#I hate this dull sluggish feeling

[amerasdreams]

1st car accident in 12 years....

😡

I was tired bc I woke up too early. And like I said before, if I wake up early the meds don't wear off as fast after I wake up. I thought it wasn't too early and I've driven with the meds before (sleeping pill before bed so you'd think it had been worn off by now...) but my mind was worse today for some reason.Slow. maybe I woke up earlier than I thought. 😞

I went to some pets right away this morning and wrote there so i didn't have to go back and forth. Perhaps stayed all day except i didn't have food there and i needed to make a rhubarb pie for my sister I'm going to visit tomorrow for the 1st time since she had her baby. I went to the nearest store (except the other main one... I thought this one was more likely to have rhubarb) and there was a parking space right on the corner (this is a small parking lot... I should've parked across the street) and I thought I had a lot of space.

apparently not.

Scraaaaape.

I hate this. I wanted never to cause a car accident again. I thought i was past this. But whatever is going on with me.... my mind was not shape enough to park -- too complicated of a movement. :(.

Being too hot and lack of food doesn't help. This weather -- snow and then sun.... it was lunch time and i hadn't had lunch yet. That was probably the thing that made it go over the edge. My mind just. Phases out if i don't eat. Like, if im doing anything I can't really do it if I didn't have food yet, even if I haven't missed lunch by an hour. I hate this

We exchanged details. At least it was just a smallish scrape

But my insurance will go up 😡 cant afford anything....

At least I ound some rhubarb.

And I got some lunch bc I needed it or I might have another car accident. A really good wrap (food coop which is a little more expensive but this was $2 off)

Now I have to somehow have enough energy to make the pie. And go back to the pets for supper.......

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Fifteen

Steve’s left bloody smears on the tiles, but the bleeding does seem to have turned a little more sluggish; he’s too frightened now to pull his sock away, he’s pretty sure it’s stuck to the wounds where the blood has started to crust over.

From the floor, Steve manages to reach up for the phone, it rings nearly a dozen times, but Steve persists. He knows Hopper will assume it’s an emergency.

Steve hates doing this, but he definitely can’t drive. Just the thought of making it to the car on his own makes him cringe, and the dull, thudding pain is radiating out to the rest of his foot.

“Hopper.”

“Hop. Sorry. I think I need some help.”

“On my way.”

The doctor frowns at Steve spectacularly, “a raccoon?”

“I know, wild right?”

“So that means he definitely needs a tetanus,” Hopper says unhelpfully from where he’s perched on the other side of the treatment room. He’s got a coffee in a Styrofoam cup and an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

Steve hisses as the doctor uses some saline to loosen the sock, peeling it away from the wound, “I’ll give you something to numb the area, and then it will need some stitches. An x-ray might-”

“Nah,” Steve interjects, “stitch me up, I need to get home.”

The doctor has that look on her face again. From the other side of the room, Hopper sighs, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Steve can hear El and Eddie from where he’s standing in the kitchen. El’s been teaching him stuff again; today she’s taught him the ABC song. They rush through when they get to the ‘LMNOP’ part, making Steve smile.

“Okay Steve, we’re ready!” El shouts for him from the next room, and Steve goes in.

The furniture's been moved out of the way, Eddie lying on his back in the middle of the room. He’s laying on a white sheet, the long point of his tale stark black against the material. Next to his hip, there’s a pair of legs. They stand perfectly fine on their own, disembodied, rounds of flat pale skin on top, where they end at the thighs.

Eddie looks over smiling, “oh good, you’ve brought it.”

Steve looks down. In his hand he’s holding a saw.

Steve wakes, flailing. He’s gasping for air, trying to orientate himself. Panicking.

He’s sitting. It takes him a few confused seconds, but it all comes flooding back. Fuck, his neck hurts, and his back.

Just a dream he thinks on repeat to himself. Just a dream just a dream just a dream.

His foot. His foot is still up on the coffee table, “Steve, come on, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“What,” he manages to croak out.

“Here, drink this,” Robin hands him a half glass of tepid water, Steve downs it, “you had a nightmare.”

There’s a towel and a bag of peas draped over Steve’s ankle; trying to cool the area. Keep the swelling down, or whatever. The peas are melted now, the bag sagging in either direction with the weight of the mush inside.

The sight of it makes a sob catch in Steve’s chest, it comes out in a huge shudder, and Steve’s only vaguely worried he’ll never be able to walk the frozen isle in the store again. That he will cry spontaneously every time someone offers him a pear.

“When did you get here?”

“Mom dropped me off, Hopper wanted someone to watch you. He’s going to go check on El.”

Steve’s head feels muzzy. Too much has happened. They didn’t get home until the early hours, and Steve’s blinking in the full light of day that’s streaming into the lounge. “Where is he now?”

“Back yard.”

That takes a second to process, “no.”

Steve pulls his foot down, wobbling as he stands, leaving the towel and peas abandoned, “Steve, hang on.”

The dressing and stitches feel like they’re pulling as Steve takes a few tentative steps, the whole end of his foot feels like it’s burning, Steve moves until he can see Hopper; he can see him from the back, he’s smoking and looking down into the pool.

“Robs, get him away from there, please. Please.”

“Okay, okay,” she says, holding her hands out like she’s dealing with a skittish animal, she goes to the door, opening it and calling, “Hopper, he’s up!”

Hopper comes back in, dropping the end of his cigarette and stamping it out with his boot on his way in, “kid, are you sure he went into the pool?”

The implication of Hopper's question has Steve’s moving before he can really think about it, Robin calling after him that he’s got nothing on his feet, that it’s cold out. Steve ignores her. He has to walk funny, keeping all his weight on his heel on the left foot, but he makes it work. He sees why Hoppers asking; the water of the pool is opaque white.

It looks like the whole thing is filled with milk.

Hopper leaves to go and check on El. Steve’s glad, he did cause Hopper to have to leave her in the middle of the night, and that’s not fair on El, she might be worried.

Steve’s had maybe a couple of hours sleep on the couch, passing out when they got back from hospital. “You don’t have to do that,” he tells Robin; she’s scrubbing at the bloody smears Steve’s left on the kitchen tile.

“It’s fine, and it’s not like you’re in any condition to do it. What the fuck Steve, Hopper said he bit off two toes??”

Steve looks down at where the dressing’s covering his foot, “yeah.” Robin sits back on her haunches, bloody rag in hand, glaring. “He said that...if he eats Demogorgon, then that’s what he becomes. And if he eats Demodog, he becomes one of those so…”

“So you let him eat some of you instead? Because that’s the sane response-”

“I love him, Robs.”

She sighs, “I figured.”

Robin spends most of the day. She talks him into eating some toast; he balks at the thought of soup. Steve takes his pain killers and his antibiotics under Robins close supervision. They have the TV on, and Steve sleeps more.

She tells him to come away when he spends too much time staring out of the window.

Robin has to go that evening; she only does because Steve swears on everything she can think of that he will be fine. He will eat some eggs. He will take his pills. He’s not a complete invalid.

Robin leaves him after what is probably a ten minute hug, and a promise that she will sell Keith on Steve’s 'family emergency.'

The eggs are sitting heavy in Steve’s stomach when he hobbles outside. He managed to get a sock on over his dressing, but couldn’t bare the thought of anything else pressing on his wound, so he goes out like that. Just in socks.

He has a coat on at least, and takes the blanket, knocking snow off a pool lounger and moving it to the edge of the pool so he can sit with his feet up, wrapped in the blanket. The water still hasn’t frozen; but it is darker than it was. It’s turned a sort of pale mucky brown, like someone's mixed some dirt in.

Or chocolate milk.

Steve sits, and he waits, and he cries quietly.

Eventually the cold gets too much, and he heads back inside to try and sleep on the couch.

Steve stares blankly at the unlit Christmas tree, and considers dragging the thing outside and setting fucking fire to it.

He hasn’t cried since he woke up, which is a new current record, and he doesn’t understand where the anger has come from...but he thinks he might prefer it. It’s not fair. Nothing about this is fair, and it fills Steve with a rage he doesn’t think he’s ever experienced before.

Hopper sits opposite Steve, leaning forward, his hands dangling loose between his knees, and Steve knows that this is Hoppers ‘I’m trying to be kind, or sympathetic, or understanding face,’ Steve also knows he’s not going to like whatever is about to come out of Hopper's mouth and he’s already angry about it.

“Kid, I really think we should drain the pool.”

“No.”

Hopper takes a deep breath, “son,” and that one word fills Steve with a rage so complete he feels utterly still. Utterly calm. He’s completely empty, in that moment, except for the rage, “if we don’t, his body will rot into the water, and if you want to be able to bury him? Then-”

“Out.”

“-what?”

“Out,” Steve stands, and he speaks calmly and levelly, “get out of my house. Right now.”

Hopper doesn’t stand, he spreads his hands in a non threatening gesture, “El says she’s can’t feel him, kid, he’s gone-”

“Get the fuck out of my house!” Steve screams at him, suddenly full to brimming, his hears his pounding, breaths sharp, “I said get out!”

Hopper sighs. He looks at Steve with...pity on his face, but he gets up, and he leaves.

The water is so dark now it looks nearly black. Murky and shitty. There are black, choking vines growing up the inside of the tiles; clinging to the sides of the pool. Some of them are long enough to creep up over the edge, like The Upside Down is bleeding into Hawkins again. Steve is reminded viscerally of Barb Holland, and he hates it.

The phone is ringing. Steve ignores it until it stops.

It makes him itchy, ignoring the phone. It’s too ingrained in him that something could be wrong. It’s an emergency. The kids might need him.

It starts ringing again; Steve answers it this time, but only as a preventative measure. If he doesn’t answer it, whoever it is might show up, and Steve would really rather not right now.

“Hey, Steve.” Robs is uncharacteristically quiet. Reserved. “So...it’s Christmas tomorrow and, I know you said you didn’t want to come for the day but...what about in the evening? Just for a little bit?” She asks, hopefully. “Mom says we can save you some leftovers, you know.”

“Yeah...yeah, that’s really kind and everything Rob...” Steve trails off scrubbing at his face. He’s got a fair bit of stubble going on, and he only showered this morning because even he could pick up on the fact that he stank.

She sighs quietly, “have you been eating? Taking your meds?”

“I...yeah. Some. And finished the antibiotics.”

“Good. That’s good. You want me to come over then?”

“Uhm. No. No that’s fine you, you should have a nice Christmas with your family, okay? We can talk after.”

“Steve…”

“I know, Robs, I know, but I’ll be fine,” Steve tells her with a confidence he doesn’t feel.

“Okay, well, I’ll call tomorrow. Love you, Dingus.”

“Love you too Birdie.”

There are thick black vines growing up the legs of Steve’s pool chair; he ignores them. He climbs into position, wrapping himself in his blanket. He has a beer, his pills are finished now, so he can’t see the harm.

“I had a shower Eds, sure you’re pleased to hear that. Took the dressing off my foot, and it looks fine, you didn’t hurt me, not really.” Steve tacks on, “not ow,” out of habit.

Steve sips his beer, pulling the blanket tighter around his legs, and not thinking about Eddie's tail doing the same, “I’m supposed to have an appointment to get the stitches out, but it’s not until like the twenty seventh, or something, you know, everything being shut for Christmas. Which is tomorrow, by the way.”

Steve sighs, “anyway, I probably won’t go, it really doesn’t look so bad now, I think I could get them out with nail scissors and some tweezers, so I might just do that.”

Steve sips his beer, watching the laden pale clouds scud along overhead, “I think it might snow again, that’d be nice, right? White Christmas and all that stuff.”

Steve sighs again, and quietly admits, “I think you would have really liked Christmas. You get like, gifts and stuff-”

There’s a frantic splash in the pool, Steve’s up as quick as he can, fighting with his blanket, his beer bottle falling, forgotten, and rolling away on the tiles, getting caught on a vine.

Steve’s flooded with adrenaline, heart beating so fast, he doesn't register the chill as he scrambles up, stepping to the edge of the pool.

Eddie’s on the steps, he’s covered in so much slime and shit from the pool it's hard to see him, but Steve doesn’t care how dirty it is, he’s knee deep and helping to haul Eddie out the rest of the way.

He has no hair; but he does have legs, and he takes a stumbled step with Steve before collapsing to the ground. He can’t breathe, he’s bent over, on his hands and knees, choking. Steve’s lifeguard first aid training kicks in before he can really think about it; fueled by adrenaline, he braces Eddie with an arm about his middle, then using the palm of his hand he delivers one hard upward blow between Eddie’s shoulder blades.

Eddie splutters, but there’s nothing, so Steve does it again. Suddenly, like a seal has been broken, Eddie coughs up what might be nearly a pint of fluid, yellow and green and streaked with pink blood, it splatters loudly on the ground.

Eddie drags in a huge breath; it might be the most beautiful sound Steve’s ever heard.

They collapse down again, Eddie shivering like crazy, his teeth chattering; Steve grabs his blanket, covering Eddie. He’s naked and covered in gross shit, completely hairless, and has long gangly legs. Steve doesn’t pay attention to any of it really. Just Eddie. Eddie’s here.

He smells fucking awful, but Steve doesn’t care, Steve bundles him up and pulls him close, “Eddie, are you okay?”

Eddie blinks, his eyes crusted with gack from the pool, pink and puffy and sore looking around the lids, the whites bloodshot to fuck, his voice a raspy mess, the words broken by how violently his teeth are chattering, “Eddidie good bad.”

Steve bursts into tears.

Part Seventeen

[misafiryanki]

Rain & crowd - Bakugo x reader

The rain pelted down in relentless sheets, drumming on the rooftops and turning the streets into rivers of glistening asphalt. It wasn’t a gentle drizzle but a relentless downpour that seemed to come out of nowhere.

