#(although it deals with the sixth commandment)

[tellyouily]

blankets over my barbed wire

dnf - 1.8k words

hey guys i wrote a thing :) dnf have an argument but they become friends again i promise and they also hug and kiss

George is in the middle of skimming through the insanely complex block of commands that is the Fusion code when an unnecessarily loud knock at his office door snaps him out of his focus.

Sapnap. Irritation brews in him, but he turns in his chair anyway, pulling one AirPod out to pause his music.

“What?” George snaps, not bothering to sound more patient than he is.

Idiotnap pokes his head in. His eyebrows are raised in expectation. “Are you done being a bitch?”

It takes a second for the question to register, and when it does, George puts his headphone back in and turns to his monitors.

Sometimes, it’s hard to believe how easily Sapnap can get under his skin with just a few words. What’s even more annoying, is that Sapnap is mixing himself into this at all. This—George and Dream’s… conversation.

Their conversation that George blew way out of proportion.

“No.”

Sapnap scoffs loudly enough to reach the desk, and although George has paused his music to hear him, he refuses to give him any attention right now.

“Come on bro. How are you acting like this isn’t your fault?”

“I’m not done,” George repeats, pointedly ignoring the comment. What does Sapnap know about this anyway? He has some sixth sense for sussing out tension between Dream and George, and it has never been useful to either of them.

There’s a pause that goes on just long enough for George to glance at the door again to see if Sapnap has left, which—he hasn’t. George rolls his eyes and turns back, unpausing his music.

Sapnap sighs again and taps the doorframe. “Alright, fine. Be a bitch, I don’t care. I’m going out with Ken to get tacos.”

“Have fun.”

“I will.”

This is when Sapnap should turn to leave, but George can sense that he’s still there. He can never take George’s dismissive answer for an answer, intent on getting things out in the open instead. In his peripheral vision, George can just about make out Sapnap throwing his head back in exasperation.

“Dream is downstairs,” he says begrudgingly.

George rolls his eyes internally; he should have guessed that Sapnap would try to play peacemaker. He continues to press space and backshift repeatedly on his keyboard to seem busy.

Sapnap goes on, “So please, just talk to him. Or don’t. Whatever, I’m done dealing with your dysfunctional ass relationship. Just—go talk to him.”

With that, he finally goes to shut the door, but not before getting in one last word. “Pussy.”

As soon as he’s gone, George pulls his other AirPod out and lets his head fall back against the headrest. It’s a mess. Again.

And Sapnap was right, it is George’s fault—again.

It’s not that he and Dream never argue. Part of their chemistry is thanks to their mutual ability to take a joke and knowing exactly what to say to rile each other up. It’s what they do; they pick fights and come up with intentionally bad takes just to spark a debate.

They like arguing. It’s fun, and it’s easy, just like everything else when it comes to them.

And it’s not like that aspect of their friendship changed when they got… together. George doesn’t even know if that’s what they’re calling it—does Dream tell people they’re together? What if—no, it doesn’t matter.

George shakes his head to stop the thought from spiraling.

The point is that nothing really changed after they became more than friends. Their dynamic has stayed the same, just with an added depth that George can’t describe. He supposes they’re in love. Or something.

But this conversation, last night, wasn’t an argument. They were just talking normally until George decided to say the entirely wrong thing. And maybe it hurt a little extra because of this ‘added depth’.

He regretted picking the fight as soon as the words passed his lips. It was late and they were both tired and Dream was at his desk working on the code George has been staring at all morning.

(His poor attempt at doing something to help; at saying sorry without having to say it.)

Dream had seemed preoccupied and George had asked him what was on his mind. And Dream had been honest, as he always is.

“I’ve just been thinking about you and me and Youtube, and the hurricane, and… I don’t know. I guess I’ve been overwhelmed, a little bit. I want you to be happy here. But I keep reminding myself that we need each other, and that we finally get to have that—”

“Well,” George had butted in, without thinking. “I don’t need you.”

Dream had blinked. “Okay. Well, I need you.”

It was such a tender and typically-Dream thing to confess, and George has no idea what came over him to follow it up with what he did.

As a rule, they don’t talk much about London.

He thinks Dream avoids it mostly as a courtesy to George, which he appreciates, but for George, his old home seems lightyears away and he would rather keep that way. He loves Florida more each day, and he loves Dream even more each day, and those are two things he knows for certain.

So he doesn’t understand what came over him when he somehow ended up saying the complete opposite.

“Well, that’s just you, then. I could move back to London right now and be fine on my own.”

He cringes at the recent memory, and feels something tighten uncomfortably around his heart when he recalls the look that the words had put on Dream’s face.

“Okay, George,” he had said when the initial surprise had faded. Then, devastatingly, “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He had left the room without another word, his arm brushing against George’s in the doorway, and George had just stood there like an idiot.

It had been such a stupid thing to say. So stupid.

He doesn’t even know where it came from—there has never been a time where he meant those words.

Yes, I need you, would have been the only honest response. That, and, I don’t ever want to go back there.

He thinks the only person who can possibly annoy him more than Sapnap, is himself. And he knows helping Dream with the Fusion code isn’t going to cut it for an apology.

. . .

Downstairs, the midday sun is pouring in through the big windows. Up in his dark office, George had almost forgotten that it was daytime.

He finds Dream in the first place he looks; in the living room on the couch with his laptop perched on his lap. He’s clearly in the middle of something, probably typing up some email or other, and George finds himself hesitating by the kitchen island.

It’s dumb that he’s nervous, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is. What is he supposed to say? Sorry? I’m an idiot, please forgive me? No, they know each other too well for that—Dream knows him too well for that.

Luckily for him, it’s Dream who breaks the silence.

“Hey,” his voice makes George’s head snap up.

“Hi,” he blurts out in response. “I…” he swallows, and Dream raises his eyebrows.

George sighs and starts walking towards him. “I’m sorry,” he manages to say. “For yesterday.”

He stops at the foot of the couch, burning hot under Dream’s expectant gaze. He wouldn’t blame Dream for wanting George to suffer a little, watching him fumble with his words.

To his surprise, Dream’s lips curve into a smile. He lifts one hand to rub at the back of his neck, stretching from sitting for a while. “Okay,” he says simply.

George blinks. “Okay?”

Dream shrugs. “I believe you.”

The smile on his face lifts some of the pressure off George’s heart, even if he knows he still has a lot to make up for.

He suppresses the urge to mirror it—he needs Dream to know that he means it. “It’s not funny. I’m apologizing. I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Dream says with a laugh, crossing one ankle over the other. “I hear you.”

He doesn’t seem as upset as George thinks he has a right to be. But George doesn’t know why he’s surprised—Dream has always been the more easygoing out of the two of them. He’s not one to hold a grudge, especially not with George.

He tries not to sound too hopeful when he asks, “Do you forgive me?”

There’s a pause before Dream slides his laptop aside and gets up. George watches him closely as he closes the short distance between them, and he is not too proud to melt into the hug Dream wraps him in. Even though it’s a hug that he definitely doesn’t deserve right now.

“I really am sorry,” he mumbles into the safety of Dream’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean what I said. About London. I don’t know why I said it at all.”

Dream rubs his back. His voice is soft when he asks, “You don’t want to go back?”

“No,” George squeezes his eyes shut. “I definitely don’t.”

A warm hand snakes its way under his hoodie. George pulls back to look Dream in the eye. “I’m sorry I made you think I did.”

Dream nods, his whole expression soft.

“It’s okay,” he says, and George thinks he means it. “I know you didn’t mean it like that. I mean, I didn’t really think you did.”

“Good. ‘Cause I didn’t.”

“Thank you for apologizing,” Dream says, and George can’t help but shake his head at the sincerity of it. Trust Dream to thank him for doing the bare minimum.

“Of course I’m apologizing,” he counters matter-of-factly. “I was… mean.”

Dream bobs his head as if considering it. “A little. But you were tired, I could tell you were tired.”

George huffs. Trust Dream to make excuses for him even though he doesn’t deserve it.

“I do need you,” he says, because he feels a need to clarify this a thousand times over. To undo the damage he did last night. “Like you said, we need each other. And really, I think I probably need you a lot more than you need me.”

It might be one of the most terrifyingly honest things he has ever said out loud.

Dream shakes his head and opens his mouth to disagree, but George connects their lips before he can get a word out. It’s an effective strategy.

He pulls away first. “It’s true.”

“Okay,” Dream says, a little breathless. “I believe you.”

George nods once and starts to loosen his arms, but Dream keeps him in place with a hand on his lower back, pressing gently.

George blinks at him. “What?”

“I’ll believe it more if you kiss me again,” Dream says, his smile turning uncharacteristically shy.

George has never been happier to comply.

[theunbonded]

1

“Come home the best rider in your year, or don’t come home at all.”

His words echoed in the wind and rolled through the vast cavern below. The cold rain pelted against my still form, trying to grab onto my leathers. If my clothes hadn’t been tight against my skin, the damp material would have dragged me off the narrow stone slab they called the Parapet. 

The slick stone had already taken plenty of the hopeful-to-be riders to Malek. I was grateful for the years of training I had undergone to prepare me for this moment. My boots gripped the Parapet, and I didn't allow the rain's tenacious onslaught to break my composure. My core stayed engaged as I took my fifth, my sixth step onto the walkway, clearing the entrance and any hope of return. 

“Or don’t come home at all.”

Xaden Riorson’s dark eyes tracked my moments as I hastily made my way across the stone. My father may have retired from being a rider, but names hold weight, as evident from Riorson’s hesitation to write mine down. I had spotted his rebellion tattoo the minute I walked off the last step and entered the clearing. My father was right: the kids of the rebellion were truly here at the college. While they could not be blamed for their parent’s mistakes, my father had warned me to keep them at arms distance. Had taught me to beware them, for they would know my name. 

Riorson’s appraisal didn’t deter me in my mission. Like a wraith, I danced through the Parapet. The weather conditions couldn’t make me slip, and I quickly found the loose spots in the path and worked around them. 

Through the harshest winters and the peak of summer’s heat, I had walked my father’s version of the narrow stone slab until I could do it with my eyes closed. My feet had grown blisters, had grown frostbite, but I hadn’t been allowed inside until I had crossed the finish line. Until I had beaten my time from the previous day.

It had made my Conscription Day easy, even with the rain. There was no one keeping time for crossing the Parapet, but I knew I would have won. 

“Don’t come home.”

Hoards of riders assembled in the large clearing at the center of Basgiath. It was just like I remembered from long ago; large structures of stone jutted into the sky, daring enemies to try and infiltrate the war college. Only the most courageous got to see the inside of the Basgiath. Only the most dangerous would survive until graduation. 

The sorting of new cadets into sections took a long time. Although the death rate had been higher than normal due to the rain, there were still too many of us to deal with. I kept my face forwards, just like my father had taught me, with my shoulders straight and my chin up. But I let my eyes linger on the other first-years as they scrambled into formation, trying to discern who would last and who wouldn’t. 

“…into Flame section.”

I was embarrassed to find I had stopped paying attention to what the commandment had been saying. My section began moving, and I moved with them until we were in Fourth Wing, Flame Section. Confused on the move, yet trying my best to appear like I wasn’t, I did a quick assessment of the leadership.

The Fourth Wing wingleader was Riorson. His eyes were turned on our squad, but surprisingly weren’t on me.

The girl standing in front of me was a couple of inches smaller than myself, an accomplishment as I was already on the short side for a rider. Like me, she was in rider-black, like someone had been looking out to ensure she didn’t die on the Parapet today. Her mousy brown hair was tied into a braid and wrapped around her head, tiny silver strands sticking out. 

Violet Sorrengail. 

A grin tugged at my mouth. I wasn’t going to be the biggest target this year. If people disliked my father for the revolution, they hated her mother even more. 

“Home.”

Two hazel eyes clashed into mine. Curly, dark hair could be seen across the top of the crowd at the helm of Flame Section, sitting on the head of the tallest man I’ve ever seen. His attention stayed on me even as dragons landed on the walls surrounding Basgiath. My father had told me of this tradition, and I kept eye contact as other first-years screamed and ran around me.

Why was the Section Leader looking at me?

He cocked an eyebrow at me, an unspoken question. Why aren’t you scared?

I tilted my head at him, a challenge. Should I be?

Only when he turned around did I notice the rebellion tattoo swirling across his bicep. It was almost as large as Riorson’s, taking up the entirety of his visible arm.  

If I was right, I may have escaped Riorson’s scrutiny, but his right-hand man Garrick Tavis had found me.

And I was always right.

--

Hi everyone! Thank you for reading the first part of my Fourth Flame fanfic, The Unbonded! It's something I've been thinking about for a while and wanted to put on paper. Hope you enjoy.

Masterlist

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Alabama, where they serve women's rights sunny-side up :: Clay Jones :: @claytoonz

* * * *

The Alabama Supreme Court decision regarding frozen embryos continues to cause chaos, confusion, and fear.

The Alabama Supreme Court ruled this week that a frozen embryo held in storage outside the human body is a “human child” for purposes of a wrongful death statute. Although the opinion deals with a civil lawsuit (not a criminal prosecution), the reasoning could be applied to murder prosecutions by the Alabama Supreme Court. The possibility of civil liability for wrongful death or criminal liability for murder arising out of in vitro fertilization procedures caused the largest IVF facility in Alabama to cease the fertility procedures. See CNN, Days after Alabama’s Supreme Court ruling that frozen embryos are children, one facility pauses IVF treatment.

There are reasons to believe that the rationale in Burdick-Aysenne v. Center for Reproductive Medicine will not be applied to the criminal context, as explained by Ian Millhiser in Vox, The Alabama Supreme Court’s IVF opinion saying embryos are children, explained. Millhiser’s explication of the legal reasoning in Burdick is superb; if you want to dig deep into the legal history and context, Millhiser’s article is the place to start.

Millhiser explains that “Alabama’s criminal homicide law applies only to “an unborn child in utero.” Frozen embryos stored in cryogenic freezers are not “in utero.” Therefore, any reasonable observer would conclude that the handling of frozen embryos stored in cryogenic containers are not “human children in utero.”

The problem is that at least one member of the Alabama Supreme Court invoked religious dogma in setting forth his rationale for joining the majority opinion. Chief Justice Parker wrote a concurring opinion that included the following:

Man's creation in God's image is the basis of the general prohibition on the intentional taking of human life. See Genesis 9:6. [T]the doctrine of the sanctity of life is rooted in the Sixth Commandment: "You shall not murder." Exodus 20:13 Aquinas taught that "it is in no way lawful to slay the innocent" because "we ought to love the nature which God has made, and which is destroyed by slaying him." Calvin explained the reason for the Sixth Commandment this way: "Man is both the image of God and our flesh. Wherefore, if we would not violate the image of God, we must hold the person of man sacred." In summary, the theologically based view of the sanctity of life adopted by the People of Alabama encompasses the following: (1) God made every person in His image; (2) each person therefore has a value that far exceeds the ability of human beings to calculate; and (3) human life cannot be wrongfully destroyed without incurring the wrath of a holy God, who views the destruction of His image as an affront to Himself. [Alabama law] recognizes that this is true of unborn human life no less than it is of all other human life -- that even before birth, all human beings bear the image of God, and their lives cannot be destroyed without effacing his glory.

But the fact that at least one member of the Alabama Supreme Court (the Chief Justice) believes that religious dogma and faith can and should supersede civil law, no reasonable person in Alabama should take comfort in the notion that the criminal laws apply only to “an unborn child in utero.”  

Caution is especially warranted given that Chief Justice Parker recently appeared on the podcast of a QAnon conspiracy theorist and endorsed the so-called “Seven Mountains Mandate a theological approach that calls on Christians to impose fundamentalist values on all aspects of American life.” See Media Matters, Alabama Supreme Court chief justice spreads Christian nationalist rhetoric on QAnon conspiracy theorist's show.

In short, resorting to legal reasoning and precedent may provide little comfort when the Alabama Chief Justice looks not at the state law and constitution but to the Bible and the commentary of Thomas Aquinas and John Calvin when deciding a civil action for damages caused by the destruction of cryogenically frozen embryos.

Alabama’s Supreme Court has inflicted cruelty and anxiety on thousands of couples trying to conceive and tens of thousands of medical professionals assisting them. Joyce Vance lives in Alabama. She posted the following on Wednesday:

Just contemplating my life in a state where frozen embryos have more rights than I do . . . .

Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter

[villain-filled-writing]

The Love Squad~

Warning: suggestive/Slight NSFW

———

How long had the heroes been unconscious for? Two days.

Two days, five hours, fifty-seven minutes and ten seconds to be exact.

For two days five hours fifty-seven minutes and eleven seconds the Love Squad had remained unconscious and laying in separate beds inside the supervillains mansion.

It wasn’t until the sixth hour that they awoke from their peaceful slumbers and realized where they were.

“Ughhhh, not here. Anywhere but here.” Oldest hero mumbled as they sat up. “Did we get kidnapped?” Youngest hero asked nervously, “Yes, but it’s just Supervillain, so we have nothing to worry about…. Hopefully.” Hero says as she gets up from her bed and limps over to the bathroom. “If worse comes to worse, we give him Leader for a day! That’ll cheer him up.” She called from the bathroom, causing Leader to instantly perk up, “Wait what, why me?!” He asked quickly.

“You two were the ones making out back at base. That’s the whole reason we even fought him in the first place, remember? To prove to boss we could take down villains without falling in love with them?” Oldest Hero says as she attempts to stand up, “If he tries to kill us we’ll offer you up and let him do whatever he wants to you.” She says firmly, causing Leader to blush a bit at her words, “W-whatever he wants with me..?” He whispers.

“That sounds like a good deal to me, what do you think little birdie~?” A smooth voice called from the doorway. The new voice startled the heroes and they all quickly turned to see Supervillain leaning against the doorframe. “After all, instead of taking you all apart for attacking me, I think I’ll just take him apart instead~”

Upon hearing these words Leaders face and ears turned bright red. His mouth opened and closed as he struggled to find a response to Supervillains words, but of course he needn’t say more as Hero butted in, “Take him! He’s aaaaaall yours for today!” She calls happily. “W-w-wait! Hold on I d-didn’t say-“He was aware he was stumbling over his words quite a lot, but he couldn’t help it, It was a side effect of being around Supervillain for too long. Besides, right now he could care less how pathetic he seemed, he has more important matters at hand, like the fact that said master criminal was sauntering on over towards him, “Oh little birdie~, you don’t actually have a say in this one. After all, I need to speak with you in private.”

Although his voice was smooth as honey, his words were firm and commanding, giving Leader no room to protest before he was picked up bridal style by the master criminal and taken away to a different part of the mansion. “W-wait! Where are you taking me?” Leader asked quickly, “To my room, like I said, we have some thing we need to discuss privately,” The master criminal looked at Leader with a look of hunger in his eyes, “And after our conversation, maybe we can have a little fun~”

Leader stared at Supervillain with wide emerald eyes, “Fun….a-as in?” He asked nervously, watching as the villain carrying him smirked mischievously, “Fun as in I see how long it takes to hear you scream my name~”

It’s safe to say that Leader will not be returning to his team anytime soon.

[recurring-polynya]

I had been thinking about it as a WIP, and I completely forgot how many deleted scenes I had from a little in love, now and then, acts i-iii

To make up for it, here's two versions (because of I couldn't decide between them) of prime ByaHisa banter from back when I was trying to decide (by writing every possible permutation, apparently) how much of Renji Hisana had already gotten figured out, and also of how much Hisana should pull Byakuya into her confidence. I think the final version I settled on did the best job of moving the story along in the way I wanted, but these are awfully fun and I'm a little sorry I had to trash them.

🌸 💮 🪷

version 1

Hisana shot him a sly look back. “It’s very pleasant to have a handsome young man fall in love with you,” she retorted. “I seem to remember someone trying to convince me of that, when he suggested that I leave my home and vocation to come do…” she waved her hand dismissively, “whatever it is I do around here.”

“I was a duplicitous youth, as we both know.” Byakuya considered his adjutant, who seemed much more relaxed to be walking with Rukia than… well, than Byakuya had ever seen the man. “You know I find our Rukia to be a young lady of utmost warmth and grace, but what leads you to believe Abarai has been felled by her many charms?”

“I only invited him over because I was testing a hypothesis,” Hisana explained, slipping her arm through Byakuya’s fondly. “And the evidence seemed to support my theory.”

“You’ve only met him a handful of times yourself,” Byakuya frowned. “What made you suspect an attachment? Do I need to give him a lecture on proper comportment during business hours?”

“Oh, no, he comports himself with perfect Sixth Division propriety, although it always cheers you up to deliver a good solid lecture on office etiquette.” Hisana paused to admire a particularly blue hydrangea. “I became very curious, you see, after you told me he agreed to that hare-brained scheme of yours to disrupt Rukia’s execution. A young man a mere month into his post as vice-captain would only have two reasons to do so, in my thinking, and I wished to know which it was.”

