#I GET TO GO IN THE SAUNA !!!! HALF A YEAR WITHOUT SAUNA IS DEATH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cutegirlmayra · 4 years ago

Note

Modern Sonamy in a life and death this may be the end scenario where Sonic is finally forced to confront his feelings for Amy that he knows have been there for years. He plans to spend their final moments telling her his love but they are saved at the last minute. Afterwards he tries to go back to the usual but realizes he doesn't want to have any regrets and not have Amy know the truth. So he tries to figure out how to to tell her but the message isn't coming across until he gives her a kiss!

Watch Pajama Blogs - Prompt Requests - Ep.1 timestamp: 47:51 to hear my thoughts on this prompt back when I was first thinking about it! (Sometimes my thoughts change, so don’t be too disappointed if my processes changes a bit over time!)

PROMPTS ARE ON SHUTDOWN, so do not submit them until you see the post about the ‘grand reopening’ announcement or see that the ‘ask box’ tells you they are open. THEY ARE NOT OPEN AT THIS TIME.

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Prompt:

The gravel scooted and crumbled away from her hand as Sonic and Amy slammed against the side of the rocky wall, trying to dodge the intense heat of the magma from within Egg-Canyon-Mountain where they were attempting to sneak in and take the Chaos Emeralds back from powering a large and terrible machine.

The Machine right now didn’t matter though, because just before they were to remove them, Tails radioed that the machine was self-destructing, and it was all a trap.

Eggman had fled knowing the Chaos Emeralds would just pulse away from each other and become shooting stars in the daylight sky, and he’d have to find them all over again once the reactor malfunctioned sufficiently enough to flood the canyons with magma.

“Sonic, it’s only rising!” Amy was momentarily kidnapped when trying to reach the machine’s first Chaos Emerald slot, where Eggman used her to force Sonic to battle him and his new incredible robot, but it was all to buy time for his fatal trap.

Laughing as he exited, he dropped Amy and made a snide comment about ‘Dying with the one you love’ being a last mercy he’ll give... to Amy that is.

Even while dangling in the clutches of Eggman’s hovering robot’s metal talons, Amy couldn’t have judged well enough the machine’s overheating and powering up processes. It was truly unexpected, but completely within Eggman’s bounds...

Squished between the rocky layer of steep, vertical terra and a sweating Sonic, Amy was sandwiched between the thought of how they were gonna survive this.

“It’s not as fast as you, though!” She looked back over to him, seeing his eyes were fixated on the molten rock slowly rising to them on the thin strip of raised pathway they had against the side of the canyon, finally having made it out of the caverns...

This didn’t look good... Sonic was hot and panting to keep his body temperature regulated. With some degree of knowledge in health and medicine from treating his wounds and injuries all these years, she could tell he was too hot to run at full speed like usual without the proper coolness to not overheat himself. Not just that... but she was added weight... he’d never be able to scale the mountain’s straight drop at top-speeds if he had to carry her too...

She was nowhere near fat but still... this wasn’t looking too good for her.

Without missing a beat, she finally closed her eyes and pushed her nose to the wall, breathing in a dusty and dirt-filled breath of self-sacrifice and spoke aloud an unforgivable sentence. “If I hadn’t insisted on coming with you... to spend more time with you... in hopes that you would fall more in love with me if I was just as into adventure as you were... then you’d be able to run up this wall and get to the top safely.”

He turned his sights back to her, a frown apparent as she was speaking negatively, and he hated that. “Since when were you doubting?” he was always trying to play it cool, and as she took a sorrowful peek back to him, she couldn’t help but gently smile in her grief at seeing his cheery and confident smile.

“We’ll get out of this.” he assured her, “I need you to hang on, though. No more talk about what should and shouldn’t have happened. Can you get up on my back from here?” He looked back at the rising lava, apparently having a plan now.

She nodded, deciding it best not to bring up the inevitable, since her Sonic could do miracles!

... At least, this time, she couldn’t let him fall to his untimely death because of her persistence...

She spun and he caught her to help her keep balance on the strip and then she tied her arms tightly around his neck as he began to slowly climb.

However, looking down at the speedily approaching magma filling the veins of the large expanse of rock with blood-colored fury and heat, and then looking up to see not a speck of the other side or even the sky as it was just a long, never-ending stretch to half the sky... she felt her heart sinking again.

He really could go faster without her, and looking down again, she saw the strip they were moments ago being pushed up against was now being reached and submerged in the melting rock...

Liquid fire... Was this the story of when Sonic had to face Metal that first time? She remembered him telling the story of reaching for Metal him’s hand before he whacked it aside, refusing to be saved by the one and true hero: Sonic.

There was only ever going to be one Sonic The Hedgehog... but there could be others that would love him just as much... though her grip tightened at admitting it, and ducking her head down, unable to produce tears in the steam of the ripples of heat rising up the cavern.

If they didn’t die of one slip-up or not moving fast enough, they would surely succumb to heat-exhaustion or heat-stroke.

Sonic felt the slight tug on his chin as though her grip around his neck had tightened in a desperate attempt to hold on, and although already straining to climb with someone else and his body feeling like a sauna plus a volcano at his feet, he really didn’t want to believe Amy was giving up on him.

“Amy..!” he called, having an instinct of what she was thinking, “Don’t do it!”

Amy’s head jerked up, “S...Sonic...” She was amazed he had caught on so quickly to her thoughts... her emotions... “B-but,... I-!” she wanted to convince him to let her do it, to let her allow him to run up the rocky wall and save himself.

“We’re getting out of this together or not at all!” he finally blurted out, taking Amy aback as he twitched to reach another hand out for another piece of rock that could be firm enough to give him a sturdy hand-grip. “Erk... ugh... ha... ha... Do me a favor, Amy... ha... umph!” he reached back and threw her up, shocking her as she cried out his name. “And quit acting like we’re dead already!”

She hit against a leveled path that slightly crumbled under her weight, making her kick her legs to scoot quickly back against the wall as Sonic was then able to Spin-Dash to a higher level, reaching down a hand for her. “Hurry!” he called, as she looked back to gasp at the lava not taking any ‘rest-stops’ so to speak. “There might be a cave that tunnels up from here!”

That was a sensationally good idea, except for one problem... if they went back into a tunnel and it went downwards.... then the magma would pinch them in on both sides... and their wouldn’t even be left unmelted fossil remains of them...

But right now, up was good.

She spun around and got up, reaching for his hand and having him struggle to hoist her up as she got her foot on the wall just before the magma rose and splashed against where she was just sitting. “Ah!”

“Amy!!!”

“I-I’m fine.” she squinted an eye as she was grateful the splash didn’t burn her. Her feet were fine, she hadn’t been exposed to it.

He pulled her up and the two just breathed heavily in the others arms a moment.

“You... can out run it... Sonic.” Amy spoke again, only hearing a grunt of annoyance from Sonic as she did so.

“Quit... fooling around... Amy.” his hold on her had loosened so much... she knew he was growing tired. First having snuck in and destroyed some robot scouts on the way down, then Eggman’s battle, and then rushing out before the magma overwhelmed them... Then climbing up such a perilous wall with her on his back... “Do you... see any tunnels..?”

She didn’t even look, she just pulled his forehead to her own, holding it there with her own, sweat-soaked white gloves on either side of his cheeks... saying her farewells in secret. “I know I’ve never voiced it before... but... I...”

Sonic blinked his eyes, before grabbing her arms, their gloves sticking to their skins and making a light blue, see-through effect through the shiny oils on both their exposed skin. Their furs were wetted and they’d be too slippery to attempt to climb again.

This was it.

Sonic lightly moved her to the wall, showing in his face his unbelief at her distrust all of a sudden that he could save them both, but beyond the hurt expression... there was a look she hadn’t fully seen before.

He pinned her slightly as he willingly put his forehead to hers and shut his eyes, trying to keep his breathing normal. “I know.” he stated, then with a shaky voice... “And you’ve always known too.”

She was frozen in that heat-soaked moment... Sonic finally dropping his own tall walls for a brief moment as they could hear the slushing of the magma rising to where they were.

They both looked back, Amy over his shoulder and Sonic to look at the impending doom before them.

“You had to know.” He chuckled out loosely, exhausted now emotionally too, “I gotta at least leave you with some comforting closure.”

“Of that?” Amy thought that the sweetest thing, but also grossly inappropriate for the timing. “Why did you wait till now to tell me?”

“Validate you. I never said anything.” He smirked, even now, trying to keep things light.

She wanted to kiss him, but felt that that would be an even greater sentence, and she’d be framed as the worst timing for romantic advances in history.

Even worse than his...

Sonic smiled to her before something glittery flicked light into his eye and caused him to squint it a few times repeatedly. Turning to find out what the strange source was, the two’s mouths opened at the entrance of a metal bunker impeded into the wall... not seen without the glow of the rising magma.

“An elevator!” The two exclaimed, seeing a mining device next to it. Sonic quickly scooped her up and pushed her in, “Going up!” he pressed the button but she didn’t want to part with him, the Elevator could be slow or worse, the mechanism below could be melted away by now.

“Sonic!” she cried out, agreeing--somewhat--with Eggman that she’d rather die in the arms of her beloved than alone in a small elevator meant for hauling metals up to the top of the canyon. And who knew where this actual thing landed! Maybe it wasn’t the top?

Sonic gave her a thumbs up and signature wink as she could see the lava splashing against the sides of where he was, “Noo!!!” as the chute shut tight and started cranking her upwards. She flung her back to the opposite side of where the tin had shut and felt the heat and the moment consuming her. ‘Sonic... do you mean that..? Do you really... love me?’

Sonic was tearing up the ground in his wake as dust spiraled behind him and he almost flew up at supersonic speeds through the canyon. All the while, he narrowed his eyes to the straight path the elevator was meant to take, making sure it reached the top. ‘Faster... Faster... Faster...!!!’ his eyes widened as his teeth clenched, seeing the lava building up and never stopping, not even for a moment, in consuming the rock beneath it and yet, his eyes trained to fixate on the metal pole that meant the chain was still hauling Amy up. “Endure it just a little longer,... Amy...” his eyebrow furrowed before bowing as he tripped by not watching where his feet were going. “W-woah!” he noticed he had reached the top and was falling now, having pressed his foot to air which had started the tumble. He gripped frantically to the edge of the large landscape and was able to get enough wind in his heels and strength left in his fingers to stop his falling... he had made it... he’ll be okay.

But that wasn’t enough.

He heard the metal bending and cranking, as though slowing the rising, treasured container of it’s load from coming up. The metal was beginning to tilt and loosened itself from it’s bolted railing and started to dip like a bending fish hook towards the flaming sea...

“No!!” Sonic leaped up and raced to the pole, “Amy!!!” He reached out and bent to grab the wall and the bending metal, using himself like a stretched chord to keep the metal from bending further, suspended between rock and the pole as he could feel the jolting of the chains continuing to crank up, but slower than before.

‘I have to straighten the poll out... or Amy will never make it!’ he was running out of juice and energy... but strength rose in him as he thought of her... He couldn’t let her down... he couldn’t let himself live knowing she was still in harm’s way...

He was mellowly delighted that she was accompanying him on this adventure. Though he never showed it, he enjoyed her hammering swings and ricocheting off robots to stop dramatically in front of her and strike a pose, knowing she loved it when he showed off. He couldn’t naturally give slight looks and charming flares to the dudes, it would be weird, but he enjoyed the moments he could when Amy was around.

True, sometimes, he felt he couldn’t fully be himself around Amy or she’d overly fawn after him... but even then... he could see and feel how much he meant to her.

He never felt the need to be more for her, even though he knew he probably should act a bit more gentlemanly here and there, which he did, but never overdid it to avoid getting exploited by Amy’s constant yearning for more attention from him.

He was never upset when she insisted to tag along with him for a journey or perilous undertaking. He just always knew he needed to keep an ear and eye out to make sure she was safe at all times... other than that? It was just fun to have her around, constantly praising him. Though... he didn’t like her ‘pampering’ behavior when she’d rub his hand too much if he punched a tough-made robot... he still didn’t mind the doting every now and then.

Clenching his abs, he finally scrunched his body enough to bend the pole somewhat back into a straighter line, causing the chain to move quickly with each thought he had for Amy and how he was determined to saving her life.

She had saved his... after all. If she had self-sacrificed herself... he would have... never... ever... forgiven himself such a lost.

Amy was almost about to collapse at the heated panel beneath her butt and feet, fearing the lava had caught up with her, until there was a jolt and she stopped fully. “S...Son...ic...” The chute opened and a sound like a swift wind brushed through her small compartment and gave her somewhat relief,... but not as much as cool hands that gripped her firmly at her sides and pulled her out.

When she came too, Tails and Knuckles were standing over her and Cream was attending her.

She remembered a similar scene with Cream... when she had almost drowned in the water when Eggman attacked back in Chris’s world... what... where was Sonic?

“I..” she could barely get a word out, and Cream kept dabbing the cool cloth on her head and adjusting the cooling pads under her back, on her sides, and over her stomach.

“Don’t worry, Miss Amy.” Cream spoke out, cheerily but with a worried and loving look in her eyes, but showing signs that Amy was going to be alright. Her little heart pattered quickly as she stopped a moment and reached back as though forgetting something, putting a flower by her side. “Mr. Sonic said to give you this when you woke up! He said you deserved to see some life after all the dull rock you were exposed too.”

And the pitch black of the heated tin chute... he must have felt awful about that being the only other way to get them out of there alive.

She had no idea about the pole that threatened to snap and dip her into slowly into a melted death... but as she got better, Tails told her Sonic had gone after Eggman, and she gathered that Sonic hadn’t told any of them the extent at what they had gone through.

‘He’s keeping up appearances... he doesn’t want to trouble or worry them more than he already has.’ she concluded, thinking that noble and brave... somewhat.

She wanted to tell them, so badly, about everything... but silently accepted Sonic’s assumed wishes.

She also didn’t want to worry anyone... but... Oh, she wanted to tell at least one soul about the encounter!!!

Sonic had... he had really... ohhh!!! Her heart was overjoyed!

But... when she came to see him...

As per-usual, he was up atop a windy place, looking over the nature he spent his whole life preserving and protecting... admiring it’s beauty and natural power.

With a kind and neutral smile on his face, he suddenly turned to see Amy walking happily up to greet him.

Seeing his gaze, she paused a moment and halted, putting her hands together and in front of her, trying to look feminine and delicate.

“Hello, Sonic.” she greeted, blushing as her eyes closed and she giggled to herself lightly.

“Amy,” he nodded to her, a true picture of boy coolness!

She squee’d, “When are you gonna act like how you really feel at seeing my cute face?” she cupped her cheeks and turned away as if ‘trying’ to be modest about it... but then blinked her eyes when Sonic responded in a way she wasn’t expecting.

“Huh? I am acting the way I always do, Amy.” He folded his arms, looking more... puzzled... than she thought he should have.

“But- ah.... uhh...Ohhh!!!” she did her signature whine and shook her once -delicate- hands in a fury of frustration down at her sides. “That’s not how you feel at all!” She contested, but he didn’t seem to want to fight as his smile slightly fell.

Her eyes came back to his neutral ones and looked somewhat pleading to return to a place they once were... or at least... had just gotten to. “Why are you being like this..? After everything we went through on that ridge...”

He just quietly stared at her, before lowering his head and closing his eyes, shaking it softly back and forth. “I think you were misguided, Amy. The heat had gotten to us and we... said things we didn’t actually mean to express.” he then looked up at the sky, as if trying to dismissive the topic further. “Of course I care about you, Amy,... But I can’t say it’s to the extent that you’re hoping for. To where I suddenly run into your arms, or something mushy like that... heheh.” he had a bead of awkwardness like a sweat drop slide down the side of his face as his mouth squirmed it’s lines to show how uncomfortable with this he all was.

Amy felt her heart chip away just like the pebbles of the rocky wall... as though she was trying to climb the wall he had pasted up again after only just placing it down back then...

“You’re... You’re not being fair...” she wanted to call him cruel, but she knew that was a lie. She wouldn’t lie... whether to herself or to him.

But this...

This hurt so much.

“What’s wrong with liking me?” she finally had the coolness of the earth to allow tears to peek out from her eyelids, but never fully emerge. Her body quivered in the cold, but she ignored it, too angry and hurt to care. “You can’t just press restart every time you show me how you feel, Sonic The Hedgehog!”

Her outburst caused a sharp bolt of lightning to split Sonic’s core in two. His heart ripped as though torn about how to follow something that dramatic and genuine up... He’d had hoped for the social norm again... but that seemed a bit too late.

He flinched back and then relaxed, scratching behind his head, “I guess you’re right, Amy... I’m not being very fair to your feelings... but you can’t blame me for being hesitant about my choices...”

She was sniffling, and he realized she probably didn’t have it in her to say more right now. Sighing, he walked down to her and smiled tenderly, kindly opening his arms to invite her to hug him.

“Let’s just say... I don’t really have a way with words.”

“They’re enough for me...” she hiccupped through her tears now pouring out. “You’ve always been enough for me. Every part of you, every inch and every word ever spoken and act ever done has been enough... when will you get that? When will you learn that whatever you choose to do for me... for my sake... knowing how hard it is for you to express that freely and openly like you did in that moment... it’s always been enough to shake me.” she fell to her legs, bawling now as Sonic awkwardly stood there and blinked, realizing she was going to break down.

“H-hang on, just a second, Amy!” he was shaking his hands out to get her to stop crying and calm down, but her tears and wailing didn’t cease, she was already emotionally compromised and it made him feel like a bigger jerk than ever before.

“Alright, enough already... I get it, Amy...” His face quite literally seemed to deflate on itself as he lost the energy and will to keep up the persona. “You heard what you heard, and I never said I wanted to take it back... just that I can’t always do that from now on. I didn’t want to lose you... that part is, and will always be, true.”

Amy took her hands away from her eyes to see the resounding truth that was on his face. “I... I don’t want-” she hiccupped, a cute and gross reminder that she had been holding all this in for some time now since Sonic’s first departure. “to lose you... hck, either...” she sniffed.

Chuckling at her appalling sense of self-preservation or even an idea of self-image in this moment, Sonic kindly wiped her eyes with his finger and looked to her as though slowly backing the wall up and away from her, but not fully putting it down yet. “I can’t promise I won’t lead you into dangerous times, Amy... but I can say that I will never leave you behind in those moments. Not ever.”

She pouted, “You shoved me in a dark chute.”

“T-To save your life!” he gestured out to her, his arms out either side of her and extended as though to plead his case, “You were right, Amy, I couldn’t have carried us both up, it was the only way!”

She continued to give him a hard look of judgement.

“You gotta believe me, honest! You knew it was the only way!”

“...It was still scary...”

“You survived!” his words almost smacked the idea as though fanning it away, but he never dared to say ‘quit complaining’ as he could tell she was just riling him up.

She smiled, unable to help it. She enjoyed seeing emotion out of him, even expressed in ways like this. She batted his chest, secretly snuggling into it, “You’re the worst, Sonic The Hedgehog! You make me cry and smile at the same time! No one does that...” she muttered the last part out, and it was almost cute... almost.

Sonic rolled his eyes, “Come on, give me a break, Amy...” It almost sounded like he was complaining, but it was to keep up with her playful antics. “Forgive me this one time?”

“I forgive you every time.” Amy mumbled into the side of his chest.

“...Forgive me for being a dunce?”

“I forgive you for that all the time too.” she continued to play, making sure her mouth’s movements and the vibration of her words could be felt in into his chest too.

There was silence...

“Forgive me for... this?” his hands suddenly caught her up and her lips were silenced for a time that for her--seemed to last eternity.

When his kiss parted he was gone with the wind, as though unable to stick around for the aftermath.

She was frozen in disbelief before shouting out in a type of ‘hoorah!’ for her success, but also...

Sonic did know the perfect timing for a romantic advance... he just didn’t always have the words or courage to say it~<3

#sonamy #sonic prompt #sonic and amy #sonicxamy #sonic x amy #cutegirlmayra #sonamy prompt #sonamy au #sonamy modern #modern!sonamy #modern sonamy

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mourntheantagonist · 4 years ago

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Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!! It’s Finally the Day to share my piece for the @harringroveheart-on !! (If you didn’t already see it posted on ao3 yesterday)I went with the prompt: secret admirer!! enjoy some flangst and have a wonderful day whether you celebrate the holiday or not!! ❤️

Fortunately

read on ao3

***

Billy needs a job.

He’s two months fresh out of the hospital but that doesn’t matter. The local pool was closed for the winter and Neil was adamant that he get out and find work as soon as he was able to walk, despite the fact that he could only do so for only short periods at a time.

And he’s forced to take what he can get. January wasn’t the best time of year to be looking for work in Hawkins. He told himself he’d apply at any place with a help wanted sign displayed in their window. And he did. Application after application. Stellar fucking resume. The only problem was that not many people were looking to hire on the guy who looked just minutes away from death each time they saw him. Didn’t want to put the guy with the hideous scars and the sickly frame in front of customers. Though, they’d usually let him off with the same similar speech about how he “just wasn’t what they were looking for.”

Luckily for Billy, there was one place that was just as desperate as he was. Li’s Kitchen. The local Chinese restaurant that had just needed to make several layoffs to keep themselves from closing. They quickly hired him on to wash dishes in the back because he was ready and willing to work for minimum wage. Making just $3.35 an hour, it was enough and at least it got Neil off of his back.

So he’d haul his ass into work every day on the dot. Walking the full half-mile distance through snowy paths to the restaurant since the Camaro was still out of commission. Trudging along, praying he didn’t slip because his ribs were still fragile and just a simple impact of a good fall could break them again. The walk was simply exhausting. By the time he’d enter through those double doors and set off the bell hung above, he’d be completely out of breath and exhausted and his shift hadn’t even started yet. But fortunately it was just washing dishes. How hard could it be?

Apparently. Pretty fucking hard for a guy who could hardly stand up straight. The heat radiating from the hot steam of the water making him lightheaded almost instantaneously. The boiling hot water against his arms and hands sending him back to those days flayed out in the sun as the ultraviolet rays burned through the skin. The liquid dripping from his face that he couldn’t differentiate from steam or sweat taking him back to the sauna. Feeling his insides heat up and burn like fire inside his gut. Trapped in a prison that was his own body. He just wanted to crawl into a bucket of ice.

His only saving grace was that this time it was winter, and he wasn’t actually flayed. Just overheated and weak. He'd take his breaks behind the restaurant digging his feet into deep snow and letting the chill breeze cool him down. Lighting up a cigarette to get his body to an equilibrium of hot and cold. But the good feeling only lasted as long as he stood outside, immediately getting the same sick to his stomach feeling as soon as he walked back in. Hunched over the sink in the kitchen just trying to move fast enough and stay standing.

He figured he was lucky enough to get the job, that he couldn’t afford to disappoint, because then he’d be entirely out of options. Unemployed and still stuck under his father’s roof on Cherry Lane, this time accompanied by a deeper rage. If Billy didn’t have a job to get to, Neil would have no reason to hold back anything. No reason not to leave bruises or cuts. But it was getting harder and harder as the days progressed. Never enough time in the day to rest and recover enough to brave the next one. He was running on borrowed energy and excessive amounts of caffeine.

There came a moment when he nearly passed out into the sink full of porcelain plates. His breathing became shallow as his vision got blurry and dark. His head spun and his balance faltered and he needed a fucking drink of water.

One of the servers caught him just before he was about to go down. A man older than him but not by much. Same build as him before the accident but easily with an additional five inches on him. Billy was probably at least ten pounds lighter now that a bulk of his muscle had wasted away in that hospital bed. Making him easy to catch.

“You look like shit hargrove.” is what the man says, but Billy barely registers it because everything is muffled. The sounds of running water into the metal sink being the loudest noise he can hear. The man tosses one of Billy's arms over his shoulder and hauls him into the break room. Billy’s doing exactly zero of the work. Letting his legs fall limp and his feet drag against the tile floor. He sits him down in one of the metal chairs and hands him a small cup of water from the jug. “Drink you’re dehydrated” he says, tilting the bottom of the cup upwards so that it’s forced into Billy's mouth and down his throat. “The dinner rush is almost out, I’ll take care of the rest of the dishes, you just stay in here and try not to pass out again, sound like a plan?”

Billy nods his head and drinks the rest of the water in the cup before letting his head fall into his hands and his eyes fall shut as he tries to regain his composure. Cool himself down and slow his heart rate.

By the time his coworker — Zachary, he remembers — comes back into the break room he’s better. Not quite ready to get back to the sink and the hot steam cloud that comes with his job, but better.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten kid?” Kid. Sounds really odd coming from someone who could be no older than thirty.

“I had toast this morning.” Billy hadn’t actually been eating much lately. Not finding the time in the day to sit down to have a meal in between work and recovering from said work. His hours conflicted with family dinner so he was left to fend for himself. Neil made it very clear that what was in the cupboards did not belong to him. So all he had to his name was a single loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter.

“Well guess what. It’s closing time and you’re not leaving here without a meal. So go sit down at one of the tables and pick anything you want from the menu.” Does Billy have pride? Yes. But is his stomach turning and his mouth watering at just the thought of some orange chicken? Also yes. So instead of arguing with him about how he can take care of himself, which is debatable at this point, he just says thank you and finds himself a table in the corner. He doesn’t expect Zachary to follow him all the way there and sit down right across from him.

“Don’t worry about paying. My dad will cook it up for free.”

Oh right. Zachary Li... The owner’s son.

And suddenly things went from awkward to outright uncomfortable for Billy. Because he was sitting here eating dinner with another man who would be footing the bill. Sure, Zachary was just his coworker and in his mind the exchange had absolutely no weight to it, but to billy it was so fucking heavy. The thought of Neil barging in to see the display and not giving two seconds to read the situation before he started throwing punches. Because it didn’t matter if it was a date or just dinner with a coworker. If it looked a certain way, then that’s how it was.

But the other thing was he couldn’t just get up now. Not without an explanation. So he sucked it up and said he’d have the orange chicken, earning a scowl followed by a laugh and a nod because of course he’d order that and none of the authentic chinese food dishes. But then he ordered the same thing because they both have fallen victim to american colonization.

And chef Li made a damn good orange chicken.

And this one did not disappoint. But it’s not like he really had the chance to taste it since he was too busy inhaling it. Finishing his entire plate before Zachary had even made a dent. And Billy was slightly embarrassed by it. But zachary said nothing. Just continued with his own meal without acknowledging that Billy had scarfed his own down in no time at all. Making other dry conversation with Billy and constantly refilling his water glass with the pitcher every time it got below half full.

When he’s just about finished is when chef Li brings out a small plate with fortune cookies sitting on top, one for each of them. They each take their own and crack them open.

“What’s it say? I got an inch of time is an inch of gold for the thousandth time. I swear elizabeth is getting lazy with these”

Billy looks down at his, and can’t help but laugh.

“A beautiful, smart, and loving person will be coming into your life.”

Hahaha. Hilarious.

“Well then we better hope that these things come true. Though I have a lot of time and have not seen any gold fall into my lap yet.” he laughs and pops the cookie into his mouth, Billy does the same. “Hey dad, you gonna open one?”

“Sure.” he says. Pulling one from the container in the back and breaking it open quite aggressively. “Allow compassion to guide your decisions. Boring.”

They both just laugh. But then Zachary gets this weird look in his eyes. “Hey dad? What if Billy made the fortune cookies instead?”

“Who would wash the dishes?”

Zachary just shot him a look. Yeah, Billy's medical condition and clear exhaustion didn’t go unnoticed by the staff. That must have been what that look meant.

“Read that fortune again, Dad.”

He looks down at the slip of the paper in his hand and almost instantly tosses it to the floor.

“You’re a pain in my ass Zach. alright then Billy, you available in the mornings? I can have Elizabeth show you the ropes tomorrow and if you’re any good you won’t have to wash dishes anymore. That will be my ungrateful son's job.”

“Hey-“

“No ‘hey’ nothing. Have compassion, remember?” he swats Zach with the towel that hung over his shoulder.

Billy just stayed silent for the whole exchange. Only nodding his head when asked if he was free in the mornings. He wanted to tell them to fuck off. To tell them he could do his job perfectly fine. A bold faced lie, but still. However, he also recognized that he couldn’t continue the way he was going. He was three shifts away from an ambulance ride to the emergency room, and that would just piss off Neil further.

So instead of speaking up, he silently agreed, and suddenly found himself walking the same distance he did every day, this time at seven in the morning when the rest of his house was still asleep. Another bonus. Less he had to see Neil, the better. And he’d be home in time for family dinner, the only meal he was welcome to join. And as much as he hated sitting across the table from his Dad, Susan's cooking served as a pleasant enough distraction.

Liz gladly showed him how to make the cookies. Constantly expressing how much she hated making them and is happily giving up the job to billy. That didn’t make him feel too great about it.

But then it really wasn’t bad. Just tedious. Slightly boring and mindless. Made his hands ache after a couple hours of folding the fortunes and squeezing out the batter, but it was ten times less painful than doing the dishes. He got to make them while sitting down at a table before the place even opened. No crowded kitchen or hot running water. The only heat he experienced came from opening and closing the oven, and that only happened for seconds at a time.

And the best part.

He got to make the fortunes.

Typing out several sheets of sample fortunes on a typewriter, cutting them into slips using the paper guillotine. It was definitely strange they never bothered to check his work. They had way too much trust in a guy like Billy to write fortunes. Free will to throw anything in there.

