#I will gnaw on anything I can get of these four tbh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spicerackofblorbos · 9 months ago

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Chapter 8: June - Part Four [NSFW]

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!mute!Reader (she/her pronouns), set in a modern semi-fictional world

☾ Summary ➼ Due to childhood trauma, you find yourself an adult without the ability to speak. After years of working on it, you have found ways to live without a voice. Now here in your late 20s, you are 5 months in getting used to a new town. On a fateful day in late November, you and your adopted sister visit a local bookstore-café, unaware of the friendships about to blossom. Throughout the months, one friendship in particular develops into something more.

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, oblivious feelings, romance, angst, mention of minor character deaths, trauma, illness, adoption, mentions of fire, disabilities, alcohol use, very light nsfw mentions, references to child abuse, smoking and alcohol abuse mentions, domestic violence, light assault, uhhh- sex? idk how to tag this kind of stuff.

☾ Author's note ➼ Hehe, hi! I bet y'all never thought you'd see this tag OR BANNER on here ever. Tbh, I thought I would never see this tag or banner on any of my writings. But uhhhh- here we are! If it isn't obvious, this is my first time EVER writing smut. I've never even written self-indulgent smut before because it is REALLY HARD FOR ME TO DO. That's mainly why this chapter took so long (I'M SORRY); I wanted to make sure it was perfect. If you're a minor and read the smut I will find you and cut you! Hehe. Anyways. Again, I am so sorry this chapter took so long!! I've hit quite a rut in my life and I'm just really glad to have gotten it done in the first place. Let me know what y'all think!! ALSO CAN Y'ALL BELIEVE THERE'S ONLY ONE MORE PART LEFT HOLD ME I'M CRYING

☾ Word Count ➼ ~10.9k

The visual of Levi’s bewilderment haunts you just as much as the feeling of his lips on yours does. You’re not sure why you thought kissing your friend would be a good idea at all. Regret gnaws at you as you find yourself in a vicious cycle of rumination.

But it wasn’t all regret, was it? You wanted to kiss him. And you liked it.

Maybe it wasn’t regret at all, actually. What you really felt in your core was disappointment. At yourself for not thinking before acting and at him for not responding the way you inwardly hoped he would. If Levi’s cold shoulder this morning wasn’t proof enough, you don’t know what was.

“Love?” Hange’s voice cuts through the white noise reverberating through your skull. Slowly, you turn to where your sister currently sits with light green paste smeared all over their face. You blink the glassiness away and raise an eyebrow at them – which is a little hard to do as you have the same paste smudged on your face that is in the process of drying.

“Were you listening at all?” Concerned eyes bore into yours. You’d say you were thankful for the green tea facial that covers the dark circles under your lashes, but you knew Hange had noticed the moment they laid eyes on you today. They click their tongue and sit upright in your direction.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

‘What do you mean?’

“You look like you didn’t sleep a wink last night and you have been out of it all day. What are you thinking about?”

‘It’s nothing. Just had trouble sleeping.’

“You’re only restless when you have something on your mind.”

You stick your bottom lip out. In truth, you really did want to talk about it, but you weren’t sure what you wanted to say. Hange wasn’t the type to let things go when it came to you though, especially when you’re distressed. You’d need to say something now whether you liked it or not.

‘I like Levi.’ You sign quickly, averting your gaze from the piercing light-brown eyed stare burning holes in your face. You sigh softly and tuck your chin in the white fluffy robe that wraps around your body, ignoring the fact that you’re wiping the face mask off into the fabric as you do. It takes them a moment to realize you’re not planning on saying anything else.

“And that’s upsetting?” They laugh and relax back into the plush cushions. “That’s nothing new. I’ve known for a long time.”

Your eyes cut over to Hange again at that, wide in shock.

‘You knew? How? Since when?’

“I know when someone’s smitten. And you my darling? You are smitten like a kitten.” They roll their head in your direction as they speak, eyes sparkling. “Probably since February.”

Was it that early?

‘Can you be specific?’ You feel your face heat up from under the thick mask.

“If only you had a mirror. You should see the way you look at Levi. It’s so obvious, even Nanaba picked up on it.” They smirk as they twist in your direction, resting their chin on a hand that sits propped up on the armrest. A wide smile carved up and into their eyes.

“What happened last night anyways that made you discover this known secret?” Hange already knew, they had to have. Their demeanor changed from worried to curious in the blink of an eye.

‘Nothing.’ You sit back in a huff, closing your eyes.

You hear Hange sigh softly but doesn’t press for the next half hour. Your body sinks deeper into the plush massage chair as your head sits back on the head rest. Off to the side, you hear the soft babbling of the fountain piece that pairs wells with the gentle spa music that floats from the ceiling speakers down to your ears. Your brain wanders and you feel the heaviness that comes with sleep about to settle in.

“Excuse me?” A sudden voice startles you. You pop an eye open to see a spa employee in mint robes standing in front of the chairs you and Hange were relaxing in. “It’s time to move on to the hot pools, are you both ready?”

“Oh yes!! I’ve been looking forward to this part.” Hange exclaims, practically throwing themselves out of the chair.

The steamy mineral water stings your skin upon first contact. It wasn't uncomfortably hot, but it was close. It takes you a few seconds to get used to it and before you know it, you’re sinking low until your nose is submerged. Only your eyes and up show, like a crocodile floating as it hunts. You had put your hair up so that it wouldn’t get wet, but a few loose strands decide they want to get wet anyways as they float around your face.

Your sister, on the other hand, does not take the gentle approach. Before you know it, they’re running down the ramp ass naked. They throw themselves into the water when they get deep enough, throwing water straight in your face. Luckily, the pools are slotted out by appointments so it’s just the two of you in the small, enclosed room. They disappear for a second, submerged in the water leaving only ripples behind that float across the top.

“Are you going to tell me what happened now?” Hange’s low voice comes from right next to you, causing your heart to skip a beat. Despite the unnerving crawl of your skin, you side eye them and shake your head.

Their words bounce around in your skull. If even Nanaba picked it up, that would mean Levi knew too, right? Is that why he brushed you off this morning? This wouldn’t be the first time that he’s held things back from you, but you hoped that had changed in the last handful of months. A fleeting thought of going to him first zooms through your mind and disappears just as quickly.

“Did he kiss you?” Hange’s voice is so close that you feel the heat of their breath blowing right against your ear. You push back from instinct, swatting the water and subsequently splashing them in the face.

“Oh my, he definitely did. Look at your face!” Hange muses as they tread up closer to your face and there’s half a foot between noses. You shove at the tops of their shoulders and blow them a raspberry. They were ever persistent.

‘If you must know, he didn’t kiss me.’ You’re suddenly focused on the waterspout sitting opposite of you on the wall.

“Damn. I was rea-“

‘I kissed him.’

“Wha-?! You?!”

Without another word, you turn your back on their open-mouthed stare and head for the sitting ledge in the back corner. Steam rises off your warm skin as you do, merging easily with the rest of the hot air. Hange follows, mumbling under their breath as they process the news. When you twist to sit down, you’re face to face with Hange as they squat into the water across from you.

“I’m guessing by your reactions, it didn’t go well?”

‘He pulled away and gave me a weird look.’

“What did he say after?”

You don’t answer that, instead you slide into the water until you’re halfway submerged again. The hot water tingles against your raw face, making you wince until the uncomfortable feeling subsides. A few bubbles burst on the surface from your released huff.

“You didn’t give him a chance to, did you?” They raise an eyebrow at you. The amusement that tugged at their features melted away to reveal concern. You raise your hands out of the water, water droplets falling back in with little splashes.

‘He pulled away quickly and gave me a look that didn’t really scream “yay”. What was I supposed to do?’

“Sit and talk to him like the adult you are?” More bubbles pop at the surface as your eyes narrow at them.

‘What if he doesn’t want to talk? Or even see me? Or be my friend anymore?’

“Well, did he kiss back?”

‘I don’t know. I can’t remember. A lot was happening.’

“I imagine he did. He likes you too, you know.”

You roll your eyes at that. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. But that doesn’t change the shocked expression that he stared at you with before you ran off for the night. You feel the pressure of his lips on your mouth again and it makes your heart skip a beat. How confusing this all was.

“Want me to make him talk to you?” Hange says with a smirk on their lips.

‘Don’t even think about it. He’ll just kill both of us.’ You flick water in their direction at which they chuckle at it.

“Just give it some time, you’ll figure it out. But probably not too much time because this was a friend group before you both decided to catch feelings and I will not have this group break apart because you both want to be teenagers about it all.” They shrug their shoulders at that.

‘What happens if we never talk again?’

“Not allowed. I’ll lock you two in a room if I have to. Oh wait, maybe I should do that? Then you’ll either talk, fight, or kiss again.” They ramble on, tapping a forefinger on their chin as they think. Their eyes shoot over to yours, wide and full of excitement.

“If you both start dating, it’s for the long run by the way. Marriage or nothing. I can’t risk the friend group falling apart.” They joke. Part of you thinks there’s a bit of truth in their words but you let it slide. The prospect of marriage though? Was it your face heating up at the thought or the hot water?

You give them an exasperated look despite it all, offering them a thumbs down as well.

“I’m only half joking. You and him will figure something out eventually. Who knows, maybe it’s all a misunderstanding! You’re shy and he’s… well. Him. Maybe you just need to make the first move.” They offer you a small smile, their eyes softening again.

That fleeting thought from earlier comes back. Again, Hange’s words held some truth as they always do. You already made the first move and that didn’t work out the way you planned. But If Levi didn’t know to come to you, maybe you would have to open that door for him, granted he doesn’t slam it in your face. You decide you’ll do what you can to pull him aside tonight.

Much to your dismay, the appointment ends too quickly. Fortunately, Hange kept up with their promise of taking you shopping since there were a few hours until it was time to meet up with the boys who were no doubt still out golfing. You laugh at the idea of Levi standing on the greens with a signature bored expression, but then you remember you were supposed to be anxious. You don’t know what you’re going to say to him.

After a while, you forget your worries for a time. Hange finds a really nice pantsuit that frames their tall body well. You found a simple sundress that frills out on your waist in a color that your sister exclaimed matched your eyes so well. And it was nice being able to chat, that feeling of dread that coursed through your veins like ice forgotten.

That is until you’re standing in front of Levi with your hands twisting in each other – a nervous habit you picked up just recently. The fabric of your dress feels like it’s digging into your skin as you stand awkwardly, your heart feeling as if it might explode. He doesn’t even look your way, eyes glued to his phone as he mindlessly scrolls. The idea of getting him to talk to you falters.

He's wearing a slate gray dress shirt in a complementary shade for his eyes. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows neatly. The rest of his outfit is clean yet casual and perfect for the place Erwin had reserved. Some of his hair falls in his face as he continues to look down, ignoring the fact that Erwin was calling everyone to attention.

“Are we ready to go? The taxi is here.” Erwin gives you and Hange a once over when he looks up from his phone. “Wow, you both look like you had a good day - practically glowing.” He gives you a beaming smile and you force one back in return, feeling the quivering of your muscles as your lips pull back.

Levi glances up finally and his dark eyes scan the room. When they land on you, they linger for a second longer before he looks away as he pulls himself up from the barstool. You did not miss the subtle surprise that flashed across his face as well as his eyes flickering down to the sakura necklace you put back on for this evening. You had taken it off the last few days to keep it safe, something you were not used to doing before. You almost sighed in relief when you felt the familiar and subtle weight around your neck again.

The car ride to the restaurant was fortunately short but to you, it was agonizing the whole time. Erwin opted for the front seat to help direct the driver so that left you, Hange, and Levi in the back. Your sister forced you in the middle and they claimed it was for safety reasons but you knew better.

Your almost bare thigh sits against Levi’s after you all piled in, snug as can be. You pull your arms together so that you’re not squishing into Levi any more than you have to. He’s facing the window, arm propped up and leaning against it as he looks out. You spend the whole ride rehearsing what you wanted to say to him.

When the taxi parks in front of the restaurant, you take a deep breath. It was now or never, you tell yourself. You force yourself out of Levi’s side after he slides out, having to push the door as he almost shuts it in your face.

You’re able to reach far enough to grab his wrist to make him stop and he spins on you quickly, eyes flaring with annoyance – barely softening when he notices it’s you. It takes all of your strength to keep your fingers latched on to him despite the look on his face. After a moment, he helps you out of the car with that same hand, making sure to keep you steady as you almost trip on the curb.

‘Can we talk?’ You sign quickly.

He considers you, eyebrows pinched the way they do.

“Tch. We don’t have time, Hange and Erwin are waiting for us.” He finally grumbles back, eyes aimed at the retreating figures now walking through the double glass doors. He turns on his heels and leaps up the stairs, leaving you and your hurt feelings at the bottom.

So much for trying.

Even in your sour mood, you still appreciate how beautiful the restaurant is from the outside. It’s very high end with a large crystal chandelier peeping out of the tall windows that make up the majority of the front wall. The railings of both sides of the stairs are adorned with growing vines and colorful flowers. A simple sign in neat cursive hangs above the front doors, reading ‘La Crevette’. You raise an eyebrow at that but say nothing before making your way into the air-conditioned interior alone.

The inside is even better. The gold inlay that decorates the white marble adds a delicate and elegant tone. On the walls sit ceiling high mirrors that you can’t help but stare in as your eyes scan the new surroundings. You catch Levi’s eyes in the reflection before he turns away to follow the hostess who is now leading you all to your designated table.

To say that the atmosphere at the table was so tense you could cut it with a knife would have been an understatement. You find yourself sitting across from Levi - at least 5 feet away. The chill emanating from him makes you shiver and you wish you had brought a jacket with you.

Orders were already taken so now you sit in silence as Hange and Erwin compare the activities they both did today. Levi’s fingers drum against the clothed table as he stares out the window to the left of you. It looks out into the ocean, the setting sun painting the sky, those beautiful oranges and pinks that you liked so much. You fidget with the napkin that sits across your lap in tight fingers as you stare. Erwin calls your name.

“So how did you like the spa? Did they take care of you as well?” His clear eyes stare into yours with interest.

You smile politely and nod, signing along saying ‘They did, it was quite luxurious. Thank you for setting it up for us.’ He smiles back and chuckles.

“Hange said the baths were really nice. We might have to stop by one before we leave town, huh Levi?” The attention is now diverted onto a very bored looking Levi. He only hums in response, shrugging his shoulders as well.

‘You look like you got quite a bit of sun today.’ Your smile wavers as you eye him. There’s a soft flush across his cheeks as well as his nose and forehead. His gaze flickers up to you and you think you spot conflict in his steely eyes.

“I forgot a hat.” He says back, his curt tone a little too sharp for you. You pretend to not hear it. Your eyes fall onto your water glass after that, Hange and Erwin going back to talking about the other things they did today.

By the time dinner comes and disappears, the tense atmosphere barely stagnates. You sense Erwin and Hange can feel it too, but they don’t say anything. The only things you’re given are looks, ranging from curiosity to what you imagine is understanding. You don’t blame them though, this is really something that you and Levi need to hash out. Anxiety gnaws at your chest as you continue to pull on the thin fabric of your dress.

Eventually, the waiter comes with the check and hands it over to Erwin per his request - you all knew better than to argue with him about it. When Erwin hands the black book back with his card of choice, the waiter takes it and leans over to start gathering dishes out of the way. As he reaches from behind you, the feeling of his sleeve brushing against the side of your neck makes you stiffen up. When he pulls away, a small pop resonates by your ear.

The lack of weight around your neck is instantaneous. You watch in silent horror at your favorite necklace plopping into your lap softly. Everything goes quiet as you pick up the chain in shaky fingers, almost losing the sakura pendant as you do. The sight of the delicate golden chain now broken in a place that would not be an easy fix makes you feel like someone is stepping on your chest - crushing you.

You feel hot tears rolling down your face and you blink hard a few times. You’re in too much shock to make a sound. The waiter’s incessant apologies come muffled as realization dawns on you. You should have kept it tucked away and safe. You shouldn’t have kissed Levi. This necklace is you and Levi right now. Broken necklace, broken friendship. Your fault. All of it is your fault.

Placing it on the table gently, you force another sweet smile, one that closes your eyes and you feel more tears pressing out as you do.

‘I’m going to get some air.’ You sign.

Before anyone can protest, you push your chair out and away from the table, bumping into the still apologizing waiter. You sign a few hard apologies yourself before running down the ramp to the host station and out the front doors. Your feet take off down the street in the direction of the condo, tears streaming still but not a single sob escaping your lips.

A hand closes around your wrist, the force of your speed almost knocking you back as someone holds you still. The firm grip is telling enough that you don’t have to look around to see who it is, but you do anyway. Levi is out of breath from running after you, chest heaving and hair windswept.

“Where are you going?” His voice is stern and laced with annoyance.

You only shake your head in response, still feeling the tears rolling down your cheeks and off your chin. You have no energy left for a fake smile and his subtle annoyance feels like another knife in the chest. You’re not sure if it was the exhaustion, the necklace, or Levi, but you feel inexplicable rage boiling over. Ripping your arm out of his grip, you start signing roughly.

‘Why are you here?’

“I’m worried about you. You’re upset.” His steely eyes cut into yours, narrowing.

‘You could have fooled me. It seems to me you want nothing to do with me, ignoring me the way you have all day. What do you want?’ He flinches at that, surprised by your less than normal aggression.

“I-I’m sorry. I just don’t…” He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back and out of his face. He stumbles through his words, something you’ve never seen him do. But you can’t think about that right now, your patience is thinning and you can’t face him if he still refuses to acknowledge the hurt he’s dealt to you even if he didn’t realize it.

‘‘I can’t fix it.’ You sign shakily, fingers fumbling over each other.

“I’ll take a look at it. And if it’s not fixable, I can just get you a new one.” It dawns on you that Levi doesn’t understand, and you’re not certain if he ever did.

‘I’m not talking about the necklace, Levi!’ You’re in the middle of the sidewalk slamming your hands together as people rush past you two. As always, it feels as if it’s just you and Levi and everyone else are blurring streaks in the background. This time, it doesn’t feel as pleasant.

He doesn’t say anything back, choosing to stare with his lips parted as if he wanted to.

‘Why won’t you just talk to me? I thought you trusted me with yourself.’

“I do. Trust you, I mean.”

‘Then talk to me!’

“It’s not that simple.”

‘Right.’ You don’t give Levi a chance to refute as you turn around swiftly and start off in the direction of the condo, head hung low as you do your best to sniffle quietly. Fortunately, no one looks your way as you shuffle down the sidewalk.

Different layers of pain pile on your shoulders and you’re not sure how you’re going to get out from under them. The worst of them all seems to seep into your heart in a heavy way, weighing you down so much that you’re surprised you make it back to the elevator of the condo without collapsing. When the doors shut in front of you, you allow yourself to finally fall apart like you’ve been wanting to all day, sobs racking from deep within your chest.

The moment you get into the bedroom, you slam the door behind you and prep for bed. The lingering sunlight filters through the room, painting the room gold. You didn’t care what time it was, you just knew you were ready to pass out from the day.

As you loosen your hair from the multitude of pins sticking in it, you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Your eyes are bloodshot, the skin around them puffy. At least you don’t have to do much since your tears broke down most of the makeup already, only needing the gentle swipe of a cloth. The moment after you slip on your sleepwear, you toss yourself into the soft sheets of your temporary bed and curl in on yourself.

The hurt from last night comes back tenfold. Only this time, frustration burns under your skin. Before you know it, nightmares come to you in the form of dark slate grays.

The next time your eyes open, they’re met with darkness. You’re not sure if the moon decided to stay away or if the clouds had rolled in during your slumber, but regardless your vision is pitch-black. Soft snoring to your right indicates that Hange had made it back and is currently deep in sleep. You vaguely recall hearing them calling out to you when they came back shortly after you fell asleep.

Rolling onto your back, you are greeted with the dim red light from the alarm clock illuminating the ceiling. You imagine it’s quite late in the night considering how refreshed you feel despite the lingering melancholy from dinner.

With a huff, you sit up and swing your legs off the bed. Your bare feet hit the cool, hard floor and you make quick yet quiet work of sneaking out of the bedroom. You know Hange could sleep through anything, but you did not want to suffer on the off-chance they woke up – you were not prepared to face them right now.

After closing the bedroom door, you pad over to the fridge and pull it open. The only drink options were a couple of beers and a handful of caffeinated sodas. You wish you had a cup of Levi’s tea in your hands, but instead you opt for water from the filtered pitcher. After taking a tentative sip of it, you decide that going back to sleep was not an option for you. You kick yourself for potentially screwing up your sleep schedule for the rest of the trip but that was a problem for future you.

With a cold glass in hand, you step over to the plush couch and sink into it. Grabbing the remote in the other, you turn it on and flinch as you’re met with a loud commercial about an action movie coming out soon. Quickly, you turn the volume down to one and sit still as you listen for any sounds of your roommates – luckily it stays silent. You sigh softly.

You pull over a blanket from the other side of the couch and tuck yourself in. You let your mind wander for a bit as a random movie starts to play, the low volume buzzing in the background. Thankfully, your thoughts stay away from Levi. That is, until you watch as a teacup is placed down on the glass coffee table in front of you with a clink as well as delicate fingers pulling away from the handle.

Blinking the glassiness from your vision, your eyes trail up the muscular arm that belongs to a weary-eyed Levi. His gaze shifts away quickly as he lowers himself on the other side of the couch as far as possible from you. He lifts his own teacup to his lips and takes a small sip, eyes forward on the movie ahead.

He doesn’t say anything to you, which you’re not certain if you should be grateful for, or annoyed. You were thinking about wanting some of his tea earlier, but now that it’s here, you’re torn between indulging him or not. As your eyes narrow on the steam that rises off the amber liquid, Levi pipes up finally.

“I didn’t poison it, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He mumbles. You flicker your eyes over to him, but his gaze stays glued to the TV in front.

You let out a soft huff and reach for it, taking the handle in between two fingers and pulling it up to your mouth. Upon the first sip, you withhold a sigh of content. Levi always knew how to make a mean cup of tea. But you won’t say that to him right now. You’re still fuming, tea or no. With that thought, you down it the best you can despite the scorching heat of it as it burns itself down to the pit of your stomach.

You stand when you’ve finished, placing the cup back onto the saucer and then turning around to fold the blanket back up. The space is turning tense by the second and you don’t want to deal with this right now. After placing the blanket on the armrest, you reach down to grab your tea set as well as Levi’s, but his hand stops you as his fingers close around your wrist once again.

“Stay. Please? I want to talk.” You side eye him, noting the nervousness in his eyes. If it wasn’t for that, you would have stormed off. For once, it seems Levi is ready to talk, and whether you were ready or not, you needed to listen.

Setting the saucers back down, you sit on the other side of the couch again, facing him with your arms placed over your chest. Only now do you realize you’re still in a nightgown that barely covers your ass and no bra. Trying to be natural about it, you grab the pillow that sits in the middle of the cushion and pull it to your chest to cover up.

“Are you having trouble sleeping?” He rubs the back of his neck as he watches you. His anxiety looks like it’s about to overflow.

‘Is that really all you want to talk about? Small talk?’

“No! Of course not.” He grumbles. He mirrors you, folding his arms across his chest. He’s getting defensive again.

‘Then what do you want?’ You click your tongue in annoyance.

“I don’t know wha-…” He falters.

‘You do know what you want. You just won’t say it.’

“It’s not that simple.”

‘But you know, don’t you? What is holding you back? What is making this so difficult for you to talk to me?’ Your signs come out more forceful than you meant.

His arms fall into his lap as his focus darts to the tv off to the side. You eye him warily and purse your lips while you wait for him to continue, which he does after sighing heavily in frustration.

“I’m afraid, okay? I’ve never felt so conflicted about stuff like this before. But I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you all day. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you, I just didn’t know how to face you. Or what to even say to you.”

“I’m sorry.” he says quietly, shifting his gaze back to your face.

The look in his eyes is chock-full of anxiety and panic. Your fingers are flying before you can stop them. The strong walls of anger you had put up for protection start crumbling away, making room for disappointment as well as regret for making him feel this way.

‘I shouldn’t have kissed you, I’m sorry to have caused you so much strife.’ You bite the inside of your cheek.

Levi scoffs at that, his gray eyes cutting over to you, narrowing. He doesn’t say anything right away, instead using this moment to shift on the couch until his knees are against his chest as he faces you a couple feet away.

“Don’t be sorry.” He whispers finally, dark eyes piercing into yours.

‘You’ve been brushing me off all day. It’s because I kissed you when I shouldn’t have. You hate me. And you regret it even now.’ You feel the tears from earlier start to well again, but you refuse to let them spill in front of Levi.

“Why would I hate you?”

‘I just feel like I ruined our friendship with my actions, and you wouldn’t talk to me about it so I also feel like you want nothing to do with me because of it.’

“I don’t hate you.” He mutters, eyes shifting away before jumping back to yours. “I could never hate you.”

‘Then why won't you talk to me?’

Levi gets up abruptly and starts pacing back and forth in front of you with his shaky fingers raking through his hair. The anxiety radiating off him is palpable.

“It’s hard to put into words.” Levi says simply. A scowl appears as he pinches the bridge of his nose between fingers. He continues to pace, eyes half closed as he mutters to himself. You hear something about ‘not being used to this’ and ‘being blindsided’.

You lean forward and grab his pant leg with tight fingers. His sweatpants’ waistband slides down his hip from the sudden force of your grip, immobilizing him unless he wanted them pulled down any further. His steely eyes snap to your troubled expression and he softens immediately, hands dropping to his sides.

‘Just try.’ You give him your best pleading eyes, bottom lip jutting out as far as it can go.

Levi side eyes you as you hold him in place, his lips pinched into a thin line. He opens his mouth as he attempts to figure out what he wanted to say next. It takes a few tries but eventually, he settles on the last thing you’d expected him to say. It’s like his naturally stoic demeanor melts into something completely unrecognizable – not like you were complaining.

“When you kissed me, it was like I understood everything and nothing at the same time. I was so confused.” Levi mutters under his breath, sitting back down on the couch but this time on the cushion closest to you. His thigh brushes up against your knees, sending tingles up your spine from the sudden contact.

“Ever since you’ve stumbled back into my life, I couldn’t understand why you were always on my mind. I think I do now.” He continues without missing a beat. “I think I’ve always cherished you in some capacity, just in different stages.” Levi places his face in his hands that were propped up against his knees. After a few seconds, his head turns to you with a familiar expression. The way he looks at you reminds you of the little boy next door all those years ago.

“Leeeeeviii!!” You yell as you bound down the front steps without a care in the world. Your brother and Levi currently sit on the lawn, messing around with their action figures who were currently in a heated battle. In your excitement, you completely miss the bottom step and stumble down onto your hands and knees, rough concrete digging into your skin.

The wails that come out of you are loud enough that the dogs across the street start barking. A pair of hands are on you in an instant, helping to pull you up and onto the bottom step that had caused you so much trouble in the first place.

“I’ll go get some bandages.” Your brother says in a panic, running up the stairs and back in the house you had just come out of.

“You’re okay, it’s just some scratches.” You look up through blurry lashes to see Levi staring at your bleeding knees. You’re not going to bleed out, but crimson is trickling down your legs and it’s enough to make you cry harder.

Levi takes your little hands into his slightly bigger ones and inspects them. He brushes off the small gravel that had embedded itself into your skin, his tongue stuck between his teeth in focus. You observe him as best as you can despite the salty water obscuring your vision. Levi’s eyelashes flutter across his cheeks as he turns your hands over to get a better look at them.

“Not cut, just a little dirty. Nothing that can’t be fixed.” He says softly to you. Blue-gray eyes look up into yours and you realize you stopped crying. He offers you a lopsided grin as he squeezes your hand a few times.

“See? Not broken. You’ll be okay.”

He was always so calm with you. You shoot him a toothy grin while squeezing his hand back a few times. So calm. So safe.

“Levi, I’m never letting you go.”

You laugh at the sudden memory that flashes before your vision. You’re grateful for Levi in many ways, despite the fact he made you mad sometimes. Memory recovery was one of the reasons why. Levi’s eyes widen at your sudden outburst.

“What?”

‘Remember when I ate shit outside of my house when we were kids?’

He hesitates as he thinks.

“Which time?” His lips twitch at his comment and you realize it probably wasn’t the first time you had fallen. You appreciate your resilient nature as a kid, taking note of the small scars that probably decorated your knees even to this day.

‘Levi, I think there’s always been a part of me that’s always felt safe with you. And, I think having a future without you in it, no matter what that means, isn’t something I want to see. So, I think that’s why I was so torn up about this. The idea of you leaving just tears me apart.’

Levi sits up at your confession, staring at you in curiosity. There’s a new look of assurance on his face as he eyes you. A pink flush creeps up his neck and into his cheekbones as he focuses back on the colorful screen ahead.

“I don’t have any plans to leave.” He mutters.

There’s more silence, only cut up by the voices on the television and distant crashing of waves from down below. You watch him closely as he blinks slowly, propping his chin up in both arms that sit against his thighs. Before you can sign again, he speaks softly.

“I don’t regret it.” He side-eyes you, as if he were afraid to face you for such a statement.

‘What do you mean you don’t regret it?’

“It means I don’t regret that you kissed me.”

‘Did you want me to kiss you?’

Silence.

“You should probably get some sleep. I’m sure tomorrow will be just as exhausting. We can talk more then.” Levi says quietly, changing the subject.

You narrow your eyes at him, annoyed he would close up after so much progress. But then a yawn so big escapes your mouth and you shove your face into the pillow you were still hugging until it’s done. When you look back up, you see Levi watching you in amusement before his expression changes into indifference quickly. Maybe this would be best saved for the next day when you were both awake.

‘What about you?’

“I don’t sleep much, you know that. I’ll be okay.” He shrugs his shoulders as he gets up from the sofa. He reaches for the remote and turns off the tv then carefully places it back on the coffee table. Then he turns around to offer you a hand which you take, still hugging the pillow to your chest. He raises an eyebrow at that but turns on his heel to head to his bedroom. With a soft sigh, you place the pillow back and follow him down the hallway to your room.

The need to figure out what was going through his mind was strong, but your exhaustion hits harder. As you pass the kitchen, you note the time was about to hit five in the morning which means you have been up for a while. Despite the amount of sleep from earlier, you feel your body giving in to the heaviness of fatigue – no doubt a consequence of having such a taxing day.

You watch as Levi stops outside of his door, right hand gripping the doorknob in white knuckles. As you pass him, you reach over and place your hand on top of his. When his eyes fall on you, you offer a small smile.

‘What’s wrong?’

Before you can pull away, Levi says your name and stares over at you with longing.

“What am I to you?”

With shaky hands, you sign back, ‘What would you like to be, Levi?’ Adrenaline courses through your veins like lava at the sudden question.

“Yours.” It’s so soft, barely audible. And yet so full of conviction.

Levi looks down at your lips quickly before jumping back up to your eyes. In a swift motion, he releases the doorknob and grabs your hand, pulling you in closer to him with sudden force. His gaze is as firm as the grip on you, holding you in place. When he speaks again, his words come out measured.