“Duty? Loyalty? Admiration of his wise and respected commanding officer? Is it not obvious?”

Hisana raised one well-sculpted eyebrow. “That was possibility number one. And, your incredible modesty aside, it seemed the most likely. I seem to recall you telling me he had seemed very… eager in his job application.”

“Vice-Captaincy of the Sixth is traditionally inherited. It was a rare opportunity that the position happened to be publicly advertised. Can I fault him for being rational? Not that I have seen any evidence of it, since.”

“Ahh, so you must have had a large number of fully completed applications dropped on your desk the very hour you announced the opening?”

“As you said, he clearly has great admiration and respect for myself, an open and shut case,” Byakuya replied grumpily. “What has this to do with your sister?”

“Possibility number two! His cooperation had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with the object of the rescue!”

“What makes you think they had any previous dealings with one another?” Byakuya asked. Of course, he knew about their previous dealings, Abarai had told him. He just wasn’t sure if Hisana knew about their previous dealings.

Hisana gave a disinterested half-shrug. “You had him watching over her while she was in lockdown, no? Picture it-- my poor sister, alone, despondent. A tragic waif!”

Byakuya regarded his wife with half-lidded eyes. “‘Despondent’ is a bit strong. My understanding is that when she wasn’t trying to gnaw through the bars, she verbally harassed him extensively.”

Hisana fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Who could possibly fall in love with a woman under such circumstances, eh?”

Byakuya smoothed the front of his kimono. “Only a great fool, clearly.”

“Precisely,” Hisana grinned back. “So, here is a man either greatly devoted to my darling husband, or infatuated with my precious sister. Either way, it was in my best interest to find out.”

“And you have determined it is the second?” Byakuya asked. “A shame. I shall fire him immediately.”

“I have determined…” Hisana corrected, “it is both. And you shall do nothing of the sort. He is clearly a man after my own heart, a kindred spirit.”

“You seem to have left one small item out of your assessment, my dear.”

“And what would that be?”

“What if she does not return the attachment? Perhaps jail is not nearly as romantic a time as you imagine, and she has hardly had time to form an opinion.”

Hisana rolled her eyes. “The jail bit was a lie. Goodness, Byakuya, don’t you even read the service records of the people you hire? He’s from Inuzuri, as if every word out of his mouth weren’t a dead giveaway, and he entered the Academy the same year Rukia did. At the very least they would have run into each other at the Shinigami Recruitment Station, but I would bet anything that if they weren’t childhood friends, they were childhood enemies, which is even better.” She narrowed her eyes grimly and gave a terse nod. “She knows him well enough, and if she hated him, she would have told me. Rukia has never hesitated for a moment to tell me about things she dislikes.”

“How did you get ahold of his service record?” Byakuya asked, horrified.

Hisana skidded to a halt, impressive, given the glacial pace at which they had been processing. She clutched at Byakuya’s sleeve. “Oh! Oh!” she gasped. Up ahead, on the bridge, Renji had his head tipped down toward Rukia’s. It only lasted a moment, and then he knelt down beside Touma, talking solemnly to the small boy, and pointing down at the water.

“Did you see that?” she whispered breathlessly.

“See what? That was nothing.” Byakuya squinted at the pair of young people and then back at his wife. “You are delusional.”

“My scheme is working perfectly,” Hisana announced grandly as Touma nearly tossed himself off the bridge, and Renji caught him neatly by the back of the hakama.

Byakuya had been married to Hisana for close to 50 years. This was not the first time he had heard these words. “As you say, dear,” he agreed. 

version 2

“I was surprised,” Hisana began loftily, “when you told me you had hired someone from the Eleventh.”

“I told you,” Byakuya interrupted, “his skills and test scores were superlative--”

Hisana waved a hand dismissively. “Not that part. Nothing you do is surprising. No the question is, why would someone from the Eleventh want to work for you?”

Byakuya made a hurt face. Hisana did not appear to notice. “So I asked around a bit, and it turns out he came from the Fifth. Who does that? People rarely transfer in and out of the Eleventh at all-- either you enter the Gotei through the Eleventh, or you avoid it like the plague, apparently.”

“Who have you been talking to?” Byakuya asked, perplexed.

“I assumed he was from Rukongai, for obvious reasons,” Hisana went on, “and I could tell he was from the deep south the moment he opened his mouth. And that made sense, I could see that. Comes to the big city, does well enough in school to get into a fancy pants squad, gets disillusioned, joins the brute squad. But if so, why set his sights on the Sixth, the fanciest pants of squads?”

Byakuya glared at his wife. He had specifically asked her not to refer to his unit as the “fanciest pants of squads” before. His glare did not seem to be as withering as he had hoped.

“No, the Eleventh was the outlier,” Hisana moved on. “I think he was there to brood.”

“You are ridiculous. No one joins the Eleventh for dramatic purposes.”

“You, Kuchiki Byakuya, threatened to join the Eleventh if your Grandfather wouldn’t let you marry me!”

“It was an idle threat and also, I told you to never speak of that. Also, you have truly spent more time thinking about this man than I ever have, and I spend most of my day in the same room as him.”

“He’s your second! You think I don’t care about the man who watches my husband’s back?”

“I think you find Gotei business to be exceedingly dull and this is most out of character for you.”

“All right, I got interested in him after both you and Rukia neglected to mention that he carried her around half the city and I had to hear it from someone else.”

[hornet-best-bug]

Could you tell us more about your oc onto which you doodled horns? (Btw, full permission to infodump everything you want about them)

OH MY GOD NO-ONE REALLY ASKS ME TO INFODUMP OTHER THAN ONE PERSON ON HERE AND MY PARTNER. HOLD ON ESSAY INCOMING

Her name is Revive V Regor, and the idea was based off of Pavooko's Void angel idea. (Its warframe related. I fucking love warframe.) The idea was in simple terms "what if, in this AU of warframe, she broke her deal with the man in the wall, and he in retaliation removed her memories of everything and sent her onto the Zarimen derelict, while also leaving her vunerable to the lure of the angels song"

Most of that AU isn't cannon to her true character, and i only have the premise of that AU drafted as a short story you can find on my blog somewhere 😅 so i'll ramble about her cannon self in an alternate AU me and my partner work on together.

Revive was an experiment of Tyl Regor and Alad V ( the community calls Alad "Salad V" a lot, which i think is funny) in an attempt to see whether combining corpus genetics and grineer genetics would stop clone rot. (Clone rot is where grineer clone slowly deteriorate, it's a mutation in the genetics that causes their bodies to essentially "rot" killing them. Hence the name "Clone rot" it formed from years of cloning clones of clones, so on so forth)

Revive was only created successfully on the fith and final attempt, as Alad didn't really fully understand how the cloning process worked. Alad at the time was also recovering from his infestation (cannonially we, the tenno helped him, however for the sake of this au and the fact that we ship Alad and Tyl, Tyl is the one who helps Alad) so Revive does have some dormant infestated genetics, which was what was hoped to stop the clone rot.

Revive went through most of her childhood with her two crazy dads, though she didn't see Alad too much. Revive lived in the grineer Sea Labs a majority of the time, sometimes staying at Alads if Tyl needed her out of the way for a bit.

Revive as a kid was one of those "gifted kids" but she wasn't from the start ever using it for things people would deem "good" rather, she found an innate attraction towards weaponry, particularly explosives. Younger Revive having been so obsessed with grenades and bombs, was given a bomb plushie for her sixth birthday.

At 6, while she was logic smart, she still had a very creative side, often doodling plans for a gun she wanted to make, which ended up being the MK-1 of Firecracker. She liked to play games where she was the bad guy terrorising a city, when she met the man in the wall. He'd taken an interest in her potential for havoc, and so, after introducing himself and making her think he was some "imaginary friend" he made a deal with her. Now keeping in mind she'd around 6-8 at this time. Logic is escaping her because she thinks this is all part of the little roleplay.

The deal was of immorality to everything minus clone-rot as that's her achilies heel, although, wally (wally = the man in the wall) himself is another weakness as she ended up owing him her soul.

At 9 years old, with careful supervision and very limited resources to keep her safe, was allowed to make the MK-1 of Firecracker, her custom grenade launcher that packs quite a punch while sending out live grenades.

After that deal, she continued to play with him, and eventually, once she hit her teenage years, stopped seeing him, and frankly, isn't able to recall much of her childhood.

She, at around 13-16, started making a new, improved version of Firecracker, commandeering corpus weaponry that Alad gave her when she asked to study their reactors. She took apart a reactor she thought would work until she could do the maths for the correct formula for the custom reactor, and managed to make a semi-decent version of her gun. Though she wasn't fully satisfied, with the limited resources she was allowed, it was a decent start and a huge upgrade from the one she made at 9.

Through these years, Tyl and Alad would often have debates on where Revive should live. Should she remain in grineer territory, which at this point is all she knows, or should Alad take her to Corpus territory in hopes of giving her a life that Tyl knows he can't give.

They eventually came to an agreement of alternating where Revive stays. Two weeks at the labs and two weeks at Alads, rinse and repeat.

Revive has so many siblings, but the ones that have names are Kahl-175 (He is a cannon character you meet him in the new war and get to pkay as him in his own quest called Veilbreaker) Virmek and Gant. Gant is the youngest of the trio, and is very attatched to his technically little sister Revive. However, Gant is a manic, so he is tiny and childish, hence revive considers him a little brother instead.

At 14 Revive found herself developing clone rot, and started to conceal it from Tyl and Alad, though it eventually in her adult hood is discovered after tyl finds her bleeding through a very bad bandaging job.

She eventually gets a job in corupus territory, though she dislikes her boss, who is a total dick. She doesn't really get paid much despite her work demanding a higher wage. She doesn't work in finance. She works in weaponry as an explosives expert. Her salary is high, but corpus like to hoard their money, and i doubt they ever pay their employees fairly. (Just like the real world, am i right)

During this whole fiasco of working, she makes some friends with a group of Solaris. Jack, Tiffany, Scott. Revive has nicknames for the three

Jack = Jacky Wacky

Tiffany= Tiffy

Scott =Scottie

Revive ends up agreeing to help the Solaris with their issues, though dislikes working alongside the Tenno.

So not only is Revive working a full time job, she's being a babysitter for her brothers, helping out solaris United, dealing with the man in the wall who randomly pops back into existence one day, and is also dealing with a lot of insanity in her mind that she's constantly pushing back.

A note about her hair is that as a child it was completely light brown hair, however as she got older and did a ton of dangerous things she *should* have died from, white streaks would form in her hair. At the age of 23, her hair turned completely white, which was when Wally popped back into existence.

Most of this is completed lore, and thats about it at the moment because everything is still a work in progress 😅

[historyhermann]

Cleopatra in Space and the Missing "Quarantine" Episode [Part 1]

On July 15, 2020, the streaming service, Peacock, made 12 episodes of ​​Cleopatra in Space, an animated show, available to all U.S. residents, after making five episodes available to Xfinity subscribers a few months before. Whether by error, laziness, or purposeful action, the show's sixth episode was not listed, meaning that only episodes 1-5 and 7-13 were available to anyone who subscribed to Peacock Premium. Mike Maihack, creator of the graphic novel series which this animated series was based on, lamented this development. He described the "missing" episode as focusing on a "zombie-like flu," with Cleo having to face the consequences of avoiding quarantine, and said it is an episode that the "entire world should be able to see right now." He also called the release of only 12 episodes "disappointing," referring to the fact that 26 episodes were part of the show's first season, many of which premiered on the Dreamworks channel, available to subscribers in Southeast Asia. A fan of the show later asked Peacock about this episode and they described it as "temporarily unavailable" and said that there is no news on the release "at the moment." As of the time of this article's publication, the episode has still not been added to Peacock, with an official Peacock account explaining that the episode was "not actively" on the platform, but not explaining why this was the case. This article will summarize the "missing" episode, reportedly with the name "Quarantine," as listed on the website of Rotten Tomatoes, [1] and note how it relates to the COVID-19 pandemic.

This was originally written in October 2020, but never published for some reason. It was since named and fixed up in December 2022, so some of the information in it may be outdated. It will be published on my History Hermann WordPress blog on Feb. 23, 2022. The episode was finally released on Peacock on June 25, 2021.

This episode is not the first time that a show has focused on a quarantine. The Simpsons Movie in 2007 was about the town of Springfield trapped under a glass dome by a power-hungry EPA administrator. Some have argued noted other Simpsons episodes, like one where the "Osaka Flu" spread across Springfield, although such a comparison is faulty due to the unscientific way that the flu spread across the town itself. On the other hand, the August 2011 episode of Futurama, "Cold Warriors," had the arrogant space commander, Zapp Brannigan, attempt to bring the quarantined city of New New York into the Sun after the common cold virus accidentally spread across the city from Fry to the rest of those in the city. Luckily, the cold is controlled once everyone receives a vaccine, the quarantine is lifted, and the city returned to its rightful location. In a similar vein, Edgar Allan Poe, in his short story "The Masque of the Red Death," focuses on a prince who gathers his rich friends within a castle while a plague known as the "Red Death" spreads across the country, killing all who are exposed. Ultimately, they are exposed to the virus and end up dying as a result, showing no one is safe from the disease.

Cleo and the zombie flu

This episode is different from the previously mentioned examples. Cleopatra "Cleo," (voiced by Lilimar Herandez) is adjusting herself to the future, almost getting killed by a robot assassin, a robotic monster, nearly captured by scavengers, and liberating a planet from the control of the Xerxs, the footsoldiers of the tyrannical Octavian, in previous episodes. She begins the episode by going on her first solo mission to retrieve a book from a planet named Buflong whose inhabitants look like butterflies and "speak a musical language," boasting she can deal with a "bunch of butterflies." She figures out how to deal with the burping butterflies, first zapping them with her quaser (a type of laser pistol), throwing her bracelets to the creatures, and speaking a burp language with the queen butterfly creature.

Cleo returns to Mayet confidently and when her mentor, Khensu (voiced by Sendhil Ramamurthy), tells her to quarantine because of a flu outbreak on the planet she came from. In her typical style, she decides to not take him seriously, declaring she has no idea what quarantine is, and says she is fine because she "doesn't even have a sniffle." She touches as many people as she can when she arrives at Pyramid, an academy which is a cross-between a college and high school, with no social distancing whatsoever. Although she thinks that everything will be "totally fine," the next day she sees all the students at the campus sick with the zombie flu. She does not understand how she got everyone sick, with Khensu informing her she is a carrier of the flu. She is shocked by how the sickness is developing among her classmates, such as temporary tentacle growth (in the case of Zaid), hallucinations (in the case of Brian), and projectile crying (in the case of Akila). Khensu tells her that the flu "affects every species differently" in the first stage of the virus. Although cats only have a mild cold, the second stage is the same for everyone: "extreme aggression." Basically, everyone turns into "rage zombies" who are prone to fight others. Yikes!

Cleo defends her actions, saying that she doesn't know "weird future stuff" and shows she has no knowledge of quarantine, guessing it is a mineral, a dance, or "some kind of pastry."

Khensu and Cleo leave in the nick of time, as they have to find a cure before everyone in the academy dies from the flu, killing each other in their uncontrollable rage. They travel to an uninhabited ice planet to meet Dr. Queed (voiced by Paul Rugg), former head of biosciences for P.Y.R.A.M.I.D., who was forced out because of his eccentric nature. While Khensu and Cleo are sparring, their ship crash-lands on the planet, and they barely escape being killed by lightning which strikes anything above 20 feet. Thanks to Cleo's quick thinking, charging her quaser with the lightning's energy, as soon as the virus fully takes hold of Khensu, making him a "rage zombie," the giant ice spider, which blocks their way, is killed by a blast from the quaser. Afterward, Cleo and Khensu enter Dr. Queed's lab, and learn the unsettling news that the monster Cleo killed was one of his creations! As Cleo pleads with him to help those at the academy, he remains skeptical of offering his "uncanny scientific brilliance." Using his over-confidence, hubris, and ego against him, Cleo manipulates Queed into helping them, as Queed claims he can cure "any sickness." Khensu, overtaken by the flu, almost kills Queed, until he sticks the untested vaccine into his arm, which ends up being successful. Later, Cleo goads Queed, saying he can't cure everyone, leading him to declare he will prove his scientific abilities by making a big batch of vaccines.

On their return to Mayet, Queed, Cleo, and Khensu wear special helmets equipped to shoot vaccine darts at people. When they return to the academy, it has turned into utter mayhem, with each of them spreading out to cover more ground, firing darts filled with the vaccine at every student they can find. In the end, Brian is the only holdout, remaining infected because the darts can't penetrate his cyborg body. Cleo has to activate her super pink power and is trapped by Brian, allowing her to suck out the power from Brian's body. With everything returning to normal, Cleo says the spread of the illness is all her fault, a conclusion which is mostly correct. Khensu admits that he shouldn't have assumed she knew of the "importance of quarantine." Ironically, she later enters quarantine after showing symptoms of a presumed common cold. In the last scene of the episode, she remarks, "quarantine stinks!" a sentiment a lot of us would agree with at this point in time, and asks for a charger.

Cleo declares that "quarantine stinks!"

Continued in part 2

© 2020-2023 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

Notes

[1] This episode seems to be named "The Flu," when the Korean title of the episode, when it aired on the DreamWorks channel on December 2, 2019, was translated. It also aired on Teletoon+ in Poland on February 24 of this year, and on ABC Me, an Australian broadcasting service, this summer.

[rizzrack]

Rizzrack kept his eyes averted, vision solely focused on following cable from hand to hand, and end to port. His eyes returned to the next cable, handed over, and then-

He flinched as if shocked from the touch he felt at his foot. He instinctively pulled his foot away, or, he would have if the grip were not so tight. Rizzrack looked down to see the large hand dug into his small boot. He was frozen stiff, left hand outstretched with the last cable that Asch had to tug from his absent-minded grip. The small-keen who was deliberately trying to avoid acknowledgment of the Silencer was now unexpectedly caught trying to process what he was looking at.

As his mind continued to float in the space between disconnect and grasping reality, his body once again gave in to reflex, commanding his foot to shake away the trash stuck to it. Nortrom’s fingers gripped even tighter, and this was enough to finally ground Rizzrack.

He stared down wide-eyed and remembered. He remembered running, hiding… racing… crawling his way into a small crevice with only room for one, pulling away with all of his might from the tight grip on his boot that would not let go. With his spare foot he had kicked at it frantically until freed from its grasp. He was sure the vines had nearly gotten him….

Rizzrack was moments away from violently tearing his foot away and stomping on the hand, but it was lucky that Asch took care of it himself. Although he was now visibly tense, the other two keen were oblivious (or perhaps content to ignore this) as they continued to focus on their work.

“Did you catch that, Rizzrack?”

He did not. He only turned his head to look at Milgram with a vacant stare.

The keen raised his eyebrows and gave a nod towards the remaining cables. “Hand Asch cable two, then four.”

Rizzrack stood motionless for a few seconds, afflicted by a sudden case of amnesia. “Right. Yeah, sure.” Back on track, he retrieves the two cables and hands them to Asch as needed, this time being only close enough to hand them over.

“Now finally, five.”

Rizzrack grabbed the last cable, wondering why there wasn’t a sixth one. It was thicker than the previous ones, so perhaps the two were combined into one at some point. Moving it required two hands to bring it over to Asch.

“Just you keep supporting that while I get it connected here.” The other said while taking the end of it and proceeding to hook it up to the port. It required a little more time to attach thanks to its size.

“Alrighty now… Where’s that last one?” Last one?

“Rizzrack there should be one last cable in there. It’s not attached to anything, you might have to reach in there to grab it.”

So there is a sixth. Rizzrack stepped back over to the tube, and looking inside, there was what looked to be a couple coiled up together. Upon pulling them out, he saw six terminals on each end and they were bound together across the middle.

“Yep, that’s the one. We can make this quick if you help me out here. Just clip them onto the studs, one to one, two to two, you know the deal. I’ll take care of this end.”

Great.

Rizzrack came over with the cable, handing one end of it to Asch who began to attach the individual wires to the base of each port on Nortrom’s back. It was a very sort cable, its length just a little more than enough to cover the distance between the top of Nortrom’s head and his back. At first he tried to simply bend over to work, but it just wasn’t feasible. He would need to be closer to read the etched numbers on the crown. Reluctantly he knelt down on a knee and began to attach the terminals.

rizzrack​:

nortromthesilencer​:

rizzrack​:

nortromthesilencer​:

Forcing himself up to a more sitting like position, he continued to strain. Ever so carefully, he managed to slide a leg down an off the platform, then the other.. and the moment any weight was put on either he yelped and unceremoniously crumpled to the ground. Oh boy that hurt. Not just the trying to walk, but the fall as well, further reminding him of the pain he felt just moments ago and that earlier in the day. 