Bakugo Katsuki hated crowds. He hated the suffocating press of bodies, the chaotic noise, and the sense of entrapment it brought. But more than that, Bakugo hated the rain. It made him feel sluggish. The way it soaked into his skin and made his clothes cling to him - it grated on his nerves like nothing else.

You had known him for years. The explosive temper, the relentless drive, the fierce independence - all hallmarks of the person he was. But today, something was different. You could see it in the way his eyes darted through the crowd, the subtle but unmistakable clench of his jaw.

You tried to keep up with his brisk pace, your heart pounding not just from the exertion but from the tension radiating off him.

"Bakugo, slow down," you called out, struggling to match his long strides.

He barely acknowledged you, his focus entirely on the sea of people around him. The air was thick with the scent of street food and the sounds of laughter and music.

“Kacchan, wait up!” you called, struggling to keep your umbrella from turning inside out as the wind picked up.

He didn’t stop, didn’t even look back, but you knew he heard you. He always did.

The plan had been simple - pick up a few supplies from the market and head back. But with the weather turning and the crowds growing thicker, it was becoming a nightmare. You knew Bakugo was on edge, his dislike for crowds almost as intense as his hatred for rain.

When you finally caught up to him, he was standing at the edge of the market, eyes scanning the bustling scene with a mixture of frustration and disdain. His usually fiery gaze was clouded, as if the weather had seeped into his very soul, dulling the spark.

“Bakugo,” you said gently, touching his arm.

He flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. “We can come back another time. It’s not worth it. The weather is awful."

He shook his head, jaw set stubbornly. “No. We’re here. Let’s just get this over with.”

You sighed, knowing that arguing would get you nowhere.

Together, you plunged into the throng, the noise and movement pressing in from all sides.

Bakugo’s posture was tense, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. Without warning, he stopped, causing you to nearly collide with his back. He turned to you, his eyes sharp and wild. "Oi, move up," he muttered, his voice low and strained.

You stayed close to him.

As the rain began to fall harder, the market became a sea of umbrellas, each one a tiny barrier separating you from the rest of the world. It was almost claustrophobic, the way the colors blurred together, the way the sounds of chatter and rain mixed into a cacophony that set your teeth on edge.

Bakugo’s hand brushed against yours, and you felt the tension in his fingers. Without thinking, you reached out and took his hand in yours. His grip was strong, almost painful, but you didn’t let go.

“Just to stay together,” you informed him casually, hoping he wouldn’t push your hand away.

And for a moment, you thought he might. His pride was a formidable barrier, one that rarely allowed for weakness or vulnerability. But today something gave way. He held onto your hand, his grip firm but steady.

You moved through the market like this, hand in hand, navigating the stalls and the people with a newfound sense of purpose.

Bakugo’s palm was rough, calloused from countless battles and relentless training. It was a warrior’s hand, one that had faced the world head-on and come out scarred. Holding it felt like holding onto a live wire, the intensity of his suppressed energy almost tangible.

It wasn’t until you reached a quieter corner, away from the main throng, that Bakugo finally spoke. “I hate this,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I hate the rain, and I hate these damn fucking crowds.”

You squeezed his hand, offering silent support. “I know. Me too."

He looked at you then, and you saw the storm in his eyes. It was a tempest of emotions, raw and unfiltered, a rare glimpse into the heart of someone who had spent so long building walls around himself.

“Thanks,” he uttered quietly, the word almost lost in the sound of the rain as he brushed the top of your palm with his calloused thumb.

But you heard it, and it was enough. "No problem."

Together, you made your way back to the dorm, the rain and the crowd fading into the background. And throughout the entire journey, he never let go of your hand.

[aismoker]

The Birth of Smokerman

It is a dark night. Rain is gushing down from the heavens. Defeated, Superman, the paragon of good, lies on the streets, gasping for air. As his vision blurs and darkens, he wonders whether this would be the end.

Only half an hour before, he had heard a cry for help. Trusting on his super powers and believing thay this would be a routine job, he had immediately gone to where he thought he was needed. The cry had come from inside a warehouse. He bursted in, but he didn't know it was a trap. As soon as he had gone through the door, it had slammed shut and within a few seconds the whole warehouse had filled up with smoke. Normally, he wouldn't be bothered by it, but this smoke was different. It dulled his senses and made him feel sluggish. It was hard to breathe. It was as if the smoke that entered his lungs, didn't leave and was building up in his lungs, leaving less and less space for air. He tried to open the door. Eventually he succeeded, but it seemed to late. He stumbled out of the warehouse and fell on the ground, slowly suffocating. The last thing he saw before he passed out were two figures, clad in red and white, coming out of the warehouse.

They knelt besides the unconsciousness superhero. "The plan worked. Let's get him to headquarters."

When Superman came by, he noticed he was strapped in some kind of device. He struggled to get free, but to no avail. He still felt so weak. He heard a cold, raspy, laugh. He looked up. He hadn't noticed, that he wasn't alone. In front of him stood a man in a dark suit, flanked by two similar looking men. They were all smoking cigarettes. He noticed then the sign behind the men: Marlboro. He had fought the company for many years, but they always had gotten away. And now he was in the belly of the beast, strapped and powerless...

The sinister looking figure laughed again and said then in a deep raspy voice: "I am glad to see that you are with us again, Mr. .... Man. My men found you lying in the streets, unconscious. They brought you in and we have taken care of you." The man wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was lying. He took a drag of his cigarette and stepped closer to the superhero. "Since you are here, I want to discuss a... business proposal with you, Mr. Man. We are looking for a man with your... qualities." The smoke punctuated every word he said. Superman coughs. "Working for you? Never!" The man takes a deep drag again and blows out the smoke, right into the superhero's face. He chuckles. "We will see that Mr. Man. We have a century of experience in swaying men to our ways and our scientists just finished creating an extra potent version of our secret formula... especially designed for the likes of you. I have no doubt that we can... convince you to work for us." He turns around and snaps his fingers. One of the henchman pushes a button. Superman looks up and sees how a helmet is lowered on his head. He struggles, but he cannot get out of straps. If he only had his powers...

Once the helmet completely covers his head, he feels it tighten around his neck. He hears a hissing sound and he feels the air being sucked out. With all his might, Superman tries to break free, but to no avail. He sees one of the men coming towards him. He attaches some tubes to the mask. Air returns. Superman gratefully takes deep breathes. But then another button got pushed. The visor darkens. Superman feels trapped inside the helmet. He feels like he is burried alive. He loses all sense of time. He doesn't know how long he is standing there, but then suddenly the visor of the helmet starts to glow brightly red. Superman is blinded for a second. Aftwr some time he is used to the light and he sees that it is the Marlboro logo. Atbthe same time, he notices that the air he breathes in is getting increasingly smokier. He hates it. The smoke makes him even weaker. But he can't do anything against it. The only thing he can do, is to stare at the logo. He feels so much resentment against it.

Suddenly, his ears are filled with white noise. Wothin it, he hears a voice that sounds similar to his, but deeper and raspier.

"I AM SMOKERMAN... I SURRENDER TO MARLBORO... I AM PART OF MARLBORO... I NEED TO SMOKE... THERE IS NO GOOD... THERE IS NO EVIL... THERE IS JUST MARLBORO... ALL MEN MUST SMOKE... I AM SMOKERMAN... MARLBORO IS MY CAUSE... I DON'T THINK... SMOKING IS PLEASURE... I OBEY MARLBORO... MARLBORO IS MY MASTER... I AM SMOKERMAN... I NEED TO SMOKE... I AM ONE WITH MARLBORO... MARLBORO MAKES ME A MAN... I AM NOTHING WITHOUT MARLBORO... SMOKING IS GOOD... SMOKING MAKES ME POWERFUL... I AM SMOKERMAN..."

The voice kept repeating the same phrases over and over. Then, all of a sudden, the audio was cut off and the visor turned black again. The smoke was replaced with normal air again. Superman was thrown into complete darkness again. If the situation he was in hadn't been so serious, Superman would have laughed about it. Did they really think they could break him with this? Was this all they got?

But Superman didn't know that this was just the beginning... Hours turned into days. Days turned into weeks. He stood there. Strapped in. Sometimes asleep, sometimes awake, but always in darkness... in nothingness. The only moments that were different were when the visor lit up, the smoke filled the helmet and the voice was speaking to him. Slowly but surely he started to enjoy those moments. It were the only moments he could sense anything.

He didn't notice it, but as time went on, he started to change. The moments in nothingness started to weigh heavier and heavier upon him. It felt like he was dead. The only moments he felt alive wqs when the visor lit up. The resentment he fwlt prior towards Marlboro started to dissipate. The smoke didn't bother him anymore, in fact he started to like it. And the voice in his ears started to work their way deeper and deeper into his mind. After a few of those sessions, it was all he could think of after the session had ended. It felt like it was an anchor that kept him sane. He didn't agree with the message, but he couldn't not think about the words that were said to him.

Weeks turned into months and Superman succumbed more and more to the program. He started to crave the sessions. He needed them. He realized that this was partially because he needed to smoke. He had gotten addicted to it. But he didn't care anymore. The smoke made him feel alive. Marlboro made him feel alive.

And as time progressed, that was not the only thing he felt. It was like his body started to adapt. No longer he felt weak when he was forced to breathe in the smoke. He started to feel stronger with every lungful of smoke, more virile. The smoke was giving him pleasure he hadn't felt ever before. He felt his cock rise whenever he smelled the smoke. He had heard men talking about it, but he had never experienced it before... and it felt even better than he could have imagined. The voice had been right all along. Marlboro was making him into a man. It was all he could think of in the period of darkness. But he hadn't shot his load yet though. Each time he felt his load building up in his balls, the session was at its end. It frustrated him, he wanted a release. He needed it! It was all he could think of during the periods of nothingness. If the sessions would take just a bit longer, then he would be able to fel the ultimate pleasure... Or the problem with him? The voice said, that Marlboro is pleasure, so maybe he should give into it completely?

As his mind got twisted up more and more, Superman was getting closer and closer towards a climax. Each session got more and more intense, but ended always in failure and more frustration. He started to feel a burning hate against himself, Superman. A real man would be able to cum, but he didn't. Driven crazy by lust, he was getting closer to the point that he was willing to give himself up...

Until one day, months after he got captured...

"I AM SMOKERMAN... I SURRENDER TO MARLBORO... I AM PART OF MARLBORO... I NEED TO SMOKE... THERE IS NO GOOD... THERE IS NO EVIL... THERE IS JUST MARLBORO... ALL MEN MUST SMOKE... I AM SMOKERMAN... MARLBORO IS MY CAUSE... I DON'T THINK... SMOKING IS PLEASURE... I OBEY MARLBORO... MARLBORO IS MY MASTER... I AM SMOKERMAN... I NEED TO SMOKE... I AM ONE WITH MARLBORO... MARLBORO MAKES ME A MAN... I AM NOTHING WITHOUT MARLBORO... SMOKING IS GOOD... SMOKING MAKES ME POWERFUL... I AM SMOKERMAN..."

This time, it didn't come from the helmet, it came from the superhero's lips. As he completely surrendered to the program, he was finally able to shoot his load. Superman started to spasm. His cock teared his suit apart. Gulf after gulf of steaming hot cum was being released. White at first, but as he gave in more and more to the pleasure, itbecame darker and darker until it was pitch black. The seed kept coming and coming and covered the superhero completely. It was like he was being covered by molten lava, but it didn't hurt him. In fact, it fwlt like it was burning away his former life. The steel contraption the suoerheronjad been in for months was affected differently. Wherever the cum touched the metal, it was like it the metal butned away, like it had come in contact with acid. Soon the suoerhero, still releasing volley after volley of tar-like seed, was free. He fell on the ground. After a while he stopped cumming.

It was silent. The superhero lay there, unconscious, in a pool of his own balck cum. He didn't move. It was as if he was dead...

After an hour, hwkever, life seemed to return in him. He rose up out of the black puddle. He looked around and he saw a table with a carton of Marlboro Reds on it. Within a blink of an eye, he stood besides the table and had a vigarette in his mouth. He used his laser eyes to light the cigarette. He took such a deep drag, that the whole cigarette was gone in one drag. He took the next cigarette. He needed more. After he smoked half the carton in that way, he started to feel better. He turned around and saw that there was a mirror hanging next to the table. He walked towards it. He looked at himself and he grinned. Superman was gone. In his place stood Smokerman. He liked what he saw. So much more muscular, so much more masculine. And all thanks to Marlboro... As he lit the next cigarette, he noticed that his eues didn't turn back to blue. He looked closer in the mirror. His eyes had turned red, like there was a fire in it. In the center of them, burned into his pupils was the Marlboro logo. He smirked. Yes, from now on he was part of Marlboro.

He was Smokerman.

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

EPILOGUE

It is a dark night. Rain is gushing from the heavens. On top of a building stands a dark figure. He smokes a cigarette. The city below is in turmoil. The sudden disappearance of the beloved sulerhero had caused chaos everywhere. Street gangs roamed the streets and the police, who had trusted for years on the help of the superhero was incapable to do anything in the sudden rise in crime.

The man on the rooftop heard the cries for help from everywhere in the city. They cried for Superman. But he didn't care. Suoerman was dead, reborn as Smokerman. And Smokerman didn't care about good or evil. He had bigger concerns. Everywhere in the city were men who didn't know the pleasure Marlboro brings. But that was about to change. Soon everyone would know it.