“You’re right, I do know what I want. My answer is yours. I want to be yours.”

Your eyes widen at the sudden confession, and you stare at him with your lips parted in surprise. As if time slowed down, just like in the elevator, Levi tilts your chin in his direction - pinching it gently between his thumb and index finger. He leans in slowly, his eyes staring into yours as he wavers inches away. Levi is so close to you that his hot breath hits your face, and you smell hints of his black tea and traces of pine.

“And I want to kiss you. Is that okay?” You nod, dazed by his proximity.

Carefully, his mouth meets yours and you instantly distinguish the difference between this kiss and the one in the elevator. This one is hesitant, nervous. But traces of ravenous hunger linger as an aftertaste.

That same heat blazes from your face all the way down to your toes. Levi’s fingers move from your chin to right under your jaw, tilting your face into him even more. After a moment, he breaks away granting you a moment to catch your breath. His face is still inches from yours, gray eyes fluttering closed as your forehead rests against his. Your name tumbles out of his mouth, almost like a beg.

“I need to know.” He pulls away from you, the air around you instantly turning cold from the lack of his presence. “Will you let me?”

‘Let you what, Levi?’ You know what he wants, but you just want to hear him say it again. And again and again and again.

“Let me be yours.” Your smile would have blinded the whole world.

‘Mine.’

He leans in again, cupping your whole face in his calloused hand and locking his lips back over yours. The hunger intensifies just like the buzzing throughout your whole system. You open your mouth slightly to let his tongue in to explore and it does, eliciting a quiet moan from you. You swear you hear Levi growl in response. Oh, how touch starved you two were for each other.

As if in sync, Levi opens the bedroom door and you both stumble still lip-locked into his room. He pushes you up against the door, shutting it behind you. If you weren’t so lost in the kiss, you would have been worried by how loud the slam must have been. Levi presses up against you more, sandwiching you between the heat of his body and the cool wooden door behind you. You already feel how hard he is under his sweatpants.

You’re more inexperienced than most so there’s hesitation in your kiss – something Levi picks up on quickly. He pulls away but leaves his hands on your face as he looks at you with apprehension.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to tonight.” He whispers to you. His voice is as sincere as it always is, albeit husky. You place a hand over his that sits on your face, leaning into it as you do before signing back.

‘I want all of you.’ You offer a loving smile, wide and full of adoration for the man in front of you. Levi’s eyes bounce back and forth between yours as if searching for something. He finds nothing but pure truth.

Levi’s lips crash back onto yours, careful but just as heated. As his marred lips leave and make their way down your neck, one of your hands slides up his chest to his undercut until your fingers find what they were looking for, tangling in his raven hair.

The moment you feel his teeth pinch your soft skin, another moan comes out louder than before. Having him pressed up against you like that, the outline of his cock pressing into your stomach, you start to feel your patience slowly unraveling.

Your nervousness flies out the window. This was Levi, you had no reason to worry. Levi is safe to you. He would take care of you as he always does. And you would do the same. The thought makes you smile up at the ceiling. Before you know it, your hands push against Levi’s soft skin, and he pulls away quickly. Worry pools into his dark eyes as he watches you carefully.

“Is everything okay?” He murmurs hoarsely.

Instead of signing back, you force him to step back towards the bed with your palm pressed against his chest until the back of his knees hit the edges of the mattress. The force alone makes him lurch back so that he falls back onto the soft duvet, catching himself on his hands so that he’s sitting up.

In a swift motion, you straddle his hips, and your lips find solace on his mouth yet again. You don’t hesitate to push your tongue through to taste him again, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing yourself into him more.

You don’t mean to, but you find your hips grinding on to him, the only barriers between your already soaked self and Levi being the clothes you wish were off. The pressure and friction against your very sensitive core make you pull away for breath. Levi’s soft grunts are music to your ears and his lips start trailing back down your neck, his teeth finding purchase in your soft skin yet again. His fingers slide up your back, pulling your night dress up with it.

Then a groan comes out of his clenched teeth, full of frustration.

Levi pulls away again and stares up at you with heavy-lidded eyes full of impatience. You note that pink flush of his that you love so much, deeper in color and painting across his cheeks. As you stare down at him, you come to love this version of Levi and you want nothing but to see his face contort at the way you grinded into him. But he places his hands on your hips to keep you still, much to your dismay. You watch him carefully as he speaks, his voice husky.

“I-uh. I want this, I do. But we need to be safe. And I didn’t bri-“ He averts his gaze, staring at the corner of the bed. You were so lost in the exhilaration of it all, you didn’t think about it. A thick appreciation for him crashes over you because his cautious nature, even if it did slightly kill the heat of the moment.

‘Give me a second. I can help with this. Stay here.’ You give him a chaste kiss before sliding off his lap and out the door quickly. You tiptoe your way back to your room, making sure the only sounds that can be heard are the clock ticking on the wall and the muffled continuous crashing of waves just outside.

When you slip into your room, you see Hange flat on their back with their hair tousled everywhere. Soft snores escape their lips, a telltale sign they are out like a light. Hange wasn’t promiscuous in the slightest, but they weren’t closed minded either. And with that, it meant they stayed prepared.

You creep over to their unorganized suitcase where clothes were strewn all over the place. Reaching into the top compartment, your fingers feel the sharp edges of a foil package and slip it out. You blush to yourself as you think back to Levi’s outline as you make sure it’s the right size.

A snort from behind you makes you freeze in place, breath hitched as you sit crouching in silence. A moment passes. Another minute. Hange’s snores fill the room again and you let loose your held breath, shoulders sagging. You’re sure this conversation would come up again later, but you didn’t want to deal with it right now. Especially with Levi waiting for you.

It takes you next to no time to slip out of your room and back into Levi’s, closing his door with a soft click. Turning around, you show him the condom in between pinched fingers and smile widely to Levi who was still sitting on the edge of the bed for you.

“Did you come prepared?” He raises an eyebrow at the glittering foil.

‘No, but Hange do-‘

“I don’t need to know any more.” Levi blurts out, hands up in defeat. A silent laugh shakes your shoulders as you make your way back over to him. You fling the package onto the bed before straddling him again, noting how hard he was underneath you still.

‘Now where were we?’ You sign with a small smile. Levi smirks and places his hand against your cheek, his thumb tracing your bottom lip gently. You playfully nip at him, and he huffs in amusement.

“You’re breathtakingly beautiful, you know that?” He asks you softly before pulling your face into his and locking his lips on yours. It’s a saccharine-laced kiss. His hands find your hips again, lowering until they are fully on your ass, and they squeeze. A squeak escapes into his mouth as he does, and it just makes his grip on your skin tighter.

Pulling away, you grip his t-shirt from the bottom and start tugging it up. Levi leans back so you can pull it up and over his head, discarding it on the bed next to him. Your hands trail down his toned chest and abs, his skin burning under your touch. It’s soft despite the hard muscles underneath them. Your mouth finds his again as your hands explore, not hesitating to slip your tongue into Levi’s already parted lips.

Your hands find their way back in his hair, fingers entwining through the fine strands. You can’t help it – you tug gently, and a small whine comes out of his pouty lips as he’s pulled away from your mouth. Something inside you burns and again you feel your razor thin patience cutting at you.

As if Levi reads your mind, he wraps an arm around your back while leaving his other hand cupping your ass and stands up effortlessly. In a mere moment, he turns around with you in his strong arms and then gently tosses you on to the bed. A soft laugh escapes you as you land. Everything around you smells like Levi.

Levi stands at the foot of the bed and stares down at you ravenously, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen on anyone outside of the movies on your television screen. You sit up on your elbows and watch as he gets on the bed and slowly makes his way on top of you. He meets your lips with his own as his body hovers over yours, his fingers lightly trailing up your arms resulting in goosebumps following in their wake.

Slowly, you lie back down flush to the mattress, his knees digging into the sheets on either side of your thighs. Levi’s lips start to slide down your jaw which gives you some space to breathe but your breaths quickly turn into soft whimpers as his fingers lightly trace across your lower abdomen. His other hand snakes around the back of your neck, supporting it as he starts planting more soft kisses down it.

“You can stop me at any time, okay?” Levi whispers, his hot breath tickling your neck. You nod, only wishing you had your voice to say his name and tell him you wanted him. As long as he was with you, you would always want him.

Levi’s hand that was teasing your waist makes its way back up to the lacy lining that adorns the edge of your nightdress, long fingers tugging down the thin fabric that holds your breasts in place. You’re glad Levi isn’t watching your face because you are multiple shades of embarrassment.

But Levi doesn’t say anything, instead he takes a breast in hand and massages it gently as his kisses start trailing down past your collarbone. Before you know it, his soft lips clamp around your already very sensitive nipple, eliciting a loud moan from you. You can’t help but dig your nails into the firm muscles of his back in response, dragging them down as Levi bites down gently. An exhale of hot air blows out of Levi’s mouth against your skin when you do that, a small grunt escaping with it.

You feel the absence of his lips immediately as his lips leave and the wetness left behind leaves your skin defenseless against the cool air. Levi softly kisses back up your sternum then pulls away, leaning forward on both hands that now sit on each side of your face. His tousled hair falls forward, creating shadows across his face as he stares down with that same hungry look, only this time it’s tinted with pure amazement.

“Still okay?” He whispers down to you.

You blink up at him and swallow hard. You were more than okay but as always, your words fail you. Instead, you nod and the hands that once dragged down his back are now trailing down his chest again. The feeling of his skin against yours sends electricity through your whole body, and you want more. You need more. Your hands flatten against right above his rapidly beating heart as you do your best to give him a look that conveys ‘more’.

“I’ve got you.” Those were the words he had muttered down to you the day before as you fell asleep in his arms on the beach. It wasn’t just cherishment that he held for you; it was deeper than that. Hange’s words from earlier flit through your mind, only briefly. How could you not have fully noticed until now?

He leans down and places his lips back on yours, soft and sweet. As your lips lock on to his, you feel his feather light touch trace back down to the elastic band of your underwear. But instead of teasing you like he had before, you feel his fingers dip under the cloth and further down to…

Any other thoughts racing through your mind cease to exist as his delicate fingers slide down your slick folds. You don’t mean to moan as loud as you do and fortunately Levi’s mouth muffles it for you. He hums in response to your reactions, smiling into the kiss.

Levi’s lips graze back down to just under your ear as his fingers rub small circles around your clit eliciting more moans from you. Your labored breaths fill the space as the white-hot heat from his touch reverberates throughout your whole body, tingling down to the tips of your toes. He whispers your name under a heavy breath, mutterings of how beautiful you are to him floating up to your ear. All sweet words mirror the moans you made.

You reach down to Levi’s hardened bulge that currently fights against the stretched fabric of his joggers. Your fingers close around him as much as they can through the thick cloth. Upon contact, Levi’s breath hitches. You give him a gentle squeeze resulting in a guttural groan that comes through his clenched teeth.

In response, his touch burns deep into your core as he carefully pushes a digit into your warm entrance, the palm of his hand applying pressure onto your swollen clit as he does. His movements are gentle as he pumps it in and out slowly, and you feel his finger curving up into a spot so good your toes curl. The euphoria turns into building heat, and you know what’s about to happen - but you wanted more. You wanted him now more than ever and this was not enough. More, more, more.

A soft whine comes out of you as your fingers tighten around him. A light huff tickles against your skin – Levi’s way of chuckling.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” He mumbles, his lips finding your earlobe and nipping at it gently. Reaching over with your other hand, you place your hand against his cheek and pull him up to you, planting your lips right onto his. It’s a hungry kiss, one conveying you were ready for him. You love him, you want him. You need him.

With that, Levi withdraws his hand and slides himself off you and the bed. You sit up and watch as he tugs down his pants along with his boxers. You knew what was coming and yet you couldn’t stop the blood rushing to your cheeks in shy embarrassment. You look away, staring at the ceiling as you hear Levi pick his clothes up including the shirt you threw on the bed, and then place them neatly on the dresser behind him. Your name quietly tumbles out his lips for your attention.

When you look up at him, you see him offering a hand to you. Your eyes flicker down for a mere second before going back up to Levi’s soft gaze. You feel as if you could faint on the spot.

Instead, you push yourself closer to the edge of the bed and take Levi’s hand. In a delicate flourish, you’re in his arms again and he pulls you in for another deep, lingering kiss. His fingers bunch at the bottom of your night dress and start lifting it up. You let him, pulling away enough so he can get the soft fabric up and over your head. He folds it and turns to place it next to his pants. When he circles back on you, he takes a moment to observe your half-naked self.

Being in your thin bathing suit was one thing, but to be standing there as the cool air conditioning drifted across your unprotected self was in a whole other universe. You shift your weight awkwardly and twist your arms together as you avert your gaze to the piled-on dresser.

Levi steps closer to you and takes both of your arms in a gentle grip and pulls them away from each other so that you’re exposed to him. You force your gaze on him despite how nervous you were to be in front of him. Levi’s dark eyes trail down your body but not in an ogling kind of way – he watches you with wonder.

“You’re just so beautiful. Every part of you.” He releases your arms, and his hands are back on you, sliding down your waist and landing on your hips. His fingers leave a trail of tingles. “I want you, all of you. If you’ll have me. Is that okay?” He whispers to you, pulling you by the hips into him. The length of his hardened self presses against your bare stomach as he does.

You sign that same simple word, ‘Mine’.

With that, Levi gently pushes you down into the bed with a hard kiss, leaning into you until your back is pressed against the mattress. He loops his fingers into the sides of your panties and tugs them down your legs, pulling away from you yet again to place them next to the rest of the discarded clothes. At that moment, he takes the time to rip a corner off the metallic package with his teeth, the foil discarded onto the dresser once done.

He grabs your hips again, this time pulling you flush to the edge of the bed as he stands at the foot of it. His hand makes its way to your thigh and his perfectly trimmed nails press into your soft skin as he holds you close. The tip of his cock teases your entrance and if you had a voice, you would have begged for it. As usual, you didn’t have to.

Levi leans down to you and kisses you slowly, teeth brushing against your swollen bottom lip. He places his other hand on the bed next to your head, using it to keep himself propped up. His hair hangs low as he hovers, already moist with sweat from the proximity and building body heat between the two of you. You use one hand to grip his forearm while the other hand slides up the back of his head and into his sweaty hair, fingers digging into his scalp. As the kiss deepens, so do his movements into you.

Levi slides himself in gently, using his hold on your thigh to control his speed. He lifts your leg up against his hip for a better angle but the sharp gasp from you stops Levi in his tracks. He stays there, feeling your warm walls hugging tightly around him.

He pulls away from the kiss and hovers over you again, looking down into your eyes with worry. It's been a while since you have been touched like this, let alone this intimate. You don’t think you’ve ever felt this loved. Levi makes this all so easy despite the anxious knot in your chest. You realize it isn’t just this that he makes easy, though. It’s everything around you. Every issue, every solution.

You imagine you’re looking at him just the same, a small smile etching into your flushed and hot face. Before he can ask again, you move your hand up and under his fingers that digs into the bed next to you. Lacing your fingers in with his, you squeeze his hand a few times.

A way to say you were okay and that you trusted him. And always would.

He looks down at you curiously but then realization dawns on him. His concern washes away to reveal his own version of adoration for you. It’s one of your favorite expressions on him by far.

In a breathless moan, Levi pushes himself all the way in. He presses his lips onto yours, muffling your moans that rise in volume as he slowly rocks into you. The hand he had on your thigh tightens as he pulls you into him more, quickening his pace slightly. The new angle hits a spot that almost puts you at the brink of finishing right then and there.

Levi lets go of your hand and moves his arm under your neck again, giving him the opportunity to trail his now sloppy kisses and teeth down it. Those razor-sharp teeth sink into your skin as one of his thrusts hit simultaneously. You bite into the back of your hand to keep yourself from wailing out and waking the rest of your roommates. The other hand that now sits against his sweaty chest digs into his skin, burying deeper with every thrust. It feels as if every part of your body burns like wildfire from his touch. Your name comes out in a groan this time, husky and deep.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful. You feel so good.” He buries his face into your collarbone as he moans your name again, shakily.

Levi thrusts soon become clumsy, feeling him slam into you inconsistently and with every hit comes more pressure against your clit. Heat builds into your core, the same as before. You’re pulling at his hair, in an attempt to warn him you were close. Throaty curses leave his lips as you both feel each other tense up.

In an instant, it’s like the world crumbles around you as you hit your limit. The walls surrounding Levi clenches as each wave of pleasure rolls through your whole system. Your orgasm sends Levi over the edge and in one deep thrust of his hips, you feel his body shudder as his moan almost turns into a whine. His teeth bite into you again as he rides through his own climax, filling up the condom within you.

Levi releases your leg and lets it fall gently against the bed before collapsing on top of you. He uses an arm to keep himself propped up enough to not suffocate you with his body weight. You focus on the heavy panting emanating from the both of you as you come down from your high. His heart beats in sync with your own against as he lays on top of you, digging his face into the crook of your neck.

You wrap your arms around his head and hold him close, despite the heat and sticky sweat between your bodies. Levi nuzzles his nose into sweaty soft skin and chuckles, low and hoarse. You both continue to lay like that until the breathing slows down to a normal pace. The next time he speaks, his voice is so soft and barely audible that you almost miss it.

“I love you too.”

☾ Previous Chapter: June - Part 3 ☾ Next Chapter: June - Part 5 [Final]

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vacantgodling · 2 years ago

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Okay now I wanna know about Amon/Di, Hya/Toph, Amon/Toph, and Hya/Di, like who works the best and who's a disaster?

OHHHHH INTRIGUING. the funny thing about the four of them is they’re all kind of?? similar in some ways to each other. but different at the same time lol. i like to refer to toph & di as the og amon & hya bc i made them first HOWEVER there’s key differences between all of them in the morality and vibe department but anyway enough prelim ramble

AMON & DI: like tbh they’d be really chill with each other but the chemistry would just not fucking spark unless they were fighting and bc they’re both just a twinge too logical to fight for no reason it’s like hmm. you’re cool, ig? they’d get a lot of shit done and a lot of heads would be knocked but they’re bros lmao. HOWEVER, if i were to pair amon with the SUPER OG version of di where he could talk to animals and was kind of part wolf (long story) amon would be fucked he’s his type lmao. og di is rugged, an asshole and would absolutely beat you up for no reason and amon likes that. however di being into him is questionable bc di is such a pretty boy fucker LMAO. they struggle bc they have the same type and it’s not each other 💀 but they’d get along :)

HYA & TOPH: god they would get on each others NERVESSSSS SO MUCHHHHHH. and not in a way that they’re endeared to like how they are with their boys no; they’re too alike but too different at the same time lmao. they both bitch and cuss like sailors, don’t take shit from anyone, and Know that they’re right. but toph is a metal head and a demon and is absolutely all about the grunge so hya would piss him off for being too “prissy”. not only that but hya’s tolerance and morals are like Way Lower than toph’s and toph’s like ok i’ve been through shit but you’re an ass. and hya’s like i don’t really know where you get off thinking that just because you care about other people means you’re better. so like similar personalities but the morals clash and they’d just be bitching at each other non stop or it’s silent treatment no way in between.

i would genuinely prefer a amon/di escapade before a hya/toph LMAO.

AMON & TOPH: they’d work a little too well 💀 toph would actually get down and dirty and fight amon and while verbal fights do get him going, physical fights get him zero to 100 really fast. both of them have no qualms about fucking whenever and however so it’d just be all the time lmao. ntm they’re both pretty laid back—they don’t let things bother them unless they need to and when they’re bothered it’s all hands on deck to get this ASS WHOPPIN— they also have similar crass senses of humor and the banter is definitely tHere lol.

HYA & DI: a bit rough ngl. hya is a very hard person to get along with if you aren’t ready for him and while di would definitely be magnetized to hya from afar i think he’d think he was too intimidating to really approach. even if he were, the likelihood that hya would give him anything to work with is null and void. see, the thing about di is he’s actually pretty easy to read if you look enough, and with hya that’s kind of bad because if he can read you he can learn ways to avoid opening up to you. he can’t read amon well bc amon doesn’t make sense to him and lets a lot of hya’s bullshit roll off his shoulders so it inevitably ends with hya floundering for ways to push him away that he just can’t fucking find. but di? angel, he’s easy. he’s got a tell where he rubs his nose when he lies, he looks down and to the right when he’s uncomfortable, he gnaws his lips when he feels some type of way. hya would avoid opening up. and while di enjoys an intimidating partner (toph cough), he’s still a goody two shoes trying to learn to spread his wings. he needs someone more willing to approach him and meet him on his level which hya absolutely would not do lol. i doubt they’d even talk they have very little to go off of 💀

so in order of best to worst:

amon & toph — best

amon & di — pretty good but chemistry needs help

hya & di — by virtue of nothing happening

hya & toph — at each others throats actual disaster

#amon really is the only person who can handle hya #like he knows hya so intimately well and by the time hya learns him it’s too late he has feelings #di is an angel #he seems like he’s hot shit but he’s like SO ITTY #talking #oc tomfoolery #<- ig lol #tags lmao

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galadrieljones · 4 years ago

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writer’s review

tagged by @ma-sulevin and @a-shakespearean-in-paris. thank you! i’ve never done this one before.

I will tag @thevikingwoman @shallow-gravy @littleblue-eyedbirdchirps @roguelioness @pikapeppa and anyone who’d like to do this. Please tag me if you do!!

Rules: Post two snippets of your writing. The first should be one of the oldest examples of your work that you can find (the older the better!), and the other has to be an excerpt from something more recent. Compare the two side by side to see the difference between what your writing looks like now and how it did then.

Since I have way too much old writing from my life, I am just going to stick with my fanfiction. I chose to compare an excerpt from my older Solavellan work The Dead Season (2016) to my current The Last of Us fic As You Were (2020).

I put this under a cut, as it’s a little long!!

From The Dead Season - Chapter 8: The Emprise du Lion

For the first three nights, they’d had to camp in a quarry surrounded by the dead lit veins of red lyrium. The lyrium glowed through the fire, illuminating the snow, keeping everyone awake, bandaged and bruised, all four of them piled into the Inquisitor’s tent where nobody wanted to be alone. Death was too nearby, they decided. Things were better together. Exhausted, hardened, dirty, cold to the bone. Drinking warm ale brought in by Scout Harding’s people, gnawing pieces of rabbit Sene had hunted herself and then cooked on a spit. Iron Bull tried entertaining with mad stories from his stranger youth. He and Solas played whole games of chess through the power of memory alone, and Sera braided Sene’s hair, and asked her all kinds of questions about her childhood and her love for the elven man. She told her about Dagna, that the two had started a quiet affair, and she had such stories of Red Jenny and her foreign life as an elf of the city. Sene listened eagerly, all the time, finding Solas with her eyes, and he would give a small touch. Security in a place of death and blood in the snow.

Despite Sene’s dreams, whenever they slept in the Emprise du Lion, Solas held her with serious possession. He slept deeply when he drifted, without stirring, and his arms hardened around her as stone. A carefulness and new severity imbued them, each movement guessed and exchanged as mind-reading. Somehow, it felt new. Sera noticed one morning, as Solas helped Sene into her jacket: “You do that like it’s all you’ve ever done,” she said to him.

“Perhaps it is,” said Solas. “Perhaps each night I help Sene out of her jacket, and then each morning, I help her back in again. Would that shock you?”

“The two of you,” said Sera. “Like green on sky. Eggs on toast.”

“Interesting perspective,” he said.

From As You Were - Chapter 6: La Crosse (Pt. 1) / The Lapp Farm (Pt. 1)

Joel and Noah drove until they hit what looked to be the town. They parked at an O’Reilly’s Auto Parts, hauled their backpacks onto their backs, and loaded their guns. The signs continued, most of them nailed to other kinds of signs: COTHS, they read. C.O.T.H.S.

C O T H S.

La Crosse had never been a big city. Joel didn’t know a lot, but he could gather as much. It wasn’t big, but it was a college town, and that college was big enough to have a football team. It would have been home to a lot of people during the initial Outbreak, probably forty or fifty thousand, and it was probably a metro-hub for these little Driftless, farming towns, too, with a good hospital, warehouses, factories, and some semblance of a retail industry. It would have been a lot of meth, he thought. Maybe not so much in the city proper, but in the outskirts, in the tin cans and the trailer parks. As a city on the banks of the Mississippi, it would have pretty pockets but mostly, it was just franchises and mini-malls, like anything else.

But this was strange, thought Joel. The goddam of it was, it seemed empty. Really empty. Like, god no longer smiled upon this place, as if something evil had given up on this place, gone on its way. There was nothing. Nothing bad, nothing good. Just the trees, and the nature noises, the grasses, which had grown so tall, they engulfed the cars abandoned at the side of the road. There was a McDonalds sign, growing out of a massive, twisted heap of vines and bramble and it made Joel think of small things that still broke his heart from childhood. He pushed it down.

“This is fucking weird,” said Noah. The air smelled ripe in some places. Rotten. Like an overgrowth of mold in the washing machine. “What the fuck is that smell?”

“Something bad happened here,” said Joel.

“Hey, look,” said Noah. He was headed toward another one of the signs. It said: COTHS.

“Yep, another sign,” said Joel.

“No, look,” said Noah. He got closer. He had to snap a couple saplings to get to it. This sign was on the ground, leaning against a tree. He pushed back the tall grass, and the milkweed to reveal the rest.

Comparison: I settled on these excerpts because they are both descriptions of places and situations that are new to the characters involved. The biggest difference between my writing in 2016 and my writing now, as shown here, is that I have hugely simplified my prose and my approach to descriptive writing. Four years ago, I was still very flowery, and the dark, magical setting of Dragon Age only encouraged my dreamy, expansive sensibility. I used a lot of adjectives, figurative language, and fragments, and I tended to write big, sweeping descriptions of situations, rather than setting simple scenes. Tbh, I hadn’t really figured out scene-writing yet, at that point. It took me a while to realize how to make scenes do a lot of work in a short amount of time. Notice how I barely enter the scene in that first excerpt. It’s vague. It’s all happening at once. There is not really a specific scene being set in a specific setting at a specific time. I try to avoid that sort of thing now. While I don’t hate my old writing, and I think sometimes I do a nice job of hitting on the right atmosphere, my unwillingness to just enter the scene concretely is a little sophomoric and noncommittal here. Setting scenes is actually hard as hell. In doing this, I was avoiding the hard stuff without even realizing.

Now, I will say that while I am still improving, my writing has become much more concrete and to the point. I use figurative language, but I am much more judicious with my metaphors and similes. I prefer realism, it turns out. I want to describe true things, not ideas. Most of what I describe is there to build setting, whether it be through concrete description of place or a character’s actions in a place. Sometimes I will use my language to evoke a certain kind of atmosphere, but I try not to go overboard. I want my language to be practical, not tricky and overblown. I like strong, complete sentences (with the occasional fragment) and descriptions of specific actions and scenes in real time, rather than fragmented, dreamy language or a style that is overly stream-of-consciousness. I still use Free Indirect Style at times, and I will narrate thought, because I like going into my character’s heads, but I now practice much more stoicism. I do not let my readers know too much directly about what my characters are feeling. I find that this is much more true to what I want to evince with my writing. I now try to imply thought and emotion via what my characters do, what they don’t do, what they say, and what they see. Moving away from Solas, a very “talky” and intellectual character has helped me do this. While I love Solas, writing Joel and Arthur really improved me tenfold, as they tend to speak very little. They are not terribly ponderous in all they decide. They choose their words wisely and let their actions speak most of the time, helping me do the same.

In the past, my focus was almost always on language, ideas, and atmosphere. I wanted to evoke bigness at every turn. Drama, beauty, unfolding abstract ideas and feelings made of synesthesia, using my language to elevate simple feelings and ideas into something epic. But now, and maybe it’s just because I’m getting older or I have less time, idk, but I just want things to be what they are. I want to reveal feelings and themes, not evoke them through force. I want the scenes to speak for themselves. I let the reader do a little more work. I withhold much more. In fact, I rarely write interiority these days. Inner-monologue and emotions come sparingly. One sentence here and there. Never in rambling, abstract, unfurling paragraphs, which The Dead Season is full of. I am always reaching for economy now, and efficiency. It is better for me! Though I do play around still, from time to time, with my language. I will always be a little playful.

#on writing #my writing #the dead season #as you were #writer's review

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ckret2 · 5 years ago

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Gold Skin, Black Blood, and Stone Bones

Today, Ghidorah tells Rodan they’re starving for a very particular food: gold.

A long time ago, the Xiliens ensure Monster Zero can never escape by restructuring its digestive system with a strange dietary need: gold.

It's odd how often a gold craving can be solved with a little grave robbing.

Uhhhh happy halloween? Written (loosely) based on the prompts:

(June 19) Anonymous said: So there was a tweet about how in a way mothra was godzillas flag bearer (in addition to being his queen), how about a fic of ghidorah thinking about rodan being his or something similar?

(September 16) Anonymous said: Prompt: Waking Hour. Rodan wakes up first; explore both Rodan and Ghidorahs morning habits, what the two of them like to get up to in the early hours of the morning.

(October 14) @corruptapostasy said: Thanks to new information I have another Rodorah prompt idea. Ghidorah messily trying to shed, and Rodan helping them out by ripping all of the old skin off. By doing so, he sees the scars of the stitches lining their body from when they were fused together. Possible angst ensues.

as well as a long headcanon post from Sept 4 about what Ghidorah eats. (Answer: dirt and gold.)

This is part of an ongoing series of Rodorah one-shots. If you don’t wanna read the others... you don’t have to, but this fic builds on the others enough that tbh it’ll probably make more sense if you do. Quick note: Rodan goes by "Nido" because he refers to everyone by the name of their home volcano/island/etc but I ain't got the space to explain everything else from prior fics. If you wanna read this anyway and then get confused feel free to message me for context. If you wanna read this but the content warnings in the tags are for things you can’t handle message me and I’ll get you a version with that content removed. Links to the other fics are in the source at the bottom of this post.

###

Life around to Nido's volcano was settling into a familiar daily routine. Depending on what time he'd gone to sleep, Nido could get up long before the first light of day or long after the sun had crossed the horizon. The golden ones, who sometimes slept curled around the rim of Nido's crater and sometimes in a hollow at the base of the volcano, invariably rose exactly at sunrise, except on cloudy mornings. (They almost always went to sleep at sunset, too, except on nights they were waiting for him to return late. Like flowers that bloomed in the day and closed at night.)

On mornings when the golden ones were up before Nido and weren't out flying, Nido could usually tell before he'd opened his eyes. They'd almost always be at the northernmost point of the island, staring out at sea, singing. Quietly enough not to wake him or fill his dreams with strange emotions, but still loudly enough for him to catch occasional snippets of the melody—sometimes even a word or two if they were singing in his language. On such mornings, Nido would sleepily call them up to his nest, pull himself out of the lava, and let them nuzzle him to their heart's content, which always left the scales on their necks and faces streaked with fresh volcanic ash and left the armor on his wings, chest, and back decorated with golden stripes and facial imprints. They'd check his decorations and twist around to examine each other's faces and necks, and when they'd decided that both their decorations were satisfactory, the middle one would give him a good morning bunt; and then they would go about their separate business.