His breaths were shaky, appearance haggard with his hair having swapped places, being bald on top but a beard starting to form, and skin just a bit paler than it should be. Nortrom once more forced himself to move, this time to kneel, arms supporting his front and wobbling, likely to give out at any time. He couldn’t do it, there was just no way he was going to be able to walk like this.

An irritable mood made its attempt to overcome Rizzrack. He couldn’t shake the sense that they could come back at such an inconvenient time. He also knew he couldn’t make Nortrom move any faster, and that itself bothered him in another way, his struggles clear evidence of the strain and pain their ‘procedures’ put him through.

Irritation gained its victory over Rizzrack as he heard the faint echoes of steps beyond the door. Just perfect. “Great. Here they come.”

The sound of steps stop right outside the door. There is silence, as if they were attempting to listen and gauge the outcome of the test before opening the door. After a minute, there was a faint sound of keys jingling, hinting that someone decisively made the call to enter. The door unlocked, and Milgram cautiously peeked in.

The two made eye-contact, and Milgram masked his surprise with a smile. “Ah, I knew you could handle it, Rizzrack!” A subtle cough was heard behind him as the rounded keen stepped in. “I see the installation was a success!” Stepping closer, his smile became somewhat lopsided as he turned his attention towards Nortrom. “I take it there wasn’t any trouble?” Getting close enough to Rizzrack, he surveyed the small-keen for… there it is. “There was no need to use the safety measures?” Milgram plucked the remote from Rizzrack’s person. “Very good! After all, it’s better to ensure our core doesn’t endure any unnecessary stress.”

Asch had followed in, but he was the only other one to come in. It seemed that Zimbard was once again busy with other matters. Well aware of what still needed to be done, and confident there was little risk to being wiped from existence if Rizzrack was still breathing, he made his way up to the trembling man on the ground.

“Highly doubt that this’ll pull itself together. C'mon and give me a hand Rizzrack.” Asch asked, fully knowing that Milgram won’t lift a finger to exert himself. Nortrom’s weak state made it easy for the keen to simply press him flat to the floor with a push of the hand.

Realizing it really was going to be like that, Rizzrack huffed and hurried over. Being a smaller keen, Rizzrack could only struggle to drag Nortrom along by the wrist, while Asch, being not only larger but also a little more fit, did most of the work dragging on the other arm.

Milgram meanwhile followed along, every once in a while reminding them to be careful not to dislocate anything, until they fully dragged Nortrom along into the other room and finally left him on the ground near the large glass tube.

Nortrom heard nothing of the keys jingling, his attention preoccupied by the ringing in his ears from the sudden bout of orthostatic-hypotension from both getting up after lying down for so long and falling down suddenly. The voice of Milgram was noted though, and immediately the Silencer stopped any attempts to  move and gave a half sigh, half growl of displeasure.

Oddly, if it were just RIzzrack he was more likely to comply or feel he just wanted to get things over with. But now that the others were here, Nortrom’s instinct was to be as uncooperative as he could. In this case, that meant merely not assisting or putting in any effort himself: he had no strength to actively fight back or deter the Keen’s plans.

This thought carried over when Asch approached, but since the idea was to merely drag the Silencer along his lack of assistance didn’t matter. Hell, it only took a slight shove from the sturdy mechanic to floor Nortrom, chest hitting the ground with a soft thud and yet another pained groan that may as well be his native language at this point. He even cracked out a sharp hiss as the two Keen pulled at him, muscles protesting and the newly fitted machine pinching painfully into his flesh. 

Once there and dropped, the man made no effort to move from where he ended up. Asch, still not wanting to take extra chances (and also seeing this as an entertaining reverse face of authority given this used to be his boss after all) knelt down and pinned one of Nortrom’s arms under knee.

“Righty-o, if this thing’s lined up straight then the rest should plug into the body where we want.” Asch’s tone was both matter-of-fact but also carried with it a slight doubt that the job had been done correctly. A slight taste of bitterness still lingered about the whole saw-suit project. “Well, you’ve got the numbers- make yourself useful and read ‘em out.” He goaded Milgram who of course didn’t help them move a valuable and fragile part that was double any of their heights.

Milgram huffed out a laugh, waving away the crude comment while pushing up his reading glasses. Taking out a small booklet, his larger fingers looked comical leafing through it’s slender pages; sausages used in place of more precise kitchen utensils. 

“Rizzrack, if you could, please pull the large handle at the back of the tube, just above where it’s mounted. That will open it. Afterwards, hand Asch the correctly numbered cables from inside as I read them out.” 

Rizzrack stared off to the side, having given in to his thoughts during all this. Physical, mindless tasks had a tendency to do that, give him the space to dwell on rememberings he’d rather not think about.

“Huh? ‘Kay.” Hearing his name snapped him out of it just in time to hear the given directions and reply with short-breathed responses. He approached the tube, identified said handle and giving it a pull, a dome was lifted, opening up the tube so that its containment could be worked with.

“Now, gather up cables one, three, and seven.”

“… You don’t want five?”

“Not yet, Rizzrack. Five will be in the way of the later cables if we attach it now”

“And once these are in, they’re difficult to disconnect.” Asch added as he held out an arm, hand opening and clenching as he expected the cables to be in his palms by now. “Cable one, if you will.”

Rizzrack looked down at the cables in his hand. They were thick and each shielded within a flexible conduit. Ensuring that the correct one was identified, he brought it to within Asch’s reach, who also double checked its number before jamming it into the appropriate port. Seeing a reaction from Nortrom, Rizzrack wondered if the assembly itself was still sensitive or if plugging the cables in required more piercing. Now for cable three. Finally, cable seven.

Asch may not have been very tall, but Keen were stocky folk and his weight resting on the arm meant Nortrom very quickly lost feeling to the limb; Though in the grand scheme of things, that wasn’t the most pressing matter or even one of the top three. No, the apparatus ports being pressed into very much topped that list, given the fact that the cable connectors reacted to the pressure of entry were then ejecting more sharp points into the Silencer’s flesh, each aligned and set for the perfect depth to reach the needed internal target. Cable one, a yelp and grit teeth, still huffing the last remnants of mucus from his breakdown and choking it back with a cough. Cable three, and his hand reached for whatever it could grip; Not to pull away but to merely have something to clutch in pain. This ended up being Rizzrack’s shoe, nails digging into the leather as the man croaked back any other sounds. Cable seven, the hand flexed and regrasped, the man flinched and his panting grew. Asch, noticing the outstretched arm and hand at Rizzrack’s foot, got up from where he knelt and pulled Nortrom’s arms above his head, now opting to kneel on them both to keep him from trying to disrupt their procedure. Milgram didn’t much care, so long as everything continued as it should. “Stay still, would ya?” Asch condescendingly chided the Silencer as he set the gaskets and screwed the cable seals in place on top of each. “Ai’ght, what’s next?” The only reaction Nortrom could give was a stunted groan, front of the crown holding his head up slightly from the floor where he shoved himself facedown. “Two, then four.”

[apparitionism]

Decalogue 2

This is a belated continuation of my Bering-and-Wells tenth-anniversary piece: a listing of “commandments,” one issued by each year of their association. I did the first five years in part 1. The ensuing years are of course both easier (I get to make up what happened!) and harder (oh lord, I have to make up what happened...). So this second five years’ worth of commandments—this second pentalogue?—will probably be both worse and better than the first. As always, I’m in it for the talking, but also for the idea that Myka and Helena would get things right, and wrong, and right again. I testify regularly that it’s hard work to sustain a long-term relationship. You have to want to do that work, and it isn’t always pleasant. But I’m absolutely certain that B&W would power through. Anyway I meant to do the ensuing five years as a single part, but I decided instead to fake myself into thinking I’m accomplishing things if I do them one or two at a time. I’m taking wins where I can find them right now.

Decalogue 2

Year six: Thou shalt not damage.

This commandment, which Myka would have been overjoyed to be able to keep in its absolute form, worked out in practice to something more like “You’re going to do some damage. Fix it as best you can.”

Distinguishing between where it was and was not safe to step was one of Myka’s most confounding challenges. So many years ago, at the start, the literal gunpointings had made the hazards very clear, but now, instead, Myka encountered metaphorical landmines, buried in places stranger than she had expected: she knew to step around guns and guilt; she knew not to mention Christina, unless Helena was in a mood to think about her. But how was Myka supposed to have anticipated that on any given day, a particular word would be a sensitive plate?

She had been complaining, expressing general resentment on the topic of her parents and Tracy and the grandchild. She concluded with, “And that’s my family for you.”

“They are your family,” Helena said, a flat statement that Myka could not parse. Then she stopped talking to Myka. Entirely.

Myka tried to ask, tried to find out what was the matter; then she tried just talking to Helena, pretending nothing was wrong, hoping it was some sort of circuit-breaker problem and that acting normal would throw the switch; then she offered a general apology for everything she might ever have done wrong; but in the end she had to give up. Helena with an idea in her head—whatever the idea was—couldn’t be reasoned with.

They slept in the same bed. No words. No contact either, but that was because Myka avoided it. She could deal, for a while, with being verbally ignored, but she didn’t think she could handle even one instance of Helena coldly refusing to escalate touch into intimacy.

Claudia couldn’t save them this time. Not that she didn’t try: “Talk to Myka!” she bellowed at Helena, but no talking ensued. “I guess you gotta keep trying,” she told Myka with a shrug. “Send her flowers?”

Well, flowers never hurt anything, did they? So Myka had an arrangement of peonies delivered to the B&B, because Helena had once been very “these belong in an English garden” about peonies, softer than Myka would ever have expected her to be.

Helena read the card—and Myka had to admit that the “I love you” message wasn’t very creatively written, even in terms of penmanship, but she was running on desperate fumes at that point—then very pointedly placed it and the peonies into the kitchen trash can.

So Myka’s best version of tenderness was in the garbage... clearly tenderness was not sufficient to fix anything. It was necessary, she was fairly sure, but not sufficient.

After much additional analytical thought, she developed a hypothesis. “I think I get it. Your family’s gone,” she offered to Helena, who barely twitched in response. But she did twitch, so maybe Myka had got it right? She continued, “And I’m being insufficiently grateful that mine isn’t.”

No response other than a very loud absence of anything resembling a twitch.

Back to the analytical drawing board... at which Myka now drew nothing but a blank.

It took an entire week for Helena to budge at all, but: prompted perhaps by Myka rescuing one of the peonies from the trash and putting it in a vase on the nightstand on Helena’s side of the bed, or maybe by Pete endlessly complaining “I hate when Mom and Mom fight,” or alternatively by Steve handing her cup after cup of tea and noting (just as endlessly) that it was “to soothe your laryngitis,” or possibly by the phase of the moon or a conspicuous mote of dust or something else that even Helena herself probably couldn’t or wouldn’t ever articulate, she interrupted Myka’s weeklong insomniac ceiling-staring session at two in the morning by pushing at her shoulder, hard, and saying, “I thought you might be moved to describe me as your family. But I see I have not been promoted to that exalted level.”

Helena was vocally doing “stoic” and “offhand,” insofar as anyone could really pull off either of those after a week of administering the silent treatment. Which meant that she wasn’t pulling them off at all, which in turn meant that Myka could hear the wound: a fault line sending a bleak rumble through the substrate of that voice in the dark.

“Exalted,” Myka said, herself trying to pull off “no, I never really thought you’d refuse to speak to me for the rest of our lives.” She was also trying to hide her embarrassment at being so analytically obtuse, as well as her shame at having inflicted pain in the first place. “Do you want me to not get along with you, too? Complain about you all the time?”

“You do complain about me all the time,” Helena pointed out, and Myka had to concede, at least internally, that that was probably more than a little bit true. She had to concede, too, that she had not in any way put Helena in her mental dictionary to illustrate the word “family.” The pictures of an endlessly troubling group of people from whom she could not really escape, about whom she complained all the time, had seemed to be a permanently closed set. Any additions, she had thought, would be similes: Pete was like a brother (and thank god that was once again true), Claudia like a sister (though a different sort than the one Myka actually had).

She should have known that Helena’s role in her life was literal, not figurative. And she should have known that Helena, in all her literal intensity, would have expected words to be applied.

Family. She complained about Helena all the time; Helena was endlessly troubling; and Myka certainly could not escape from her, as five-years-unto-six had shown. But the difference was that she didn’t want to escape Helena... apparently she’d mistaken that for a disqualifying factor, family-wise.

“You have sequestered me from those who are so exalted,” Helena said then. “Ideationally, but physically as well.”

“In my defense,” Myka began, but she faltered. “I know it isn’t much of one. But you haven’t been here for very long. I mean... you were, but then you weren’t. Physically. Since you brought that up. And we’ve been together for real for less than a year.”

Silence again, but this time it was an audible challenge.

“So I guess I’m taking you to Colorado Springs pretty soon to show you off.”

Myka realized, while she was searching for reasonably priced plane tickets for the trip, that this was the first time she’d hurt Helena in a way in which she might have been similarly likely to hurt anyone. She’d been so busy working on not making Helena-centric mistakes, those to do with guns and guilt and grief, that she hadn’t thought much at all about this relationship in a broader sense. It was singular, yes (obviously yes), but it was also two people in love with each other, trying to live with each other. Buying “meet the parents” plane tickets forced her to confront how pedestrian they were, as people in love with each other. It was both a minor disappointment and an enormous relief.

Arriving at her childhood home with Helena in tow was even more surreal than she’d imagined... despite the fact that she’d imagined it out, scenario after scenario.

It was also even more awkward than she’d imagined. “Mom, Dad,” she began, as her parents and Helena did nothing but look at each other, wary, as if a hostage exchange were about to occur, “I told you about Helena.” No one said anything. Yes, awkward. She had indeed told them, but that been... what it had been. Myka still wasn’t sure how to think about what it had been.

She’d called them, determined to tell it all—well, not all—but before she’d finished clearing her throat in preparation for launching into her prepared remarks, she was subjected to the usual enthusiastic recounting of grandchild activities. That was fine, though, for she did take a little schadenfreudic satisfaction in how quickly grandchild-centric material had replaced Tracy-centric information in these bulletins.

“I have a little news,” she said as the child-related hosannas began at last to run out of steam.

She took a breath. “I’minaseriousrelationship.”

One more breath. “WithsomeonefromworkhernameisHelena.”

After a pause, but not much of one, her father said, “How do you want us to respond?”

Myka had braced herself for questions, certainly, but not that one. “By being happy for me?” she offered, and she wished she had sounded decisive.

“Then we’re happy for you,” her mother said, and when had her mother ever sounded that decisive?

Myka could easily imagine them at the kitchen table, both leaning toward the phone that her father would have propped against the lazy Susan, for he’d always seemed to believe that placing a phone flat on its back rendered it helpless, like a turtle. That picture was very clear, very familiar. But she could not envision how those two people, addressing that upright phone, would look if they were happy for her. “Just like that?” she asked, because her inability to see it suggested that she shouldn’t believe it.

“If that’s what you want,” said her father.

Had he come up with that on his own? Had her mother kicked him under the table? Who were these people? Myka groped for words to address this strange moment in which she wanted to believe what her parents were saying. All she could come up with was a slow, “It... is.”

You were promised endless wonder, she reminded herself, and you do seem to be in the bonus lately. She’d heard Pete say “in the bonus” about something sports-related, and even though she hadn’t bothered to find out what the phrase really meant, it felt solidly descriptive of the way the past couple of years had been resolving.

Speaking of wonder, though, she did wonder, in the moment, whether what she had really wanted was to have to argue passionately for her reasons and right to be with Helena... to have to make that case. She probably wouldn’t have done it, not out loud to her parents; they were her parents, so she would have just resented them, adolescently, for not respecting her choices.

But now there was nothing big to resent. Was this adulthood?

Ignore it, she told herself, and she managed, mostly, to do what she was told. Her parents acted like she’d told the same thing to them; they didn’t bring up someonefromworkhernameisHelena when they spoke with Myka. Myka didn’t either.

But now here they all were, face to face in the doorway of her childhood home, her parents and Helena and her own instantly re-teenaged self, refracted by the bizarre temporal displacements that had worked together to stand them here, scaled strangely, like dolls from different playsets.

A few very formal words, such as “how do you do” and “pleased to meet you,” ensued, and Myka had genuinely never been so happy to see her sister when Tracy finally showed up. She did so sans grandchild, which Myka had requested; she tried to tell herself she’d asked for that because inflicting a child on Helena would be cruel, but in all honesty, she selfishly wanted her parents to focus not on that child, for once, but on Helena—no matter how contradictory it was of her to have tried for so long to avoid directing their attention to Helena at all.

“Myka talked about you like you weren’t even real,” Tracy greeted Helena.

“For some time I was not,” Helena greeted back.

As if Helena’s response had been the epitome of etiquette, Tracy nodded and said, “I’m going to pretend out loud that I understand that.”

Helena said, as a stage whisper to Myka, “I like your sister. She functions.”

“That may be the nicest thing anybody’s ever said about me,” said Tracy.

Myka said, “Helena can be very nice when she feels like it.”

Tracy made a face that reminded Myka she wasn’t the only one who reteenaged around their parents. “You probably can too, Myka, but I’ve never seen you feel like it.”

“I, on the other hand, have seen her feel like it,” Helena informed Tracy. “So you may have hope.”

Tracy said, as a stage whisper to Myka, “I like your girlfriend. She functions too.”

And Myka didn’t in the end care if it was Tracy’s imprimatur that made the difference: the fog of overpropriety lifted, leaving Myka free to sit back and witness Helena returning her father’s interrogative serves with H.G. Wells–related volleys—more of them than Myka had imagined could be worked into conversation. “Oh, I think my friend Edward Prendick expressed it best,” Helena began one anecdote, and she ended another, “...which brought home to me that we all feel invisible now and again.”

“You made a game of it,” Myka accused her later that night, when they had escaped to their hotel room.

Helena smiled an indulgent smile at her across the snowy-white acre of king-sized hotel bed that separated them. “Of course I did. How many points would you say I accrued?”

“I stopped keeping score,” Myka said, and she wasn’t sure if she herself was being indulgent or just grumpy.

“Quitter...” Helena began, a drag of amused accusation. But then she paused, got on hands and knees, and initiated a trek to Myka’s side of the bed. She could have done it catlike, teasing, but this was a common human crawl. “No, that’s wrong,” Helena said as she moved. She was taking her time, but it really was a very large bed. “You’re no quitter,” she announced, answering Myka’s unvoiced “huh?” with, “You feared that initial interaction.”

“That’s unfortunately true.”

“But you did in the end ensure that it occurred.”

“Because you wanted me to.”

“And here we are,” Helena said, reaching her destination. She leaned to kiss Myka, a slow melt in which Myka felt gratitude, and also softness, the sort that was always a surprise (see: peonies). Just as there were unexpected sensitive plates, there were surprisingly graceful bays of yield and give. This kiss was one of them. Gratitude, grace; and Myka felt too the future: this kiss was happening here, now, but this kind of kiss could (should) happen tomorrow, next week, years from now. Here, somewhere else, anywhere.

This is why we came here, Myka thought. Because we kiss like this. Someone you kissed like this was who you were supposed to bring home to meet your parents—and again Myka felt the sad slight press of disappointment at, but also the knee-buckling relief of, being exactly like everyone else. “Here we are,” Myka agreed. “In a hotel room in Colorado Springs. I have never in my life spent the night in a hotel room in this town.”

“Interesting.” Helena gave her a look that included a little aggressive chin-jut. “And how do you feel about that?”

“Don’t Abigail me,” Myka warned.

The chin retracted, minimally. “All right, I’ll rephrase: And what do you intend to do about that?”

But Myka felt not quite ready for what she intended to do about that. “Look, you aren’t them,” she said.

“Correct.”

“So you see my category error.”

“I do.” Helena said it soft, and Myka chose to hear it as an apology for, or at least an expression of some regret about, that wordless week. “You see my...” Helena stopped. She sighed. “My emotional error.”

A straightforward statement from Helena about having got something wrong.... Myka really was in the “endless wonder” bonus. “I do see,” Myka said. “We’re both pretty bad at this.”

“Also correct. How do you feel about that?”

Myka rolled her eyes, but other than that she didn’t bother.

Helena pursed her lips, which sometimes signaled frustration, but this time she coupled it with playful eyebrow movement. “What do you intend to do about that?”

They were bad at this so much of the time, but here they were in Colorado Springs, being better at it... good at it, even. “Ignore it for now and get back to kissing somebody. Something else that I have never done in a hotel room in this town.”

“I would think not, given that—”

“Listen, don’t make me explain what other kids did on prom night.”