[telleroftime]

"Vessel" doesn't seem like a word to me anymore... anyways Sukuna is very OOC me thinks, but happy comfort means everything to me ,,,

Warnings: Mentions of the general effects of depression; implied eating disorder, insomnia, self deprecating thoughts, self sabotage. (Nothing caused by Sukuna)

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where, for one reason or another, you are forced to consume some of his fingers. Maybe it was a dare your friends threw at you or maybe it was an order from the the Jujutsu higher ups. Either way, you consume them. Of course, Sukuna thinks you're going to be an easy person to take over and control. A measly human? You're not that strong and yet your soul is just a little too hard to overpower.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where he tries to sabotage you. One way or another, he wishes to weaken you. He will take over your body... or so he thinks. He tries to mess with your sleep but you already had it pretty bad. He tries to mess with your eating but you already weren't doing too great. Nothing works because you were already sabotaging yourself before Sukuna came into the picture.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where your soul still isn't giving in and he cannot afford to switch vessels. No one had caught his eye as worthy enough and with the fact that he can't even force control onto you, he has no way of switching anyway. So now he has to desperately try and keep you functioning. At least long enough for a solid plan to form.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where he forces you to eat and drink and sleep because he'd be damned if your body gives out on him. He'll try and tease you into it, but when he notices that doesn't work he'd come up with some sort of excuse. He's not a liar, he's never been a liar, and yet he's barking out a "I need to eat too" like he's a desperately starved dog. "Let me have a taste," "cook me something," "there's two of us so eat it." It's so demeaning for him to have to say that, but you will live for his sake.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where he originally made your dreams a living hell, suffering is his forte after all, but now he feels your body weaken. He can feel your hazy mind, your sluggish movement, your tired eyes. He doesn't like it. He'll stop the nightmares if it means you won't break.

"Oi, wretch, sleep if you're so tired. I ain't dragging this body to bed for you." // "You'll just torment me so what's the point?" // "Would you rather I tuck you in? Sleep."

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where he's been watching you long enough he ends up picking up when your thoughts end up bothering you. He hates it. The way you just stop and freeze? He finds it such a troublesome 'weakness' and so incredibly dull. Your misery isn't caused by him and he has to watch it regardless? He nags you so much that you have no time to think of anything negative.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where he keeps on using the excuse of needing an adequate host. "I have no use for someone so weak, so eat/drink/breathe to not disappoint me". In reality, he has started to fret over you. He's worried, especially as the only place he can truly look you eye to eyes is when he personally drags you into his soul. Where you see him through a reflection of yourself.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where he finally finds a different body. Someone far more befitting his needs. Someone far more adequate to house his soul. Not you. It happens right at the moment that you let him in too. Where the eventual banter you two share is far better than the memory of his terror. You know you shouldn't, but have grown to like his company. Which is what allows him to finally take over your body and switch.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where the King of Curses has taken a liking to you and comes back to stay, at least for a little while.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where your head feels suddenly so... empty. He's gone and you know it and everything is just so quiet. Unbearably so. You probably would have gone back on your bad habits too if it weren't for him. Your soul was alone, yes, but he didn't leave. He came back, like a dog to its owner.

Sukuna x Vessel!Reader where he's so much firmer now. It was one thing having his voice in your head but now you see him in front of you, a body other than yours. His gaze is firm and intense as if even beyond your mind he can still hear your thoughts. Bringing you food, tossing you things. Indifferent in everything but his actions.

[moonspirit]

Annie developing Agoraphobia due to the crystal?

Canon!

(Hi anon!)

The way I see it, for the years that follow after the Rumbling, Annie never really gets good sleep. One possibility is that she sleeps like 12 hours straight but it still leaves her feeling exhausted and drained when she wakes up; the other is that she remains for the most part a low-grade insomniac in that she does sleep, but never enough.

The reason I started with sleep is because they will be infested with nightmares at least for some years to come. Nightmares about being trapped in the crystal, the sensations that drove her insane during those years, the suffocation, the unbearable feeling of being frozen and immobile, phantom "touches" that made her believe for a fleeting second that she was free before crashing back down to the realization that she wasn't yet, the hunger, the thirst, the screaming voices, the dull noises, the sluggish consciousness... everything.

Everything still exists, in her nightmares.

So post-rumbling Annie can't handle rooms without windows. She can't handle teeming crowds where she can't see around her thanks to her short height and instead suffocates with the stale air of a hundred yelling humans. Annie can't stay in a closed room for too long and at some point always escapes for fresh open air. Annie can't handle too much silence or too much noise, both frighten her equally.

She also hates elevators.

There are things they all struggle with post-rumbling, this is one that I definitely personally believe as canon for Annie haha xD

[clownery-and-fuckery]

Drabble!!!!! I hate the heat

They trudged back to the ship, weary and sweaty. Wrecker's groans of how tired he was had faded into something more quiet, more subdued.

Tech began to feel similar, the stifled heat worse with his helmet still firmly on his head. The others had long since shed as much of their armour as they could, sweat rolling down their faces.

Even Echo complained about the warmth.

Once the cool recycled air of the Marauder hit them, they breathed a breath of relief, until Hunter remembered why they had to backtrack, and whirled around on their recently saved brother, Crosshair.

Tech winced, feeling the argument rising, and he glanced to Omega, who pressed herself into his damp leg, clinging to the sweaty material.

He cleared his throat. "Come along, Miss Omega," Tech encouraged, voice oddly stilted. "I need to check the hull for damage."

The young girl nodded, following her brother outside. He grabbed his toolbox on the way, and took his time once he returned to the blazing sunlight.

He felt sluggish as he examined the hull, forgetting himself and his company as his head began to bother him, a piercing pain ringing just at the front of his forehead.

His hands fumbled, the tool he thought he had a good grip on slipping from his sweat slicked palm, falling with a dull thump to the grass.

Omega watched it, then looked cautiously up at her brother. "Tech?" She called.

His usual quick response was delayed, and he looked over too quickly. He had to swallow a wave of world spinning nausea, feeling his stomach churn and throat close.

His head began to pound, brain telling him something, but he couldn't understand it.

He must have been staring, because Omega called for him again. "Yes?" He replied, voice oddly stuffed and sounding too loud to his own ear.

His sister hesitated. "You were just.. staring," She looked worried. "For a few minutes– are you okay? Should I go get Hunter?"

Hunter, who was still yelling at Crosshair even though the beatings of the sun was more severe than their enemies? No- no, their older brother was far too busy to deal with Tech's simple staring problem—

"Tech?" Omega's voice was louder. "You're not listening to me- I'm going to get someone."

He opened his mouth to tell her no, stay put, I am fine—

He blinked heavily once, twice, and found his knees buckling under the harsh heat of the day.

"Tech?!" Omega's voice was faraway, concerning but the blissful numbness he felt was a lovely contrast from the horrid churn of his gut or the swirl of vomit lodged at the base of his throat.

He heard another full thump as his helmeted head collided roughly with the forest floor, but nothing more as his eyes drifted shut.

[joannasteez]

"im with you" - installment two

featured characters: mother's milk & female reader. warnings: alcohol usage (misuse) and angst. MM being his supportive, caring self. mutual pining? (kinda) authors note: this second installment has been sitting in my drafts since the release of season three, so over a year maybe? i don't see myself progressing the story (sorry?) but i was tired of seeing this in the drafts. so i give it to you all who wish to read it!

You hate 'The Reserve', not just for its sordid means of molding into fruition false delusions of grandeur, but because it is also a reflection. A mirror, smudged and stained, bitter callousness webbing sharply from the heart of it, mangling its way to the furthest reaches, but a mirror all the same. And when the sun wanes low into the horizon, that bombastic need for liquid comfort livening up the bar, in the solace of yourself you say 'I am not like these people; degenerate drunks and reckless hedonist, bleeding the poison of a heartless raging machine who thinks them too low to even consider their existence. I am not like the super-abled, I am better'. The hatred is beautiful enough in those times, consistent enough that it waters the dust and forms thought into palpable word. Then where is this mantra now? As the weeks grow colder, air nipping sporadic bites into the skin, lethargy soothing something still and lukewarm into your veins.

Grief is loud, 'where is your mantra now?', and your need for comfort is as bombastic as theres.

On this unsteady line of desire, here must be where the attraction falls short for him. Clips its wings, falling from on high.

'He sees you', the brandy says, auburn and taunting. 'He pity's you'.

All those years ago when the ache was new, splitting raw and lethal at your chest, you're almost sure it was pity that drew him in, that made him linger. It had to be, or that's what the sluggish, drunken part of you thinks, the part that takes comfort in dark hard spirits and makes you believe all the untrue shit that stains the foreverness of wayward esteem and memory. But sipping from the bottle is good, it's easy, feeling like a drizzle of fresh rain on the skin. The burn goes dull after while, when the sky bleeds something angry and orange,  leaving just the smooth glide down the path of your throat, and when your eyes shut to escape the welling of tears, you hear that everlasting crunch of metal.

It's a hard piercing, that cringing screech and scratch of metal etching into itself, the friction tearing into flesh and bone, and just mere seconds remain before the face that shares your own fades into something distant and lifeless.

Twins, a true phenomenon, and yet as you stare into the bottle, it all feels false and unnatural, like retribution. Something beautiful and different, worth no more to the state than a cover up story and a check for $75,000.

She was worth more. She deserved more, true justice, and yet here you are wasting away, your stomach a pool of brandy.

Like clockwork your phone vibrates. 'Here comes the pity', you think.

--How you holdin' up?

His wonder is a grey text bubble, nothing more than routine and after several years still its consistent. Maybe that's why desire has etched into your skin so, a slow gradual drag into nerve, entangled to the pulse of your veins, because at least some semblance of him cares. Even if it is all just obligation, when others stopped their award wining performances of sympathy, he'd still roll around in the early cool of October asking 'Are you holding up?', and 'How are you doing?'

The tears and liquor screw your senses well, fingers slipping over some of the right keys and missing others. It takes a while to gather thought, and even then it's driven by lies and poor motor skills.

--Mi fi.

--Im fie.

--Fire*.

--Fuk Im fine*.

--Fuck*.

The disappointment is palpable, heavy on the tongue and an uncomfortable warmth to the skin. You know it, can picture the way those brows of his pull together, mouth screwed and on the verge of disgusted. Well fuck him, if he thinks you care, he isn't the one in pain, drowning in perpetual heartbreak. Saturated to the bone with it really and its ripping at you slow and dreadful, a vicious tear of tissue and vessel. And God-- but...but doesn't he know? No, no, no he has to, he's suffered similar... but it's not the same... but it is, you stress to yourself, it has to be... but it isn't, and the tears taste more salty as they come. An aged bitterness that makes you wince.

--... are you drunk?

You keep him suspended, seconds, minutes even.

--No

--A but,, Im ok.

--A bit but Im ok*.

He's quick to reply.

--Where are you?

He waits, with a staling patience just at the top floor of the flatiron building, where the city bustles and groans, exhausted and restless. In just a few measly minutes, still nerve goes erratic with impatience and then comes the hammering of his pulse.

You're drunk and alone, drowning in the memory of shitty circumstance. His chest aches in that familiarity-- Harlem and a blazing summer sun, the hard blow of barely cool air, a child's excitement and then the coming in of doom, Soldier Boy, and then the swooshing in and fatal crunch of metal-- the ache a vicious sting. Growing nails make slight indents in his skin, fingers coming into his palm, to ball and harden, to feel and never to forget.

He was lonely then, just a wild vengeance to keep him company.

Marvin moves before he can think, leaves, turns the key in his ignition and joins the hard rush of the city before resolution melts loose and hesitant.

Your Brooklyn apartment is old, as old as the house he loved destroyed by the hurling in of a benz, and as he breathes, alleviating the hard brick of tension in his shoulders, he understands why he's here. Why-- in the most inconveniencing of times-- he thinks about you. Why desire, a fervent stream in his blood, has become more ungovernable by the day. You are new but familiar. Soft and alluring but recognizable to the bone, a reflection of pain and survival that wholly scares him and excites him just the same.

When the door opens, it's the petulant embrace that catches him first, the bottle of brandy nestled in your palm, but the smell curls about the air bitter and heavy, unsullied by shame. Even in the most dismal affair, your eyes are blood-shot, daring him to go beyond whatever is shy and lingering, a plead to make the pain go away. To call out the itching twitch in his skin by name and validate its presence.

"What?", you start, feeling his eyes. The stony weight. "You're not gonna wish me happy birthday?"

"You're a mess".

You'd waited for this, hoped for it even, to have the burn and the break of desire collapse against you. For it to scorch flesh and that unrelenting part of the heart that says 'yes, i want him, need him', but it never comes. There is no fracture, even when he tears you open with concerned eyes, just the unreconcilable truth that if you are a mess, royally fucked up and drunk out of your mind, that you do not want to be. Not when or where he can see. Because there is no middle, no point at which allure and brokenness meet in a charming enough compromise... right? So this must be judgement then, 'you're a mess', the knocking in of the gavel.

The quiver to your lip is fragile. You are fragile. "If you're here to judge, you can fuck off".

The lone tear you give makes his heart squeeze. Maybe he shouldn't have led so strong, so exacting.  

He brushes in anyways, like a piece of him belongs here and steals the bottle from your fingers. Palms growing idle now, fearful, balling and releasing, grasping at air --like your whole being-- grasping at everything, anything and gaining nothing. Nothing but the soreness of muscle once bent about glass fighting for strength, for the will to straighten. All there is, is the leaning in of silence, as he cracks the windows for a fresh breeze, a hard press that leaves you scorching and loose with a raw bare boned awareness. The mantle of your belly churning and awakened with a sullen impatience to hear his words, the charge of his thoughts.

Wont he do it now?

"Just say it already", knotting pain in your throat leaving your urgency dry. Brittle. "Whatever straight laced bullshit speech you got about effective coping, and-and-and pain... and whatever the fuck".  The new air is chilling, makes the grate of your voice wane and shiver. "Just say it".

He's next to you, sinking into the couch, and it's the closest he's ever been. "What's the point of preachin' shit you don't practice".