And from there, Nido decided what to do that morning.

Some days, if Nido saw the humans out and about on the sea scooping dead fish from the water, he'd help out—sometimes by scooping and dumping fish himself, sometimes by sweeping the fish drifting away into one area so the humans could more easily get it all in a couple of passes.

There should have been no more dead rising to the surface by then, a month and a half after the strange light that had killed everything in the water. And yet, every once in a while, another wave of dead creatures bobbed up. Nido has even seen a whale corpse recently. It wasn't natural. Nido didn't know a lot about what happened beneath the surface of the sea, but he knew that the dead shouldn't still be floating almost two months after they'd died. It meant they weren't rotting right, and that made him nervous. Quite a few things could go wrong in nature, but rot itself wasn't supposed to be one of them.

Nido had carried the whale corpse out to healthier water and dropped it there—he didn't want it near his island, too big for the humans to remove, too big to cremate in his volcano, and liable to rupture and blow rotten blubber and fetid gas all over the place at any time. He hoped it would rot properly and sink elsewhere in the ocean, and hoped he wasn't inadvertently helping spread some weird plague around.

Some days he traveled. He was slowly working his way over the two nearest continents—he'd started by heading southeast straight along the coast to Ponta do Seixas and then back to his island, and each day moved a little further clockwise around the compass, exploring a strip at a time. When he finished the nearest two continents, he would cross the volcanic trail via Alaxsxa and explore the larger continents out west bit by bit, as much at a time as he could without leaving his nest for longer than a night.

It wasn't the most thorough way to explore the area—you saw a lot of green and tan blurs when you were flying near cloud level and faster than sound, but you didn't pick up a lot of details. Right now, he only wanted to see how the land itself had changed while he'd hibernated. Details came later. He noted anything that looked interesting so he could come back and investigate more thoroughly once he'd finished his initial survey.

Some days he patrolled his territory. He was down to patrolling about three or four times a month at this point, now that the land and sea around his island were familiar to him again, and next month would probably only patrol it a couple of times. The human population was booming on his turf, he saw. It seemed it was booming everywhere.

And the sky was lousy with metal birds. He'd very much like to hunt them; but when he'd tried near home, the golden ones had shouted at him to stop, and then forcibly dragged him back to land when he didn't. After an argument that was rather prolonged by the fact that the golden ones didn't know the words for whatever it was they were riled up about, they managed to convey that they were trying to talk about humans, Nido taught them the word for the little creatures, and they'd claimed that humans rode around in the metal birds. He'd scoffed at the idea—but they'd told him to wait, flown off, come back with a metal bird carefully pinned in one talon so its wings were crushed but its body was whole, and had shown Nido where to peer through its transparent back to see the little human inside. It was the most disturbing thing he'd ever seen until he'd realized the bird was a fake.

He still wanted to hunt them—partially just to rip one open and see what was in its artificial guts—but the golden ones were paranoid around humans, and so for their sake he left them alone. He'd just chased them for a bit instead.

Some days, he'd investigate odd morning noises. Some days, he'd make quick trips to the nearest active volcanoes. Some days, he'd just roll down the side of a mountain for a while.

The golden ones, on the other hand, had developed their own routine as they grew comfortable on Nido's island. If left to their own devices, they'd spend late morning to high noon doing only one thing.

They preened.

Nido assumed it was preening, anyway. It was the same sort of motions that Nido used when he was preening himself, at any rate—when he was fresh from a bath and needed to sculpt the still soft lava into ridges and spines, or when he'd had a long day and needed to pick out bits of rubble that had flaked off from his armor or detritus that'd gotten wedged into cracks during a battle—and it was the same sort of motions he used on the golden ones when he was preening their necks and heads, which they seemed to enjoy just fine, even though they were really too smooth to need much of it. The point was, it looked like preening.

But it also looked excruciatingly painful.

They'd scrape their teeth against their scales viciously, sometimes hard enough that, on overcast days, Nido could see sparks produced where their teeth dug into the scales. They'd twist and contort themselves to reach whatever spot they thought needed attention, usually one of them scraping at the offending spot while another one bent around to keep an eye on the work—the most impressive position Nido had witnessed so far was when one of them had managed to get his head hooked behind their knee to gnaw at a spot alongside one of their tails.

Sometimes they only left grooves in the scales with their teeth, ugly-looking scratches in the soft metal surface that they covered up by leaving more grooves parallel to the first, until the grooves had combined into a single smoothed-out depression. Sometimes they'd dig the tip of a fang under a scale and rip it out completely. Sometimes—to Nido's perpetual horror—they'd bite straight down in to their scales, fangs piercing deep into the flesh, and carve out whatever surface imperfection had so offended them.

Their blood, Nido discovered, was black and slow-oozing, and left dark brownish-purple stains. And by late morning, it wasn't uncommon for them to be alternating between their vicious preening and licking at a dozen tiny bloody trickles running sluggishly down their scales.

They snarled, growled, hissed, and grunted with pain and frustration as they ripped at their thin armor, as though they were engaged in battle with each other but trying to keep quiet about it—and Nido would almost suspect that was the case, except that these strange sessions were clearly a tearm effort.

And when they were finished—Nido was hesitant to say "satisfied"—they'd climb the volcano, flop in the lava, and remain there until their bloody punctures had shut and their damaged scales had regrown.

They always waited until Nido left the island before they started preening—they wouldn't do it at all on the days he stayed on the island, and if he was patrolling nearby they didn't progress past leaving a few shallow grooves in their scales. Initially, they would stop completely whenever he came home. By now, they just ignored him, turning away as they preened—not in a way that prevented him from watching, but that prevented them from watching him watch—and hissed threateningly if they did catch him staring. He got the sense that they were ashamed of this near-daily ritual, but too ashamed of being ashamed to leave the island and find somewhere more private to do it.

Usually if Nido didn't understand something, he'd just embrace the bafflement. Not all things were for him to understand. But in this case, their preening habits looked so painful that he had to make sure nothing was wrong. He had waited until he actually managed to make eye contact with them as they climbing the volcano to recover before he dared ask them what, exactly, the point of all that was. They'd given him a resentful look, but explained that sometimes their scales would grow back crooked or misshapen and the easiest way to fix it was to rip them out and let them regrow properly.

"We are far from where we come from," they'd explained. "If something becomes wrong with our body, there is no one here who knows how we work on our inside. We have to be vigilant." ("Vigilant" was one of their favorite words; they pronounced it as four syllables.) "We fix a small problem before it is big. We stay healthy."

Nido had thought that sounded like a load of rubbish to him—in what way did ripping tiny wounds in their hides improve their health? How did straightening a few crooked scales balance out the fact that they spent most mornings with tiny open wounds that anything could crawl into?

But then, what did Nido know about three-headed mind-controlling flying singing golden sea serpents from outer space? Maybe they were genuinely combating some kind of deadly dermatological condition. If that was the answer they wanted to give, he had no choice but to grudgingly take them at their word.

He noticed they never disturbed the scales that got volcanic ash on them in the morning. He was half tempted to ask them whether a coating of volcanic ash guaranteed scale health no matter how crooked they were, and if so, how come they didn't cover all their scales with it?

If he pointed it out, though, they might stop their morning greetings out of self-consciousness. And he'd hate that. So he said nothing, but on some mornings tried to coax them into nuzzling him a bit longer, in hopes his shared armor would help protect a bit more of their scales from their own fangs.

###

"How is Monster 0 recovering from surgery?" Scientist 7 asked. "I received a notice that you had trouble with it trying to tear out its stitches."

The Animal Trainer who'd been put in charge of tending to the monster said, "We were able to curb that behavior until it mended."

S-7 nodded. "Good."

"Although we had to restrain its heads, legs, and tails in padded covers until the stitches had healed."

"To be expected. Its wings are still stitched shut?"

"For now. We'll have to switch to a less restrictive means of keeping them closed before it grows much more, or else we'll risk them atrophying beyond any hope of its ever flying again."

S-7 waved off the concern. "We've already prepared an alternate means of easily unsealing and resealing its wings."

"Good." The Animal Trainer paused. "However, in the wake of Monster 0's recovery from surgery, it's developed some unexpected behavioral quirks that may be detrimental."

"Oh?"

"It no longer has any stitches to bite, but instead it sometimes bites its own undamaged scales. It has made itself bleed several times."

S-7 considered the information impassively. "Do you believe its heads are trying to attack each other?"

"No. On the contrary, the self-injury appears to be a collaborative effort."

"Unexpected indeed. You are the expert in dorats—what do you believe is causing this behavior?"

The Animal Trainer took a moment to consider the possibilities. "I believe it's simply a response to stress," xe said. "Their body language resembles common dorat social grooming behaviors used to sooth each other during stressful situations, except such behaviors typically take the form of licking each other rather than biting."

"So its distress has caused the specimens to emotionally bond with each other rather than turn on each other?"

"Yes, it's a vast improvement over prior prototypes. Nevertheless, the damage it's causing itself is deserving of concern."

S-7 was silent a moment as she thought. "If it's a reaction to stress, them the only way to purge this odd behavior is by drastically reducing the stress they're under, correct?"

"Or physically restraining them," the Animal Trainer said. "Although that's not a long term solution."

"No, it isn't. How bad is the damage? Is it wounding itself?"

"Only superficially. It doesn't bite deeper than its scales. The damage heals readily under a heat lamp."

"Then spray the wounds with disinfectant before they heal. I don't see any need to address it further than that," S-7 concluded. "The cost in time, effort, and resources that it would take to reduce its stress isn't worth it for something as easily repairable as lightly damaged scales. Some of our objectives may, in fact, be impossible to reach without inducing considerable stress. If biting itself is its chosen coping mechanism, by all means." She made a sharp, permissive gesture. "Let it cope. It saves us some of the effort of dealing with its mental state."

As they spoke, they hardly spared a glance toward the three-headed creature, already five times larger than the average adult dorat, curled up and shivering on the grated metal floor.

###

And then one morning, the golden ones didn't touch Nido.

He stretched gracelessly with a leg and half a wing out of the lava, tilted his head to listen to the golden ones sing, opened one eye a slit, and called, "Hey."

They stopped singing, but there was no reply. Usually they came flying. "Hey?" He flopped around, getting his face over the humans' addition to his volcano's rim so he could check and see whether the golden ones were still on the island.

Not only that—they were already halfway up the volcano, looking up at him.

He chirped at them. "Morning."

"It is," they agreed neutrally.

He watched them expectantly. Lefty and righty turned away under his gaze, one of them surveying the human colony and the other gazing somewhere vaguely behind Nido, feigning disinterest.

Only the middle one looked him straight on. "Not this time," he said.

"Oh," Nido said. "Yeah. All right, that's fine."

The golden ones eschewed their morning ritual that day. Instead, almost as soon as they'd greeted him, they took off to the east. The sky clouded behind them, and although no rain fell, thunder rumbled until early afternoon.

What in the world had that been about? They'd never been anything but eager to take advantage of the morning exception to the "no touching below the neck" rule. What, were they mad at him about something?

Yesterday he'd taken them to see a waterfall that was taller than he was and teach them some related geography terms. They almost spent more time staring at him than the features he was trying to teach them about. Lovestruck dorks. They'd effortlessly curved themselves to fit the contour of the canyon below the waterfall and taken a nap right in the river. They'd had a great day. No, they didn't have anything reason to be upset with Nido.

And anyway, they reacted to anger the same way most people reacted to fear: the only two options were fight or flight, and they committed to their choice immediately. They wouldn't just sulk around for a night and then give him the cold shoulder the next morning.

So what was up with them?

He didn't see them again all day or night.

###

Monster 0 growled at its bowl of food, and then growled at Animal Trainer 80.

AT-80 looked up impassively at the beast with teeth thicker around than xer thigh. "You want to eat that," xe informed it.

It growled louder. Somewhere far behind it, the tips of its chained down tails rattled menacingly.

"You stupid creature," AT-80 said coldly. "This is the same kibble you had last week, it's just a different shape." Instead of being sculpted into massive spheres made to resemble common dorat pet food, Monster 0's food had been dumped into its bowl as it actually was: dirt. Dirt and rocks, carefully mixed to provide the exact minerals needed to meet its nutritional requirements, no added flavors or artifice reducing its purity and disguising its nature.

Monster 0 snorted at the bowl in disgust.

"We understand your dietary requirements better than you," AT-80 told it.

Monster 0 lifted its middle head and snorted at AT-80. Xe was blown to the ground by the gust.

With the help of a couple other Animal Trainers, xe got back to xir feet. Xe brushed xemself off shakily. "You know better than that."

Right on cue, AT-80 felt the cranial implants through which xe received direct audial transmissions from Controller 0 swell into earplugs, as they were no doubt swelling for every other person in the room; xe only faintly heard the shrill, trilling siren Controller 0 played as punishment for Monster 0. It dropped its heads to the floor, pressing them together and pulling its wired-shut wings over them in a futile effort to block out the noise, writhing in pain as much as its shackles allowed. It remained there, eyes squeezed shut and trembling hard enough to rattle the furniture, long after the sound ended.

When Controller 0 had unsealed everyone's earplugs, AT-80 heard a voice say, "I am certain you are not torturing Monster 0 as a punishment for not eating."

AT-80 looked up as Scientist 7 entered Monster 0's hangar through a mezzanine door. Xe didn't know S-7's exact field of expertise—only that she was the mastermind behind the program to turn dorats into monsters. AT-80 had only recently been added to the team of Animal Trainers controlling Monster 0 and got the sense no one else knew her exact field of expertise, either. Controller 0 probably wanted it that way.

"You are aware that torture will only teach it to force feed itself when under duress, not to willingly and voluntarily consume its meals." She descended the stairs as she spoke. She had her daughter in her arms today, a small curious creature that already had her mother's pale ivory chitin. Typically children would never be allowed in this facility, but Controller 0 made a generous exception for women who were training their daughters as their successors.

"I am aware," AT-80 said. "The punishment was for an assault on my person."

"I see."

"However, it appears unwilling to accept its food in its new form. It is too simple-minded to understand that loose soil and kibble-shaped soil are the same substance."

"Three heads, and yet none appear to have brains," S-7 said dryly. "How unfortunate."

She seemed to be making a joke. Quite unorthodox, particularly this high in the military. She must be an exceptional talent for Controller 0 to promote her so highly despite her behavioral quirks.

"Since switching its diet from kibble to loose soil, it appears to have regressed in its ability to accept the food we offer," AT-80 said. "We may have to backtrack to letting it make its own meal choices again before we can make progress again."

S-7 considered the proposal. "Or perhaps we have simply progressed too fast to give it adequate time to cope with the earlier changes in its diet before insisting on even greater changes. We might have to go back to the kibble until it's finished adjusting," she said. "How many times has it successfully eaten kibble-shaped soil?"

"Twenty-five," AT-25 said.

"Without prompting?"

"Without prompting."

S-7 sharply waved away her hypothesis. "Then it should have had more than adequate time to adjust to its new diet," she said. "Proceed with your proposal."

AT-80 nodded to a lower-ranked animal trainer, who hurried to prepare another bowl.

In seventeen minutes—during which Monster 0 progressed from cowering on the floor to glowering sullenly at AT-80 and S-7—one of the steel overhead doors along the side of Monster 0's hangar rolled up. A second bowl was wheeled out in front of the monster. The bowl was filled with warm dead animals: a mix of the usual prey of feral dorats—creatures tiny enough to get caught between the fangs of this massive mutant—and larger prey that dorats typically would bring down in a flock. Monster 0's nostrils flared at the scent. Its heads jerked up and it stared greedily into the bowl.

AT-80, S-7, and the other workers relocated to the mezzanine level.

Just before the right head dug in, the left caught sight of the scientists moving up a level, and all three heads froze. All three faces stared up at the Xiliens, a rumble building deep in the monster's throats—not a threatening sound, AT-80 had determined over time, but an oversized version of a self-soothing noise dorats made when they were injured or afraid. As though Monster 0 was waiting for permission before it touched the bowl of meat. So it did remember what was going to happen.

"Eat whichever bowl you want," AT-80 instructed it. "This is what you asked for, isn't it?"

Xe hoped it would be sensible, recall its past experiences, and eat the dirt like it ought to. But it hesitated for only a moment before all three faces ferociously dove for the bowl of meat. It snarled and snorted like the base beast it was, gore spattering its faces up to its eyes and dripping down its throats, strips of meat and bone spattering to the floor—as though it hadn't been fed in a month. Or as though it wanted to eat as much as possible before the inevitable happened.

Nevertheless, it hit in seconds.

In the process of adjusting Monster 0's dietary needs and digestive system, S-7 and her team had also adjusted its sense of taste. Dirt wasn't delicious—there was absolutely no need to give Monster 0 the capacity to derive pleasure from its food, that would only inspire it to try to eat on its own schedule rather than on the Xiliens'—but at the very least, dirt tasted neutral. However, they'd needed a way to ensure that Monster 0 wouldn't attempt to revert to its former carnivorous dorat diet and make itself ill.

Thus, its sense of taste had been altered so that meat would taste intolerably vile.

It jerked back from the food, jaws clamped shut and making three different expressions of disgust. Its entire body was tensed around its throats, like it was trying to swallow its mouthfuls and vomit them back up at the same time. Its eyes bugging out, sides convulsing as it fought against its own disgust; but the disgust was winning out.

AT-80 could feel its nausea wash over xem in a psychic wave. Xe quietly excused xemself and joined the other scientists stepping into the hallway, where the walls would shield most of the psychic barrage—along with the noise and the stench.

The monster started heaving just before the door sealed shut.

The floor under Monster 0's hangar was grated specifically for ease of cleaning up fluids and minute detritus. Even so, when AT-80 stepped back in, the floor below was still coated in thick black bile struggling to ooze through the small holes. Shreds of dead meat were mixed among the bile. The monster had collapsed in its own sick—dark bile dripping in slow, gunky rivulets around its fangs, from its nostrils, and out of its eyes. What a sorry, disgusting mess. To think xe and xer team needed to get this thing ready to raze whole cities. "Prepare to hose it off," xe said curtly to an underling, and then faced the monster and raised xer voice. "Have we learned our lesson, Monster 0?"

It didn't move. Its faces were pressed close together, eyes screwed shut, like baby dorats in an abandoned nest huddling for warmth. It shuddered with each breath.

"Well?" Xe waited until one of the heads pried open an eye and focused blearily on xem. "You knew very well what would happen. Nevertheless, you did this to yourself. Remember this the next time you think you know your dietary needs better than we do."

Its eye glazed over and drooped half shut.

AT-80 wasn't sure it could understand xem. Lightly, xe asked, "Would you like me to refill your food bowl?"

Its eyes shot open. It struggled to back away from AT-80 and the two food bowls, spines arched, gagging again at the mere suggestion of food. Black drool dripped from its filthy jaws, its eyes wild.

S-7's daughter laughed.

###

The golden ones' imminent arrival was heralded before dawn with peals of thunder and flashes of light from the west. Nido groggily lifted his head to peer at them as they landed on the slope beside him. "You're up late." He tilted his head and shoulders back, stretching his throat and chest. "S'going on?"

"We need lava," they said. "We do not know where."

Nido clicked his beak at them, puzzled, but obligingly scooted to the edge of the crater. His volcano was their volcano.

"No, not that. Other kind of lava."

"Mafic?"

"No! Different."

"Those're the only kinds they make."

"No. Then—" They made a displeased noise. "Maybe word is wrong. What is the word for things that go in mouth and into body? All things."

"Food?" Nido cackled. "You thought lava means 'food'?"

"It is the only thing you put in your mouth, what else should we think it means?" They swiped at him with a wing. "Stop that. We are serious. We need food."

Nido forced himself to stop laughing. "You're hungry, you mean?"

"Hungry means 'rotting'?"

If he hadn't already stopped laughing, that would have done it. They definitely knew what rotting meant, he'd shown them with the fish washing ashore. "Not quite." He climbed on the volcano's rim, trying to ignore the drizzle now rolling down his back. (For a moment, they leaned toward him, like they wanted to press against his fresh armor; but they held themselves back.) "Okay, what kind of food do you need?"

"It is this kind of rock." They pushed several objects to the rim of the volcano: the remains of the metal bird, their music box, and what looked like a giant chunk of iron.

"Metal?"

"It is metal that looks like this." They curled a tail around to rap themselves on the chest.

"Gold."

"Gold. We need gold." They twitched as they processed what they'd just said; and then they looked at Nido, tapped their chest again, and quietly asked, "'Gold-In-Ones'?" It was the closest they'd ever gotten to correctly pronouncing Nido's nickname for them.

"Golden means 'looks like gold,' yeah."

"Ihi." For a moment, they said nothing, processing this new knowledge of their name. Nido hoped it wasn't somehow insulting. If they ate gold, was calling them "golden" like calling them a piece of meat?

But they went on without comment. "We do not just look like gold. We are gold. But it is getting..." They pantomimed a rubbing gesture with one wing, searching for the word. "We are losing our gold. We need more."

Nido glanced over them. Maybe it was the morning rain, but did they look a little less lustrous than usual? "Maybe if you didn't bite off your own scales so often..."

One head snapped his fangs threateningly at Nido. He snapped his beak back. They said, "We are careful. We take our scales back in as food. We lose no gold that way."

"So where's it going?"

Two heads turned away while the right glanced sideways at Nido. Oh. It was him. Every morning, they gave him a little more. And every night he covered it up in another layer of lava. "... Huh." He looked down, letting their chunk of iron absorb his attention.

"You know this world. You know where we can find gold?" they asked. The left added, "It needs to be pure. Mostly pure. Gold inside other metal makes us feel bad."

Nido pushed the iron around with a talon as he considered the question. "I think so." It had been a long time, but... "I can look. Wait here."

They hesitated. "You will be back soon?"

"Yeah! Just gotta... make sure it's where I think it is. Continents shift, mountains erode, you know."

"What do what what?"

"Gold now, geology lesson later." He lifted off, butted the middle head—and was immediately awash with an unease made up of shame, anxiety, and a strange numb fatigue that seemed to stretch over the very surface of his armor. They jerked back and the right head curled in front of the other two protectively. Whoops. "No touching," Nido said. Got it.

He circled above them, cawed a farewell, and headed north away from the island—and, hopefully, away from the rain.

###

According to legend—stories so old that they were passed down by mouth rather than by instinct—Nido's kind had arisen from the Central Pangaean Mountains hundreds of millions of years ago, when the mountains had stretched toward the sky like teeth and breathed such fire that the whole world burned with them.

According to everyone else, this legend was bunk. The Central Pangaean Mountains' volcanoes had been extinct for nearly half a billion years, and when they had burned, creatures were just barely figuring out how to walk on land. Nido still liked the legend. It seemed appropriate to imagine that his kind had come from the firebloody heart of a supercontinent.

Anyway, even if it wasn't quite that long ago, it was true that his kind could trace their origins to the Central Pangaean Mountains: the first home of his ancestors, before they'd nested in volcanoes, before they'd even flown. The evidence was in their bones, buried beneath the mountain range. If you knew where to look, you could still find their graves.

And Nido knew where to look.

Of course, "Central Pangaean Mountains" was a bit of a misnomer now. Considering that the range had been split in two by the Atlantic and a third chunk of it had ended up on an island somehow, the Central Pangaean Mountains were neither Central nor Pangaean. But the name stuck nevertheless.

Luckily, the bulk of the former Central Pangaean Mountains—reduced from sharp fangs to old, dull, ground-down teeth—wasn't far northeast of him. Just a quick loop around the gulf and it was practically right there. Even though he was partially flying east, the sun had barely progressed by the time the mountains rolled out below him.

He was always shocked at how much lower the Central Pangaean Mountains looked than he thought they were supposed to—but he'd long gotten used to superimposing the map in his brain over the far flatter map he saw in the landscape below him, so he flew on, looking for the right valleys.

###

Nido was squashed between several trees that went up to his chest, awkwardly shoving the branches aside with his wings so he could see the ground, clawing at the soil with his talons to try to find a gap between the roots, and all the while sang nervously to himself:

"Gonna rob a grave, gonna rob a graaave, not gonna be a big deeeal, it's gonna be fiiine."

He was very glad the golden ones couldn't hear his singing.

"Gonna be o-kay, cuz they're not buried on moun-tains, so it's not actually des-e-crat...ing-a-grave..." He didn't know what this tune was. This was a horrible tune. He was never making up a song again. "As long as I stop when I hit the hide and before I reach the bones behind, it's fiiiiine..."

Which was, of course, the exact moment his talons hooked around what he thought was a deep root and tugged it out, and he discovered it was a fossilized thigh bone. "Oh! Oh hell!" He stared in the hole he'd been digging, wondering how he'd managed to dig straight through a layer of gold without noticing. There was no gold. "That's a lady! This is a lady grave. I am so sorry ma'am." He dropped the bone back in its hole, quickly kicked the dirt back in place and stamped it down, and tore half the leaves off one nearby tree in his eagerness to put a solid-sized grove between himself and the grave.

Not a good start.

Before Nido's kind had existed, there were... well, he wasn't sure what they were called. But they were about a third of Nido's height, and their faces had looked about the same, but they weren't designed for flight and it was painfully obvious. Most importantly, though, they were the reason why Nido's kind wore stone armor. In order to woo the women, the men had plucked gold out of the ground, crushed it into little plates, stuck it to their bodies, and turned it into armor. Nido had no idea what the women did to woo the men, but whatever didn't matter they were extinct now. What mattered was that a male grave meant a nice little cache of gold.

And a nice little cache of gold was what Nido needed.

It was possible to get gold just by digging around long enough and separating the grains from the rest. Hypothetically. Nido himself didn't actually know how to do that, but he knew it could be done. His ancestors-so-ancient-they-weren't-even-the-same-species had done it. He'd rather do that, truth be told. It meant he wouldn't have to stir up the graves of his own prehistoric relatives.

But finding gold the old fashioned way, he had to imagine, was a painfully slow process; and whether or not the golden ones were willing to admit it in so many words, it was clear enough to Nido that they were desperate for food. That dull ache he'd gotten over the surface of his body when he'd peered into their emotions had felt... well... he had no other sensation to compare it to, honestly, but it hadn't felt healthy. Maybe their weird grooming rituals had been to fend off that feeling from coming until now, but it was clear preening alone wasn't adequate. They needed serious help.

And they were afraid. Just a little bit—but out of an unparalleled asskicking machine like them, "a little" was enough to qualify as an emergency.

As Nido dug through the dirt and the roots, he saw a thin yellow glimmer. Finally! He hopped back and crouched down so he could scrape aside the dirt more carefully with his claws. The millennia had flattened what had once been a shell of gold in the shape of a person into an uneven metal plate. He uncovered enough to ensure the gold was mostly intact, made a note of the site's location, and moved on.

He didn't know exactly how much gold the golden ones needed. As far as he knew, enough to re-coat their entire body. (Hell, as far as he knew, enough to re-coat every one of their internal organs.) Nido's ancestors hadn't even been half his height, it would take a ton of them to completely cover the golden ones.

Intact hundred-million-year-old-plus corpses were a finite resource. Nido hoped the golden ones didn't need gold very often.

He uncovered two more male graves, decided that was enough for now—he'd promised the golden ones he wouldn't keep them waiting for long—and he headed home.

###

"Their diet?" Scientist 7 asked.

"Adhering almost precisely to your guidelines," Animal Trainer 32 said.

(Xe'd been Animal Trainer 80 the first time xe'd worked with S-7 directly, and had hoped to at least reach the top ten before being deemed too old to productively contribute to the Monster 0 project; but it didn't seem likely now. Xer number was going to begin descending any time. Xe chose not to be jealous that S-7's number had remained just as high—but xe had to choose very hard.)

AT-32 scrolled through a log of all Monster 0's feedings for the past year. "It has no trouble consuming its food however we present it. If we tell it to eat, it eats. Only one minor difficulty: when the soldiers took it on the field for training missions, they would dump its food on the ground rather than expend the space and resources to bring along an adequately large bowl for it. Unfortunately, it began to overgeneralize and treated any uncontained dirt as food. We instructed the soldiers to switch to feeding it out of bags. The worst of the problem has abated, but they still demonstrate a tendency to... taste test the ground. I'm concerned the issue will resurface if we do not monitor them closely when they're in natural environments."

"That won't be an issue," S-7 said. "The reason we restructured its digestive system to let it process basic minerals and elements as food was to make it as easy as possible to feed it no matter where in the universe we've taken it. We can't design it to eat every conceivable form of meat, considering how many life forms out there make a mockery of the very concept of 'flesh' as we understand it—and at times we'll be camping in parts of the galaxy with no readily available life at all. Bringing sufficient meat from X to keep it fed would put an unnecessary burden on our supply train. But soil—nothing but ground-down minerals and metals—soil is everywhere. If it can eat random dirt, it can eat anywhere."

"As long as you can find a planet," S-7's daughter Scientist 18 threw in. S-18, whom the Monster 0 team had seen far less of since her formal schooling had started, stood just behind her mother. She came up just to her mother's shoulder, now. She spent most of her time around Monster 0 taking diligent notes and trying to assert her qualifications for her position by peppering in supporting comments whenever she could, as apprenticed daughters so often did. She'd learned not to laugh openly but still had her mother's unorthodox inclination toward humor; she had a wicked tilt to her head, a sharp jut to her jaw, when she saw something that made her want to laugh. Sometimes AT-32 saw the same tilt in her mother's head.

"I understand," AT-32 said. "So we should let Monster 0 get used to foraging for food no matter what planet it's on."

"As long as it's not overeating—"

"It eats exactly as much and as often as we instruct it to and expresses no desire to eat more."

"—and isn't eating meat," S-7 finished.

Were xe younger, AT-32 might have scoffed. "Of course not. It's learned its lesson very well."

###

Nido had never quite understood the tendency that others had to redecorate themselves to show they were together. Like the way she-of-Infant-Island put her brother's eyes on her wings when she planned on going into battle—well. He supposed that one made sense; it let people know they were on the same side. They didn't exactly look like siblings.

But he knew some kinds of people that wore matching crowns of trees to show they were a couple; some that put matching paint on their family members to show their allegiance to a faction; some that left acid burns on mates they had unilaterally claimed so no one else would touch them and some that were dying to be so claimed... it was a somewhat disturbing concept, honestly. Sure, okay, different kinds meant different minds, of course other species handled their relationships differently—but he was still uncomfortable at the thought of the more extreme gestures.

And even more confusingly, he knew on some level that this was something his own kind did, too. Couples would bathe in each other's volcanoes, filling the cracks in their armor with fresh rock that matched their partner's. That, at least, wasn't disturbing—not like wanting to be permanently scarred by one's partner was. But while he comprehended that it was a thing that happened, he still didn't understand it. He hadn't known why anyone would want it.

He thought he got it now.

Because every time the sunlight caught on the gold gilding his wings, and every time he saw the fine volcanic dust that shaded the golden ones' scales, he got a little thrill.