Helena smiled a beautifully familiar smile. Lascivious, but only to the degree that Myka liked. So: respectful. Her tone was further along on the lascivious scale (and Myka was fine with that) as she said, “I don’t know what ‘prom night’ is, but perhaps you should explain. In detail. If I understand your implication correctly.” The word “implication” was accompanied by a placing of her body atop Myka’s that she also knew Myka liked. “Correctly” was accompanied by an application of pressure, one that she further knew Myka loved.

And that was how Myka came to enjoy what she would forever after remember as her very own personal—personalized—prom night.

During which she may have accidentally caused some bruising... but no damage.

Per the commandment. Which was difficult, but not impossible, to keep.

TBC

My non-tag essay on this one is very simple, and it is basically a version of the next “commandment,” which I had already formulated, but which the past few weeks have really made clear to me: “Thou shalt take nothing for granted.” In fact my original first ideated line of that seventh-commandment bit was going to be “Because if you take any given thing for granted, it will explode in your face. Guaranteed.” I am here to tell you that is true. Prize each and every minute of the life you consider “normal,” if that normal feels good to you. My wife was in a serious accident very recently. She’s going to be okay eventually, with luck and hard work, but change to your everyday, which you may undervalue as I did mine, comes as a whip-crack.

[lemonlover1110]

Good Wife

T. Fushiguro

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: Your husband keeps coming home late and you ask why.

Warnings: NSFW! Smut, Pregnant Sex, Oral Sex (m. receiving), Breast Fucking, Cum Eating, Vaginal Sex, Cream Pie

Toji was overjoyed at the news of your pregnancy. Although you had agreed to wait a couple of years after the birth of your son, and after your son’s second birthday you began to feel sick. Said sickness was the first trimester of your second pregnancy.

Ever since the news of pregnancy, your husband has been lovely. He’s tender with you, and does everything around the house. Your wish is his command, and he truly couldn’t be happier by doing chores or getting ordered around.

But during your sixth month of your pregnancy, something is off about him. You can’t put your finger on it, but there’s just something that’s up.

“Mommy.” You feel a tug on your skirt and you look down at your son. You smile at him before responding.

“What’s up, honey? Everything okay?” You ask, and he shakes his little head.

“Hungry.” He answers. You grab your phone to look at the time and notice how late it is. Toji’s in charge of dinner tonight, since he promised to grab some food on his way back home, but he’s late.

“Hmm… Your dad is supposed to be here anytime soon. Are you that hungry?” You question, and you watch as he rubs his tummy and nods. His little eyes that look watery make you want to burst out into tears since your pregnancy hormones make you so sentimental. “I’ll make something quick.”

You serve him a bowl of cereal with milk, since it’s something easy and fast that you can serve him. Megumi eats at the table happily, kicking his feet energetically as he brings the spoon up to his mouth.

You look at the time again and think about the whereabouts of your husband. He’s been late the entire week, but today he’s nearly two hours late. You’ve completely lost track of time, and feel like a horrible mother for not soothing your child’s hunger earlier. But you’re slightly angry at your husband because for the first time in the week you request that he brings food and he’s extremely late.

-

“Toji.” You speak as you stand up from the couch, and he’s startled to hear your firm tone of voice. You walk over to him, noticing the white plastic bag that contains the food that you had requested he’d bring for dinner.

“Honey…” He begins, and he doesn’t know what the right words to say are. He should apologize first, but you beat him to speaking.

“Care to explain why you’re so late?” You ask, your heart slowly sinking, preparing yourself for the worst. You’ve heard of stories of pregnant women getting cheated on, which apparently is something common but your Toji isn’t like that. You believe your Toji isn’t like that because he just looks like he’s so in love whenever he looks at you. More in love than before. But he’s been acting weird lately.

“I just got too caught up in work and I-” He begins and he watches you burst into tears. He puts the bag of food down on the floor and walks over to you to comfort you, wrapping his arms around you. His hand runs up and down your back, attempting to calm you down before asking what was wrong. “It’s okay, baby.”

“Are you-” You try to get yourself together, which seems impossible. Toji holds onto you, still running his hand up and down your back. He doesn’t mind the constant mood changes that are always unpredictable. You’re carrying his daughter and the least he can do is deal with you and your mood changes. You continue to sob, and he genuinely wonders what caused this.

Then he thinks about the conversation you had during your first pregnancy, where you confessed to him about your fear of him being unloyal while you were carrying his baby, which doesn’t mix well with the fact that he’s been coming home later than usual. “Baby, I swear it’s not what you think. I could never do that to you. You know I adore you and our kids more than anything.”

“What- is it?” You ask between sobs. You can’t comprehend what’s going on, why he’s slowly isolating himself. He holds you until you finally stop crying.

“Let’s eat dinner first, then we’ll talk, alright?” He says, letting go of you and picks up the bag that he put on the floor. He looks at you with a tiny smile. “Where’s our little blessing?”

“I put him to bed. Gave him some cereal as dinner then watched some TV until it was time for bed.” You tell him. Toji hadn’t realized how late it was, making him mutter an apology.

“I didn’t think I was so late.” He says. “Did you eat too?”

You nod in response, and he walks to the kitchen to put the food down on the counter. You follow behind, and wait for him to say something else. “I assume you aren’t hungry then.”

“Not really.” You answer, and he walks back to you and pecks your lips. He has a big smile on his face when he pulls away.

“You look more and more beautiful each day, y’know?” He compliments you and you don’t say anything. You just want an explanation as to why he’s coming home late these days because even though you’ve calmed down, you’re still thinking the worst. “You sure you not hungry? I got your favorite.”

You shake your head but he hears your stomach growl which makes him chuckle. Your face gets slightly warm of embarrassment, as if Toji hadn’t seen or heard worse from you. “You might not be hungry but my baby girl is.”

He walks away to serve you a plate of food and you watch him. He puts the plate right in front of you, and you don’t hesitate. He watches you eat, bringing a smile to his face.

“Sorry for coming home late, just been taking some extra hours so I can make sure you three live the best life possible.” He begins as he serves himself a plate. You finish chewing before speaking.

“Money isn’t an issue, Toji. Stop lying to me.” You reply and he sighs.

“I’ve just- beenreallyhornyandidontwanttobotheryousoivebeenstayinglongersoicancontainmyself.” He speaks too fast for you to comprehend. 

“What?” You ask. “Slowly.”

“I’ve been really horny and I don’t want to bother you since you’re pregnant and always tired so I stay extra time so I don’t have to look at you.” He tells you. You blink trying to process the words. His words don’t really help you, and although you try to hold back tears, you can’t help it. He notices and is quick to speak again. “Not in a bad way! Just whenever I look at you carrying my baby I get so- so horny and I can’t control myself. I accidentally took longer today since I lost track of time.”

“I’m sorry…” You begin and he walks over to your side to run his head up and down your back. “I didn’t-”

“There’s no need to be sorry, my love. I should’ve known how to communicate, but I didn’t want you to think it’s something that you have to do.” He assures you and you wrap your arms around him.

“I would’ve done it gladly, you know how horny I get.” You assure him. “I’m a bit tired today though.”

-

Toji gets home late, but this time it’s your fault. You sent him all the way across town to get some food that you were really craving, and being the amazing husband he is, he went to get it for you.

When he gets home, you aren’t downstairs though. He expected to find you downstairs, waiting for your food. But you aren’t there. It’s eight at night, and while you’re more tired than usual during your pregnancy, you never go to sleep this early. 

“Honey!” He yells, and he doesn’t receive any response. He calls for you again, and he puts the bag of food on the kitchen island before walking to the stairs. But you come down before he gets to go up. You wear a black silk robe that’s tied on the front and he can’t help but stare at your exposed legs.

When you’re downstairs, his arms quickly wrap around your waist and he kisses your lips. He smiles at you when you pull away, quickly asking, “Where’s our little blessing?”

“I dropped him off at my parents house.” You quickly inform him, and now he doesn’t plan on letting go of you. He kisses you again on your lips, and quickly moves to kiss along your jaw.

“So we have the house all to ourselves?” He asks and you hum in response. He continues kissing down, going down your neck and sucking on that sweet spot that he knows so clearly.

“Let’s go to our room.” You tell him and he pulls away. You grab his hand and begin to lead him to your bedroom. While he walks up the stairs he loosens his tie, his cock getting hard just at the thought of having sex with you.

You get to the room and quickly take off the robe, leaving yourself completely naked since none of your lingerie fits, and you don’t find the maternity underwear alluring enough to seduce your husband. He takes in your beauty, his cock twitching in his pants at the sight. He completely takes off his tie and begins to unbutton his shirt, all while he stares you down, thinking of all the nasty things he wants to do to you.

“You’re taking too long.” You say, watching as his shirt falls to the floor. He takes a couple steps towards you before his hand cups your breast, his thumb and index finger beginning to play with your nipple. His eyes are glued to your face, taking in your beauty before he lowers his head and his mouth wraps around your nipple.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about how big your boobs have gotten and how he wishes just to wrap his mouth around them. His mouth was salivating just looking at them for a minute.

He gives your tits attention, rolling his tongue while his hand plays with the other one, pinching your nipple and just squeezing your tit. He’s so focused, and he’s also enjoying himself. He pulls away, a strand of saliva connecting his mouth and your tit. He switches to your other tit and delights himself.

He has his fun, until that aching pain in his pants becomes too much, and he pulls away. He looks at you then lowers his gaze, and you see the tent in his pants. You unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants before rubbing his erection through his boxers. You watch his expression which brings a smirk to your lips.

You take a seat on the bed before pulling down his boxers, freeing his cock. Your hand wraps around his length and begins to slowly pump it, making him bite his bottom lip. It’s so slow, yet so enjoyable. His hand doesn’t do any justice. 

You lick the tip, tasting the precum that leaks from the tip. He groans when your mouth completely wraps around his cock, taking in as much as you can. Your mouth always feels so good but tonight there’s something different about it. Perhaps it’s the fact that he’s just so touch deprived, that anything feels stupendous.

 He just has to close his eyes and take it all. It all feels so great. But still he gets ideas in his mind, wanting to push your head and force you to take all of it. He restrains from it, remembering that you’re carrying his baby and he has to be ever so gentle with you. 

He opens his eyes and looks down at you, watching your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock and it’s such a beautiful sight. He misses this sight and often looks back at videos that you’ve made before, but it never compares to the real thing.

Your hand goes up and strokes the part of his cock that isn’t in your mouth. You don’t want to gag on his cock tonight, but you still try your hardest to please him. You know that tonight he’s going to be easily pleased.

“It’s so good-” He moans, having to shut his eyes again, and you smirk as you get an idea. You bob your head a bit more before stopping and letting go of his cock, creating a pop sound. He looks down at you, and watches the little smirk on your face, and any other day he would’ve been mean and wiped off that smirk by making you choke on his dick.

“Take a seat.” You stand up, and he just looks at you confused. He takes a seat and watches as you kneel in front of him. Excitement overtakes him when he watches you cup your tits, and he just licks his lips. He’s been wanting the moment he noticed your growing boobs.

“You’re such a good wife.” He comments as you put his cock in the middle of your chest. You squeeze your tits together and he bites his bottom lip, holding back a moan. You begin to move your breasts and he just wants to throw his head back, but he just wants to watch.

This is a rare scene. But he loves it so much. He loves how your cleavage feels on his cock and it’s perhaps something he should ask for more often. Maybe for a birthday gift. 

He watches how you move your tits. He enjoys the sensation. He stops biting his lip and freely lets his moans out, satisfying you with his voice. “So good-”

“I know, baby.” You respond. You continue moving your tits until his dick twitches and his cum lands all over you. It coats your boobs, and that sight is one he wishes he could see every time he closes his eyes. You let go of his cock and look at how he’s still hard.

Your index finger picks up some of the cum that rests on your tits and you bring it up to your lips. He’s mesmerized and thinks how good of a wife you are, how sensual you are.

He helps you get up and you lay down on the bed. He gets up and goes to the bathroom to grab a towel for you, and comes back quickly. He gives you the towel and you wipe off the cum that’s on your chest. 

He runs two fingers through your folds and gathers your slick. He chuckles, commenting, “Look at how wet you are, baby.”

He holds his index and middle finger up, separating them to show you. You just want his dick inside you. You don’t care to look, you just tell him, “Fuck me.”

“What happened to my nice little wife?” Toji questions.

“Didn’t you hear me? Your nice little wife has her needs and needs them fulfilled.” You demand, and he teases you. His cock is right at the entrance but it won’t go in.

“Pregnancy makes you so demanding.” Toji coos before entering the tip. He takes it right out, causing you to complain.

“It’s the least you could do, after all, I am carrying your baby.” You tell him, and he continues to tease you.

“Ah? You are. You’re right. But you have a mean husband.” Toji responds, with continuous teasing. Until finally he slowly enters you. When he bottoms out, he waits for a minute to let you adjust. It’s been a while. His eyes are also closed and he enjoys the feeling of your cunt. “Fuck, I missed this.”

“It’s so fucking good-” You moan when he begins to move. It’s just perfect. You missed this so much. You can’t believe you chose to sleep over this all those other nights.

Your hand goes down to play with your clit as his thrusts speed up. Your cunt feels euphoric around him. Somehow now that you’re pregnant it feels even better. Or maybe it’s because it has been so long.

“Toji-” You moan, shutting your eyes because it’s all too much.

“If you weren’t already pregnant, I would’ve knocked you up.” He groans, watching his cock disappear in your cunt. His hand goes up to pinch and play with your nipples, while another rests on your bump. “I love how big your tits are. You look so cute with your bump too.”

“Toji, love your cock-” You begin, your brain clouded with sex. Toji just smirks because you’re always like this.

“Gonna come around my cock, baby?” He asks as you begin to clench around him. “Hmm..? C’mon, say it.”

“Gonna-” You begin, but you can’t finish your sentence.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you can say it. I know you can.” He insists, slowing down his thrusts because he’s almost at his peak as well.

“I’m gonna come-” You spit out. A couple more thrusts and your legs spasm as you see white and reach your orgasm.

“That’s it. That’s my baby.” He groans. He soon comes inside you, closing his eyes, enjoying the feeling of coming in your pussy, something he missed so much. He pulls out and lays down next to you to catch his breath.

“You okay?” He asks and you hum in response. He rests his hand on top of your belly, and gently caresses it. “Thank you.”

“It was no problem, baby.” You respond and he kisses your arm. You sit up and look at him. “I’m hungry.”

“Let’s eat the food I brought.”

[avnkin]

Shake On It [ d. malfoy ]

Author’s Note: I originally planned on posting this as just one long fic buuut instead i’m going to do a mini series, ya know torture you guys just just a lil bit (gif is not mine) also I got all the information about the potions and the ingredients from harry potter wiki and of course I do not own harry potter or the storyline/characters.

Word Count: 8k

Summary: There’s little to nothing Draco values more than his reputation so when he sees it slipping, he’ll do anything in his power to catch it.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, foul language, some bullying and asshole!draco.

This is an AU so all the information doesn’t exactly line up with the hp storyline for example it takes place in sixth year but there’s no Voldemort so Dumbledore doesn’t die etc.

You’d never been much for the ‘social scene’ you just didn’t find enjoyment in the same things your classmates did, so you never really had a big friend group, your only acquaintance having been Irma Prince… The librarian.

That was until your second year when Hermione Granger came into your life like a ray of sunshine brightening up the dark loneliness that had consumed you your first year.

She introduced you to Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, although you were never as close with them as you were with Hermione you still couldn’t be more grateful for your newfound friend group, especially since you now didn’t have to endure Draco’s and his fellow Slytherin classmates torment alone.

You were and had always been an easy target for Draco and his entourage since you never really stood up for yourself, instead choosing to ignore how he continuously called you ‘a blood traitor’ for hanging out with ‘the likes of Hermione’ which you never understood, how was someone different from him just because they didn’t have magical parents?

It was a well-known fact that Draco’s father Lucius Malfoy was the cause of his attitude towards muggle-borns, you truly believed that man didn’t have a kind bone in his body.

You remembered once when you’d arrived at platform 9¾ after your third year Draco went to greet his parents and whilst Narcissa (his mother) gave him a big welcoming hug, embracing her son after not having seen him for many months Lucius simply stared down at him with a glare that could only be described as disgust and disappointment before turning and walking away without as much as a greeting to the platinum blond.

Still, that didn’t excuse Draco’s foul behaviour, he was old enough now to have his own opinions and morals and he didn’t seem to be planning on changing them anytime soon.

You were now in your sixth year and unsurprisingly nothing had changed, Draco was still the same arse he’d always been, but as the years went on it was getting progressively easier to ignore him since you’d gotten so used to it.

It almost felt like it had become a part of your daily routine for him to yell something degrading in the hallways, mostly directed at you or Hermione or whatever Gryffindor he felt like bullying that day.

Intently focusing on the potions book that laid opened before you, you carefully followed the detailed instructions, not wanting to get a single thing wrong since you needed at least an outstanding in this class to keep up your average.

The last part was to add: ‘One drop of Unicorn blood’

You grabbed the flask that contained the silver liquid and as steadily as possible you leaned the bottle over your cauldron, letting a small drop slip past the edge and into the black water, but as you began leaning back Pansy Parkinson ‘accidentally’ bumped into you causing the entirety of the bottle to spill into your potion.

You glared up at her as you watched the black liquid turn sickly green instead of sparkly blue as it should. She shrugged her shoulders innocently, before walking back to the station she shared with Draco who greeted her with an amused smirk before turning back to his work.

“Try not to think too much about it” Hermione’s comforting voice sounded from beside you. “I’m so sick of those two” you argued pouring the remaining containments of the cauldron into a sink, now having to start the entire potion all over again.

“I know, I am too” Hermione frowned glaring at the two Slytherins who didn’t even bother to look over at her.

“Miss Y/L/N weren’t you nearly finished a couple of minutes ago?” Professor Slughorn’s voice could be heard from behind you as he looked over your shoulder, an unimpressed look on his face.

“Uh- yes sir it’s just I accidentally put too much Unicorns blood and had to start over again” you lied looking into the now-empty cauldron before you, glaring at Pansy once you heard her quiet laughter from the other side of the classroom.

“Well alright, but I’d hurry if I were you, I’m afraid you’re running a bit short on time” he smiled before moving on to the students sat in front of you.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Hermione frowned once Slughorn was out of earshot, you gave her a knowing look having had this conversation with her on more than one occasion.

Tattling on them wouldn’t change anything it would simply make their torments increase and you didn’t need that, especially with the N.E.W.T.S coming up you didn’t want anything distracting your studies.

Despite having been interrupted by Pansy you managed to be the only one who brewed the potion right and the displeased scowl placed on Pansy’s face as she watched you get praised by the teacher and the rest of the class was nothing but amusing.

Once you were finally dismissed, you were walking alongside Hermione down the long corridors leading to the Great Hall when someone again bumped into you causing all the books you’d been clutching between your arms to go flying towards the ground and you along with them.

“What a klutz” you heard the familiar squeaky voice of Pansy Parkinson, you hurriedly got back up onto your feet whilst Hermione picked up the remaining books that had sprawled all across the stone floor.

“You did that on purpose” you growled charging at Pansy who cowered away from you as you neared her but once she noticed Draco was watching she stopped dead in her tracks, a side smirk resting on her lips before she tilted her head to the side.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” she innocently smiled before walking around you and back to Draco who held an emotionless expression on his face as he walked with her down the hall.

“Bitch” you mumbled underneath your breath just before Hermione came running up to you. “Are you okay?” she faintly smiled before handing you your things.

“Fine” you deadpanned before the two of you began walking back down the hallway again.

Once you’d made it into the Great Hall you immediately spotted Harry and Ron a smile on your face as you took a seat next to Harry, and Hermione the one next to Ron the previous events being long forgotten as you distracted yourself with the comforting company of your friends.  

“Since when did Y/L/N and Potter become so close?” Draco’s face held a scowl as he watched the two of you interact from afar, he truly didn’t know why it bothered him, but for some reason it did.

“Why do you care?” Pansy replied as she began shifting in her seat to move closer to Draco who almost instinctively moved away causing a bright red tint to appear on her cheeks as she hurriedly moved back to her original seat.

“I don’t” he simply replied tearing his eyes away from you and Harry as he began playing with his food.

“You know what I think” Blaise raised an eyebrow as he daringly stared Draco down, “I think Malfoy’s gone soft” Blaise finished, the words earning loud snickers from the students sat next to them.

Draco’s stomach churned in anger at the words of his best friend throwing the boy a nasty glare before turning back to his food, but Blaise didn’t intend to stop there.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you never pick on her anymore and you always get really defensive whenever- “

“Shut the hell up Blaise” Draco commanded and even though Blaise knew he was skating on thin ice, Draco’s fury only seemed to egg him on further as his eyes wandered towards the Gryffindor table to look at you.