Did he ever veer away from the script posted to the wall? No. But the fact that he could was so funny to him.

He never once considered he would actually want to throw something else into those fortune cookies, until that first tuesday in the middle of his shift right as they opened for lunch and he saw a familiar figure enter through the glass doors into the restaurant. Bell chiming behind him. Craning his head upwards so he could get a closer look he recognizes Steve, picking up a to-go order still wearing the dark green family video vest. Steve didn’t even notice him. Just grabbed his white paper bag, dropped the bill on the counter, and walked out the door. Flashing a smile at Liz who was up running the counter.

But Billy, he saw Steve. He stared at Steve for the duration of his time in the store because he was totally and completely whipped. Totally entranced for long enough that the cookies he was folding had already hardened, and Zach was giving him a weird look when Billy visibly shook at the sound of the bell chiming for the second time, pulling him from the trance.

“So harrington, huh? He’s your fortune?”

Billy got all wide eyed and jerked his head to the right to look at him. Completely zoned out and unprepared to defend himself, instead just stuttering out a string of nonsensical “I”s and “no”s and “it’s not”s. Failing miserably to get the lies past his tongue.

“Relax dude. I don’t really give a shit. Elizabeth, however, might. Girl doesn’t stop talking my ear off about you.”

But that just goes in one ear and out the other. Billy still continues to stutter out as best of a denial he can but his heart is racing, his stomach is churning, his palms are sweating, and the cookies are burning!

“Shit.” it’s the first full sentence he’s been able to get out. Rushing over to the oven and pulling out the hot pan of nearly completely blackened circles.

And Zach is just standing there laughing. Waving the smoke out of his face as Billy tries to blow out the miniature fire he caused on one of the cookies.

“Still gonna try and deny it?” he says.

“Fuck off. Seriously.”

Zach just backs away. Hands in the air. “Okay, okay. I’ll mind my own business. Lover boy.”

Billy promptly tosses one of the finished cookies at his face. “Whatever you think you saw. Keep it to your fucking self, alright?”

“Got it. Loud and clear.” But he’s still fucking giggling and Billy is currently contemplating murder. Eyes darting to the array of knives in close reach. Shakes the feeling. Killing the boss's son probably wouldn’t look good on evaluation.

Did he tell anyone? No. Did he tease billy relentlessly about it every fucking day. Of course he fucking did. Especially on days Steve walked into the restaurant for a to-go order. Nudging him in the arm with a little “Guess who’s here?” in a sing-songy voice.

And to think Billy thought having someone know and not crucify him would be a good thing. He'd rather he just hate crime him behind the restaurant instead of the constant, and I mean constant, ribbing.

Eventually moving on from teasing behind the wall of the kitchen to suggesting he go out and take the payment to actually pushing him out the swinging doors to do it. “Talk him up Hargrove. Put on the moves.”

There were no moves. But there was a conversation. A good one. A nice one. They just talked about themselves and caught up. Not really seeing much of each other once he was out of the hospital. Only having seen Steve in passing on days he’d bring max by for visiting hours. But they never actually talked much during that time. He’d come up to the room with her saying “Thought it’d be nice to see another familiar face.”

And it was.

Billy was not paying much attention to this conversation. Answering Steve's questions and asking his own, but he was definitely distracted by how close their hands were to each other, both rested on the counter, supporting themselves. If you asked Billy after the conversation what they talked about, he could only recall two things. One; he works at family video, not really substantial. And two; he said he looked good.

“You look good Billy.”

Yup, Billy was completely gone.

So maybe the constant teasing wasn’t completely terrible. Especially now that he’s given him such a stupid stupid stupid idea that he’s one hundred percent going to go through with because it’s about fucking time he wrote some fortunes of his own. He had several typed out and ready to be placed into a cookie whenever they received another call for an order for ‘Harrington.’ The first one was innocent enough. Pulled straight off the list of sample fortunes.

“You always bring others happiness.”

Just something simple. He just saw it on the list and it made him smile. Thought it would be nice to see Steve smile too.

The next few were similar to that one. Pulled straight off of the list but tailored specifically toward Steve.

“You are working hard.”

“Have a beautiful day.”

“You look pretty.”

But that last one was different. Because on the back of the last one he wrote in ballpoint pen.

- The cookie maker ♡

And that’s when it became a thing that they were both aware of. Now it was a romantic gesture and not just an act of kindness or a series of coincidental fortunes. Now steve was on the lookout for who made the fortunes at Li’s kitchen, but at the same time trying to keep the mystery alive so that the fortunes would keep coming.

Billy started writing out his own.

“I like your hair.”

“You have a terrific ass.”

“Somebody’s got a crush on you.”

Zach wrote that last one.

Then they got deeper.

“You make me happy when I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You make the pain go away.”

Steve never failed to blush at each and every fortune with the signature heart on the back.

But it was dragging on. And Steve was getting impatient. Started to ask around, eventually learning that robin had seen Elizabeth Li making them one time.

Elizabeth Li is sixteen. Absolutely not.

And now he feels bad for letting it drag on this long. Taking himself to the restaurant to let her down gently. When he walks through, Billy is standing behind the counter. Confused because he didn’t usually order on Wednesdays, and especially not this late in the day.

Was that a weird thing to know?

“Do you have an order to pick up?” Billy asks.

“No. Not today. I was actually hoping I could talk to Elizabeth, is she around?”

And Billy's heart just sinks to the floor. The slight smile that was on his face now completely gone and shattered to pieces.

“Yeah. I’ll go get her.” he says, with a heavy heart, disappointment clear in his voice.

He sends her out to the front and lingers in the back, ear pressed to the door trying to listen in like some creep.

“Look, elizabeth. I’m really flattered and I appreciate the fortune cookies, but you’re way too young for me. I’m sorry.”

Shit.

Is Billy supposed to be worried or relieved?

He can’t even see her face but he knows she’d be giving him her death stare right about now.

He can hear her say it through clenched teeth and he shouldn’t find it so funny but it is.

“Yeah. Okay, sorry about that. I’ll definitely stop doing that. Have a good day Steve.” And she just walks away from the counter and Billy barely jumps backwards in time to not get a door slammed in his face.

“You better fucking fix this Hargrove. I am not going to go down for this for you.”

Zach had just walked into the kitchen from the break room. Chef Li and the rest of the staff are just minding their own business.

“What did I miss?”

Elizabeth is all up in Billy’s personal space. Inches away from his chest looking up at him from her height of just five feet and three inches.

“Steve fucking Harrington thinks I’m his little secret admirer.”

Her face is red in anger but Zach’s is red from laughing so hard.

“Now that’s fucking funny.”

“If you don’t tell Steve, I will. I covered for you out of the kindness of my heart, but I’m not that kind.”

“Isn’t that the truth.”

“Shut up Zach!”

Zach was laughing. Billy however, was suddenly not. Head now bowed, sighing heavily.

“I can’t do that.” It was a quiet and sudden change of tone that altered the mood of the situation entirely. The only people who could hear were just the three of them because the sound couldn’t overpower the noises of chopping vegetables and the clanking of pots and pans and the sizzle of cooking meat.

“Why not?”

“Fuck you. You know why.”

“Well what was your plan Romeo?! Were you just never going to tell him?” she threw her hands in the air like he was being ridiculous. The only thing that was ridiculous was that he ever went through with it in the first place.

“I don’t know. Okay? I don’t fucking know.”

Zach came up from behind him and offered a reassuring hand to his shoulder. “Look dude, my little sister is a bitch but she’s right. You have to tell him. I’ll have your back when you do.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?” Billy jerks his head back down to look at Liz.

“Tell him. Tomorrow.” Her arms were crossed and she clearly wasn’t taking a no for an answer.

“Fuck the both of you. My shift is over.” Billy pushed past her and out of the restaurant. Leaving his jacket behind and walking home through the cold weather. His converse getting wet from the slushy snow, soaking through to his socks making him even colder all over. He’s internally freaking out and his heart would be beating out of his chest if his nervous system wasn’t operating at a decreased rate due to potential hypothermia.

He can’t even think. Just kicking his feet against the wet pavement letting the breeze take him over. If he dies, he doesn’t have to tell him.

Headlights pass him by as he slowly walks the distance home, nobody caring about the guy who cheated death just months ago inching closer back to that point instead of further away. Nobody stops to offer him a ride or even check to see if he’s okay, and he’s not even sure if he even wants to make it home. It would be preferable to just fall asleep in one of the bushes outside than having to make his day even worse by introducing Neil into it. Sitting at a dinner table, making nice and pretending like everything that was going well for him won’t come to an end twenty four hours from now. All the joy of making those little fortune cookies and just imagining the look on Steve’s face every time. The look he knew for sure was one of happiness despite never seeing it because it wasn’t a coincidence Steve’s lunch orders became more and more frequent.

But in his peripheral a set of headlights did seem to slow. That was either a sign he was meeting his savior, or potentially his kidnapper. Honestly at this point they are the same thing.

“Billy?”

You have got to be kidding me.

“Hey Harrington.” His teeth are chattering and his voice is shaky as he says it. Is it the cold? Or are his nerves finally beginning to work at the worst time possible?

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Walking home.”

“You’ll die out here.”

“If only.” He says it under his breath but Steve still hears it. Letting the car come to a complete stop rather than the slow pacing he was doing before.

“Get in. I’ll take you home.”

Billy just waves him off. “I’ll be fine on my own.” And he continues walking at his slow pace.

“I wasn’t fucking asking. Get the hell in Hargrove. Before I drag you in here.”

Billy stops and sighs. Kicking more slush into the air. “Fine.”

He walks around to the passenger side and lowers himself into the seat. Groaning as his body aches from the motion. Steve doesn’t acknowledge it. Just puts the car back into drive and heads towards Cherry Lane. Silence in the car as Billy breathes into his hands trying to warm them up. He’s pale. Looks like he’s never seen the sun before. His face is flushed. Even in the state like this Steve carries the same sentiment from that first conversation at the restaurant.

“You look good, Billy.”

He doesn’t say that. But he’s thinking it.

They eventually pull up to the white house with the screened in porch, and Billy grows visibly tense in his seat. He’s not moving. Just darting his eyes from the clock in the car and back to the house with the lights on.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks. But Billy’s eyes continue to move back and forth as his breathing quickens slightly more as each second ticks by. Showing no sign that he heard the words that came out of Steve’s mouth. He reaches over the center console and grabs his hand. “Hey.”

Billy looks over like a deer in the headlights. Eyes ever so slightly glossy. Clearing his throat he tries to speak.

“Can you take me somewhere else?” He asks.

He doesn’t want to go home. Can’t begin to even think about seeing his Dad today. He just wants to crawl under his covers and go to sleep. Dream of a reality that isn’t his own. Not this fucked up shit show he’s stupidly gotten himself into.

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere but here?”

Neither of them realize Steve is still holding his hand. Not until he squeezes it tighter, recognizing the pain in Billy’s voice. Not for what it meant but just that it was there. He didn’t need to nor want to know why Billy didn’t want to go home. Just wanted to make it so he didn’t have to.

“Is my house okay?”

Billy hesitates, but nods.

And they turn the car around.

- : -

Billy wakes up the next morning on Steve’s couch to the sound of a microwave’s hum followed by a loud ‘ding’ that echoes off the walls. He just remembers walking through the door of Steve’s house and immediately laying down on the first soft surface he could find. Remembers Steve saying he’d be upstairs if he needed anything before quickly drifting off into sleep without a care in the world.

He went to sleep without a pillow and a blanket, and woke up with both.

Billy rubs away at his eyes while Steve enters the living room from the kitchen with two plates in his hands.

“I made you a hot pocket if you want one.” He sets the plate onto the coffee table before he takes a seat in the chair beside the couch. Billy sits himself up and takes the plate, cooling it off with a quick blow of his breath before biting into it. “You have work today?”

“Yeah, at eight. What time is it?”

“Only seven fifteen. I have to be in at eight thirty so I can drop you off if you want.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s seriously not a problem man, and no offense but you don’t look like you’d make the walk from here to there.”

Billy laughs.

“I thought you said I looked good.”

Shit. It’s weird that he remembers that.

But Steve blushes. “Well yeah, just not ‘two mile hike’ good. But you’ll get there.”

“Thanks.”

“Why are you working anyway? Shouldn’t you still be recovering?”

Billy frowns. “My Dad is making me.”

Oh. That’s why he doesn’t want to go home.

The situation is awkward now. Silent as they finish their breakfasts and drive off in the Beemer. Pulling up outside the restaurant fifteen minutes before his shift starts. Billy suddenly reminded of what he’s supposed to do today as soon as he looks at the sign out front.

“Uh, hey. Listen. Come by the restaurant for to-go. On me y’know, as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to-“

Billy cuts him off.

“Yes. I do.”

- : -

When Billy walks into the kitchen in the same clothes as yesterday nobody says anything. Nothing about his undone hair or his or his early arrival to work. Instead he’s met with apologies exiting the mouths of the two Li children as they corner him in the break room.

“We’re sorry about yesterday. It wasn’t fair for us to do that to you. Elizabeth said she won’t tell Steve.”

They were waiting for him to yell, or at the very least get his anger out some way.

But instead Billy smiled. Barely there with just the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth but it was there, so distinct from his natural grimace. “It’s fine.” He says.

Zachary and Elizabeth are entirely confused. Looking in between each other like ‘did you just see what I just saw?’

“What has you so chipper?”

His smile just grew slightly wider.

“Spent the night at Steve’s last night.”

The two’s eyes grew to the size of saucers.

“You what!?” They both said in unison.

“Jesus! Not like that. I just slept on his couch.”

Billy could see the cogs turning in each of their heads. Trying to figure everything out like it was some complicated math problem. “I think I’m going to tell him. Today.”

“Really?”

Billy nodded, threw on his skull cap, and left the dumbfounded siblings where they stood. He had a fortune to write, and cookies to bake.

He was so meticulous this time. Making sure they were perfectly round circles, folded exactly in half. Throwing nonsense fortunes into each one. Avoiding the one sitting by itself on the table beside him. Too afraid to throw it into a cookie, each time he tossed in another basic off the list fortune was just Billy trying to talk himself out of it.

But he inches closer and closer to reaching the point of no return. First by putting in Steve’s lunch order. Next by finally slipping the fortune into a cookie. Next by slipping the cookie into Steve’s bag, and finally at the strike of noon, handing the bag to Steve, insisting he pay for it while Billy continuously denies him. Telling him to go enjoy his meal and stop arguing with him.

When Steve walked out the door Billy thought he could stop holding his breath. But he couldn’t let it out. Thought the anticipation lied with handing the meal to Steve, now feeling his breath caught even more now that he had. It was the anticipation of not knowing. He had to know.

But Steve left with the cookie still intact.

So he had to wait.

- : -

Steve brought his lunch into Family Video. The same thing he always ordered. Feeling a warm sensation in his chest at the knowledge that Billy knew his order. Fried rice and soup dumplings. Robin was there, waiting to mooch off of his food since she never bothered to bring her own lunch, but would also refuse to let Steve buy her anything.

If he didn’t know any better he’d think she liked him.

But he did know better not even to entertain that idea. She was just the girl who liked to eat Steve’s food because that’s just what she did. She’s standing there with her grabby hands, ready to start digging into his rice. She peruses through the contents of the bag and pulls out the plastic containers and the one fortune cookie that he always got.

“Did you let her down easy?” Robin asks, waving the cookie in his face.

“Yes. She was weird about it. But I guess she took it well.”

“Well that’s good. Can I have this one then?”

“Sure. Go for it. I don’t like them all that much anyway. I just like them for the fortunes.”

“Well then let’s see what Steve Harrington’s fortune is today, shall we?”

Robin cracks it open and gently pulls the slip of paper out from inside. Popping the cookie into her mouth as she pulls it taut so she can read it.

Her eyes squint. She pulls it closer to her face, just inches away like she can’t see what she’s reading. Like she’s confused.

“What’s it say?”

“Umm.” She just shakes her head. Mouth still full with the fortune cookie as she passes it along to Steve.

He takes it from her hesitantly, and a look of confusion washes over his face as he reads the words.

“I’m not Elizabeth Li.”

“What?” He says it mostly to himself, because what the fuck?

He turns it over and is expecting to see the same little signature. The vague ‘the cookie maker’ with the tiny heart.

Well the heart is still there.

But it says something else.

- Billy ♡

“Holy shit.”

- : -

It’s a painstakingly long rest of his shift. Doing the same old boring jobs like cleaning up, manning the front counter, and bussing tables when he’d finished the daily batch of cookies. It usually felt like a long five hours, but today it was excruciating. He could feel Zach and Liz’s eyes on him the whole time. Like they were watching intently so they didn’t miss the moment where he inevitably exploded from all the anxiety in his chest.

Billy’s constantly playing out different scenarios in his head. Steve barging into the store and punching him in the face being the one that’s the most prevalent. Occasionally letting himself get slightly hopeful and imagining the opposite.

But there was a third scenario he considered. That Steve just wouldn’t come back at all. Let him down by not even bringing him up. Robbing him of the closure he needs. He’d rather Steve just punch him in the face. That was a kind of rejection he could handle. One that gave him a reason to let go. Not one that left him hanging on by a single thread.

His shift is quickly coming to an end and he’s debating on how desperate he is to wait and linger around the restaurant with his small shred of hope that he comes back. His neck hurts from jerking his head towards the door every time the bell chimed. Hoping to see the boy with the chestnut hair walk through only to be greeted by another local he refused to learn the name of.

He’s losing his goddamn mind and he needs a fucking cigarette.

His shift comes to an end and he clocks out. Escaping to the back of the restaurant behind the dumpsters, lighting up a Marlboro Red and sinking his weight against the brick siding of the building. Feeling himself shiver when the heat of the flame warms the tip of his nose. Breathing in the smoke trying to regain some sense of calm that completely left his body as soon as he handed the bag to Steve. Too many hours on this high alert feeling that he can’t even recall what relaxation feels like anymore. Just accepts the burning in his lungs in the cold outside weather with just the hum of low traffic and the sound dripping gutters as the closest thing he’s going to get to that for the time being.

Finishing his cigarette, he tosses the bud into a puddle. Dragging a hand over his face as he prepares to walk back into the crowded restaurant that would feel completely empty because it was lacking the one fucking person he wanted to see.

He could go see him.

No he couldn’t. The ball already was in Steve’s court.

He opens the door and Zach is standing right there like he was waiting for him.

“What the fuck dude?”

“No. Shut up. Someone is in the break room waiting for you.”

Billy doesn’t get the chance to register his words before he’s being grabbed by the collar of his shirt and dragged and pushed into the room, where Steve is sitting at the table.

Just looking at him. Studying him.

“Look, Steve –“

“Stop.” He cuts him off. Continues to stare before hesitantly reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out what looks to be a ziplock plastic bag. Opening it and dumping the contents of it out on the table all while Billy is left standing there unable to speak, couldn’t even if Steve would let him. The ability to get words out being entirely suppressed by the sight of about ten slips of paper spread out on the table in front of Steve. Steve just looking back down at them and not looking back at Billy. Lost in another trance. He starts moving them around on the table. Moving them away from each other so that none are touching each other and they are all completely exposed. Steve smiles. Gets up from the chair.

Walks over to where Billy stands with his back pressed against the door, holding tightly to the handle for a quick escape. Steve moves so slowly, like he’s forging his plan with each step until their chests are just inches away from each other. Steve’s looking down, away from Billy’s gaze. Taking Billy’s hand in his, causing him to shudder. “You know I rushed over as soon as I could. Thanks for the lunch Billy.” Billy’s just silent and completely still against the door. Steve’s hold on him is loose yet he feels entirely restrained. “I can’t believe it was you.”

“I’m sorry.” Billy practically chokes on the words, prompting Steve to finally turn his eyes up toward him. Seeing how his eyes have grown glossy and his face has turned a pinkish color.

“What for?”

“That it was me.”

Steve squeezes his hand tighter, brings another to Billy’s cheek gently and Billy feels like he’s being suffocated under the touch. Like instead the hand is wrapped around his throat and pushing against his airway. But he leans into it. Steve’s touch is so soft and he lets his eyes fall shut to burn the sensation into his memory.

“Don’t apologize for that.”

His eyes are still closed when Steve moves forward and kisses him. Shooting open as soon as lips make contact and he suddenly stiffens like a board. It’s quick and chaste and he doesn’t get the opportunity to kiss back before it’s over.

“You can’t… you don’t –“

“But I do.”

“This isn’t a joke, Steve.”

“I agree.”

Billy’s left standing there. Rubbing at his lips that were just touching Steve with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Steve smirks, moves back into Billy’s space so his breath is hot against his mouth.

“You could kiss me, asshole.”

Billy doesn’t need to be asked twice.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #mandi writes tresh #fanfic #harringrove heart-on #harringrove heart on #stranger things

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starfirette · 4 years ago

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Chapter Six: Backtalk Is For Losers

Alstroemeria, Chapter Six: A bit of backtalk gets you into trouble with the infamous Lance Corporal Ackerman.

grand masterlist | previous chapter | more levi | join the taglist: inbox | next chapter coming soon!!!!!

a/n: Levi is heeerrreeeeeeeeeee.

There was a pain that you could sense even before you open your mind to the subject of complete consciousness. It trickled down into your right big toe.

You slowly sat up after you opened your eyes to a row of empty cots made with plain white linen and one flat pillow. You rubbed your eyes, looking around to the majority of the room that was, to say the least, depressing. All along the walls were shelves and cupboards made from dark, grainy wood, set with vials and mason jars of who knows what.

You reached for the little nightstand on the side of your bed, set with only a tarnished bell that you pressed with your palm.

Moments later, you could hear shuffling and footsteps coming down the hall. The door opened open, and to your dismay, an unfamiliar woman entered with a glass and a pitcher of something that sloshed with ice.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

You watched with mild shock as she poured you a glass of ice water and held it out. Your dry tongue yearned for the glass, and you took it and gulped it down in a moment.

The woman gave you a refill.

“Who are you?” you asked after one more drink.

“I am the on call surgeon for the survey corps,” she explained, setting the pitcher down on the racketing side table.

“I’m at the survey corps?” you asked. Your brows contorted with confusion. “How long have I been...?”

“About four days,” she explained. “You were badly hurt during the battle of Trost and you lost a lot of blood. Your injury required twenty two stitches, all on your lower back, where you had a five centimeter deep gash after being dropped on a rock fragment.”

You were dumbfounded. “Four days?” Four days for such a minor injury?

“You must have needed the rest,” the surgeon said with a simple shrug. “Your friends attested your long day of hard work.”

“Why am I with the survey corps?” you asked. “Where are the others?” You’d been half tempted to ask for your friends, but you didn’t really have friends. You had people you’d trained and bunked and fought with, but not ‘friends.’

“You are one of the few cadets that seemed to be close to the asset. Captain Ackerman has been waiting for you to wake up so that you can be questioned.”

Questioned? Captain Ackerman? Asset? Though none of that answered your question about the other cadets, it explained why you were at the survey corps hospital.

The surgeon explained Eren as the asset, and Captain Ackerman is the man in charge of anything related to Eren. Captain Ackerman wanted to know about Eren, from every point of view possible.

You drank the rest of your water before crawling out of bed. You could feel the stiff sutures rub against the fabric of your shirt. The ache of the injury stiffened your movements as you paced back and forth across the length of the room like the doctor had asked of you.

She made a note on the parchment pad she held before setting it down and making way to the cabinets that lined the wall. It was filled with syringes made of brass and had foggy glass jars filled with powders and pills capsules.

She leveled four scoops of a thin, white powder and placed it in a small drawstring bag. “That’ll be for the pain,” she says. “Mix one spoonful it into water or tea before bed and again as needed. The survey corps only allows one dosage of painkillers per injury, so you will not be getting any refills. Try not to get addicted.”

You were tempted to toss the bag back towards her. “Addicted?” you said with wary.

The surgeon shrugged.

“What’s your name again?” you asked. She lifted her brows.

“I am Kathie Perrine, head of surgery and chief assistant to Hanji Zoe, the lead on science and medical research here at the corps.” Kathie reached for the glass frames that were tucked into her shirt pocket, unfolding the arms then placing them at the bridge of her nose. “The captain will give you more information on your room detail and other housing matters. You and the other cadets will be given the formal opportunity to choose your branch of desired service after Eren Jaegar’s trial. Captain Ackerman’s office is up the staircase outside the room, at the right hand wall. It’s the very first entrance.”

You clutched your bag of medicine tightly, nodding and trying to soak up all the information you could. It felt like Kathie was trying to get you out of the surgery as soon as possible, even though you didn’t feel ready yet.

“What if I get lost?” you asked before you budged.

Kathie looked lost herself. “Ask for directions. You’ll get it.”

As you walked out the double surgery doors, you felt like Kathie wasn’t too concerned with you getting to the apparently important Captain Ackerman. Maybe you’d get lost in the giant place and die. Maybe you’re stitches would rip open and you’d bleed to death on the stairs.

It felt like it would happen as you climbed the steps, wincing as the tightly closed wound on your back stretched with every movement. It was worse than the sort of stretch you got when your knee was scabbed. It was real.

This was all real. You were at the cadet corps in God knows where, about to meet God knows who.

But you had been assured by Miss Perrine that Captain Ackerman would set you straight with your living details and your new assignments. Then you could get the hell out of here.

The survey corps was not a place you wanted to be.

With every step up the winding staircase, you could remember the agonizing noises of wailing and screaming on the roads of Trost.

You looked at your hands; you flex and clench them, looking at every detail of your skin. You had been scrubbed down. No dirt and blood was jammed underneath your fingernails.

What was that boy’s name?

You suddenly remembered him as you took a stark right, looking at the oak door to Captain Ackerman’s office.

You hesitantly rapped your knuckles against the door.

“Enter,” a stern sounding voice sounded from beyond the oak.

You turned the brass handle and opened the door to a neatly put together office. It was a normal looking one, with a large wooden desk, stacks of yellowish parchment and leather bound books. You were completely stunned to see who must be the one and only Captain Ackerman.

He wasn’t like you’d imagined at all. For one, he wasn’t old. At least, he didn’t look like it. He was older than you, by maybe ten or so years. His hair wasn’t white or gray, but rather a deep shade of black that had undertones of violet in the candlelight.

He was sorting papers, not bothering to look up as he spoke. “Name?”

“Y/n L/n,” you stammered, offering a weak salute. You felt strangely embarrassed by the greeting, wondering if he’d look at you and wonder why on earth you were doing such a pose. It didn’t feel like he was a captain. He felt like something much more intimidating.

His eyes finally met yours, and you felt like you’d been slapped in the face. Sharp and steely as they were, they were darkly beautiful. He had a stern looking expression, one to match his voice, and the finest bone structure you think you’d ever seen.

He did not look like he belonged in the survey corps. He looked like he belonged in the royal courts at the interior, maybe even on the arm of a princess.

“Yes, miss L/n,” he murmured to himself as he searched through his papers. “Have a seat.”

You strained to do so without meeting his gaze as he looked back and forth between files.

“I am Levi Ackerman, a squad leader here. For the time being I’m also taking the lead on the Eren Jaeger case. I’ll be asking some questions about Jaeger and I am expecting your full, honest answers. Now, until you’ve chosen a corps to serve in you’re going to be residing here and answering directly to me.”

He looked at you for confirmation when you did not answer, a thin eyebrow raised high.

You stammered, “Oh, yes sir,” as a pathetic reply.

The captain tutted under his breath. “Room assignment is seven in the girls hallway,” he said then, going through his papers. He didn’t sound like he really wanted to be going over this all with you. “Sauna and showers every morning at seven sharp for the females. Breakfast seven thirty. Lunch is optional, all noon. Dinner eight in the evening. Questions?”

“No, sir,” you quickly said. You could remember all of that. Maybe.

“Let’s talk about Jaeger.”

It was an abrupt topic change, one that you didn’t quite welcome. To be honest, you didn’t want to be here at all. You were in the total dark about everything. Where was Krista and Ymir?

And Armin, and Mikasa, and even Eren?

Reiner?

The last image that you could muster into your brain was clutching Eren’s limp body in your arms. You remember trying to pull him free of the titan corpse and then nothing else.

“Last time you and I met, you had been recently injured,” Levi noted. “How is that?”

You blinked. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, “but I don’t actually remember meeting you.”

The captain impatiently tapped his pencil “The injury?” he repeated.

You felt your face flush with warmth and embarrassment. “Better,” you said quietly, using a hand to feel the medicine in your pocket.

“And was that induced by Jaeger?”

“I don’t think so. No.”

“Do you think, or do you know?” the captain asked. His eyes were a stronghold, trying to force their way into your nerves.

“I-No.”

“So, you know, then?” the captain asked. He leaned back in his chair, using his forefingers to massage his temples. “It’s a simple question.”

“No.” You spoke firmly. “Eren did not hurt me.”

“You do not remember meeting me,” the captain drawled, “but you remember clearly that Eren did not hurt you?”

Floundering was the only way to describe how you were currently feeling. The captain seemed to know every way to make you feel flustered and feverish.

“This feels oddly like an interrogation, captain,” you said before you could stop yourself.

His eyebrows lifted in shock. You could see the age in the crinkles around his eyes as he finally let his face relax. Late twenties, maybe even around thirty, you estimated.

“Let me correct you, cadet,” the captain said slowly. “This is. Did you know Eren Jaegar was a titan?”