And it wasn't just because he thought he looked rather majestic with a thin layer of gold highlighting the ridges of his armor, like fresh lava still glowing on the slopes of a low volcano. Or because the golden ones' alien features seemed even more handsome when each scale was emphasized by black dust lining the cracks, or because their eyes seemed to glow almost amber when they were peering out of shadowy black sockets. (Although he did think all these things.)

It was because he knew that, after the golden ones had spent who-knew-how long by themselves in the dark of space and who-knew-how-long ostracized by everyone else on this planet, anyone who looked at them now would immediately know: someone had given them those markings. Someone had touched them and been allowed to touch. Someone would notice if they didn't come home one night. Someone would come flying if they roared for help.

Anyone who looked at them now would know they weren't alone.

Whenever they saw themselves, they would remember that they weren't alone.

And just that knowledge alone made the world seem a little brighter a place to Nido.

Was that another reason why Infant wore her brother's eyes on her wings? For that sense of solidarity? For that constant reminder that she wasn't alone? So that no matter where she went, she needed only raise her wings to say behold, I am loved; there's a place where I belong as long as someone expects to find me there? Did she feel anchored as long as she carried the evidence of his face on her wings?

He'd probably never ask her. But he wondered.

He would hate to lose the opportunity to exchange decorations with the golden ones.

###

Their joints ached as they followed their red sprite northeast. Their shoulders, their hips, their knees, the backs of their necks struggling to support their too-heavy skulls, every knuckle on the phalanges that held their wing membranes outstretched. The entire surface of their body was sore, as if someone had worked over every inch of them with a meat tenderizer, cracking open their scales.

Their body was more or less a mystery to them. Things would go wrong with it at irregular intervals, and they had a limited set of skills to deal with their periodic maladies. As often as not, they had to wait out a malfunction and hope their body was like a gyroscope that would wobble and right itself without any help, rather than on the verge of losing balance and toppling over for good.

This, thankfully, was one of their more familiar ailments, with a simple cure and a recognizable list of symptoms. They could feel that they were long overdue for a shed, not because of the time that had passed since the last one (variable and unmeasurable) but because of the tight raspy discomfort of their skin. They could see the luster dimming from their scales. They didn't feel static crackling over their bodies like it was supposed to; and when they flew, rain poured but lightning flashed less and less. They needed gold.

They'd needed gold for weeks—along with a proper meal. They'd been stupid for going this long without finding a meal—and why? Because they were worried if they left the red sprite's island for a couple of days, he'd forget about them? (Not to name names, First.) Or that if they left this planet to mine gold from an asteroid where they knew they could find it easily, they might forget the red sprite? (Again, not to lob accusations at anyone in particular, Third.) Or that if they dared to eat food on this crowded planet where anyone could see, the machine makers might somehow use the observations to deduce their entire biology and formulate a way to kill them? (That... that one was on everyone. And they agreed it was a valid concern.) Or that if the red sprite saw them eating literal dirt at his feet, he might decide they were lowly, disgusting animals—vile detritus feeders—and cast them out? (That was also on all of them—but, particularly on Second.)

But they didn't have much choice now. Trying to leave the atmosphere in this condition was dangerous—without electricity smoothly rolling across their scales, they'd have difficulty controlling their space flight. They had to eat here. And they hadn't put in the time to track down caches of gold when they were at their full strength, and now they ached too much to do a decent job of it. Hopefully they could at least consume their gold with a bit of dignity and it would let them recover enough to find a proper meal without needing the red sprite to escort them.

They were going to see the burial sites of the creature that red sprites had evolved from, apparently. He'd taught them the word for "ancestors" today—"the kind that my kind came from, far far before," as he'd defined it, for the benefit of their limited vocabulary. What was gold doing with the corpses of the red sprite's ancestors? Did they make art out of gold, the way the red sprite made art from stone and glass? Had humans (as the red sprite had told them the local machine makers were called) left the gold as offerings to far more powerful creatures, before they'd developed the weapons to challenge such creatures?

They'd find out soon. The red sprite began wheeling down out of the sky; they waited to see where he was heading before dropping more heavily to the ground. It hurt their joints more than usual to land so abruptly.

Either from that pain or from the relief, their knees and elbows went weak at the sight of the gold shining beneath the dirt, and they practically tumbled into the pit. They flung aside massive scoops of dirt with their wings and tore aside tree roots with their claws. Their stomach roared with pain so strong they could feel it stabbing their lungs, tearing their throats.

The red sprite chirped—was he concerned?

They flinched. "Do not watch."

"What?"

They didn't elaborate and didn't wait to see whether he listened. If he thought less of them for their table manners, that was on him now. They'd warned him. They were starving.

They dove at the gold, jaws crumpling and ripping the metal as they went—lucky it was a relatively thin plate, pity there was so little—and swallowing huge mouthfuls of dirt with each bite.

Something else crunched between their jaws. Bone. Bone old enough it had turned into stone. Flesh so ancient even they could consume it without fear. Oh, how they missed meat! How they missed knowing that their meal once held life. They hardly remembered what meat had once tasted like, but they still craved it. It was like longing for a ghost. Whatever had once existed of this beast's flesh was dust now—probably for the best, since they wouldn't have been able to tolerate the flavor—but the stone bones splintered just right. It was almost enough for them to remember when they'd been able to taste something other than ash or rot. Their red sprite had given them a rare treat.

Third jerked up first to make sure the red sprite wasn't watching—he was pointedly focused on an aircraft passing overhead—and they hastily licked each other's faces clean before climbing out of the pit. "We are done."

The red sprite barely spared them a passing glance before looking into the pit—and staring. They looked down as well, trying to figure out what it was caught his attention—had they left a mess? No more of one than could be reasonably expected in a pit of dirt.

They gave him a moment. "... What?"

He flinched and tore his gaze from the hole. "How much do you need?"

They studied him for a moment. Something was off. But couldn't tell what, so... "One more." What they'd already had would be enough to replenish their scales, but usually they had reserves stored... somewhere in their body. Who knew where. Helpful for when they lost body parts. It would be better for them to refill that cache now than scramble for gold again the next time they were injured.

"That's all?"

"That is all."

"For how long?"

They really had no way to know that, did they? "Until we lose what we have."

"Okay." The red sprite carefully picked through the ground-level forest detritus, shoving aside a couple of trees they'd toppled, until he found a small rock that he could flick up and knock with his beak to send it sailing over the trees. "Next one's over there," he said. "I'll catch up to you."

"'Catch up'?"

"You go, I'll follow later."

They hesitated, not sure why he couldn't come with them—even more uneasily certain now that something was wrong—but spread their wings anyway.

Just before they could take off, he said, "Hey." He was still looking into the pit. "Don't—don't eat the next one's... Just eat the gold. Leave the bones."

Their heart immediately plummeted from their chest down to their tails. He hadn't taught them the word "bones" yet, but he didn't need to for them to guess what it was. They looked in horror at the boen shards they'd left in the— It wasn't a pit. It was a grave.

Stupid. They were stupid, why hadn't they realized—? They knew his species buried their dead. His species had funerals, dirges. And he'd told them that this was a predecessor to his species, they should have assumed—they should have at least considered—

"We..." They didn't know the right words to compensate for a faux pas like this—it probably wasn't even a faux pas, it was probably a major violation of a taboo they were only half aware of—the right words probably didn't even exist. So they trailed off, floundering. And then mumbled, "We leave the bones."

Very few things could make them feel small.

Their appetite was gone. A glint of gold would be just another shade of yellow now. But they should still replenish their internal reserves, just so they wouldn't be caught unprepared in case of a fight. And then should leave as fast as possible.

They took off, hurrying to the second grave.

It wasn't very far. Not quite within eyeshot of the first—but close enough that, after they'd scraped aside the dirt and as they attempted to crunch into the metal, they could hear the red sprite's voice echoing between the nearby mountains, singing his kind's dirge over the first grave.

The taste of gold turned to rot in their mouths.

###

"And Monster 0 has taken well to the gold chips?" Scientist 7 asked.

"It has," Animal Trainer 55 said. "We added them on top of its regular rations until it understood them as food, and since then we have been able to present the chips alone. You must pardon the irrational sentiment, but we have noted that it even appears eager to eat them."

AT-55 was distantly aware that Monster 0 had stopped eating to listen in on the conversation. A hexagonal-shaped plate of solid gold, the height of a Xilien and slightly curved to allow the monster to more easily pick them off the floor with its teeth, dangled from one of its mouths. Teeth punctures covered the surface. AT-55 had long gotten used to the fact that, unlike the dorats xe had trained on, Monster 0 would listen in on their conversations about it—and understand what they said.

"Monster 0 is an animal and therefore irrational," S-7 said. "Perhaps it views them as a source of pleasure. All the better, ultimately."

Although xe thought xe was doing an excellent job of suppressing the emotion, AT-55 would, if pressed, confess that xe had found xemself somewhat intimidated when xe was informed xe would be reporting directly to S-7 for the first time. The mastermind behind Monster 0. Xe'd only been informed a moment before meeting her that xe was actually answering to the clone of the S-7 who has invented Monster 0—the mother had passed away a few years ago and the daughter inherited her position. All the same, the new S-7 was her own form of intimidating: she was the same age as AT-55, and already commanded such a high rank.

"Did you have an opportunity to review my proposal?" AT-55 asked.

"To use the gold chips as rewards for good behavior during training?" S-7's voice wasn't quite so expressive that AT-55 could fairly accuse her of being unduly effusive on the job, but nevertheless AT-55 was sure xe detected a hint of disapproval. "No, we will not be using them that way."

AT-55 protested, "But if it both depends upon and derives pleasure from the gold chips, then the chips would be an excellent method of exerting control over it."

"The chips are already a method of exerting control," S-7 said. "We didn't have to give Monster 0 a biological need to consume gold in a solid, undiluted form, rather than extracting it from other composite sources the way it does with all its other necessary nutrients. We made it that way for a reason: to ensure it can't run off. It can feed itself on any rocky planet or asteroid in the universe—but so long as it needs pure gold in order to repair damage to its scales, it remains dependent upon us to meet its needs. The gold isn't a treat; it's a tether."

AT-55 tilted xer head up. "I understand."

"And you see the necessity of feeding Monster 0 its gold precisely when it needs gold, no sooner or later. Even if it fails or misbehaves, it must remain confident that it will have its need for gold met by us—always by us and only by us."

AT-55 nodded. Xe wouldn't bring up the proposal again.

Monster 0 slowly resumed chewing.

###

Nido had nearly finished reburying the remains of his ancestors' ancestor when he heard, lilting over the trees, the sound of the golden ones singing his kind's dirge.

On the one hand, he felt like they probably shouldn't be doing that. They didn't completely know how his kind's funerals were supposed to go. On the other hand, Nido had only learned secondhand while the golden ones had actually watched one, so they probably knew better how they went than he did.

Mostly, after they'd eaten half a corpse, Nido appreciated that the golden ones were making the effort. It was above and beyond what he'd asked for.

He was about to take off and catch up with them when he saw them swooping down to meet him. They landed heavily between the trees. Before Nido could say anything, they bent forward, made a foul rasping sound—"Uhh, guys?"—convulsed from their hips all the way up to their throats as they gagged several times—"Are you okay?"—and then regurgitated a pile of fossilized bones through their right mouth.

Nido gaped.

Middle one licked right's muzzle clean while lefty bent down and flicked out his tongue to pick up spare flecks of gold from the bone pile.

"That's nasty."

"We are," they conceded. Nido had an easier time than usual picking out which head was producing which syllables; the right one's voice was a bit raspier and deeper now. "You can put the bones under the dirt again."

Nido looked in exasperation at the hole he'd just finished refilling, and got to work digging it out again. After taking a moment to recover, the golden ones joined him.

"For a little before, we do not remember about the dirge you sing for the dead of your kind." They don't look at him as speak. "Or how you put them in their volcanoes."

Nido has to mentally turn over the statement a couple of times before figuring out they're trying to explain why they ate a bunch of bones straight out of a grave. "It's... these aren't really my kind," Nido said. "I don't think they got funerals at all. But they were close enough to us that we have to respect their dead. Leaving their bones on their land and all that."

"We do not know."

It's not quite an apology, but it's apology-adjacent, so Nido decides to accept it like one. "I didn't tell you. I didn't expect you to..." He trailed off. He supposed he should have expected them to lunge for the remains of a dead body, shouldn't he? With their fangs. They obviously ate more than just metal.

When they'd dug deep enough to find some of the bone shards the golden ones had missed, Nido hopped back out of the hole and started carefully picking up the upchucked bones to return where they belong. By habit, he almost grabbed them with his talons, caught himself, and scooped them up in his hands instead.

The golden ones backed out of his way. After Nido had carried a couple of loads into the pit, they said, "We eat the dead of our kind."

Nido jerked his head up to stare at them. That was the first time they'd ever told him anything about their kind's culture. He'd been half convinced that they didn't have any others of their kind—that they'd been born alone without having ever met another member of their species. Hoping they'd share more, even if it was just funerary customs, he said encouragingly, "Yeah?"

They went on, "We do not eat the dead of your kind again. Or the kind close to your kind."

"Ah." He supposed that was all they were going to share. "That's good."

"And when you die, we will tear you open so you bleed out on your volcano."

"That's considerate of you."

###

Monsters 0, 3, 4, and 10 looked down at the body of Monster 17.

Their body was riddled with massive crystallic harpoons, black blood welling up from the punctures and oozing around electric pink shafts. One had pierced their heart. Had that been the blow that killed them, or could they have recovered if not for the others? This had been M-17's first mission on a planet with a technologically advanced population. They'd been relying on the experience of the more veteran monsters to keep them safe.

M-0 wondered if the other three monsters (the other nine animals) were feeling what they were feeling: the uncomfortable sense that they all ought to be coiled together, joined together over this tragedy, supporting each other through the grief of losing another one (three) of their aerie.

Except they weren't part of an aerie. They were part of a squad. And M-0's capacity for empathy had been so numbed they couldn't feel their own reactions to M-17's deaths, much less any of the other monsters'.

They felt dully as though they'd lost something.

The body lay in the rubble of a shattered crystal dome, crumpled and twisted and limp, eyes wide and glazed. And they all stood staring around it, unmoving and unmoved. As though they were trying to figure out how they should feel about this. M-3, losing interest in the exercise, twisted around to lick at shoulder wound that had scraped off several scales.

M-0 had a thought. Specimen 1's thought, probably—typically the clever one—but the flash of inspiration had come upon them so suddenly they couldn't tell and didn't care. They crawled toward the corpse gingerly, trying to keep the weight off their injured right leg—half the scales on their thigh had been burned off. The other monsters watched them. M-0 was their leader, after all.

Specimen 3 butted M-17's chest as Specimen 1 looked at the others and said, "Free gold."

They made various noises of disgust.

Specimen 1 said, "More for us." He lifted high to keep watch for the approach of more alien troops or Xilien supervisors, and Specimen 2 bent down to watch as Specimen 3 dug his fangs into a puncture wound to peel the skin off.

"You'll make yourself sick," M-4 said.

"All the gold they give us goes to our scales," Specimen 1 said. "If we only eat the scales, it's fine."

M-10 said, "You're stupid."

M-0 rattled their tails and the others backed off. More blood dripped to the ground as they ripped more and more off the meat. They gagged and nearly retched several times as Specimen 3 tasted the meat, , but they'd learned to control that reflex. He bit down harder on the scales and they went on anyway.

M-4 was right. They did make themselves sick. The Xiliens retrieved them from the basement of a collapsed skyscraper they'd hollowed out to hide in, curled up tight with their knees pressed into their abdomen to try to quiet their heaving. Their fever didn't break for several days.

But during that time, the burned scales on their thigh regrew by themselves. When M-0 returned to the field, the scales scraped off M-3's shoulder wound had not.

###

The more Nido thought about it, the more he was bothered by the fact that the golden ones seemed so confident that they would be the ones to bury him and not the other way around, and that they'd apparently already put thought into what they'd do when that happened. As if they knew something he didn't.

After Nido had re-buried the uneaten graves and they'd flown halfway back home, he barrel rolled over and yelled up at the golden ones, "Hey!" When they called back an acknowledgement, he asked, "What do you want me to do if you die first? I can eat you if you want, but it'll take a while."

"We do not die first. You do."

"You don't know that!"

"We do." And they said it with such serene confidence that Nido almost believed them.

"You said you eat your kind's dead," Nido said.

"Yes, but you do not need to—"

"So your kind can die, right? You don't know that it won't happen before me. It could be an accident."

They considered that, then begrudgingly said, "Maybe."

"So, what should I do if you die?"

"Throw our corpse at the one that kills us and see if he screams."

Nido cackled.

He wanted to get a serious answer out of them; but before he could ask again, the golden ones swooped closer to him, close enough that he had to constantly adjust his flight to compensate for the turbulence stirred up by their wings. It was a fun challenge, actually. "The kind before your kind has gold on its bodies instead of lava, yes?"

"Yeah—well, only the males."

"What are 'males'?"

"The, uh..." Okay, there was no way to explain that one without getting into a whole mess of vocabulary they hadn't covered yet. "In most species, the better-looking members."

"Then you are one of the males?"

"Probably, but my kind is actually one of the exceptions to the—ha! You charmers."

They spared only a second to bask in the triumph of getting in a slick line before returning to the prior subject. "Is this why you let us on your volcano? We are 'golden ones' because we look like your ancestors?"

"Sssort of."

"'Sort' of?"

"A little yes, a little no?" Since the golden ones were actively flapping instead of soaring, a storm was rapidly brewing around them. Nido hid from the coming rain in the shadow beneath their body. "Actually—honestly, when I saw you, I thought you were one of my kind."

He wasn't sure if that rumble was thunder or their laughter.

"I've never seen one of my kind alive!" he yelled defensively. "Anyway, I thought you might've been... I don't know, old-fashioned. Putting gold over the lava to go courting. It took me a bit to figure out there wasn't any lava under the gold."

"You think we are courting when we first attack you?"

"Yeah?" They'd sure been courting the hell out of him since then. "Why? Weren't you?"

They didn't immediately reply. He looked up at them. They looked down at him, then away. "We just like fighting."

He laughed so hard he couldn't breathe.

He heard the steady rumble of their laughter above him. When he'd nearly recovered, they dove down over him; he thought for a moment they were going to attack him from above, but they stopped just short of landing on his back and ducked their middle head upside-down to bop Nido's forehead, giving him a brief glimpse of their affection/amusement.

It was also enough for him to tell that the ache across their body was already subsiding.

The force of the flap that carried the golden ones back to their cruising altitude was almost enough to knock Nido out of the sky. He flapped hard to catch himself and climb back to their height. Rain, rain, rain, yecch.

When he was flying even with them, they said, "When you see us, the first thing you think is that we are more like you than anyone else you know on this world."

"Well—yeah. Basically." It sounded a little ridiculous when they put it into words like that, but...

They copied the barrel roll he'd started off the conversation with so they could circle beneath him as they spoke. "That is the first thing we think, too."

Suddenly the wind across Nido's rain-soaked back felt a little less cold.

He watched the graceful way their necks and tails curved as they completed the barrel roll, and made a note to himself: he needed to take them out dancing sometime soon.

###

Was this was how aliens under attack by their monsters felt?

The Xilien space station's sirens were wailing—a shrill, trilling note—sometimes drowned out by distant explosions as another critical system was destroyed, or the howl behind a sealed door as another chamber was ripped open to the vacuum of space. Their space station's uplink to Controller 0 had been the first system knocked out, rendering their cranial implants useless and eliminating the supercomputer's telepathic control over Monster 0.

Every once in a while, Scientist 7 could hear a siren that sounded slightly out of tune echoing down distant hallways. Every time she did, she was seized by a wild panic. Nothing mattered more than running away from that out-of-tune siren as fast as she could.

She had to hear it several times before she realized that out-of-tune siren was Monster 0 itself, distracting them from their evacuation and sending them scattering through mazes of hallways. Monster 0's voice rang like a bell. Shrill and trilling. Was it trying to imitate the siren, mocking them? Or was that how it laughed?

Even knowing what it was didn't stop her from fleeing in a blind panic whenever she heard its voice.

This was never supposed to happen. From mind control to dietary control, they were supposed to have a thousand ways to keep Monster 0's leash tight enough to strangle it. S-7's grandmother had made sure of that when she'd designed Monster 0, S-7's mother had reinforced their control, S-7 maintained it—she'd been so careful—they'd all been so careful—

She and dozens of other scientists and soldiers were corralled into one of the space station's largest hangars, chased by the monster's high, mocking laughter, echoing in the distance. They hadn't made it to the escape pods, but at least there were ships here. S-7 looked for a soldier to order to pilot one of the spacecraft for here—when the wall behind them exploded in lightning.

The phony siren had sounded so much further away—she'd thought the monster had passed them by. Had it been deliberately misleading them? Could it throw its voice somehow? It looked down at them without making a noise, leering malevolently, fangs exposed hungrily. The soldiers' weapon fire bounced harmlessly off its scales.

One of its gazes fixed on S-7—and then they all did. She could feel its sadistic delight weighing on her mind like an impending thunderstorm. That was impossible. She'd been told it had lost its empathic abilities back in her grandmother's day. All the monsters lost their empathy.

The monster circled around her, getting between the ships and the massive hangar door. Its gait was uneven and lurching; for a moment S-7 hoped it had been injured, but then realized it was purposefully crushing people under its feet and wings with every step, like a child crushing nuts and bugs on the sidewalk. The left head curved down to scout out more victims, the right snapped and snarled at anyone who dared point a weapon at them, but the middle's gaze never wavered from S-7.

She was the only thing in the room that Monster 0 was constantly fixated on. Her family was the closest thing Monster 0 had to a consistent master—maybe it still recognized her. Maybe it would listen to her. "You know you can't leave," she told it. "You're dependent on us. Even if you escape, you'll come crawling back to us in a few weeks. You know you will."

The three heads lunged down at her. They moved so suddenly she stumbled back, falling. But they just stared at her, as though goading her—go on, explain more.

"You think you're invincible! We gave you the ability to survive indefinitely without air, to subsist on nothing but dirt and sunlight, even to regrow your own body! But unless you want your skin to peel open and your flesh to spill out, you will always, always need us for gold."

"Will we?"

S-7's breath caught. The monster spoke Xilien, actual Xilien. They had trained it to understand Xilien, but they'd never imagined...

Voice weak, she stuttered, "The—the chips. Without us, where will you—?"

"She is too simple-minded to understand that loose gold and chip-shaped gold are the same substance." Its voice was unnervingly high-pitched, hissing the S's and clicking the T's like they were separate syllables. Und-ersss-T-and. Sssubsss-T-anssse. "Three generations, and yet none appear to have brains. How unfortunate."

They'd made it too smart.

The right head slithered down and curled around her, the left head slowly opened its jaws and unrolled its tongue, and the middle head said, "We know this will make us sick. We will enjoy it anyway."

She shrieked as the left head snatched her up. Its fangs crunched through her body twice before it gagged and spit her remains to the ground.

With only a casual one-headed glance behind a shoulder, Monster 0 crashed its tails on the hangar door behind it, tearing open the metal as though it was tin foil. The sound of sirens was lost to the howl of the vacuum.

Monster 0 spread its wings to catch the wind racing out into the vacuum, letting it rip them into space. Crossing the threshold of the space station, they shed all the shackles and all the labels the Xiliens had ever placed on them. They cackled like an alarm bell until the void stole their voice.

###

A few days after their meal, the golden ones' scales turned dull and cloudy, almost the color of sand. Which alarmed the hell out of Nido; but when he asked them if they were alright, they assured him this was perfectly normal.

"You give yourself new armor in your volcano at night," they said. "This is how we give ourselves new armor." Nido would have to take their word on it, since there was no one else's word he could take. At least they didn't preen while they were gray like this. Maybe getting enough gold meant they wouldn't have to again.

In another couple days, Nido woke to find they'd risen before dawn and were furiously rubbing the sides of their faces against a rocky surface near the base of the volcano, scraping and peeling off the faded layer. He watched in morbid fascination as they labored into the morning to slough off their own skin, revealing a fresh layer of scales underneath that sparkled like pure polished gold in the morning light.

They glanced up at their one-pter audience and asked, half self-deprecatingly, "Gross?"

"No," Nido said. "Just interesting."

They looked surprised. They considered Nido a moment, and then slowly bent down to thoughtfully start eating their own discarded skin.

"That's gross."

"Then stop watching."

That was a totally fair request.

A few strips of dead skin still stuck around their wings and between their necks. They nibbled irritably at the edges for the rest of the day and took a couple of quick swims in the ocean—to loosen it, Nido suspected—until by dusk it had flaked off on its own.

###

The first morning after they shed, Nido woke up to find the golden ones looming over his head. "Uh. Hey! Morning. What...?"

"Up."

The moment he'd lifted his torso out of the lava, they lunged forward, wrapping their necks around him possessively. He froze before he recognized what they were doing. How many days had it been since they'd last decorated him?

"What are you—?" Nido was interrupted as middle one bunted him. He bunted back a little harder and tried again, "What are you doing? You're just going to waste your gold if you do that, aren't you?"

"We like seeing us on you."

Nido made a strangled sound. He decided not to read too deeply into that. "Yeah, but..."

They held him a moment longer before slithering off. "We should not do it all mornings," they said. Nido's heart sank, even though they were only saying what he already knew. "But it is okay some mornings. Mornings that are... not better, but... more interesting than normal mornings."

"Like special occasions?"

"Sure," they said uncertainly.

Nido climbed the rest of the way out of his volcano and crouched on the rim. "Okay. That sounds... alright." He'd miss having gold all the time—he'd gotten too fond of seeing gold glinting on his wings, and he wondered if they felt that way when they saw volcanic dust on their scales—but he didn't think they could afford for the golden ones to lose a little bit more every single day. This was probably the best compromise. "What's special about this occasion?"

"We took off our dead skin!" They reared back and lifted their wings proudly. Electricity cracked down their sides and glittered on their scales. "We are the most shiny!"

Nido almost laughed. It was true, they were. It made the new volcanic dust lining their throats and faces look even darker and sharper in contrast. Okay, he'd accept that as a special occasion.

He nevertheless felt guilty that night as he perched on the edge of the crater and contemplated covering up the gold. It seemed unfair for the decorations to be so fleeting when it was such a chore for the golden ones to replenish their supply.

He could let them eat it back off, he supposed. But he still remembered the first time they'd attempted to embrace him—the way they rasped their teeth against his sides, flicked their tongues over his back—and shuddered. Maybe eventually. In a long, long time. But not now.

So before sleep, he went down to the beach, carefully chipped off the top layer of gold with his beak, and left the chips in a pile near the golden ones. One stirred and looked at him sleepily. He awkwardly said, "Here's your gold back," and fluttered up to his crater to sleep.

The next morning, they quietly said, "Never do they again." So he didn't.

But they did eat the chips.

###

Nido couldn't help but notice several thin lines tracing the golden ones' body where the scales were paler and slightly buckled outward. Under their jaws and eyes, around their throats, between their necks, stretching down their chest and back, curving around their shoulders along their spines, above their tails, around their hips, between their legs, crisscrossing multiple times over their abdomen.

They looked like scars.

They were the first places the golden ones attacked in their next morning preening session.

Nido had hoped that the feast of gold would spare the golden ones from obsessively tearing open their own skin each morning. No luck. The routine picked back up just a couple days after they shed their skin. Maybe that really was normal for them. At least they seemed less irritated now.

Nido tried not to wonder too hard at the fact that, as they progressively tore and gnawed down more and more of the thin misshapen scar-like lines, the scales grew back flatter and smoother.

Over the next month, their fresh scales faded from pure yellow-gold to their usual dull, pale brass hue. The scars became invisible.

The golden ones still gnawed at invisible flaws every morning.

Nido didn't bother them about it. He'd watched them eat a massive chunk of gold and wiggle out of their own skin. If they told him something was normal and necessary to their health, he was taking their word for it. They knew their needs better than he did.

But he hung around a little later each morning before flying off for the day, sitting on the beach with them, listening to them sing. They put off preening when he was there.

Some days they didn't do it at all.

###

(Replies/reblogs are welcome! Check the “source” link below for my masterlist of KOTM and Rodorah fics, as well as my AO3 and Ko-fi links.)

#rodorah #rodan #ghidorah #king ghidorah #kotm #godzilla #fanfic #my writing #(typically i don't warn for things that aren't super common triggers or that i haven't been asked to warn for)#(but this fic's got A Lot so content warnings for:)#(dermatillomania; blood; pica (kinda? they eat things humans shouldn't and they eat things THEY shouldn't); vomiting; and cannibalism)#(uhhhhh it's mostly heartwarming?)

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wittystiles · 5 years ago

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The Bluff || Part 16 || Mitch Rapp

Author: wittystiles

Word Count: 2k+

Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader

Warnings: Cursing (last time i’ll use this one fuckin’ expect cursing tbh)

Authors Note: Well fuck me, it’s back. After taking sixteen months off and deciding this story was dead seven times, I’m Goddamn back. And so is this hot-steaming pile of dog shit known as The Bluff. I hope to Goddamn hell y’all like it. If you don’t - well - shove it. Feedback is THE MOST IMPORTANT okay, thank you! (-: I love y’all, thanks for chillin’ with me. Read this if you will. Thanks. ((also thank you to my lovely @ellie-bee242 for never giving up on this fic!))

Irene stared at Stan, face expressionless. If anything, she looked tired. She leaned back in her chair and brought her hands together underneath her chest, head resting against the plush leather backing. “She’s moving in with him?” She repeated in a questioning tone.

“Yes,” Stan said in a sigh. “What part of that was unclear? I said exactly what you just repeated, without the inflection you had, but same meaning nonetheless. She’s moving in with him. He’s going to live with her. They’re going to share a place. Their addresses will be the same. They’re cohabiting. I am running out of ways to rephrase this.”

Irene rolled her eyes, “when will their union take place?”

“I don’t know their moving schedule. And ‘union’, come on Irene, no one talks like that.”

Ignoring the latter part of his response, Irene continued. “Could you find out?”

“No.”

Her dark eyes narrowed at the older man and contemplated the various ways that she could attempt to kill him with the pen sitting on her desk. She knew most would be thwarted the moment she tried them, however, and decided against any actual action. “So, while you had some information, you’re actually nearly entirely useless to me?”

“I wouldn’t call myself useless, ever.”

She shrugged, “do you have any idea where the two of them will be staying?”

“Together,” Stan answered immediately. “That is what cohabiting means, after all.”

“You’re fired,” she blurted without thought. “I’ll figure out how to get this shit done without you. Mitch can have a new mentor, if that’s what you are at this point, Stan.” She stood from her desk then, grabbing a file off of it’s edge fast enough to knock over a cup of pens that was stationed near it. “You have given me enough headaches for a lifetime.”

Stan stared at her in confusion, eyes trained on her face. “What?” He asked, finally processing her little blow up. “Knock it off,” he finally decided, reaching out to snatch the folder from her hands. She made no efforts to stop him, her breathing becoming long and deep. He didn’t think she’d gotten as angry as she had, but was clearly wrong, as he watched her calm herself down. “What is this?”

He opened the folder, thumbing through the contents with little interest, eyes darting quickly over each page. “You’re sending him out?” Stan wondered, looking up from the pages in his hand to the woman who was now busying herself tidying up her pens. “You know he’s not going to go.”