"Drinking isn't effective coping but tearing through the city, through the damn country, offing supes left and right with Butcher is?"

You were both wrong, but so terribly right. The through-line of your lives, just narrowly escaping death, broken already but always seeming still to be on the precipice of breaking.

For some time there's nothing, no word or deed, and then, there's everything. A delirious unearthing, barbarous and desperate. 'Look at me, understand me, please', fragile, on the borders of begging. "I never meant to drink so much, it-it just happened I-", your tongue goes lax and dry from temporary thoughtlessness or the swimming and draining of liquor in your veins, you aren't sure. "I don't even like the taste but June she... she made it a thing. Our thing".

You look to him, and see through the blur of your vision, the forming together of intent and attention. No crease of pity, just tenderness and patience, without blame. Just understanding.

And then it's here, nostalgia, a wistful coming together again of memory. "My father liked to have his taste every now and then y'know... a little sip just to feel some shit I guess", you start. A finger pulling at and curling into another. "So he'd hide little bottles of brandy around the house. A stash here, stash there, but he'd always end up forgetting. He had shitty memory that way... still does", the knot in your throat grew, forming a choking sensation. "But June would find them  and re-stash them, so when our birthday came around we'd sip and get shitfaced together".

You can feel the build, a hard rushing in, the levee soon to break. "We both hated the taste, but we were doing stupid shit together and thats all that mattered".

She comes clearly in your minds eye, a replica yet different. Glassy eyes dazzled by the soft burning away of innocence. The liquor is strong on her tongue, makes her touch something tight to the skin, a holding on to that bites but comforts all the same, and the air is pungent. Rife with rebellion. In the shared bedroom of an old family owned Brooklyn Brownstone, the world opens, teems founded and un-conforming with the blazing of this single moment. Oh sister, my sister. She was your mirror, your opposite. Everything. "She was just here my whole life and now she's gone. What thing am I supposed to have that I can touch, that-that-that I can feel other than this, other than our thing".

Something in Marvin wonders, if he reaches out, forms you with his hands, will you take him in or stretch away? Will you break? Shatter into a fragmented loathing because he is not her. And there is the curt twitching in his finger, he feigns for the answer.

"You never told me that".

You laugh, mirthless and ironic. "I never told anybody because I feel like a fucking joke. I speech those kids to death almost every damn day, about being present and making room, growing in grief and look at me." Your head feels full and heavy, a sharp pounding meeting just at the forefront of your skull. "I didn't even have the fight to do anything about it. They took her away from me and I just let that shit fade. I let her go Marvin, me".

He pulls at your chin softly to face him, smearing away a lonely rolling tear. From here, just inches away, everything about him is tender and warm. But if you lean further into him, will he pull you in?, or will the comfort of his touch fall away?

It travels instead, holding firm at your shoulders. His eyes settling light and easy.

"You wanna go all Rambo with the shit, and find out what happened, I'm with you 100%, but what happened to June isn't on you, its not".

The brandy on your tongue wears old, the solace of it going stale.

'I'm with you'

His embrace is a furnace, a delicate purging. A new opening of the world.

"Thank you Marvin".

[silvercap]

if you’re taking prompt requests 👀 leon and either shaky from starvation or staggering from exhaustion? dealer’s choice hehe

Sure ☺️ (Prompts)

He's almost to the Evac point when his knees give out, spilling Leon limply across the dirt as a strangled, pathetic noise squeaks out from his throat and his gun falls somewhere at his side. His legs tremble and cramp from days of running and crouching, muscles spent and pushed even further past their limits by the limping, staggering steps he's been forced to rely on for the past several hours. His injured ankle screams at him in the absence of stimulation, a ragged seed of pain blossoming into something excruciating now that Leon isn't pushing through it to make himself move. He groans, a pitiful sound. So this is what's become of the great Leon S. Kennedy---sprawled in the dirt half a mile from the rendezvous point, and too weak to even pull himself upright again.

There's blood still soaking his chest and thigh where BOW claws and shrapnel, respectively, had dug into the soft, unprotected flesh with violent force. Leon coughs, feeling the pang of smaller wounds across his body that only seem amplified by the hollowness in his gut, days without food or supplies only making the sluggish exhaustion more insistent to drag him down to the dirt and never let him go. He'd lost his pack on the very first day. Typical. He'd make a joke if laughing didn't feel impossible.

Something buzzes in his ear, short and sharp, and Leon stifles a whine.

"Come in, Kennedy," an unfamiliar voice says, the man he knows is meant to pick him up. They've never met before today, but Hunnigan had sent him once Leon finally got his comms working again, so Leon's pretty sure he'd be able to trust the man. He makes a sound halfway between an angry cry and a sob. He'll never make it to the evacuation point to see if it's true. "Kennedy, we are landing now, do you copy? We don't see you anywhere; over."

Trembling fingers trip clumsily up to his ear, the little button clicking as Leon lets his eyes fall closed. The cool dirt is nice on his cheek. " 's 'cause I'm not there," he slurs with an empty laugh, dampness forming under his eyelids. "Promise I tried. I really did."

There's a brief silence.

"Kennedy, what's your status? I don't understand; over."

Leon laughs, the sound closer to whimpering. Maybe he did have the energy after all. "I'm not gonna make it. Jus' go home, see your family," he rasps, hating the dullness of his own voice. He always knew he'd go out this way. It shouldn't be as much of a shock as it is, but he can't help but admit how frustratingly close he'd been to surviving another impossible mission. At least he made a good run of it.

"Kennedy, what's your status?" the voice repeats. "Are you in need of medical assistance?"

"Yes. No." Leon sighs. "I don't know. Why do you care?"

The DSO never supports him on missions, he knows that. It's cruel of them to pretend that they would, dangling medical intervention in front of him like a carrot on a stick.

"Where are you?"

"Half a mile out." Leon swallows. "I won't make it."

There's more buzzing, a voice in his ear, but Leon doesn't pay it any mind. He lets his hand slump to the ground, fingers curling weakly in the dirt. Maybe if he...

He pulls himself forward by his nails, then again, and again. It hurts. Everything hurts, but he can't... he won't just die here alone. The thought puts a lump in his throat and he sobs explosively, dragging himself forward inch by inch. He knows he won't make it; it's stupid to try.

He keeps moving.

Time blurs, blood mixing with dirt where his broken fingernails claw at rocky ground, until a sudden shadow falls over him. Leon whimpers on a particularly rough patch, and two sets of hands slide under his body, lifting him upright. The world swims, and Leon blinks. The face of a young woman hovers over him, her strong body hauling him upright despite the fact that his legs are too weak to support his weight.

"We've got you, Agent Kennedy," she says softly. "We're going to get you out of here, okay?"

Another person pushes into his right side, careful of the wounds over his chest as they take the rest of his weight in strong arms. Leon doesn't understand. "I don't understand."

"Hunnigan sent us. We're getting you out of here, okay? Damn standard procedure---we know how much you've done for all of us."

"Let's get you some help," the other person says, voice husky. Leon doesn't recognize it either, tired brain still confused by their support. He didn't know he'd done anything for anyone at all. "Just a little bit farther, man."

Leon laughs deliriously, unable to do anything else.

[rosuuu]

Beyond the Music Room- Chapter 6: Academia White

TWST Idol AU x Reader (Twisted Idolland)

CW- Epel curses once (1), Vil being angsty kinda?, Yuu is a separate character from [name] (Yuuken & Yuuka), (Y/N) has been changed to [name]

WC-

The crunch of snow. the background noise of useless, meaningless chatter. And the crisp smell of the apple scented perfume they had been gifted so long ago.

This was [name]’s bleak and dull routine. Completed with smiles that never quite met their eyes. The uniform they wore, the scarf they donned it was all usual. The only think unusual was that person’s absence

It was one of those days. The kind of day where you’re always too cold but too hot simultaneously. It’s an uncomfortable sort of humid day where you can’t help but feel the weather align with your ‘darker’ thoughts.

These days are the result of an already irritable individual and an unfortunate coincidence. [name] hated these days most of all however. When you convince yourself you’ll be fine and some as simple as the weather ruins that. It’s one of those horrible days that overstimulate your very soul.

Y/n let a sigh escape their lips as they walked side by side with their ‘friends’. They weren’t as close to them as they were with Epel but they were all [name] had left at this point. They thought that they’d better be grateful for at least this much.

Regardless they just couldn’t wait to go home. A horrible thought with the realization that they were only just on their way to school. It was unbearable, they felt utterly drained and if they could just shut their eyes for a moment they felt as if they would wake up hours later. And though an oh-so tempting idea they had to get to school.

Opting for a long drawn out blink they observed the cold, brisk wind tossle uncomfortably with their hair. Before opening they’re eyes once more they confined walking a bit. They’d don’t this sort of thing multiple times so why now did they bump into something.

Forcing their eyes to open they gazed up at the obstacle only to be met by a tall man wearing a uniform.

“Oh, I’m sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Ah it’s alright-“

“Hey hurry up we’re gonna be late at this point Enma!”

“[name]! Hurry up we’re running behind already!”

Letting a drawn out sigh escape from their lips [name] turned to face the man again.

“That’s me, I’ll see you around I guess.”

Without a second to waste they turned from the man and lightly jogged to catch up with whoever had called for them. they still felt indifferent about their feelings and hated it. Indifference was a disgusting feeling to them at the moment. But they’d need to endure it no matter how they felt.

Be it due to current events or just the fatigue. And not to get cynical but it was the opposite of love after all. Even so [name] knew that regardless of what they were thinking they had things to do. The wake up call they experienced from bumping into someone somehow became energy to at least make it to 3:00.

Back between the man and the person who had called for him a conversation ensured

“Was that them?”

The man turned towards the voice before wordlessly confirming the question.

“Well it seems like was have our work cut out for us then, huh.” The girl turned towards [name]’s retreating form. Shifting her wight to her left leg and placing her gloved hands on her slender waist.

“I suppose we do, Yuuka” The man replied calmly before turning and advancing in the same direction [name] had previously gone.

“Come on the headmaster must already be anticipating our arrival.”

——

“I’ll see you after class, [name]!” One of names friends called out towards them. Name was required to meet with their Physics teacher, Miss Anna this morning instead of attending their regular Language Arts class with their friends.

[Name] turned and replied, a faint smile gracing their lips “You too, Staris”

Diverging from the path they had formerly walked. The sluggish student dragged themselves to their locker straining their memories to remember their combination and slamming the narrow walls open. Hyper focused eyes scan the walls in dissarray and can’t help but gaze upon one specific section.

Clad with tape sticky tack and magnets like a stationary war zone were printed off Polaroids of a life now discarded. A life they should of abandoned long ago but still so desperately held onto. This was too much, this needed to end when would such a wretched day conclude.

With misplaced fervor the door is hastily slammed shut as they once again, turn their back on their precious past.

Confirming the time on the clock mounted on the wall the drained student decided on their next move.

It was a uncomfortable morning and they had to be in class soon however AP Physics didn’t exactly sound appealing on an empty stomach.

letting out yet another sigh their feet turned in the position of the cafeteria.

—

With their newly purchased Apple juice in their left hand as well as a cookie baggie secured to the outside of the chilled bottle with their pointer finger the student grabbed the door handle and twisted it open just as the bell had rang.

“Nice of you to join us, Name”

Shifting their focus to the voice that had spoken beyond the now ajar door they’re eyes land on the three individuals standing before the class. First of all was The ever-present Miss Anna.

Miss Anna (short for Anastasia) is [name]’s kind but Stern Physics teachers. She has medium length red hair that was commonly secured with a bow. She wore a white blouse with a green ribbon (to match the one in her hair) as well as a dark grey skirt.

“But of course, pleasure’s mine” The student strained their smile as they uttered their reply. It wasn’t that they didn’t like Miss Anna it was just that they were particularly drained today a fact they couldn’t seem to stress enough.

As Miss Anna replied to [name]’s words, the students eyes were elsewhere. With eyes averted towards the 2 individuals standing beside Miss Anna they conducted their observations.

The guy was kind of bulky and seems to be some kind of athlete, he had an undercut with dark hair and an fairly large frame that would tower over that person especially. He wore some kind of uniform that although familiar to [name] they were unable to pinpoint from where. They also noticed that this was the same man they had previously bumped into

The girl beside him was unfamiliar to name though. they could only assume that she was the one who’s voice had called for him earlier by the name ‘Enma’. The girl was about an inch or two shorter than the man. She was slender but still relatively built. She was rocking a pixie bob haircut with onyx black hair as well as a few peircing and an uniform that matched her companion’s.

Despite their appearances the guy seems to be kind enough while the Girl reminds me in a way as a sly fox.

Just as [name] had finished their (thorough) investigation Miss Anna noticed their focus. “Oh I’ve almost forgotten, These two beside me are none other than Enma Yuuken and Yuuka Hirasaka.” The teacher finished.

[Name] paused those 2 names were definitely ones they’d heard of before but they were unable to pinpoint from where. It was a similar case with the uniforms they were wearing and [name] was convinced on their relation.

Miss Anna answered their questions almost as quickly as they had manifested in [name]’s mind.

“They’re in charge of all of TWST Entertainment’s Exchange Events, In fact, it’s the reason I called for you this morning I’m sure you’ve figured out what this is about already!”

But [name] hadn’t pieced together what was going on so Instead they just stood still and stared at their teacher and their silence resonated through the empty classroom

“Well you did apply didn’t you?” Miss Anna’s words were accompanied by her nervous laughter.

“Excuse me?” [name]’s voice shook slightly at the Teacher’s words

—

The boys dull violet eyes fixated on the illuminated screen in front of him. He leaned his head against the cool surface of the table, resuming his activity. Epel’s slightly calloused fingers (result of many gruelling hours of dance practice) absentmindedly swiping to the left every so often. As a new image would appear for him to focus on he would once more let a sigh out.