Your eyes would have rolled out of your head if you could widen them any wider. “Absolutely not,” you snapped. “I wasn’t under the impression that any human could be a titan.”

“If I were you I would very quickly adjust that attitude, Y/n,” the captain said smoothly. It shook something in your belly when he said it. His dark eyes were unwavering and they peered into you with no remorse.

“I did not know. I don’t know Eren, really. He and I were never friends.”

“Were you close with the Armin boy?” Levi asked as he looked at his pages, making some notes in the margin.

“No.”

“And the girl?”

“Your relative?” you asked for confirmation.

The captain looked surprised again. “Do not begin to assume anything about me, L/n,” the captain said carefully. “Though she and I share the surname, I do not know her. That wasn’t the question. Were you, or are you, close to Mikasa Ackerman?”

“...No,” you said again, feeling the strain of frustration tugging at your jaw, keeping your mouth tense.

“Were you ever threatened by Jaeger?” the captain proceeded to ask.

“Never. I hardly interacted with him.” You crossed your ankles.

“Then why help him?” the captain asked.

You paused. You looked at the captain with a blank expression.

He lifted his eyebrows again, silently repeating the question with what you would have imagined to be a tone of annoyance. “Is there a problem?”

“Is there some reason I shouldn’t have helped him? Does that make me a bad person? An accomplice? I would have liked some support, had it been me. I can’t understand why you don’t understand about-”

“About?” the captain challenged. He wore a strange sort of smirk, as if he were impressed by your impending outburst; it was like he’d been waiting for it all this time.

“About human decency,” you concluded.

The captain had a mask of amusement on his face as he folded his hands overtop his desk. “You’re a stark change from the usual cadets around here.”

“How so?” you asked, feeling your face sizzling with impending embarrassment.

“You’re a much bigger dumbass than most of them. In the two interactions we’ve had together, you’ve proven yourself to be quite stubborn. You refuse to die, and yet you also refuse to comply with human nature. The nature in this compound is that I am your captain and I ask you what I ask you not to humiliate you, but to form a solid basis of what I’m dealing with. Eren Jaeger is not a usual situation. I will not have usual reactions. Despite that, I expect you to behave like a cadet should behave. You’ve made your impression. Those are all the questions I have for you today. Report to your quarters, change into uniform, then report here immediately.”

“For what?” you asked, your voice squeaky with humiliation.

“For janitorial service. Problem with that?”

His challenging tone was just daring you to talk back one more time.

You ground your teeth in a hard clench. “No, sir.”

“You are dismissed,” the captain said with a small wave of his pale, slender hand. You could see the scars and callouses that littered the top of his palm even from your seat across the desk.

Standing to your feet, with your fists clenched at your side, you offered Levi a stiff salute; you didn’t mean it, without a doubt, but you didn’t want to risk getting in even more trouble.

“Dismissed, cadet,” the captain said again. “I expect a swift return.”

You have never felt so completely humiliated. The captain had practically gutted you in there. Your legs trembled by the knees as you stormed out of the office.

You paused in your steps, groaning, then you turned around again, making your way back inside.

“Yes, cadet?” the captain asked, sounding exhausted as he immediately pinched his nose in frustration.

“I forgot my room assignment,” you muttered, avoiding meeting his gaze.

“Room seven, girls’ hallway,” he said. “I can write it down if you’d like.”

“No thank you. Sir,” you added before he could bitch again.

It was a slap in the goddamn face to have to march up to your room while knowing you’d have to march back down and face your first ever corporal punishment.

The girls’ hallway was marked by a little plaque on the door. All the doors were made of the same kind of heavy oak with grains and lines from the aged tree it’d been born. No numbers were put up. You had to count a few times, unsure of how the rooms were meant to be numbered. Down one wall, then back the other? Or alternating?

You hesitated to enter the room you thought would be yours. You knocked a couple of times, while pressing your ear up against the door to hear any answers inside.

The room, though muffled, was undeniably silent. You opened up the sticky door, the door swinging into the room.

It was a plain room, but no doubt better than the group bunks you had at the training academy. One unmade cot was pressed up in the left corner. Your familiar trunk of belongings sat on the bare mattress, alongside a set of sheets, a woven quilt, and two dismal pillows.

There were no windows; rather the light source for the rest of your days here would be the oil lamp or the three large candles sitting on the pathetic looking desk pushed up against the north facing wall.

Wow. You sure got lucky with room number seven, you bitterly think to yourself as you slam the door shut behind you. Stalking forward you could feel the slight pain in your back as you threw open your trunk. You felt relieved to see your belongings packed in it. It must have been brought after the attack.

As you sifted through, looking for your uniform, you felt rage boiling in the pit of your stomach. The prickly, uptight Captain Ackerman had an easy time brushing off your attitude and asking you insensitive questions about Eren. Who knows what Eren’s feeling right now? His experience compared to the others that suffered in Trost is entirely different, but likely just as traumatic. You couldn’t imagine how he was feeling.

Really, you couldn’t imagine how anyone was feeling.

You thought back to Fable, her baby Bree, and that boy who was just around your age, whose name you’d forgotten. You felt nauseous as you imagine the fate that could have befallen them after they left with your horse.

You didn’t want to know the details. You’d rather go on the rest of your life assuming they made it to their little farm in Fairkelt by Stohess.

Just as you didn’t want to know the details of their adventure, you certainly didn’t want to know what happened in Trost after your injury. You feel lucky for not remembering the injury itself, or your apparent first meeting with Captain Levi Asshole-man.

Four days has been long enough to clear out the titans and assemble the dead.

You took your time buttoning up your shirt as you tried to keep the Captain waiting for as long as possible (without getting in even more trouble). Maybe if you just barricade your door, he’ll give up and let you go on your way.

Doubtful.

You shoved your feet into your knee high boots, strapping up the buckles as you eyed your trunk you’d moved to the floor. It was a little bit pitiful to look at the small room and realize you didn’t even have enough belongings to fill it up. There wasn’t even enough clothing to constitute owning a wardrobe.

You kicked the trunk out of the way as you stalked out of the seventh bedroom in the girls’ hallway.

Your back did feel stiff and achy as you sped walked to Captain Ackerman’s office.

As you walked down the stairs, you could see him waiting outside of his office door, leaning against the door frame with a bucket of water and a lame mop.

“Reporting for janitorial duty, sir,” you scowled as you salute him. The captain simply gestured for you to take the mop. “In the future,” he said as you took the handle, “you will be expected to know where the cleaning supplies are, as you will have to get them yourself,”

“Thank you so much, sir,” you scowled again.

“Cadet, your attitude is the reason you’re doing this,” the captain said carefully. “I would suggest keeping that attitude of yours in check for the duration of your stay.”

If you had the balls to do it, you would have made a retort featuring something about his height. It was surprising how short he was. You couldn’t tell by him simply sitting, but on his feet, he didn’t even exceed 5-foot-four.

You chose to keep your mouth shut the way he’d so lovingly suggested.

You dunked the mop head into the water before slapping it against the stone floor. “Happy mopping, cadet. I’ll make sure to leave my office door open if you have any questions. I except the hallway and the staircase to be done after thirty minutes. Then we can review your next cleaning assignment.”

Thirty minutes, you think angrily as the captain turns his back on you to retreat into his stupid office. Just how long would this little punishment last?

You got to work mopping the hallway outside of the captain’s door; his office seemed to be the only one down here, so you didn’t have any luck of running into your acquaintances. While you wanted to ask him about any of them, you had a small feeling he’d be of little help.

You supposed that you couldn’t blame him. If he truly were managing Eren Jaeger’s case, he must have an enormous amount of work he needs to get done. Your testimony, though filled with ‘attitude’ may have helped him some, and he needs to properly log it. How stressful.

Such a job would produce wrinkles in the forehead.

Looking at him as he works, you can see that while he may be older than you, his face is rather smooth. You’d peg him to be in his later twenties.

You were stunned to look from his office to the corridor, and seeing a young woman approaching. You blushed. You didn’t want her to think strangely of you for continually glancing into the Captain’s office.

“Good afternoon, miss cadet,” the woman said kindly. You lamely gathered a salute as you got caught in the warmth of her eyes. She was incredibly beautiful. She had soft hazel eyes, and wavy reddish brown hair that tickled her chin and neck.

“Is Captain Levi available?”

Levi must have heard the woman’s voice. He quickly stood to his feet, pushing down his stack of papers and striding out of the office.

“Petra,” he said smoothly. His voice was noticeably kinder than it had been when he had spoken to you.

“Hello Captain,” Petra replied with a voice so genuinely sweet. “I see you’ve been working hard. Already giving poor cadets janitorial punishments? She’ll never want to join the survey corps now,” she added, throwing a small wink your way.

You would have laughed if you weren’t so flabbergasted by the captain’s change in demeanor.

So he could be nice! You supposed any one would be nice to a young woman as pretty and charming as Petra. So, that’s not you. Not that it matters.

You don’t need the captain to like you, mostly because you have no intention of staying in the survey corps longer than you have to. You’d certainly had enough of death and destruction to last you an entire lifetime. The Garrison unit just made sense.

It’s not as if you had any other options.

You did your best not to eavesdrop on the conversation Levi and Petra were having. You mostly wanted to listen for details on any of your friends, maybe even Reiner or Krista. Any familiar mention of the two would make you feel somewhat better for being trapped here.

“L/n,” the Captain called.

You jolt with a start. You cast your eyes into the office, the sole point you’d been trying to avoid until now. “Yes, captain?” you asked meekly. His gaze combined with Petra’s made you feel strangely sick.

“Finish up with the staircase,” he said dismissively, immediately turning his attention back to Petra, as if he hadn’t just spoken to you. “Then you’ll be escorted to the mess hall for dinner.”

You blinked back tears of absolute ignominy.

Petra noticed how you’d been silently struck by the captain’s curt words, and she tugged his sleeve, whispering something to him with her eyebrows sternly furrowed.

You weren’t sure that you could bare the weight of their eyes any longer, or even the potentially cruel response from the captain.

You strained to pick up your bucket. You knelt down, wincing at the strain it put on your stiches. The flat soles of your boots left imprints on the wet floor as you slowly walked up the stairs of the spiral case.

Water sloshed over the bucket as you struggled to place it somewhere constructive. Rather than listen to Petra and the Captain, you tried to decide how the hell you would go about mopping stairs. It was very compelling as you tried to block out the small laughs that Petra let out downstairs as they discussed the “shitty new batch of cadets.”

You felt slightly unnerved at the thought of the captain shit talking you to Petra. What did you ever do to that man?

You’d done nothing. You couldn’t be expected to not get angry when the captain likes a dickhead. You dunked your mop into the bucket before you sloshed the head of it around on the first step.

As long as Captain Ackerman is apart of this corps, you’d never, ever join. You would rather slap the man in the face then tell him to shoved. Straight up a titan’s-

A slight scream left your mouth as you felt the heel of your boot pushed the bucket of water back. It clunked against the steps, spilling the water across the way and gathering beneath your boots. The flat soles did nothing to save you as you felt the entire world tipping backwards.

You tumbled down the hard set of stairs, shrieking so abruptly at the pain that you bit your tongue hard.

It was a hard thump at the bottom of the steps, your head cracking against the stone floor.

“Oh, m--!”

You could hardly hear the rushing footsteps to your side as Petra’s light feet slapped against the floor.

Her light head of hair appeared over you, her eyes wide as she knelt down to your side.

“Are you alright?”

No. You were not alright. You were laying in a pool of your own blood because your stitches pulled open. You opened your mouth to reply, to maybe even ask for help, but the blood from your tongue seeped out in a mixture of your saliva.

This seemed to truly frighten Petra as she called for the captain.

“No,” you begged her, wiping your mouth as you tried to sit up. “Not the captain.”

“Christ, L/n,” the captain swore as he exited the office. “I only asked you to mop. Is that something to throw yourself down the stairs over?”

He came to your side, just by Petra. He rolled the white sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows as he examined your wounds. “Ah, shit,” he muttered.

You flinched under the captain’s touch. His arm swept underneath your back, pulling you to sit upright. His hand tugged at the blood soaked hem of your shirt. His palm felt warm against your wound. “Shit,” he said again. “Okay, you’re going to the surgery.”

“No,” you said quickly. You used the back of your mouth to wipe the spit from your mouth. “I just came out of there.”

Petra looked horrified at your words. She whirled her head towards the captain. “She just came out of the medical unit,” she gasped. “And you already had her go onto janitorial service?”

Levi looked flabbergasted. He didn’t bother to say anything. Surprisingly, he just kept his mouth shut as he swept his other arm beneath your legs. You tried to push out of his arms as he rose to his feet.

You were slightly shocked at how strong he was, especially considering his height.

“Medical unit,” the captain said sternly. “Now.”

“I can walk there,” you argued, still squirming under the feeling of his strong hand clasped across your wound.

He met your eyes with his own. It was a strange sight. Up close, his eyes were less dark. They were a smoky grey, with little wisps of crystalline blue seemingly fracked into the irises.

“Let me do my job, cadet,” Levi said as he continued to carry you down the hall.

You felt so close to tears as you earned glances of confusion from the wandering soldiers. While the captain didn’t seem to mind, you really did. You hated feeling so exposed and helpless to a person you didn’t even know. You fought in the Trost battle, for Wall’s sake! You could make it to the surgery all on your own.

Shame doused over you as Levi kicked the door of the surgery open, immediately demanding a bed and attention for you. You hated the way he said your name. Cadet Y/n L/n sounded almost like an insult. It didn’t take a genius to know that the captain doesn’t like you very much; perhaps some reason is your own fault. Even so, you felt like you didn’t deserve to be judged based off a first interaction.

Or, second interaction, if you count the captain’s claim that he met you during Trost. You couldn’t remember that no matter how hard you tried, in the same way you couldn’t remember Fable’s friend’s name.

Kathie Perrine stalked towards you and Levi, rolling her eyes practically to the back of her head when she recognized you. “Back for more?” she asked you.

She gestured a thin hand to one of the made beds.

You tried to crawl out of Levi’s hold. He didn’t let you. Instead, he placed you gently on the mattress.

And then he left.

You looked after him, shocked that he had managed to be so nimble and graceful looking even with his hand covered in your blood. You blushed as Kathie approached you, looking not as gentle as Levi had been. “What happened?”

You started to unbutton your shirt as she gestured for you, mumbling in a low voice, “I fell down the stairs.”

“You fell down the stairs?” Kathie said for confirmation. A little part of you was willing to be that she was repeating it to rub it in your face. She sighed. “Well, lay on your stomach girl. I’m going to have to close them up.”

You cringed. “Is there any way for me to be unconscious during this procedure?” You begged.

“Not unless you want me to hit you over the head with a lead pipe,” the doctor said. “I can give you a drink of whiskey, though,” she added hopefully.

You accepted.

You downed the two shots Kathie measured out for you before turning to lay on your stomach. Her hands were cold against the sticky, warm mess of your wounded back. They didn’t feel anything like the captain’s had.

You tried to focus on the captain’s hand as Kathie made the first stitch.

You wonder if he felt bad, at all. You wonder if he’s discussing just how lame and clumsy you are with Petra. Sure, a small part of you knows you slipped on your own accord, but majority of your brain blames the captain. He had to have known you’d just gotten out of the medical unit.

Oh, but maybe that’s just how it works in adult life. Perhaps you’re just used to being coddled by Commander Sadies; it was strange, thinking that Sadies was the nice one in comparison to the 5′3 captain.

“So, what happened?” Kathie asked.

You clutched onto a pillow, trying not to tear the fabric apart and release the feathers. “I fell down the stairs while mopping.”

Kathie snorted a laugh. You didn’t exactly appreciate it.

“Well,” she said, “I suppose you learned your lesson. I’m tempted to put you on bed rest...but, with Eren Jaeger’s trial coming up, you’ll need to attend.”

You strained your neck to look at Kathie. “Why do I need to attend?”

“The captain wants you to. Captain Ackerman, that is. He’s been postponing this trial for days, waiting for you to wake up. You were a key witness, you know. He was adamant that you attend. You’ll have to go in a wheelchair.”

You dropped your face into your pillow. “’Wheelchair?!’” you repeated, sounding (and feeling) mortified.

“Trust me, there’s lots of soldiers here that would kill to be put onto wheelchair rest. You’ll be in it for a week.”

“What about my room?”

“Hmm,” Kathie hummed as she did one last stitch. “I suppose you’ll be sleeping down here. I can send someone for your belongings, if you wish. Don’t worry, I won’t be too mean to you.”

You winced at the feeling of her stitching, taking comfort when she told you all she needed to do now was bandage you.

There was a small levee on the wall, made from a wooden handle that poured water from the embedded spout as she pulled it. Kathie dunked a cloth into the water bucket and grabbed a roll of cloth bandages from one of the taller cabinets on the wall.

You braced yourself for the freezing water, and hissed as Kathie put the cold washcloth to your skin.

“If you didn’t want to be uncomfortable, you shouldn’t have fallen down the stairs,” Kathie said in cool tone.

You turned your neck once to glare. “The captain put me on janitorial punishment,” you explained, your voice sounding just slightly snotty.

Kathie tutted. “So soon? I’ll have a word with the captain. Not the first time he’s overworked my patients.”

The captain has a history of this?

Ugh.

You pulled your pillow closer to your face. You focused on the fabric threads, your eyes going cross eyed, as you mumbled, “I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“Trust me, kid,” Kathie laughed. “He doesn’t like anyone.”

When the bandages were done, Kathie helped you roll over onto your back.

As you nuzzled down into the bed that would be yours for the next week, you had one thought that stood out against the others. Anyone, except for Petra.

“I’ll bring you a tray of dinner tonight, and with that you can take your painkiller. I’m giving you a stronger dose, so it might make your stomach uneasy. I’ll send someone up for your things here soon, alright?” Kathie set a folded, linen shirt on your lap. You were bracing your chest with the blanket from the cot.

“Alright,” you mumbled as you slowly tugged the cloth over your head. It’s not as though you have a choice. “Miss Perrine?” you call before she can leave.

“Yes?”

Your cheeks felt warm and rosy before you could speak. “Did you, by any chance, treat a patient by the name of Krista Lenz?”

Kathie shook her head without any thought. “She a friend of yours?”

“You could say that,” you shrugged. You didn’t want to feel to sad to hear that. It’s good to know that Krista wasn’t hurt.

“I can ask around. I’ll see if she’s stationed here. Do you want me to let you know?”

You carefully leaned back against the propped up pillow you pushed behind your neck. “That would be lovely,” you murmured. “Thank you, Miss Perrine.”

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chaoticfvckingdisaster · 3 years ago

Text

Hello.

It is the Unus Annus anniversary and I am fuCKING EMOTIONAL

So I will be ranting.

Proceed at your own risk

Unus Annus was such an inspiration to me, and I'm sure a to lot of other people. I never got to finish all of the videos, and that is something I will probably always regret. I was a fan of Mark and Ethan before, but I would've never considered this. I didn’t find Unus Annus at the beginning, I stuck in the middle and rode out through the end.

Unus Annus really had two main messages that stick out to me. They both help different people. One is that the clock is always ticking, and you will never get a single second back. One quote from the final live-stream really struck me in the gut when I heard it the first time. "Seconds turn into minutes that turn into hours that turn into weeks that turn into months that turn into years." And now that I'm thinking about it, that point was so properly explained when a whole year went by without me even really noticing. It's been a year since I stayed in my room all day to watch that live-stream. It feels like 2 months ago. It feels like 50 years have passed. Another quote really got into my head.

"Imagine if you gave yourself one year. To do one thing. Not the craziness that was Unus Annus, but one thing. One year can change your life."

Idk who knows this, but I'm an author. I've been working on the same book series for... 2 years now? And I don't even have a decent outline except for a vague idea. So, purely because of this quote, starting at new years (2022), I will be dedicating 1 year to work on my book.

The second meaning didn’t really apply to me personally. The main idea of Unus Annus was that you have to enjoy something while it lasts, because it will always end and will only exist in your memory. It was really a reality check for people who were used to forms of media (books, shows, movies, yt channels) that lasted forever, cause in this day and age things just don’t go away. But that was the thing, Unus Annus was gone. Everything around it was being painstakingly and carefully paved into cement, but it was scratched into a random piece of wood by two 12 year old boys out playing in the woods. Its not forever, it’s not going to be set in stone, just like everything else. Nothing is set in stone, everything will leave or die or be forgotten eventually, and that’s what Unus Annus taught people. And I think that’s beautiful. It helped people dealing with losses in their own lives. I’ve so many stories online of people who had a loved one pass away that hit them hard, and Unus Annus helped them by both being hilarious and consistent, but also talking about the inevitability of death and how we can’t stop it, we can only accept it.

Unus Annus was by no means a dramatic, poetic masterpiece of a channel. It was a shit-post channel, was what it was. It was two idiots with a camera doing as much as they could in one year. You expect this to be poetic? These idiots stuck themselves inside a cryo-chamber, made molds of each others faces, put fake feet into their pants and made a fucking pee sauna, for goodness sake. This channel was a disaster. And that’s what was amazing about it. It was brilliant, it wasn’t beautifully put together by geniuses focused on only humanities mortality. This was created by two best friends laughing in a restaurant. This was two chaotic man-childs trying to summon demons, messing around with sex toys, and singing bullshit songs. (”iT’s tHe dAnCe oF iTaLy, wOaH WoAh woAH”) It doesn’t have to be Deep™ and Old™. It was beautiful the way it was, ADHD bastard having-a-mental-breakdown-half-the-time Ethan “S- skittle-? skrittle-? no-” Nestor and I-literally-hate-you-so-much-but-only-i-can-insult you Mark “dOn’T tOuCh mE” Fischbach.

Unus Annus’s message is really amazing. They made me view everything in a different light. If a death can bittersweet, no death was more then that of Unus Annus. It’s like an old friend I lost but instead of them reaching out to me or asking for help, they’re gone, and that’s all there is it to it. They’re content and I’m content. Now I must live my life like they taught me.

My greatest accomplishment in life is that out of the 8 billion people on this planet, I was one of the only 1.5 million people that were watching when the clock struck 0. I’ve heard so many stories about that night. People watching it on their tv, people in a video call with their friends all crying, people sitting together in their living room, screaming the countdown. For me, I was sitting alone in my dark bedroom at 2 am. I wasn’t supposed to be awake, but how was I supposed to miss this? I was crying at the end, I think. It’s kinda blurry. I remember leaning forward, my clasped hands pressed to my lips, as I intently watched my phone screen. My world was ending. And yet, my world was just beginning. I still remember the first words that came out of my mouth when the channel was gone. The first thing I said, after all that.

“You motherfuckers.

You motherfuckers. You did it. You actually did it.”

Because they did it. They followed through. And not like ‘oh wow you actually deleted it’, but they followed through. Do you know how much determination that takes? They posted a video everyday, a majority of the time needing them going over to Mark’s house, during the middle of the pandemic. And they posted every day for a whole year. Not to mention having to be consistent on their own channels. And then followed through with their promise to delete everything. That takes a level of determination you just don’t usually see in youtube today.

Anyway, this post has gotten way too long. Unus Annus touched my soul and changed me in so many ways. It was and still is such a big and amazing part of my life. It truly was a masterpiece that meant so, so much to me and a lot of other people. Truly, nothing will ever compare to it. It cannot be recreated. It was a first, and it will go down in youtube history. And I really, really hope people don’t forget about the miracle youtube channel that was Unus Annus.

#unus annus #memento mori #ethan nestor #crankgameplays #mark fischbach #markiplier #camp unus annus #i wish i could write research papers with this much passion

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stillebesat · 4 years ago

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Catch Me (If You Can) -Part 1

December Drabbles Day 17 Sanders Shorts: Remy Sanders Sides: Logan Blurb: Remy would not allow himself to be seen as needy and helpless in front of the general masses. He had an image to uphold. One of perfect health, snarky comebacks, and general sassiness. He didn’t get sick. Fic Type: Sick!Fic, Guardian!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Sickness, Fainting, Mentions of Religion Taglist in reblog.

He tried to push open a pull door. That’s how Remy knew he was in trouble.

“Gurl. Seriously?” He rasped, wincing at how his voice sounded like he’d been stranded in the Sahara Desert for twelve years.

That wasn’t good.

He needed to sound perfect. Perfectly uncaringly carefree that is. No one needed him sick. No siree. No. Remy would not allow himself to be seen as needy and helpless in front of the general masses. He had an image to uphold. One of perfect health, snarky comebacks, and general sassiness. He didn’t get sick.

The fact that the words ‘PULL’ were dancing right in front of his bloodshot eyes and he’d still tried to push open the freaking door was beside the point.

Remy swallowed in a failed attempt to soothe the fire burning his throat to a crisp as he drew up his flagging energy to pull open said door. Pushing would have been so much easier. Taken less energy. Energy Remy was barely managing to keep above empty at the moment. No, if the cool glass door had only allowed him to let his weight fall against it in order to gain access into the local cafe that the interwebs claimed had a cure-all chicken based chili that could fix any illness within the hour, they both would have been much better off.

Hopefully this was more of a fifteen minute cure. Remy would be spending the last of his money on this soup. He didn’t have an hour to feel better. Not after being laid up in his closet sized bedroom for the past two days with nothing but water in his apartment. He had places to be, a midterm exam to nail and a delightful after party to attend.

Adjusting his sunglasses, Remy walked-he did not stagger!-inside and paused to take in the place as the first nauseating wift of eggs and bacon hit his nose.

Quaint.

That was the first word that came to his spinning mind. A quaint little cafe that practically screamed fifties country diner. Warm. Inviting. Probably run by a white-haired grandmother who adopted all the college kids as her precious grandchildren and piled their plates high with food to ensure that they got a ‘proper meal.’

At least that’s what he thought normal grandmothers did. His old hag had lived off of bread and butter for so long Remy doubted the creature masquerading as his granny knew other food existed. She certainly hadn’t when he’d been forced to stay weekends there as a kid.

Focus.

Remy tugged at the collar of his jacket, already feeling sweat running down his back and prickling on his forehead. Too Warm. Grandma needed to turn on the AC.

Focus.

There were far more of his peers hanging out here than he’d expected, doubling vision to be ignored, and he did not want to make a fool of himself by throwing up two steps inside the building.

Remy took a shallow breath to avoid smelling more eggs. This soup better be heaven sent, because if it smelt anything like whatever was currently cooking...he doubted he would be able to keep it down.

“--lp you?”

Remy blinked, lowering his sunglasses as he turned to the singular cadentic voice that cut through the buzzing in his head and promptly forgot that his lungs worked.

If the soup wasn’t angelic, the help certainly was.

Tall, lithe, with sharp sapphire eyes accentuated perfectly by a pair of glasses. The man standing at the counter was like the handsome stranger one meets in a romcom. That or one of those cherubic angels -minus the tropey golden locks- he’d been forced to stare at whenever the old hag had dragged him to church.

Remy pushed his shades back up, hiding his bloodshot eyes. What sort of deal with God had this Grandma made to have such a dark haired handsome glass of yesness working for her?

The man raised a singular perfect eyebrow. “Can I help you?” He repeated in that same melodious voice.

Remy nodded, not yet trusting himself to speak without sounding like a harpy in the face of such a wonderful tone.

Focus.

First approach.

Sticking his hands in his jacket pockets, Remy sauntered -he did not sway not at all, he was in perfect control of his balance thank you- up to the counter and leaned against it, offering his most dazzling smile to the man.

Moment of truth.

“Hey, honeycakes.” He said keeping his tone low to prevent the rasp in his voice from being heard. “Where’s your Halo? Cus you, my dear, are quite the Angel.”

Nailed it.

The man pursed his lips in a thin line, his head moving in the slightest of shakes. “Unfortunately, we’re out of honey cakes, sir.” He said, tilting his head to the display of desserts in the glass next to him. “But our triple death by chocolate cake will send you,” his hands moved to form air quotations -who did that anymore?- “over the edge.”

Ooo was that a threat or an invitation? Remy flashed another smile, tugging at the collar of his jacket. So warm in here. “So long as you’re there to catch me, Honeybee. I’ll gladly leap over any edge for you.”

The man adjusted his black rimmed glasses, moving to the register. “So you want the cake then? That’ll be $3.58. For here or to go?”

Seriously? Remy gaped before clicking his tongue in exasperation and straightened, only to grab the counter to keep himself from falling backwards as his legs nearly buckled.

Focus Darlin. Get in. Get out. Get healthy. Flirt later.

“Actually.” He flinched as his voice grated in his ears. He swallowed, again lowering his tone to hide the soreness of his throat as he rested his elbows on the counter. “I came for your ah--” He flicked his eyes up to the menu overhead, briefly lowering his shades to squint at the wiggling letters. “Chicken Chili a la Cluck.”

A spark of recognition flashed in the Angel’s eyes. “Ah, you are under the weather?”

“Wha--NO!” Shoot. Was it that obvious? “No, ma’am!” His voice cracked as Remy jerked his hand up in the scout salute. “On my honor it's for a….” He trailed off. Well that was a pretty pickle. How the blazes could he lie if he was promising on his honor?

The man crossed his arms the faintest of smiles appearing on his lips. “Let me guess? A friend?”

Was that excuse used a lot then? He shrugged, shivering as a chill ran down his back. Geez, Grandma had cranked the AC up a little too high now. The place was going to freeze over any second. “I just wanted a taste of home-made soup is all.” He managed, rubbing his arms. “To go.”