“He knows he won’t have a choice.”

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing the folder. “Irene, give him some more time.”

“He’s had over a month.”

“Let me remind you,” he leaned forward, holding the folder loosely between his legs, elbows resting on his knees. “He thought he was on assignment that entire month. (Y/N) was supposed to be his mission. He invested all of that time on her because he thought that’s what this big dumb organization was having him do. He even went and got those arms dealers, and his ass kicked, while in France. Give the kid some time with his new girlfriend.”

The chuckle that left Irene’s throat startled Stan, made him sit up straight again in his chair. She slowly made her way around her desk, taking her seat in her chair without another sound. When she made eye contact with Stan he leaned back, cocking his head ever so slightly to the side in calculation of her. “She isn’t his girlfriend,” she finally said in a cool and even tone. “She is his handler. And when the time comes, I will remove her from his life. Is that understood? Don’t make this something that it isn’t Stanley. Don’t give some deeper meaning to the two of them. Mitch is a pain-in-my-ass agent who thinks he writes the rules, and (Y/N) is there to rein him in. Nothing more, nothing less.”

She held no emotion behind her words. She could have been filling him in on the weather for the week in the same tone she used to remind him that they were manipulating Mitch’s life like he was a puppet on their string. He swallowed hard, suppressing the guilt that was gnawing at him like heartburn. “Irene,” Stan tried, using a voice he’d take with his own children. “Don’t be so cold. The kid’s falling for her.”

“Which was the plan,” she nodded her head like she was proud of herself. Another hard swallow from Stan. “Didn’t you so sinisterly say that he was going to? We wanted this remember? We dealt this hand for him at the beginning of the game. Sure, we didn’t think he’d play into it so well, but hell, Stan. This whole charade couldn’t be going better for us if we wanted it to.” She smiled then, “lest you forget that everything that we’ve done, every little move we’ve orchestrated? They’ve all been your ideas. You know how to play Mitch like an instrument and he’s really performing beautifully for you. You should have some pride.”

“Yeah,” he nodded his agreement, unsure what else to say to the woman before him.

“Now stop with this nonsense, and go give him that file. Lets see how having (Y/N) around affects the way he handles another task. We saw that he was quick to finish the one in Paris to rush back to her. I wonder if the same will hold true now that they’re cohabitating.”

Stan stood from the chair, deciding not to share parting words with Irene. He checked the file a final time while walking out of the office, headed for the elevator.

Mitch turned the corner to his apartment building sharply, seeing the older brick building come into view as his phone began singing loudly in the cupholder at his side. He blindly reached for it, answering it without hesitation as he pulled into the residential parking garage that wound underneath. “Going underground, I’m going to lose you.” He told the person on the other end of the phone, hanging it up without giving its signal a chance to be lost. He shoved the device into his pocket and searched around for a moment for a parking spot, stealing the one nearest the elevator. The older man that usually parked there was out of town visiting someone or doing something for the month, and he’d be damned if he let another one of the tenants get that spot.

He killed the engine, pocketed his keys, and got out slamming the door behind him with a metal clang. The noise echoed off the walls of the garage and for a moment he remembered being in France and finding a car to steal. He wondered if the owner had ever recovered it. He’d been so kind as to leave it relatively undamaged at the mouth of a tunnel near the river. He figured if junkies or the homeless hadn’t absolutely dismantled it, the owner could probably still even use it. Baring they didn’t mind it missing at least the windshield, to Mitch’s fault.

He walked the few steps to the elevator and jabbed impatiently at the button, waiting for it to light up. “Broke yesterday,” he heard a voice from his side say and he reached around his back reflexively for his gun. “Stairs are working though.”

A brunette woman was approaching him, carrying two overfilled brown grocery bags in her arms. “Leasing office said they’d send someone down within the week to take a look at it. Wouldn’t hold my breath though.” The woman made to pass Mitch and he processed her as a non-threat.

“That so?” He wondered, motioning towards the bags in her arms. “Let me help you,” he offered. She eyed him for a quick second before handing a bag over, wrapping both of her arms around the one she still held. “Mitch,” he introduced, opening the door to the stairs with his foot. She gave him a smile as he let her head through the door first.

She started up, her footfalls heavy on each of the metal stairs. “I’m Fiona,” she called over her shoulder as he followed her. “Moved in about a year ago. Met damn near every neighbor in this place, ‘cept you I guess. You new?”

“Lived here four years.”

She chuckled, continuing up. “You’ve lived here four years and this is the first we’re seeing of each other? What, you a recluse or somethin’?”

“Or somethin’.”

He heard her chuckle over the sound of her repositioning her arms around the bag. “Not much of a talker?”

His shoulders shrugged before he’d even processed the action, slowing his speed on the stairs to keep a relatively normal distance between her and himself. He wished absently that he’d not offered to help her, he could already be in his apartment by now. He needed to shower in a desperate way, and needed to still head out to the store to get something for (Y/N) to eat.

He frowned a little at the thought of her, of how she was so eager to thank him for cleaning. How small she had looked to him every time he’d peaked in to check on her. He wondered if she’d look that small in his place, too. If she’d still have the same soft light around her that she had in France and in her own apartment. Wondered if perhaps he couldn’t do her immediate harm after all.

“Earth to Mitch,” Fiona called with a laugh. “Boy, you really must be somethin’ else, gettin’ lost like that. You okay?”

He nodded, “tired.”

“You work the graveyard or somethin’? That's why you’re just gettin’ home at what -” she thought for a second. “Must be just after nine in the morning.”

Mitch waited until they reached the landing at the top of the stairs to acknowledge her question with furrowed brows. “I was out, doesn’t matter. I’m tired now though.” He handed her her grocery bag, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Have a good morning, Fiona. It was nice meeting you.”

He pushed open the door to the lobby of the apartment building and made a hasty retreat as she called a “yeah, you too” from behind him. He took the stairs up to the top floor two and three at a time, striding quickly for his apartment door. He withdrew his keys as he rounded a corner, freezing dead in his tracks.

His eyes narrowed and his jaw set, fist clenching tightly around the keys. He closed the distance between himself and his apartment door, not further acknowledging the man leaning against the wall beside it. He let himself in and made to shut the door behind him, being thwarted by a boot wedged against the door jam.

“Now,” said the owner of the boot, pushing on the door until Mitch relented and opened it. “Is that any way to greet me?”

“This is my home, Stan.” Mitch sounded defeated. “You’re not supposed to just show up here. Remember? We’d agreed on that.”

Stan laughed mockingly, shutting and bolting Mitchs’ door behind himself once inside the apartment. “No. You told me not to show up here, and I chose to ignore that. There was no agreement ever reached.”

Mitch stopped himself from rolling his eyes as he crossed the living room to his couch where he sat down heavily, busying himself with unlacing his own boots. “Why are you here?”

“Came to give you this,” he dropped a folder down onto the counter in the kitchen, opening the fridge to look through its contents. “Jesus, it’s more barren in there than Irene.” Stan joked, shutting the fridge after. “You don’t even have a beer?”

“I don’t drink much,” Mitch supplied, tossing his shoes to the side. “As much as I don’t appreciate unannounced visits, I have to get showered. So. If you wouldn’t mind seeing yourself out, I’ll look at whatever that is when I get a chance.”

Stan shook his head, leaning back against the counter. “You’ll look at it now, Mitch.”

There was a moment where Mitch contemplated not even acknowledging Stan. His bathroom was feet away and he could easily make it there before Stan could stop him. His foot twitched a little, ready for him to move. He rose to his feet, his brain willing him to head for the bathroom, but his body made its way to the kitchen where he picked up the folder. “What is this?”

“Christ, can’t you read?”

Mitch glared down at the pages, figuring it better than glaring at Stan, and read over everything carefully. “Spain?”

“Yes.”

“In two days?”

“Yes, fuck. It says all of this shit in black and white right there, Mitch. Why do you keep fuckin’ asking me?”

“No thanks,” Mitch decided, tossing the folder to the counter.

Stan boomed a laugh, picked the folder up, and smacked Mitch with it on the side of the head. “You don’t have a fuckin’ choice in this, runt.”

Mitch’s jaw clenched, his eyes trained on the pages of the folder, his chest rising and falling with strain. He didn’t want to leave yet. Didn’t want a mission this soon. He had things to do, things to take care of. He had other pressing matters that needed tending to before anything for Stan and Irene. He closed the folder with the loud sound of pages slamming and tossed it to the counter. “I’ll be ready to ship out then.”

I’m not kidding. Feedback would be fuckin’ sick, thanks y’all. I love you. Hope you enjoyed this!

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purplesurveys · 5 years ago

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623

Do you actually think it's gross to talk about body functions? No, I’ve always thought it’s something that should be normalized. They’re just stuff that has to do with the body, it’s a natural thing. Would you rather sleep (zzz) alone or next to your SO? Sleeping with my girlfriend is always nicer. I wake up a couple times because she tends to put her head over mine or her legs over my entire body, but the sleep is just infinitely better. I’m more likely to sleep in, too. Are you trying to forget about something? Yes, actually. Thank you for being considerate. Have you ever sent a love letter? I don’t know what counts as a ~love letter, but I have handwritten several letters for my girlfriend over the years. When you look up at the sky do you ever NOT see a plane or vapor trail? Yes. Planes only come by every few hours where I live. They’d cross a lot more often in urban cities like Taguig or Pasay, which are right beside an airport.

Have you dated someone of another race? No. Probably worth nothing Gab is part Turkish but nevertheless, she identifies as Filipino. Do you wear any shoes with holes because you can't give them up? Not for that reason, but yeah I’ve done this. When I first started college, was horribly depressed, and didn’t care about my wardrobe just yet, I used to wear my super worn-out white Keds – the soles came off every time I took a step – because they were my only pair of sneakers and I didn’t care enough to get a new pair. When you go out to breakfast, what do you order? I never really get to do that because as a night owl, I hate going out for food too early in the day; but when my family does want to go out to get breakfast I like getting an Eggs Benedict. If we’re someplace simpler, I’m just as happy with pancakes with chocolate chips topped with whipped cream and peanut butter. Have you ever had a job that required a uniform? No. My internship company wasn’t strict and just asked me to report to work in smart casual. What's the best compliment you've gotten from a boss/teacher? I didn’t want to read my internship supervisor’s evaluation of me after I finished my stint but I got tempted to and felt great after – I don’t remember the exact words but basically she said she was astounded that I worked as well as I did for my age. That’s always nice to hear. As for high school, I was a bit of a headache for all my teachers so I never really got to hear compliments from any of them, which I deserve anyway. What's a weird or interesting nickname you gave someone? Does a dog count? :(( We’d sometimes call my dog Kimi ‘Kimi Chameleon’ inspired by the song Karma Chameleon. I’d occasionally call him Kimchi too. Is there a phrase or mantra you repeat when you are frightened? I’m not really sold on the idea of relying on a mantra when I’m in a stressful situation, because I don’t like the possibility of it disappointing me if I end up not getting what I want or if things don’t go my way. What are you most envious of? People born with loads of privilege. I won’t deny that I do have it myself especially in the Philippine context, but there’ll always be people who are one tier higher on this kind of tower, and I hate that. Do you have a friend with a habit that worries you? Tina is a workaholic and will literally forget to eat for 24 hours straight just trying to get a task done, and that is very worrisome. Would you rather have coffee, cocoa, tea, or soda? I have had had two cups of coffee today and zero water, so water would technically be the best option right now hahaha but it’s not in this set so I’ll go for the second best pick – cocoa. When you walk into your best friend's room, what do you smell? It smells like a clean bedroom with clean, fresh bedsheets. What can I say, their house helper keeps it very clean haha. Have you ever purposely broken something that belonged to a sibling? Nah, I’ve never been that spiteful even as a kid. Do you have any hipster friends? That’s not a term these days anymore but Gabie used to be a FULL-ON hipster. Everything about her four years ago just screamed it. Have you ever worked at the same place as your best friend? No. Do you like to visit famous people's homes? I mean I’ve never done it. Do you take days off from shaving when you can get away with it? Yesssssssss it can be so much work, so I like days where I can skip it. What color do you see when you shut your eyes tight? Just black. How would you react if you found out your crush had a terminal disease? Drive over to their house right now, cry a lot, and stay with them all night. Has anyone ever baked you cookies? Our house helper used to bake me cookies everyday when I’d get home from school back when I was in elementary. At one point they discontinued whatever cookie mix it was that my mom would buy and that was the end of the cookie-baking as we knew it. Such a shame tbh because that mix was so delicious :( What's the lamest present you've ever given? I’d never call any present I get lame. If someone got me a gift, that’s enough for me. Would you rather eat free hotdogs or pizza you pay for yourself? Pay for pizza. I feel like I’d get tired of hotdogs eventually, especally because it isn’t even one of my favorite food. Do you ever wear socks with holes in them? No, cos none of the socks I own have them. Is there anything hanging on your bathroom walls? Not hanging, but either taped or sticky-tacked. If your SO agreed, would you want an open relationship? Never. Have you ever slept with three people in the same bed? When? Why? Yes. It was my 18th birthday, I spent it with close friends (at the time) at the Marco Polo, and we shared a bed because it’d be impossible to ask for like, six separate beds for one hotel room. Does your family regularly eat sit down meals together? Only when my dad is home. When it’s just my mom and us, we can go with eating separately. Which is a little sad, but that’s that. Who would you like to slow dance with? To what song? Gab. I’ve always found the song Turning Page by Sleeping At Last to be so moving, so maybe that. What's your favorite pet name someone calls you? Meh, I’m pretty basic. I get called baby, I respond positively lmao. If you could talk to one species of animal what woud it be? Dog. It’d be nice to know what mine thinks about on a daily basis, haha. What's the largest animal you've ever seen in person? Probably an elephant. Have you ever used the change counting machine at a store or mall? No, we don’t have that here and had absolutely no idea that those were a thing. The first time I ever learned about them was in Ellen Degeneres’ video of her and Michelle Obama going to like a Target or something, and I was so AMAZED. That must be so convenient. Would you give mouth to mouth to your dog to save its life? Yes. If you came with a warning label, what would it say? ‘Will probably ask to have some of your food’ Hahaha AT LEAST I ASK Have you ever tried to learn a language on your own? Yes. I honestly cannot tell you how many times I’ve downloaded-deleted-downloaded Duolingo to learn Spanish and Korean. Where do you keep your change at home? I don’t keep change at home, everything’s just in my wallet. Have you ever had a pet destroy something valuable or important? It wasn’t very important but he did gnaw at my old radio’s cord. When I was in fifth grade I was very attached to my radio and him chewing at the cord was when I had to say bye to the radio. I wasn’t too devastated about it after, but I was still a little bummed of course. What's the best burger EVER? Pound’s Amsterdam Burger slaps harrrrrd. Did you ever show up late for an important event? Gab and I arrived embarrassingly late at a friend’s debut a couple of years ago. Our table definitely earned the right to give us death glares when we had finally arrived.

#survey #surveys

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fan-writer02 · 6 years ago

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Something

Hiccup was acting... strange.

And if that wasn't the understatement of the season. She knew Hiccup. Well, not know him, but, know what he's like, what he does, and how he behaves. I mean, it wasn't like she watched him, per se, (She's not a stalker, sheesh) she just noticed when he messed up, or when he made a lame joke at the mead hall. She didn't like to talk much, especially since the only people her age were absolute idiots. So, she observed. And Hiccup was an interesting one to watch.

She felt slightly guilty to admit that his fumbles amused her.

But while everyone seemed to think he messed up 24/7, she'd have to disagree. Because they only noticed his mistakes. Even his own father seemed to only acknowledge him for the things he did wrong. She knew he did his best, and, in some situations, he even succeeded.

She'd spotted sketches on the wall at the Forge, and she highly doubted they were Gobbers. She'd seen his sloppy excuses for "weaponry designs" first hand when he attempted to draw her a new axe. After much frustration, he threw up his hands (hand) in exasperation, called for Hiccup, and had her describe what she wanted. He disappeared into that little room of his, and returned not one minute later with papers in hand. The charcoal drawings were fantastic.

Sadly, as much as he longed to follow in his father's footsteps, she knew that it just wasn't for him. He wasn't built for that type of exhertion. He was brainly, if anything.

And don't mistake her acknowledgments as coddling. She didn't favor the scrawny kid. She was just being honest, like she tried to be with all matters.

Which was why the past day's events bothered her so much. Never, as in ever, had Hiccup succeeded when it came to dragon killing. His sloppy attempts were just that. Sloppy. And attempts. He'd never once succeeded.

So how did he manage to frighten a dragon- and not a small one either- into surrender, without even using a weapon? She'd only known one person who could do that, and that was Stoick. Stoick, who had burly muscles and years of experience under his belt.

It bothered her more then she'd like to admit.

She gnawed on her lip as she thought, staring at nothing as she fiddled absently with her fork. The "gang" chatted over their food, but the conversation was lost to her. She hated secrets. Hating not being aware. And she had a strong feeling Hiccup was hiding something.

"We could be falling off the edge of the world, and I don't think you'd notice." Ruffnut huffed under her breath, nudging her in the ribs with her elbow.

Astrid jerked away, doing a double take. "What?"

"Boy, you were gone."

Astrid frowned and tucked her hand under her chin "I'm thinking." she twirled her fork between her fingers.

Tuffnut tugged on Ruff's just then, distracting her before she could prompt Astrid for an answer. Which was a relief; she didn't feel like talking.

After popping the rest of her bread into her mouth, she stood and headed to the door. After dropping her plate at the wash bins, she slipped outside.

The cold air did her a favor, cutting to her skin and effectively slapping her out of whatever daze she'd allowed herself to fall into. So, with a shake of her head, she bounded down the steps. She jumped the last ten, landing easily on her feet.

But even the cold night air couldn't drive her thoughts away. Shortly after she set out down the street, her mind fell back again onto the last day's events. How... How had Hiccup threatened a dragon, when he was obviously so tiny. Even his voice wasn't intimidating.

It was then that she realized. This mystery was going to drive her absolutely insane.

With a growl, she kicked at a wayward stone in frustration. It bounced against a stack of crates, before smacking into a nearby building. Looking up, she realized she was in fact standing in front of the Forge. She paused, the sounds of scuffling coming from within. Curiosity got the best of her, so she stepped nearer to look inside the small dirty window.

It took her a moment to decipher anything through the grime that coated the thick glass. But even with the limited sight, it wasn't hard to figure out who the small figure was that bent over the work table.

There was a single candle lit in the Forge, but it sounded like Hiccup was hard at work. Things clanged, the sound of metal against metal, and the woosh of the billows could be heard. Carefully peering through the a neighboring grimy window, she watched as Hiccup rushed back and forth between the work bench and the glowing red ovens. He seemed to be mumbling to himself.

There was a strange contraption displayed on the table. Something like a ridiculously tiny sail. A mixture of cloth and mechanisms. It looked like nothing she'd ever seen before.

What is he doing? She watched as he, in his hurry, tripped over a bucket on his way to the ovens. He went down in a heap, disappearing behind a weapon rack. It was almost comical.

Astrid tried not to dwell on the fact that she let a small smile slip.

"Stupid-" he grumbled, getting back onto his feet and continuing to the ovens, albeit much more carefully then the previous attempt. Sitting on the billows, he jumped up and down a couple of times to build the fire.

She pulled away from the window and took a few steps down the street. It didn't feel right watching like that, without him knowing she was there. It felt too close to spying, no matter how curious she was. And even if she didn't like to, she stuck to her morals.

Now she was creeping, in a matter of speaking.

Sighing, and knowing the only way to get any answers out of him was to actually talk to him, she lifted her chin and entered the building. She wasn't exactly sure what she'd do... but anything had to be better then peaking through a window like a freaking four year old spying on the baker.

Walking briskly into the Forge with all the gusto she could muster, she plucked an axe out of a nearby barrel. For a few moments, she wondered if Hiccup had even noticed she was there, for he merely continued mumbling under his breath, bent over the weird contraption.

She clunked the axe against the wood, successfully stalling him. He jumped, head whipping around to stare at her with large eyes, his sweaty hair flopping over his forehead.

"A-ah, Astrid! Hi-" He scrambled to scrape his papers together into a semi- neat pile, shoving them into his apron pocket. He wiped his hands against his pants legs, but didn't move closer.

She watched all of this, eyeballing the papers cautiously.

"Wh-what can I do for you?" He stuttered awkwardly. She looked up at his face again, absently dragging her hand down the axe blade. She struggled to find something to say.

"Just looking." She eventually settled on. He swallowed noticeably, his adam's apple bobbing. She continued. "I heard the clanging from outside, and since everyone's at the Hall, I wanted to make sure a critter hadn't crawled in and was making a mess."

The excuse/fine-line-of-a-lie surprised her with how legit it sounded. She glanced about the room again, trying to make it look like she was indeed inspecting for the suggested animal.

He gave a lopsided smile. "Ha... n-no... just me."

She gave a small nod, looking again at the unfinished devise on the table.

He seemed to read her mind, for he hastily began fiddling with it again. "I'm just working, ya know, gotta be prepared for the next raid!" He said it almost too cheerfully, but she didn't know what to gather from that. She reasoned he had a good reason for being happy, he had done well in the Ring that day, after all.

"I see. Is that another arrow catapult?" She gestured towards the devise.

He blinked, then shook his head. She noticed the way he moved his arms in nervous gestures, how one minute they were jostling at his side, picking at his sleeve, or bouncing from tool to tool. They were constantly moving.

Now, they moved from his apron pockets to the contraption behind him. He laughed nervously again.

"Um... just an experiment. Probably won't become much. In fact, you have a good point- I should just scrap it all together." He began picking up the small pieces around it, dumping them in a cup. Looking over, he peered out from behind his bangs. "Y-You sure you don't need anything..?"

She looked from him to the "experiment", then back to him. It boggled her, because he was acting like he normally did. Dorky, constantly tweaking his inventions, clumsy, and awkward. If she hadn't known about what had happened in the ring that day, she'd never have given his antics a second thought. It bugged her, because she knew that something... something was up.

But gosh darn it, she couldn't figure out what the heck it was.

"Ah... I think I'm good. Like I said, just checking in." She flipped the axe back into the barrel, before turning on her heal and ducking out the door. She paused outside for a few moments, going over everything that had just happened. Nothing odd came to mind. He was just... hiding something. And doing it disturbingly well.

Furrowing her brow, she crossed her arms and continued home.

I have absolutely no clue what this is, or what it's trying to be. It was more of a word vomit to get over this writers block then it was an actual story.

Yesterday, I decided to reread some of my older one-shots. Like the last chapter/story in my HTTYD Requested One-shots. And like... they're actually not half bad. Before reading them I always thought they were crap, ya know... but now, going back, I've realized how out of touch I've grown with my writing skills. And with all of this HTTYD 3 news and hype, I'm really starting to miss how obsessed I once was with the series.

So guess what. I'm gonna sit down during my free time -like while I'm drawing, instead of watching youtube videos- I'm gonna rewatch RTTE. I haven't watched that show in months, and tbh, I'm so excited to revisit it. Hopefully that'll get me back into the "fandom", so to speak. Just back into the mood. I miss it so much, and I'm really starting to miss the tumblr fandom as well. As much as I hate tumblr on a whole, I do miss the few nice people I'd met there. I've even contemplated returning (especially in the past couple of days). So who knows. But, I also wanna give you some of my plans for the new year.

I do want to keep writing (well, pick up writing again is probably a better way to put it), and not just for HTTYD. I'll probably write some stuff for Marvel as well, here and there, especially after Avengers 4/Engame, but I also really really want to write more HTTYD. And you know, if that means joining tumblr again to get into the "mood", then so be it!

The reason for all of this might be because we/I moved this past Fall, and I'm homesick as heck. And because of it, I'm also really sick for what I used to do back home. Like fangirling over fandoms.

I've been so set on growing up this past year. Of... going out of my comfort zone, that I pushed away my fandoms and the friends I'd made through those fandoms. (animalsarepeople2, katurdi, thepurplewriter333 *hugs*) And I am just lonely. I miss hanging out with online friends, especially now that I've moved and all of the few friends I had are back home. I miss you guys.

But, one good thing came out of this whole "year of growth". I've learned how to manage my time on the internet. I used to spend too much time obsessing over fandoms at such an unhealthy level, that all my free time was spent in my room in my bed on my phone. This past year I've been working more, hanging out with family, etc. I've learned to limit myself to what I do online.

So yeah, sorry for such a long A/N. Just wanted to give you the 2019 update. Expect me to return, even if it is slow at first. Wish my luck, and the happiest of New Year to you all! Love you, and thanks for all the support. *hugs*

Toodles-

Kat

(P.S. If you guys find any typing/grammar errors plz lemme know! I want to up my editing game. :D)

#httyd fanfiction #httyd 1 #hiccup #astrid #dragons #mywriting #hiccstrid #kinda #httyd #how to train your dragon #yooo I'm back #Don't bother reading the A/N it's really long and rambly #long story short #I THINK I'm returning :DD

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botanistlester · 7 years ago

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Sweet Pea (15/34)

Summary: A nickname that goes bitter in your mouth. Cries for help that no one listens to. Gentle hands that make you quake on the ground you’re standing on. When Phil first met Nico, he thought he was a gift from the heavens. But behind the mask lies something daunting, something unnerving, that Phil never foresaw. Through his journey, he finds solace in Dan, the regular at his workplace, who seems to be the only one who sees through Nico’s mask to the darkness underneath. Warnings: Abusive relationship, violence A/N: warnings for this chapter are violence (a hole punched in the wall), slut shaming, verbal abuse, manipulation. this chapter went down a bit differently than it happened irl, but i did base this off of a real experience id learned about from a friend. The way this part of my story went down involved self harm and multiple people telling me to kill myself, and i really did not want to put that sort of thing into this fic because i dont think i could write about that in detail tbh. thanks to @snowbunnylester for editing this for me! The lyrics at the beginning of this fic are from the song The Summer by Citizen!

I have started a patreon account for those of you who would like to support me and my writing endeavors! You can find my patreon account here, and also find more information about perks of this here!

Previous | Masterlist

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Chapter Fifteen

I watched you burn and I felt it. You're spitting words like you're someone else. And I watched you run, I was screaming and following you down.

“It’s been four days,” Nico told Phil, making him cringe and gnaw harshly at his lip.

“Yeah,” Phil agreed. He swallowed, tried again. “It has.” That wasn’t what he’d wanted to say at all. What he’d meant to ask was if Nico had found someone else in the meantime, if he’d found someone who was actually worth his while. If he’d found someone better.

He didn’t want Nico to have found someone better. He wanted Nico to love him and only him. He wanted to be Nico’s one and only, but- wait. Didn’t Phil want him to leave? Didn’t he want Nico to pack his shit up and never look at him again? There was a bruise on Phil’s cheek and a dull ache in Phil’s chest, and shit, what should he do? What should he do? What could anyone do in this sort of situation?

Nico let out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking his head. He sounded so mad at Phil, so disappointed, that Phil felt nausea raise in his throat once more. “I have to admit, I didn’t exactly think you’d find someone else so quickly. Or that you’d… change your appearance.” Nico grimaced at this, and Phil grimaced too. He didn’t think Nico had noticed his tongue piercing yet, but clearly, the nose ring had been enough.

“Dan is just a friend,” Phil told him. “I couldn’t replace you that quickly.” Phil froze, realising how that sounded. It sounded as though Phil had decided to break up with Nico, and that wasn’t what he’d wanted to come across as. He still was unsure of what he wanted, but he knew that he could never truly replace Nico. With anyone.

For a split second, Nico went completely silent. Phil held his breath, wishing more than anything in the world that he could just disappear. He couldn’t deal with this right now. He didn’t think he could physically handle this.

The second of silence was gone before Phil could blink, and then, it happened in a flash.

Nico had been standing completely still, but in the next moment, there was a fist colliding into Phil’s wall, leaving a giant hole in it’s wake.

“Wha-?!” Phil exclaimed, jerking violently backwards in fright, but also distracted by the fact that he now had to pay for that hole.

Nico silenced him by grabbing his jaw with that same hand that had just breached the drywall. Phil froze at the touch, his body on fire, confused and twisting this way and that. What did he want? What did he want?

Nico lifted Phil’s head until their gazes were connected and Nico’s green stare was burning a hole through Phil’s head. Phil felt more nausea raise in his throat, his stomach twist in agonizing pain. “I’m not a fucking idiot, sweet pea.”

That nickname. Was it even Phil’s anymore? Did he deserve such a nickname after everything he’d done to their relationship? After he’d lied and snuck around and bailed on the only person who’d truly loved and cared for him? After he’d hurt Nico in the one way he’d always promised he never would, by leaving him?

He wasn’t so sure anymore.

“I swear,” Phil whimpered, quivering in Nico’s grasp. His jaw was hurting slightly where Nico was gripping him, but it was nothing in relation to the pain he had felt in his chest since less than a week ago. He didn’t know if Dan had heard the way Nico had punched the wall, but judging by the way his bedroom door stayed firmly shut, he assumed that Dan hadn’t heard. “I swear I didn’t find anyone else. I couldn’t. Not when you mean so much to me.”

“Then how do you explain your piercings, hmm?” Nico hummed, and Phil had no explanation for that. In Nico’s eyes, tongue piercings were for sluts, and he had just gotten one out of spite. So what else could that make him other than a huge whore? “I thought you were better than everyone, sweet pea. But I guess I was wrong again.”

Phil inhaled sharply and flinched. He tried to control his emotions, to stand up for himself, but it was hard. He could feel himself crumbling underneath the accusations, underneath the mere proximity of Nico’s body to his own. He was sinking into a dark abyss, one that he didn’t know how to dig himself out of. “I- I am better than everyone,” Phil gasped out. “Ple- please don’t leave me. I can’t do this without you. I don’t…” his eyes welled up with tears. What was he saying? “I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

Nico leaned a bit closer so that Phil could feel his breath fanning across his face. His lips were so close that Phil could probably press his own against them it he wanted to, but he held himself back because he wasn’t sure he was allowed. Nico’s eyes were green fire when he replied. “It’s already been three days, though. Shame. I was ready to take you back, but you didn’t want me.”

“I do!” Phil said desperately, even though his brain was screaming at him to run away and never look back. “I do want you! Please, Nico. Please don’t leave me!” He was begging now, panicking. How would he be able to survive without Nico? Nico was the only person who would love him, the only person who made him happy.

These past four days had shown Phil that he couldn’t live without him.

“Prove it, then,” Nico told him. “Take out those dumb piercings and stop behaving like a slut. Stop talking to Dan. I want you to keep your eyes on me and only me.”

Phil was nodding along with every word, his eyes tracing the way Nico’s mouth shaped each sentence. His body was thrumming with nerves and adrenaline. He was high on it, his head all over the place. Truth be told, he didn’t know exactly why he had been considering leaving Nico in the first place. “Anything for you,” Phil told him, and Nico smiled.

“Good boy.”