More and more the the tension grew between his uncomfortable position against the desk and the emotional turmoil he was experiencing. How foolish he had been. After all those years he couldn’t understand how this was a reasonable end to all their time together. Once again adjusting his position the boys finger slipped up double tapping on the pictures he was previously observing.

“Ahhhh shit…”

The space of the dark room was not familiar. Nothing in this place was. And as such he had adopted this horrible habit of skipping practice every so often he felt overwhelmed. Switching apps and closing out of ten Magicam application he moved onto veiw his phone albums. The boy continued scrolling and he reminisced on memories that once held priority over him. As his tired frame scanned the screen a faint smile reached his face before a kind slam interrupted his thoughts

“H-huh!”

As quickly as the purple haired boy could utter his confusing the click of heels resonated through the room. The sound Epel had become familiar with despite the short amount of time he’d been acquainted with the perpetrator. The click continued for a few more paces before they paused and long, manicured fingers forcefully parted the curtains

“Ah, it’s light?” Epel’s shocked form sprang up at the intrusion of the sunrise dyed illumination

“Epel, dear what are you doing in here, and goodness what happened to you? Rook and I have been looking everywhere!”

The voice that had became a thorn in Epel’s side belonged to none other than that of Vil. Vil Schoenheit who viewed vanity above all else. Above emotions or friendships and perhaps over his own feelings. Though it was hard to blame him, his surname meaning beautiful had carved his path for him long before he was born. Epel knew of this but his apprehension was still present

With long strides Vil efficiently made his way towards Epel. Grabbing onto the shorter male’s upper arm and pulling him upwards. Epel groaned as his sore muscles stretched beyond what he had allowed recently as Vil ignored his yelps as usual. With Epel now on his feet Vil wasted no time with dragging Epel towards the doorway.

“ We’re running a bit behind schedule now, we the choreographers added a few new changes to the choreo so we must learn that immediately.”

“Listen Vil I’m really not in the mood right no-“

The petite boy was abruptly cut off when perfectly managed hands rushed to cup (squish) Epel’s cheeks side to side to preform an inspection. Epel’s under eyes were baggy and raw a result of his fustrated rubbing of the tender skin. His hair was a bit messy from his constant tossing through his feel hours of rest and his uniform wrinkled beyond a margin that Vil would have allowed

“To the seven, you could carry our merchandise in the bags under your eyes. Your hair is unkept and frankly lazy. Are you even using the skincare we bought!?” Vil ranted desperately trying to get through to Epel.

Vil’s calculative eyes observed Epel's form with with scrutiny, he knew he was not mistaken with the overwhelming potential he saw in the younger boy but honing such potential proved difficult. The more he stared at Epel the more flaws he found. Blame it on his compulsive perfectionism but he couldn't help that think that he had mistaken such a spark. As it is Epel's current form was not suited for a member of Pomefiore.

Vil’s words were always vain and blunt. His image was perfect and clean the splitting image of what many would regard as perfection. The same perfection that was expected of Epel now. that spark these people had seen in This only made Epel’s that had caused his departure from a simpler, dare he say better life. All these factors only made Epel’s already apparent irritation grow.

“God what is wrong with you people!” Epel’s voice resonated throughout the otherwise quiet room and throughout the halls beyond it before either of them could think. “It’s always ‘dance practice at 6’ or ‘vocal training at 2’ can’t I catch a damn break or something!?” Epel harshly ripped himself away from Vil’s grasp.

Epel was sure he meant his words. That he knew of course that these were truly his feelings. However he was also certain his execution was affected by the adrenaline brought forth from his emotions currently pumping through his veins. The boy winced at his harsh execution of words preparing himself for another of Vil’s infamous scoldings. Perhaps this one would be about his blatant ignorance of his ettiquite lessons. Though such a response didn’t come.

Instead the Queen of beauty slowly stepped back, clearly taken aback by Epel’s words. Vil watched silently as Epel walked towards the desk he was previously at and harshly sat down wood scrapping against words in an irksome sound. “Care to leave me alone now?” Epel’s voice slightly quivered as he experienced the loss of adrenaline.

Vil let a silent exhale escape his glossed lips slowly but confidently moving to lean against the window sill beside Epel’s claimed desk. With his long form leaning back stabilized by his arms Vil’s stared and observed the small dust particles swaying through the air. His eyes taking in the beauty of the skylight displaying the early morning riding sun’s display. Before opening his mouth once more and steadily confessing his thoughts.

“I know how you feel, Epel.” Vil’s words came as a shock to Epel. And furthermore, I’m fully aware that I’m nothing than that of a tyrant striving for perfection in your eyes.” Vil paused raising on of his hands up in front of his eyes obscuring the bright light and shining upon his hands instead. The tragedy spoke again. “But let me ask you Epel, what choice do I have at this point?” Epel could’ve sworn he recognized a look of regret in Vil’s eyes. Accompanied by the glassy look that Epel could easily pinpoint.

The blonde closed his eyes and the opened them once more. With each and every motion he could veiw upon a glimpse of his old self, filled to the brim with happiness and youth. Dropping his hand to rest in his lap Vil slightly lowered his gaze before glancing at Epel with a defeated look on his face. As the window light graced the side of his head before he spoke again.

“Epel, I have sacrificed so much of my life for this dream of mine. A dream so faraway I find it difficult to place. So even if you have to grit your teeth in anger at me. I see a light inside of you, And I’m sure that they saw it too.” Vil slightly gestured to Epel’s phone and the youth straightened up.

“Vil-“

“As idols we must become the guiding light that makes our fans look at us fondly. Regardless of what happens and how we feel we’re forced to keep it up and I know it’s not easy when you start. But even so. I ask of you Epel, to find your smile and become someone who the fans will look at fondly, If you could do that much than my wish could too be granted. And if not for the fans or even that of my wish than do it for yourself, as well as your own dreams and ambitions.”

“And If that’s not enough; think of that person that you gaze at so fondly. And do it for them”

—

“But what exchange event? And more importantly I don’t remember signing up for anything like this.”

The student frantically pleaded with them as the limosine steadily cruised towards their destination.

“Of course we know that.”

“Then why” the student was growing more irritable by that seconds

“We can’t tell you that yet but-“ Yuuka sly expression widened as took a lollipop from the limousine’s bar

The limosine stops as the doors are opened to display a grand campus

“I’m sure we won’t need to worry about you finding that out for yourself”

——

Beyond the Music Room- Chapter 6: Academia White

TWST Idol AU x Reader (Twisted Idolland)

-end-

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Author’s note~

Sorry for being absent did you guys miss me? 🫶🏾

Also I turn 15 in 5 days 🤭

Taglist! (Ask or Dm to be added or Removed

@sunnyshineblaze @lionar0und @cupids-chamber

@hearts-like-iron @raix-lv @lucian-kinnder

@lynihana @otaku-explosion @kiriesdreamworld

@m1chij0u

[immeasurablesaladagere]

If its alright could you write a Agere Story of Hawks being a little and maybe Touya or Endeavor find him at his apartment after he missed a meeting [Person can be anyone that makes sense to find him at his home]

One order of little!Hawks, coming right up! Felt kinda weird calling him by his hero name but also just as weird calling him Keigo, but I'd like to think he and Touya are close enough to be on a first-name basis so Keigo it is. I hope you enjoy!

-----

Word Count: 1250

Summery: When Hawks oversleeps and misses an important meeting that the LOV was supposed to be listening in on, Touya takes it upon himself to check in on him.

-----

It was almost two in the morning when Keigo stumbled into his apartment, exhausted. Stupid night shift. Stupid villains. Didn’t they have something better to be doing in the middle of the night? Like sleeping maybe? The structural collapse mission had kept him nearly three hours longer than when he was scheduled to go home, marking the third night in a row he’d not only worked a night shift but stayed late. 

Bits of grime and gravel scratched uncomfortably between the feathers of his wings. He gave them a sluggish shake to knock out the dirt to no avail, and sighed. He’d managed to beat the line for a  shower at the agency after the mission but he didn’t have the time or energy to wash or preen his wings, so he would just have to settle for the grimy feeling until tomorrow.

He staggered to his bedroom, shucked off his uniform, flopped into his nest of blankets, and quickly fell asleep.

——

Of course, leave it to the bird-man to live in a high-rise with an inaccessible balcony. 

Touya eyed the ground below from the fire escape, watching for peering eyes that might catch a high-ranking villain jumping onto the number two hero’s balcony. There weren’t any; it was late enough in the morning that the commute rush was mostly finished and the few still milling around were too distracted with their own lives to bother looking up. Aided by his fire he made the quick leap across two balconies onto Hawks’ and slid open the sliding glass door without issue, just as he expected. Cocky bastard. He was practically inviting villains in at this rate.

Keigo’s apartment was dark and quiet, which meant he was either gone or still asleep, and based on his notable absence from his very important agency meeting, he was putting his money on the second option. Keigo just loved to make his life difficult. Now instead of being able to just listen in on the meeting like The League had planned, it had been rescheduled, and now all of their work bugging the room was put to waste.

And, as much as he hated to acknowledge it, Keigo suddenly going missing was at least a little concerning. Despite his blasé attitude he took his job seriously, and sleeping through a meeting as important as this one wasn’t like him, so he figured an impromptu check-in was in order. 

“Oi, Bird-Brain! You alive in here?” He called into the house. Keigo wasn’t crashed on the couch, so off to the bedroom he went. The door was wide open, and on top of the blankets covered by his dull red wings laid Keigo, completely dead to the world and snoring.

Touya smirked. Figures. He dropped down onto the bed and gave Keigo a nudge. “C’mon, wake up birdie. It’s not polite to ignore your guests.” Keigo groaned and batted his hand away. “It’s also not great to sleep with dirty wings, but y’know. Priorities.”

“Go ‘way…” Keigo mumbled, voice high-pitched and drowsy, “M’sleepy.”

Ah. Little, apparently. That made sense. If he remembered his schedule correctly then Hawks had been working a few nights in a row now, and the news reported that there were multiple villain attacks in the middle of the night and, probably, if he had to guess, right when Keigo’s shifts were supposed to end.

“I know, baby bird, but your wings are dirty and I’m pretty sure you haven’t had breakfast, right?”

“Mmm no…”

“Then up we get, sleepyhead. We’ll get some food in you and I’ll give you a preen, and then you can go back to sleep, okay?”

Keigo finally opened his eyes, bleary and none-too-impressed. He stared stubbornly at him and didn’t move a muscle. So that’s how it was gonna be, huh?

“Alright, up and ‘attem, let’s go.” Taking matters into his own hands, Touya wrangled his arms under Keigo’s armpits and hoisted him up into a sitting position, earning himself an irritated whine. He ignored Keigo’s valiant protests and moved over to his dresser, pulling out a soft-looking sweatshirt and a pair of shorts and tossing them to him. “You get dressed and I’ll get started on breakfast, alright?”

He got a half-hearted grumble in response. Good enough.

Keigo’s pantry left much to be desired. Dried pasta, ramen packages, crackers, and one nearly-empty box of sugary cereal. His fridge wasn’t much better, but at least he had milk and some fruit. By the time Keigo shuffled into the kitchen, stuffed dog tucked neatly in his arms, Touya had a bowl of cereal on the table alongside a small plate of soda crackers and berries. It wasn’t his best work, but it would do. Keigo had never been particularly picky.

“How old are we feeling, baby?”

Keigo shrugged and took a slow bite of cereal. “Mm… five? ‘Dunno.”

Now that he was in the light of the kitchen it was easier to see just how tired Keigo really looked. He had dark circles under his eyes, his hair was scruffy and flat, his exposed skin was littered with healing bruises and peeling band-aids, and of course, his wings were a mess. “You really are tired, huh? Must’ve been to sleep through that meeting.”

Keigo scrunched up his face in confusion. “Meeting? What meet-“ He froze, eyes going wide. “Noooo…” He whined, bonking his head into the table, “Forgot ‘bout it…”

Touya shrugged and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it kid, they rescheduled it already.” Keigo looked up at him with a questioning pout, “I would know, I was there.” He said cheekily.

Keigo huffed and went back to his breakfast. “Can’t do that, you’re gonna get in trouble.”

“You let me worry about that, okay? I’m a big boy, I can handle myself.”

He finished his food quickly and Touya set his dishes in the sink. He was here to be a babysitter, not a maid. Keigo could clean those himself later. Speaking of Keigo, he was almost asleep at the table, eyes drooping closed and then quickly blinking open again before he could topple over. “Okay, let’s get your wings cleaned up and then you can go back to bed, I promise.”

On the way back to the bedroom Touya snagged his wing brush and a bottle of oil from the bathroom before dropping down next to him on the bed. “Wings out, bud.” He prompted, and Keigo complied easily, fanning out his wings into his lap. He began the slow and methodical process of preening, dragging the brush over his wings to knock off the surface-level dirt before combing with his fingers to find any remaining rocks or sticks, of which there were many. Whatever he’d been doing had really done a number on his wings. They were in rough shape this time. He could practically feel Keigo going boneless under his hands as he worked, and by the time he was re-oiling the feathers he was practically slumped forward, barely awake.

“Okay baby bird, all done. Are we ready to go back to bed now?”

“Mm-hmm…” Keigo mumbled, taking that as his invitation to flop down completely and snuggle down into the blanket pile, stuffed dog tucked under his chin.

“Then my job here is done. Papa Dabi has to go back to work now, okay? If you need anything you know you can give me a call.” He said, running gentle hand through Keigo’s messy hair, “Sweet dreams, baby bird. You deserve it.”

[carnalapples]

happy dadwc friday! I love your DA lore prompt list, so let's have some of: The Hand That Cuts. A unique ring.This ring grows unusually warm when slipped onto a finger. It pulses slightly and steadily, as if in time with the wearer’s heartbeat.