Handsome remained silent, seemingly staring straight into his soul, bright blue eyes analyzing him like a hawk about to swoop down upon a rabbit.

Geez. He was no rabbit! Remy fixed a smile on his face, ignoring how his gums ached. Don’t show weakness. Not in front of his peers. He was fine. He totally didn’t feel like his knees were going to buckle at any second. Not at all. He could hold it together for a few minutes longer.

Abruptly the man nodded, releasing Remy from his analyzing stare as he pushed his glasses up so that the glare of the lights overhead on the lenses hid his eyes.

A pity. He could stare into those glorious eyes all day long.

“Of course, Total is $4.78 for the half size.”

Perfect. He only had a five anyways. “Ah, Sugarbee, truly you are an angel to provide me with such an affordable price for homemade goodness.” He purred, shifting slightly to fish out his limp wallet from his back pocket. This soup better be divine. If he kept up this conversation much longer his throat truly would catch fire.

The man raised an eyebrow, holding out his hand. “I am not the one to thank for deciding prices, sir.”

Sure sure. Grandma was the one who did, sweet soul that she was, making things affordable for all her poor adopted college children.

“I’m sure if such an angelic being such as yourself set the prices then they would be even more heavenly.” Remy swallowed wishing the soup already was in his grasp as he finally pulled out the crumpled bill, fingers betraying him by trembling. “Even so, you can keep the--”

The Angel’s cool fingers brushed his own, feeling like a breath of fresh air on a hot summer’s day. Remy’s breath caught in his throat, hazy mind short-circuiting at the unexpected touch. How he wanted to take those hands and-- GET A GRIP REMY! “--change.” He choked out, dropping his hand to the counter before he did something even more stupid than pushing on the pull door.

Smooth. Real smooth. Geez Gurl. Keep it together!

But that didn’t stop his fingers from tingling, nor from the room suddenly feeling like a sauna. What had happened to the arctic temperatures freezing him two minutes ago?

The man huffed, slipping the five into the till. “Your soup will be out momentarily, sir.” He said, dropping the coins into the nearby tip jar with an all too loud clink. “If you could step aside so I could help the next customer in line?”

Remy glanced behind him, lowering his glasses. Internally he cursed as he took in the gaggle of people he could barely focus on. Shoot. When had they come in?! He usually was more aware of that sort of thing.

“Relax, Specs.” Said the guy right behind him, wearing a simple red shirt that showed off nicely toned arms.

Specs? What an ugly nickname. The Angel behind him was far more than his glasses.

“I don’t mind the wait.” Red flashed a smile to Remy. “It’s not everyday I get to witness someone flirting with you.”

Really? He had to have misheard that. “Who wouldn’t flirt with him?” Remy asked, casually straightening slowly enough that his vision wouldn’t tunnel. “Honeybee here is absolutely…” He gestured to give himself a chance to swallow back the agony rising in his throat. “Divine.”

Red’s grass green eyes sparked with humor as he looked beyond Remy. “So I keep telling him.”

“You tell me yes, and we both know you’re prone to drastic exaggeration.” His Angel stated, barely twitching as the chef rang the bell, placing a to-go bowl within range for ‘Specs’ to reach if he would simply turn around and grab Remy’s food. “Now are you going to order or are you just here to antagonize me at work again?” He asked.

“Mmmm. Gurl. No. No.” Remy shook his head, whirling to fully face his cadentic Angel and promptly regretted it, placing a hand on the counter as his knees almost buckled. Hold on. Hold on. He was fine. “Ah--” He forced a smile to his face, fighting to see through his darkening shades, to look into those wondrous eyes. “Red here---no---doesn’t lie. You are an….an….ange--” The words suddenly felt heavy on his tongue as the diner tilted, the pressure of the cool marble top fading from his fingers as he fell backwards.

“HEY!”

A band of ice wrapped around his wrist, jerking Remy upwards. His eyes fluttered open enough to see his Angel lunging over the counter, one hand holding his, the other clenching onto his jacket, saving his head from hitting the tile floor.

Well how about that?

“You…caught me.” He whispered in stunned disbelief as his Angel’s bright blue eyes seemed to fill his entire world before everything went black.

To Be Continued Part 2

#Catch Me (If You Can)#December Drabbles #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Remy #Logan #Sleep #Logic #Sick!Remy #Sick!Fic #Guardian!AU #sickness tw #mentions of religion tw #fainting tw #December Day 17

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jeanjauthor · 3 years ago

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Been watching a fair bit of anime lately, and one of my favorites is That Time I Reincarnated As A Slime. It’s a fantasy-adventure isekai (someone from a world like ours either teleported or reincarnated into a fantasy realm with their memories intact, receiving new abilities, etc. The main character Rimuru if one of the latter, a good guy leading a normal life who dies in our world, and in his dying wishes gets a certain set of skills and powers, and reincarnates as a slime with his intelligence and memories intact.

He may technically be a monster, but he’s still a good person, so as he makes his way into this new world & new life, he’s constantly trying to be a good person, and encouraging others to be good as well. There are 2 seasons out, a little over half of them are dubbed as well as subbed (subtitles, cc)...and they have a side-series, The Slime Diaries: That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime.

It’s the latter I want to talk about here. While the main series has a mix between lighthearted & comedic, and serious & kickass (there are deaths, blood, gore, etc...also lots of “boingy” cleavage abounding (pun intended)), the Slime Diaries are meant to be much more of a series of slice-of-life tales told as if they came out of a diary. Everyday events, for the most part, and not always a single story for the whole episode.

It is, in fact, a version of Organic Genre, which is a genre we tumblrites figured out how to define a while back. A type of storytelling that shows people interacting in ordinary circumstances in ordinary ways, without needing to “advance the plotline to defeat the Big Bad Evil Guy / Save the Princess / Develop the Cure” etc.

The Slime Diaries is slice-of-life because it shows slices of everyday life. In this case, the life of a bunch of monsters and humanoids working to improve their city, their lives, their incomes, and the occasional beach episode. It can be an argument between Samwise & Gollum about Po-Tay-Toes, or it can be hobgoblins and dwarves figuring out together how to plant young rice seedlings in a flooded paddy for the first time. The “all-important” Defeat The Big Bad Enemies stuff happens over in the main series...so why would anyone bother to watch this slice-of-life stuff?

Because many of us honestly enjoy that kind of story, too.

This is something traditional publishing struggles with. If it’s fantasy, it has to have a BBEG or World Disaster to overcome...but...what if it’s just goblins and dwarves learning to get along with each other, putting up nice buildings and planting food crops? Traditional publishers look at that and think, “It’s not going to sell.”

They do this in the exact same way t.v. executives look at science fiction & fantasy show premises, and think “it’s not going to sell” because their medium has traditionally focused 95% or more on real-world stuff, or mostly real-world enough. Slice-of-life to them is situation comedy, and it has to be comedy because if it’s not comedy, it has to be drama, aka dramatic and serious and containing a concrete plot.

Yet clearly The Slime Diaries are highly popular. And more to the point, there is a genuine audience for silce-of-life and other modes of organic genre. The Joe Pera Talks To You series on Adult Swim is “slow life” in style. He doesn’t talk fast, he doesn’t try to do things energetically, and yet he has a following. My Self Reliance over on YouTube has 1.94 million followers, and it’s mostly just a guy trying to build a cabin and a sauna and an outdoor kitchen and an outhouse, and now he’s in a new location with an outhouse, greenhouse, open air shed, and he’s working on a log cabin with a basement/root cellar. I started watching him about 4-ish years ago when he had barely even a hundred thousand followers.

I also watched Primitive Technology way back when he was still posting things. There were others who were doing similar things, but his simple style of showing rather than telling caught on with a lot of viewers, because you didn’t need to speak the same language as him in order to follow along (though he has posted subtitled explanations). He, too, wound up with over a million followers. Many, many others were inspired, some obviously pulling a bit of fakery, others earnestly working on daily life skills with hand tools, etc.

Nor is that the only kind of show. I watch Simple Living Alaska, which are the adventures and efforts of a kind and happy, sweet-natured married couple as they work on growing & preserving food, hunting & fishing, hiking & snowshoeing, living in a “dry cabin” up in the wilds of south central Alaska, where they literally have to run a generator to pump water for all of their daily household needs, cut and split their own lumber for fuel to keep warm in winter, so on and so forth.

They do engage in the occasional building project, but mostly they just...film their daily life, doing slice-of-life stuff, occasional mild adventures, talking about how and why they preserve foods, how fermenting works, sourdough versus yeast, the cheese they make at home, how to tend & keep bees when it’s -30F in winter, on and on and on. They’ve done “eat for a month only what we’ve harvested ourselves (minus salt & spices)” challenges and “different ways to cook & eat potatoes” and tested various pickled egg recipes. It all springs organically from what they’re already doing, they’re sharing it with everyone else, and they already have over half a million viewers.

There is an audience out there for organic & slice-of-life storytelling.

Don’t be afraid to write it, if that is the kind of storytelling you like & want yourself.

You will find your audience out there...and they will find you.

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shutupandshipit · 4 years ago

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Coming Home - Part 1

Summary: When Katsuki stepped off the plane, he was greeted with the familiar heat of Musutafu in summer. Humidity like he was sitting in a sauna. He'd been all over America in the past five and a half years, but nothing was quite like the weather of home. It could be similar, primarily along the east coast, but just not quite the same. Just similar.

Breathing in deeply, he gripped the small hand in his and started down the ramp to where he could see Best Jeanist leaning against a car with illegally blacked out windows. Katsuki idly wondered if he was absolutely roasting in his hero uniform.

"Your hand is sweaty, Papa."

"Your's isn't much better, little monster."

.....

Or where Katsuki disappeared to America to find someone to make prostheses for him. He was gone for five and a half years, and returns with a little tag-a-long.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T (just for language mostly)

Chapter: 1/2

Next -> Part 2

Follow-on: Christmas Preemie

Author’s Note: I wrote this primarily because I wanted to write Katsuki and his daughter with prostheses, but this has a lot of different fic ideas rolled into one for me. On top of that, we get to see the reappearance of Katsumi from one of my other fics only older. She's my go to any time I write Katsuki and Izuku with a child, though none of the others are published. I just love writing her.

Part 1: the forecast calls for tears

"Where's Kacchan?" Izuku was sitting up in his hospital bed, pillows piled up behind him to keep him from straining his back. His eyes were flat, lacking all their usual light as they stared blankly at the empty bed to his side. He couldn't have known Katsuki had occupied that bed for the better part of a week, no logical reason anyway, but he did. He could still smell him there even though the sheets were new and crisp and untouched. He and his alpha mourned the distance.

Ochako and Kirishima glanced at each other while the rest of his classmates shuffled meaningfully.

When they didn't speak, Izuku turned those unnervingly blank eyes towards them. "How long was I asleep?"

Ochako chaffed her hands against her skirt before pressing her fingertips together. "You were in a coma for a month."

Izuku's eyes traveled over his classmates. Ex-classmates. Graduated classmates. Fellow heroes. They'd been graduated for a year now, but still, they came running when they heard he'd woken up. Tenderness bubbled quietly up in his chest. He could always count on them. Except for when they thought they were protecting him from something.

Even now, a month after the final battle with the League, the one where everyone had gotten hurt and some killed, he could see their wounds. Not physically. All of that had been healed long before he'd woken up, but in the way they stood. Straighter. Stiffer. Favoring arms or legs. In the way they looked at him.

"Where's Kacchan?" he asked again, and this time, he saw the looks that passed between them. The downcast eyes. The shuffling. It was uncomfortably reminiscent of the way they'd acted after the training camp when he'd failed to save Katsuki. "Where. Is. He?"

Kirishima swallowed, eyes wet. "Best Jeanist took him to America."

The words dropped into his head with a hollow 'plink'. It took him several minutes of slow blinking to understand. Too long. His mind felt drug slow. So much slower than his usual thoughts. Out of the confusion, he pulled only one thought. 'He left me. He left before I woke up. He left me.'

"I don't understand," he whispered slowly. 'He left me. He left me. He left me.'

"He- During the battle- He-" Kirishima couldn't get the words out, tears tracking down his cheeks. He wouldn't meet Izuku's eyes. No one would.

Anger bubbled up slowly, but there was no heat to it. No substance. It was just there like the affection. But they were separate from him. He felt empty. Like he could grab the emotions and study them, but not truly feel them.

Todoroki was the one to speak, voice affectless and calm. At least Izuku could always trust him to never hold back. Never tempered by affection or frustration. "During the battle after you'd been taken out, he was protecting you. He'd gone feral and went to far. He lost an arm and a leg."

A rush of emotion punched Izuku in the chest. He looked away as a keening cry burst from him, staring at the empty bed. He didn't want to imagine how Katsuki had felt, lying in that bed, crippled with the knowledge that his career as a hero had been stolen from him. Stolen by Izuku. The person who was supposed to protect him. Katsuki was right to leave. Right to never make that mating bond Izuku had desperately wanted.

Todoroki continued despite the others hissing for him to stop. "Best Jeanist took him to America to seek out someone who could make him prostheses. Originally, they were going to find someone in Japan, but the Americans have more advanced prostheses currently. There's rumors that their prosthetic engineers can return a hero to service without much difference in their previous performance."

Lifting trembling hands, Izuku covered his face. His tears. His shame. He was broken, and he didn't want them to see that. A broken, useless hero. "Did we at least win?" he asked instead of the other question that urged to be asked. 'Is he going to come back?'

"Yes," Yaoyorozu said, but her voice was softer than it would normally be. It was unthinkable that she was unhappy about winning.

'But at what cost?' No one voiced the thought, but it hung in the room like a haze. 'But at what cost?'

Izuku sobbed, unable to curl in on himself because of the stiff bandaging still around his torso.

Ochako reached for him, hand resting on his forearm. "He told us to tell you that he's sorry."

Izuku let out a unrestrained wail. Everyone crowded around his bed, but their proximity wasn't a comfort. Only one person would be, but if he were there, Izuku wouldn't need comfort.

.....

When Katsuki stepped off the plane, he was greeted with the familiar heat of Musutafu in summer. Humidity like he was sitting in a sauna. He'd been all over America in the past five and a half years, but nothing was quite like the weather of home. It could be similar, primarily along the east coast, but just not quite the same. Just similar.

"Your hand is sweaty, Papa."

"Your's isn't much better, little monster," he told the little girl. They held tight to each other to keep her from falling if she slipped. She was clumsy on the best of days, but anxiety made it worse. And she was a very anxious child as it was. At the bottom of the steps, he dried his hand on his pants. "Hold on. Let me put your hair up. You're going to sweat to death in this humidity otherwise. Here, drink some water." He handed her a bottle in exchange for her bright red scrunchy, and swept her mane of green curls into a high ponytail.

He watched her closely as she carefully sipped water before taking the bottle for a drink of his own. He wiped away a trickled of water from her chin.

"Thank you," she mumbled, eyes down as she surveyed Best Jeanist from beneath her lashes. Ever observant. "Who is that hero?"

"My boss." Taking her hand again, he led her towards the hero in question. "His hero name is Best Jeanist."

"I would think we're at least friends by this point, Bakugou." Best Jeanist's blue eyes were sharp as they watched the little girl at Katsuki's side. He hadn't seen her since she was a newborn squalling in Katsuki's arms, and he honestly hadn't been expecting to see her again. Katsuki was forever full of surprises. But that had been one of the reasons he'd hired Katsuki after he'd graduated, hadn't it? "I know you don't remember me, but I've known you since you were only a few minutes old. It's good to see you again. You can call me Best Jeanist or Tsunagu." He held out a hand expecting her to be more accustomed to American manners and forms of greeting, but she didn't take.

The little girl turned her eyes up to Katsuki.

"She won't take your hand. She hasn't gotten her quirk under control just yet, and it goes off when she's nervous." He turned soft eyes down to her. "Give him your elbow instead, Sumi."

Nodding, she held out her elbow, and Best Jeanist touched it gently before pulling his hand back. She bowed and stood straight. "My name is Bakugou Katsumi. Can I call you Tsu, Mr. Best Jeanist?"

Taken aback by her formality and forwardness, Best Jeanist nodded. "Whatever you like."

She smiled brightly, and now he could see her complete parentage. He smiled back, the only indication a crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He could never resist that smile as he'd found out from working with her father, the father she hadn't met yet. He wondered if Katsuki had told her about him.

"We should get going, Bakugou," he said, meeting Katsuki's eyes. "The media hasn't caught wind that you're back yet, but I'll warn you, your parents organized a party for you. They haven't left me alone." As if to prove his point, his phone chimed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he showed Katsuki the onslaught of impatient texts from Mitsuki and the inquisitive texts from Masaru. The only difference was that Masaru had stopped several hours before while Mitsuki never had.

Katsuki rolled his eyes, and accepted the small hand that slipped back into his. Sweat slicked palm pressed against sweat slicked palm. "We need to shower first. We've been travelling for almost a day, and Katsumi needs to take a nap beforehand."

"I'll let them now." Best Jeanist was already tapping away. "But the first thing we're doing before the party is getting your phone reactivated. I'm not going to play messenger pigeon forever. Get in." Without another word, he climbed into the driver's seat.

Opening the back door, Katsuki took a moment to secure Katsumi's booster seat. He threw their backs onto the opposite seat. "Alright, in you go." He lifted Katsumi into the car. "Can you buckle yourself like a big girl?"

"Yes," Katsumi chirped and proceeded to do so. She locked the belt in place and tugged on the strap for his inspection.

"Good job." He pressed a kiss to her forehead before closing her door, and rounding the car to the passenger side. After securing his own belt, he rested his elbow on the center console and offered her his hand. She took it happily.

Best Jeanist passed him a set of keys. "I found an apartment close to the agency. Your things arrived yesterday, but you'll have to unpack. Figured you would prefer to do that yourself over someone touching your things."

Katsuki nodded, and pocketed the keys.

.....

Izuku nearly dropped his phone down a storm drain when the text from Kirishima came through. From a stream of dirty water, a picture of Kirishima and Mina's smiling faces with a reluctantly frowning Katsuki squished between them stared up at him. He didn't retrieve the cell until two messages buzzed through in quick succession, sending his phone closer to the yawning opening of the drain. The first text was an address he didn't recognize, and the other was, 'When do you get off? The party's in full swing!'

What party? No one had ever told him about a party. No one had told him about Katsuki coming back. Annoyance reared its head, but he completely obliterated it with the burning desire to see Katsuki again. He couldn't blame them after the state he'd been in the year Katsuki had left. It took him a long time to return to some form of normalcy, and even then, he'd never been the same. He didn't want to admit or imagine what he would have been like with the knowledge of Katsuki's return. Insufferable probably.

More pictures buzzed in from all of his other friends at the party before he found it in him to reply. 'Soon. I'll be there soon.' It took him a moment to realize that maybe that didn't sound like a real reply, and that actually he didn't get off soon. But maybe-

At his side, Burnin suddenly snarled.

Swiftly, he tucked the phone away lest she break that one too. At least four phones had been sacrificed to her wrath in all the years he'd been working with her. "Sorry, Burnin. I'll turn it off."

"Don't fucking bother, just go."

"What?" Burnin wasn't one for kindness and this seemed very closely related to kindness. "We've still got four hours left."

"I don't give a shit. You're fucking useless when you're distracted, and I don't want to look at your face. You look like a kicked puppy. It's irritating. You'll take my next shift with Shouto. I hate working with that little fuck." She pushed her hair off her shoulder self-importantly, glaring at the passersby. "Ugh. Whatever. Let me call the boss."

Before she could reach for her ear-piece, Endeavor's voice roared across the line. "Deku!"

The pair flinched, and Izuku pressed his fingers to his own ear-piece. "Go for Deku."

"Go home! Coals is taking your spot! Tell Shouto to leave me alone, I'm trying to work!"

Izuku and Burnin exchanged a look. Todoroki wasn't someone who took to bothering people on purpose, and he wasn't someone who willingly interacted with Endeavor. There was a first for everything, Izuku guessed. "How far out is Coals?"

"Doesn't matter! Just got the fuck home! And call Shouto!"

"Copy," Izuku said, and the network went silent again. "Your shift with Shouto is tomorrow, right? I'll be there. Have a good day off."

Burnin huffed, but didn't say anything as he launched himself into the air. He typed in Todoroki's number, grinning.

.....

Katsuki was exhausted. He hadn't taken a nap when Katsumi had, and he'd been at the party for hours. The appearance of Izuku and then the nerd's subsequent avoidance of him had only made him irritable and turn down his hearing aids to a dull buzz in his ears. Alcohol might have made it easier, but not while Katsumi was there.

She was keeping herself occupied with Kaminari, Ochako and some brats that he still wasn't sure belonged to who. But he didn't drink if his daughter was around. Realistically, he didn't want anyone to drink around her, but that would have been more unreasonable than he was nowadays.

He stared pointedly at Izuku across the coffee table from him, and with his hearing aids down, didn't hear Katsumi's quiet voice. She tugged on his sleeve, startling him out of his reverie. Turning up his hearing aid, he asked, "What is it, little monster? Do you need to use the bathroom? I know they don't have a stool."

Katsumi shook her head, freed curls bouncing all around her. Mina had braided her hair, but didn't know how to trap all her curls so there were more than a few that had popped out all over her head. She looked aggrieved and a little apologetic as she glanced at Izuku. She motioned Katsuki down until she could cup her hands around his ear. "My legs hurt, Papa. And... I'm too scared to talk to Daddy. I don't know if you want him to know. I know he doesn't."

Now, Katsuki was aggrieved. Shamed as he caught Izuku's eyes on them. He hadn't wanted Katsumi to grow up without knowing who her father was, so he'd fed her stories and news feeds of Izuku, but the person the media portrayed was very different from the fact of him. The person Katsuki's own biased betrayed was different.

Standing, Katsuki lifted her into his arms. She was light and small, but still, she was getting big. Soon, he wouldn't be able to hold her like that. She laid her head on his shoulder, and his heart clenched with the knowledge of the impending loss.

"We're gonna head out, Mom, Dad. We've got a long day tomorrow," he said as everyone looked up at him.

Activity swirled around them as people stood to gather belongings and spouses and brats, shoving trash in bags that they took as they said their goodbyes. Katsuki was hugged more times than he could almost stand.

When Izuku stood and made to follow Ochako, Iida and Todoroki, Katsuki caught his eye.

"Lend me your ear and a hand," Katsuki said, shoving Katsumi's car seat into his arms to prevent him from protesting.

Izuku followed Katsuki home silently, a feat he didn't know Izuku could accomplish. He remained silent when they got back to the apartment as Katsuki shepherded Katsumi through their nightly routine; wash face, brush teeth, tie back hair, file nails, glass of water. Then he set her in front of Izuku as she fidgeted with the edge of her nightshirt, a piece of Deku merchandise.

Izuku smiled gently. "Hi. I didn't get to meet you at the party. My name is Midoriya Izuku."

"I know," she mumbled, but didn't say anymore.

Katsuki swallowed, uncomfortably nervous. He stood behind her, hands on her shoulders. After a moment of tense silence, he sighed shakily. Izuku glanced up at him questioningly. God, Izuku was still so fucking oblivious. Couldn't he see himself in her? Didn't he understand? "Deku, don't freak out. This is Katsumi."

"Okay? Why would I freak out?" Izuku asked cautiously.

He repressed a growl, and tried to keep his voice as even as possible. He knew this day would eventually come. He didn't want her to grow up fatherless, but he could have planned better. Sent him pictures, letters, a text, anything. But he'd been freaked out after finding out that he was pregnant, especially right after loosing his arm and leg. Leaving for America had been as much to get replacements as to run away from Izuku. "This is Bakugou-Midoriya Katsumi."

Izuku went stock still, pleasant smile plastered to his face.

When he didn't move and Katsumi kept shuffling, he sighed. "Come on, baby, let's finish getting you ready. Bathroom and then chair." Katsumi peed and then Katsuki set her in her wheel chair. "Legs," he instructed, but she'd already lifted them.

Pushing up the hem of her shirt, he found the edge of the synthetic skin that covered her prostheses and peeled the fabric away. One and then the other. Titanium glinted at them, and she looked away, jaw clenched. Despite his best efforts, he knew she hated looking at them. Knew they made her different from all of the others kids, kids who had been her friends before she'd lost her legs.

There was a sharp inhale at their side, but he ignored Izuku.

"Sumi," Katsuki said gently, waiting until she looked at him, "You're beautiful and strong, little monster. Do you want to hold my hand?"

She nodded emphatically, and Katsuki positioned her legs so they'd slide into his lap instead of dropping to the floor before holding out a hand. She gripped it tightly.

"On three," he said, maintaining eye contact, "One... two... three." He disengaged her legs in quick succession, and she flinched. Her eyes slammed shut, fingers tightening in his, but remained quiet. "All done. You did amazing, baby."

She nodded, but didn't let go of his hand or open her eyes.

Clenching his jaw, he twisted off one leg and then the other and set them off to the side. He grabbed her other hand, rubbing circles into the backs of her hands until her grip relaxed. She squinted crimson eyes at him. "Time for bed. How about I carry you? Deku can bring your legs and chair. Do you want a story?" She shook her head no, but raised her arms when he stood. He bundled her against his chest, much lighter without the weight of her legs. Again, she laid her head on his shoulder.

When he turned, he was happy Katsumi couldn't see Izuku's expression. Unfiltered horror. Anger. Need. Pain. But also, pure unconditional love of the kind only Izuku could possess. His face cycled through emotion after emotion. He was completely unable to settle on one.

Katsuki was happier than he could express to know the Izuku was still the same old Izuku, at least in the emotions department. "Deku," he said when Izuku remained still.

Izuku jumped to his feet like there was a fire under his ass. Prostheses in one arm -they looked so tiny when he held them- and hand on a handle of the wheelchair, he followed after them.

"Can I call you Daddy, Mr. Deku? I know you don't know me, but..." Katsumi trailed off timidly as Izuku watched Katsuki lay her down and tuck her in.

Her bed was one of the few things besides her prostheses that Katsuki hadn't worried about the cost of. Soft enough to engulf her with all the bells and whistles needed to make life easier for a little girl when she didn't have her legs on. There was a bookcase attached to the bed frame, filled with books, notebooks, knickknacks, and hero merch. The mattress top was exactly the height of her wheelchair. No one would ever believe him about how long it took him to find a bed that exact height.

Katsuki closed his eyes against the warmth that built in them at her words.

Behind him, Izuku fought off his own tears. He sniffled and grinned as he said, "You're my daughter. You can call me anything you want. I'm... sorry I haven't been here."

Her smile was blinding, a carbon copy of Izuku's. "It's okay. You're here now."

Katsuki pressed a kiss to her forehead before sliding her chair next to her bed and standing her legs in their stands. "Love you, little monster. Sleep tight."

"I love you too. Sweet dreams, Papa. Goodnight, Daddy."

"Goodnight," Izuku said, his voice just a chocked whisper as Katsuki guided him back into the living room.

.....

They sat in silence for hours. Katsuki unpacked box after box, fighting sleep with an ironclad fist. Izuku flipped through photo albums of Katsumi that Katsuki had unearthed. Newborn pictures. The quintessential month by month progress pictures Negative had insisted he take. Her at daycare and in pre-school. When she was four and meeting her favorite Disney characters; Peter Pan, Tinkerbell, Merida, Winnie the Pooh. One of her kicking the costumed Gaston in the shin, and Katsuki cracking up as he pulled her away. Another of her holding a baby alligator when she was three, the animal nearly as big as she was. Birthdays and friends and everything Izuku had missed.

He cried all the while, smiling through the tears like a love-struck fool. When he reached the section of pictures of Katsumi trying out her prostheses for the first time, he sobbed and dropped his head into his hands. "How did it happen?" he choked out.

Katsuki stepped up behind him, staring down at the stretch of pictures. Katsumi in a hospital bed, grinning despite the bandages while Katsuki was knocked out in his hero uniform at her side. Katsumi frowning determinedly as she pushed herself around in a wheel chair. Katsumi with a smile wider than the horizon as she hung from Katsuki's arms with her new prostheses.

Katsuki's throat tightened, and he swallowed thickly. "Her pre-school was attacked. Her legs were completely destroyed, crushed beneath part of the ceiling. They couldn't save her legs, but they saved her." He fought to keep his voice steady, but no matter what he did, it wavered. "That was the day her quirk manifested. Her teacher told me that if it hadn't and if she hadn't used it, more of the kids would have gotten hurt. Might have died. She blasted away the ceiling when it started to fall."

He watched Izuku's shoulders shake. He wanted to reach out, comfort him, but even all these years later, he didn't really know how to do that. So, instead, he continued talking. "She's a lot like you. She's so fucking strong, Deku. She's been through more in five years than most people go through in their entire lives, but she still keeps smiling. I was really relieved the first time I realized she was like you. If she were more like me-" He couldn't say it, wouldn't. There was a universe out there somewhere where she didn't survive, and he hoped someone had taken pity and put him out of his misery.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you come back? Why did you leave before I woke up?" Izuku sobbed, curled in on himself, voice muffled against his hands and legs. "No one has heard from you in over five years! What happened, Kacchan?"