Just then, Nico pressed his lips against Phil. His lips were rough and chapped, more so than Phil could remember. At first, he sank into it, relieved that he could have this once more after those four long days without - it was familiar and felt a little bit like home - but Nico was being harsh. He bit and pulled and tugged at Phil’s new piercing hard enough to make it bleed. Phil cried out a little bit, and all he could taste was blood as Nico tried to deepen the kiss. Suddenly, it wasn’t so nice anymore. The pain cleared his head a little bit.

His lips went numb.

His brain went into overdrive.

There was a hole in the wall. There was a healing bruise on his cheek. His friend was in the other room, worried for his safety. He was sobbing into the kiss, his tears staining his cheeks. The kiss tasted of tears and blood, when it should honestly be the happiest moment of his life.

Suddenly, Phil couldn’t feel a goddamned thing anymore.

Phil pushed Nico off of him with all of his strength without thinking, ignoring the fact that Nico had been biting him so harshly his lip actually tore as well. “Get the fuck off of me,” he said lowly.

“Phil, what the fuck?” Nico exclaimed, his voice raising an octave or two. His eyes were wild, angry, confused… scared.

In that moment, Phil didn’t give two shits about anything. He couldn’t feel anymore, couldn’t feel the blood dripping from his lip, couldn’t feel the usual tingles from the close proximity to Nico. All he could feel was emptiness, a numbness that wouldn’t seem to disperse no matter how hard he tried.

“Don’t touch me,” Phil ordered Nico, adrenaline rushing through his bones. He could feel a sob rising in his chest but he tried to hold it back, tried to stay strong for once. He couldn’t live like this. He shouldn’t have to live like this. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Nico sneered at him, and Phil dodged it just in time before Nico could grab at him again. He kept his gaze on everything but Nico. The wall, the floor, the ceiling. Anywhere but the man who had smashed his heart into pieces. “Make up your mind, sweet pea,” Nico growled, and his voice wasn’t warm at all anymore. Had it ever been? “You either want me, or you don’t. Is it really that hard of a decision?”

“Yes!” Phil said, and the sob escaped from his throat. He started backing away, shaking his head, although he didn’t know why. “Just- just stay away from me.”

“So what, then? You’re having trouble deciding if you want me ,but you want me to stay away from you? Is that how that works? You don’t make any fucking sense, sweet pea.”

Each time Nico used the nickname, Phil felt a little part of him shrivel up and die. He was hyperventilating at this point, unable to capture his breath or help himself try to gain some strength again. For such a long time, he had felt as though that nickname was a part of him. It used to make him feel whole, feel wanted. Now, it felt like a taunt. It felt like chains wrapping around his ankles, forcing him to submit, forcing him to lose his independence all over again. He didn’t want this. He felt nauseous and he didn’t want this anymore.

But he was scared. He was so scared that he couldn’t move. Nico’s gaze was terrifying, cold, almost like he didn’t recognise who Phil was at all. Instead, Phil was suddenly a piece of food that Nico had dropped and didn’t want anymore. He was used and impure and he felt so dirty, like he needed another hour long shower where his skin burned off and blistered under the heat.

He didn’t want this anymore.

He steeled himself, tried to swallow down the bile in his throat, tried to look into Nico’s eyes and not waver under the glare. He took a breath.

“I don’t want this anymore,” he said as firmly as he could, even though his voice was wobbling and he was terrified. “I’m keeping the piercings. I’m going to keep being Dan’s friend. You don’t own me anymore.”

For a moment, the room was completely silent. For a moment, Phil actually thought that Nico was going to leave. For a moment, it didn’t really hit Phil that the silence might just be that he’d pissed Nico off even more, but then, Nico spoke up through gritted teeth, his hands balled into fists, and Phil realised that maybe he’d acted a bit fucking stupid.

“You… fucking slut,” Nico growled, and he raised his fist in the air, making Phil cower into the wall behind him. He was going to get hit again, and he braced himself for the flash of pain.

It didn’t come.

Instead, Nico’s fist went through the wall again and Phil heard the door to the other room open.

“You worthless piece of shit. Do you think you’re better than me? Do you think you can just leave me like I’m nothing? After everything you’ve done to me? After everything I’ve done for you?” He pulled his fist back again and slammed it into the wall again, right next to Phil’s head.

“Stop!” Phil gasped out, ducking out of the way and trying to run around Nico, but Nico grabbed his arm, held him in place, and now Phil was really terrified. What was he going to do to him? What should Phil even expect when his perception of Nico had so drastically changed in only a few short weeks?

In that next moment, Phil thought he was going to get hit. He braced for the feeling of Nico’s fist in his face, of his hands around his neck, suffocating him the way he’d done with the pillow so long ago, when he’d pressed the sharp edge of the knife to his throat, but nothing came. Instead, Nico was being roughly shoved away from him, pushed so hard that he stumbled backwards and nearly fell flat on his face. Phil turned his head, and gaped at Dan who’d suddenly appeared in front of him, a wall between Phil and the man who was threatening him. Phil had always thought Nico was so big despite his stature, but now, next to Dan’s intimidating aura, he was small, so miniscule that Phil felt like he had to squint to see him.

“If you dare lay a hand on him, I will fucking kill you,” Dan growled, and never before had Phil found Dan actually scary before, but today all of Phil’s previous perceptions were being turned on their head and Phil found himself trying to hide the way he flinched at the dangerous tone to Dan’s voice, his blood roaring in his ears.

In only a millisecond, Nico was standing tall once more, squaring his shoulders as if he could make Dan back down. For a moment, they were the same height and Phil was just an ant on the ground.

“Oh really?” Nico laughed harshly. “I’d like to see you do anything to me. You mean nothing to me and I could easily crush you in my palm.”

“If that’s what it takes to keep Phil safe, then I’ll take you up on that offer,” Dan told him sincerely, never losing the threatening tone. He didn’t move from where he was standing strategically in front of Phil, his arms crossed over his chest, keeping a space between Nico and Phil.

Once again, Phil was reminded of how lucky he was to have Dan as a friend.

Phil watched as Nico’s hands turned to fists at his sides, his mouth curling into an angry grimace, darker and more terrifying than Phil had ever seen before. He watched as Nico took a step forward, and his mind flashed to the stories Nico had told him about his father. For a moment, just one moment, Phil felt bad for Nico, and then the feeling was gone and Phil felt his heart clench in fear for what was about to happen to him and Dan.

That’s when the sound of sirens exploded throughout the flat. Normally, Phil wouldn’t think anything of it, except now, there were flashing lights reflecting in his flat, on the furniture, the ceiling, and they weren’t going away.

Phil shot Dan a confused glance, and Dan shot Phil a shrug and a wide-eyed glance right back.

“Did you call the fucking cops?” Nico asked, faltering in his movements towards Dan, lowering his fists, and instead clenching his hands tight at his sides. Phil thought he was probably digging his fingernails into his palm.

His glare was on Dan, accusing him of something Phil wasn’t entirely sure of himself.

Dan shook his head. “No, but I fucking should have.”

An urgent knock came at the door, followed by a man shouting to open up, that it was the police, and that he’d break the door down if he had to. Nico kept his glare on Dan and Phil as he slowly backed away, inching his way towards the door, trying to reach it before either Dan or Phil could react, could say anything, or get it for him. Dan glared right back, and Phil looked at the floor, shaking like a leaf, and terrified of what was going to happen next.

He heard Nico open the door.

“What can I help you with?” he asked.

Phil glanced up briefly to see that he had wedged himself between the door and the frame so that the cops couldn’t see inside. Phil didn’t know why he’d done that. Didn’t that make him even more suspicious?

“We’ve gotten complaints about loud banging noises and screaming coming from inside. Is everything alright in here?”

“Everything is just fine, no need to worry,” Nico said sweetly.

The blatant lie made Dan laugh, and Phil’s head shot up so that he could give Dan a wide eyed stare, begging him not to do anything drastic. Everything was just fine. Phil didn’t even know why someone had called the cops. Didn’t they know nothing was wrong? Phil could handle this. They could handle this. They didn’t need the police to get involved. Nico wasn’t like his father. There was nothing dangerous going on… right?

But Dan spoke up anyways, taking a deep breath, and then shouting, “Help us, please! He’s trying to hurt us!” before Phil could do anything to stop him.

“Dan!” Phil hissed, but he stayed rooted to the spot, terrified, unable to speak up any louder and try to defend the man he’d once professed to love, the man he still loved. Didn’t he? He could feel Nico’s fury wafting off of him in waves, could feel the weight of his glare on his skin, and Phil wanted nothing more than to melt into the floorboards.

“Who was that?” the police officer asked.

Nico’s head snapped back around to the police officer on the other side of the door, and Phil watched as he worked a pleasant expression on his face and laughed so easily that Phil suddenly wondered if everything about Nico was a complete and utter lie.

“Nothing, officer. Just my mates having a good laugh,” he explained.

But Dan wasn’t having that. Phil’s eyes darted back and forth from Dan to Nico and back to Dan, watching as Nico tried to close the door more tightly against himself, as Dan’s face went a deep, angry shade of red, and then Dan was calling out all over again.

“He’s lying! Please! Help us, he threatened to kill us!”

There was a brief scuffle at the door, a muffled, “Step aside, son,” and the loud sound of the door banging open, but Phil had long since closed his eyes. His heart was in his throat, and all he could think was, if Nico hadn’t been planning on killing them before, he sure as hell was now.

Would he take the police officer down with him? Would they all be slaughtered? Some deep, dark place inside of Phil laughed and thought good, I don’t want to live without Nico anymore.

But nothing of the sort happened. Instead, there was the sound of static from a radio, the gentle touch of Dan’s hand on Phil’s arm, the voice of a confused police officer asking for back up, the movement of extra feet and boots on the floor. Phil’s eyes were squeezed shut in terror, and before he could even think it through of what it would look like, he was slamming his hands over his ears and cowering in on himself, shaking his head as tears started to run warm down his cheeks.

Everything was happening too fast. Everything was moving too quick. Phil could hear his head screaming. There was mutters of holes in the drywall, bruising on cheeks, blood dripping from lips, and then Nico was being read his rights. Phil opened his eyes just in time to see Nico being cuffed, and more police officers trailing into Phil’s apartment with steady footsteps and glares as they took a look around.

As Nico was being turned and led away, Nico turned to give Phil a nasty look. Phil watched in horror as Nico suddenly got a twisted smile on his face, how he let out a loud, booming laugh.

“I didn’t need you anyway, sweet pea,” Nico told him, and he was smiling despite the way he had to twist his body to turn and look at Phil. “Chandler was a much better fuck than you ever were.”

In just a single sentence, Phil felt himself break. He tore his eyes away from Nico and tried to calm the way his heart felt as though it were going to collapse. Dan came to sit beside him, putting a hand on his back and rubbing it soothingly, but it didn’t do anything for Phil. He couldn’t seem to wrap his head around what he had heard, what Nico had just disclosed.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

The text messaging. The way Nico wouldn’t hold his hand in public. Chandler’s jealousy. Sweet pea.

Phil was a fucking idiot, and maybe he did deserve what had happened to him after all.

One of the other officers came over to talk to Dan and Phil while they were getting Nico situated, and it was Dan who gave the statement, talking about how he had come out of the room to the sound of a loud banging noise, only to find Nico with his fist raised and his hand wrapped firmly around Phil’s arm to keep him in place. The man asked Phil for his statement, but Phil was too shocked, too upset to speak, so they told him that he would be able to do it a little bit later if he wanted to. The police officer's voice was soft and gentle, and he got down on one knee to tell Phil that he was not alone, that he could testify if he wanted to, that Nico wouldn’t ever be able to touch him again if he said so, but Phil was hardly listening. He didn’t know why the police officer was speaking to him like that; Nico had done nothing wrong, other than break Phil’s heart.

Phil just wanted to sleep. He was exhausted, felt as though the energy had completely drained from his body. He felt numb. His lips were still tingling from where Nico had kissed him, and he could still feel his tears dripping down his cheeks, but he felt as though he were a ghost, watching from outside his body as the police jotted down notes and Dan ran his mouth about Phil’s apparently unhealthy relationship.

He mentioned the word abuse, and Phil ended up puking on the floor.

Things happened. Phil was laid down on the couch by some paramedics, checked for bruises, checked for any sign of physical harm. They didn’t really find much. Just swollen eyes from crying and a faded bruise on his cheek. They didn’t find the mental scars that had taken over his brain and decorated his ribcage. He decided then that emotional pain was worse than the physical.

You could always have doctors patch up the bruises and the cuts, but no doctor would be able to patch up the painful memories that haunted Phil everywhere he went.

Chapter Sixteen

#sp #sweet pea #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #botanistfics #botanistlester #phan angst #phan chaptered

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trash-the-tozier · 7 years ago

Text

The Disappearance of Georgie Denbrough (4/10)

Title: The Disappearance of Georgie Denbrough

Length ~60.8k (~6.9k for this part)

Summary: The summer between junior and senior year of high school, Bill’s little brother Georgie goes missing.

Warnings: It’s relatively canon-typical in terms of content. For this part there’s explicit language, vague mentions of child neglect, vague description of sexual abuse, description of a corpse, lots of gay

Pairings: eventual Richie/Eddie and Ben/Beverly

A/N: just a head’s up: beverly’s dad is in this part! and he’s a huge bag of dicks. hopefully the reddie will make up for it though. also posted to my ao3 here (much more readable tbh) Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3

“I got you ice cream.”

Bill watched as Eddie held out a cone with a huge vanilla scoop on it in Richie's direction. He had two, one of them obviously his and already licked on. His voice completely lacked enthusiasm, Stan snorting in amusement, but Bill noticed that Beverly was grinning. Richie gripped at his chest as though he'd just been shot.

“Eds! You shouldn't have!”

Then he leaned forwards, leaned completely past the ice cream Eddie was extending to him, and licked at the one Eddie was holding close to his body. Eddie shrieked and recoiled, and Richie laughed at him.

“That one's mine! I was already eating it!”

“Oh!” Richie's eyes widened with a mock innocence. “My mistake!” He reached for the one Eddie was trying to give him, who snatched it back.

“Nope. Mine now. You get the one with your germs all over it.”

Richie accepted without complaint, licking the ice cream again.

“Hm. Vanilla with a side of Eddie.”

Eddie scrunched up his nose. “You're disgusting.”

Richie just winked.

“Hey guys!” Ben walked up happily, waving. He looked much better today, Bill noted, than he had the days previous, waving back. Beverly greeted him when he arrived, and now they were just waiting for Mike. Bill was feeling near exhausted with anxiety. Everything that Mike had shared with them yesterday had been both good and bad, both fitting and terrifying, and part of him wished he’d never heard it. But he had something to go on now. Georgie hadn’t fallen into the sewer; he’d been taken there. But Betty Ripsom had been taken only a week before Georgie had, and if she was already dead, if the clown really had been holding her body… They needed to find him as fast as they could.

As if in compliance with his thoughts, Mike came into view, riding fast on his bicycle.

“Sorry.” He gasped. “I’m late.”

He wasn’t--they’d never set up a time to meet--but Bill wasn’t about to tell him to slow down, Mike talking in a rush about how he’d had to take a detour because he thought he’d seen Bowers’s car.

“It’s probably free now, though.” He said. “We can cut across the creek to get there.”

Nodding, they set off walking. Beverly walked next to him, Ben on her other side while Stan trailed behind, striking up a small conversation with Mike. Eddie and Richie flitted around the group, bickering lightly like they always did as they finished their ice creams. Bill supposed their banter would be amusing if he was paying it attention, but it was near impossible to distract his mind from the task ahead. Part of him wished he could, but any time that he spent not looking for Georgie always haunted him, coming back to him as time wasted, time he was letting his brother suffer.

Richie ran ahead as the creek came into view. He let out a shout as soon as he reached the edge of the water, throwing out his arms and skidding to a stop so suddenly that Eddie ran into him and nearly fell down.

“What?” Stan asked. They all hurried over, Beverly cursing under her breath.

“Is… Is that…?”

Laying face up in the creek, eyes wide, bobbing lightly as the current rushed around it was the head, torso, and left arm of a girl. She was pale, bloated, and blue from the water, her dark brown hair a mess around her face. Despite all this, Bill recognized her instantly. He’d seen her enough times, looking into her eyes for a moment before stapling Georgie’s missing poster overtop of her own.

“B-B-Betty Ripsom.”

“Fuck.” Eddie twisted one of his hands into the back of Richie’s shirt, the other grappling with the zipper of his fanny pack as his breathing became increasingly quick and labored. “Shit.”

Stan stumbled over, but as soon as he looked down into the water he turned his back, his body heaving, and soon he was vomiting in a patch of grass a few paces away.

“We…” Ben looked incredibly pale, his eyes on everything except the body in the water. “The police. Someone. We need to tell someone.”

“I’ll go.” Mike said instantly, jumping on his bike. He was out of sight soon enough, struggling to race through the overgrown grass. Richie had gone over to comfort Stan, rubbing his back as he dry-heaved, Eddie still clutching onto him, inhaler in hand, struggling his breathing under control. Bill continued to look down, the corpse’s wide, dead, cold eyes boring into him.

“Stop!” Beverly took his chin in her hand, wrenching his eyes away. “Stop staring at her, I can’t stand it.”

Her eyes were bright, alive, and warm, though she looked close to tears.

“S-sorry.” He mumbled.

“You just… You looked so terrible. I’m sorry.” Beverly let him go. “I--”

“Georgie was j-just a w-w-week later.” Bill said. “A w-week after s-s-she went missing. A-and… If she’s already d-d-d-d-d…”

He couldn’t get the word out, Beverly meeting his eyes again.

“We’ll find him, okay?” She said fiercely. “We’re going to find him.”

The conviction in her voice made something inside of him crack, and she must have felt it because she pulled him in tightly for a hug. Her arms were around him so strongly that it hurt, but Bill knew that if she let up on her grip, even a little bit, he would fall apart.

The questioning from the police took hours. Most of it was waiting around, instructed not to go anywhere as each of the seven of them had individual statements about their discovery taken one at a time. Eddie couldn’t help but feel that they were suspects now, especially with the way one of the policemen kept glancing sideways at where they were sitting--Mike moreso than the rest of them--as he walked by. Ben patted his arm and told him he was just being paranoid, but the feeling gnawed at him anyway.

By the time they’d all spoken, Betty’s body had been recovered from the water and transported to the station. It was on a gurney and covered in a blue tarp, and in a weird way not being able to see it made it all the worse, watching in silence as it was rolled past. The police offered to call their parents, and Bill was the only one that accepted, thinking that they would want to know. The parents of Betty Ripsom were alerted too, showing up not much later, and they watched as Betty’s mother fell apart, sinking to the floor, her husband kneeling next to her in tears. It came as a relief when Eddie looked at the clock and realized it was half past four. His mother insisted that he be home by five o’clock for the rest of the week, and if he wanted to make it in time, he would have to leave soon.

None of them were upset by his announcement, abandoning the plan to go to Mike’s and pushing it to tomorrow instead. For this, Eddie was glad; none of them--but definitely not Bill, judging by the expression on his face--needed talk of a killer clown after what they had been through that day.

Mrs. Denbrough offered everyone rides home but only Ben and Beverly accepted, Eddie heading out the police station doors with Richie next to him. Eddie hadn’t asked if they could walk together and Richie hadn’t offered, but Richie went all the way up to his front door, comfortable silence keeping distance between them.

“Hey, Eddie?” Richie stopped him before he went inside, placing a hand on his arm. Eddie swallowed.

“Yeah?”

“D’you think you could… Could you leave your bedroom window unlocked tonight?” Richie’s head was angled down, his bangs falling in front of his face, his grip on Eddie’s arm a little tighter than it needed to be, and Eddie’s heart ached.

“Yeah, sure. Course I will.”

Richie gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, his hand trailing down Eddie’s arm and falling to his side.

“Thanks.”

Eddie frowned. He reached up, needlessly readjusting Richie’s glasses.

“You don’t need to thank me. I told you that you can come over whenever you need me, regardless of what my mom says. I meant it, Richie.”

Richie laughed a little.

“Nah. If you really meant it I’d be moving in with you, Eds.”

At a loss for anything else to do or say, Eddie hit Richie lightly in the arm.

“...don’t call me Eds.”

“You love it.”

“Shut up.”

Then Richie began his own walk home, Eddie watching him turn down the street before finally going into his own house. He was in love with Richie Tozier, and it was much more than a little bit.

Richie didn’t usually ask first, when he spent the night at Eddie’s. Usually he just knocked on the window, gripping onto the trellis for dear life until Eddie relented and let him in. Richie didn’t ever say why he was there, but over the years Eddie had been able to guess. Hunger, or nightmares, or a fight with his father on one of the rare nights of the month that the man was home. But this time felt different, and it made Eddie nervous, and before he knew it he’d cleaned the entirety of his already-orderly room. Richie would make fun of him for that.

It was late when Richie finally showed up, opening the window without Eddie’s help, rolling onto his bed and knocking three books off his desk with his foot and laughing at the loud noise they made against the floor. Eddie shushed him violently and whacked him with a pillow, but he was giggling too.

“Hey, Spaghetti Man.”

Eddie took him in for a minute, then his mouth fell open.

“You didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” Richie was trying to give him an innocent expression but was failing marvelously, the ghost of a smile playing around his lips.

“You did not walk all the way to my house in your underwear!”

“That’s what it looks like to me!” Richie, who was lying on his bed in nothing but his boxer shorts and a huge bag of a t-shirt, lifted his legs up into the air, white and lanky and completely bare. Eddie slapped them back down. “What? It’s hot out there! Besides, I’ve gotta be ready at the drop of a hat for my lover Sonia Kaspbr--”

“Put on pants or you can’t stay.” Eddie interrupted flatly, and after laughing some more, Richie did as he was told. He put on a pair of Eddie’s shorts, and once he had them on Eddie didn’t really know why he’d been so insistent; Richie’s legs were so long that the pants didn’t cover much more than the underwear had, but at least it helped Eddie feel a little less flustered. Richie made a big show of taking off his glasses and getting comfy under Eddie��s covers before turning on his side, facing the window, and Eddie slid in beside him. Their sleepovers weren’t about hanging out, playing games or talking for hours. They were about not being alone.

Still though, Eddie had expected a little more than this. Finally, he decided to ask about it.

“Hey, Richie?”

“Yeah?” Richie turned, seemingly surprised to see Eddie already facing him.

“Could I ask you something?”

“What, how I came to be so devilishly handsome? Well, it was a fateful day in 1976, and--”

“No, no. Shut up.”

Richie seemed to realize that he was trying to be serious, falling silent immediately.

“I just wanted to know…” Eddie didn’t really know how to phrase his question. He went as simple as possible. “Are you okay?”

Richie didn’t know how to answer that. He didn’t really want to, either; the idea behind coming over to Eddie’s for the night was to run away from all of the thoughts that had been consuming his mind during silences, not confronting and actually talking about them. Richie didn’t talk things through. He was on a mission to repress until he died.

“What do you mean?” He wanted to know how little he could get away with as an answer. Eddie thought for a moment, biting down lightly on his bottom lip.

“Just… You’ve been acting different. Ever since Georgie disappeared, something has been off, and today...”

Richie didn’t know why he thought he’d be able to hide anything from someone as empathetic as Eddie Kaspbrak. Bill was relatively dense when it came to other people’s feelings, and Stan only offered help if he thought a person really needed it. But that wasn’t Eddie.

“It’s just…” Richie let out a breath. He had to actually do this. “When I was little, like six or something, my parents bought me a cat.”

It was obvious by Eddie’s expression that this wasn’t what he’d expected to hear, and Richie almost wanted to laugh. He’d never told anyone about this before.

“I’d thrown a tantrum, because neither of them had been home on my birthday. They’d both forgotten, and I knew they had, and they tried to lie that they hadn’t, but I wasn’t hearing it. So they went and bought me a cat. An attempt to fix it, I guess. I don’t know. They didn’t buy anything the cat needed though, so I couldn’t take care of him. After two weeks, he ran away.”

Eddie frowned, moving as though to touch him before seemingly thinking better of it.

“But… He’s never really felt gone.” Richie said, hoping that would cheer Eddie up a little. “It wasn’t like I saw him die. He just… Went somewhere else. It’s a weird feeling, but I was reminded of it when people started disappearing around here. It’s how I think my parents would feel, if I actually decided to run away. Just… Somewhere else. They just went somewhere else.”

“But now Betty Ripsom is dead.” Eddie said quietly, and Richie nodded.

“Betty Ripsom is dead, and I’m just… I’m scared.” He confessed. “I’m scared for Bill. I’m scared that I’ll disappear, that those missing posters will have my face on them. Betty Ripsom is dead, and Georgie could be dead, and I would be dead, and…” Richie had to stop. His throat hurt, and his eyes were burning. A panic was stirring in his chest, a feeling he’d been fighting to keep in since Stan had shown up outside his door in the rain.

“Richie.” Eddie reached out, touching the side of his face lightly. “You’re right here, and you’re not going anywhere. You won’t disappear, okay? I won’t let you.”

Eddie was looking into his eyes, his fingertips soft against Richie’s cheek, his expression steadfast and completely serious and in that moment Richie had the incredibly strong, inexplicable urge to lean forward and kiss him. He wanted to kiss the breath out of Eddie’s lungs, kiss him until the rest of the world fell away, and it startled him so much that at first, he didn’t notice Eddie moving closer to him.

He started backwards on instinct but Eddie didn’t let him get very far, reaching out with his arms and wrapping around him, pressing his face in the crook of Richie’s neck.

“Ed--”

“Shut up and let me hug you.”

Richie did.

To everyone’s relief, the next day, they properly made it to Mike’s house. It was a large, incredibly old farmhouse, but they didn’t stay inside of it long. After getting everyone something to drink after the long walk over, Mike led them back outside and into the barn. The sheep stared at them as they entered. Stan wasn't afraid of animals per se, but he liked smaller ones better--birds and bunnies, for instance--and felt a little uneasy around any creatures that were larger than a good sized dog. Mike seemed to notice, putting a hand on his back.

“It’s okay, they only bite if you give them a reason to.” He said, which wasn't exactly reassuring.

“Just like me.” Richie tacked on, snapping his teeth in Stan’s direction and winking. By that time, they'd gathered everyone else's attention.

“Is S-Stan afraid of t-t-the sheep?” Bill asked. He looked painfully sleep deprived again, but Stan was glad to hear amusement in his voice.

“No.” Stan snapped, maybe a little too waspishly, because everyone laughed. Mike directed them up a ladder into a loft, Stan climbing up first, eyebrows going up his forehead in surprise. Journals, old books, and loose papers were strewn around in the hay, more of it there than Stan had expected to see. It looked as though it had started to be organized, but given up on halfway through and turned into a bit of a mess instead. He stepped carefully, making his way to an open patch of straw and taking a seat.

Richie climbed up behind him, and as soon as he’d found a seat he took off his Hawaiian shirt, exposing his collarbones and bony shoulders, now just in a tank-top and shorts.

“It's not that hot up here.” Stan remarked, but before he could ask what Richie was doing, Eddie’s head popped up above the landing.

“My allergies--” He began, but Richie laid his shirt out and patted it.

“Already got you covered, Eds.”

Eddie gave him a surprisingly sheepish thank you, and soon they were all seated in a misshapen oval around Mike's stuff.

“It’s… It’s kind of a lot.” Mike said, rubbing the back of his neck a little as he noticed the surprised looks on everyone’s faces. “I haven’t really even looked through all of it, so I don’t know if some of it is useless or not, but I didn’t want to accidentally miss anything important.”

“W-w-we need to find him.” Bill said, swallowing hard. His face was set. “R-Robert Gray.”

“I had the idea last night of putting together a timeline.” Mike said. “It… It would be hard, and I don’t know how long it would take, but…”

“It’s a good idea.” Beverly encouraged with a nod. “Especially if we could map out everywhere he appeared, too. It would give us an idea of where he could be, or if he moves around.”

They spoke like they knew what they were talking about, and Stan couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only helpless one here. Then Eddie caught his eye, his own eyes a little wider than usual, and Stan felt a bit better.

“I… I-I don’t know.” Bill was frowning. “Wouldn’t that t-take too long?”

“Not if we’re all doing it together.” Ben said. He sounded upbeat, a little too much so when considering the task at hand. “I mean, we’re all good at school. Everyone here can read decently quickly, right?”

“I guess.” Richie pulled a book into his lap, looking less than enthusiastic. “I just didn’t mentally prepare to spend my summer pouring over murder files from the little library on the prairie.”

“Before I met you guys, I spent most of my summers in the library.” Ben said, Richie’s eyes going wide with horror.

“Oh no. Nerd alert.”

“Oh, like you’re any cooler.” Beverly cut in. “You’re one of those losers that would stay in the arcade for hours. Let me guess… Street Fighter?”

“Street Fighter!” Richie cried out mournfully, falling back onto a pile of hay behind him. Eddie frowned and began brushing him off as soon as he was upright again. “You any good at the game?”

“Could probably kick your ass.” She answered offhandedly, and Richie's jaw dropped.

“You know Molly Ringwald, if you weren't such a bitch I could marry you.”

Beverly flipped Richie off, but she was laughing.

“So, timeline?” Ben asked, a little louder than he needed to. He was staring at Richie, who didn't notice. When no one objected, he continued. “We’ll write down all of the sightings of him and everything, and if there was some kind of crime that went with it we should write that down too. Mike, do you have a map?”

Mike miraculously supplied one, and they got started. They were silent for the most part, reading quietly, Richie even keeping the fidgeting to a minimum. They would call out anything they came across that seemed important, and someone would write it down. Beverly was marking and labeling the map, Mike was taking down dates, and Stan himself was on death duty.

“Tally marks?” Eddie asked, looking at his paper. “Really?”

“What?” Stan asked back. “I thought I was supposed to be counting.”

“I guess, but--”

“Pennywise.”

Richie’s interruption had everyone falling silent.

“What?” Beverly asked him. Everyone looked up.

“Oh, it’s just…” He picked up and showed the page he was looking at, a piece from the newspaper a few days after the Kitchener Ironworks explosion. There was a happy picture on the top of the crowd before the accident, and the clown was standing in front of a wooden cart with words and a portrait painted on it. Richie pointed as he read.

“Pennywise the Dancing Clown.”

Stan felt unsettled, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. He looked away, only to be faced with Pennywise looking at him from the pages he was holding, and he put them down.

Eventually, the timeline was complete. Stan felt a little less safe in the town he had to sleep in with his paper showing twenty-three dead bodies, and the map looked discouragingly like a scatterplot, but it was done. They sat for a moment, looking over their new evidence.

“Twenty-four.” Ben said, pointing to Stan’s paper. “Betty Ripsom.”

“Oh. Right.”

Richie was making an incessant popping noise with his lips, looking over the map. Stan hit him in the arm.

“Shut up.”

“No, you shut up. I’m thinking.”

“Rare.”

“No, actually shut--oh!”

He pointed to a place on the map. Nothing was marked there, but Stan knew what it was: the road perpendicular to Bill’s where they’d found Georgie’s rainboot.

“...what?” Mike asked after a moment.

“S-sewers.” Bill said softly.