"You know what Malfoy since you claim you have no feelings for her at all I dare you to break her heart"

"What?" Draco questioned genuinely confused at his friends' statement. "Make her fall in love with you and then dump her" Draco looked over at Pansy who seemed almost giddy at the suggestion, of course she'd be happy about this.

Draco thought about it for a moment, he knew that if he didn't do this he'd never hear the end of it, and keeping up his 'I don't care about anyone but myself' attitude had served him well over the years so as he weighed out the pros and the cons it seemed the cons were outnumbered and without a second thought he reached his hand out to Blaise.

"You've got yourself a deal" Draco spoke as they shook hands "and when I win, you'll be my personal servant for the rest of the year" Draco finished as he pulled his hand back causing Blaise's cocky facial expression to quickly drop.

"Fine but when I win, you have to do my homework for Defence Against the Dark Arts till we graduate" Draco rolled his eyes but nodded as he let his hand fall back into his lap.

He stared at you watching as you laughed at something Harry said and couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt knowing what he was about to do, but he shook the feeling away engaging back in the conversation of his friends, pushing all thoughts of you into the back of his mind.

The following week Draco still had yet to make his move on you. He was brainstorming ideas as he made his way to Potions, none of them good enough to follow through with but when he’d finally made his way into the classroom, he went to walk over to Blaise like he usually would but instead he found himself staring at the empty seat next to you.

He looked over at Blaise who was already quizzically staring at him. Draco mouthed a ‘watch this’ in return before he made his way towards you, grabbing a hold of the chair next to yours he stared down at you before asking.

"Is this seat taken?"

You looked up from your book turning to greet who you thought would have been Harry or Ron but instead, you were met with a pair of grey eyes you were not expecting to see, your mouth slightly parting as you stared wide-eyed at him.

"Yes actually-" you began but he had already sat down before you'd been able to reply, placing his backpack on the floor below him.

You raised an eyebrow at the blond, to which he replied by smiling over at you acting as if him sitting there was the most normal thing in the world.

"Do you mind?" you finally managed to choke out as he turned to face you.

"No, not at all" your eyes went wide at his words as you frantically began looking around the classroom for Hermione.

Once you made eye contact with her, you gave her a pleading look silently begging for her to help you, but she only took a hesitant seat next to Neville shrugging her shoulders indicating that there wasn't much she could do.

You grabbed the handle of your backpack beginning to stand up when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist preventing you from moving any further.

"Seems like all the other seats are taken Y/L/N" you frowned at his words turning your head to look around the classroom and sure enough there wasn't a single seat available.

You glared at him before ripping your hand out of his grasp and reluctantly sitting back down.

"Good morning" Slughorn's voice could be heard as he made his way towards the front of the classroom.

"Today we'll be working in pairs so whoever you're sitting next to is your partner for this assignment" your eyes widened in horror at his words as you glanced over at the Slytherin clad boy next to you.

"You're going to be writing an essay on the properties of Moonstone and its uses in Potion making" why did he have to announce this assignment today of all days?

You again looked over at Draco who seemed to be smiling, why was he happy about this? You placed your head in your hands as your mind began to wander, this was probably some stupid plan he and his friends had made to get you to fail the class.

"Professor" you eagerly raised your hand "is it too late to change partners?" you asked, silently begging for him to say no so you could work with Hermione or anyone else for that matter.

"Well I'm afraid everyone else seems to be taken Miss Y/L/N, I'm sure you and Mister Malfoy will be just fine together" you felt a flash off anger as you turned to look at the boy sat next to you.

"I swear if this is your idea of some sort of sick joke Malfoy, I'll hex you into oblivion" you threatened not daring to break eye contact with him, smirking once you noticed his taken aback expression.

"Y/L/N calm down, It's not a joke? You're the best at Potions in our year so I wanted to see if you'd be willing to work together but doesn't look like you have much of a choice now" he shrugged his shoulders; something was definitely off about this.

"So, you couldn't just ask me before we got to class?" his eyes seemed to widen a bit as he thought of a response but you continued before he had the chance to say anything "because I would have said no" and with that, you turned away from him pulling a piece of parchment out of your backpack along with your quill so you could start planning the next few weeks.

As it was nearing the end of the class you and Draco hadn't spoken a word to each other since you'd shut down all his attempts of starting a conversation, not having been interested in anything he had to say.

When class was over you handed Draco the piece of parchment that had a very detailed description of what his part in the project would be, so you'd be able to spend as little time together as possible, although he seemed to be quite displeased at this beginning to protest that you should work together so you'd get a better grade.

"I'm not spending any more time with you than I have to Malfoy so if you'll excuse me" you stood up pushing him out of the way before making your way to Neville's station where Hermione stood shoving her books into her bag.

Once you finally reached her you grabbed her by the arm, quickly pulling her after you out of the classroom. Ignoring her protests until you finally reached an empty corridor, void of any students and teachers.

"Please tell me you saw all that" you pleaded as you let go of her arm.

“You mean Malfoy?” Hermione replied, “yes Malfoy! He’s acting like we’re all of a sudden, the best of friends? Like he didn’t just call me a ‘blood traitor’ last week” you exasperated a scowl on your face.

“I think that was Zabini” Hermione acknowledged making you furrow your brows your mind wandering back to the encounter and sure enough she was right, Zabini had been the one to hurl the insult.

“What does it matter who said it, he’s one of them!” you protested, angrily turning to look at Hermione once you heard her stifled laughter from beside you.

“This isn’t funny! I’m stuck with him for the next- who knows how many weeks on this stupid project” you complained letting your head fall back as you let out a groan.

“Its okay Y/N don’t worry… I reckon he just fancies you” Hermione teased wiggling her eyebrows as she lightly nudged you in the shoulder.

“Have you gone mad?” you practically gasped although you couldn’t help the unfamiliar heat that began rushing to your cheeks at her words.

“Merlin Y/N you’re blushing! You like him?” you frantically covered her mouth as you noticed students beginning to fill the previously empty hallways.

“Would you hush! And no! I do not like Draco Malfoy, I could never like someone like him” you hissed your anger only growing once you noticed the same smile still linger on her lips.

“Whatever you say” Hermione jokingly sing sang, and in response you lightly hit her across the head with a piece of parchment you’d been holding unfortunately not getting the results you wanted since it only seemed to be egging her laughter on more.

“Alright calm down you lunatic I’m only joking” Hermione frowned rubbing the spot on her head you’d begun repeatedly hitting her, “you better be” you hummed, again pulling her after you as you two began walking down the hallways blending into the crowd of students.

“You know I can walk by myself” Hermione frowned once you’d found yourself standing out in the courtyard, your eyes searching for your two other friends since when you had Potions they had a free period which they spent most of their time here.

You finally spotted them sitting on a bench below a large brown oak tree, Seamus and Dean stood in front of them.

It was now Hermione’s turn to pull you away and in mere seconds you were standing next to the four Gryffindor clad boys who all turned their heads towards the two of you.

“Hello” you smiled before looking over at Harry who had already begun scooting over gesturing for you to come and sit down next to him, to which you happily obliged.

They all greeted you and Hermione before continuing their conversation about the upcoming Quidditch game they had against Slytherin next week.

“Yeah well Malfoy hasn’t caught the snitch when competing against Harry once, so I think we’re going to be okay” Ron assured Seamus who didn’t seem to be all that convinced but still began to make his way back into school Dean following behind him shortly after.

“Speaking of Malfoy” Hermione knowingly smirked at you before turning towards the two boys.

“Hermione no-“ you began but it was already too late, “seems he as a little crush” and there it was, you inwardly face palmed feeling the now-familiar heat in your face as you turned away from the confused glances of your two friends.

“Malfoy fancies Y/N?” Ron seemed to be more disgusted rather than confused as he scrunched up his nose.

“Hermione first of all I’m going to kill you! And second of all, he doesn’t like me! He just wanted to be partners on some stupid assignment in Potions” you assured them.

“And you said yes?” Harry perplexed.

“No! Of course not, he- he didn’t give me much of a choice” you rambled scratching the back of your head before glaring over at Hermione.

“What? He forced you to work with him?” Harry again furrowed his brows, “No- or well he sat next to me in class and I couldn’t move anywhere else since all of the other seats were taken and when Professor Slughorn arrived he immediately announced that we’d be working on our essays with whoever sat next to us” you began rambling, causing your three friends to share amused glances, unbeknownst to you.

Harry seemed to understand slowly nodding before claiming him and Ron had quidditch practice pulling the ginger boy along with him out of the courtyard, leaving just you and Hermione.

After a few minutes of silence, you turned to face her, “I think I’m going to go to the library, care to join me?” Hermione shook her head at your words pointing at the book she had just opened already beginning to make herself comfortable on the little bench you’d been sitting on.

You rolled your eyes “suit yourself” you breathed out offering her a small wave as you stood up, which she returned before you began walking back into the crowded hallways.

As you neared the library you began to hear footsteps behind you, smirking since you thought Hermione had changed her mind about joining you.

You turned around expecting to see your best friend but instead, you were met with Draco who now stood still a few feet away from you.

“Are you following me?” you crossed your arms raising an eyebrow at the boy.

He shook his head now walking towards you “just wanted to see if you’d like some company and since you’re heading towards the library we can work on our essay”

“So, you were following me” you accused but before he could answer you continued, “I thought I already told you I’m not spending any more time with you than I have too so if you’ll excuse me” you turned your back to him continuing your way to the library.

“Your loss Y/L/N” you heard him teasingly call after you making a smile appear on your lips which you tried to the best of your ability to contain.

-

Your next Potions class was one you’d been dreading, knowing that the people who were paired together on the essay had also been assigned to sit next to each other, very much to your dismay.

Professor Slughorn had asked all of you to join him at the front of the classroom so he could show you a couple of the potions you’d be brewing for the next couple of weeks and of course the one you’d be working on today.

“And this one right here is-” Slughorn was abruptly cut off by the sound of the classroom door swinging open. You quizzically looked past Slughorn’s shoulder and furrowed your brows at the two boys who had entered.

“Harry?” you asked a bit louder than you intended to causing the attention of the class to turn to Harry and Ron rather than Professor Slughorn.

“Ah! Harry my boy I was beginning to worry, and you’ve brought someone with you I see, what’s your name then?” Slughorn asked, brightly smiling at the two Gryffindors.

“Ron Weasley sir, but I’m dead awful at potions- a menace actually so I’m probably just gonna-“  Ron’s voice wavered as he began to turn around but Harry quickly put his arm out in front of him pushing him back into the classroom.

“Oh, don’t be silly, we’ll sort you out! There are some books in the cupboard over there if you need them” Slughorn pointed towards the end of the classroom where Ron and Harry quickly began fighting over the last book in there.

You and Hermione both gave each other confused glances before your attention was back on the Professor stood in front of you.

“As I was saying I’ve prepared some concoctions this morning. Any ideas what these may be?” you quickly raised your hand Hermione copying your actions as Slughorn’s eyes wandered between the two of you before he eventually pointed at you.

“Yes, miss Y/L/N” Slughorn stepped out of the way as you took a step forward towards the two pots that rested on the table.

“This one is Veritaserum a truth-telling serum and that one over there is Amortentia the most powerful love potion in the world. It’s rumoured to smell differently to each person according to what attracts them” you smiled proudly at yourself before taking a step back towards the other students.

You heard Pansy scoff causing you to quickly turn around to glare at her and just as you did you saw Draco elbow her in the side whispering something in her ear before shaking his head at her actions.

You quickly looked away before Draco’s eyes could catch yours since you felt the annoying feeling of warmth rush up into your cheeks and a smile replace the frown you’d indented to direct at Pansy.

“Very good Miss Y/L/N” Slughorn smiled before beginning to tell the students that whoever managed to brew an acceptable Draught of Living Death would be walking out of the classroom with one vile of Liquid Luck.

You quickly walked over to your station Draco following in suit behind you as you both turned to page 10 on your ‘advanced potion making’ books.

Your eyes wandered over the page before you spotted the instructions.

1. Cut up one Sopophorus bean.

You frowned down at the text as you glanced between it and the bean, it didn’t look like it was meant to be cut, and your suspicions were right as you began noticing your fellow classmates struggle around you.

Your eyes widened as Draco’s bean came hurling at your face at an ungodly speed, you practically had to throw yourself to the floor so it wouldn’t hit you in the face.

“Bloody hell Y/N are you okay!?” Draco panicked as he rushed to your side offering his hand to help you up which you ignored to distracted by the fact he’d called you by your first name.

You quickly got up onto your feet still ignoring his outstretched hand. You’d never in all your years at Hogwarts heard him call anyone by their first name, let alone you, a Gryffindor he’d hated since the first year.

“What did you just call me?” you asked although it came out a bit harsher then you intended it too. You didn’t mind that he was using your first name you just found it incredibly odd especially for someone like him.

“What, Y/L/N? that’s your name isn’t it” he was acting clueless as he walked back around the table to attend to his potion.

“No, you said Y/N” you raised an eyebrow as you watched him grab another bean now simply resorting to ignoring you, whatever you thought, brewing this potion was more important than what name Draco decided to call you.

As you continued to observe the students around you, you noticed Harry grab a silver knife and slowly press it onto the bean. You mirrored his actions and to your delight, it worked.

“How did you do that?” Draco could be heard from opposite you as he furiously looked between the instructions in his book and the crushed bean in your hand.

“Crush it don’t cut it” you shrugged, your finger traveling further down the page and stopping at the second step.

2. Pour in 250 fl.oz. of Standard potioning water and add 5 oz. of African Sea Salt to the beaker. Set the beaker aside after all the water has been added. Be very careful not to shake or move the beaker now.

The rest of the lesson had gone by in a flash and even though you felt like you’d be the one rewarded with the Liquid Luck, it ended up being Harry and you couldn’t help but wonder how the hell he managed to brew something better than you.

You remembered Harry continuously failing all his Potions classes never getting more than a poor or an acceptable on any of his assignments or tests.

After class you immediately cornered him, and it didn’t take long for him to confess to the book he’d found. Property of the half-blood prince it read and as you flipped through the many pages it had all the ‘correct’ recipes to every single potion you’d be brewing throughout the term.

“I knew it! You’ve always been dreadful at potions” you finally felt at ease knowing that Harry had only won you by cheating, shaking your head as you placed the book back into his arms.

“Hey! I am not ‘dreadful’ at potions” he imitated you his hands making air quotes at the word dreadful, a laugh slipping past your lips as you remembered a certain incident from when you were younger.

“Oh really? Don’t you remember third year when Snape told us to make a shrinking solution and you poured it all over Hermione-“ you began but Harry quickly cut you off.

“Alright! Alright! You’ve made your point now shove off I don’t feel like listening to this story right now” you threw your head back in laughter as you thought back to a tiny Hermione who hadn’t spoken to Harry a whole week after the incident.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re doing a great job with Y/L/N, I reckon Potter’s in there more than you” Blaise sounded amused as he came up behind Draco who was watching yours and Harry’s exchange from afar.

“Don’t worry Blaise, I’m only getting started”

Later in the day you, Harry, Ron and Hermione had all decided to take a little trip down to Hogsmeade for a much needed break from your studies.

“No sit beside me” Harry insisted as the four of you made your way into the Three Broomsticks, you gave him a confused glance but nevertheless dragged the chair out from underneath the table and sat down next to him.

You went to ask why but quickly managed to put two and two together once you noticed professor Slughorn sat at the bar, a beer in his hand as he talked with one of the other professors.

“What’s your deal with Slughorn?” you questioned as Harry began waving the professor over. “I need to get into the slug club” you furrowed your brows but before you could question it any further Slughorn had arrived at your table.

“Ah! Mister Potter lovely to see you, you as well Miss Y/L/N” Slughorn smiled completely disregarding Hermione and Ron who sat opposite you.

“Likewise, Professor” you smiled as he and Harry began talking about something you couldn’t be less interested in, instead your eyes began to wander around the small tavern until they finally landed on Draco who was already staring intently at you.

“You’d be welcomed to Y/L/N” your gaze diverted from the platinum blond towards Slughorn who was smiling brightly down at you. “I’d love too!” you agreed having faintly heard him mention a christmas dinner.

“Wonderful! Look for my owl” you couldn’t help but let out a laugh at Hermione’s face who seemed to be more than distraught that she hadn’t received an invitation of her own.

“Oh, how silly of me Granger, I hope I’ll also be seeing you there” Hermione’s face lit up at his words as she repeatedly nodded, Slughorn awkwardly looking over at Ron before speaking, “good to see you Wallenby”.

You were finally able to let out the laugh you’d been holding in as Slughorn exited the tavern. “Oh, shut up Y/N” Ron frowned crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back into his chair.

When your laughter had finally died down you offered to go and order your drinks since the waiter had yet to make an appearance at your table.

“Four butter beers please” you smiled at the worker as you leaned onto the bar going to turn around but instead you were met with a black suit your eyes wandering upwards to see Draco towering over you.

You cleared your throat causing him to take a step back, “anything I can help you with?” you questioned as Draco stood motionless in front of you.

“Yes, would you like to join me?” Draco asked gesturing to an empty table at the far end of the tavern. You looked over to where he was pointing causing you to quickly spot his friends who were all sat at another table, their eyes set on you.

“Uhm- I think they’d loved to join you” you pointed towards them causing Draco to quickly snap his head in their direction, making them all quickly turn to each other acting as nonchalant as they could.

“But I’d much rather spend time with you” you felt a weird tingly feeling at his words but nonetheless you didn’t dare act on it your eyes going to your friend’s who were all staring quizzically at you.

“Sorry I- Uhm I can’t I came here with them” you gestured towards your table Draco’s eyes following in the direction you pointed before they were back on you.

“Well alright, but you owe me a date then” he winked before turning around and going back to join his Slytherin friends.

Your mouth hung open as you watched him walk away, did he just say date?

You power walked back towards your friends hastily taking a seat next to Harry who already had his eyes glued on you.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Ron asked as soon as you’d fully sat down.

“Oh- Uhm, he just wanted to ask me about our assignment” they all looked skeptical at your reply but didn’t question it any further another topic quickly consuming your table.

“Do any of you have a date to the Jingle Ball?” Hermione’s question rang throughout the table, causing both boys shook their heads and you along with them, in all honesty, you didn’t expect to get asked so you’d probably just end up going with Harry like last year.

“Guess we know who Ginny’s going with” you giggled gesturing towards her and Dean who were currently taking a seat at a table not so far from yours, their fingers wrapped around each other’s.

“I’d like to leave” Ron shifted in his seat uncomfortably as he stared at his sister and who he had once considered a close friend. “Honestly Ron they’re only holding hands” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“And snogging” you added on as Ginny connected her lips with Dean’s. “Yep that’s it we’re leaving” Ron stood up grabbing the coat that hung on the chair beside him.

“Oh come on we haven’t even gotten our orders yet!” you protested as all your friends began to stand up, maybe you should have joined Draco before.

“Fine” you huffed once you noticed they had no intention of staying any longer. “Why don’t you just ask Malfoy to come join you, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind” Ron teased causing you to quickly hit him in the arm.

“Shut up Ron!”

Once you’d all made it back to Hogwarts you and Hermione separated from Ron and Harry since they claimed to have yet another quidditch practice although you figured it was code for going to scout possible dates for the Jingle Ball.

“So, what did Draco really want earlier?” Hermione gave you a knowing look as she lightly bumped you in the shoulder.

“It was so weird he-he said that I owe him a date” your voice was hesitant as you turned your head to look at Hermione who didn’t seem at all surprised.

“Well, now you know who you can go to the Jingle Ball with” she stated matter of factly causing your eyes to widen as you gaped at her.

“Hermione, I love you but have you gone mad? Me and Draco? I don’t think so” you denied but there was still the lingering feeling of hope deep down in your stomach that you tried with all your might to suppress.

“Well he obviously has a thing for you, and I mean he’s not too bad to look at”

“Shove off”

-

You had been actively avoiding Draco ever since the Hogsmeade trip, something about the entire ordeal just felt weird to you, why was he all of a sudden so bold about his apparent feelings towards you when a couple of weeks ago he wouldn’t even look your way.

But it seemed your luck had run out since he now stood in front of you, hand outstretched as he leaned it against the stone wall preventing you from continuing your way to your Transfigurations class.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something” Draco breathed out. He was getting desperate, it was unbearable, the teasing he’d been receiving from his friends once they’d noticed he wasn’t making any progress with you, and he knew if he didn’t do something soon he was going to lose the bet.

“Well can it wait? I need to get to class” you huffed watching as he pushed himself off the wall to come and stand in front of you, causing your body to turn with him, your back eventually colliding with the wall behind you.

“I was wondering” Draco smirked placing a hand next to your head as he leaned in closer towards you, you now only realizing how much taller he was then you as you found yourself craning your neck upwards to meet his eyes.