Rounding the couch, Katsuki sat on the coffee table close enough that their knees were just a hair's breadth from touching. He hated admitting weakness. In all their years apart, that hadn't changed. But Izuku was the exception to that rule, wasn't he? Always had been. And he felt that familiar prying feeling in his chest, every emotion he'd bottled up and stored away to ignore clawing out. Out of everyone he trusted, he trusted Izuku the most even when he'd hated him. "I was scared," he whispered, staring down at his palms, at the slightly different colors of them.

Izuku's shoulders slowed, and after a breath, he lifted his head.

Katsuki couldn't look at him, even though he could feel Izuku's eyes boring into him. "I was scared about being pregnant. I was scared I wouldn't be able to be a hero anymore. I was scared you wouldn't want me anymore with only one arm and one leg and most of my hearing lost and my career in shambles. I was scared you wouldn't want to have a baby with me, especially since I was too far along if you wanted me to terminate. I was scared I wouldn't be a good dad. I was scared I wouldn't be able to provide for her." He swallowed thickly, drying his palms obsessively against his pants. "I was scared. I am scared. Every day. I'm not who I used to be, and I am scared you won't want me because I'm not the same person."

A quiet laugh. "You're still the same old you." Katsuki jerked his head up, and Izuku was smiling now. "You're still the most emotionally stupid person I know." He slid to the edge of the couch, pressing a knee between Katsuki's. "It's you, Kacchan, it's always been you and no one else. Ever since we were kids. Only you. Nothing can change that. I thought you would have known that when I asked for your mating bite."

"That was before everything happened. How was I supposed to know that? You're the one who just said I'm emotionally inept."

"Because I love you, and I told you I did every day after we started dating."

Katsuki pointed to himself. "Emotionally inept."

Laughing, Izuku leaned forward. His eyes flicked to Katsuki's mouth. "Can I..." He trailed off, looking into Katsuki's eyes and finding hunger there.

Katsuki nodded, and they fell back into each other as if they hadn't been apart for five years.

.....

"The pre-school was attacked! Who attacks a pre-school?" Negative shouted into her phone, rage billowing from her in sepia toned clouds.

"Pre-school?" Cold fear dumped into Katsuki's veins. "What pre-school? Which one!" Not Katsumi's pre-school. Any other, but his daughter's. There were ten just in the city limits. The odds were in his favor here. Right? Yes. Definitely. It wouldn't be-

"Sunrise. Corner of Sunrise and Palm," Negative said quickly, eyes darting to him, "Where did you say your daughter goes?"

He took off, blasting away from the ground like a rocket. Negative raced after him, propelling herself into the air to catch up. As in all of his dreams, it was as though he was moving through molasses, every movement agonizingly slow. No matter how badly he wanted to go faster, he never could.

As they landed on the street just a block away, a giant explosion blew the roof off the pre-school. Flames billowed into the sky. Windows shattered all along the street. Debris and ash rained. The screams and cries of trapped children pierced through the explosion deafened air.

.....

"Katsumi!" Katsuki croaked breathlessly, clawing at the fabric beneath his fingers. Or trying to. Whenever he woke from a nightmare so suddenly, he could never move, incapacitated by a crushing force on his back that left his lungs empty. Just like he'd been in that moment. Breathless, silent, terrified, motionless. In the time right after waking, he was subject to his own memories. They flashed through his mind, a disturbing reel of destruction. The collapsed in ceiling. Blood and dusk covered children. Katsumi's small, unconscious face. Bloody palms and bloodier skirt.

"Katsumi!" he croaked out again, louder than before, but still nearly silent. Finally -finally- he could curl his fingers into fists. Spell broke, he shoved himself to his feet, frantic. Katsumi. He had to get to Katsumi. She was-

Strong fingers wrapped around his wrists, pulling him to a stop as his palms popped violently. "Kacchan? Are you okay? What's going on?"

"K-Katsumi! I need to- I- Katsumi-" His breath came in quick, staccato pants. Dizziness settled over him, and distantly, he knew he was hyperventilating. "Katsumi! I need to go to her!"

Izuku hushed him quietly, green eyes luminous in the moonlight peeking through parted curtains. "Katsumi's fine, Kacchan, she's sleeping in her room. It's okay. She's okay. She's safe. Kacchan, breath, you're panicking."

He was panicking. He knew that, but he couldn't calm down until until he saw her safe and whole. Free from blood on her skin. "I need to see her!" he gasped. On nights like this, when nightmares chased him out of sleep, he slept in her bed. He cradled her against his chest, heart racing until her soft all-spice and mint scent lulled him back to sleep. It was desperately embarrassing. What kind of father needed his daughter to help him get back to sleep instead of the other way around?

Under Izuku's scrutiny, he felt the ugly, disgusting truth on his skin. The shame of how weak he'd gotten. He was supposed to be her protector and rock, not the body that needed her as a crutch. He couldn't put his truth into words, he could only whisper, "I need to see her."

Without another question, Izuku silently stood and led Katsuki to their daughter's room. They silently slipped into her room, and Katsuki immediately went to her bedside, pushing her chair out of the way to kneel close to her head. He stroked her hair, already feeling himself calm.

Izuku watched, scent held close and in-check against his body.

Katsuki wished he would let go of his control. Let his scent mingle. All of their scents belonged together. They should permeate the entire apartment, drive out the weird smell all apartments that had sat empty for any amount of time possessed.

"Papa?" Katsumi whispered sleepily, eyes remaining closed, "Did you have a bad dream again?"

Katsuki hummed, heat pressing in at his eyes as he held her tiny hand between his.

"It's okay. I'm safe. Go back to sleep." She reached out her other hand, stroking his hair in return and quietly hummed a familiar tune. "Daddy's here now. Nothing can go wrong anymore."

Tears trickled down his face, and he pressed it into her blanket until her hand stilled and fell away. With a sniffle, he stood, laid her hands across her stomach, and left.

Izuku was slow to follow, but eventually, his weight sunk down onto the edge of the mattress in Katsuki's empty bedroom. The room was darker than the living room, but he felt every single aspect of Izuku there at his side like a fire on a cloudy night.

"Are you okay?" Izuku's whisper sounded like a shout in the silence. Somewhere beyond the room, wood sighed and settled.

"Yes. We're used to it. Happens all the time." He didn't turn to look at Izuku, simply staring into the dark.

Izuku paused meaningfully. "That doesn't mean you're alright."

He was right, Katsuki knew he was. He was always right. So, Katsuki couldn't stop himself as he spilled all of his secrets. Eviscerated himself for Izuku's inspection. He told him everything. From the time he was a teenager to now. Every nightmare where he woke terrified Izuku had actually heeded his words and thrown himself from the school roof. Every sleepless night, gasping into the darkness when the weight pressed down just as soon as he started to fall asleep. Every worry, every shame, every regret he'd ever harbored. All those bottle feelings in his chest tipping forward to spread like an oil spill. He cried like he hadn't allowed himself to since the fight they'd had right after the Provisional Licensing exam all the way back in their first year at UA. Nearly nine years of tears burst passed carefully maintained dams in hot, fat droplets.

Izuku was a silent strength beside him, a hand on his knee.

When he was done, he was rung dry and exhausted.

Izuku drew him into his chest, lips pressed to his temple and then into the crown of his head. Instead of saying anything about what Katsuki had spilled -a blessing if there were any- he asked, "Do you need to take off your prostheses too?" Katsuki nodded tiredly and started to pull away, but Izuku stopped him. "Can I do it?"

Katsuki hadn't let anyone intimately touch him or his prostheses since he'd recovered enough to do it himself. And the removal of his prostheses felt like a very intimate situation. Only Katsumi had been allowed to help him, and only with oiling and cleaning, but never to remove or install them. Sheer need at the mere suggestion of familiar hands on him punched him right in the chest. Right in the gaping wound where his secrets used to be held. "Yes," he whispered, voice desperate with longing.

He stretched out his left leg and right arm, staring at Izuku as he moved to crouch between his thighs. Such easy intimacy. Intimacy he could never bring himself to find with anyone else because he didn't want anyone else. If it wasn't Izuku, he didn't want nor need it. He didn't realize how much he'd really missed his best friend.

Izuku slid his hands up his arm, and Katsuki imagined he could feel the sensation again. Skin against skin. Warmth against warmth. But it was just that, his imagination. Only driven home when Izuku found the edge of the synthetic skin sleeve and peeled it back to reveal the titanium beneath.

"This is amazing. It's beautiful." He ran his fingers over the arm, studying every screw, every joint, every fiber. "Where do I-" But he found the switch without Katsuki's instructions, a slender flush piece that had to be pulled up with the edge of a fingernail. Meant to prevent accidental or purposeful disengaging during battle. He flipped it without warning.

Katsuki grit his teeth against the cry of pain as the nerves disengaged, digging his heel into the hardwood beneath him. Panting, it took him several breaths to realize Izuku was peppering kisses across his shoulder and the crook of his neck. When his breath finally slowed again, jaw unclenching, Izuku moved down to his leg.

He lifted the leg over his shoulder, pressing kiss after kiss in the wake of his hands until he met Katsuki's skin close to the crease of his hip beneath his shorts. A shorter expanse of skin than Izuku had been expecting that he worshiped almost reverentially before finally moving to the leg sleeve. He repeated the same process as the arm; sleeve, inspect, memorize, switch.

Pain. Katsuki would never get used to the pain. Everyday, it was like he was experiencing the pain of connecting and disconnecting nerve endings for the first time. It was necessary though. He could sleep with the prostheses installed, but eventually without proper disconnection once a day, the artificial nerves would burn out. Prostheses were expensive, more expensive than even a hero's salary could cover if he didn't take care of them. Engineers could fix metal, add plates for strength, replace screws, but artificial nerves required a whole new unit. They were cultivated from samples of already existing nerves from the patient to promote optimum assimilation and mobility. They were infused and grown into the metal and wiring. That took time, money, and massive amounts of quirk energy. All of which were scarce for Katsuki, especially with two other prostheses to add to the bill that had to be modified every couple of months to keep up with Katsumi's growth. Not to mention upkeep, oil, and the cleaning solutions to keep them operating properly. At least they never had to worry about corrosion.

Izuku stayed between Katsuki's thighs, laying the prosthesis carefully to the side. He rested his head against Katsuki's leg, eyes closed. "I missed you, Kacchan. I don't want you to leave again."

"'s not part of my plans."

"Good." Izuku smiled then, opening his eyes. "Let's go to bed. You've got a long day, and I've got a shift with Todoroki to take for Burnin."

Katsuki groaned. "Fuck, that hag is still around?" He allowed himself to be pushed back into the bed, Izuku blanketing him with his body. They were both bigger now, bodies more filled out and different from before, but they still fit together perfectly. Just like they always had. Like they were two halves of a single whole.

"She's going to live longer than any of us."

Another groan. "God, you're right. Can't believe I'd ever say I'm thankful for working for Best Jeanist. I'd take that Levi's wearing motherfucker any day over her."

"You're only saying that because it's been so long since you've directly worked under him. Who was your boss in America?" Their conversation petered off quickly, and they fell into sleep easier than they had in five long years.

#my hero academia #mha #bakudeku #dekubaku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #omegaverse #omega!katsuki #alpha!izuku #disabled!katsuki #deaf!katsuki #they have a kid together #she's adorable #bakugou-midoriya katsumi #here have yet another thing that I love dearly #my writing #coming home #two shot #christmas preemie

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pinktintedmonocle · 4 years ago

Text

How Not To Kiss Your Lister In A Crisis - A Red Dwarf Fic

When Lister and Rimmer find themselves locked in a cell on-board a simulant death ship, Lister’s claustrophobia kicks in. Rimmer attempts to distract him with a kiss. Lister has some notes.

“I demand you unhand us right now, miladdo!” Rimmer screeched as the simulant dragged him and Lister down the corridor. Their captor simply leered evilly at the hologram and continued to pull at the chains attached to the painfully tight handcuffs clamped around Rimmer and Lister’s wrists.

“We are employees of the Jupiter Mining Corporation, you can’t treat us like this! If you don’t let us go I’ll send a strongly worded letter to your superior officer reporting you for gross misconduct!”

Lister rolled his eyes and then winced as the simulant gave another tug on the chain, causing him to stumble forward. “Give it a rest, Rimmer, there’s no reasoning with it. I doubt it even speaks English.”

“Perhaps it speaks Esperanto”, said Rimmer. The hologram cleared his throat and spoke loudly and slowly. “Vi odoras kiel krokodilo.” He turned his head to address Lister. “There. I’ve just politely asked him to release us from these shackles.”

Lister groaned. “No, Rimmer. You just told him he smells like a crocodile. Anyway, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t speak English or Esperanto or any other language known to man. Look, just be quiet for a minute will you? I’m trying to think of a plan to get us out of here.”

Before Rimmer could reply the simulant came to an abrupt stop. It spun a wheel handle on a heavy looking door and shoved Lister and Rimmer inside, chucking the chains in after them. It then sealed the door behind them and thudded off back down the corridor.

Rimmer glared at Lister. “How’s that escape plan coming along, Listy?”

Lister pulled a face. “I’m working on it, man. I’m working on it!”

Rimmer’s eyes flicked upwards. “Any chance you could hurry up a bit? I believe we got a deadline.”

It was then that Lister noticed the countdown clocks mounted near the ceiling on all four walls of the cell. A large red digital display had already started counting backwards from 05.00. As Lister watched, the display flashed 04.56. Then 04.55. Then 04.54.

Lister gulped. “What’s it counting down to, do you reckon?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s something just lovely!” Rimmer replied, his voice strained. “Maybe they’re going to treat us to a full roast dinner with all the trimmings and crumble for desert. Or perhaps this room is a sauna and soon it’ll be filled with steam and afterwards we’ll have a Swedish massage. Or possibly we’ll be blasted with some kind of radiation that’ll give us superpowers and bigger penises! Or maybe, just maybe, and bear with me on this one as I know it’s a bit of a stretch, just maybe they are going to SMEGGING KILL US!”. Rimmer screamed the last three words before throwing himself against the door. “Let us out! I’m sorry I said you smell like a crocodile! I didn’t mean it, you smell lovely! Like freshly starched boxer shorts and camphor wood and well-worn leather! All of the best smells!”

“It’s not there, Rimmer!” said Lister, exasperated. He tried to place a reassuring hand on Rimmer’s shoulder but both his hands were bound in front of him in the heavy chains and he could barely raise them. “Look, just try and calm down OK? We’ll figure something out, just like we always do.”

“But what if we don’t?” wailed Rimmer. “What if there’s no way out?”

“There has to be” Lister reassured him. “There always is.”

But as Lister tried to assess their surroundings and come up with an escape plan, the words ‘no way out’ echoed in his mind and he felt his chest start to tighten. Around him in the small cell the walls seemed to constrict and Lister’s breath started to quicken.

“What is it?” Rimmer barked. “What’s the matter with you?”

Lister closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing. “The walls – the walls are closing in…”

“Are they?” yelled Rimmer.

Lister heard him shuffling rapidly around as if he was trying to see all four walls at once.

“Not literally, you goit!” Lister managed to say between breaths. “It’s my claustrophobia!”

“Oh!” said Rimmer, sounding somewhat relived.

Lister opened his eyes and scowled at Rimmer. “It’s alright for you, you’re not the one in the middle of a full blown panic attack!” he puffed.

Rimmer looked slightly guilty. “Well, is there anything I can do?”

“Distract me”, Lister panted.

“How?”

“I don’t know, just do the first thing that comes to mind!”

Rimmer tried to wring his hands, although it was made somewhat difficult by the cuffs. “Nothing’s coming to mind!”

“Just do anything!” Lister heaved, feeling as if he was about to pass out. “Anything at all!”

Lister didn’t know what he had been expecting. Maybe he had expected Rimmer to slap him, or start recalling a particularly exciting game of Risk he had played or to whip out a portable slide projector and start showing Lister several hundred photographs from his latest holiday in the diesel decks. But the one thing Lister did not think would happen is that Rimmer would kiss him, which is why it came as such a surprise when Rimmer did exactly that.

**********************************************************************************

It had been a strange day, even by Lister’s standards. The crew of Red Dwarf had thought their luck was in when they’d detected the derelict luxury cruise ship, and as they had got into Starbug and made their way over Lister had imagined all of the treasures they might find. Perhaps they would have Michelin star worthy vindaloo’s, perfectly preserved for millions of years, or new games for the AR suite or even a guitar with more than five strings.

The others were equally excited to find out what goodies awaited so all four of them had boarded the ship. They’d taken the usual precautions, with Lister, Cat and Rimmer all armed with bazookoids while Kryten scanned for life forms. The ship was huge, but thankfully someone had drawn helpful red arrows on the floor which the boys from the Dwarf followed without question. It wasn’t until Kryten had casually mentioned that a mechanoid who had been programmed to be a little more suspicious might think that the arrows were leading them into a trap that Lister had realised they were in deep smeg. But before they could turn back something had bonked Lister on the head and he’d blacked out. He had come to sometime later to find the burly simulant guard handcuffing him and Rimmer before dragging them down a corridor.

And then had come the room with the countdown clocks and the claustrophobia and then, then, Rimmer had kissed him. Or at least tried to kiss him. The hologram’s lips were pursed and glued painfully tightly to Lister’s mouth without moving, so in fact it felt less like a kiss and more like an octopus had wrapped a tentacle around Lister’s head and was attempting to suffocate him with its suckers.

After several seconds Rimmer pulled back. He cleared his throat loudly and then fixed his gaze upwards as if fascinated by a particular spot on the ceiling.

“There”, Rimmer said brusquely. “Are you sufficiently distracted?”

Lister just gaped at Rimmer, his jaw open so wide that Lister half expected his chin to hit the floor like in the old cartoons he and the Cat liked to watch. After a few moments he regained the power of speech.

“That”, said Lister, “Was the worse smegging kiss I have ever had.”

Rimmer ceased his inspection of the ceiling and looked down at Lister in alarm. “Excuse me?”

“It was smegging awful, Rimmer!” Lister exclaimed. “It felt as if you were trying to render me unconscious using only your lips.”

“I was just trying to distract you!” Rimmer snapped back. “I just did the first thing that came to mind, which is what you asked me to do!”

Lister cocked his head to one side. “And the first thing that came into your mind was to kiss me, was it?”

“Well, I-I had – I mean – look, my options are somewhat limited in this small space, okay?” Rimmer stuttered. “I could hardly have performed a Morris dance in here. There isn’t enough room to get my knees up properly and I don’t have any bells or ribbons on me.”

Lister shrugged. “Yeah, but you could have at least tried to make it a good snog, man.”

Rimmer looked perplexed. “Why?”

“Why not?” asked Lister. “I mean, why kiss someone badly when you could do it well? Unless, of course, you don’t know how to kiss properly…”

“I know how to kiss, Listy!” Rimmer protested indignantly. “I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent kisser when I want to be!”

“Oh yeah?” taunted Lister.

“Yes!” Rimmer shouted back.

“Prove it then!” Lister yelled.

“I will!” Rimmer screamed, before lunging forwards and once more covering Lister’s lips with his own.

This time it was different. Rimmer’s lips moved against Lister’s, softly at first before becoming more insistent. Lister opened his mouth to deepen the kiss and his tongue met Rimmer’s, sending a shiver of excitement down Lister’s spine. It was a little strange, kissing a hologram, but not unpleasant. Lister’s tongue tingled pleasingly from the low level hum of electricity that ran through Rimmer’s body. He was just thinking how he would like to tangle his fingers in Rimmer’s hair had his hands not been in chains when Rimmer used his body to push Lister back against the wall. Rimmer’s bound hands found Lister’s and they stayed like that for a few moments, pressed up against each other while kissing and holding hands.

Eventually, Rimmer pulled back. “Well?” he asked expectantly. “Was that good enough for you?”

“I mean, it was better than before”, said Lister. “But there is still some room for improvement.”

“Room for improvement?” Rimmer repeated, mimicking Lister’s accent. “That was a damn good kiss and you know it!”

“It was alright”, said Lister. “But you could definitely work on making the experience a bit more pleasurable.”

“How?” Rimmer demanded. “How would I improve my kissing, in your opinion?”

Lister opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say a word a loud beeping noise filled the room.

“What’s that?!” Rimmer shouted, his hands clasping Lister’s again although this time in panic rather than passion.

Lister looked up at the countdown clocks and swallowed nervously. “I think we’ve reached our last minute.”

“Marvellous!” replied Rimmer sarcastically. “And do you have a plan for how we’re going to get out of here yet?”

“Er, no”, Lister admitted. “To be honest, I was a bit distracted by your decision to shove your tongue down my throat.”

“You asked me to distract you!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t realise you were going to do it with your lips!”

They glowered at each other for a second before Rimmer’s shoulders slumped and his face crumpled. “So that’s it then. We’re destined to meet our maker in some particularly nasty manner on a simulant death ship where the crew don’t even speak Esperanto.”

“Not necessarily!” protested Lister. “Kryten and Cat might have escaped and be on their way to break us out of here!”

Rimmer laughed humourlessly. “What, a last minute rescue from crash test dummy head and that feline imbecile? We’ve got more chance of spontaneously turning into a sperm whale and a bowl of petunias.”

Lister shook his head in frustration. “Hey, don’t be so negative man, you never know!”

There was another loud beep.

“Last twenty seconds”, Lister said quietly. He looked at Rimmer. “You know, if you wanted to practice kissing again I would be, like, willing to help.”

Rimmer stared at Lister in disbelief. “What, now?”

Lister arched an eyebrow. “Do you have anything better to do? I mean, do you really want to die for the second time knowing that you still weren’t a very good kisser?”

Rimmer scowled, and Lister was just thinking that he’d misjudged the situation and Rimmer was actually going to hit him when the hologram’s lips met his for the third time.

It was Lister who pushed Rimmer against the wall this time, trying to cram as much sensation as possible into what would more than likely be his final few moments of life. As the countdown clocks hit the last five seconds the kiss intensified, becoming wilder and more desperate.

Oh well, thought Lister as the timer hit zero and Rimmer did something with his tongue that made Lister feel weak at the knees. I suppose there are worse ways to go.

#red dwarf fanfic #reddwarffanfic #red dwarf fan fiction #Red Dwarf #dave lister #arnold j rimmer #arnold rimmer #david lister

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aliennooboo-old · 5 years ago

Photo

Today it’s been 3 years since my dog Hibi passed away and I think for the first time it doesn’t feel so bad. I still think about her every day, and sometimes I cry uncontrollably because I miss her so much, but the grief is not so strong anymore.

Mom and I often talk about her, either reminiscing about her or remarking on how she’d react to certain things that we are witnessing at the moment, in a way continuing her life beyond death. I think for both of us Hibi was that once in a lifetime dog who leaves such an impact on your life that it’s forever divided into before and after owning the dog. It’s strange to think that an animal can do that to you, because even though she was on this planet for only 15 years, she’ll be remembered until we who love her pass away too. I feel like she’s the one thing that will stay in my mind even if all else fades with time and age.

I often dream about Hibi. In some of those dreams she didn’t die of the euthanasia but lived on, strong and healthy and young. And in some dreams, I know she’s old and she won’t have long, so I treasure the moments we still have left. In all of those dreams, nothing special happens: I just hold her, or stroke her fur (every detail of which I still remember), or go on a walk with her. That’s what I’d do if I had one more day with her.

It’s impossible to put into words how much she meant to me, or all the ways her presence affected my life. I have never loved anyone as much as I love her. I was 12 when we got her, and by the time she passed away, she’d been my dog for over half my life. She was there when I grew up into the person I am today. We grew up together.

Hibi loved going on our daily walks in the forest, and if I took too long to get ready in the morning, she'd whine and sit on my foot until I got off my ass. She loved to swim so much, she'd want to jump in the river as soon as the ice melted in the spring. She came with us to sauna every time, climbed onto the highest bench to enjoy the warmth.

She found scents extremely interesting, I've never known another dog spend so much time just sniffing everything... it was a whole process when you got home and she'd spend 15 minutes just sniffing all your clothes and every item in your bag. One of my favourite things was to show her something new she might find fascinating scents on and then watch her press her snout into it in concentration.

Hibi was a gentle dog whose first instinct was to be friendly to anyone she met – but of course she was also an animal and would often chase after rabbits... She was fond of cheese, and she'd always come running at the exact moment when you took it out of the fridge. She was silly, sometimes annoying, wonderful and stubborn and curious, and I loved her in all her moods and all the stages of her life.

Sometimes I see someone walking a dog that looks so much like Hibi, and I want to tell the owner: Live in the moment with your dog, cherish the time you have with them. Put your phone away when you’re walking with them. When you come home to find your shoes or sofa destroyed, see the bigger picture which is that you love them even if you’re angry, and they didn’t do it out of malice but out of distress. When they come to you for attention, don’t push them away. You can never know whether your dog will live to be 5 years old or 17 years old. Either way, time passes so quickly. I’m so grateful that I was aware of this while Hibi was still with us. I have no regrets, because I lived my time with her so fully.

Below is a quote from a book that I read a year after she passed away. Reading this book was the beginning of my healing process, because I think finally I understood that I wasn’t alone in loving a dog more than ever loving another human being.

“We regarded each other for a moment, me standing above her, the dog peering up at me from this ludicrous position, and then I crouched down by the sofa and started to rub her belly. And then I just melted, some piece of me inside just melted at the sight of her, and I heard myself say aloud, ‘I love you every single day. Every single day.’ This sounds so corny, cooing words of love to a dog like that, but even as I heard myself speak, I was aware that there was something miraculous about it, something miraculous and profoundly healing about the fact that I love this animal 365 days a year, without exception. I have never felt that unwavering in my affection, never felt safe enough to allow it. My human relationships have characteristically been about withholding – keeping parts of me shut down, or held back, or under wraps, protected against disappointment or vulnerability. My relationship with Lucille is about giving, an unrestrained, fearless, expressive kind of giving that’s brand new to me, and it makes me feel human, it makes me feel whole.” – Caroline Knapp, A Pack of Two: The Intricate Bond Between People and Dogs

#non sims #pet death tw #dog death tw #nuka things #yes this is a shameless love letter to a dog #if you have similar experiences or just want to share something about your pet feel free to reply 💛

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i-ndil-cuimhne-ar-daniel · 5 years ago

Photo

(drawing by @mahanaimacallaris)

@mahanaimacallaris I hope you don’t mind me putting this in a new post, but I figured people would appreciate not seeing that long-ass post on their dash over and over again 😂 But I’ll put a link here to the first post with the other drawings/story: link

Well, this is my two-cents, including a couple of *cough* hints.

Whatever happens in Munich, stays in Munich

The early morning light fell into the room through the half-open curtains, seducing the lingering darkness into a flirtatious shawdowplay, and Till watched as silhouettes danced across the wall in various shades of darkness – in the shadowplay, acting out your own death, knowing no more, and Ian Curtis offered him the words in that soothingly melodramatic voice, but,

no, not now, go away. The dark was as enticing as ever, but Till was ready to fight tooth and nail to keep himself out of the shadows. It was one of the few times they didn’t have any obligations and they got to spent a quiet morning sleeping-in, and, well, he wanted to be able to experience every moment in the light, not the dark.

Till carefully wiggled his shoulders to find a more comfortable position, holding Flake tight as the slender man lay sprawled on top of him. His breathing warm against the skin of Till’s shoulder, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against his chest, and, Gott, I love you. Ja,

it was officially a thing, our thing, although Olli never missed a chance to remind them that,

without me your thing wouldn’t even be a thing, so theoretically speaking this is our thing,

and Till had no complaints about that. The more the merrier, right?

Though perhaps Flake would be a tad more difficult to persuade, especially after what I did… Because, ja, there was indeed the tiny thing Till had done. Nothing too serious, I hope, but he expected some trouble out of the keyboard player nonetheless.

Still, I can’t wait…. It wasn’t like it had been formally confirmed, but, they’re going to come through. Not just Olli, but, ja, them too, the mysterious person who had made the drawings of Till in the pink fluffy coat.

I’m not going to tell you, stop with the bribes, Till.

But they’re your favorite cookies. Look. I made them myself,

and Olli had shot him a look.

Fine. I bought them myself. But it was done with love – so much love!

I’m sure it was, and I appreciate it. I really do. But a secret is a secret. I crossed my heart and hoped to die.

You’re not going to die, Olli!

I’m not going to risk it either, Till!

Fine, but can you at least ask them to do another drawing? Please, for me, and Till had tried for the cutest puppy-eyes, and,

stop-would you just…fine, you got me. I’ll ask. Oh Gott, let me guess. This is about Munich, isn’t it?

apparently, it had worked. Olli had promised to ask for the drawing.

Flake is going to make a bit of a fuss, Till was absolutely certain. But most of it is in jest anyway. Spending years with the band, and specifically Paul, had left him more desensitized to outrageous jokes, nudeness, and things that should not be named, than he’d like to let on. He just likes the drama, that extra shiver of attention he got whenever he let out some screams and made a scene.

And he knows Munich was….epic, even for their standards.

It had been a quiet May evening. Tired from the concert and a meet-and-greet with fans, they had all retreated back to their own rooms, Flake following Till to his.

He’d just gotten out of the shower, and they were sitting on the bed with a glass of wine, chatting about things Till had by now forgotten about, when they’d heard a ruckus outside. Curious,

that sounds a bit like Paul,

Flake had gone to the window to have a look, and,

mein Gott, that is Paul! And Richard! And they’re….oh Gott…no!

What is it? And Till had gotten of the bed. Tell me.