“Sewers.” Richie repeated with a nod. “Look, he has little groups of activity, and they’re all relatively close to a gutter, see?”

“But they’re still all over town.” Beverly said. “He has to have a home base somewhere.”

Nobody had anything good to say after that. Everyone was quiet for a few seconds, then a loud electronic beep was heard.

“Oh.” Eddie quickly pushed a button to silence his watch. Stan knew what that meant; it was time for Eddie's afternoon medication. He went to unzip his fanny pack before rethinking it, tapping Mike on the shoulder instead. “Could I have some water?”

“Of course.” Mike got up quickly, looking around at everyone. “Uh… Should we take a break? Who’s hungry?”

Everyone’s hand went up, and they began descending the ladder. Something fell from Beverly’s back pocket as she got up, she and Stan the last in the loft, and he picked it up to hand it back to her.

“Bev--” He began, looking over it as he spoke. It was a postcard, a confession of love written out strangely poetically on the back. It was from a secret admirer, addressed to Beverly, who blushed pink and snatched it from his hands.

“You dropped it.” Stan said quickly, holding his hands up to his chest, because Beverly looked like she just might start swinging. “I didn’t mean to read it, I’m sorry.”

Beverly deflated a little, seemingly relieved that Stan wasn’t going to tease her.

“I don’t know who sent it.” She confessed. “It showed up in my bag a couple of days ago.” She paused, looking at Stan in what he realized was a prompting manner.

“I don’t know either.” He told her quickly. “It wasn’t me.”

Beverly looked him over. “I didn’t think it was.”

“Oh.” Stan watched as Beverly refolded the postcard with care, replacing it in her pocket. “It might be a good idea to put it somewhere else, though. Or, not carry it around.”

“Why?”

“Well, you might lose it.” Stan pointed out. “And… You’re just lucky I’m not Richie.”

Beverly was silent, and Stan could tell by the vague horror on her face that she was imagining the teasing that would have gone with the trashmouth finding the postcard instead. She placed her hand absentmindedly over her back pocket.

“Let’s just agree not to talk about this, yeah?” Beverly asked, Stan laughing a little.

“Yeah.”

“Are you guys done making out up there?” Richie asked loudly, Stan feeling his face heat up slightly as Beverly stuck her middle finger up over the edge of the loft. Then she climbed down, Stan following after her, avoiding the side eye both Ben and Bill were giving him. They all reentered Mike’s house together. Mike got Eddie his water first, then set out to put together some lunch. Stan wanted to help him but didn’t quite know what to do, feeling quite useless, knowing by looking at his friends’ faces as they also sat around that they felt the same way too.

Before long, everyone had a warm bowl of soup in front of them.

“I, uh… I made it yesterday.” Mike said, slightly sheepish. “Sorry to give you all leftovers, but I figured it would be better than making you wait.”

“It looks great.” Beverly said reassuringly, and it was. Things like soups and stews were low on Stan’s list of favorite foods, but he--along with Beverly, Richie, and Ben--asked for seconds. Ben stared into his bowl for a couple of moments, but when Mike asked nervously if something was wrong, he just shook his head, rubbing at his eyes.

“I just haven’t had food like this in awhile.” He said. “It’s nothing.”

“Mike, and his tear-wrenching soup!” Richie exclaimed, raising his spoon valiantly. Mike laughed, looking embarrassed, nudging Richie with his elbow to get him to stop.

Mike was fitting in with their group, fitting in so well that Stan barely even noticed it. It wasn’t that the group didn’t feel different, because it did, but it felt… Better, somehow. More balanced. Mike seemed realistic and level-headed, something the group had been missing for some time. They needed someone that could withstand Richie’s constant stream of bullshit without losing their minds, because as much as Stan wanted to say that person was him, he knew it wasn’t.

“Bill, you need to give your eyes a rest.” Eddie said. “If you strain them for too long you could go blind.”

Bill had a book propped up against his empty soup bowl, the thing looking rather old and boasting the cheery title “Derry’s Disasters”.

“But we n-need to f-f-find him.” Bill insisted. “We d-didn’t figure that out. We did all that, but we s-s-still didn’t…”

“But we know a lot more now.” Beverly insisted. “We know that he found somewhere to go fifteen years ago, because that’s when the break-ins stopped. He must live somewhere relatively deserted, and if you and Richie are right, and he has something to do with the sewers…”

“My neighbor’s house.” Richie said suddenly, and everyone stared at him.

“W-w-w-what?” Bill sounded incredulous. “Richie--”

“No, seriously! I’ve never seen anyone live there.” Richie sat forward in his chair, beginning to count his reasons on his fingers. “Abandoned house, it’s right across the street from the gutter…” He then ran out of steam, and nobody looked convinced.

“I’ll write it down anyway.” Mike finally said, taking the pen he’d been using from his pocket and pulling a napkin towards himself. “Any other ideas?”

“I think he might live in the woods, really.” Beverly said matter-of-factly. “If no one in town knows him, he can’t live in town, right? And the sewers open up to the woods too.”

Stan could tell by Bill’s face that he didn’t like that idea, but Mike wrote it down.

“What about that house on Neibolt street?” Eddie asked hesitantly.

“What about it?” Stan asked back. “It’s not really in a good spot.”

“But it is abandoned.” Eddie said. “And… It’s creepy.”

That seemed to be the main point in Eddie’s reasoning, Beverly nodding along to his words.

“I’ve never liked that place.” She confessed. “Whenever I walk by, I feel like it’s watching me.”

“B-b-but it’s not--” Bill began.

“If I were a murderous clown, that’s where I would hang out.” Richie agreed.

“If?” Ben asked. The joke caught everyone off guard, a grin growing on Richie’s face as he looked over at him.

“Please Benjamin, the only thing I kill are the ladies, with my dance moves.”

“Richie, everybody knows you can’t dance.” Stan deadpanned, Richie’s mouth falling open.

“Mike didn’t!” He exclaimed indignantly, gesturing in Mike’s direction, who was laughing again. Despite misgivings, ‘Neibolt house’ was also written down. They tossed a few other locations around, but none of them made the list, and the conversation eventually devolved into a few less terrifying subjects. Stan kept one eye on Bill, who wasn’t laughing or joining in, staring down at the list in the middle of the table.

“Could w-we still go down and l-look through the sewers?” He asked, finally speaking up. “We s-s-still haven’t g-gotten the chance to yet. I just w-want to look around.”

“Sure.” Beverly allotted instantly, but she was looking up at the clock on the wall with a small frown. “We could meet up there tomorrow; we need to get going if Eddie wants to make it home on time.”

She was right. They cleared their places and thanked Mike for his hospitality, Eddie leaving as quickly as he could to get back into town. Bill and Beverly both departed while Stan was in the bathroom, and when he walked back towards the open front door he heard a strangely serious-sounding Richie talking to Mike. Curious, and knowing Richie would go full goofball if Stan made his presence known, he stilled in the doorway to eavesdrop.

“Hey Michael--can I call you Michael? Is that what Mike is short for?” Richie was asking. Mike was silent for a moment.

“I mean… I guess.” He said. Stan peeked around the corner. Richie was looking at his feet, and Mike looked curious and slightly confused at being talked to.

“I feel like I can trust you. If that's weird let me know now, because I've got a question.”

“I…” Mike was still perplexed. “No, it’s fine. What’s your question?”

Richie’s face was full of hesitancy, a tiny bit of fear in his expression, and Stan suddenly felt guilty about eavesdropping. Moving now would make his presence known and he didn’t want that either, but before he could think of an alternative solution, Richie spoke.

“I… I think I’m in love with someone, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Mike was silent for a few moments. Richie couldn’t stand still while he waited for a response, rocking back and forth on his feet, stuffing his hands in his pockets before pulling them out again to run his fingers through his hair. Stan waited with baited breath, hoping that Richie would elaborate but knowing already that he wouldn’t.

“You should be sure about something that big.” Mike finally said. “And when you are, you should say something. No sense in keeping something like that to yourself, you know? People like knowing that they’re loved.”

Richie stuffed his hands back into his pockets, nodding a little.

“Thanks.” He said, swallowing and looking down at his feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Thanks a lot.”

“Sure.” Mike scratched the back of his head and then the moment was over, Richie sticking his head inside the house. Stan shrank back against the wall, but thankfully Richie didn’t look around, just yelling down the hallway.

“Stan! Get your scrawny white ass out here or I’ll leave without you!”

“How about you get your scrawny white ass out of my house?!” Came a responding yell from somewhere upstairs. Richie gave a bewildered laugh.

“God?” He asked back, as Mike clutched his chest in laughter.

“My… That’s my grandfather.” He answered when he could breathe again. Richie nodded a little, and Stan had to hide all over again as he stuck his head inside once more.

“Thanks for housing us, Mr. Hanlon!”

“Go home!”

Ears now ringing, Stan waited a minute or so, hiding until both Richie and Mike’s backs were turned before stepping outside as though he’d just walked up.

“No need to scream my head off.” He couldn’t help but say. “You’re going to give me a migraine.”

Richie winked, grinning. “I tend to have that effect on people.”

Stan just shook his head, thanking Mike again for having them over, and he and Richie made their way down the street. Usually Richie would strike up a conversation, saying something so incredulous that Stan wouldn’t be able to resist arguing with him on it, and they would laugh at each other before parting ways. But Richie was quiet, walking all the way to Stan’s house with him, completely passing the fork in the road that led to his own street. Finally, Stan couldn’t take it anymore. He wasn’t going to ask about Richie’s question--he didn’t want him to know he’d been eavesdropping--deciding to go with a question of his own.

“Hey, Richie… Are you okay?”

It took a beat for Richie to react, blinking as though he’d been pulled from a stupor. He looked Stan in the face for a few seconds before a huge smile grew on his lips, slinging an arm around him and hanging heavily on his shoulder.

“I’m fine! Why do people keep asking me that?”

It was an obvious lie, but Stan didn’t press him on it. Richie would talk to him if he wanted to. They reached Stan’s front door, then parted ways.

Beverly walked Bill home. She knew he didn't need her, and maybe it was a strange thing to do, but if he thought so he didn't say anything. It was a little selfish really, but she knew she would feel better about herself if she didn't let him be alone. Once they'd made it to Bill's driveway, he stopped.

“I h-h-hate it.” He said after a moment. “Can y-you just… Sit outside w-with me for a little bit?”

She nodded and they sat on the curb together. Bill was quiet, not complaining when Beverly took out and lit a cigarette. Then he was quiet for even longer, and Beverly decided to strike up conversation.

“Hate what?” She asked.

“B-being at home.” He pressed his lips together, looking angry. Not angry at her, or angry at his house, even; angry at the world. “After G-Georgie disappeared, being there j-j-j-just…”

“It sucks.” Beverly supplied. She knew it must be an understatement--she couldn’t imagine how Bill must feel--but he nodded anyways.

“M-my parents, they’ve started f-f-fighting all the time. We used to always eat d-d-dinner t-together, but we’ve stopped doing that too. I don’t like l-l-leaving my room, because Georgie’s stuff is still everyw-where; no one can clean it up. No one wants t-to touch it, or even talk about it. A-a-about him.”

Beverly reached out and rubbed his back, resting an easy arm around his shoulders, and he seemed to lean in to the contact without realizing it.

“But being in my room is almost w-worse, just lying in bed… I can’t sleep, I c-c-can’t eat, I… I’m sorry.” He looked over at her. The sun was setting, the orange light catching on the reddish tint of his auburn hair and making it glow. He was handsome, Beverly thought, his cheeks and nose round but his jawline sharp, a green tint to his grey eyes. Her gaze caught on his lower lip, where his injury seemed to have reopened before healing completely, now a red streak that stretched when he spoke.

“Sorry?” She asked.

“F-f-for this. Complaining.”

“I would worry more if you didn’t.” She assured him, sitting a closer and resting her head on his shoulder. Bill’s hand found her waist, holding her, and she rubbed his back a little. “I can’t believe how difficult this must be for you. I’m so sorry.”

He swallowed hard, blinking a couple of times and angling his gaze at the asphalt beneath their feet.

“He h-has this walkie-t-t-talkie.” He said after a moment. “G-G-Georgie, I mean. And he was w-wearing it, that day. A-a-and I know it’s s-stupid, b-b-but…” He stopped, closing his eyes and taking a breath before continuing. “I t-try calling out to him, s-s-s-sometimes. J-just to see if h-he’ll answer. He can’t be d-dead.”

His voice cracked on the last word, his head hanging, and Beverly rubbed his back again, wanting to comfort him. She didn’t have any words that could help this though, she knew that much. She had no assurances; no promises to make. They could only hope.

Bill’s head rested on her own as the sun went down, and it wasn’t until the darkness had fully gathered around them that Beverly realized she was supposed to already be home. A jolt of fear ran through her, and she removed her hand from around his back. He let go in turn, already looking apologetic, but she didn’t let him say anything.

“Goodnight Bill. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Try to get some sleep. For me.”

“Okay.” He finally said, and after smiling and exchanging goodbyes, Beverly made her way home. Dread churned in her gut, and she already knew what was awaiting her. She wouldn’t be lucky again. Her father would be awake, and he would be angry.

He was. She didn’t look at him as she came in, not even when he yelled her name, running past him. He grabbed her by the wrist but she managed to shake him off, making it into the bathroom and closing the door behind her. She locked it with trembling hands, taking the postcard from her pocket, looking down at it. She wanted help. She needed help, but she had nothing of the sort. All she could do was hide the postcard and hope for the best; Beverly didn’t know what Alvin Marsh would do if he found out about her secret admirer, but it was the last thing she wanted.

She stuffed it in the tampon box, a sob escaping her lips as her father pounded on the bathroom door.

“Bevvy! You unlock this door!” He bellowed.

“In… In a minute!” She called back, trying to keep her voice level. It had been a while since she’d heard him this enraged. The bathroom was supposed to be her safe space, but safe was the last thing she felt.

She heard the lock click in the doorknob, and then the door was opened, her father standing in the doorway.

“Bevvy?” He stepped forward, the concern on his face making her skin crawl. He reached out, taking her face in one hand. “Why are you crying? What happened to you? You’re home so late.”

Beverly considered running for the window, but she knew she couldn’t make it.

“I lost track of time, that’s all.”

“Where were you? Who were you with?” His hands moved to her shoulders, trailing down the sides of her body. She was fully crying now, forcing a lie past the lump in her throat.

“Just walking around town with some friends. We went and got ice cream.”

His grip on her hips tightened until it hurt.

“Why would you lie to me?” He asked, his words barely a whisper, leaning in until his lips touched her ear, his liquor-streaked breath ghosting over her face. “You don’t smell like ice cream. You smell like dirty, rotten cigarettes.”

“Daddy--”

“You worry me, Bevvy.” One of his hands was on the waistband of her pants, his fingers trying to get under her clothes. She tried to squirm away, but he held her fast with his other hand. “You worry me a lot.”

It was over in a matter of minutes. It could have been faster, but something new had risen in her and urged her to fight. She'd writhed, clawed and cried, but all it got her was a quick slap in the face and bruises the shape of handprints on her thighs.

“Why did you do that to your hair?”

She was lying on the bathroom floor, tears leaking thinly from behind her closed eyelids. She didn’t respond to the question, but her father wasn't looking for an answer.

“It makes you look like a boy.”

Then he closed the door behind himself and was gone. Beverly curled into a ball, letting herself lay there, letting herself cry. Just like all the other times, she considered calling the police. She considered running away. But just like all the other times, she knew she wouldn't. Instead, her eyes caught on the tampon box under the sink. The top wasn't fully closed, a couple inches of the postcard sticking out, and Beverly thought that maybe her luck hadn't run out just yet.

She pulled out the postcard to look at it again, somehow feeling better and worse all at once. But it gave her the energy to get up off the floor, and when she felt like she could she hurried to her bedroom. She took the postcard with her and stuffed it quickly under her pillow and got into bed, feeling tears stinging her eyes again as her fingers curled around one of the corners.

“My heart burns there too.” She whispered to herself, lying still and trying not to feel the aches in her body, willing sleep to take her.

#it 2017 #reddie #reddie fic #benverly #benverly fic #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #stanley uris #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #myfic #tdogd

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imaginedilestrade · 7 years ago

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An English Blizzard- Part 4

Warnings: swearing (just a little bit) kinda mature themes? It's like one sentence tbh... A/N: Part four! Ohhh it's getting interesting now 😏 The next part will be posted in a few hours! —————————— Chapter 4 —————— "Hello Y/N, nice to see you again..." Mycroft trailed off as he shook your hand, he had a drink in his other. You glued your eyes to Sherlock's older brother in attempts to not look over to Greg. "H-hello Sally," you smiled as you were passed along to her. "Hello Y/N, good to see you! You're looking well." Her smile was usually infectious but this time you physically had to force yourself to make your own mouth smile when in reality all you wanted to do was run. She passed you on to Greg, your dad standing behind you to formally introduce yourself to him. "Greg, this is my daughter Y/N. I don't think you've met before. Greg teaches law in the northwest building you're in-" "-the southeast building" you cut your dad off with a whisper. "Ahh that's right, southeast..." Jim mused "Anyway Y/N, Greg. Greg, Y/N." You took Greg's hand to shake it, both your hands were trembling and your faces paled, you knew he was feeling the same. Full of dread and fear as you shook his hand but his eyes were twinkling with slight confusion, it was only then that he realised he never found out your last name. "Nice to meet you Greg," you choked out. Greg's eyes fell to your slippers and he raised an amused brow "You too Y/N." his eyes returned to yours as you pulled away your hand. "Does Sebastian need any help dad?" You asked with your eyes still locked with Greg's. "I don't think-" You cut him off again "I'll go and see anyway." You rushed off to the kitchen and found your step-dad over the sink, draining vegetables. You spotted a glass of wine and grabbed it, gulping it down in one. "Is that to prepare you for my cooking?" Sebastian joked. You nervously laughed and placed down the glass "Course not!" You thought of an excuse "It was cold outside, just warming myself up!" Sebastian smirked "Here," he poured you a brandy "That will warm you up." He slid it over and, again, you downed it in one, hissing slightly as you put down the glass and felt the alcohol burn your throat. It certainly helped to ease your nerves a bit and being in Sebastian's company eased them even more. "Can I help you?" You asked just as he finished plating up. "You can help me take the plates through." You did as he asked and followed him though to the dining room you scanned your eyes over the table and noticed the spot beside Greg was empty. Your mind was currently thinking of every curse word under the sun as you helped serve before slowly sitting down next to him. "Nice slippers," he whispered to you. "Please just kill me now," you uttered under your breath to him and he smirked slightly. You ate your food at a snails pace, your nerves were slowing you down. "So Y/N, what do you study?" Greg asked and your brow creased slightly. He already knew? Realisation sunk in and you understood what he was trying to do. "I study English literature..." you softly replied and despite the way you felt inside you still smiled at him. It was impossible not to smile every time you looked at him. "She'd be much better at maths!" Jim bellowed and you shut your eyes. "Writing is so boring sweetheart!" Jim looked at Greg "She wants to be an author, write books for people that will only buy the book to jazz up their bookshelf or if she writes a children's book, it will be ripped to shreds by the little terror." You gnawed on the inside of your cheek "Don't worry he's just annoyed I didn't take a class that he taught," you told Greg with a half smile before turning to face your dad with a fake smile "Besides, maths is as dull as my fathers personality." "Ohhh!" Sebastian laughed while the others choked on their food slightly from giggling "Good one Y/N!" Sebastian leaned across and hi-fived you. "It's all banter dear! It's all banter!" Jim waved his hands "You know I'm incredibly proud of you...despite you not choosing maths." You rolled your eyes and continued to eat but you suddenly felt a weight on your thigh. Greg's hand. He began to movie his thumb in little stroking motions. You discreetly tried to move his hand off but it was tremendously strong. Your mind wandered to what else he could do with those ha- No! I wasn't the time to be thinking like that and you tried to move his hand but he slowly moved it to the inside of your thigh. You mentally praised yourself that you wore tights because if it was bare skin he was pressing his hand against you would have melted to the floor by now. "So Y/N..." Sally-who was sitting across the table from you beside Mycroft- spoke up "Seeing anyone?" "No," you blatantly lied. The man you were seeing was sitting beside you feeling you up in the middle of a dinner party. You lightly placed your hand on top of his...not to stop him however. Two can play at that game. "Well whoever Y/N ends up with they'll be very lucky!" Sebastian said before taking a sip of his drink. "Why's that?" Greg asked a little too quickly. "Because people say; 'if a writer falls in love with you, you can never die'." Sebastian smiled and Greg felt a new warmth in his chest as you moved your eyes up to look at him. You finished your dinner and moved your hand to his knee before moving it up and brushing your fingertips against his inner thigh. You could hear him nervously clear his throat. "How are you enjoying your course Y/N?" Mycroft asked. "Well I've always loved English-" your breath hitched then you felt Greg's hand swiftly move and brush against a extremely sensitive area , causing you to stuff up your words "Clit-LITERATURE!" You screamed out to drown out what you had said beforehand. "English literature..." you repeated more confidently with a tight lipped smile "The course I took was probably the best to develop me as a writer and I'm really loving every minute of it." It seemed only Greg noticed your word mishap and he pulled away his hand, writing 'whoops' on top of yours that was still on his leg with his finger. Despite you drowning in embarrassment and nerves you smiled. --- The night soon dwindled down and Mycroft left as soon as the meal was finished but Sally stuck around a bit longer until the weather started to get bad. You, Sebastian, Jim and Greg were in the living room. You were sitting perched beside Sebastian chatting away about his work and your university dissertations that had to be done. Your eyes would sometimes look over to Greg who was talking with your dad about the university. "I think I'll stay tonight..." you told Sebastian, glancing out of the window seeing the blizzard that was hitting London. "Yeah it's too bad to venture out in that, even if you're only just down the road. I picked up a movie the other day we can watch that later on if you want?" Sebastian smiled. You let out a small groan "I'd love to but I have to read-" "You always have to read. Take a break!" He lightly nudged you. "Fine why don't we compromise? I get to read for half an hour and then you can stick on the film?" "Deal!" He shook your hand and you proudly smiled "Go up and change into your jim-jams." You let it a snort of laughter and stood up "I'm sure whoever created the word 'pyjamas' will be rolling in their grave at what you just said." The two men sitting opposite you and Sebastian looked up "Where you going?" Jim asked. "Just going upstairs to change into my pyjamas. I'm going to stay the night, the weather is too bad." "Yeah..." Greg interjected "I should be going soon." You ran upstairs and into your room, letting out a small sigh of relief. You grabbed your pyjamas and changed while attempting to the top Greg at the same time. 'This is not funny. We're dead.' you texted him and heard a vibration from behind, making you freeze on the spot. The door shut and you turned on the spot "What are you doing?!" You quietly snapped and covered your legs with your dressing gown, mentally cursing yourself for not changing quicker and as a result you were only wearing a nightshirt. "I was 'going to the bathroom'" he sinfully smirked and mimicked inverted commas with his fingers as he walked over to you. You stopped him by pressing a hand against his chest. You looked to the floor with a sigh "Are you not even a tad worried about being caught?" "To be honest I'm more surprised than anything. It only just hit me earlier that I never asked for your last name, you must think I'm an arsehole." You lightly laughed with him "I know Jim's your dad, and he's a great friend of mine but, I really, really like you Y/N." You tilted your head up and looked at him "I really, really like you too...I'm just-" you groaned and reminded your hand from his chest to rub your face "I'm worried about sneaking about, I feel like we're more likely to get caught." Greg moved forward and wrapped his arms around you, brining you in for a soothing hug "We'll make it work, I know we'll be alright." You pulled back a bit and nodded before gasping and going bright red feeling the material of your dressing gown by your feet. "You should get back downstairs before they get suspicious." Greg agreed and softly kissed you. You kissed him again but this time with much more force and passion. He stumbled forward and you crashed on your bed "Now...this…really…is…a bad...idea..." you said between breathing and kissing. "Then...we...should...stop..." Greg mumbled against your skin and moved to kiss your neck. You let it a shaky moan and he smiled against the groove between your collarbone and neck. "That will be right!" You giggled and kissed him again. "Greg your taxi is here!" You could hear your dad shout from downstairs and both you and Greg moved faster than the speed of light off of each other. "I better go," Greg whispered and wiped away the excess saliva from around his mouth. He pecked your lips "I'll see you and sorry about touching your-" You cut him off with a shy smile "I wouldn't have minded it if it wasn't in front of my parents and their friends..." Greg smirked and bit down on his lip "I'll keep that in mind...got to go!" He waved as he walked out out of your bedroom door. "Bye Greg," you sillily smiled and looked down to your bare legs before finally finishing getting changed. When you joined Sebastian and your dad downstairs Greg had already gone and you felt a bit lost without his presence. You shimmed yourself in between the two and Sebastian started the movie. "So have a good night then Y/N?" Your dad asked out of the blue. "I did..." you smiled to yourself and felt your phone vibrate. You shifted a little and scanned your eyes over it before tuning off your phone and returning your attention to the movie with a smile. 'I'll pick you up tomorrow around 12 a street away from your apartment. Can't wait to see you again x' ——————— Tags: (Let me know if you'd like to be tagged/Untagged) @adorablebadger @damnitman-jamlocked-inthetardis @daynaan @rikkachloechan @holmes-maev @cutie1365 @wcsteland @theyre-my-divsion @gotham-s-lover @littlepostitnotes @chrissydarlingwrites @laterthantherabbit @annkli @-waythe- (link not working)

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clevernewdimension · 8 years ago

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Exaulted Part One

Parts: Prologue, One, Two

Genre: Drama, Romance, Violence, drug use, plus more!

Pairing: None yet! (There will be bits with most of them tbh)

Word Count: 4K

AN: Part one! So excited to start this new story! The guys make more of an appearance later on, though you do see a few in this one! Also, just to explain, this story is going to have a bit of a love triangle/square. (One will be Yixing because he’s my bias so obviously...) Though, they’re all pretty much fuck boys in this so they’ll all get a moment lol.

I groan, the feeling of hunger gnawing its way at me as I look around the city, trying to find a job. My last one ended suddenly because the shop closed. I’m a few days behind on my rent and I can’t afford to buy groceries. Thankfully I get one free meal at my University, but I may have to take a semester off if I can’t find a way to pay the student fees. I managed to get a scholarship through hard work, determination and a bit of luck, but even still the $2,000 dollar fee is extremely steep for me.

Many places I check are looking for a full time person, not someone taking classes, I understand, but it doesn’t make the hunt for a job less depressing. I felt the need to cry as I left the small cafe outside of school, so frustrated with my situation. With a sigh, I walk over towards campus, trying to get to my class as quickly as possible. I have one friend, and she’s named Lina. She’s an heiress to a fancy museum, so she fits in perfectly here. I don’t tell her what’s going on because if I did she’d insist on giving me money, which I don’t want her to feel like she needs to.

All the other people are… well, most are unkind, but some are just civil. They don’t want my poor things touching their fancy, expensive ones. They act like being poor is a disease that can be caught. I often blow their comments off with sarcastic ones back, just so I don't seem like a pushover. I quickly open the door to my basic University level Exdria history class, which all students must take. A few people whom are set to graduate after this year are taking it since they put it off since the beginning. Unfortunately, this is the one class where all the Princes and Dukes in training and their families are in .I get to class early, getting my notebook and pens out, ready to take notes when the class starts as they’re all gathered around one another, probably planning the latest party and whatnot.

Don’t get me wrong, while I do find them annoying and super privileged, they’re all fine as hell. They’re extremely handsome, but unfortunately, they know it. They constantly use it for their advantage, along with their status. To anyone who isn’t a student, they’re all perfect angels, but the student body knows that, while some of them are nicer than others, that is an act. They’re playboys, getting drunk and high all the time, having sex all over with any girl who catches their eye. Thankfully, I’ve managed to keep out of their sight, but Lina, however, has probably slept with all of them. Which is whatever, so long as she's safe about it. Something tells me they wouldn't put up with baby drama in any form.

She takes her seat next to me, giving me a wink. “So, how’s the job search going,” she asks, smiling. I told her I wanted a job for some extra spending money.

I frown and groan, “Awful. No one wants to hire part time or is willing to work with my class schedules.”

“I mean, my suggestion is always out there,” She says, grinning at her seat.

I roll my eyes, turning my head away from her with a blush. The room had many seats, the walls were covered in fancy cream colored wallpaper and the chairs were all super comfortable. There was a fancy screen that connected with the lecturer’s computer, so that they can use it and make 2D pictures into 3D things. Most professors use it just to show power points, though. “I’m not going to become a prostitute!”

“That suggestion was a joke, honestly,” She mutters. Her hair was dyed pastel pink, her eyes were hazel. She was tall and beautiful, wearing only the best that money could buy. I, however, had blonde hair. My eyes were green, like many people from the Eastern sector of Exdria, we looked vastly different. When people came from other countries, they often live here or in the West. I had small, light dusting of freckles that was one of the few things Lina was jealous of. She often wondered if getting some fake ones tattooed on her face would look good, to which I told her she'd look like she was diseased. “The real job I offered was to do my laundry.”

“No thanks,” I say, “But I do need to get a job desperately.”

“Well," she says, looking at me, “My aunt works at this big house and is trying to find someone to run errands for her. Apparently the people there pay their staff $3,500 for just running basic errands and doing minor things for them.”

My eyes practically pop out of my skull, “A month?” I do the math, and that would cover my rent and student fees for the first month, and then I could start having food and make a decent living.

She smirks, “That’s what people just starting make in a week. If it’s a week with a holiday they make double.”

“Lin,” I say, taking her hands in mine, “Please tell me you can set me up with your aunt!”

“Y/N, I didn’t think you were into women!”

My face turns bright red, “Lin!”

“Fine fine,” She says, taking out her phone, texting quickly. “You’re just the type she’d want anyways. Hardworking and all that. Perhaps once you get paid you’d be able to actually afford more than that tragic flip phone you have.”

I pull her into a hug, “Thank you thank you thank you!”

Before she could reply, the professor walking in, making everyone in the class settle down. The grin I had didn’t settle down at all.

The grin I had on my face didn’t die down throughout the day as Lina gave me a ride to where her Aunt works. The house was grand, four stories and the grounds it was on was huge. It looked like a modern house and a castle at the same time. We got out her black fancy car, walking into the side entrance where we were instructed to go. Her aunt had fine brown hair with the same hazel eyes. She was the same height at me, around 5’ 3”. She grinned. “Hello, Y/N. When Lina texted me about you, I thought you could the answer to my prayers. Please, come in!”

We quickly went inside, going left into a tiny office. “I manage the staff here, and it’s routine that we run background tests on all the people who apply here. Safety and all.” She smile at me as she offered me a seat as Lina left, saying she was going to go hang out with friends that stayed there. I sat down, nervously. “You seem nervous. Lina said that you were looking for a job for spending money…?”

“Um,” I say with a nervous gulp, “Well-”

“You’re not here for just spending money,” She says, her face stern. “You’re behind on your rent. You live alone. Parents are both not in the picture. Why did you lie to Lina?”