“Would you like to be my date for the Jingle Ball” the words made your stomach flip and you felt the sudden urge to let out a squeal, but you somehow managed to keep yourself together, taking in a deep breath before you took a step forward his hand slipping from the wall your faces mere centimeters from each other.

“No” you stated watching as his eyes went wide, clearly, he wasn’t anticipating that answer.

“If you want me to even consider going out with you after all the shit you’ve done over the years, you’re going to have to work for it.”

He watched your ascending figure before you fully left his sight and when you did he angrily kicked the wall cursing underneath his breath, he was used to getting everything and anything he ever wanted without as much as a snap of his finger so this was something he wasn’t used too.

The stakes were high, his entire reputation was on the line and he did not intend to give Blaise the satisfaction of being right or his housemates a reason to tease him for what would probably be the rest of his life.

All the girls at this school would practically fall at his feet, why couldn’t you be like those girls? Make this easy for him, not once in his life had Draco Malfoy had a real challenge when it came to girls but now it seemed the tables had turned, he was going to play your game and he was going to win.

-

It was now the day of the Slytherin versus Gryffindor quidditch game. You, Harry and Hermione, were all sat in the Great Hall watching as Ron entered in his Quidditch gear, helmet, and everything.

You had yet to tell Hermione about Draco asking you to the ball since you didn’t really know how you felt about it yourself and also because he probably wouldn’t be asking you out again, you having let him down quite harshly.

You glared over at the Slytherin table once you heard them beginning to yell things along the lines of ‘Ron you’re a loser’, ‘he doesn’t stand a chance’ and ‘nice hat Weasley’.

“Ignore them, Ron, I know you’ll do great” you reassuringly smiled up at your friend as he took a seat opposite you, his face contorted in worry as he looked over at the Slytherin table who continued to laugh at him.

“Yeah, thanks” he gulped once he turned back to face you, this had to have been the first time you’d ever seen Ron leave his food untouched.

“You look dreadful Ron” Luna’s voice could be heard from the other end of the table, your eyes widening as you looked over at her, “Is that why you put something in his drink” she finished, the last part of her sentence directed at Harry.

You looked over at the boy sat next to you and faintly managed to see a glimmer of light before it disappeared fully into his pocket.

“Liquid Luck?” Hermione sounded from opposite you and you finally managed to put two and two together.

“Are you mental Harry? You’ll get in so much trouble if you’re caught” your eyes widened as you watched him pass Ron the cup of pumpkin juice he’d poured his one vile of Liquid Luck into moments ago, well according to Luna at least.

“Don’t drink it Ron” Hermione scolded, before you both gasped as you watched Ron without a moment’s thought chug the remaining juice in his cup.

You watched intently as his frown was turned upside down and he slammed the cup back onto the table, a sly smirk now playing on his lips.

“You could be expelled for that” Hermione pointed out glaring at Harry who innocently smiled at her before shrugging and stating that he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Come on Harry we’ve got a game to win” Ron’s sudden aura of confidence was radiating off of him as he quickly pushed himself away from the table and began exiting the Great Hall.

“We’ll see you guys there?” Harry questioned as he looked between the two of you also beginning to stand up.

“We wouldn’t miss it” Hermione assured him as you both watched him awkwardly wave before he turned to follow Ron.

“This is going to be interesting”

-

Loud screams and chants began filling your ears as you watched the two teams make their way out onto the Quidditch pitch, you and Hermione quickly joined in beginning to clap and cheer as you made eye contact with Ron who looked as ready as ever.

A particular blond seemed to have caught your eye since before you knew it Madame Hooch was announcing the start of the game causing you to snap out of your trance, when you looked back at Draco he was already smirking up at you making you quickly look away as your cheeks turned bright red, pulling your Gryffindor patterned scarf up over your face in hopes that he wouldn’t notice the crimson colour.

“Seekers shake hands!” you watched as Harry and Draco walked up to each other clasping each other’s arms before Draco retorted something in Harry’s direction causing him to quickly pull his hand away from his the game now officially beginning.

It had been almost an hour now and so far Gryffindor was in the lead the score being 23-45. You were beginning to think you’d lost your voice but nevertheless you still raised your hands high in the air and cheered Harry on as he dove towards the snitch with Draco hot on his heels.

You anxiously began biting your nails as the two continuously bumped into each other both their arms outstretched as they neared the golden object.

“Come on Harry” you whispered the anticipation was killing you, but you didn’t have to wait much longer since the two boys suddenly crashed into each other sending them both flying off of their brooms and hurling towards the grass below.

You gasped as you stood up beginning to lean over the railing to get a better look at the two seekers who now both laid on the grass clutching their stomachs, but you widely smiled once you noticed a familiar shimmer coming from Harry’s hand.

“Yes!” you screamed as he carefully sat himself up raising the golden object up into the air for the rest of the stadium to see. Your happiness was quickly replaced with worry once you noticed the Slytherin boy laid next to Harry wasn’t moving.

“Is Malfoy okay?” you frantically shook Hermione as you pointed down at him but Hermione paid you no mind her eyes trained on Ron who was proudly raising his hands in the air as it was announced that Harry had caught the snitch.

Since everybody seemed to be too caught up with themselves you again leaned over the railing before screaming Draco’s name hoping it would at least capture the attention of someone from his team so they could help him.

You felt a wave of relieve wash over you as you watched his previously limp body turn over before he placed his hands on the grass pushing himself to sit up, the hand that wasn’t holding him up immediately going to rub his forehead.

He sent a glare Harry’s way before he grabbed his broom and began storming off the field his teammates following shortly after, for some odd reason you began to feel bad for him as you watched the disapproved glances from his fellow Slytherin’s being thrown his way but you decided to push the feeling away joining in on the celebration of your house.

Once you arrived at the Gryffindor common room a celebration had quickly ensued the hollering of Ron’s last name began sounding all around the room as you began clapping in rhythm to all of their chants, you and Hermione watching as Ron got pushed in the middle of the crowd.

Before you knew it a girl you didn’t know the name of had wrapped her arms around his neck, harshly pulling him down to meet her lips, you gasped as you faintly remembered a conversation between you and Hermione where she’d admitted to harboring a crush on the ginger boy.

You quickly turned to see Hermione pushing her way through the crowd and out of the common room. You began following her but quickly lost sight of her as you tried your best to squeeze through the teenagers who had now begun lifting Ron into the air.

“Hermione!” you called out but it was impossible to hear anything over the celebrations so you gave up on calling out to her simply resorting to pushing the students that stood in your way.

Once you finally managed to reach the door that led out into the hallway you frantically pushed it open beginning to search the corridors for your best friend.

When you rounded a particular corner, you came crashing into a much taller figure then yourself sending you flying towards the ground at the impact.

“Watch where you’re goin-“ the familiar voice of Draco Malfoy sounded from above you but stopped once he made eye contact with you. “Y/L/N?” he questioned before reaching his hand out to you which you accepted letting him pull you back up onto your feet.

“What are you doing out here, shouldn’t you be celebrating?” there was a defiant malice to his tone as he scowled in the direction of your common room where chants could still be faintly heard.

“I could ask you the same thing Malfoy” you raised an eyebrow since you weren’t anywhere near the dungeons where the Slytherin common room was.

“Just needed some air, some people aren’t exactly thrilled with the outcome of today’s game” Draco shrugged causing your stomach to drop slightly at his obvious disappointment. He sat himself down on a bench a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he let his head fall back onto the wall.

You slowly sat down next to him carefully contemplating your next words. “Not that it would mean anything to you but I thought you were really good” you tried to comfort him as you watched a faint smile appear on his lips before he turned his head towards you.

You didn’t realize just how close you were to each other until his eyes quickly looked down to your lips and back into your eyes. You suddenly remembered why you were out here in the first place, your thoughts traveling back to Hermione who had disappeared only moments ago.

“I’m sorry but I really need to go, uh- I’ll uh see you in class” you excused yourself before standing up and continuing your search for your best friend, but a hand wrapping around your wrist stopped you dead in your tracks as you were turned back around.

Your eyes slowly travelled up from Draco’s tight grip on you and back into his icy grey eyes. You carried a confused glance on your face which Draco seemed to notice since he quickly let go of your wrist.

“Thank you” is all he said before he swiftly turned back around and began walking down the corridor, disappearing out of sight.

next part

[starrconch]

Hello! I would like to request a Childe x reader where the reader is the cryo archon/Tsaritsa who took a liking to Childe and is very biased with him? The reader never made an effort to hide their favoritism from the rest of the harbingers and the fatui, thank you!

CRYO ARCHON/ TSARITSA READER

★ Includes: Childe/ Tartaglia, implied female reader as a tsaritsa is a generally a female (but pronouns aren't mentioned), spoilers for the Liyue/ geo archon quest

★ Word Count: 912

★ Master List

★ Notes: thank you for being my first ever request! This was very fun to write, so I hope it's up to your standards ♡

CHILDE

★ Although the fatui’s ruthless reputation, you made it your mission to be kind to those in your organisation. It was lonely being an archon and immortal, you had to so that Teyvat would be a nicer place to thrive.

★ You never paid much mind to the eleventh harbinger until he began to show his loyalty to you. He was pretty at first sight, sure, but everyone noticed that about him. What you cared about in a person were their values and strength.

★ Over time as the two of you grew closer, you came to admire him more and more. You realised that he also may be infatuated with your presence.

You slumped in your throne of ice that had been carved meticulously by the previous Cryo Archon, resting your head on your hand. Scaramouche had returned from his regular trip to Inazuma, reporting to you on the movements of the Electro Archon. Once again, there was nothing new.

You had him infiltrate the nation to find out why the archon didn’t allow visions and to find the whereabouts of their gnosis, but so far all he had discovered was their upcoming events and personal hobbies.

The doors to your throne room burst open, revealing a certain ginger-haired harbinger with a grin plastered across his face.

You instantly straightened your back, a matching smile turning up the corners of your lips. “Ah, Tartaglia, have you come bearing good news?” You asked, cutting the sixth harbinger off from his tangent that you happened to not be paying attention to. You felt bad for him, he was just trying to do his job and serve you, but your little crush on the man who just entered had other plans.

“Of course I do.” He wiped a fleck of blood off of the side of his cheek. “It’s spectacular news, though, not quite as spectacular as you.” The harbinger winked, walking up to the foot of your dais and kneeling before you.

“So, what do you have to report from the geo nation of Liyue?”

Scaramouche crossed his arms. “We were in the middle of something, were we not? I say this little rat waits his turn.”

“Little? Even though I tower over you? I find that to be a bit of a controversy.” Tartaglia rose from where he knelt, drawing something from his pocket.

You struggled to not laugh at his words. It was amusing how he could make light out of any situation, it was one of the many things you admired about him. “Now, now. Let us hear of Tartaglia’s accomplishments.”

Spying what he held in his half-gloved palm, your eyes widened and your hand covered your mouth to stifle your gasp. The geo gnosis glowed a faint golden hue and you could feel its thrum of power from where you sat.

“Signora has other matters to attend to at this moment in time, but she was also a great help in acquiring this.” He placed it in your palm gently, your fingers brushing against each other for a lingering moment. “It required a great battle, but it was an easy feat in the end.” Tartaglia interlaced the fingers of your other hand with his own, and brought up your hand to his lips so he could kiss the back of it.

“I have no doubt about it. You are indeed very skilled at what you do.” Hoping he didn’t see your blush, you turned your head to the side to see the vacant space where the sixth harbinger had been standing. He’d likely walked off with an annoyed huff of anger. You’d make it up to him later, perhaps by giving him a little reward and an incentive to do better in his mission.

“I heard you struck a deal with the geo archon to help us secure this, a contract to end all contracts of you will. May I ask if it was worth it?” There was a hunger in his eyes. Not for battle, no, you’d seen that before on the battlefield as you’d watched him with his notorious killing tactics. It was for something else, something more carnal.

“Of course. It was very much worth it. We are now one step closer to achieving our goals.” You noticed how Childe’s gaze gravitated towards your smile. It made you want to pull him close and bury yourself in his chest, to absorb his comforting scent. But, alas, you couldn’t. It would be unseemly for you, the Tsaritsa, to give in to such desires to one of your harbingers.

“Tartaglia, I have a proposition for you if you feel like taking it.” Screw the opinions of others, nobody would have to know if you just kept it a secret.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, curiosity glinting in them. “What could it be?”

“How would you like to develop our relationship a little further than what it is already? We’re archon and harbinger, but we could be so much more.” Your stomach flipped as you waited for his response. Would he even agree to it? You wouldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to, but a little spark in you wanted to simply use your power to command him to.

Tartaglia stepped up into the top of the dais where your throne sat, tilted your chin up so you could look nowhere but into his ocean eyes, and brought his face incredibly close to yours. “I would love to.”

[tsarisfanfiction]

Can I request IR responding to an incident at TI to rescue one of the brothers (Scott - because we love him, but we also love to hurt him)?

Inspection Day Gone Wrong

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort Characters: Scott, Virgil, Gordon

Scott's visits to TI were never a secret, but security was supposed to be stringent enough that that wouldn't cause problems. @sicktember prompt 6: Nebulizer

I had a lot of fun coming up with this one, especially because I didn't want to do the obvious cop out of "asthma", and realised about halfway through plotting that it also filled an earlier prompt in my inbox - although this is also a fun prompt with many possibilities so I might poke at it again at some point - maybe even a companion pov piece to this one, if muses co-operate.

Sicktember 2021 Prompts - Somehow we’re most of the way through the month and I still have ones in my inbox. I’ve added a list of what’s been done already and what’s sitting as a not-yet written request to the original prompt post if anyone wants to pick any of the remaining prompts, and yes, the alt. prompts are also fair game!

Scott didn’t consider himself to be a businessman, not really. A pilot, yes. Leader – commander – also yes. Businessman? By necessity only. He didn’t have John’s head for data, or Dad’s sixth sense for good deals, but regardless he’d inherited the family business and there was no choice except to make it work.

It hadn’t been smooth sailing, not by a long shot, but somehow he’d eventually wrestled control over the company, including the board of directors, and turned the whole thing into something he could handle, with the help of several sleepless nights and too much caffeine at times.

Part of Scott’s approach was very hands’ on. He’d never been someone to direct from afar when he could throw himself into the thick of things, and that extended towards keeping Tracy Industries running smoothly. People appreciated a CEO who acknowledged their existence and made efforts to connect – or at least, that was Scott’s understanding, based on his own experiences – so whenever IR allowed, he made sure to drop by their buildings in person at least once a month.

Today he was in the heart of it all, in New York where their international HQ was located. Specifically, he was there to visit the R&D labs and see in person what the schematics and holograms he’d been sent looked like in reality. While that was usually Virgil’s domain, Scott definitely held a degree of fascination for what was being made – combined with the fact that the R&D department were the effective future of the business, he always loved his visits to them.

His visits were never a surprise, as such, although often last-minute and not officially announced, and wide-eyed new employees always hovered in his periphery as he spoke to familiar faces about familiar projects. It was second nature by now to log the new faces so he could find them if he had time once his official business was over and get to know them. Beyond, that, however, he rarely gave the new faces a second thought while talking with the department’s supervisor about prototypes and the potential flaws that needed addressing.

That meant that he missed the way one set of eyes watched him slightly differently, narrowed instead of wide as he passed their owner’s workstation. Even if he’d seen it, his immediate reaction would have been that he was being assessed – again, not a particularly uncommon reaction, if most frequently found amongst older members of staff who initially failed to see how a young pilot could keep the business booming.

With the intensive background checks run on all the employees, and TI’s strict security measures, the idea of one of their hired workers wishing him ill just wouldn’t have registered.

Scott was looking over some of the wiring being prepared for a new plane model when the lab exploded.

Bodies were sent sprawling, hurtled by the shockwave as debris from both the building and the now-ruined prototypes hailed down on the unfortunate victims. Liquid splashed out from vats, hissing violently as it made contact with the bare skin of the researchers not prepared to deal with it. Dust hung menacingly in the air, unnaturally still compared to the shock of the explosion, and after a moment or two Scott pulled himself back to his feet somewhat unsteadily.

One arm had received a soaking from whatever had been in the nearest vat, contents now splattered about everywhere except inside the remains of what had once been said vat. His shirt was ruined, torn ragged and a little bloodstained where debris had gouged him in passing while little holes appeared in the fabric itself. Where the liquid touched his skin, it burned red and hissed a little menacingly.

Scott’s first thought was that it hurt more than it had any right to.

His second was that he had to get everyone out.

Barring his arm, he was miraculously rather unscathed. Covered in dust that tickled his throat and made him cough like a chain smoker, but unscathed.

He wasn’t really a businessman, but he was a first responder. While admittedly usually not caught up in the initial disaster, he knew exactly what needed to be done.

Evacuation. Triage the victims and make sure everyone got out safely. Easier said than done, true, but certainly possible. It helped that already all eyes seemed to be searching for him, knowing that they had the commander of IR with them.

It was difficult to speak with the dust clogging up his airways and forcing him into wheezing rasps rather than anything particularly clear, but Scott dragged himself up off the floor and used a combination of choked words and body language to direct them.

His right arm didn’t want to move, and part of Scott was trying to remember what had been in the vats. Vision blurred sporadically, once or twice blinking into darkness entirely for several long moments, but he ignored that.

In all honestly, his vision wasn’t the only thing blurring and occasionally vanishing entirely. His awareness was likewise fading threateningly before returning with enough of a vengeance to direct the next group of shaken and bruised but not otherwise hurt employees to the emergency assembly point in the parking lot.

Some words of concern were thrown his way but he waved them off, redirecting them towards the panicked or injured employees. He was, if not fine, in a reasonable condition and most importantly, trained for this.

Even if he didn’t actually remember getting most of them out, let alone himself. Autopilot engaged, overriding pain and exhaustion and ignoring the hacking coughs, and every time he blinked he seemed to be somewhere else entirely.

The floor started to waver, tossing him from side to side and forcing him to his knees as he scrambled futilely through the remains of the R&D department, hunting for more employees to rescue and haphazardly poking out into the assembly point long enough to deposit the injured and head back inside.

“Mr Tracy!”

They hadn’t yet learnt that Mr Tracy was Dad. Scott was just plain old Scott, and the sharp pain in his heart whenever the title came out rammed itself sharply next to all the previous occurrences.

He ignored the calls. There were still people trapped, still people in need of extraction and rescue, and Scott couldn’t let down a single one. No matter what.

Even if his vision was greying more and more with every passing moment, his lungs were hacking themselves up fiercely, and his arm was screaming.

Even then.

Suddenly there were arms around him – strong, familiar arms midway between a support and a restraint. He didn’t remember them appearing, didn’t remember hearing anything of the kind approach, but they took his weight until his back was pressed against something soft and caring, legs sprawled out limply in front of him where he sat – whenever he’d sat down.

Something jammed its way past his lips, awkward and tasting just like hospital-grade disposable plastics.

There was a voice by his ear, warm breath tickling the skin that made up the shell. One large hand pressed against his chest, pulling him back against a strong body and preventing him from dragging himself back into the danger zone.

“Scott!” He knew that voice, just like he knew the arms and body encapsulating his own. The designation escaped him, though, much like his vision had been doing. “Scott, I need you to take a breath, okay? As deep as you can for me.”

He was supposed to be the one giving out the orders, not the one on the receiving end.

“Scott,” the voice repeated again, stubborn and broadcasting its determination. Despite himself, Scott relaxed. “Scott, take a breath.”

Something about the voice washed over him reassuringly, coaxing his lungs into doing their job, and he instinctively obeyed, taking in a sharp breath.

It tasted wrong and he hacked out a startled cough as something that wasn’t just air hit the back of his throat.

“Again,” the voice told him. “Deep as you can, Scott.”

Scott didn’t want to waste time on this when he had employees to save, but the arms around him kept him thoroughly pinned in place.

“Everyone’s out,” the voice promised. “You got them all out, Scott, and they’re all being checked over.” There was something heavy in the tone, almost exasperated but too fond for that. Worried, maybe. “Now, breathe for me?”

There was no resisting the plea.

Prepared for the weird taste this time, Scott took another, more cautious, breath. Something in front of his face – the same thing jammed between his teeth? - made a mechanical rattle and clank sound.

“That’s right, big brother,” the voice praised. “Just like that. Do it again?”

The taste was still off somehow. Scott didn’t know why, couldn’t work out what it was supposed to be, but he took another cautious breath, and then another as footsteps padded into earshot.

“How is he?” a new voice asked.

“Not entirely unconscious,” the voice by his ear replied as Scott took another breath, something now niggling at his thoughts. “Hopefully he didn’t inhale too much of the acid.”

Acid?

His arm throbbed.

“How’s everyone else?”