No-no! We’re not doing this again, I refuse,

and Till had looked out the window, only to find Richard and Paul chasing Christoph through the hotel garden. The latter neatly in his shirt and sweatpants, but the other two, stark naked.

Oh, scheiße, look at them go, and Till had opened up the glass doors, walking onto the balcony. And of course, Flake had been right behind him.

Together they had stood at the banister watching as Richard and Paul were trying to corner Christoph, he’s actually pretty fast and agile for such a large man, and, thankfully, their efforts so far had been unfruitful.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying though. Throwing all regards for modesty out the window, Paul and Richard had run over the grass, sliding left and right as they tried to make quick turns. Hands waving, fingers grabbing, but Christoph had managed to outrun them every single time.

That’s quite a sight, isn’t it?

and Till had looked up to find Olli standing on the balcony next to his. It sure is. Mein Gott. Any idea what’s going on?

Shrugging his shoulders, Olli had chucked his fag over the railing, eyes still fixed on the spectacle unfolding in the garden below. You remember when they rebuild his drums at the bottom of the pool and left him to retrieve them by himself? Well, you’re looking at the payback. The start of a budding grin had carefully presented itself at the corners of Olli’s mouth. He took all their stuff while they were in the sauna.

The thunder of a hearty laugh had vibrated through Till’s chest. But, come on! Schneider isn’t stupid, he wouldn’t wait for them to get out.

Fully blossoming, the grin had spread itself across Olli’s entire face. Nope. But let’s just say someone still had a little bone to pick with our drummer about a missing container of cookies – and took his room key.

Till had laughed so loud he could have sworn he’d heard the sound echo, but,

Olli had simply smiled dryly. There are things I myself don’t need to see, but, uhm, you enjoy the show. Gentlemen, and on the beats of his farewell, he had disappeared back into his room, closing the doors behind him.

Meanwhile, the manhunt downstairs had still been in full swing. But as the two firecrackers had decided to, finally, team up, Christoph had quickly found himself in a little trouble somewhere near the edge of the swimming pool. Caught between the covered obstacle and the two approaching fire breathing dragons, Christoph had yelled out at Till and Flake,

a little help here would be nice,

but Till had simply shrugged his shoulders, shouting back, you want to play with fire, you might get burned, while Flake had just stood there and waved.

I’M GOING TO REMEMBE–AHHH,

and both Paul and Richard had jumped him at the same time, cutting the sentence short as Christoph had let out a high-pitched scream.

With Richard’s arm around his neck and Paul’s full weight against his chest, it had only taken a few seconds to get him down to the ground. But Christoph was strong and lifting Paul up with one arm, he had easily plopped him onto the ground next to him.

Getting to Richard had been more difficult, as he was lying underneath Christoph, holding him in a firm choke hold. So, by the time he had finally managed to get a hand between his throat and Richards arm, Paul had climbed back on top of him, using his knees to try and help keep Christoph down.

Now, where up until that point it had only been a matter of some, things, dingling and dangling, now everyone was offered a full view of, everything, really, and,

MEIN GOTT, PAUL LANDERS, I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR NONSENSE!

Hands still firmly on Christoph’s chest, Paul had looked over his shoulder. THAT’S NOT FAIR, YOU NEVER YELL AT RICHARD.

THAT’S BECAUSE I’M NOT FORCED TO LOOK AT HIS, OH MEIN GOTT, ALJOSCHA WAS RIGHT! YOU ARE IMPOSSIBLE,

and with a dramatically grand twirl Flake had turned on his heels, marching back inside, although Till was quite sure he must have still caught the,

YEAH, WELL, HE ALSO SAID I HAD A CUTE BUM. SO, TAKE THAT!

It had sent Till straight into another laughing fit, slapping his hand on the balcony railing as he had looked on as with joint effort and a whole lot of gymnastics, Paul and Richard had managed to get Christoph out of his pants as well,

which had been about the time the hotel manager had come running into the garden, another employee with a stack of bathrobes in tow.

And maybe it had been the whole incident happening at all, or maybe it had been just the simple fact they weren’t even drunk when it did. And maybe, well, most likely, it had something to do with their stubborn refusal to cover up in the offered robes, making their way through the hotel buck naked….but regardless of which one it was, verdammt, that guy had been pissed, raving and ranting as he had scolded them like they were a bunch of naughty children.

Luckily some sweet talking from Christoph and a very sad looking Flake letting out a little snicker, it’s a good thing he can cry on command, had convinced the manager to let them stay. For one night. Thus, the next morning they had gotten another telling off from Tom from management, who had to find them another hotel.

It was worth it though, that evening was….epic, Till had no other way to describe it. And now he would have a memento to hang on his living room wall. Flake is going to kill me, having to look at Paul’s naked ass every ti

a quick knock on the door roughly yanked Till out of his thoughts. Who can that be? “Yes?” But there was no answer. That’s weird.

“Wazz tha?” Lazily Flake lifted his head, his chin scraping along Till’s chest as he turned his head to face him.

“I don’t know. There’s no response.” His fingers tenderly caressing the soft skin of Flake’s back, Till leaned up for a kiss. “If you let me go, I can go and check.”

“Nah,” Flake stole another kiss, “I’ll go,” and rolled himself off Till, and off the bed. He stood swaying on his feet for a second, “woo-right, okay,” smiling at Till as he exorbitantly blinked his eyes. “Yep, I’m here,” and he turned to grab his bathrobe off the chair.

As long as you come back to bed after, Till watched as Flake swung the fabric around his shoulders like a cape, walking towards the door, I’ve got plans for you.

“I don’t think we were even supposed to answer,” Flake sunk to his knees, “there’s a paper stuck underneath the door,”

Really? Oh, wait-scheiße, “wait!” Till shot up, clutching a tangle of blanket in his hands.

but Flake had already picked the white sheet off the floor. “What could this-ahhhh, oh no!” In a flash he got up, “Till Lindemann, what have you done,” making his way to the bed. “Whatever happens in Munich, stays in Munich, remember?”

“Easy, calm down,” his hands held up in a half protective/half apologizing motion, Till smiled his dearest smile, “don’t be mad.”

“I just-I, mein Gott, will you look at it?” Flake held the paper out so Till could see. “They’re naked! Again!”

“Now, now, come on. It’s not like you haven’t seen that a couple of times before.” Till let go of the blanket and took the paper out of Flake’s hand. “Look, this is amazing. That’s us again. Remember, that moment we heard the noise outside?”

The corners of Flake’s mouth slightly trembled and,

oh, I’m on to you, Till knew all too well the other was attempting to hold back a smile. All I need to do, is draw it out. “Look, this is-come here,”

with his other hand, Till grabbed onto Flake and pulled him onto the bed, waiting for him to settle himself against his side before he continued.

“Look,” pointing at the paper, “how cute are those bums?”

A gentle nudge against his shoulder,

“and would you look at Olli! Mein Gott, he’s pleased with himself. As he should be! They would have never been outside if it hadn’t been for him,”

and on a sharp exhale of breath, Flake let out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right – you’re right. The drawings are amazing.”

“But?”

“They’re amazing!”

“And?”

Flake let out a soft sigh. “It’s always shenanigans, all the weird shit we got ourselves into. Why not something, you know, sweet?”

Dropping the paper on the nightstand, Till turned towards Flake and took him in his arms. “Because I’ve already got you.”

“Oh, you,” a quick kiss on the nose, “I mean something sweet to put on the wall, next to those other drawings.”

“Like what?”

“Well,” a tender smile, “what about that night at Olli’s house, when you asked me to be yours?”

Oh Flake, that is sweet, it had taken Till a good four glassed of whiskey to amass enough courage to do so, but, such a fantastic night, sitting by the fire pit, looking at the stars. The whole damn lot of them standing watching from inside the house, although Till wasn’t quite sure if Flake had that in mind as well. Then again, seeing them scatter around when we looked their way was kind of cute., so I guess it counts

“Or that time when all of us went for a walk and Richard fell of that rock, and we all took turns supporting him until we made it back.”

Right, ja, that had been the previous year, during one of their gigs in England. Off course, Richard and Paul had climbed some rocks, but Richard had fallen off, hurting his ankle. It had taken them a good five hours to tackle a path that would have normally taken not even three, but they had made it. Together.

“Though the sweetest part was you giving him a piggyback ride for the last two miles.”

“My back was less impressed.”

“I know,” another petit kiss, “but you did it.”

Yes, I did. We did,

“or it could be something happy, like that doughnut eating contest – you know, when Christoph got mad at Olli for making him laugh, and he tried to shove three doughnuts into his mouth at the same time,”

nearly choking Olli, but, well, it actually had been kind of funny. Once Olli had stopped coughing and spitting out chunks of half-chewed dough.

“Oh-oh, or when that lady wouldn’t stop badgering Schneider about the god-awful way he treated his perfectly behaved pups!”

Resting his head against Flake’s shoulder, Till let out a thundering laugh. “Now that would be priceless! He got so annoyed. ‘Let me be, you’ve got no idea what they’re like.’ And Paul just kept sniffing her leg!”

“I still refuse to believe she didn’t notice.”

Another round of laughter. “Perhaps she liked it!”

Flake snorted. “Who knows. He sure did.”

“Stop it,” words carried out on a wave of exuberant laughter, “I can’t.” There’s always something going on with Paul….funnyman.

“Although I think we’ve ventured right back into weird again.”

“Are we ever anything but weird?” Till leaned back, looking Flake in the eye. “Seriously?”

“Nah,” Flake shook his head, “it’s just, some types of weird are definitely more enjoyable than others.”

Ah, “jokes and pranks are the good type of weird, naked bums are the bad kind?”

“Mmm,” a hint of tension built up in Flake’s face, focusing around the ever so lightly narrowing eyes, “that depends on whose bum it is.”

Ohhh, “I see,” tugging Flake closer, Till nuzzled his face into his neck, gently sucking the skin between his lips as he showered it with kisses. “I,” kiss, “like,” kiss, “where,” kiss, “this,” kiss, “is,” kiss, “going.” Till had a whole bunch of ideas that he was sure Flake would classify as, the good type of weird, and, I-

Putting a hand against his chest, Flake pushed Till away. “Are you sure?”

-what? “What do you mean?”

“Because as Olli would say, I still have a bone to pick with you over that Munich-thing, and I’m not sure you’re going to like what I’ve got in mind.”

“I’ll ask for another drawing, I promise!” Reaching back to a sure-fire favorite, Till faintly titled his head downward, looking up at Flake with slightly widened eyes, even pouting his lips to exploit the full potential of the endearing look. “Please be nice.”

“I’ll think about it. In the meantime,” Flake leaned closer, gently tapping Till on the nose, “go fetch the present I brought you. It’s in my suitcase.”

What did you do? “What is it?”

“You’ll know when you see it.”

This should be good, it looked like the morning was going to turn out even better than Till had imagined. Cuddles with Flake, the amazing drawing, and now, what did you bring me? He pushed himself to the edge of the bed,

“And Till?”

turning to look over his shoulder.

“You better be good.”

Oh hell yes, it was going to be a very good morning.

#rammstein #fanfiction #fanart

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nakoujou · 5 years ago

Text

Detention: One-Shot

In which Class A gets detention, and the only priority is to find out who got caught making out in the boys’ locker room (Crackfic, slight Todomomo, warning for lots of cursing).

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They had only wanted to escape the gruesome, summer heat. An innocent group text inviting everybody to sneak into U.A.’s swimming pool. It was supposed to be a chill kickback, just to lounge in the cooling sensation of the waters.

But here they were on Sunday afternoon, stuck in their homeroom to write a 5 paragraph apology essay after Aizawa and Midnight caught them. Nobody wanted to be here, already struggling to deal with one of the hottest days of July. Midoriya wondered how many would actually complete the assignment. Half of them were already dozing off, defeated from the cruel heat waves seeping through the window.

Aizawa-sensei - already annoyed from the normal school week - entrusted supervision duties to the only other student worthy of disciplining his troublesome classmates and not ignoring curfew.

"This is an embarrassment to our class!” Iida yelled, unraveling the list of strikes. “Underage drinking, unsupervised Quirk battles, inappriopriate ki-”

And suddenly, everybody’s energy zapped right back at Iida’s loud gasp. It wasn’t like their Class President to halt in the middle of a lecture, clenching the paper.

Iida took a big gulp, lowering his head as his hands shivered. “’I-I-Inappropriate kissing in the boys’ locker room.”

Across all desks, Class A shared the same expression: wide eyes, jaws dropping, blood-curling screams blasting from their mouths.

“KISSING??!!!”

“Are you shitting us?!” Ashido gasped.

“Wait, everybody at the pool party is in detention right now,” Tsu pondered. “Which means...”

"WHICH FUCKER HERE GOT A HICKEY?!!” Kirishima screamed.

“H-Hickey?” Yaoyorozu gasped, covering her mouth. “W-W-Why-”

“So innocent, Yaoyorozu!” Sero teased her. “No guy takes you to the locker room without gunning for second base.”

"W-Wait! We should be more respectful of the person. What if they’re not ready to talk about this?” Midoriya said. Whoever it was here, he couldn’t imagine the embarrassment they were feeling right now.

“We’re Class A! We’re family, and family tell each other everything!” Ochaco declared. “We need to know!”

“URARAKA HOW COULD YOU??!!” Midoriya wailed. He thought she would at least be on his side.

“We’re not that close,” Ojiro muttered. Except no one cared to admit that.

“Mou, which two lovebirds here got some good action?” Hagakure giggled.

“Everybody needs to calm down and resume the essay!”

“Come on, Iida, I bet you wanna know too.”

“This shit is fuckin’ stupid,” Bakugo groaned, head falling onto his desk.

“Let’s go to the boys’ locker, find a bra, and match it to the girls here!”

“Mineta, don’t be disrespectful! It’s rude to target only the girls!”

“Iida is right. And who’s to say it’s a hetero boy-girl relationship? We should be considerate of those feelings when we talk about this,” Yayaorozu trailed off, twiddling with her jacket sleeves.

“Yaomomo has a point,” Jiro replied. “Still...”

“It’s definitely a guy and girl in this room, mark my words!” Kamimari declared.

“So that rules out Bakugo.”

“WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN, EAR FREAK?! NOT LIKE I WANNA KISS YOU BITCHES ANYWAY!”

“Language, Bakugo! Especially when it comes to our fellow sisters!” Iida lectured.

“That’s right, we must cherish our sisters!”

“They ain’t sisters if we’re shoving our tongue down their throats,” Bakugo scoffed. Iida and the rest of the class glared at him.

“Well, it ain’t Uraraka cause Midoriya would faint,” Kamimari laughed.

“W-W-W-WHAT ARE YOU IMPLYING???!!!!”

“M-m-m-m-m-me k-k-k-kiss--” Midoriya stuttered under his breath, avoiding any eye contact with Uraraka.

“I have a theory-”

“We don’t care, Bakugo.”

“FINE! GO WASTE THE HOUR WITHOUT ME, WORTHLESS EXTRAS!”

“It ain’t Ashido; she would have told everybody.”

“Ne, why are we so focused on the girls when it was in the boys’ locker room?”

“Tsu’s right,” Yaoyorozu complained. “Why don’t we start with the guys first?”

“They make a valid point,” Shoji replied. “Since it was our locker room, we need to interrogate the guys first.”

“Let’s be real; which guy in this room actually has a chance to kiss, let alone makeout with a girl?” Tokoyami spoke for the first time.

The room fell into a swift depression, with Kirishima, Bakugo, and Kamimaro glaring at him.

“That’s so cruel...” Yayaorozu tried to hold back a snicker.

“Aren’t you speaking about yourself too?” Uraraka pointed out. Tokoyami shrugged.

“Recognizing one’s weakness is the key to greatness.”

“YOU’RE SAYING NO GUY IN CLASS A HAS GAME?!!!”

“HOW COULD YOU BETRAY US, TOKOYAMI?!”

“I’LL GET ALL THE GIRLS TO PROVE YOU WRONG, BIRD SHIT!”

“Regardless of who it was, this is a highly inappropriate discussion. We should respect our friend’s privacy and get back to your essays.”

“Iida, don’t be a buzzkill.”

“But seriously, which guy here did it?!”

“Not Aoyama; he only loves himself.”

“This is hard; Tokoyami is pretty right about the guys in our class,” Tsu sighed.

“Look, everybody,” Midoriya walked to the front of the class. “This is fun, but someone here may be dealing with feelings they’re not sure of. What if it’s a new relationship they don’t want to reveal yet? Plus, we’re now making fun of each other for being single.”

The shouting subsided, followed by slumber faces. Murmurs spread across the room, and Midoriya could hear their regretful tones among each other. Midoriya dared to glance over the Uraraka, who gave him an approving smile. He stood up straighter, spiked with a new confidence to face this ordeal.

Yes, it is always right to protect someone...

“If this class is family, the we have to act like one: Give them their space, and be there to support when they need us.”

“As expected from Midoriya...”

“Such a powerful speech!”

“It’s so much better than me, the person entrusted to lead Class A through good and bad! I have failed as your President!” Iida cried.

“So everybody’s given up, huh?”

Everybody turned back to Bakugo, sitting with his arms crossed and a grin that looked ready to unleash the next natural disaster.

“What do you gotta say, Bakugo?” Jiro snorted

“I dunno, will everybody finally trust my god-given talents?”

“Get on with it,” Shoji sighed.

Bakugo raised his hand to the ceiling, everybody rolling their eyes at his dramatics. Then, his pointer finger landed straight directly at...

“Yaoyorozu?!” Midoriya gasped.

“Our Class VP?”

Yaoyorozu, however, did not flinch, She shook her head, unfazed. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“I can see through your shit, rich girl.”

“It’s not funny, Bakugo! Yaoyorozu would never!” Uraraka defended her friend.

“Isn’t it obvious?! She’s been too diplomatic, playing peacekeeper but getting all riled up. Telling us to interrogate boys first so we wouldn’t suspect her. Also...” Bakugo grabbed his own shirt collar, lifting it slightly as he motioning towards Yaoyorozu. “Her jacket has been zipped up the whole time, and it’s a fuckin’ sauna in here. When does Ponytail ever cover up that much?”

Midoriya caught the first hint of red flush appearing across Yaoyorozu’s cheeks. Sweat beads begin to form on her forehead.

“W-W-Why does that m-matter?” Yaoyorozu scoffed, fiddling with her jacket collar. Strange how Midoriya didn’t notice that until now. As if she was hiding...

“Take off your jacket,” Bakugo demanded.

“THAT’S SO PERVY, BAKUGO!”

"YES BAKUGO, BREAK HER BOOBS FREE-”

“YOU’RE THE LOWEST OF THEM ALL, MINETA!”

“SHUT UP! I DON’T CARE WHO BOUGIE PRINCESS MAKES OUT WITH, WHAT MATTER IS THAT I AM RIGHT!”

“OH MY GOD, BAKUGO HAS TO BE THE CULPRIT!”

“ONLY YOU WOULD SINK SO LOW TO ACCUSE YAOYOROZU!’

“DID NOBODY HEAR ME?! I HAVE REAL EVIDENCE!”

“I bet he dragged Kirishima and Kamimari for a good three-”

“Stop!” Yaoyorozu cried. “it was me, OK?! Is everybody happy now? Can we not taunt Bakugo like that and just finish up detention in peace?”

Yaoyorozu unziped her jacket and lo and behold, the evidence was there. A small, purple bruise...right on her neck. Midoriya couldn’t believe it; Yaoyorozu Momo had lured herself. Not only as a rule breaker, but something even more critical to this situation. If not, worsen the mood.

“WHO GAVE YOU THAT HICKY??!!!”

“WHICH FUCKER HERE GOT YAOYOROZU??!!”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL THE GIRLS FIRST?”

“THIS JUST GOT WORSE!”

“I WAS RIIIGGGGHHHHHTTTTT!!”

“AHHHH YAOMOMO HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!”

“YOU NEVER HAD A CHANCE, MINETA!”

“DON’T EVER UNDERESTIMATE ME AGAIN!”

“It wasn’t anybody here,” Yaoyorozu grumbled, avoiding everybody’s death glares. However, Midoriya could still see her face reddening with each second passing.

“THEN WHO??!! CLASS B DOUCHES?!”

“PLEASE, YAOYOROZU, ANYBODY BUT CLASS B!”

Midoriya got startled when Tokoyami tapped his shoulder. He nudged at Midoriya to speak privately, away from the chaos of their classmates and the unfortunate victim that was Yaoyorozu.

“I don’t want to make this a big deal with them but...” he whispered under his breath. “...The only students who knew about the pool party was our class, but someone’s missing.”

“Ah, you’re right! But why does that...” Midoriya drifted off, coming to a silent conclusion alongside Tokoyami. “Wait, you don’t think it could be...”

------

“Normally, I throw everybody in the same room, but given the circumstances of your delinquency...” Midnight began, lips gradually transforming into a mischievous grin. “...It made sense to keep you two separate.”

“Works for me,” muttered the young sixteen year old, as he mopped the teachers’ lounge.

“Think of this as a generous favor, Todoroki-kun. No one will know about you and Yaoyorozu yet.”

The emphasis on “yet,” which Todoroki tried hard not to cling to. Unfortunately, it backfired in mere seconds when he heard the voice of his explosive classmate hollering throughout the entire building.

"IT’S HALF-N-HALF BASTARD!!!! I KNEEEEWWWWW ITTTTT!!!!”

————————

That’s a wrap! I hope you guys enjoyed this fic! Please feel free to leave any feedback as I’m always striving to improve as a writer.

#todomomo #todomomo one shot #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todomomo fanfiction

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witchygirl99 · 5 years ago

Text

12 Days of Witchyness 2019

Despite knowing that time was, in fact, moving forward, I still can’t believe that December is almost here. And by extension, the 12 Days are almost here. There have been so many amazing, fabulous, wonderful prompts (16 of them!). There have also been heavily owed prompts from last year that need completing (*coughs* forgive me @keichanz, @brokenangelwings83 and @coquinespike *coughs*)

And so - to ensure completion of as many damn stories as possible, I am going to create this list of stories and provide updates on my progress. All of you can heavily judge me. You judgement will be greatly appreciated to kick my butt in gear.

Without further ado, the list of fics are below the cut. If I haven’t started your story, never fear, I will get there. Judge away.

Golden: Humans are going to die. The God of War has decreed it and now the fate of the mortal world rests on the shoulders of one Demi-God, an abomination. But what makes it all worse is not the other Goddesses flocking to his side, nor the fatally cursed human that keeps appearing. No. It's one Goddess dressed all in white. Her name is Truth and she comes from the Well. InuKag. MirSan. - 15% complete

Believe Me When I Say: Miroku has a problem. Everyone and their mothers think that he and Sango are dating, which is not in fact true. They're ice dancers; they have to look like they're in love to tell a story, to woo the audience, to captivate the judges. So they're not dating. And if Miroku is actually in love with his partner of fifteen years? Well. He's just really good at his job then. MirSan. InuKag. - 10% complete

Hell is Just a Sauna: A 10 Things I Hate about You AU. That's all that needs to be said, really. InuKag. MirSan. - 70% complete

Don't Close Your Eyes: She almost died. As a cop, that kind of thing was always on the table, always a lingering fear. But her near-death experience wasn’t the most terrifying part of her day. Oh no. That particular title went to the silver-haired, dog-eared ghost that was now following her around. Scowling at her. InuKag. - 85% complete

Maybe So: He growls then, golden eyes glaring at the ceiling like it personally offended him. "I'll pay you, for fuck's sake," he grits out. Kagome can't help but feel like she's entered some new reality. Asshole extraordinaire who eats all her chips is now begging for her to be his fake girlfriend when his mom visits? And he's going to pay her for it? Kagome opens her mouth and says the first thing she thinks of. "You realize you have to be nice to a girlfriend, right? Or is that why you're still single?" InuKag, MirSan. - 20% complete

It Goes Like This: He sees her, chatting happily while she wiped down counters and made faces at her friends. She was beautiful. Exciting. Compelling in a way that made his throat close. And so he looks away, back down at his laptop and the blinking cursor in his document. He writes instead. InuKag.- 15% complete

Don't Ask Me: A Pennies and Dimes continuation, featuring Human!Inuyasha. InuKag. - 50% complete

Swallow: Inuyasha leaned on the bar, getting his face nice and close to the bartender with big brown eyes and a shy smile. "There's a rumour going around that you're the one to ask if someone needs to acquire rare and dangerous objects." The shy smile turned wicked, a slow unveiling that had his golden eyes tracking her lips. She leaned in even closer, enough to feel the gentle whoosh of breath as she replied, "Mm, well. There's a rumour going around that you're an undercover cop." InuKag.- 10% complete

Circles: And with that, Inuyasha continued to stare at his cell phone, letting the horror wash over him. It was Tuesday. Again. Which meant that he'd been within ten feet of his soulmate without having met them. Which meant he'd have to relive the no-good, very bad, homicidal-rage-inducing day all over again. And again. Until he found them. Motherf--. InuKag. - 0% complete

The Truth About Love: Cupid was a six year runt with big green eyes, floppy red hair, and so many freckles you could barely make out anything else. He was also a terrible freaking shot. InuKag. - 0% complete

Deductions: A Sherlock AU. InuKag.- 15% complete

(Don't) Reminisce on Me: Inuyasha stared at his captain. "No," he said, incredulous and uncaring. "You've got to be kidding me. Partnering me with the new kid on the block? Have you seen her? Looks like jail bait, acts super endearing, and says some kind of compliment every five seconds? I'll shoot her." A detective AU. InuKag. MirSan. - 0% complete

Nepenthe: The sea was her prison, her home, her torment. Despite living the past century, she had never forgotten the day she officially died, thrown overboard to taunts and jeers of drunken men. Left her to drown, and drown she did. Until the sea wrapped it's cold tendrils around her, taking and claiming, leaving only a monster left. InuKag. - 0 % complete

Sincerely Yours: He never expects to fall in love with handwriting. A face, sure. A voice, probably. But handwriting? That is, however, a thing that has now happened. Miroku thinks the whole thing is hilarious. OR: Inuyasha and Kagome are betrothed, and write letters until they meet. InuKag. MirSan. - 0% complete

So Yeah: Kagome was like any other thirsty thirty year-old going through a quarter-life crisis and mental breakdown at the same time. She dreamed about her boss. If like 50% of them were of her breaking his fingers one-by-one, and the other half about him putting those fingers to much better use? Well. She couldn't be blamed. He was beautiful until he opened his stupid, jerk mouth. InuKag. - 5% complete

Instance: Part III: What it says on the tin, folks. InuKag. - 0% complete

Not Even an Inch: A continuation of The Space in Between. InuKag. - 0% complete

Your Gaze Upon Mine: A Pride and Prejudice AU. InuKag. MirSan. - 0% complete

#12 days of witchyness

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tk-duveraun · 5 years ago

Note

Bad things happen bingo request feat Claude/Byleth (Either of the Byleth's), with Tearful Smile for prompt.

ALRIGHT, WHO WANTS TO FUCKING SUFFER :D

Support me: ko-fi patreon commissions

Byleth held her breath as the bodies of Nemesis and his resurrected Ten Elites dissolved into dust blown away on a mystic wind. She turned, looking for her heart, for Claude, but she couldn’t see anything past the width of Raphael’s shoulders. He picked her up and spun her around. He was congratulating her. They all were, all of her students. At first, she couldn’t hear them over her phantom pulse in her ears. Yes, yes, she’d won, but where was Claude?

Eventually, Lorenz had his lips pursed in that way he crooked them after asking a question and she turned her ears back on. The victory belonged to everyone, not just her and Claude. She could see him once they were safely ensconced in the monastery. “What was that Lorenz?”

“Do you think those were truly the spirits of our ancestors, Professor? They certainly matched the descriptions from the War of Heroes.” He adjusted the charred remains of his rose pin.

She rubbed her cheek, feeling the ash and blood mix and congeal into a horrific sludge to wash off later. “I think they were just shadows with the ‘right’ appearances. These people seemed to have an affinity for… dramatic irony.”

“It will certainly make the tales for our descendents more interesting.”

“And think of the painting! I wish I’d brought my sketchbook.”

Byleth pulled Ignatz, whole, uninjured Ignatz, into a hug. “I’m glad you didn’t. I just want to… Go home. And rest.”

“But not for another five years, right Professor?” Hilda put a hand on the center of her back and guided her purposefully across the battlefield.

It bothered her that they were so unsubtly keeping her away from Claude, but that was standard. Ever since they learned of her ability to wind back time, they did everything in their power to hide even the most minor of injuries lest she be tempted to push her power and try to fix things. She considered fighting against them, insisting to see him, but the war was over. Truly, properly over. She’d let them have this one.

—

The celebratory feast filled Garreg Mach Monastery with music, light and food. Lorenz played a delicate wind instrument next to Ashe, who had a brass horn with three times the twists and spirals as a command horn. Hilda joined in the singing, loud, out of tune, but still enjoyed by everyone. Annette and Mercedes went around the hall coaxing everyone into dances. Nothing like the prim, proper noble dances, just jaunty, energic, folk dances with lots of kicking and yelling and spinning until everyone sported smiles and flushed cheeks.

The cheer did nothing to invigorate Byleth. She felt empty from the top of her head to the soles of her boots and down below them until it reached the bedrock under the Ohgma Mountains. Wielding the Sword of the Creator felt like pumping her heartblood into every strike and jab. She would return it to Serios’ casket and never touch it again. After that, she didn’t know. The war didn’t feel truly over. Not after two false-starts on celebrations. Tears of exhaustion pricked her eyes and she felt like a toddler who’d missed their nap.

