of making contact, he sailed through his body’s occupied form, tumbling to the other side of the room.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!!!” Stanley bellowed.

Stanley saw the grisly image of his own face turn to him and contort into a grin, while his arms simultaneously cranked down around his twin’s neck.

“HEH, SORRY STANLEY…- “. Bill spat, gleaming at Stan from behind his own eyes.

Time slowed to a crawl. Stan couldn’t catch a breath; his heart wrenched. His lungs constricting as though he could feel the lack of oxygen his twin was suffering. Ford’s face twisted with airless agony.

“HOW ABOUT. WE GIVE OLD FORDSY. A BREAK- “

With a sharp twist, and a hand placed under Ford’s jaw, Bill wrenched his arms sideways.

A loud audible snap echoed through the room as Stanford Pine’s mute and distressed expression rested directly on Stanley as his struggling ceased. His head limped to the side as his whole body went slack.

Stan felt everything end right there. The non-existent stomach of his intangible form heaved. His vision faded, as the world halted. He wanted to throw up, or die, or anything. A soft thud drew his attention, his eyes wide with horror he reflexively looked up from where his eyes had found the floor. Bill was now standing in facing him, Stanford a heap on the floor. It barely got through, but a thought surfaced. That damn demon had murdered his brother with HIS own hands… Then discarded Ford on the ground. He… Didn’t even bother to set his body down gently. His brothers body?  His head swam again at the thought, as his eyes and body fell. He wanted to scream, be violent, something. But he couldn’t, he was rooted to the ground with the overwhelming loss emanating from his core. He shook, as his ears registered that god awful howl ripping from “his” throat again. Stan didn’t realize the tears rolling down the face of his ethereal visage as he looked up yet again. He saw his own face smile and lean down to him.

“AND JUST WAIT AND SEE WHAT I DO TO THOSE KIDS.”

——

Stanley shot up as a desperate cry ripped past his mouth unhindered.

His body shook as his hands grasped for something to ground him. The darkness swallowed him as he fell to the ground with a hard smack. He heard a noise somewhere in the dark and jumped away from the sound.

“Stanley! Are you alright?!” A gravelly but familiar voice called in the dark. Stan heard a small clamor before he felt hands clasp his shoulders. He shied away from the contact but the person held fast.

“Stan!” He felt wide hands shake him gently. “C-can you tell me what’s wrong?” 

Stan discredited the gentle rock for his body’s own deep quake. His eyes bleary swept the room before they rested on the vague figure in front of him. Something warm brushed his cheek and his hand rose automatically. He pulled his hand away from his face and looked down. Something wet coated his fingertips.

“Stanley…?”, The voice whispered.

Stan wiped the moisture that had somehow accumulated in his eyes away, blinking a few times he tried to focus.

Suddenly he felt the weight lift from his shoulders and heard a shuffle before a dim light washed over the room, Stan hissed as the light flooded his eyes. Before he had time to complain, a gentle hand braced his shoulder before adjusting a pair of glasses over his face.

His vision righted and he saw his brother with an expression of deep worry furrowing his brow. Before Stan could speak, Ford probed.

“Do… Do you remember where you are?”

Stan observed the cabin of the boat that they had been bunking in for the past few weeks. The memories broke past the pounding in his head, and hammering in his chest; he was with his brother out at sea. After the kids had gone home, they had cleaned up the damage from that business with the sky vomiting nightmares; after he took down that d-

At that everything came crashing back down on him.

The vivid image of the Shack.
Sunshine, and laughter.

The peace of the living room.
Nerd books, and sleeping children.

The snap of Fords neck under his own muscular arms.
Shrill terrible laughter.

Stan broke.
He lunged at his brother and dug his hands into the back of Ford’s shirt; His hands clamoring for purchase. A choked sob left Stan’s throat as he pulled Ford in tightly, his whole body wracked with tremors. Ford drew in a sharp breath from the sudden embrace.

“Hey…”, the old scientist managed.

Quiet and muffled, a pathetic sound came from the trembling man.

“…J-jus… a… sec.”

A second of silence slipped past before Ford gently wrapped his arms around his brothers shuddering form, pulling him in easily.

—–

Stan didn’t know how long he had sat on the cabins dimly lit floor clinging to his twin. Listening to the rhythmic sound of breath leaving his brother had grounded him, assuring him that Ford was most definitely alive, and right beside him. Finally calmed of his tremors, his breathing even, Stan pulled away from Ford and looked to him intently. Ford’s face clearly displayed the confusion and worry mounting in his mind. Stan looked to him, and spoke somberly.

“Sixer… I think we gotta talk about somethin’…”

Ford gave him an inquiringly owlish look before he asked quietly, “Yes?”

Stan choked back a rising lump in his throat. The thought of his dreams becoming reality sparking terror to mount in his mind.