“Shaken, a few acid burns on the guys near Scott. Some broken bones and concussions from the debris. Kayo’s on the warpath.”

A resigned sigh from the body behind him reverberated through his shoulder blades. “Only Kayo?”

“For now.” Scott couldn’t tell if those words were a threat or a promise.

Taking another strange-tasting breath, he tried to focus on who was with him. Eyelids he didn’t remember closing reluctantly lifted again, drooping with the effort and only returning blurred visuals.

Blue and yellow greeted him.

“Hey, Scotty,” the second voice chirped, a soft edge to the otherwise harsh sound. “He’s opened his eyes, Virg.”

“Good,” the first voice replied.

Virg.

Virgil.

His brother’s hand was rubbing firmly across his chest, wrinkling the fabric there as he did so.

Virgil hadn’t been there earlier, Scott was certain. Blue and yellow had to mean Gordon, and the family fish hadn’t been there, either.

He blinked, trying to clear his vision. The shape of his second youngest brother swam into view.

Why are you here? he tried to ask, but whatever was in his mouth muffled all the words.

“Don’t try to talk,” Virgil scolded lightly. One of his arms tightened its grip. “Focus on breathing; you breathed in some acidic fumes while in the danger zone and we need to get that neutralised as fast as possible.”

So that was why the air tasted odd.

Slowly taking stock of the situation, Scott obediently took a few more breaths, hearing the gadget in his mouth rattle with each one.

“That’s right,” his brother encouraged. “As deep as you can.”

Scott’s next inhale had him coughing, and the plastic between his teeth was yanked away before he could choke on it.

“Maybe not that deep,” Gordon commented. He still looked blurry, but Scott could make out the worry etched into his face despite the quips.

After a moment, Virgil replaced what had to be a nebuliser, and Scott took a slightly shallower breath without waiting to be prompted.

He still had questions – why had the lab exploded, were the employees going to be alright, how were Virgil and Gordon there – but it was clear his brothers wouldn’t be letting him talk any time soon.

Still, the future would hold the answer to all those questions and more. If he’d heard correctly, Kayo was already on the case, and while he hadn’t been mentioned, Scott was certain John was, too. He’d get answers as soon as one of them came into the picture.

In the meantime, exhausted, and still a little groggy, Scott allowed himself to sag bonelessly against Virgil’s powerful chest – just for now, he told himself – and tried to ignore the throbbing of his presumably acid-burnt arm as he breathed in the neutralising particles.

[peralta-guaranteed]

hc of jake and amy hand holding before dating (i’m convinced they did a few times before they ever dated) and also in the beginning of their relationship + getting teased by the squad 🥰

(this has definitely turned out far more emotional than you’d probably thought, anon, but I don’t make the rules when it comes to fic inspiration)

Amy Santiago is sitting in a booth at Shaw’s, laughing at something one of her friends has said, and she feels a warm hand slip into hers under the table. Jake Peralta is laughing next to her, too, but then he’s also smiling at her only, and his hand wrapped around hers squeezes three times. It hits her like a brick to the face, those three little squeezes. She finally understands them.

-*-

He’s lying in a hospital bed, and Amy thinks she’s never seen something more unsettling than a quiet Jake Peralta. The only sound in the room is the beeping of some monitors he’s hooked up to, and the only movement is his chest rising slow and steady. Something it didn’t do about two hours ago, when she was kneeling over him in some alley and screaming while the medics finally arrived and brought him back. It was a fairly ‘minor’ injury in the end, one bullet wound that the doctor’s had to close up, but it had hit some sort of vein that was important and that lost a lot of blood and that stopped his heart for the few moments she remembers stretching like hours in her mind. She doesn’t remember much else, especially not the medic’s or doctor’s explanations. They’d taken her along in the ambulance, because she was his partner, and she was allowed to sit in the hospital room he was recovering in now, because she was his emergency contact, too. She could’ve been nothing after today. Because the bullet from that gun wasn’t aimed at Jake before he pushed her to the side.

Amy looks down at her hands, folded in her lap, pinching each other to remind her she’s awake, she’s here, and so is Jake. Not awake, but here. Still here. They’re squeaky clean, her hands, because she’s spent a good fifteen minutes in the hospital public toilets scrubbing them free of his blood after he was rushed into surgery and she was left behind, alone in the waiting room, her sensible grey pantsuit coloured red all over her arms. She had a list of things to do in her head - contact Captain McGintley to follow the chain of command, and Terry so something would actually get done. Figure out how and who can transport Peralta home and take care of him, if he gets to go home. (He will. He has to. She will take him.) Call Rosa to find out if they booked the perp properly, and that they add assault with a deadly weapon to his rep sheet (not murder, although that’s what he did, that’s what happened). But she couldn’t do any of that, because she was still shaking, her heart was still racing, and all she could see was his blood on her hands, warm and sticky and dark and drying into a rotten brown shade already. So she washed them clean, and then scrubbed some more, and some more, until she felt as red and raw as the wound in his chest had looked in the ambulance when they got his shirt off. (The jacket of her suit is rotting away in the toilet trashcan now, and she’s shivering ever so slightly in only her short-sleeved blouse, but it is clean and there is not a hint of Jake’s injury anywhere anymore, except in his gaunt cheekbones and the pale colour of his face, and the silence of the room.) His hand twitches while she’s staring at her own, and if it’s instinct or reflex of whatever that makes her reach out and grab it immediately, she doesn’t care. His hand is warm under hers, and it twitches again and then wraps its fingers around her and holds her, steady and calm. He blinks awake, a little disoriented, but then he focuses on her and - smiles.

“You’re okay.” He says, and that’s what breaks her in the end.

She doesn’t outright sob or anything, but she does let her head drop so her hair is hiding her face, hiding the tears he doesn’t need to see first thing after waking up from literal death. She feels his hand pull on her to make her look at him, though, and she can’t deny him, even if her tear-streaked face is probably not a good view.

“Hey, no- don’t-” He rasps, his voice still coming back, “I’m okay too.”

She laughs through her tears, a short little snort, but it helps calm her down - and him too, it seems, because he smiles again.

“You’re far more than just okay, Peralta.” She smiles back, and feels his hand tighten around hers, three little, but distinct squeezes.

-*-

She shouldn’t feel this nervous. She’s a cop, a detective. A good one. She’s done this before, and it’s never been nice, but it’s always something she’s gotten through.

But she fears tomorrow’s court date more than anything else in her life right now, which is why she’s trying to drown the thought of it at Shaw’s. The hangover will probably not be helpful with her witness statement that could possibly make or break this ruling, but her panic demands more alcohol. However, the next beer she orders at the bar is intercepted by a larger, more calloused hand than hers.

“Alright, Santiago, that last one was your sixth, and I really don’t need to deal with Seven Drink Amy tonight.” Jake says as he settles down next to her, hands the beer over to Rosa, who leaves them alone at the bar before Amy can whine and complain.

“I need that drink, Jake. It’s my only friend right now.” 

“We both know that’s just Six Drink Sadmy speaking.” He pats her arm as she spreads out over the slightly sticky bartop and whines some more.

“You’re worried about tomorrow.” He continues, reading her thoughts like he sometimes does, which is such an annoying thing he can do. His hand is still on her arm. “You don’t have to be.”

“That girl’s entire life is at stake. And the gang boss is going to kill me and her if he gets off-”

“He’s not going to get off. Not if you tell them exactly what you told the lawyers taking your written statement.”

“Says you.”

“Says Sofia.” There’s a weight to those words that hits her stomach, and it’s only partially the fact that a damn defense attorney is on her side. The other part of why those words from the woman Jake started dating just recently hurt her, she doesn’t want to think about. “Look, I’m gonna drive you home, you’re gonna take a hot shower to detox, then you’re gonna get your perfect 8 hours of sleep, show up at court tomorrow in your best, darkest pant suit, and rock this like you rock everything else.” His hand has wandered down her arm to her hand, now, flips it over to hold it, and it’s pure coincidence that their fingers spread and interlock, surely. “Okay?” He asks one more time, and she sighs.

“Teddy can pick me up-”

“Teddy’s at that conference, remember.”

Oh, right. Something that had been lost to memory between drink three and four, the fact that her boyfriend had booked himself into a seminar the week the court date was announced. It’s a really good one, he’d said, if she wasn’t already busy he would’ve asked her to join, too. Already busy. Regular Amy doesn’t get punchy a lot, and maybe it’s her closeness to Seven Drink Amy right now that makes her want to knock him out for that, but she felt that way when she helped him pack his luggage two days ago too, and she was stonecold sober then.

“Okay.” She nods and tries to get off of the barstool, wobbles quite heavily. “Take me home, Peralta.”

He snorts a laugh and obviously swallows down some sort of joke as he pulls her into a standing position, their hands still locked together. She thinks she imagines it at first, but even after she’s sobered up the next day, she remembers those three short, tight, almost painful squeezes before he let go and steered her to his car.

She doesn’t have much time to think about it, or about how she basically held hands with her best friend while both of their partners were out of town, either. Or how he helped her into her apartment and waited until she was showered and had downed some water and aspirin before tucking her into bed. She can’t think about any of that, because she has to get ready for court.

And when she sits down in the witness’ chair, the gang boss on the bench before her staring her down with murder in his eyes, she notices a set of dress blues in the otherwise thin crowd of people who were allowed in to watch the trial. Three rows down, Jake gives her a silent thumbs up when their eyes meet, and she feels the phantom of his hand again, squeezing hers three times before she begins to speak.

-*-

They’re gonna die. She’s certain. They’re gonna die in here, in this cramped little closet, wedged between some industrial shelving and a broken down sink.

Jake had pulled her in and locked the door behind him, squished her against the wall and himself against the door, and killed the radio on her shoulder as well as his own. The last thing they’d heard crackling through it was “four officers down”. Someone had fallen behind her when she ran for safety, and for a second she thought it had been Jake. That he was standing here now, almost pressed against her in the tight space she would usually panic in, that she could feel his erratic breath on her ear, his racing heart under her hands, was pretty much the only comfort she had left.

She wonders how long it’ll last.

The mission had been an absolute bust. They had expected a gang. They had not expected a well-armed mafia. And now officers were wounded, or dead, and they couldn’t use their radio to find out anything, for fear of being discovered. She can hear gunshots and shouts from further away, and it’s only her paranoia that make them sound as if they're getting closer, but Jake is listening just as intently. Amy thinks of Rosa and Charles, who were on the other side of the building. She thinks of Terry, who’s probably trying to reach any of them by radio from his station in the surveillance van. She thinks of Holt, and can’t see where he might be right now, still next to Terry or commanding whatever backup might be coming in or-

She feels Jake’s hand wrap around hers, still pressed against his chest, and realises that she’s been hyperventilating. If she gets any louder, she’ll give away their position. His forehead against hers is cold, colder than he usually is, clammy with sweat, but the simple pressure of it helps her focus. She can hear him breathe deep, slow, exaggerated, and understands that he’s doing it for her. He probably thinks she’s having a panic attack because of her claustrophobia, or maybe all things at the moment combined. He’s not that far off. She breathes with him, feels the air from their exhales swirl between the few spaces were they don’t connect. There aren’t many. If she looks up, she could kiss him. She’s not quite that sure that she’s going to die in here anymore, but she would definitely hate herself if she did and never found out what that felt like, or if her last kiss on Earth was really from Teddy the night before they broke up. But when she moves her head, she meets his eyes instead, pupils blown wide in the darkness around them. He looks scared and terrified, and his heart under their combined hands is still racing, and the last thing he needs is for Amy to confuse him before they go out in a hail of bullets, action-movie-style, which he’d probably love if it wasn’t so real right now. She wants to say something, anything to calm him down, but she can’t speak, and not just because there are footsteps approaching outside their door.

She feels his hand tighten around hers, three times, faster than before. And then he pulls her into a close hug when the door behind his back opens to reveal blinding light, and she realises he’s shielding her, has been ever since he pushed her first into this storage space. He only lets go when they both hear Terry’s voice, and the Captain’s, the first telling them they are safe, the second immediately trying to update them on the situation with the SWAT team. He holds her hand a second longer than the rest of her, and the three squeezes that follow are far softer and slower than the ones before.

-*-

Amy Santiago and Jake Peralta are sitting in a booth at Shaw’s, laughing at something one of their friends has said, and she feels his hand slip into hers under the table. For only a split second, she’s tempted to pull her hand away. It’s still so new and shaky and unsure, their whole thing, yet at the same time it isn’t. It’s been growing for so long, between them and around them, it feels like it’s always been there. But the rest of the squad is still pulling excited faces whenever they get a little closer, Charles still squeals at every mention of their ‘evenings together’, and Rosa has rolled her eyes so hard she almost strained a muscle the first time she heard Amy refer to Jake as ‘babe’ in front of her. It’s all a little bit embarrassing, and sometimes she wishes they’d stuck to just one of their rules, of not telling anyone until they figure it out. But then she wonders, what was there left to figure out? She was with Jake, and she wanted to be with Jake, and deep down, she could see none of that change at any point in time. Forever, possibly.

Charles is still talking, riding the wave of getting their laugh, but then Jake’s smiling at her only, and his hand wrapped around hers squeezes three times. It hits her like a brick to the face, those three little squeezes. She finally understands them. She remembers them from before, from tense moments and situations of fear, from where he’s been there for her at the worst parts. Holding on tight and feeling the three little bursts of pressure, only wondering a long time later if he did it on purpose, or if it was some sort of reflex.

She feels it again now, and she can finally hear it.

I. Squeeze. Love. Squeeze. You. Squeeze.

[leviiattacks]

Two Faced | Chapter Eight

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it’s all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared, for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au ??? (at this point idek) angst, fluff, slice of life etc ?? word count :: 4.8k author note :: i’ve been very ill so yeah, not the best writing but i really can’t go that long without wanting to write so i ended up writing an update, i hope you enjoy it, it’s longer than usual :D sorry for any mistakes it hasn’t been proof read at all :-( → next part coming soon!!

“Hey, newbie you haven't spoke about your home town much have ya?"

You lift your head, verifying Reiner's suspicions with a nod. You recall he's the same distasteful blonde brute who made those snide remarks about Hange. He must be at least a towering six foot if his shadow is able to cover the majority of the Sun's rays from hitting you.

You would maybe bother to give him and his inquiry more attention than you currently are if he hadn't been so unnecessarily impolite during the morning speeches.

Calves yelping in stinging pain from the first tastes of the full time training regime you simply cannot find the effort to strain your mind with small talk.

Temples throbbing it feels as if a sword has been forced through the side of your head,  but that's not it at all. Reiner has thrown a small rock at you and you hear him chuckle under his breath.

Twisting your position so you face him you glare in displeasure.

Although you don't particularly enjoy the idea of joining Levi's unit and having to become a concealed agent of sorts you can't really take your pickings at how it is you wish to survive. You're going to have to deal with it and you've come to the stage of acceptance now.

However, you are not willing to respect the attitude some of these cadets are giving you, it's clear there's already a strong hierarchy in place.

Reiner just so happens to be one of the big guns from what you've been able to observe. He possess strong upper body strength and his hand to hand combat isn't a laughing matter either. That means he's higher up in the ladder of cadets, that's for sure. To top it all off you know you're not as powerful as other members in the team in terms of skill and he's probably silently making a mockery of you for it.

Pursing your lips you decide to play this game cautiously, asking him what it is he needs from you isn't the best option. You're aware he's after something, it's written all over his face. You practically know every deceptive look in the book off by heart. You suppose it's the only perk you got out of living in a noble household for most of your life.

"Why do you care?" You bluntly question him.

"Ohh, you're feisty. Might not want to butt heads with Annie."

"Not sure who that is but I don't plan on it."

Turning away from him it look like you're distracting yourself by collecting pieces of firewood. Trailing around you act as uncaring as possible to annoy him. You need to gauge this man's reaction somehow.

Your plan seems to be working in your favour because you're able to see his footing shift from his natural stance, it looks as if he's about to risk charging at you due to your vulnerable position but you rotate again offering him a knowing smile.

You don't tell him you're conscious of his suspicious nature but if he's quick witted enough he'll be able to figure out you aren't a threat and apparently don't have a clue what it is he's up to. The only reason he'd even consider attacking you would be if he saw you as an issue. For now your act should at least keep him at bay.

"Fine. I'll tell you about my hometown, I'm just..." You pause to make yourself look believable and proceed to look up at him through your lashes, you dart your gaze away and awkwardly scratch the back of your neck exuding coyness.

"I'm incredibly homesick. I miss mother. I always made supper for her, now I can only pray she's not eating burnt chicken." Your act has to be working because his eyes soften and he takes half of the firewood in your arms offering to help you carry it.

"My mum's a great cook, can't relate squirt."

"Who you calling squirt?" You playfully snap back.

"I call everybody that, even Captain Levi... Well, when he isn't around to hear it."

You bite the inside of your cheek at the mention of the Levi's name.

“So you and the Captain? What’s that all about?” His question makes no sense at all, one minute he wants to prod and poke in your personal home life yet the next minute he's asking questions about Levi. The doubts you have surrounding him only thicken.

You take a moment to consider his question,

“Whatever do you mean?” Clueless, you're delivery is excellent. Acting naive is easy enough, everyone within the corps has already decided that's what your automatic disposition is.

Reiner gives you a skeptical look then smiles faintly, “Glaring daggers at Jean after he got handsy with you?”

You cover your mouth with your free hand and laugh so hard the firewood nearly flies out of your grasp.

“Me and Jean are friends, and Levi? He just wanted to find a reason to get mad at us probably.” You hope the explanation suffices because you truly have no idea why Levi had done what he did.

Reiner hums in approval at your answer but he then grins.

“You on first name basis with the Captain?”

Fuck, you called him Levi.

Play it cool.

“Huh? When have I ever said his first name?” Clueless. Your delivery is still perfect.

“Just now.” He fires back, Reiner doesn't seem to be letting up but he doesn't know how smooth of a liar you are.

Living with your father for all those years conditioned you in ways you hadn't even noticed until quite recently.

“Did I? Pardon, I didn’t mean for it to slip out. Sometimes I silently curse him out in my head and forget to add his title.”

Your acting is impeccable, Reiner has no reason to doubt you. As you expect he doesn't instead he shifts the conversation to his hometown, just like you he doesn't explicitly mention a name. Reiner is sharp but he hasn't noticed the way you've left a name out just like him. He's terrible at catching out his own kind.

You decide at that moment that Reiner Braun is a liar. The accusation is more of a hunch meaning more investigation is required.

You won't inform any of the higher ups about it just yet.

The walk back to base is filled with excruciatingly troublesome small talk and you make a mental note to take Mikasa along with you next time it's your turn retrieve the firewood.

You can't afford any more close encounters with Braun or any of his possible accomplices.

Sniggers batter your ears as soon as you step foot onto the grounds, you have a sixth sense when it comes to spiteful bad-mouthing and after the abysmal day you've had you anticipate there will be unpleasant commentary.

"Seen the way Y/N ruined the assault course today?"

"We're the finalized cadets across all the regions of Paradis. That means we have to rely on that embarrassment to fight titans."

"Good Lord, someone have mercy on our souls."

Fellow cadets press on in their criticism thinking you aren't within earshot. That, or they purposefully aim for you to pay attention to the disapproval they have of your presence.

But, you do understand where they're coming from. You make another mental note - practice a bit more later today.

The gossiping isn't anything you're unfamiliar with, your father's palace never offered kindness to you or your existence. In fact it's rather comforting being talked badly about behind your back.

That statement sounds absurd but you can't explain it. Maybe it's due to Levi typically hurling his unnecessary remarks right at you without warning. Then again he does provide everyone with that treatment, even Commander Erwin.

As you hurry away increasing the distance between you and your loud mouthed team members you spot Levi from the corner of your eye. He's in conversation with Hange but you notice how his jaw is clenched in frustration, you feel a pinch over your skin when he spares you a fleeting look. Eyes acquainting yours. Paying  no attention to him you walk away as fast as you can.

The cadets only blow up in volume now, they definitely want you to hear what they have to say.

"Maybe we should ask the higher ups to throw her ou-"

"Questioning authority? Pesky mutineers aren't you?" Levi's booming voice shakes anyone within a five metre vicinity, he comes out of nowhere and seems nothing short of furious.

"You're all," He continues, voice rising, "Incredibly spineless aren't you?"

One of the cadets embellishes their face with a scowl, it doesn't go unnoticed by Levi but he astonishingly doesn't lash out, physically at least. His deathly glare is more than enough to finish the job.

Stupidly you suffer feeling your heart palpitate in your chest watching him talk to the group of three. Stupidly, you're getting your hopes up again.

He scoffs coldly, "If you're all talk why not offer to duel her?"

It doesn't take long for your heart to stop throbbing with its previous intensity. You know it was too good to be true. Levi suddenly defending you that is.