After a half-hearted dance with Sylvain, who couldn’t take his eyes off Felix the entire time, she snuck away to her room. Without even changing her clothes, she flopped down on her stomach and fell asleep so fast and so hard she may as well have fainted.

—

The next morning, Annette dragged her first to the baths and then into the sauna. Byleth didn’t stop the charade until she was rambling something about an exfoliating mask and other words she didn’t think were real. “I’m going to eat. And then I am going to see Claude. And no one is going to stop me. Go ahead and tell the others with planned distractions to leave me alone. No one will appreciate it if I have to start cutting through the walls to get to the infirmary.”

Annette squeaked, nodded and sprinted off, tripping over first the door frame and then seemingly nothing once she was outside.

The food tasted like so much ash in her mouth, but she’d eaten plenty of truly ash-flavored food over the course of the war. And at least it didn’t have the… crunchy bits that were common to Flayn’s meals. Dimitri had nearly returned to himself, but with the war over he’d return to Fhirdiad, taking Dedue and the one true source of delightful meals with him. And Ashe, she supposed, but he and Dedue were rather a matched set, since the latter reappeared. A matched set. Perfect and bound and…

Byleth shoved her plate into the center of the table and stood abruptly.

Annette stiffened in her seat. “P-professor!”

She smiled at them: bright and fake and a match, a match to every smile Claude gave during the war. “Everything will be fine.”

It wasn’t fine. It was painfully far from fine. It was across the sea to Brigid and beyond from fine.

Claude’s skin would have been white as bone if it wasn’t a sickly green-yellow. Marianne’s lower lip wobbles and the dark shadows are back under her eyes. “Professor… It’s good that you came now. There’s not… There’s not much time left.”

Byleth touched his face and his skin was cold, clammy and unresponsive. Though clean, his hair was limp and his eyes were sunken in. Something that felt like it should have been her heart was stuck in her throat blocking out words. She pressed their foreheads together. She didn’t look away. “What happened?”

“Stomach wound. Magic closed the wounds - internal and external - but no spell or medicine has been able to… It could be some kind of magical poisoning. We just don’t know.”

“Did you ask Flayn? Seteth?”

“They… They didn’t know, either.” Marianne pushed her face into view. “I can wake him up for- For a while.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she forced the smile from the dining hall back onto her face. “Please.”

Marianne’s hands glowed yellow for a moment. Once the magic set in, she fled the room, giving them privacy.

Green eyes dull even in the vibrant infirmary lights blinked up at her. “Hey there, my friend…” He smiled. A true smile that always came out when he saw her.

“I love you.” Byleth clapped a hand over her mouth as it gave a traitorous sob.

He lifted a hand to her cheek, but it struggled halfway there. She carried it the rest of the way to her cheek, feeling the chill of death sink into her skin. “I love, Byleth. I’m never going to let you go.”

She smiled down at him, even as her tears splashed hot against his hand.

His eyes closed and his arm went limp.

#claude von riegan #byleth #Annette Fantine Dominic #bylaude #claudeleth #claudeth #bad things happens bingo #Anonymous

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loyalflutist · 5 years ago

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Scarlet Carnation - Chapter 3 (F!Byleth x Edelgard)

Collaboration with @datsexykiwi

A/N: Not much to add here other than this took me a while. Hope you enjoy it! Chapter 4 should be up soon with Kate’s part.

>> Previous Chapter

---

How long has this been going on for?

This… back and forth exchange between the two worlds... It has been going on for some time. Whenever she closes her eyes, when she falls into a state of unconsciousness, she would be bolted awake to another world.

One with an older Edelgard.

One with a younger Edelgard.

They were the same person, but also not the same.

They were perfectly identical, but drastically differed.

‘ Edelgard… ’

It would be incorrect to surmise that Byleth has gotten used to it. Nearly a whole month crawled by on the calendar, yet her comprehension defined the situation as a trippy episode. A long, trippy episode that continuously looped.

‘ When will this ever end? ‘

Byleth pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead as she stood inside the greenhouse. Slight fatigue, occasional headaches, and sporadic dizzy spells seem to have plagued the poor woman after the first week.

She narrowed her hues as the muscles from her left eye continuously twitch. Discussion with Sothis back in her world theoretically explained that her physical features may be unaffected, but the same treatment does not apply to her mentality. It was unnoticeable at first. Waking up between the realms was as natural as transferring from vehicle to vehicle. One week… two weeks… three… Then, a month. As today marked the end of the first month, Byleth was assaulted with the creeping nuisances. Her hand slid down till it vertically concealed half of her facial features.

‘ It feels like I’m awake 24/7… ’

There seems to be no cure for it either. Hark, it must have been a blessing that from the time she “returned” back to this dimension, she participated in nothing more than minor skirmishes! Battles hardly lasted an hour, the other side raised their white flags or were brutally eliminated in the process. Had she partaken in anything longer… Another small thud clunk against her skull. Almost as if on cue, the professor stumbled to the side as her entire vision tilted. If it weren’t for her outreached hand, she would have crashed right into a patch of flowers.

“...”

She kneeled down, lowered her head, closed her eyes, and slowed her breathing. Swirls of blackness rippled throughout the dark surroundings. Drums beat in the background, her blanketed vision pulsed in-sync with her pounding heart. She roughly scraped her nails among the ledge’s surface.

Fascination for everlasting peace and quiet found only in sleep was strong. Alas, reality was cruel and unfortunate to the teacher. Even a nap would toss her back to her own world, lest they occur at randomized parts of the day. (Comically, she had “woken” up when she was in the midst of taking a dip in the sauna!) The fact that blurred imagery inserted itself into the equation amplified her exhaustion. Flickering flames tickled her exposed skin, gentle breeze of the seawater reminds her of the great ocean, shadowed figures present with short white noise blurbs… Ambiguity is an understatement.

Byleth pursed her lips. She can’t even determine the source of the visions she’s forced to experience. Not even Sothis has the answer to it yet! Perhaps her savior would be found in death alone after all.

‘ I don’t have much of a choice, do I. ’

That alternative option sent a chill down her spine. Her fingers coincidentally brushed upon the scarlet carnation. She instinctively retracted her applied hand, cracked open her eyelids, and wearily gazed at the plant.

A flower that she had planted alongside with Edelgard... A flower that she still could not remember having planted alongside with Edelgard. Despite the blank card that Byleth keeps on pulling, it did not deter her from singing praises for the object of interest. The high sun’s rays made its petals glimmer with striking beauty. Conducting a basic observation had alleviated the foreign adverse effects in a matter of seconds. An exhale trembled past her partially parted lips as she grazed upon its thin petals once more.

‘ Scarlet carnation… ’

Byleth resisted the temptation to snap the flower’s stem. Instead, she mindlessly glossed her thumb and index finger over it.

It was a majestic piece of art. She recalled the much older lord speaking about it; a cheery disposition prominent with the subject. Every single time she returned to this realm, the white-haired would drag her professor into the greenhouse. Regardless of her teacher’s state, they would always walk into the organized greenery. No skips and no excuses. They would always arrive without fail.

‘ She really wants me to see the flowers with her. I wonder why? ’

Asking questions about this intriguing matter is a useless feat. First of all, despite her lack of social etiquettes, Byleth knew that a negative connotation would be implied. No matter how careful she chooses her words, they will slug Edelgard across the face. Second, it seems as though there is this odd fixation with the flowers. The ex-mercenary was not sure why, but the vermillion emperor made it a necessary part of her life to see the botanical object. She would touch the scarlet carnation, lean down, reminisce about their past, straighten her posture, turn to Byleth, and engage in a banter. Each day followed this protocol to a T.

Not even the others knew. Not even Dorothea, who was one of the few closest friends to Edelgard.

“Edie has been visiting the flowers ever since you’ve disappeared five years ago, Professor,” Dorothea remarked, a weary sigh followed. “I had originally thought she was watching over the carnations you’ve both planted. It turns out that she still visits them.”

“Is there a particular reason as to why Edelgard is so hung up on these flowers?”

When presented with this question, Dorothea shrugged her shoulders.

“I do not know the answer, Professor. All I know is that she always wanted to be alone with the carnations when you were gone.” A faint smile blossomed on the songstress, genuine like a lone sunflower in the midst of cruelty. “Perhaps it is a blessing that you came back. Now she doesn’t have to see them by herself.”

Byleth retracted her fingers from the plant.

‘ Too bad I’m here alone. ’

Unfortunately, Edelgard had to take her leave early. Ferdinand, Petra, and Dorothea called the emperor over for a strategic meeting. Although Byleth normally oversees and guide these alumni, Hanneman suggested that she take a break.

“You always seem so tired, Professor. I think you should relax for today.”

She remembered touching the skin beneath her eye while he strongly advised her. The ex-mercenary would normally object to such bewildering claim. Tired? Please, her physical condition is in tip-top shape. If they were to go into battle within the next minute, Byleth would be the first one in the frontline. She would have more than enough energy to slay those that stand in their way.

At least, that would be what she would do if she did not possess these obnoxious side effects. Besides, the older male seems to act as if it were in her best interest to heed his words; his firm and steady look made it impossible to counter and object.

“If only Manuela were here… She would have you checked up in no time.”

His attentive features of a wise scholar drooped. Hanneman’s vision began to metaphorically cloud as his thoughts crawled back to the other professor. Why, oh why, did Manuela side with the Kingdom of Faerghus? Out of all the quantifiable and qualitative problems he’s encountered, none of them were like this. Not a single research article or book could elaborate on the finer details of this intricate ordeal.

Did she betray him? Or did he betray her?

He shook his head. The contagious twinkle that shone behind his monocular dulled despite forming a small smile.

“Farewell, Professor. I will see you soon.”

Those were his last words before walking away and leaving Byleth all alone in the monastery’s garden. Silence followed afterward, save it for the two gardeners tending to the plants. Though the professor could have parted from the premise, she decided to stick around. Furthermore, the sun’s rays basked her figure; the temperature within her environment was at an ideal condition. (If she were to become an animal in the next life, she would not hesitate to choose a cat.) Mere minutes of serenity ticked by until it led to the present time.

“...”

She sat on the ledge opposite of the grandiose double doors. Fingers intertwined, she gazed past the open barriers. Students’ chatters and laughter had all been replaced with imperturbable guards and prideful soldiers. There were members of mercenaries outside of Jeralt’s group even present too! Byleth firmed her lips, the tip of her thumbs unconsciously tapping each other. She eventually closed her eyes as a warm breeze ruffled her large overcoat and bangs.

How ironic for a diverse population with little to no similarities band together under times of war.

‘ Edelgard really is something, isn’t she… ’

“Professor, is that really you?”

The ex-mercenary snapped open her lids. She found herself staring at three students; all of whom were from the Blue Lions House. Aside from Sylvain, Ingrid Brandl Galatea and Mercedes von Martrtiz were present.

Byleth widens her eyes as her thumbs stilled. She remembered them… Back in her world, she had taken the time to get to know everyone. As the days crawled by, Ingrid and Mercedes explicitly hinted their interest in joining Byleth’s class. Their brilliant auras radiated whenever they spot the professor. Small talks were engaged. An occasional visit with Felix, Sylvain, and Dimitri wiggled their way into their conversations. Livelihood was an understatement once they came together. Unfortunately, it never went beyond that point. The two remained under Hanneman’s teaching; lamentations mushed in their intonation.

“Maybe one day we can join your class, Professor.”

She slowly got up from her seat, her gaze fixated on the two newcomers.

‘ It seems in this realm, they were recruited. ’

Then, a smile broke from Byleth. Although she had lost her father, Hubert, Caspar, Bernadetta, Linhardt, and the majority of colleagues from the Church of Seiros in this world, the fact that Ingrid and Mercedes were a part of her allies swelled a bubble deep within her chest. She placed a hand on it; a short burst of air coming from her mouth.

“You both…”

Without warning, Ingrid launched herself at the teacher.

“Professor–!”

Had it not been for the large, overgrown leaves, the warrior would have tumbled backward into the soil! Many question marks flew out of her head as Ingrid tightly hugged the professor; a torrent of tears burst through the dam in addition. This nearly gave Byleth a heart attack. Someone who is more of a knight than every knight that existed in this era has crumpled into a shriveled ball. How out of character for Ingrid!

The tactician quickly recomposed herself and closed her arms around the sobbing blonde. This caused a stronger reaction to arise from the young woman. Byleth partly opened her mouth as she began to pat her back. As Ingrid buried her face into Byleth’s chest like that of a mourning child, Mercedes clasped her hands together in the background.

“It’s a miracle that you’ve returned to us, Professor,” she softly smiled. “Although Lady Edelgard would not approve of my belief, I say that the Goddess has answered our prayers.”

“You think so, Mercedes?” Sylvain ran his fingers through his hair with a forced grin. “Frankly, I think it’s just a stroke of luck that the Professor is here.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that she was here sooner?” Ingrid parted from Byleth’s bosom. She glanced over her shoulder and shot dagger-like glares. “I would’ve hurried from the battlefield!”

“I hope you understand that it took several weeks for the messenger to deliver the news to you.”

She blinked. Soon enough, the knight released her hold on the seated ex-mercenary and approached the red-hair. Byleth merely blinked as Mercedes clasped her hands once more for another prayer. The white magus began to whisper under her breath the instant Ingrid jabbed her finger on Sylvain’s chest plate.

“Several weeks? Um, it should’ve been several days, Sylvain. You expect me to believe that?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You were so busy flirting with her, weren’t you?”

“I wasn’t flirting with her! That was a guy, FYI.”

“Huh… Didn’t know you swing both directions… Can’t say that I’m surprised.”

“Ingrid!”

Their arguments escalated to a degree, but it appears that they swerved off course. Both ex-Blue Lion House members hands flailed as their banter continues. To summarize the extent of their on-going quarrel, it was like watching chipmunks go at it.

Byleth had to stifle a chuffed chuckle as she got up on her two feet. Physically, they have changed. The two females had chopped off their hair. One became a sturdy warrior. One became a combat medic. Yet mentally and spiritually, they remain true to their core. It was like a snapshot of the golden days from the Officers Academy. Someone had simply aged up the students by five years.

The professor’s chest ached, and she shifted her weight.

‘ I have to remember Sothis’s words. ’

This was not her world. She has no right to meddle in it. No matter how many times she had been dragged over to this realm, she must not be attached to any of these students. These students are not her students. Still… She looked over at the holy maiden. Mercedes, who had completed her small chants, felt a sharp gaze bear upon her fragile figure. The student, who was and is older than Byleth by one year, reciprocated the attention with a giggle.

Byleth curled her fingers inward, nails digging into the palm of her hand. How could she distance herself from them? They were not figments of her imagination. Everyone around her was so human. They were her students, yet they were not. They were just like Edelgard.

“Professor? How are you feeling?” She recognized the timbre of a mother in Mercedes’s voice. The magus closed their proximity until they were standing side-by-side. Although their hues occasionally swipe to the comical interactions between the two close childhood friends, their words paid utmost care to each other’s responses and well-beings. “You seem tired.”

“That isn’t the first I’ve heard from today.”

“I see…” After a period of silence, Mercedes continued. “It’s important to watch over yourself. It would be worrisome if you were to collapse.”

“I’ll try.”

“Trying isn’t good enough.”

“Okay, I will.”

The older female puffed her cheeks. However, she pushed the topic no further. Hopefully, the professor would adhere to her advice. As for the teacher, she decided to talk about another matter.

“Ingrid mentioned that you were both out on the battlefield.”

“Ah, yes. We had to scout in the Leicester Alliance for information during the past few months.”

“That explains why I didn’t see you and Ingrid when I first arrived.”

“I wish we could’ve come sooner… Though it was fortunate that we didn’t run into any enemies on the way back.”

“I see.” She briefly paused. “Mercedes, what happened these past five years?”

“Didn’t Lady Edelgard tell you everything?”

“Yes, but I wish to hear from you all,” Byleth reached out to grab the female’s hands. “I can’t imagine how much stress you’re all undergoing.”

“Professor…”

Mercedes’s exhaled, albeit with a slight tremble.

Despite the blank characteristics that adorn the ex-mercenary, Byleth has always taken steps for her students. For the maiden, it was a little odd as she is older than the woman. Hark, she even scolds Byleth! She should be the one to take initiative as a guardian to those younger than her. Yet that never occurred when it came to Byleth. Mercedes would wither into a fetal position at the comfort of the young woman’s presence. Not even Annette, her best friend, could put her at ease… No, it wasn’t that. It was because the only person she finds solace in is the person she was willing to betray her entire nation and friends... That included Annette.

She moistened her lower lip and dryly swallowed.

Where would she even begin? Being stressed is a euphemism. Another exhale. Edelgard wasn’t the only one suffering in this conflict… A gentle squeeze brought her back to the present. Banters and bickers steadily thumped upon her eardrums as she blinked rapidly. Mercedes slanted her now-sunken eyes and forced the corner of her lips to tug upward.

Ever since the Church of Seiros was overthrown at the monastery, Mercedes, Ingrid, Sylvain, Leonie, and Lysithea regrouped with Edelgard and the remainders of the Black Eagle Strike Squad. Betrayal of their house leaders and nations resonated deeply to their cores. Ferocious resentment and outrage blew up on their ends; Dimitri threatened to eliminate the traitors, Claude simply accepted his fate of losing the two girls. Both house leaders were disappointed in their decisions. The reaction they received wounded them deeper than any battle injuries.

Yet they continued onward valiantly. Mutual trust spurred as the five continued to march forward hand-in-hand. They had each other. They were the only one who truly understood the anguish of betraying those they love for their beliefs.

Frankly, they do not have much in common with the new emperor’s beliefs. Sylvain and Lysithea strongly believed in the permanent removal of the Crests. They were the closest to Edelgard. Leonie promised to protect Byleth at all cost after a promise with Jeralt. She wished to become a protector for Byleth. Ingrid and Mercedes were mostly aligned with Byleth. They trusted in Byleth more so than Edelgard. Overall, what they all possess was a slimmer of hope for the one star they followed under: Byleth.

“After we were told you died, I wasn’t sure how to react.”

Grief and regret gnawed at their very soul. The star they had tailed after disappeared without a trace. Questions began to bubble deep within their chest. Unlike the Black Eagles, the five were outsiders. The only connection they’ve ever had with the Adrestian Empire’s warriors was from the tactician. Otherwise, they would never spare a glance at them. Their hands were becoming clammy as they fretted and tiptoed around their irreversible decision.

“Was it right for us to remain by Lady Edelgard’s side? We’ve thought long and hard about it together.” Mercedes began to loosen her grip on Byleth’s hands. “In the end, we decided to stay here.”

“Why?”

Strength trickled back into her fingers as she tightened her hold.

“We believed you would return to us.”

Byleth nearly bit her own tongue. Though she may lack many crucial social etiquettes, the professor is no fool… even if silence isn’t the correct answer either.

Turns out, the five’s patience paid off. The professor they’ve come to love and respect has made her comeback!

Hallelujah! It was time to rejoice!

But the time before her arrival? It was complete Hell; dark red and black discolored their flimsy visual lens.

Though Lysithea recovered from her grief and picked herself up in a matter of days, the others were not so quick. Ingrid had holed herself in the bedroom for almost a full month. Quiet sobs echoed throughout the silent nights. Sylvain began to waver between Edelgard’s mission and Dimitri’s purpose for the war. Without the teacher, his sight muddled. Leonie constantly visited Jeralt’s grave and begged for forgiveness. How could she live up to his expectations if she couldn’t even protect his child? Mercedes frequented the chapel. Day and night, she offered prayers for the eventual return of the ex-mercenary. Oh, may the goddess please grant her blessings to the unfortunate lost soul that is called their professor!

Time marched forward without pause; time and tide wait for no man. One year clocked in… two years… three… four… then five years. The glimmer of hope the five scoured desperately for was beginning to dim. Alas, the five years did not crawl by with complete inaction; Edelgard and Hubert put them to work for the empire.

Leonie, Sylvain, and Lysithea were in charge of maintaining order here at the disheveled academy. The three would stand guard, switch shifts with patrol officers, and investigate any abnormalities or suspicious activities. Many eyes were required to uphold the recently seized area. Losing it would spell a great disaster for the Adrestian Empire’s future operations.

As for Mercedes and Ingrid, they were in charge of scouting the Leicester Alliance. Although there were plans to tackle small parts of the Kingdom of Faerghus, the political climate made it impossible to execute them. The best course of action was to sniff out plots from the divided domain. Edelgard and Hubert had also decided that their skills were best suited for gathering intel. Ingrid and her pegasus could travel high above the ground and cover great lengths; Mercedes is a priest who could heal and provide necessary therapies for the battalions.

Besides, it could be seen from a mile away that Ingrid needed some time away from the monastery.

“I knew Lady Edelgard took it hard when she lost you, but the same could be said for Ingrid.”

“?”

“She took it the hardest right after Lady Edelgard. Unlike the emperor, she became mute and refuse to speak to anyone other than to us four.”

“...”

A glance was shot at the knight. Ingrid was still up and at it with Sylvain. She had pulled on his cheeks as the red-hair tried to escape from her iron clutch. Tears flowed down his cheeks in an exaggerated fashion with every stretch of his skin. Their childish nature nearly cast trickery to distract most bystanders into a pleasant illusion of a peaceful today.

Is there a reason as to why Ingrid would feel so crushed? Byleth opened her mouth, only to be cut off by Mercedes.

“Perhaps it is best that Ingrid had Sylvain with her. If it weren’t for him, I’m sure she would have starved to death in the room… Not saying that you aren’t a part of her recovery. We’re thankful that you came back.”

“What about you?” Byleth shifted attention to the priestess. “How are you feeling?”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“...”

Now it was Mercedes turn to become speechless. She parted her lips… but felt inaudible, airy words pass through her trachea. She tried again. The words were now caught in her throat. In turn, she clamped her mouth shut.

How kind of Byleth… The holy maiden was always so busy caring for others, she had forgotten about herself. Mercedes demeanor made it near impossible to determine how she truly felt. No one came to her aid. Not even Lysithea, Leonie, Sylvain, and Ingrid. If they ever attempted, like Sylvain, they incorrectly concluded about her inner turmoil. This pushed her raging, emotional storm further to the backburner.

No one would understand her. Why should she try to make them understand her?

Her internal strife intensified after the following events. The loss of Byleth was one matter. She could vividly recall the goosebumps that spread throughout her exposed skin. Mercedes felt the wind knocked out of her system by an invisible punch from the tragic news. Betraying her nation was also another matter. Dimitri must be so furious by now. He had always valued loyalty and goodness in people. The fact that Mercedes must turn her back towards him and their nation created a ripple to her adopted homeland. What weighed the heaviest was the fact she turned her back towards Annette.

Annette… Annie… Her Annie.

She would have to face her soon.

Does… it mean that she has to kill Annie?

Can’t she avoid it?

No, war is not as kind as she would expect.

Can she still pray for a miracle though?

Her knuckles became as white as a sheet.

“...I’m okay.”

The tiny whisper was so quiet, Byleth nearly missed it.

“Are you sure?”

Mercedes nodded. Was she truly okay? Not really. She wished to pound her fists on the pillow and scream into it. The wailing of Annette’s name swelled within her chest too. Each passing second enhanced its effect. It would be better if she could hop on a pegasus or horse and escape into the wilderness. Somewhere far away from conflict… Just like Marianne when she disappeared with her horse since the siege of Garreg Mach, only to never return.

However, the fact that her professor, in which she had not seen in five years, took the time to worry about her well-being tampered the tempting raw offer. How selfish of Mercedes! As someone older by one year, she has a job of looking over her juniors! She even promised herself to take care of Byleth!

Still, there’s nothing wrong with falling into her teacher’s outreach arms, right...? She yearns to have someone take care of her… and it turns out that this teal-haired female fits the role perfectly.

“Thank you for coming back to us, Professor.” Their physical connection broke apart. Mercedes genuinely smiled as she slanted her eyes. “You mean so much for all of us.”

Was she really that important to their lives? Byleth’s cheeks shone a tinge of pink. Despite her disconnection with this realm, the fact that she was held up with great esteem was difficult to brush aside. These students needed her… Without the shepherd, they were nothing more than lost lambs, awaiting for their demise by the wolves’ fangs and claws.

In turn, she smiled at them. It was rare for Byleth to smile. This caused the heated debate between Sylvain and Ingrid to die down once they peeked at her direction. Whenever she smiled, it only meant positive news were to follow. Three of the Blue Lion’s House members gave their undivided attention to the professor as she motioned to them.

“I’m happy to be here for you all.”

Sylvain, Ingrid, and Mercedes simultaneously placed a hand on their chest, their eyes nearly boggled out the sockets. Those honest words nearly ceased the three’s heart functions! A light discoloration tickled Sylvain and Mercede’s cheeks. As for Ingrid, a deep shade of crimson washed over the entirety of her face. This feature did not escape their eyes, especially from someone like Sylvain. He smirked and tapped his elbow to Mercedes.

“Looks like someone’s got the hots for the teacher…”

“@#*%$!”

Incoherent sounds spouted out of Ingrid’s mouth without warning. Still as red as a beet, the short-haired tried to slug him on the shoulder. Not that it stopped him from the teasing. He simply guarded his precious man-shoulders and heartfully laughed. Both Mercedes and him eventually ushered Ingrid to have a private moment with Byleth.

“Don’t do anything naughty, okay?”

“SYLVAIN!”

“I’m sure the goddess would forgive you if such sins were to be committed.”

“MERCEDES, NOT YOU TOO!”

Ludicrously, the knight regained control of her shaky limbs and shooed them out of the greenhouse. Watching the three act immature brought another wave of nostalgia. No… nostalgia didn’t fit the bill. Her true world possess all of her students when they were young; their personalities were retained. This world simply hit the fast-forward button, yet she was not present during the time-skip. In spite of that, Byleth stared in awe at their energetic selves.

It was as if the war never occurred.

It was as if they were back to their ordinary lives.

It was a crafty illusion that clouded their senses like a quick high.

Sylvain and Mercedes understood that their banters should come to closure for now. (They could always catch up with Ingrid later… and probably catch up on the juicy gossip.) The professor waved farewell to the duo as the knight puffed fumed. Byleth and Ingrid were left to their own device soon afterward.

“...”

Utter silence hung in the air. It did not help that there was a thick atmosphere that weighed down on their shoulders, undeterred by the group’s earlier optimism. When Byleth extended her hand out, Ingrid immediately took ahold of it. She enveloped them in her grip and placed them onto her own rosy cheek. Heat seeped into the female’s face as Byleth tilted her head from the development.

“I really miss you so much, Professor,” the blonde nestled into the tactician’s rough palm. “I thought I would never see you ever again.”

“Ingrid…”

“I know staying depressed won’t help me. Actually, it would only make matters worse. That’s what happened with my fiance’s death… But ever since Lady Edelgard reported on your death, I could not find myself to roll out of bed. It was as if I’m reliving it all over again.”

She inched closer till the tip of their nose bumped each other. Afterward, Ingrid promptly landed on the side of her face into Byleth’s shoulder. The plop nearly startled the professor, her shoulders instinctively hitched. Nevertheless, Byleth recomposed. Arms that were wide open encircled the knight in due time.

Not a single word was exchanged between the two. Just two women embracing each other into a hug. It was a tender reunion that might even rival Edelgard’s! Ingrid exhales tickled Byleth’s exposed neck.

“Professor?”

“Hm?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

Ingrid deeply breathed. She parted from the teal-haired’s comfort. Lower lip moistened, the pegasus rider gulped.

“I…”

“...”

“I… Wow, this is… harder than I thought.”

“Ingrid,” Byleth captured the rider’s hands and smoothed the back of it with her thumbs. “Do not be afraid. I will always be here for you.”

“R-Right…”

She began a small breathing exercise. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in… breathe out. Ingrid moistened the bottom pink flesh once more.

“I…”

“My teacher, I have returned.”

Unfortunately, the private time they shared came to an abrupt closure as Edelgard arrived on premise. Their heads whipped towards the approaching emperor. Had the meeting been adjourned already? Or did the reunion spent more time than they had anticipated? Whatever it may be, lilac hues flickered over to the holding females. The vermillion royal raised an eyebrow at the peculiar sight. In addition, to Byleth’s confusion, her features had slightly darkened.

“Have I interrupted you both?”

“Ingrid was going to tell me something.”

“Oh, really?” Edelgard looked at the ex-Faerghus warrior. She sent a rather strong nod towards the blonde’s direction. “You may continue.”

“...I just wanted to say that I’m grateful for the Professor’s return.”

Elaboration was impossible at this point. The hand-holding connection severed by a gentle tug. Ingrid proceeded to place her hand on her metallic chest plate, face Edelgard, bowed to her highness, and promptly left the premise. This all occurred in less than ten seconds, and this entire process left Byleth baffled.

“Guess it’s just us two,” the professor pronounced. “I didn’t even have a chance to say anything to Ingrid.”

Edelgard placed a hand on her hip. The darken features had eroded from her physical traits as she faintly smiled.

“Perhaps next time. Today may be too late, but tomorrow has yet to come.”

Edelgard is correct. There was always tomorrow. However, when taken into consideration of the raging war, the probability of surviving the next day drastically varies. Conflict naturally brings about pain and anguish. The victor solely winning from raw strength, tactical intelligence, and a sprinkle of luck. Anything could turn the tide of a single battle. The future is simply unpredictable.