Happy Friday!! I love nirikeehan’s DA lore prompts... For you and @broodsys for @dadrunkwriting, I have some more Amell/Nathaniel, very self indulgent :)

When Nathaniel finds her on the carpet, ringed round by a pile of silver, she does not expect the words that fall from his mouth to be: “What do you need?”

“A hot bath,” Amell sighs. “I was too tired to heat the water tonight.”

“It might be a while. Everyone’s gone to bed.”

“No matter.” She waves him off. “It can keep until morning.”

“And what have you chosen to dedicate your time to tonight?” He stares down at her, eyes glancing over her piles of treasure. Trinkets, more like.

“I just have to make sense of these... I was thinking we could sell some of them off.”

"Our coffers overflow," he murmurs wryly, and she bites her tongue. With barely any hesitation he sits before her, long legs crossed in an invitation.

“Here,” she says, barely biting back her relief as she uses a forearm to shove a pile in his direction. Together, they make steady work of the piles, turning pieces over in the lamp light as their warped reflections stare back up at them menacingly.

“Amell,” he says out of the blue, titles forgotten in their late hour. There is a light tension in her name, the sounds pulled taut. She looks up at that, looks at the thin band of silver at the base of his finger. “Where did you get this?” he rasps, tugging the metal off of his hand. Amell glances at the ring as it falls, pausing her sorting.

“I think I found it in a pile of silverware. I can’t really remember.” She clings to everything she gets, still has trinkets lining her rucksack from that year of Blight. A knife from a bloody altar, a painted rune she can’t read. She once took a ring from the belly of a wolf.

“Put it on.”

“Really, now?” She’s not too bothered by the thought. “I think it’d suit you better,” she says, angling it to let it catch the light.

“See for yourself.”

She slides it onto her own finger and barely avoids a flinch at the sharp pulse of feeling.

“Oh,” she breathes, her pulse quickening at the rapid warming of the silver. The ring seems to contract and release with her heartbeat, pinching into her skin and letting go. It is not so much painful as uncanny, she thinks. And that is before it begins to heat, steadily, not to a point of pain, but just shy of uncomfortable.

Perhaps it is uncomfortable because of its knowledge. That it knows there is blood inside her, that this ring can sense her life. Can sense the taint as well from the dull way it pulses, the slight hum of the metal. Amell does not like thinking of her own life, of its fragility. She was going to be a healer, once, and then she died. Now she hates to consider the sickness spreading in her blood, the sluggish thump of her pulse against the taint mixed in. She learned to kill instead, to burn and scar.

She scarred Nathaniel a year ago. Tried to heal him because Anders wasn’t with them, and she was out of practice. Left a ridge running down his thigh, but she was nervous. So much blood. She’s tired of blood. And still he had looked at her after like he was grateful. It sickened her. It never should have gone like this. The ring feels tighter with every breath.

“That’s very strange,” she laughs weakly, and Nathaniel smiles, looking almost relieved to hear this truth acknowledged between them. A secret confidence.

She tugs the ring off. And after the two of them have gone to bed, she slips it back onto her finger, warm as if it never left.

///

There’s a heady mix of blood and adrenaline rushing through her and it’s overwhelming, the ring tight on her finger. She feels sharper, more alert, more lethal like this. Nathaniel comes up to her, touches her shoulder, and it sparks through her, some base instinct to rush away.

There’s some blood along his cheek, and she feels her pulse quicken. She reaches up to swipe it away, but it rubs into his skin, deepens the color there. He’ll burn in the sun, she thinks fleetingly. It's a silly thought, a thought from before. There are darkspawn afoot now. Her world is changed.

“Commander,” he says.

"Hmm?"

"Do you need healing?" She follows his finger to see that he's pointing at her leg, where her leathers have been sliced at the thigh. Dully, she feels the fear of the taint, and then she laughs because they're too far gone for that sort of fear. He raises a brow.

"Save the supplies, Nate."

"At least let me stop the bleeding," he offers, and she stiffens at the thought of his hands on her.

"I can do it," she says, and he hands over the roll of cloth he's been unwinding for her. As she takes it, his eyes flick back down to her hand.

"You got it back?" The ring, she remembers, too late. She forgot to take it off.

“I was curious,” she says. A weak defense. And if it’s conspicuous to him at all, if this thing lays her feelings bare for anyone more than herself—it is only her fault for allowing them to grow once more at all.

“Watch out,” she says sharply, as another spider comes tearing out of the cave, too close to him for comfort before she drops the bandage and lets a spell fly. She ties the knot off quickly as he comes nnear, trying to ignore the way the ring bucks against her skin in protest.

///

Amell sighs as she leans back against the palace wall, trying to retrace every hidden meaning of her conversation with Alistair. Trying not to dissemble the manner in which he laid a kiss to her hand, some strange inversion of the oath she owes to him.

She had taken her jewelry off, including that blasted ring, almost afraid of what might have happened when her hand brushed his. Had some secret feeling been let loose, some feeling she thought lay dead and gone. And still there is the hope of it, that something might yet linger between them—a hope she wishes she could lay to rest for good.

After some consideration, she quickly slips the ring back on, the gentle thrum coming back to her. Becoming a part of her.

"You were good out there," she hears. With quick, light steps, she can hardly tell Nathaniel is with her until he’s at her shoulder.

"Was I?"

"Better than that first year."

"I should hope so!" she says, and she winces. It's too breathy, too earnest. She's out of practice with chatter, could it be? More that this place does something to her. Twists her into someone she cannot recognize. "I made a right mess of the Keep that year," she says wistfully. Fondly, in a way.

"You take good care of it," he says evenly. "More than I could ever wish for my home." It is warm, this approval. There is a sense of shame that comes with it, but she basks in it. He shifts next to her, and she shifts her hand away in a practiced move.

She really should stop wearing this ring around him. He’ll know everything.

"And you held yourself well with the king."

"We were very close once," she says. She doesn't mean to, and she shouldn’t, but she does. Yet he stays cool. Indifferent.

"And what happened?" he asks, because her constable knows her. Knows she likes a story.

I made a mistake. It is at the tip of her tongue and she stays herself. Was it? She would have done it again. And Alistair has made his fair share. Even after she gave him his crown. She stays quiet. He takes this hesitation in a strange way, his eyes softening.

"Nathaniel, wait," she says. Urgent, even though he's hardly moved. He's not going anywhere.

She slides her hand against his chest, coming to rest against his throat. He swallows, and she feels the knot move against her hand, the ring pulsing a little quicker. She should stop wearing the ring. Should stop coming to the palace. Should stop the magic she has no business learning.

And yet she craves the power. The arc of lightning under her fingers and the chill of ice. Feels right like few things do. Like she’s born for it.

"My lady," he says softly, and she realizes she's lost herself.

"I’m not a lady," she replies, but there’s no bite to it. It’s a well worn refrain between them. A game. A reminder of a softer life.

He places his hands at her elbows.

"Commander," he offers instead, and though there is that teasing warmth she has missed so much, even now she will have to be the one to close the distance. She is dead, and so is he, and what more is there to wait for? She tilts her face towards his and presses her mouth to his. Feeling increasingly stupid in the moment, two, it takes him to react. Until he presses her back against the wall, and the metal quickens on her finger.

He brushes a kiss to her hand; like her king did, but his lips linger on the ring, and she feels it shudder on her skin. She tugs him close, uneasy with these similarities. She wants something new. She wants to be made new. She wants to be broken down and reassembled into something better. Or just different. Reforged.

Nate kisses into her neck, her jaw, tugs her collar down and down. She’s too stiff under him, but she’s half in disbelief that she’s done this.

She is too still, she thinks, because he breaks away from her then, his brow furrowing. She knows that look, has worn it too often in her life. As if he has erred, and he can’t tell why.

"It was not a mistake," she says. To what, she does not know. To all of it, perhaps. The boy-king’s crown and the unwanted mercy and the kiss that breaks the curse.

Quickly, Amell wrenches the ring off of her finger; but still, the feeling remains.

[levis-coffeecup]

chapter 23| Sanctuary

WC-4.9k

Summary

The underground is filthy and dark. Dim lights, dull alleys, and desperate hearts. A place Levi knows as well as the back of his hand, and a place he would do anything to get out of.

Chapters of life roll by and with the turn of a page, things drastically change. In front of him is the opportunity to live on the surface. And the flimsy bridge that he has to cross. From an uncivil criminal to a disciplined soldier.

But life on the surface seems tougher amidst all the mockery, civilities, and the gaping hole left in his heart, after the demise of his dear friends Isabel and Farlan.

Content/Warnings

canon- compliant, canon-typical violence, spoilers for No Regrets OVA, descriptions of PTSD, grief, depression, heavy angst and themes, strong language, self-hate, physical assault.

Author’s Note

Hi guys!!!!

It's been long, and I'm so sorry for the delay. So much has happened in the past 4 months... I've completed an intense internship, graduated and gotten broken up with even though I wasn't even in a relationship LOL.

But I've got good news now! I'm almost done with the entire fic (only 2 chapters left). And from next Saturday, I'll be uploading a chapter every week again (Every Saturday)!

Song for this chapter is Flightless Bird, American Mouth by Vitamin String Quartet

Hope you enjoy!

Chapters

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

Masterlist | Playlist | Other Works

FEB 848

Birds chirp as the sun wakes from its slumber. Making the night fade, as it lazily appears past the horizon.

A gentle breeze slips through the window, tousling the white curtains. And sunlight enters, landing on Levi's eyes, stirring him from his sleep.

The hearth dimly glows from the fire he was stoking at midnight. And his bed is warm and messy.

Mae is pressed close to him, her back to his chest, and his hand around her waist. And she sleeps like a log, with the sound of her soft snores filling up the space.

Long gone are the days when he used to stutter at every word he uttered. The bumpy rushes of adrenaline have now softened. And the giddiness he would face when he had to see her, has now been replaced with comfort.

He pulls her closer to him, feeling the rise of her belly with every breath she takes.

She has finally saved up the money and bought her own clinic. The place is good and close to home too.

Life has been going good. They're doing well together.

And Levi spends a few more minutes lazing around, steeping in how sluggish the morning feels.

Mornings with Mae are usually like this. Lazy and slow. They cuddle for a little while after they wake up, and then they cook breakfast together.

But today, he has a mission to go to. Slowly his senses come to wake.

The scent of blood faintly mixes with air, and he looks down to see Mae's dress stained. She's menstruating, and her blood has blotted the white sheets as well.

"Mae," He pokes her shoulder, but she's in deep sleep.

"Mae," he calls a little louder.

Groggily one of her eyes open.

"Hmm," her morning voice is hoarse.

"You're bleeding... go change." he nudges, as he gets up to make his side of the bed.

But sleep still hangs heavily on her eyelids.

And Levi's words fall on deaf ears.

"Wanna sleep some more," she whines. Eyes still shut, and drowsy. There was an emergency at her clinic yesterday, she came home very late.

"Mae," Levi urges again as he flattens out the creases on the bed, "It'll get dirtier the more you sleep, just get changed and sleep again."

"I know.. But I'll clean it later", she turns away from him, annoyed. Her body hurts a bit, and she's so sleepy, she's hardly able to keep her eyes open.

"It's harder to take stains out the longer you wait... It will take me 5 minutes to clean it now."

"I'll scrub extra hard." she mutters, pulling the blanket over her face.

"You hardly scrub anything," Levi grumbles, throwing a snide remark about the general state of the house. There's dust everywhere, and there's a few dishes in the sink that have been lying dirty for 2 days.

Mae gets up now, sensing the annoyance in his voice. She props herself on her elbows and her eyes squint as she slowly adjusts to the brightness. "I've been busy Levi... "she mumbles. "The clinic has been taking so much of my time..."

And Levi grunts in response. He knows she's been busy, And he understands why the house is a little messier.

But his temper still rises at the site of her laying, making a bigger mess this very moment.

Maybe it's the stress of the mission today. Maybe it's how lazy she is being. He doesn't know what's making him snap so badly, but at this moment he just wants to be right.

And compassion slips so easily from his resolve. He's usually patient, but he can't stand messes that can easily be avoided.

"I know it's hard, but it's not hard to get up now and change the sheets Mae..." he growls. "The sheets are white, and you're staining it this very moment goddamnit!" Frustration catches the ends of his words.

But her stomach aches, and her head hurts, all she wants is a few minutes more, before she gets up. She hardly has the energy to catch all of Levi's words.

And Levi's brows furrow. Her aloofness is the final straw.

Time ticks loud, yet slow. "Get up I'll clean it myself," he commands, and the voice that comes out is the one he uses at all his soldiers.

He starts tugging on the sheets, and Mae feels it slip past her body. All she wanted was to sleep for a few minutes, and Levi wouldn't even let that happen.

"What's your problem?" She gets up agitated.

"I'm taking the sheets to clean them."

"I'll clean them in a while, what's the need to do it now?... Especially when you have a mission to go to." She almost yells and her face contorts into anger.

"Because it's getting on my nerves." he seethes through his teeth,

And Mae scoffs exasperated, as she starts pulling the bedsheet out too.

"You're so difficult at times. Do you know how hard it is to love you?"

Regret fills her mind as soon as the words slip past her mouth.

And Levi's eyes widen, his body tensing. Her words hit a weak spot.

Her words aren't far from the truth. And he has nothing to say to her. Maybe that is why it hurts so much.

And he's quick to turn to his feet. Hiding the fresh wound of her words, away from her.

Mae follows after him. 'Levi, Levi, sweetheart," she calls out.

But he successfully ignores her. Hurt immeasurably by her words. He picks out his clothes from the closet. And closes the bathroom door shut.

He finds comfort in the shower, where he doesn't have to see her anymore.