The gesture isn't done to protect or shield you. No, you're sure this man loathes you and is intending to persist on making your life as bleak and dreary as possible.

"Up to a battle Y/N?" The unnamed blonde cadet's scoffs in derision and you find yourself wanting to punch her square in the jaw.

Irritation sears through you but you meekly shake your head mumbling a weak "No thanks.", you're much too afraid to duel anyone just yet and you don't remember her from the training sessions. She must have been in a corner keeping to herself.

With all that being said and done you pathetically withdraw, and just like the past few days you sense Levi's piercing gaze erupting into your soul.

The blistering Sun hits every nook and cranny of the training ground. Waking up early already has you wanting to pass out and the heat isn't any help.

The crowd of cadets mumble in fatigue but observant Mikasa jabs you in the shoulder pointing out how far away Jean has stood from you.

You feel guilty that Jean had to suffer through the humiliation tossed at him yesterday but you are grateful to not deal with his constant questioning and talkative self this early in the morning.

All the way at the other side of the throng of soldiers he stands with Bert, who might you add is a mammoth of a man.

Through some digging (more like asking Mikasa) you've discovered he's close with Reiner and the blonde cadet from yesterday's confrontation, turns out she's the Annie that Reiner warned you off.

"ATTENTION!" Hange sing songs at the front of the training ground. They're jumping around along with Squad Leader Mike checking if everyone's in the correct uniform - Apparently the year prior a cadet showed up wearing a thick cardigan and fainted from heat stroke...

“Today’s exercise is a time to redeem yourself!” Hange’s eyes dart towards you and you smile at one another.

“A FIGHT TO THE DEATH!”

Everyone murmurs looking at each other in pure confusion.

“A fight up against another person. Whoever wins their individual fights will receive extra special privileges." The explanation seems simple enough and you’re confident that if you’re put up against the right people you can make it out safe.

The promise of a reward is also enticing.

The 104th Training Corps are thrilled, there’s nothing too hazardous about the task and it’s nothing difficult to ask for. Even you’re looking forward to it. The chance to rescue your reputation has you pumped up with adrenaline.

“My, my my. Don’t excite yourselves just yet little hens, there’s a pretty little catch.” Hange's voice is laced in mischief. This can't be any good.

Everyone stops breathing in unison and it’s pin drop silent.

“You must cause harm to your opponent in some way. Whether it be making them faint, breaking an arm, breaking a leg. There are no rules when it comes to playing dirty!”

With a playful shrug of their shoulder Hange hops off the podium.

Squad Leader Mike pulls out the list of competitors. He’s decided the line-up on his own and begins the announcement with Bertholdt.

“BERTHOLDT HOOVER..."

Bert turns to look back at Reiner hesitantly and for such a giant it’s adorable how worried he is when everyone else is perturbed thinking about the poor individual who has to go up against him.

"AGAINST Y/N L/N!"

The crowd falls silent and your mouth is wide, this is unjust there’s no way this is allowed.

“Hey, don’t you think that’s kinda unfair?” Krista speaks out for you even though Ymir is by her side trying to talk her out of getting involved.

“She stands no chance against him.” Reiner is supporting your cause too.

Mikasa takes a step forward. “I agree, it’s not right, may I take her place instead?”

“No, no! It’s alright, I’ll go for it.”

Honestly you don’t want the corps to see you as a coward. Bravery and courage is what brought everyone here. Your story is different. You’re here to selfishly save your own life, you aren’t anywhere near as valiant as the rest of them. The very least you can do is partake in activities correctly.

Stepping up to the podium you stand by Bertholdt he gives you a pitiful look whilst he mutters an apology.

Mike continues announcing the names. A few include Jean against Mikasa (Jean may as well forfeit), Marco against Annie and Connie against Reiner - that pairing eases you. At least you aren't in this alone. You and Connie stand no chance against those beasts.

Everyone lines up in their separate areas and again Bertholdt is profusely apologizing asking if you want to fake faint or anything of the sort. You shake your head and promise to give it all you've got.

And then the games begin at the sound of the bell, and damn that Bertholdt because he isn't keeping to his end of the bargain. He lunges forward viciously aiming to crush your entire body but you swiftly dodge, he tries the same approach but when you duck out of the way again he stops knowing he needs to rethinks his strategy.

"Just give it up I'll win either way."

Well, the Mister nice guy act was definitely a believable performance. He was so convincing you even contemplated feigning unconsciousness when he proposed the idea to you.

Bertholdt is much slower than you giving you more time to deliberate your incoming moves. If you can get him to edge close enough to a nearby tree and deceive him into colliding with the oak trunk you should win - only on the condition that he passes out.

The scheme is far-fetched but it's your only hope.

Dashing from various corners he flies after you, each time unable to catch up to you.

That is until you stumble and lurch to the ground. The wind is knocked out of your lungs and you panic when a large hand clutches at your ankle. Your solution? Booting him right in the teeth.

However with an earth-shattering amount of force Hoover's hold on your ankle doesn't weaken. Instead he tightens his hold like a vice. You feel it bruise and the violet discoloration that'll be present in a few hours makes you wince.

Entire body going limp on command, you stop yourself from breathing - another talent you picked up back at the palace to avoid extra beatings.

When you no longer thrash around Bertholdt stalks in to check in on you and as expected he’s now towering over you, blood overflowing in terror.

"SQUAD LEADER HANGE, CAPTAIN LEVI SHE'S NOT MOVING!" He's roaring for their help frantic and anxious. If he's caused any permanent damage he's as good as dead meat.

"Oh my Lord. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

Bertholdt's voice is fractured in unadulterated horror and judging by the direction you hear it at he has to be facing away from you.

Unbolting your eyes you learn your assumption is correct and despite hurried footsteps being within audible range you take your chance by the reigns.

Leaping to your feet and with no forewarning you swing your leg to the back of his neck. Stunned by the surprise attack he falls to his knees and you situate yourself in front of the oak tree you've been eyeing from the time the exercise began.

"You cunning bitch." Staggering back up he makes a swift rebound. At this point all mercy has left him and his one true aim is to completely pulverize you.

Everything is falling into place. All you need to do is wait for the right moment and finally you come across it when he suddenly pounces for you. Darting to the left you leave the space open for your prey.

Poor Bertholdt falls right into the palm of your hands like a rag doll. His momentum can't be controlled and he smashes headfirst into the trunk with a loud crunch sounding out. Bark splits and scrapes off the tree upon impact.

His head has to throb and you don't want to imagine how painful it is to feel the rivulets of soreness.

He doesn't get up and only groans, you feel half bad but after the tricks and antics he pulled you come to the conclusion that it's all deserved.

"Well, Y/N, you've proven yourself to be quite quick witted." Hange's praise is strange to hear but you beam proud that you've proven your worth.

"Oi, don't get ahead of yourself." Levi orders. "It could have been pure luck."

In spite of Levi's pessimism you bask in the glory of your win.

A week into joining Levi's unit you're becoming more accustomed to the new environment, in fact the gossiping and horrible rumours stop completely after your win and interactions with your fellow comrades feel easier and lighter.

You think the taunts will have only got more relentless after the duel fiasco but you suppose Annie chose to be considerate and take pity on you.

"Your progress has been remarkable so far." You jump when you hear Jean's deep voice appear right next to you.

Looking around to see if any other cadets are around you finally release a breath you didn't even know you were holding in.

"Ah. Thank you." You murmur quietly.

"I know it's been a week since I was scolded by the Captain but this won't count as flirting will it?"

Impeding the one sided conversation you're reflecting, you're not sure what exactly about. Probably whether or not you should maintain the discussion - if it can even be referred to as such.

Forget it. You know what they say, you only live once.

Flicking his forehead you roll your eyes, "We were never flirting he's just an over dramatic, bitter hag. I put my money on the fact he's never felt the touch of a woman before."

Jean's eyes widen in disbelief, you half expect he'll split open in tremendous laughter but he looks terrified. Then you become conscious of the fact he's not even staring at you, his eyes are engrossed by whatever is behind you.

Unfortunately for you your body tells you all you need to know. His cologne floods into your nostrils, you can't even reassure yourself and pretend it's anyone else, you know he's the only one who smells that strongly of fresh linen.

Being unable to see him doesn't stop you from imagining his dark lifeless eyes accompanying themselves with what is before them.

It doesn't even take Jean a minute to abandon you, he breaks out into an awkward smile, hurriedly pats your shoulder before dashing away, dispersing all the way to the other end of the hallway in a matter of seconds and turning the corner away from you.

Heart rate soaring you hesitantly spin on your heel. Levi's stood there, looking beyond unimpressed.

You intend to breeze past him, cool and collected. You take a step forward but God has never been one to bless you with luck, stumbling and tripping over thin air lands you flying.

Ready for impact you brace yourself but it never comes, instead solid hands are firmly placed at the small of your back steadying your position and your palms have unceremoniously landed atop his torso.

"Play along." Levi's voice is low and rumbling, and you can't look him in the eyes. Not out of fear or dread, more so exhaustion but you muster the energy to look to your left. There Erwin and Hange stand giggling to themselves like children. As quick as you spot them they vanish in the same fashion. It's as if they were never there.

You're worn out and fatigued wanting nothing more than a good night's rest. If there's one thing you haven't grown used to it's the lack of sleep.

"Let go." Moving to shift his hands away from your waist you halt your movements when he without warning lets go of you, not even giving you the opportunity to renovate your balance.

Flying to the ground and landing with a thud you rub your backside at the blow.

Mirthlessly chuckling the lack of amusement is clear in the way he composes himself.

Making a dash for it sounds tempting but you may as well let him have his way. There's no action you can take to avoid him reprimanding you. It's your fault for having the gall to make that crude and foul-mouthed comment in the first place.

You gulp comprehending the situation is even worse now since you really only said it for the sole reason of Kirstein's amusement.

"Y/N, I'd like to have a word with you."

Hesitantly you look up at Levi, he has an indecipherable expression on his face, it's been a while since you've last been left in his company alone.

The two of you are stood in his office, his desk is flooded with papers, they're haphazardly scattered all over the place and spikes of worry weirdly make them self present in your belly. This isn't right. He'd never leave his work space in this state.

"Are you okay?" You ask it because you’re sure he isn't.

His shoulders and spine stiffen. "Cut the crap and keep the formalities to yourself." He chides, most definitely defensive in his stance.

Without asking him you shuffle to his desk stacking the papers into organised piles, most of the documents are related to an up and coming expedition and it's all beginning to add up. Even humanities strongest soldier has moments where he cracks.

Then you notice your name on the formation plan but before you're able to make anything out of it Levi snatches it off his desk and away from you stuffing it into his pocket.

Without another sound he observes you cleaning the rest of the mess away but doesn't ask for you to stop. There's no reason for him to.

If you do this maybe he'll go easier on you, yeah that's what your motivation is. That's not exactly the truth, really you're just concerned about whatever has him worked up.

Placing the last document in its rightful place you want to give your mind a moment to recollect itself but Levi doesn't think the same.

He places his arms on either side of the desk, trapping you with no way out. Oddly, there's nothing threatening about him looking down at you this time, the greys and blues of his iris' captivate you.

"Do you enjoy making a mockery of your husband?" The question is whispered. It's unanticipated and the title of husband is uncharacteristic coming out of his mouth.

"It was just a joke." You mumble your answer under your breath.

"Would you have spouted that shit in front of the rest of the unit?"

Mildly shaking your head he then sighs. He’s not angry, he genuinely seems let down.

"Do you prefer him over me?” You swear you hear the faintest hint of self-doubt.

His questions are getting more out of the ordinary by the second and you’re waiting for him to crack a malevolent grin before he ridicules you like he always does.

“Of course I don’t prefer him over you.”

“Prove it.”

Tilting your head up towards him you have no idea what he wants for you to do or say, why does this suddenly even matter to him?

And then you imagine it happen, him digging his hands into your shoulders. Your weight along with his shifting up against the desk making it creak. Your mind details how he would kiss you agitatedly and you flush thinking about how you would feverishly return the favour.

It seems like your imagination predicts the future. He grips your jaw with his hand, his touch isn’t firm and for once it’s quite soft. Relishing in the new experience as he leans in you secure your eyes shut in expectation.

Stroking your cheek with his thumb the warm sensation that courses through your body is rather pleasant. His hands come out to run against your body, pinching the sides of your waist. The motion makes your heart stall for a second. Involuntarily, you find yourself leaning into him.

“This seem like a man who hasn’t felt the touch of a woman before?”

And just like that he leaves you hanging. You flutter your eyes open and there he is. He’s back, the same cynical man, smirk etched onto his features, his body still parallel to yours.

You find yourself enraged at how he's just lead and dragged you on, you should have stuck with your gut feeling and not given into temptation but you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat. It's very obvious who the cat is in this situation.

Brows furrowing you can’t face him ever again after the scalding embarrassment inhabits your abdomen.

"Going to cry, Cadet?" He's pushing all your buttons, eagerly choosing to provoke you.

The frustration you’ve been feeling fills you to the brim and you clamp down on your bottom lip. If you must turn to inflicting harm onto yourself just to muffle the sound of your whimpers you will.

“Did you need to do that?” You choke out your response feeling helpless, still not looking at him.

“Simply gave you a taste of your own medicine.”

Silence.

"Sometimes I wish you killed me back then."

Silver eyes become dark and he visibly flinches at your confession.

Still boxed in-between his arms you attempt to push past but he continues to obstruct the exit. He's not done yet.

"I gave you another chance at life." His blunt one-sided view is about to drive you crazy.

"Within my first day at this unit I had to avoid being attacked by another cadet in the forest if you call that a life I do-"

“Who?”

“Not important."

“If you know what's good for you, you'll spit it out."

For the sole purpose of irking him you heavily shake your head to emphasise your refusal to give in and name the culprit. It's not like you want Reiner to fall into trouble because of you. He hasn't shown any suspicious or out of the ordinary behaviour since then and you worry what Levi is capable of doing when given a reason to hurt someone.

Glancing at him dismissively you try to make your point again. "They haven't done anything since. Therefore, it's of no importance."

Conflicted emotions scurry over his face as he looks at you.

"It's of importance if my wif-" He growls and stops midway. His hands grip onto the desk even harder, knuckles turning white.

Was he about to say, wife?

Levi immediately realizes what he's nearly just said sounds exceedingly questionable. A look of uncertainty flashes over his face and then it seems he loses all regard for self-control. His willpower isn't enough to get him through this situation and he only amplifies.

Encroaching further into the very little space amongst the both of you his tone is icy. "Tell me." He's glowering and for Reiner's wellbeing you decide you should just come out with it now. He'll be in an even more difficult spot if you don't.

"Reiner, it was Reiner." You gasp out the answer, shallow breath ragged. Head turning away to the side you're not particularly sure why you're so shaky and why you feel a tremor flood past you inundating your movement. It may all be a combination of how close he's standing to you and how intoxicatingly strong his aura is.

Or, perhaps it's due to how he nearly referred to you as his wife during his primal outburst of anger.

He turns away. Automatically creating yet another blockade between the two of you.

"You're dismissed."

[toriwakes]

Liquid Luck [Harry Potter x Reader]

summary: harry doesn’t need luck to win you over

content warnings: curses barley

a/n: hello! wrote this out of bordeom tbh...hope u like!! as always let me know if you have any requests!

working with harry in potions never seemed important until sixth year. since everyone worked in pairs and you two have been working together since second year, he let you in on the little secrets his textbook held. you crushed the ingredients instead of cutting, despite hermione’s scolding and were one step closer to finishing the assignment. “look at malfoy.” he whispered. you looked at harry first, confused- then to malfoy and you realized why. his nose was scrunched up i’m frustration, cutting the material. you chuckled with harry but stopped when the blonde’s head shot up to glare at you. he opened his mouth to spit a cruel remark but slug horn was already approaching your table. “let’s have a look shall we?” you and harry shared a look of triumph.

“as i promised, a bottle of felix felicis-“ he placed the bottle in harry’s hand, but harry passed it to you. “to the best performers in class. you are dismissed!” he cheered. you and harry left class feeling rather cocky. “i know you two cheated.” you and harry turned around. of course there was malfoy, hair messy like hermione’s. “we didn’t.” you said, crossing your arms. “you expect me to buy that?” now blaise and goyle joined him. “you don’t need to believe us. it’s okay that you’re jealous that we did better than you.” harry quipped, nudging you as if to say ‘let’s go’. you gave the boys a taunting smile and followed harry.

hermione was fixing her hair in the common room when you two got back. “what room you so long?” ron asked. “malfoy giving us a hard time. says we cheated, but hermione knows that’s not true. right?” everyone’s head turned to hermione, who was already reading up on what she could’ve done wrong. “i suppose not. you were reading right from your book.” she admitted. harry held out a hand, gesturing to hermione. “see? got it fair and square.” you chimed, showing the bottle. “you should put that somewhere safe.” hermione commented. “will do. go on then.” you shooed harry off. when he was out of ear shot, everyone turned to you. “what are you gonna use it for?” ginny inquired. “are you gonna use it to find the right time to ask harry out?” you threw a pillow at ron. “no! we should use it for something important, not something as silly as that.”

but harry was already up in his room, fiddling with the bottle between his fingers. contemplating. should he use it to get a moment with you? he’s had a thing for you since third year and he was bound to burst eventually, why not have luck on his side when he does? unsure, he called for ron. everyone’s eyes went wide; surely he hadn’t heard your conversation? “you tell us everything, understand?”ron rushed up, noting ginny’s command. “yeah?” he said as normally as he could. “come here and shut the door.” harry said nervously. ron, just as nervous as he, took a seat on his bed. “i’m just gonna say it straight up, i have a crush on (y/n). now that that’s out of the way-“ but ron didn’t let him finish. “you have a crush on (y/n)?!” harry covered his best friends big mouth. “yes now hush! look, i was wondering if i should use the potion when i...you know, shoot my shot.” ron thought about it. would he really need it, now knowing that you both liked each other? of course he wanted his best friend to be happy, but a selfish part of ron wanted in on some of the fun. so, he came up with a plan. “no. no, don’t do that. we have a match against slyhterin soon, don’t we?” harry sighed. “yeah. you’re saying we use it for that?” harry wouldn’t lie to himself; he liked the idea of using it to ask you out more than a game of quidditch. “pretty much. and don’t worry about it, i’ve got your girl problem all under control.”

hearing the news made your heart stop. “ronald i am not in the mood to be lied to. are you positive?” you asked again. ron threw his arms to his sides. “yes!! now can i please get ready for my game?” he pleaded. you glared at him. “fine.”

there was tension at breakfast. “good morning everyone.” luna’s dream-like voice appeared. “you look dreadful ron,” she turned to harry. “is that why you put something in his cup?” everyone’s head snapped to harry. “don’t drink it!” hermione advised, but ron was already halfway done with his cup. “you could get in trouble for that.” “i don’t know what you’re talking about.” harry responded. the two boys got up and left, smiles on their faces. half of you was angry that harry used the potion without you. surely he left some for you. “i cant believe them.” hermione shook her head as she continued to eat. “you’ve been dealing with them for six years. you didn’t see this coming?” she laughed, but stopped when she looked at their plates. “they barley even ate anything!”

they showed up and played hard, although it wasn’t needed. ron did amazing and harry caught the snitch like he always did. “you reckon the potion is still in effect?” harry whispered as they changed in the locker rooms. “dunno. why?” harry brushed down his sweater and took in a deep breath. “time to shoot my shot.”

harry found you at the common room party. “hi.” you turned around, your eyes meeting his green ones. “oh, hi! great job today.” you gave hun a friendly pat on the shoulder. “thanks, erm- can i talk to you outside?” your breath hitched. “sure.” you set down your punch and followed him out of the portrait hole, failing to gain the attention of your friends. the moonlight shined into the corridor, lighting up your best friends face. “so..” you started. “(y/n), i need to tell you something.” with a racing heart beat, you half smiled. “yeah?” harry was just was nervous as you, he couldn’t trust that the potion was still working and the back of his head was protesting anyway, telling him he shouldn’t do this. but his heart was louder. “i really like you, (y/n). a lot.” you heart was jumping off the walls- springing side to side and doing a twirl. “harry..” shit. was the potion really gone? “harry i like you too.” guess not.

when you two walked back into the room, ron and lavender were on top of the table, kissing. you two both clapped and harry dragged your hand. “do you-“ “yup.” you cut him off. stepping up as well you cupped harry’s face you crushed your lips together. you felt him smile into the kiss, taking your waist and dipping you and even louder the common room roared. as you stepped down, harry leveled his mouth to your ear. “i guess luck was on my side.” you gasped playfully. “you didn’t need luck, pin head. i’ve fancied you for years.” harry’s eyes bulged out of his head- he wasn’t expecting to hear that. “and you better have saved me some of that potion.”