“I- I think… Bill may still be… around.”

Ford’s eyes grew wide in shock, before his expression fell. His body trembling, he pulled Stan in.

It was Ford’s turn to cling to his brother and not let go.



Yes! I’m finally done! Posting this before I destroy it by over editing. Let me know what you think! Comments, and pointers are always welcome!

Also! Thank you to @villyre​ and to my resident sister for helping me smooth this out a little! I probably wouldn’t have gotten this out here had it not been for you guys!  

A Court of War and Starlight: Part 18

(Read: Part I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI | XVII | XVIII | XIX | XX | XXI | XXII | XXIII | XXIV | XXV | Nessian I | XXVI | XXVII | XXVIII | Elucien I | XXIX | XXX | XXXI | XXXII | XXXIII | XXXIV | XXXV | Elucien II | XXXVI | XXXVII | XXXVIII | Nessian II | XXXIX | XL | Feyrhys I | XLI | Elucien III | XLII | XLIII | Elucien IV | Nessian III | XLIV | XLV | XLVI | Elucien V | Azriel I | XLVII | XLVIII | XLIX | L | Elucien VI | Moriel I | LI | LII | LIII | LIV | LV | LVI | LVII | LVIII | LIX | LX | LXI | Nessian IV | LXII | LXIII | LXIV | LXV | LXVI | LXVII | LXIII | LXIX | LXX | LXXI | LXXII | LXXIII | LXXIV | LXXV | Epilogue )

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Behind Tarquin was an army, full of High Fae and lesser fae alike, all brimming with power and eagerness to fight. The young High Lord scanned the scene before him with cool eyes and an even expression, as though he were doing no more than deciding what color curtains he wanted in his house.

“Lord Tarquin, thank the Mother,” Lucien breathed, striding up to the High Lord and grasping his arm.

Tarquin blinked and offered Lucien a small, slow smile. “Lucien, my friend,” he said. His eyes flicked back to the leashed chaos of the Spring Court. “It seems I came at the right time.”

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A Flash of Color and Life - Mor’s Court of Nightmares

Series: A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas
Characters: Mor, Cassian, Azriel, Rhysand, Feyre, Amren, Keir
POV: Mor
Ship: Hints of Mor/Azriel, Feyre/Rhysand

Rating: T

Word Count: 5033
Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8321536/

Summary: Chapter 42, 43, and a little of 44 from Mor’s POV (plus bonus scene!).

Mor has always hated the Hewn City and everything associated with it. Today is no exception…

Comments: IT’S FINALLY DONE! This was requested by @feysand16 for Mor’s POV of the Court of Nightmares… & I may have gotten just a bit carried away ^^; But here it is! Mor is such  fun character to write, and I hope I did her justice. The title is a reference to Chapter 42, in which Feyre refers to Mor as “a flash of color and life in this strange, cold place.” Thank you also to @illyriantremors for always being such a kind and willing beta for my fics! I can’t thank you enough!

I am so sorry this took so long to actually write, but I hope you all like it! :)

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Starless

Prompt: AU in which Dan and Phil are both 16 years old, heavily abused, and both decided to run away to London, where they meet on the streets 

Warnings: Abuse/bullying, injuries, swearing

 Part 1/maybe 2 or 3?

Word count: 1,642

“Say it,” taunted the other boy, glaring at Dan with an amused smirk on his face. “Say it or I’ll kick your ass.”

“Fuck no, get out my face, Jaspar,” Dan sneered, turning around to stalk to some other part of the building where he could be away from the others.

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anonymous asked:

Immortal AU golly. Please.

Fandom: Rookie Blue
Pairing: Gail x Holly 
Angst, Romance

The Pecks are a family of immortals tasked with the safety of Toronto. That only police know their secret complicates Gail’s relationship with Holly, just when all Gail wants is not to be in the dark alone.

Also on AO3 and FF


She gazed out over a city on the edge. Dark shadows clashed with the jagged cuts of broken windows in alley-bound warehouses, punching holes in the sheer facades of abandoned urbanization. Steam rose from the streets in a dim haze under the onslaught of a driving drizzle. The wind carried only eerie silence and the occasional quickly-silenced wail or car alarm. It was Gotham, basically, and she was Batman, captain of the universe. Always.

Even when she heard the clunk of familiar footfalls behind her on the iron fire escape, she did not step away from her eyrie.

“Brother, why are we meeting in the most godforsaken part of this godforsaken city?” Gail demanded snarkily.

A solid presence stepped up beside her, and her brother adopted a wide-legged stance to stare out into the dark with her, hands deep in leather pockets.

“Anywhere else and Mother would find out,” he reminded her. Neither had yet looked at the other. After centuries, neither felt the need.

“I hate getting wet,” Gail muttered miserably.

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