When he steps out, he's already sporting his Survey Corps uniform.

Mae stands in front of him. A new bed sheet has been put on the mattress and the old one is bundled up in his hands. She tried to clean the stain in the kitchen sink, but with no success.

But Levi's eyes are cold now, and he sports the same face he puts on for the rest of the world.

The tension in the room is constricting. It was such a trivial topic, who would have known it would escalate so quickly.

"Levi," she pleads. But it feels like her voice only annoys him further.

"Listen to me please." She drops the stained bedsheet, and she rushes behind him. But nothing can stop him now. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean those words," she apologizes.

She didn't mean for it to come out, he thinks.

He rushes down the stairs, and Mae stares at him with remorse.

There's still 2 hours left before the Survey Corps arrives at Trost and leaves for the mission. And Levi has nowhere else to go.

She decides she'll make him his favorite breakfast.

But he picks up his bag and boots.

The door slams shut.

________________

The wind rips past Levi's ears, as his horse gallops past the open fields.

A few red flares went up, then there were two purple ones. Too many titans have attacked the east wing.

And Levi finds himself steering his horse away from his squad, towards the besieged area. He has to make sure the titans don't penetrate the formation further.

Grass fields stretch for miles in front of him. There's hardly any trees around, for him to use the ODM gear on. And he also doesn't know where he'll park his horse. Because some time soon, he will have to be in the air, suspended with the cords of his ODM gear.

The wind blows in his face and the afternoon sunlight feels warm against his skin for a blissful moment. But soon the atmosphere turns into something grim and sinister. And Levi's horse almost panics. Raising its forelimbs up in resistance.

The smell of blood wraps around like a thick blanket. In the distance, he can see a few titans devouring his comrades. They've all gathered between two tall trees, and he hopes he can find someone alive, hiding behind a tree's dense canopy.

He maneuvers his horse forward. And as soon as he reaches close enough to the titans, he launches himself into the air.

The grass is stained red, and corpses are littered on the ground. Some slumped against the tree trunk.

And Levi winces

Seems like everyone's dead already. It was useless, coming here.

A titan turns towards him, and he pulls out his blades. The wind propels him forward, and he flows like the breeze.

The way he moves is an art that could be studied.

It comes naturally to him, and he pivots mid air, effortlessly reaching its nape, and slicing it. More titans turn towards him, as the first one falls to the ground,

They swat recklessly, and Levi dodges their wonky arms with ease.

4 down 3 more left. There's not an ounce of panic in his body. His hand reaches down to grab another blade, but it's met with nothing.

He quickly scans the tallest tree around him, and lands on it. To a spot where the titans can't reach him. And he looks down to find his ODM gear empty.

He's running out of blades. And far in the distance he can see his horse galloping away from the chaos of the titans.

Tch, what a big blunder.

The only thing saving his life at the moment is the height of the tree. And he clicks his tongue, disappointed at his carelessness. He should have borrowed some extra blades from his squad before coming here.

Titans accumulate around him, like moths to a flame. It will be hard to escape through them even if he had all his blades restocked.

And if things are going according to plan, then the rest of the Survey Corps must be somewhere in the North East, way ahead of him. They probably won't even see his flare.

Nevertheless, he uses his purple flare. Hoping someone finds him worth saving.

Time ticks slowly, and he is forced to play the waiting game.

Death stands a meter away from him, trying its best to grab him. And he's left with nothing... but the rotting corpses of his comrades and his thoughts. And he's so helpless, call it his own negligence or bad luck

He sits down on the branch. At least he's distracting the titans from wandering further into the formation.

Exhausted, he slumps. Rotting in the scent of his dead comrades. As the events of the past few hours fill up his idle mind.

He was waiting at the stables, sitting on a wooden stool next to his horse's stall.

He had nowhere else to go. The streets were filthy and soon they would be swarmed by people bustling to earn their daily bread.

It had been an hour since he had been sitting here. And Mae didn't come to bother him yet.

He didn't know if that thought hurt him, or kept him calm.

Maybe she was on the road searching for him.

He threw another glance at the Trost Clock Tower.

It was 7:45 am. Just 15 minutes left, before the Survey Corps entered Trost and he left with his squad. He had never felt so eager to step out of the walls.

And he fiddled with the hem of his cloak, to kill time.

Heavy footsteps pounded the footpath, and his eyes met with Mae's.

She had changed into a fresh pair of clothes, and she carried a tiffin in her hand.

Her face morphed into that of relief as her eyes landed on him.

"Levi, she breathed.

Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead, she was panting.

He could tell she ran, to be here as soon as possible.

"Levi," she huffed, keeping her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. "I washed the sheet ... it didn't take me too much time."

All he wanted was to keep the house cleaner for her.

But the argument wasn't about the sheets anymore. Her words had cut deeper.

They still rung in his head, making it ache. Deep down he'd always known that he was a pain in the ass. And maybe what hurt was the fact that she thought so too.

"Levi," she tried to grab his attention. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I said."

And in a childish attempt to protect his own heart, he turned the other way around. A part of him didn't even know how to face her. He was the one that was hard to love after all, not her.

"Come on now, it was such a silly fight! I know what I said wasn't silly, but I got breakfast for you, since you didn't eat anything." She kept the tiffin on his lap. "Don't go on a mission empty stomach please."

But he placed the tiffin, next to his stool, on the floor.

The next time Mae's voice reached his ears, it was wispy. He could tell she was on the brink of tears.

"Please just look at me." Her words teetered on the edge of a plea.

But Levi remained callous as usual. Even if he's miserably hurting on the inside, he pretends to act unbothered. At least that way, he looks strong.

And Mae felt her heart sink from his constant rejections...

She sat down on her knees, between him and the pavement. Hoping that he looked at her at least once. "Am I annoying you? Do you want space? Just tell me you need space, but don't leave me hanging in uncertainty Levi, please."

Partly, he himself didn't know what he wanted. It always took him a while to figure out what he was feeling and why he was feeling so. And he surely didn't want her to see through.

Fortunately, luck favored him today. The clinking of the city bell broke the floundering moment. His facade stayed put. And he got up without an ounce of remorse, to put a saddle on his horse.

And Mae slumped, looking down at the ground, time had run out, and Levi seemed unbothered by all that she had done so far.

Her belly hurt from the cramps. And her heart felt dizzy with guilt .  "Levi," she turned around, with the last of her hope.

She didn't want him to leave for the mission on such a bitter note.

But he was already in front of his horse. Waiting to get away from her.

She rushed towards him.

"Levi." Tears started filling up her eyes. He could tell by the subtle change in her voice. "Please say something...Tell me that I'm full of shit."

Her hand latched around his wrist, begging. And her voice cracked with a tinge of pain. "I love you," she confessed.

It was a tradition She always told him she loved him, before she left for a mission.

But Levi didn't turn around, he just shook her hand off, and got on his horse. His vision steered at what lay ahead of him.

The sound of his horse marching partially covered the sound of her silent sobs.

Like a hammer striking a fragile mirror, the fact that these might be his last few moments on earth sinks into his mind.

And he tries hard, to think of all the good times. But all the lovely images of her smiling morph into those of her begging him to forgive her.

Someone like him knows how fragile life is. One moment a person is next to him, and the other moment they are gone. And how he wishes he had turned back around, and kissed her.

The titans below him, drool. Stretching on their tippy toes to reach towards him.

And desperately, his eyes scan through his surroundings, ardent for a solution. But all he sees is two more titans wobbling his way.

Every time he comes back from the battlefield, worn out and tainted with blood, all he wants is to see her, and hear his name from her mouth.

But now that feels like a distant dream.

And if he dies today, then the last memory Mae would have of him, is of him ignoring the shit out of her.

The thought makes him die a little. And he would trade an arm and leg to meet her one last time.

Because her love is so strong, it paralyzes him to the core. Her love is so persistent, it makes him want to live for a 100 years in this shitty world.

Some days it's the only thing that makes him fight harder.

And if he dies today, then she would have to live without knowingthat she's the best thing that's ever happened to him.

His mouth runs dry at the thought, and he starts drumming his fingers, anxious. There's so many things that he wishes he could have told her.

But he'll only be able to survive three days without food and water on this tree top. And it'll be pointless to step down even at night without a horse.

The smell of rotting corpses gets stronger. And maybe it's fair for him to die in such misery, after how much of a failure he's been.

He slumps against the tree trunk.

His hope goes down faster than the setting sun.

And it's almost as if God has listened to his prayers, when a tiny dot approaches closer and closer in his direction.

It's silhouette becomes more prominent, and Levi squints to make sure his mind isn't playing tricks on him.

The Survey Corps cape flaps with the wind, victorious.

And Levi feels as if a new heartbeat has come up in his vacant chest. He stands up on the branch.

Soon he can distinguish the familiar set of brown hair, and the wide rimmed glasses.

Hange, his heart brims up with relief.

The world has given him another chance. And even though he knows he's not good enough, in no way is he not taking up this offer.

It's not often that life is so kind to him.

He waves his hand at Hange. And with how empty the landscape is, they are able to spot him with ease.

The flock of titans remain distracted, their primal gaze set on Levi's lean frame. And Hange finds it fairly easy to get up on her horse, and dart towards the branch Levi is on.

They swoosh past two titans, landing on the spot next to him.

Luckily their horse doesn't panic and run in the opposite direction.

"Hange," Levi sighs in relief. In this moment he feels like he could hug them out of sheer gratitude. "How many blades have you got?"

"Not a lot, there's only three." And there's 7 titans surrounding them.

"Three will do," his voice is determined. And he launches himself into the air, ready to slay the titans in front of him

He would fight against the world to see her again.

________________

The weather is lovely today, filled with the mellow rays of the setting sun. Birds chirp around the corner, and the streets are quiet, devoid of the usual chatter that flocks around at this hour.

It's 6 in the evening on a Thursday. And there's only one thought on Levi's mind as he strolls through the lanes of Trost.

His heart skips beats, out of both nervousness and excitement. And the bag in his hand feels heavy, filled with fresh ingredients that he's just bought from a fancy market.

The walk to Mae's house is surprisingly short. And there's not many things that Levi feels excited about in life. But surprisingly this dinner is.

He stares at the familiar wooden door, thinking about her face, when she sees the candlelight dinner and the food he's made for her.

There's steak, and cheese. And he's also got her some freshly baked strawberry pastries and chocolates to help with her menstruation.

He picks the keys from his pocket. Their jingle sounds like a melody to him. And a rare smile tugs on his lips, as he twists the knob.

He has to remind himself to catch a hold of himself.

The door creaks as it slowly opens, and all the excitement in Levi's heart sinks to the floor. Mae is sitting on the couch, with a puffy face and half of her blanket scattered on the floor.

His eyes widen and he curses under his breath. It's a Thursday evening, she was supposed to be at work. But she's in front of him instead, in the middle of a sob session.

The air feels thick. And the sight of her sobbing makes his heart hurt. Nevertheless he dares to step in.

He slips off his boots and places them on the shoe rack. The keys to their house jingle in his pocket. And the sound of his footsteps is oddly comforting.

And Mae frowns the longer she looks at him. Little did she know, that the sound of his movements was all her hurting heart needed

The past four days have been hell for her. Levi didn't come to see her. It was as if he's disappeared.

And the only source that kept her from believing that he had died, were the rare few people who saw the Survey Corps enter in the thick of the night.

And so she was forced to take a day off today, unable to function with the uncertainty of where their relationship stands.

A fresh tear slips past her eye. And Levi places his bag full of groceries on the center table, extremely jittery himself. The candles he bought for the dinner will probably go to waste. But there are more important matters that require his attention, such as her miserable condition.

He knows he's the reason behind it, and quietly he takes a seat on the other end of the couch. Fingers tapping profusely against his knee, as he racks his brain for what to say.

And Mae seems apprehensive as ever. Looking up at him, through her clumpy lashes, with her arms folded against her chest. He never knew it was possible for her to look so angry yet sad at the same time.

"A-are you still b-bleeding?" He hesitates.

"It's gone now, doesn't last more than 4 days for me." She rebuttals. And as much as the coldness in her voice scares him, Levi knows it's his chance to make it up to her.

Timidly, he scoots closer to her, his hands reaching for her face. But she pushes them away.

It's been 5 days since their fight. She thought that this was the end for them. And now he just shows up as if nothing ever went wrong between them

"What took you so long?" she grumbles pissed. But the tears in her eyes betray.

And with a lot of courage, he pulls her head into his chest. "I'm s-sorry... I was too embarrassed to face you... b-because I was s-such an asshole. "

"Embarrassed?" She scoffs as she looks up at him. "And here I am losing hair over whether you'll come back... or leave me forever without any explanation." Her face has turned red, her nose is stuffy, and her eyes are so glossy. He swears they will be swollen the next morning.

"I'm sorry." His voice is heavy, laden with guilt.

A part of his mind hates himself. She deserves so much better than him. The thought runs mercilessly in his head. He just wants it to stop, but he can't escape it.

And it's ironic indeed that the only person he trusts enough to silence his doubts, is also the person that causes it. Mae

He tucks some of her hair behind her ear. "D-do you think I'm being selfish, by keeping you all to myself?" His voice is low, and he looks away from her, as he lays her insecurities down. Bare in front of her.

Her eyebrows furrow, and she tilts back to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I know it's not easy for you, t-the arrangement we have, I'm too busy... You see me once every three months... I don't know, it's just something I often think about."

And Mae frowns. It's a wound that keeps resurfacing, no matter how hard she tries to make Levi feel loved.

At least he's letting her know how he feels though. That's progress.

"Levi," her voice is gentle. And her patience with him melts every ounce of doubt in his mind. "Loving you is hard, but it's also something I love doing... It's something I do willingly."