‘ My students will be okay. I am here for them. ‘

Could this be false hope? She shook her head. Perhaps. Nevertheless, there was no use to possessing a pessimistic perspective. They were not only fighting for a cause under Edelgard von Hresvelg’s flag, but they were also fighting to survive. It’s that simple.

“!”

Byleth lurched forward.

“Professor!”

Had it not been for the petite axe-wielder, the ex-mercenary would have smacked her face flat on the pavement. The whole world was spinning round and round as if someone accelerated the planet. Byleth squinted her eyes, her fingers digging into Edelgard’s armored arms. Another dizzy spell had struck the unfortunate teacher. Although the abrupt effect rapidly diminished, the teal-haired struggled to right her posture with the introduction of a dull headache.

This is becoming more of a nuisance, and this is the first time her symptoms became evident to someone other than Sothis. What better way than to succumb before the ruler? The timing was impeccable!

Edelgard adjusted her hold, her eyes locked onto Byleth. “Do I need to bring you to the infirmary?”

“I’m fine, Edelgard,” the teacher loosened her strong grip. Navy hues rose to meet with the alumni’s lilac irises. “I’m just a little dizzy.”

“Are you sure? You don’t seem fine.”

“I’m sure.”

“Professor, I would rather you not push yourself too hard.”

“I said I’m fine.”

It was stern. Accompanied by a glare, no room was left for any counterbacks with her response. Though her smiles may be rare, her irritation is all the more rare. This caused the white-haired to open her eyes wide. When Byleth saw the wound she unintentionally inflicted upon Edelgard, the hunched professor hastily pulled the graduated student into a strong hug without hesitation. Whatever symptoms that had possessed her were shoved far back into the dusty parts of her skull.

“I’m sorry, Edelgard. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

Yes, the young lady was taken aback by the rough treatment. She had witnessed Byleth’s disapproval to other students and staff. Some battalion members were frozen on the spot when the female’s eyes narrowed to slits. The nickname “Ashen Demon” finally made perfect sense to the emperor. However, she had never been on the receiving end until now. What a surprise! But Edelgard is no fool. The female simply responded by briefly resting her face upon the woman’s shoulder. She understood where Byleth was coming from.

“That’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. Though this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“?”

When they separated, the emperor crossed her arms and studied Byleth with a level gaze.

“I… I just didn’t expect you to exhibit these strange symptoms.”

It almost sounds as if Edelgard knew what had plagued Byleth. This train of thought slashed through her mind as if it were melted butter. The seed of doubt had finally planted into the soil. Sothis words echoed in the back of her mind as a reminder of this particular Edelgard.

“Keep an eye on her. I felt like she is hiding something from us. She knows something and she’s not telling everything.”

Unlike the youngster who has much to learn about the battlefield, this older version had seen plenty in the past five years. What made it even more uncertain was the gap between the apparent takeover of Garreg Mach Monastery and last month. Suspicion began to clear bits of the enigmatic fog. Could she have known something about Byleth that she doesn’t?

As if the vermillion woman had read her mind, she shook her head.

“Unfortunately, I do not know what caused them. If only Linhardt were here, I would ask him… Perhaps Professor Hanneman might help instead.”

“I see.”

Looks like the small doubt she had on the older Edelgard vanished in a blink of an eye, the fog making its return. Byleth cursed herself for thinking of the emperor in that fashion. The presumed death status that had been bestowed to the teal-haired was by none other than Edelgard. Despite the proclamation, this ex-Black Eagle’s house leader, who had grieved for five long arduous years, impatiently waits for Byleth’s return.

The older woman chewed her lip. Edelgard had been waiting for an event that might have never came. How could Byleth see her that way?! It was almost as if the first whiplash wasn’t enough!

‘ Perhaps my symptoms are getting the best of me… ’

An awkward silence hung in the air. Though the two are close, there is a sense of distance between the two partners. Beads of sweat few out of their heads as they attempt to remedy the oddity. Their jaw would lower, but clamp shut. Rinse and repeat... It was all for naught. None of them would dare break the growing tension. The taller woman shifted her gaze to the royal figure.

‘ She also came back from the meeting… ’ Her fingers became agitated. Byleth had barely stomped on the desire to slap her own forehead. ‘ I really messed up. ’

Edelgard might have been tired. The fact that the ex-mercenary reacted negatively might have applied another layer of stress to the poor girl. Byleth pinched the bridge of her nose.

‘ Think, Byleth, think! ’

“...”

Another examination was conducted upon the royal figure. She had just returned from a tactical meeting with the other Black Eagle Strike Squad members… Knowing Hanneman, he would have rambled enough to put them to sleep had it not been for the fierce warfare. Then, a light bulb went off.

“Come, Edelgard,” Byleth extended her hand out. “I think it’s time you relax for a bit.”

The statement threw Edelgard into a loop. She blinked. Thereafter, the white-haired shook her head.

“I think I’ve relaxed plenty enough with you, Professor.”

That is true to an extent. Many tea party sessions were hosted, many shared meals for lunch, and there was even the occasional walk around the monastery as they chatted about unimportant topics. Fresh breath of air, it seems! Edelgard cannot call to mind if she had ever experienced these events after her instructor had vanished. Not that it mattered anyway. She has Byleth here and now, even if she is a little different. So long as Byleth was by her side, her heart could be put to rest.

Not bothering to argue with the lord, the teal-haired took ahold of Edelgard’s armored hand. The vermillion noble widens her eyes as Byleth faintly smiled.

“Nothing wrong with taking another evening off, don’t you think? The war may still go on, but that doesn’t mean you should overwork yourself.”

Right on the nail. As someone who had just preached to her professor about overworking, it appears that she has much to learn about the valuable trait. Edelgard felt the temperature rise from her head as she dragged her sight elsewhere.

“Should we have another tea time then?”

Byleth shook her head.

“I think a hot bath would be better.”

“Must we?”

“Yes.”

Edelgard didn’t even have a chance to reciprocate with a reaction. The sword-wielder easily pulled her out of the greenhouse. If anything, this might also ease the adverse effects on her mental state… and Byleth is willing to do just about anything to get rid of it.

Before long, they found themselves inside of the famous bath and sauna structure. It might have been a bit early for a dip in the hot water. The sun was still high up in the sky, barely any clouds shielding the alumni and professor from its harsh rays. However, everyone in the monastery has to thank the architect for constructing a building dedicated to the sauna and baths.

Located on the second story of the open monastery, soldiers and alumni happily splurged in the bath. Not only are there two open baths for both sex, there are also private sauna rooms for those wishing to sweat their stress away. It was the perfect short-term getaway. Nothing beats cleansing one's regrets and sins too, even if it is a temporary alleviation. Fortunately for the two, the only person present was Shamir.

“Hm? Isn’t it too early for a bath?”

The dark-haired archer questioned as she prepped for a sauna session. Towel over her shoulders, the naked woman bearing various scars sharply stared at the two warriors. (Though her presence seems intimidating, the effect seems to have diminished since the time she betrayed the Knights of Seiros.) Edelgard was busy stripping her armor and clothes in the background as the still-clothed Byleth responded.

“It’s good for relaxing.”

“Don’t stay there too long then. I don’t want to be picking up after your mess.”

Shamir motioned a hand in the air before entering into one of the eight empty sauna rooms. Now that the Dagda woman disappeared from their sight, this prompted the two to quickly enter the female’s open bath.

Regardless of the numerous times they’ve visited this place, they were always in awe of the spacious room. Buckets, soap bars, and shampoo dispensers were neatly organized and placed as if they were living in royalty. (The staff in charge of tidying did an excellent job!) Steam lazily floated in their surroundings. Humidity didn’t hold its punches as it began to tickle their nose. At least sensory adaptation came to their rescue before a sneezing fit becomes reality.

When they dipped their body in the warm water, they both collectively sighed at the same time. Byleth sunk her figure until the surface leveled to her lower neck. She briefly closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

“I needed this.” This cleared up her headaches and could easily prevent her dizziness for the next couple hours or so. She could get used to this. A drowsy episode began to roll its tape as the teal-haired stifled a yawn. “This is making me sleepy though.”

“You must be tired, my teacher.”

The sunken woman turned towards Edelgard. Edelgard had barely leaned against the short ledge, barely sinking into the shallow water. Her eyes were gazing into the distant aimlessly. As she mindlessly rifted through the liquid, the emperor muttered,

“It would do you no good to fall asleep here.”

Byleth chuckled. “Perhaps you can keep me entertained until we finish up here.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious.”

Edelgard finally whipped her head around. When she spotted that cheeky grin on the instructor, the alumni felt a pulse throb from the corner of her head. This Byleth… Was she always this sly? It has been far too long since she can recount her personality. Five years is too big of a gap. Under normal circumstances, the white-haired might be able to retain it. War, especially that in a stalemate with three nations, did a number on her memories. She crossed her arms and pursed her lips.

“Sometimes, I can’t even tell if you are being serious or not.”

What a jab! The ex-mercenary could not help but flash another smile at her direction.

“I like to think I am.”

“Professor!”

Another jab! This time, it was in the form of a splash! Warm water dripped from her disheveled teal hair ends. The instructor wiped her wet face with a single motion of her hand. A smirk followed afterward. She raised her hand.

“I think a retaliation is in order.”

Splashes after splashes came about. Soft giggles and chuckles emitted from the two Crest users. Although stoic on the outside, Byleth is known to have a little fun with her students; the nickname “Ashen Demon” would eventually be erased in due time.

Alas, playtime must come to an end. There was another reason as to why they visited the bathhouse; they had to wash up and scrub any unwanted materials from their skin. The two eventually volunteered to wash each other’s back. Teasing remarks and stories of their endeavors were exchanged during the wash. After tenderly caring and pampering the older woman, it was Edelgard’s turn to be treated like a queen.

“Those scars…”

Unlike the jagged lines that were strewn on the older woman’s body, there were lumps representing the successful healing of deep lacerations. Sides, back, and small parts of her arms… These hardly looked to be from battle. If anything, the epidermis had recovered its fibrous tissue a little too well. Byleth’s brows furrowed as she fleetingly brushed her fingertips over the sensitive bumps. Edelgard shuddered; her wet clumps of her white locks slowly slipped onto her professor’s moving hand. Without looking back, she answered,

“Hm? Oh, yes, they were from the time I was young… Though I have spoken to you about this, haven’t I?”

‘ She did? ’

Byleth can’t seem to recall. Once again, just like the battle against Rhea, Catherine, and other members from the Church of Seiros, she was back to drawing blank cards. How many times must this happen? A faint palpitation pulsed from behind her eyes, forcing the female to shut down further thoughts on the matter. If anything, she could always discuss it with Sothis once she crosses over.

“...I must’ve forgotten.”

“I see…”

A tinge of disappointment tainted her words. Nevertheless, Edelgard began to recall the times of her childhood. Traumatic past that no person, let alone a child, should be a part of were spoken. Details far too fine for a sane person’s eardrums were uttered. Inconceivable death tolls and experimentations for the sake of a Crest boiled Byleth’s blood. By the time her tale came to an end, a strong embrace entailed. Edelgard’s pupils stammered in place as she tried to look over her shoulder.

“P-Professor?”

“...”

Byleth had to hug her. She didn’t know the reason behind it, but hearing the history of Edelgard von Hresvelg made her chest ache. It was a potent ache that threatens to split apart her bony plate. The teacher buried her face into the moist shoulder blade.

“...I’m sorry.”

It was an unnatural articulation. Byleth’s words rarely wavered when it comes to delivery. She remains firm and full of conviction with each spoken dialogue. Today, at this moment, the older woman faintly croaked her apology.

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?”

“For your past life.” So much had been explained regarding the two Edelgards. It was no wonder why they refused to opt for a casual summer wear out in public. Even if an unbearable heat threatens to bestow a heat stroke, the females rejected the proposal for a simple attire. She tightened her hold on the girl, almost as if she would disappear any second now. “I would do anything to trade places with you.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but perhaps it is for the best that you did not endure what I have gone through,” Edelgard raised her scarred arm and placed a hand on top of Byleth’s head from behind. It looks as though the role has been reversed, the young female soothing the older. “The last thing I would want is to see my teacher suffer.”

Misery was her middle name, and she wouldn’t dare transfer it over to anyone, especially to her Byleth.

The tender, still moment had stretched for some time before Edelgard began to complain about the heat. This immediately prompted the professor to remove herself from her alumni.

Bath time was finally over. Still, the day was not over. By the time they dried their hair and body, were dressed in their attire, engaged in more banters, spoken to the staff in charge of the building, and reentered the outside world, the sun had settled to sunset. (Shamir had been long gone, which says something.)

Normally, Edelgard would have returned to her duty. As an emperor, spare time was scarce. Byleth wouldn’t allow that. This was a forced day-off from her professor, and the young axe-wielder understood her professor’s intention. Opposing Byleth would be equivalent to opposing an unbreakable wall. She’s certain that everyone, especially Ferdinand, must understand if they were to interrogate of her sudden absence. Besides, there was always room for Edelgard’s favorite activity: tea. She would never miss this when it came to the tactician.

They hosted the private party inside of Edelgard’s chamber in the second-floor dormitory. Tactical concepts and talk about the future often pops up in their conversation. Though Byleth knew that this was not her world, she could not help but be drawn in by the chosen topics. If she were to stay here with Lady Edelgard… the Edelgard that became an emperor, what would their future look like?

“I hope we can stay by each other’s side just like old times, my teacher.”

Like old times… Byleth could not help but slowly nod in response. As the moon eventually traded spot with the sun, so does the sleepy nature trade place with Byleth’s awakened status.

“I think it’s time I go.”

Byleth stretched her arms high up in the air. She now stood by the opened doorway, her yawns becoming a regular customer to her body. Though not much rest might be gained, the least she could do is hop back to her real world. Plenty of discussions must be held with the green-haired too; there was so much ground to cover.

Arms lowered back down to her sides, the professor’s eyes crinkled. She turned her back towards the vermillion royalty.

“Good-night, Edelgard. I will see you tomorrow—”

She felt a tug on her sleeve. One could easily mistaken that to be a child’s action. Unfortunately, it appears that the “child” in question is none other than Edelgard von Hresvelg. Those white gloves she casually wears pinched the dark overcoat and pulled her back. When Byleth glanced over her shoulder, she felt her brows rise. The young lady had a tiny bit of pink tinge fallen upon her cheeks. Head lowered, the white-haired mumbled,

“Could you… stay with me for tonight?”

“Is there something I need to do?”

“No, I… um… I sort of… have these nightmares…”

Nightmares… That’s right. Even back in her world, the younger Edelgard suffered from nightmares. Byleth’s thumbnail began to draw faint lines on her index tip. Unfortunately, the teacher was unable to eliminate the dreams that haunt the poor child. So, how could she say no to that request? It was also rare for a student to ask for a sleepover. The last time she had any, it was with Lysithea back in her world. That hardly counted as a stay as Byleth slept on the creaking chair, overwatching the sickly young girl.

Lilac eyes that yearn for comfort gripped her heart.

Byleth puffed carbon dioxide. She turned around and silently nodded. As if a script was played out, the older female soon found herself on the same mattress as the emperor.

She was not one to be undressed completely, but Edelgard finds comfort in sleeping without her clothes on. A blanket was draped over their bodies; a blessing that the professor did not have to unintentionally ogle at those peaks! She swallowed as her back rest on the cushion. Byleth made sure her navy hues were fixated on the decorated ceiling. Any distraction would be beneficial in this case, especially with regard to the abnormal temperature level flaring her cheeks.

Byleth could feel the heat radiating from her body warming her up underneath the covers. Despite the awkwardness with the emperor sleeping naked next to her, in which she never thought such a day like this would even occur, she finds Edelgard’s body heat rather comforting in a mysterious way. She expected that she would feel more awkward than this.

Edelgard shifted underneath the cover. From the corner of Byleth’s eyes, she spotted a dark piece of clothing peeks out from under the cover. Her curiosity was stroked. She turned to watch the white-haired student.

“You’re hugging a shirt?”

“...you could say that.”

The older female glanced over at the chair opposite of the closest wall. Her overcoat hung over the wooden furniture. Then, she reverted her attention to the ex-house leader. The Adrestian Empire’s noble brought the black piece of clothing close to her chest. (Again, Byleth is thankful for it hiding her fine breasts.) She looks like a small girl despite her age. A small, fragile girl twisted by the cruelty of fate… and right now, Edelgard looks as though she’s giddy about an upcoming field trip. The candlelights from the chandeliers barely shone those pink discolorations on the noble’s cheeks; the shadows flickered in time with the flames.

‘ Cute. ’

She wasn’t sure what took over her. It was as if Byleth’s body moved according to her instincts. She quietly turned over to face towards Edelgard. The emperor slowly looked up and made that peaceful eye contact with Byleth’s teal hues before looking away with reddened cheeks.

“Am I being too close?”

“...No, I… I prefer it like this, actually.”

She was being honest to Byleth, at least. The professor brought up her hand to tuck her bangs behind her ears before gently caressing her smooth cheeks.

This Edelgard before her... something about her was drawing Byleth towards her. She truly reminded Byleth of her radiant youthful Edelgard. Byleth wondered if she pushing too much and being too intimate with the emperor. She could imagine that Sothis would give her an earful lecture later. But she could face the consequences later. Right now, she gave Edelgard her full, undivided attention.

“I’ll chase all of those nightmares away.”

“You promise?”

“I will be here for you. Think of me in your dreams.”

“It sounds like you’re promoting yourself as a good luck charm.”

“I might be.”

Then, the emperor smiled.

That radiant glow from Edelgard…

That big grin from Edelgard…

Those words dripping with nectar from Edelgard…

She snuggled in closer towards Byleth’s chest and the professor’s hand unconsciously rubbed her arm to comfort the sleeping emperor, chasing away the nightmares. She fell asleep before Byleth could be as the professor was too busy evaluating the situation. The smile of the emperor engraved right into her very mind - that was the same radiant glow young Edelgard has. However, something was certainly off about it… something about that smile disturbed her.

‘ She’s smiling… but I feel like she’s smiling at someone else. ’

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alitheamateur · 6 years ago

Text

Pleasure for Pain

Characters: Tommy Conlon/Reader

Warnings: Mild pain kink. Mild sexual language. Mild sexual content. Mentions of injury. Fluff.

Word Count: 2,331

Summary: You decide to accompany Tommy for the morning jog he’s been hounding you about, but the plan backfires. You’re left in pain, and unable to finish the run, but the way Tommy tends to you is well worth the pain.

Tommy had begged that you finally join him for a morning jog through the hazy, day-breaking streets of the city. He wasn’t currently training for a specific match, but of course keeping his fitness in ample condition was a necessity in the profession of fighting. The May temperature had finally been inclining to the warmth you were fonder of, so you decided firmly you’d oblige your gym-rat husband, and join him for his daily run. He never tried to push the strict diet on you when he was trying to maintain weight, and you were never frowned upon for your very minimal amounts of exercise, so Tommy genuinely only wanted you to come with him solely for the extra quality time it meant with you.

Your kind gesture had so brutally backlashed on you however, and here you were, currently being piggy-backed up the front stoop of your shared, brick townhouse. A mile or so into the mapped-out route Tommy had specially scoped out for you so it would be a safer part of town, your natural-born, clumsy nature reared its ugly head. The toe of your gray sneakers caught a crumbled chunk of concrete on the sidewalk, causing your weak ankle to curl painfully. Thank the Holy Heavens you were able to save yourself from weightlessly tumbling face first into the asphalt, but the throbbing, instant swelling of your foot was enough to have you yelping.

Tommy insisted on carrying you the entire way back toward the direction of home, but you incessantly refused, and flagged down a taxi instead. However flattered you were by the man’s desire to always portray the role of your knight in rusty armor, you knew without question his shoulder couldn’t handle the 125 pound pressure of your weightless body for a distance such as that.

The cabby dropped the two of you off after a literal 3-minute lift to your street, and Tommy paid him with the fee, and a ‘thanks’. You carried you untied shoe, and sweating sock in one hand, and tossed both arms around those bullish, broad shoulders to brace yourself for the jarring up the brick steps.

“I’m gonna head upstairs, babe. You can put me down here. I wanna soak it in some Epsom salt so the swelling will go down.” You winced into the ear of his that was level with my mouth.

You had expected him to gently ease me from his back to the floor, but he instead began his march towards the upstairs bathtub with you strapped to him like a fleshy backpack. You tried earnestly to squirm from the clutch he had around your thighs locked around his lower abdomen, but his vice-like grip was impossible to escape.

“I don’t think so, Y/N. You ain’t puttin’ weight on that ankle for at least 24-hours. So, don’t even try t’ fight me on it, baby. Y’know you won’t win that argument.” Tommy sternly spoke, but you knew whole-heartedly he was only looking out for the woman he loved so fiercely.

He entered the dark doorway of the bathroom, flipping the switch for the light, and the ceiling heat you always turned on whenever you took your nightly bath. Your mate knew you were like a cat to heat source, and always promised one day the two of you would pack up and move away from the stark winters of Pittsburgh.

Tommy turned his back to the vanity, so your bottom was even with the cool countertop by the sink and you sat down, unlatching yourself from around his tattooed upper body. His profile revealed a crooked, toothless smile after you kissed the back of his neck before parting. A silent, admiring gesture of appreciation for taking such good care of you. Tommy never treated you as a lesser, or a helpless little bird by any matter. But, when he vowed to protect you til’ death do you part, the man meant it with every haunting fiber in his body.

He pulled your other shoe from the back of your heel and tossed it into the hallway near the mate you had dropped there, then stepped over to unleash a steaming spout of the water into the wide bathtub. Without explanation he exited, but you knew he was retrieving the jug of medicinal salt from the hall linen closet. What you weren’t expecting, was for him to return missing the dri-fit white tee he was wearing when he’d left your sight just seconds ago.

“Well, get those sweaty clothes off, baby. I don’t know how ya’ expect me t’ give ya’ a hot bath wearin’ those.”

Tommy sprinkled a considerable amount of the lavender scented contents into the filling tub, and turned to see you trying to wiggle from the confines of your running shorts without putting weight on the injured limb. Your tongue was stuck from the corner of your lips in concentration, and he quickly jumped to your side offering the steady space of his broad chest to help keep your balance.

“Tom, I’ve been sweating, and I don’t want you this close after my deodorant has definitely worn off,” you uselessly protested.

Not that you didn’t feel one-million percent secure in your relationship with the devilishly handsome individual, but the two of you were only newly-weds of 7 months, and an official couple of 2 years. You didn’t want to ruin this foolish vision he had that you were flawlessly beautiful in every way just yet.

“Y/N, I think I’ve been on toppa you under much sweatier circumstances. I can handle it.” He winked, then effortlessly swooped you into his cradling arms so he could submerse your naked body in the perfectly heated water.

You shifted your long ponytail into a bun so your hair wouldn’t get wet just yet, and Tommy folded a towel to cover the coolness of the tile tub behind your back. His bulky body was knelt on the plush shower mat covering the floor, and you relaxed back to drink in the way this brooding, masculine male was practically worshipping at your feet. A hum of pleasure rolled from inside your chest as he squeezed the aromatic water from a washcloth over your chest. Tommy’s eyes attentively followed the pathway of the erratic droplets sliding down your breasts and puddling into your navel.

“How’s ‘at, hm? Feel good, Y/N?” Your spouse turned apparently part-time servant cooed, brushing a stray line of hair away from the perspiration collecting on your cheek due the sauna-like bathroom.

The painful shocks from your ankle were shooting up your leg like an electric surge, but you wouldn’t dare hinder the sensual relaxation of this perfect moment. You kept a watchful gaze on Tommy as he leaned to pick up the bottle of soap standing on a shelf in the shower, squeezing a heavy amount into the opened cloth in his thick palm.

“I can do that, silly. Just sit with me until I’m done, and I’ll be perfectly happy, ok?” You shifted to raise, offering he hand over the bodywash.

“Ah, ah, ah. I’m the doc, and you’re the patient. I know what’s best, girl.”

He was getting off on this little role play, and who were you to stifle his fun. So, you returned to your original half-laying position and did as you were told. Tommy lathered the contents of his hands, and easily grabbed your arm resting on the tubs side, to begin lightly cleansing your limb. You closed your eyes, relishing in the concoction of the warm water, the velvety bubbling soap, and his firm, calloused hands attending to your entire body. Your nipples grew to a slight point under his touch, and he gave a hearty squeeze to both your breasts as he washed.

“C’mon, gorgeous. Gimme that foot, n’ I promise to go easy,” Tommy coddled, insisting you let him take on your bruising ankle next.

The water sloshed and waved as you lifted your leg from under the water, and Tommy made a foamy path from your hip, down your thigh, then to your foot, holding the weight of your leg for you. He kissed the bone of your ankle with featherlike lips before cautiously washing it. His hair had begun to dampen and drip with heat, so he pushed the strands from his eyes, and you felt an overwhelming tense between your legs.

Your lids had once again closed over your green eyes in shameless enjoyment, so Tommy new he had the element of surprise on his side. The feminine shape of your thick thighs were slightly gaped, allowing him to slide to your opening with little struggle, and you instantly shook from your lax state to find him biting back a smile between his teeth.

“Gotta make sure we get ya’ allllll clean, baby. Can’t leave anythin’ out.” He whispered wantonly as he began tickling the tiny bulb above your entrance.

After turning the bottle of soap upside down into his hand once more, Tommy indeed began washing the half-shaved area at the center of your body. The raw, intimate moment ensuing erased momentarily the hurt from your injury, and you let his motions take you over fully. His strong middle finger entered you as he came closer to kiss your panting lips. He breathed in the hotness of your breath for a brief second before massaging over your tongue with his own. He knew how to make this last, and draw out your release, and he knew exactly how to touch you and send you over the edge in an embarrassing, short number of minutes. Tommy knew your body, as he knew his own. And you could tell by his touch, along with the curling stretch of his finger prodding at that tucked away spot inside you, that it would not be long.

You shook and writhed in the water causing puddles to splash onto the bathroom floor, and no doubt all over Tommy. A mess you were making regretfully for him to have to mop up considering your wounded state, but you couldn’t control your twitching reaction from his intense onslaught. He slid an open palm over the womanly length of your neck as your head tilted in desire, and traced downward to your collarbone, and the peak of your pink, aroused nipples.

“Tommy, more. Please, finish me. I’m so… I can feel it. It’s so close.” The way he could use his bedroom talents to transform you into a begging slag was an enigma you’d yet to solve, and you had no desire to even try.

His veined forearm was no doubt bleeding from your trimmed nails latching onto him, in an attempt to still the contorted flails of your approaching release. But you knew there’d be no complaints on his end, due to the slight kink he had for a little pain here and there when it came to your sexual endeavors together.

“Mmmmm… Baby girl wants to come, does she? I think I got just what she’s lookin’ for then.” The grunts vibrating from his chest, along with you own squeaks of approval filled the room with an X-rated soundtrack that you’d play on repeat in your head when Tommy was gone for a fight that work just wouldn’t let you away for.

When he added his thumb to the attack, you sensed his closing move approaching so you opened your eyes to meet his shadow-blue ones staring back at you, under brows furrowing with passion. Tommy had made it very clear early on that he wanted to look you square in the eyes as he made you come, so he could watch the orgasm pulse through your dilated pupils. And from that conversation on, you had done just that for him. Obliging to his particular desires was the least you could do, considering the plethora of ways he had to satisfy you.

With a wave of warmth raging in your gut, and the growing sensitivity of your clit under the pad of his circling thumb, a scream of his name crawled from the back of your throat. His motions strategically slowed, careful not to deprive you of a single millisecond of orgasmic release, and you lazily gathered your composure.

“How’s ‘at ankle now?” He smiled crudely, dabbing the splashed bath water from his chest with the towel he had waiting by the sink.

“At this very second? I don’t feel a thing.” You moaned with choppy, uneasy breaths.

You were carelessly sailing on such a wave of adrenaline and oxytocin that the lingering sprain of your ankle was wholly absent in that moment. Although you instantly began to dread to commute from the bathroom to the bedroom, knowing the pain would only come rushing back like a mighty hurricane.

“Happy to oblige, baby. Let’s jus’ hope these pain meds do the job as well as I did then.”

He cradled you under the armpits as you lifted from the cooling water and draped the fuzzy bath towel around your shivering shoulders. Your hair had mistakenly gone unwashed in the exchange, but you’d take care of that particular matter later.

Tommy made sure your feet never even touched the ground the remainder of the evening. Settling you back into bed even though it was barely noon-time, he taped an ice-pack to your foot then left your side only to take a shower of his own before joining you for a lazy, Summer Saturday. He elevated your leg to minimalize the swelling, and then wrapped you with a cloth bandage. Thankfully, he was well-equipped to take care of matters as such, due to nursing many of his own ailments caused in the cage. He waited on you hand-and-foot unreservedly, even stuffing his healthy-toned body with some of your favorite ice cream he had treated you to.

“From ‘ere on out, maybe we should keep your workouts in the bedroom, baby. Leave the jogging to me, ay’?”

TAGS: @eap1935

#tommy conlon #tomhardy #tommy conlon fanfic #fanfic #tomhardyfan #tommy riordan #oneshot #tom hardy #original #anrm1 #tomhardyfanfic #tomhardyfanfiction

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