All her resentment almost fades away when she's met with the vulnerability that swarms his eyes. She's so close to forgiving him, but then the anxiety of the past four days comes haunting back to her.

"You put me through so much pain ..." She pushes against his chest and turns her back toward him. " I thought you wouldn't talk to me ever again... I know I shouldn't have said it's hard to love you... But I was mad, I didn't mean it. You could have at least told me that you need space and that we'll be fine? But you just left me hanging for like 4 days straight."

The pain in her voice is haunting, and out of desperation, his calloused hand wraps around her upper arm. Turning her around until her palms land on his chest, and her head rests on his heart.

"I'm sorry, I- I was a prick, I felt awful at first and I didn't even want to look at you... maybe because what you said was so true."

And then he cups both of her cheeks, cradling her. "I didn't think about how much me staying away would hurt you... I should have been more understanding."

His face is so close to hers, she can see every scar and scratch on his face. And the way he looks at her is so apologetic and genuine. She would have never thought he was capable of showing so much emotion.

She closes the distance between them. Desperate for a kiss.

Their flaws have started coming out now.

Mae is messy and always leaves the bedsheets undone when she leaves her bed. And Levi has a habit of seeing flaws in everything, always pointing out the smallest mistakes. From the salt in the soup she made, to her cleaning skills... even on days when she doesn't want to hear it.

Mae cries a little too much when she misses her parents, and Levi becomes a total workaholic when the deaths of his comrades haunt him.

Slowly their colors are coming out and what is left is the true image of what they are...

In their raw, most vulnerable form.

Their gaps and shortcomings. Turns out they aren't as much of a perfect fit and not every part of him interlocks with hers like a jigsaw puzzle.

Levi pulls away, admiring how pink Mae's lips look from all the kissing. She's alive and so is he. He couldn't be more grateful.

Another tear slips past Mae's eye. This time it's a happy one. And she rests her heavy head on his chest. "Thank you for telling me how you feel, I know it's hard for you, and I appreciate that, Levi"

They've found home in each other. And home doesn't have to be perfect, home just has to be warm.

And Levi caresses her hair, as he kisses the top of his head.

"I-I love you." His voice comes out confident. And he glides his thumb against her cheek. It's not a feeling he's ashamed of anymore. "And I don't ever want to lose you."

And Mae's eyes widen. She never thought he would say it out loud. But if he has, then he must truly mean it.

In the split of a second, her lips crash back into his. Her heart jolts, and in her sheer enthusiasm, she tackles him to the couch.

He lands on his back, with her hands on his chest and her thighs straddling his hips.

Instinctively, his arms snake around her waist, keeping her safe. And a flurry of I love you too's leave Mae's lips as she pecks his lips again and again.

The room falls away.

Something electric sparkles between them. A desire that can't be explained.

He kisses her again, and again, and again. He never wants to stop.

His hand slips past the hem of her shirt and he squeezes the warmth of her skin. The shyness that once held him back, doesn't bother him anymore, not when he's reached so close to death's gates.

And Mae freezes for a second. With her eyes wide, and her face flushed red. They have never gone this far before, and she squirms for a second.

But she can't even budge. Curse Humanity's Strongest and his strength.

And Levi's eyes glint with fondness as he pauses and cups her face. "Should we stop?"

The familiarity in his voice is all it takes to put her at ease. And Mae finds herself settling in both of his palms.

A part of her is afraid and inexperienced, but it's also Levi she's with. He's been with her through everything. And there's no other person she'd rather do this with.

Slowly she relaxes into him as well. And his other hand reaches the back of her neck, guiding her into another kiss.

"The curtains are closed right?" He whispers amidst kisses.

And Mae just nods, too stumped to answer.

His hands rove all over her frame, and she tugs on his hair as the kiss turns more passionate.

The obstruction, named clothes, falls off effortlessly. Landing on the floor in an untidy mess. The outside world ceases to exist for a moment, and Levi and Mae ease into intimacy they've never experienced before.

To all those who are still reading this book, despite my erratic updates, you have no idea how grateful I am to still have you here!

To all those who have lost interest, I don't blame you at all.

Just incase it wasn't clear enough, this was the chapter where Mae and Levi get intimate (for the first time). I wouldn't be going into more detail of explicit scenes than this. So if anyone's reading for smut, this is your sign to click off. Also if anyone's wondering why are they getting intimate after 2 yrs of dating, then that's because I think Levi would have a lot of apprehensions when it comes to sex (because of his mom being a prostitute). So I would think it would take him really long to get comfortable with the idea of doing it.

Lately I've been thinking that I've been writing Levi a little off character lmao. (since the past few chapters lol). But let me know what you think about it, I might make a few tweaks later, when I'll edit the whole book.

This chapter might seem like a filler, but very soon things are going to pick up pace, and after that there's no going back lol. I wanted to show a little bit more about Levi and Mae's relationship before the plot of AOT starts.

Let me know what you thought of this chapter! Constructive criticism is also appreciated. Also if there are any grammatical errors please let me know lmao.

I'll be seeing you very soon! (On Saturday)

Taglist: @keijikunn @evas-leslas @leviackermanmyhero245 (message me if you want to be added)

[girlbenshapiro]

“Let other complain that the age is wicked; my complaint is that it is paltry; for it lacks passion. Men's thoughts are thin and flimsy like lace, they are themselves pitiable like the lacemakers. The thoughts of their hearts are too paltry to be sinful. For a worm it might be regarded as a sin to harbor such thoughts, but not for a being made in the image of God. Their lusts are dull and sluggish, their passions sleepy…This is the reason my soul always turns back to the Old Testament and to Shakespeare. I feel that those who speak there are at least human beings: they hate, they love, they murder their enemies, and curse their descendants throughout all generations, they sin.”

Søren Kierkegaard

[cheetahsprints]

Prompt #8: Heart

Inspired by this post

• Sonadow Prompt Fills •

• Ambience Music •

*

Shadow could hear every shallow beat of his heart. It was slowing down... too slow. His wounds were too severe. Shadow hated that he had let this happen at all. He should’ve been here. Curse his stupid feelings which he had been trying so hard to keep from the other. Now he could lose him forever.

Blood was pooled under him and continued departing rapidly as though it had somewhere better to be. He wasn’t going to make it. Shadow wasn’t sure he could allow that.

Sonic wasn't one who should simply give up and go in peace if there was another route... but what if that's not what he would've wanted...? Sonic idly mentioned once that vampiric abilities looked cool. He would come back even stronger than before... albeit with some... trivial... limitations. But he’d still be around... they’d be together forever... except...

Sonic wasn’t really with him. Shadow didn’t own his heart, yet he was about to make a questionable decision on its behalf. Sonic was unconscious... he couldn’t consent... he might despise Shadow for what he was about to do. He didn’t even know Shadow was a vampire. He was careful to hide his weaknesses and habits, he wore sunglasses along with a harness and leather jacket at all times around Sonic to conceal his special features.

Shadow lifted his head up and bared his teeth, sinking them into Sonic’s neck. His blood was a bitter-sweet tang across Shadow’s tongue. It slithered down his throat. He tasted Sonic’s trembling pulse until it stopped.

His heart would beat again... it was a common misconception in their world that his kind were essentially dead... Well, they had one foot in the grave at all times, but their hearts didn’t stop, they were just shallow and unnaturally fast. Their bodies were tough and cold, but they retained emotions... dulled emotions... other than when it came to their beloved.

A vampire loved once and only once.

He couldn’t lose Sonic. It would break him. The world wouldn’t survive a remorseless Shadow if his heart was gone. He bit into his own wrist and dripped his sluggish blood into Sonic’s slightly parted maw. He sped Sonic to the nearest graveyard.

Shadow picked out a nice spot by a pretty tree in spring bloom, an odd splash of cheerfulness on the gloomy landscape. He removed his gloves and raked his claws into the dirt. He dug a shallow grave... though grave wasn’t the best term... Sonic was going to be reborn… it was more like a cocoon.

He carefully maneuvered his temporarily stiff and lifeless form into the hole and covered it back up. He curled in a ball at the roots of the tree and waited.

Shadow’s head immediately lifted when the dirt rustled. Sonic, now decorated with fangs, yellow sclera, and leather wings, emerged to rejoin the living as a creature of the night. He looked as incredible as ever, and the sight of him returning to the world nearly arrested Shadow’s own heart.

“Sonic.” Shadow slotted himself next to Sonic and carded fingers through his quills. Every fluttering beat of his undead heart was because of Shadow, now. “Please. Forgive me.”

Sonic eyes slid open. He wouldn’t blink anymore unless he did it on purpose. His gaze was squinted for a moment as he adjusted to his considerably sharper vision. “I was... dying... I... is this a graveyard? What did you... do to me?”

Shadow took off his sunglasses and freed his red wings as Sonic’s gaze turned fully on him. He gasped. However, he didn’t seem appalled.

“You’re like me now. I couldn’t lose you, Sonic.” Shadow stared at him, begging him to understand. “You’re everything to me.”

Sonic hesitated a moment, then flung himself at Shadow, wrapped his arms around him. “I’m not mad. My last thought before I passed out was... that I wished I could tell you that I love you.”

Shadow wished his tear ducts still worked. He had never been so happy, not even before he was turned. He settled for squeezing Sonic back as hard as he could, comforted that Sonic would be able to withstand his full strength as a vampire as well. No longer would his affections be restrained.

He dropped down so that he could press his ear against Sonic’s chest, reassuring himself that the heart which Sonic now shared with him continued its important task and this wasn’t a merciless dream. Sonic kissed the top of his head.

*

[themoonsbride]

I'm Sorry, I Had to Go .

pairing: Peter Ballard x Fem!reader

summary; Reader can't take the insanity Hawkins Lab gives her anymore and decides to escape with Eleven in the middle of the night, leaving Peter unknowingly behind.

warnings; descriptions of hatred, tears, fear/anxiety, heartbreak.

a/n; suprise Peter angst !!!! :D (there's not a happy ending.)

--×♥︎×--

The circles under your eyes made you feel sluggish, and braille as if you were weak, or thin, almost in a way were you were invisible.

Your body was swelling, and your feet felt like they were blistering from the assigned heels you were forced to have on your feet everyday.

This job, this place, it felt as though it were a fucking nightmare.

Living in constant anxiety and paranoia was practically not even living anymore. it felt like you were watching someone else live, like you were there anymore within yourself.

The fucking children that were preferably to be announced as "subjects" under the name of Martin Brenner were a pain in the ass.

Especially number 002. God was he a fucking snob. You hated him the most, everytime you'd see him even out of your peripheral vision you wanted to take out the threads from his skin until his bones were embarrassed of themselves.

There was only one kid who didn't seem to always have their foot directing itself up your asshole. And that was 011. She was quiet, and kind. She never really asked of anything, and you'd suspected she might've had an anxiety issue.

Though it wouldn't have mattered, because in this workplace no one cares for anyone else. Not even if someone's fucking dead.

Feelings aren't allowed in Hawkins National Labrotories, and they especially are not meant to be shown by any orderly.

You vigorously rubbed your eyes to wake yourself more even if it would've done practically nothing. You rushed yourself in a heap of panic to find some regular looking clothing for a woman in 1979.

You couldn't stand it any longer, if you stayed here for even another day it felt as though you'd lose your sanity, if it weren't already unrecognizablely lost.

There was a short sleeved soft pink shirt that was button up, it would've had to do for the moment.

And there were also some tan khakis you were able to find, it seemed like one of the nurses outfits, though you didn't care how it ended up in your bedroom.

You were thankful they were there in the first place.

"Miss Y/n?" A small voice croaked into your dull excuse of a bedroom. You whipped yourself around in your new clothing and saw 011.

Salty pools of tears dripped down from her waterline and made her coco eyes red and soggy.

You walked over to her, gently pulling on her hand to bring her inside your room and closed the metal door as quietly as you could behind her.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" Your voice was also small, and extremely quiet.

"bad.. dream.." her voice cracked and shook, and it made your heart sink for her, she didn't deserve to grow up in a facility such as this one.

"It was only a dream Eleven, there's nothing to be scared of, okay?" You rubbed her shoulders lightly to help ease her nerves.

"are.. you, going?" She said exaiming your outfit, she seemed like she was confused, really confused, which was understandable considering she's only around 8 years old.

"..yes, do you want.. to come with me?" You felt hesitant about asking her to come along with you, but she was so young and traumatized enough from everything that went on within these walls.

"against the rules.." She looked down, she seemed scared, but there was a look in her face that told you she wanted to come too.

"I promise I'll keep you safe, no matter what, okay?" She looked up and nodded as you smiled softly and wiped away her warm tears.

"what about.. peter..?"

Peter.

He didn't even come into your mind, He always hinted to you about escaping one day, and it was reliving to know someone else hated this building as much as you did, but you'd never thought he was serious before.

"He'll.. catch up, okay? he'll be with us too at some point.." Your Heart felt itself cracking open at your words, you knew you loved Peter from the moment he started speaking to you, he was always welcoming with open arms and ears. He listen to you talk about your interests, how much you hated it here, and even a little about your past.

But the more you thought about how you'd be leaving him behind, the more you realized you didn't know that much about him.

Would he escape too? if he would, would he even come looking for you and Eleven? or would he just completely move on?

Your Heart wanted you to stay for Peter, but you knew better than to stay for him as much as you now wanted too. If you ever wanted a chance at successfully escaping, you had to take that chance now, while the gaurds were asleep and there were only about 4 hall monitors out, but this building was huge and they could've been anywhere.

"are we leaving.. now?" She sounded nervous now, and you hesitantly nodded, taking her out of your room, holding her hand the entire time to find your way out, down inside the lower, less populated parts of Hawkins Lab.

And before you knew it, you and Eleven were running through the woods without looking back, as tears streamed down your face from breaking your own heart.