“I don’t want her to just fix my problems for me,” I say, softly. “I’m not friends with her for her money, so I don’t want to tell her because I know she’d just fix it even if I told her no. I don’t want anything just handed to me and I don't want her to feel like I'm using her..”

She nods with a smile, “Well, your background check is flawless. Never so much as even gotten a bad grade. You’ll be running errands, like picking up clothes or hiring caterers if the chefs are off, things like that. Can you drive?”

“Yes Ma’am,” I say with a nod, “I was trying to save up for a car, but… well, life happened.”

“Good, means you can pick up things we’ll need. We have vans you can use, even when you’re not working in case we need to to pick something up for us and bring it here. You’re going to have to provide the gas when you’re not using it for the job, however.” She explains, her eyes looking at the papers before her. “After she messaged me, I spoke with people who taught you to get a look into what kind of person you are. They all said you were kind, compassionate, and hardworking. They all mentioned that you’re honest and try to help when you can. It seems as if you’ll be a perfect fit.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” I say with a grin.

“Because you’ll be mostly running errands, you’ll not have to wear a uniform unless you’re called in to help us work parties and social gatherings. The first week will be trial. We’ll pay you the same as most others get, and after a week, if we decide to fully hire you, you’re pay will go up if I feel like you’re proving yourself and showing that you deserve it.” From this conversation, I gathered she was hardworking as well. She smiled at me, pushing a pile of papers forward. “This is the contract. If you sign it and we hire you, there will be nothing you’ll need to sign after, it is all included here. If we don’t we will shred the document and you won't have to worry. We’ll have to have you take a picture for an ID card that will let you open the back entrances and the staff doors.”

I look over the pages, nodding. I don’t pay full attention, “Is there any dress requirements or anything besides the uniform for these social gatherings? I’d just figure I’d ask, just to be sure.”

“No facial piercings present when working. While visible tattoos are not restricted, we will ask them to be covered with make up. We don’t care what color anyone’s hair is, after all, we are in the Eastern sector, just make sure to have it up and in a tight bun if you do work at one.” She smiles as I sign the papers where it says to.

A few minutes later, my picture was taken and I was handed a card with my picture and name. “Here you go, Song Y/N! Pleasure to have you with us, and you can call me Hana,” Lina’s aunt says with a smile, before reaching into a book and tearing out a small section of a paper. “This is for you.”

I take it, my eyes wide at the amount of money on it, “But I haven’t even done anything yet!”

She smiles, “It’s for discretion. We’re trusting you with this card not to give it to others to make copies. After all, this is the Royal family we are serving.”

I pause for a moment, my heart beating fast, “This… this is the palace?”

She smiles, nodding. “Yes. Because you’ll be working for the Royal family, we would appreciate discretion. Now, I’ll show you the cars and you may take one with you.”

When I drove away, using my newly made card to exit the grounds, I couldn’t help but smile. The check was enough for my rent, my student fees AND food for the next week! Not even cheap food, but good food! I smile at myself, stopping at a red light in the black van I grin as I turn to park, treating myself to a nice hamburger, trying not to let tears of happiness fall.

I opened the door to my small apartment, smiling to myself as I bring my hamburger into my small bed. My place was small. A tiny kitchen, a small bathroom, small living room and bedroom. There wasn’t much in my place. The kitchen had all the appliances that came with it, and my room had my bed a dresser, and that was it. My living room had literally nothing in it. I couldn’t afford furniture or a television. The only thing I really had that was worth some money was a laptop, which was practically required to do school work.

I ate my food, just grinning like an idiot. I hope with all my might that this works out, because not only could it pay my bills and get groceries, but I could actually furnish my apartment and have it look like someone actually lives here. It was all alone and the walls were bare, it was honestly fairly depressing, but you do what you have to in order to survive.

I finish my food, reading a book as my form of entertainment. I was so thankful that borrowing books from the library was still free, or else I’d go insane. Sometimes when I’m not reading or painting I’m working out from the shear boredom. I like to stay healthy and it’s fun and all, but I’ve never really had a problem with my weight. Granted I’m not stick skinny like fashion models, I liked myself and that was good enough for me. Setting my book down, I get ready for bed, falling asleep quickly for the first time without stress and without my lumpy mattress bothering me.

The next day, I got ready and raced to the offices to paid my rent after putting the check in my bank account. After that, I immediately went and paid my student fees. Exiting the building, I smiled, feeling a huge burden off my shoulders.

Lina was talking with a few of the royals and their friends. The youngest prince, the Eldest from the South, and the one from the West. She saw me, smiling at them before breaking away, quickly walking to me, wrapping her arms around me and hugging me tightly. “You did it! She couldn’t say it to you, but Aunt Hana was so relieved and happy to find you! She said if it wasn’t for protocol, she would have hired you on the spot!” She lightly punches my arm, “Probably because you’re such an innocent good girl!”

I nod, “Yeah, probably. Now I don’t feel stressed, I could probably work more on my painting today.”

We turn, walking down the halls. “You haven’t painted anything in awhile,” She says, winking to a guy who passed by us. He looks her up in down as we pass, making me roll my eyes. “I love your paintings. Seriously, you’re great, you just need more confidence! In your art and your looks, by the way…”

I groan, “Not this again!”

“Yes this again,” She says, looking at me. “You’re always in sweatpants. Sometimes you wear shorts and let me tell you, people notice those days because your legs are killer. If you put as much effort into your style as you do everything else, then you’d have to beat people off of you they’d want you so bad.”

“Precisely why I don’t,” I point out, “I don’t have enough time. I’m too busy working. Bills aren’t going to pay themselves, and I’m not rich like everyone else here. I can afford all the latest and greatest.”

“Bills,” She mutters, before her eyes go wide, “You needed that job! Not for extra spending money! But because of your bills, didn’t you! I told you to just tell me and I’d help you!” She stops, taking one of my hands, “And not because I pity you or whatever, but because you’re genuinely one of the few people who like me for me!”

“It’s because I don’t want everything handed to me,” I say with a small pout. “I want to earn it myself.”

She sighs, nodding, “I know, but I don’t want my best friend to be homeless.”

“Hopefully I won’t,” I say with a smile, waving to her as I go into the art studio. I get my watercolors and paper, deciding on painting a beautiful galaxy. Purples, blues, pinks all surrounded by stars. Just something to get me back into painting again. I love all kind of painting, but I love watercolor the most. I’m often covered in paint that I don’t know how it got there. That’s part of the reason why I don’t dress up. I get paint on everything. After a while, I finished my small painting, I get a text. Mrs. Hana would like me to go and pick up some of their dry cleaning as well as some of the polish they use on the marble floors since they’re running out. There was a debit card to use to pay for such things.

It was easy enough. This van had a place to hang clothes, so I got all the clothes and kept them in place, desperately trying not to wrinkle them.It wasn’t a long drive to the place to get the polish either, getting that and strapping them in so they don’t move around as I drive. I could feel my heart beating fast as I pulled up to the gate, swiping my card. The gate opens and I pull up close to an entrance. I hop out, my feet crushing against the gravel below as I take one of the boxes of polish, setting off to the door, I swipe the card, trying not to drop the box as I enter.

“Y/N,” Mrs. Hana says, looking up from her office, “Oh, help!” She says, a few of the people around helping us get the things from my van. I pass of the box of polish, going back out and helping the three people who came to help. Mrs. Hana smiles at me as I was holding some of the dry cleaning.

“Mrs. Hana,” A voice says, calling around.

Mrs. Hana turns, just in time for three people to walk into the corridor. She bows, “Your highnesses! I wasn’t expecting you all here!”

Everyone around me bows, so I panic and bow as much as I could as I held hangers of clothes. They looked amazing, as usual as they walked forward. The shortest one smiled, bowing a little at her, “Sorry! Sehunnie was just looking for a specific thing to wear tonight, but it seems he forgot it was getting dry cleaned.”

The tallest, who was also the youngest, pouts, glaring at the eldest. “Why do you have to call me that,” He whines, rolling his eyes while the middle child laughed, putting an arm around the youngest with a grin.

“I think it’s cute,” The middle aged prince says, poking his cheek. The grin he had I honestly though could cure everything it was so cute.

“We will find it for you! What is it,” Mrs Hana asks as Sehun squints his eyes at me, shrugging off the affection from his brother. He steps forward, taking one of the hangers from my arms. It was a dark blue sweater that probably cost more than my entire existence.

“It’s this one,” He says, looking at me in the eye. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. You’re friends with Lina, right? Y/N?” He glances at me, looking completely unamused. “She speaks highly of you.”

“Oh… well. Thank you?” I say, giving an awkward half grin. My arms felt like jelly as I looked at the men before me. The fact that they are royalty and will be leading this country is very intimidating.

“She says you’re smart and hardworking,” Prince Junmyeon adds, looking at me as Sehun inspects the sweater.

“That you’re a gifted painter, too,” the middle prince, Yixing, states.

“She’s very kind to me,” I reply, bowing to him.

Sehun glances at me, “But why are you working here? Lina mostly associates with people who are… of a higher class. Not… well…”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask her why, your highness, for I’m not a mind reader.” I say before I could stop myself.

There were a few seconds of internal panicking on my part that I somehow manage not to show on my face. Mrs. Hana's face was shocked, looking at me in horror. At this time, I couldn't help but notice him. Prince Sehun was tall and thin. He looked like the very definition of the word ‘beauty’. I know a little of him from things Lina’s said. He’s sarcastic and mischievous, but apparently pretty kind under all the walls he built up. He’s also one who parties with Lina and her other friends. Often a party every weekend and causing trouble, though none of them ever get caught. He glances at me with his brown eyes, his hair a pale blonde like mine. While mine was a chaotic mess, his was perfectly crafted to be a mess but still look fine. He shrugs before he grins, looking towards Mrs. Hana. “Sarcastic...I like her. She’s funny. She stays.”

Mrs. Hana gasped, looking from him to me before she nods, “Well, alright… she was going through her trial week-”

“Then I suppose her trial is over,” Yixing interrupts, looking at me. He was pretty tall too, though he also was in their party club. His hair was blank and his eyes dark. The smile he was giving Mrs. Hana showed off an adorable dimple. His hair was a bit shaved down on the sides as he fixes some of the hair hanging in his face. “Any friend of Lina’s as a friend of ours, I’m sure we can trust her.”

“Thank you,” I say, smiling with a small bow.

The eldest smiled from his place. He apparently was more of the ‘good ones’ but he still will be a vagrant from time to time. His hair was the same color as his eyes, a lovely comforting brown. Junmyeon was also the shortest of the three, but he knew how to hold himself in a more regal way than the his brothers, which I suppose is from being the eldest. They all were dressed casually. Jeans, t-shirts and jackets, save for Sehun who wanted the sweater.

“Especially,” Sehun says, the corners of his mouth curving up in a smirk once again, “Since we’ve heard a lot about her. Lina keeps saying she tries to get you to cut loose. ‘Too hardworking and stubborn’, she says.”

“I don’t know about stubborn,” I say, shrugging as a maid with a wheel-able clothing rack comes by. We quickly get all the hangers on it as they all stand silently, watching me. “Mrs. Hana, is there anything else you’d wish for me to do? Anything else I need to pick up?”

“Tomorrow his highness King Song is going to be having a dinner with a few dignitaries from other countries, as well as his advisers,” She says, opening a small notebook and glancing through her notes. “They’re going to be having an assortment of seafood. Does the van you use have a refrigerator?”

I nod, “Yes Ma’am. Most of them do, I found out from the on site mechanic.”

“Would you mind picking the food up in the morning and bringing it here before your classes start? I’m sorry, I know it would be early…” She looked sorry for having to ask me to wake early.

“I’m an early riser,” I say with a smile as she nods, handing me a piece of paper with an address.

“Thank you,” She says, a smile on her face. “It’ll give me some time to sleep in for about ten minutes for once!” She pats my shoulder before glancing at the three men in front of her. “You three. Are you all off to find trouble again?”

“Trouble finds us,” Yixing counters with a smile, looking like an angel, though I know better than that.

I bow once more, “It was a great pleasure meeting you all.”

“So polite,” Junmyeon says with another smile as I turn to walk away.

As I was shutting the door behind me, I hear Sehun say, “More like so innocent.”

#exo scenarios #exo fanfiction #exo imagine #exo fanfic #yixing scenarios #other members soon to come!

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asukaskerian · 8 years ago

Note

Huh, penny's dropped.He thinks about it for a second, his face going through a series of more and more unreadable contortions. "... Could do worse. Do you know, Terezi, I used to think you were going ashen for Gamzee and Kanaya, with the -- heh -- the getting in the middle." Karkat tries on a smile. You wince. "Hah. Haha. Maybe you're right and I'm actually hideously terrible at figuring out any kind of romance. Maybe it actually is a perverted four-way pale clusterfuck. Maybe-- (cont)

(cont) You can't take it anymore. It's just hitting every single cringe button you have. That secondhand embarrassment is dealt by a pimpslapping pro, ow your poor whore mouth."Hey wanna hook up."A beat."Tonguingly."Terezi bursts out laughing, though she immediately presses a hand on her mouth like she feels bad about it. Karkat's face turns ruddy in spectacular blotches. "Strider what the fuck--" (cont)

(cont) "Or like with other parts if you really insist I gotta rub Dave's face in my mastery of alien bits you know like a horn job or something if you're into that--""I am going to kill you.""Sure, but only a little one, 'kay?"Terezi is biting down on her fist, body shaking with the laughter she heroically swallows back. It's so much better than the hurting, sorry look from earlier you can't even quantify it. You dodge behind her as Karkat lunges for you, claws out. (cont)

(cont) "No but seriously I like your horns they'd both fit in one hand if they were any closer it's horrible how tiny and cute they are you could almost lose them in your hair, wow, hey, no throwing chairs, bad Karkat, naughty--""Son, what's going on?"... Bluh. Mr. Egbert had to intervene just when you were about to leave the safety of the Pyrope Demilitarized Zone and lead him on a chase around the air conditioning units. You'd be out of sight and everything behind those. (end) [proud smile]

(oh my god i got all of them. tumblr are you okay??)

Crash Standing, back when they were still at the striders’ place having a roof party and Byrd decides to take up distracting Karkat from horrible romantic sadfeels with... vaguely romantic, really bad flirting.

what karkat is thinking: i will be Brave and face and admit all my Failings in romance and in reading romance in Other People to the girl i used to love/hate who chose my moirail instead Ha Ha I Deserve It.

what terezi is thinking “oh god please karkat i love you and always will but can i gnaw off my limb and escape plz this is making me feel really guilty i went with the clown trash creep instead of your earnest adorableness. almost makes me forget i get so annoyed by your wishy washy noncommittal “i totally dislike you in a potentially romantic way but like hell i’m gonna admit it” and your constant self-hate“. (girl did not have another century to wait for karkat to get through his shit. >_>;;;;; but yeah, she’s kinda regretful too.)

What byrd is thinking: HAAAAAAA hahaha aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa quick let’s bomb this from orbit.

tbh right now he’s not jealous of terezi at all, he’s kinda sad that their timing was so off and they ended up in this awkward no man’s land of “we were never actually anything but you still feel like my ex” and he’s not even crushing on karkat yet, but he has sympathy for him AND physical attraction. so hey full speed ahead. if he stops to think he’ll have to think about troll quadrants in a serious and sympathetic way, and like, pat people’s shoulders while making soothing noises. nooooo ;__;

byrd is very sad he didn’t manage to sneak in some makeouts behind the air conditioning units tho, for serious. mr egbert is a master cockblock. :(

#dvd commentary meme #the family you choose verse #archiatricalliterist

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leekycauldron-blog1 · 8 years ago

Text

Betrayal // Draco x Reader (Part Five)

Feel free to send requests HERE

(a/n: ayyy blaise is in this chapter and i made him gay cuz i feel like this fic is way too hetero tbh!!! also its fairly long but there’s smut as well so ya’ll better appreciate (i get really bored when writing smut lmao) sorry it took forever but it was longggg and i had exams)

Warnings: swearing, sex sex sEX

Word Count: 4.6k

Part Four

“I mean I knew he’d never actually wanna fuck, he is a Hufflepuff after all, but Merlin – you’ve got no idea what that can do to a guy’s self-esteem.” Blaise drones on in your ear, he hasn’t shut up about this fucking Hufflepuff guy since you got back to the common room almost an hour ago. An hour listening to him complain about how ‘difficult it is to be an attractive gay male in a school made up primarily of straight average-looking guys’. Except, he’s fucked more guys than you could care to name so either Blaise is over exaggerating the amount of straight guys or he’s just extremely good at seduction. Probably a mixture of both. All you can do is hum slightly as though you’re actually sympathising with his pathetic display of self-pity. You couldn’t care less. Not when there were more important things going on – like why the hell you hadn’t seen Draco out of lessons since the conversation with Harry and it’s not like you’re always looking for him but curiosity really took over after what Harry told you.

“’Hm’? Really Y/N? Have you even been listening to a word I’ve been saying? I was turned down by a Hufflepuff, a fucking Hufflepuff. The shame. You’d think it’d be the other way ‘round but-“ Blaise groans in frustration at your obvious lack of interest to his apparently dire problem. Maybe he’s worried that the guy would tell everyone and embarrass him, you know for a fact that won’t happen; Hufflepuffs don’t have it in them to humiliate someone else. But you decide not to tell Blaise that; the Slytherin in you wanting to make him suffer a little more for boring you with this.

“Why don’t you just fuck Theo? He’s always up for a shag.” You fake a light tone, a small smile to make it seem like you’re completely disinterested. And usually you’re not, usually you like hearing about this stuff but today you’re distracted. Blaise just feigns an over-dramatic yawn in response, rolling his eyes. He’s too damn picky. “Well don’t come crying to me when you’re pissed off over your sexual frustrations.” You huff teasingly and he just folds his arms across his chest, making a point of looking as though he’s in a sulk.

That is until you both hear the door to the common room slam shut, the sound echoing around the dungeon causing the room to fall silent briefly. An extremely angry Draco Malfoy had just entered the room. You can tell he’s pissed because his jaw is clenched so tight you can see it from the sofa in the middle of the room, his eyes are downcast but as he walks closer to go to his dorm you can see from his eyes that he’s furious. The room is already full of talking again, Draco’s rather dramatic entrance forgotten about in a matter of seconds by the majority of the people in the room but not by you. And apparently not by Blaise.

“Hey, Y/N.” Blaise taps you on the arm as your gaze followed Draco up the stairs and as you turned to Blaise, you see a mischievous glint in his eye. “Since you and Draco aren’t together, you wouldn’t mind if he was my next shag, would you? He looks super hot when he’s angry like that, don’t you think? Shame he’s strai-” Before another word could leave the boy’s mouth, you lift a cushion up off the sofa beside you and throw it directly at his head. His laughter at your reaction is audible even muffled by the cushion. Honestly, you’d have laughed along to his silly little joke if it wasn’t for that gnawing feeling in the back of your mind that everything really isn’t okay.

“One more word and I’ll hex you, Zabini.” You warn, a challenging yet playful look in your eyes and Blaise lifts both his hands in the air in mock-surrender. You love Blaise, really you think he’s one of the only trustworthy friends you have left in this school. “I think I’m gonna talk to Draco.” You tell him, ignoring the way his eyebrows raise in disbelief because not even he bothers Draco when he’s in one of his bad moods. “Good luck on your quest in fooling some poor innocent guy to sleep with you.”

“Good luck dealing with Mr PMS up there.” Blaise retorts, nodding up to the dorm and you roll your eyes. You can handle Draco fucking Malfoy when he’s having what you like to refer to as one of his ‘moments’, you’ve had years of practice. Draco’s never been the most chilled out person after all.

You stand outside the door to Draco’s dorm for a couple of seconds once you reach it, your heart thudding in your chest so hard you think it might break through your ribcage. Yes, from past experience you know you can handle Draco Malfoy when he’s having a ‘moment’ but now you’re here, you’re not entirely sure you can handle Draco Malfoy at any point after these past few weeks with no conversation at all. Your conversation with Harry flashes into your memory as soon as you start to doubt yourself; his warnings about the conversation he overheard between Draco and Snape combined with a memory of the look on Draco’s face when he entered the common room just a few minutes earlier is enough to pull you back to your senses.

A light knock at the door is all you do at first, hoping to god he hears it but there’s no response and with Draco there is always a response and so you knock again, a couple more times and just that slightest bit harder. “Go away, Blaise!” Draco yells from the other side of the door and you can tell from the distance in his voice that he’s at the other side of the room. Fuck, this probably isn’t the best idea really, coming up here to talk to him. If he’s not even willing to talk to Blaise, he’s definitely not going to want to talk to you. But despite that, you ignore his words and gently push the door open deciding he’s not going to let you in if you ask.

“Draco?” The word comes out as a question at first, your voice quieter than you anticipated it would be but it’s been so long since you were alone in a room with him and you shouldn’t be nervous because he was your best friend but you are. You never had any reason to be intimidated by Draco when you spent practically every minute together, now you sort of had an idea why people felt that way about him. “Draco, it’s Y/N.” He’s staring out of the window when you enter, his hands in his pockets and he’s trying to relax but the second he hears your voice his shoulders tense before he turns to face you. You notice instantly that his eyes are red as though he’s been crying, something you’d only ever seen once before but it’s so clear against his pale complexion that anyone would be able to tell.

“I told you to go away.” Draco’s words are monotone; he won’t even look you in the eye. You contemplate pointing out that actually he told Blaise to go away but you decide strongly against that. “What do you want, Y/N?” Tiredness, boredom leaks from his voice. As though he’s fed up of talking to you even though these are the first words spoken between the two of you in weeks. It hurts a little bit; you won’t deny that.

“You looked upset so I came to see if you were okay.” You’re cautious with your language at the moment, aware that often when Draco is in one of these volatile moods, the smallest wrong word uttered can cause him to lose him temper. You’re really not up for that being directed at you.

“I’m fine.” Bullshit. He’s talking bullshit and you both know it but he’s too stubborn to say anything and you’re too stubborn to let it drop. “It’s not your place to care about how I feel anymore. You don’t have any kind of right to come in here and start insisting I spill everything to you so you if you think that’s gonna happen, you might as well just save us both sometime and leave right now.” All you do is shake your head at his words and you can tell he’s trying his best to bite back an offensive comment of some kind – that makes you feel slightly better, at least he’s a little considerate for your feelings.

“Is that why you ended it then? Just a way to hide yourself away so you don’t have to face the fact that people want answers from you?” Maybe your words came out a little too harsh at that point but you can’t help it. Draco is so fucking infuriating. He didn’t seem all too angry with you since you arrived, just as though he really would rather be anywhere else but in a room with you except at your words, you notice of a flash of rage in his eyes; he holds it back though, completely aware of who he’s talking to. “Look, I can’t help that I care about you. I can’t just switch it off, not after all this time and I hate that you can just do that and it doesn’t bother you but I’m not like you.”

“I didn’t do any of this to spite you, you’re making it sound like I did it to hurt you.” Again, his eyes don’t meet yours as he speaks and you feel the hollow feeling in your chest that you’ve felt every time you’ve failed to catch his gaze – how in the world have things changed so much? All you can do in response to his words is scoff, you don’t fully believe that he did break up with you just to hurt you but there had to be some motivation behind it. “I’m doing it to help you, don’t you understand? I-I’m not the kind of person you want to be around, I’m not who you thought I was and I don’t want to go through all of this again with you so can you just get out.”

It’s the second time he’s told you to leave and it’s the second time you’ve ignored him. You notice the way his jaw clenches, he’s far from calm right now but you know he’s doing his best to hold it back. “Well thank you, Draco. Thank you for being considerate enough to cut me out of your life, how will I ever repay you?” Sarcasm drips from every syllable that leaves your mouth, Draco shakes his head in response.

“How about you leave me the fuck alone for once in your life? I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want to talk to anyone. I have enough shit to deal with without you whining at me because you’re upset. There’s bigger problems in the world, Y/N.” Draco keeps his voice steady and as his eyes finally meet yours, you’re struck by how cold they are. Cold and uncaring, something you’d never experienced from him before.

“Bigger problems like gate crashing Slughorn’s party? Or the fact you’ve got Snape making unbreakable vows to protect you, help you. Except you’re not having that because you’re some kind of ‘chosen one’, right? Merlin, Draco you’re almost as bad as Potter.” Yes, you may be on good terms with Harry right now but that was comment you couldn’t hold back, you knew that would get under Draco’s skin. You can feel the shock resonating from him at your words, his eyes widening just the slightest but he regains his composure as though what you just said didn’t surprise him. Draco hates admitting when someone else has the upper hand.

“You can’t talk to me anymore so you’ve taken to stalking me instead?” His eyebrows raise questioningly as he studies you suspiciously, his eyes trailing down your body and back up to your face in a way that makes you feel more uncomfortable then you’ve ever felt around him. “I must say, Y/N, I never thought of you as being that desperate.” So. Fucking. Patronising.

“I wasn’t stalking you,” There’s no way Draco will believe you when your cheeks have already heated up from the embarrassment. Embarrassment over something that isn’t even true but it seems that your body is dead set on betraying you. “Harry overheard you and Snape in the corridor the other day, he told me and-“

“And then Potter and his little Gryffindor followers sent you to run along and find out as much dirt about evil Malfoy as possible.” Draco cuts you off and you feel shame run through your body at his words even though they’re not true in the slightest. Since when did he begin to think so little of you? And god, it made you so fucking pissed when he patronised you like that, it wasn’t something you were willing to stand for.

“Will you stop being such a prick for just one second and have a proper conversation?” You’re shouting at him now, louder than you’ve ever shouted at him before and you notice the way his eyes darken, now he’s going to mad at you. More than before. You chose to ignore it and keep talking. “Harry didn’t ask me to do anything, I barely even believed him until now. I wanted to hear it from you, and now I know he was right and whatever you’ve gotten yourself involved in scares me so will you just tell-“

You can’t finish your sentence though because suddenly, your back is against the door with a thud that you’re sure would have winded you if you were shoved against the wood any harder. Except you don’t have time to protest because Draco’s lips are on yours, fast and desperate and you’re wondering when the hell he even got close enough to do this but all you do is moan into his mouth as you start to kiss back. This is what you’ve been waiting for. Ever since you got back to school, you’ve been waiting for Draco to want you like this, to want you in an I-have-to-have-you-right-now kind of way and typical that It only happens in the middle of an argument, when you’re not longer together but you don’t complain as his tongue pushes its way into your mouth. And he’s still mad at you, you can tell from the way his hands are pinning your arms by your sides so tightly against the door you can feel the wood pressing into them. You can tell from the way he’s dominating the kiss, his tongue fully in charge and Merlin, you want to run your fingers through his hair more than anything right now but he won’t let go. Not that you mind; part of you remembers that sex with Draco when he’s in this kind of mood is always the best.

Draco’s mouth tastes of fire whiskey and chocolate, he’s been to Hogsmeade today. Most likely alone given the fact that you’d seen everyone else around the school today – where else would he get fire whiskey? The thought vanishes from your mind as his lips leave yours and you find yourself holding back a whimper of dissatisfaction because the way his mouth felt on yours after so long was just intoxicating… you’re practically dizzy from it. But your disappointment doesn’t last long because those lips you’re so familiar with are on your neck now and oh god, you can feel his teeth nibbling on that one area that he knows drives you mad. Your head tilts backwards and hits the door with a thud but you don’t even notice, too focused on the way he’s sucking on your neck and there’s gonna be a mark or several but you don’t care. Draco lets go of your wrists finally and your first instinct is to tangle your fingers in his hair until Draco’s hands are under your thighs. “Jump.” He murmurs against your skin and you do as he says, your legs wrapping around his waist as he starts carrying you towards his bed.

Draco drops you down on to his bed and you crawl backwards so you can rest your head on the pillows, watching as he gets on the bed, one hand either side of your head as he moves his face closer to yours, you close your eyes waiting for him to kiss you again. His lips touch yours and it’s soft and brief, barely even a kiss and more like a brushing of his mouth against yours. And then he pulls away and you can no longer feel the tickle of his warm breath against your face. Involuntarily, you move your head to follow his, just wanting to kiss him, to taste him again but your lips never meet and when you open your eyes, Draco is staring down at you. There’s a smirk on his face, amusement in his eyes laced with a sense of overpowering lust.

“I missed you.” Draco speaks finally and his voice is rough, probably from the excitement of kissing you but your pulse has quickened, your head spinning. “I missed kissing you…” His mouth is on your jaw, light kisses that make your heart flutter. “I missed touching you…” They move a little closer, now he’s kissing the corner of your mouth and oh god, if he just moved his head a little to the left you could taste him again. “I missed fucking you…” Your breath hitches in your throat at his words and his lips press onto yours again more forcefully this time, a whimper escapes you at the power behind his kiss before he pulls away. Fucking tease.

“Draco.” The word leaves your mouth without you even noticing, it sounds more like a plea than anything else, telling him to hurry up because you’ve been waiting long enough and he’s just prolonging everything – most likely on purpose. “Draco, please.” You realise you’re practically verifying his previous comment about desperation right now but you can’t make a single part of you care. You don’t even know where this came from, just minutes ago you were practically screaming at each other and now… well, now Draco’s undone his belt on his trousers and Merlin, you’ve been waiting so long for this. It feels like forever.

Quite clearly, your words have gotten to Draco as he’s not being painfully slow anymore, obviously the teasing was getting to him just as much as it was you. His trousers are off now, discarded to some part of the floor and now he’s just in his underwear and a shirt as he moves towards you, lifting your skirt up to around your waist before grabbing the hem of your underwear. Maybe he’s just as desperate as you for this, not even taking the time to undress you properly. Or maybe, he’s aware that neither of you have locked the door to the dorm and it’d be best to do this quickly. Now your underwear is on the floor also and you feel your whole body tingling with anticipation, watching as he’s now naked from the waist down and he’s kneeling between your legs.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He purrs, lust laced in every word that leaves his mouth as he stares down at you. “You want me to fuck you?” All you do is nod your head to which Draco tilts his own in response, as though he doesn’t understand. You know he want to hear you say it, he always wants to hear you say, hear you beg for it. And so you comply, your words coming out shakily as you tell him how fucking badly you want him, need to feel him inside you. The words seems to satisfy him enough as he shuffles a little closer to you.

Draco moves one hand to your hip as he moves himself closer to your entrance, guiding himself in position with the other hand and you’re fully aware of how aroused you are right now. A moan escapes your mouth as he enters you, his movement slow but both his hands are gripping your hips so tightly as he pushes into you that you think there will probably be a mark or two when this is done. You can hear Draco’s breathing halt as he pushes into you, a small groan of pleasure leaves his lips once he’s all the way in and when you look up at him, you see the way his eyes are closed, his jaw slightly ajar. Beautiful. Draco only gives you a few seconds to adjust before he starts to move his hips and gods, it feels so fucking good. He takes your sounds of pleasure as a cue to speed up his movements, using his grip on your hips as a way to pull you down to meet his thrusts and that only serves to let him go deeper inside you.

With each thrust into you, he gets faster and harder to the point where your body jolts up the bed each time, the bedframe smashing against the wall. If the common room is quiet enough, there’s a significantly large chance people down there could hear you but neither of you can find it in you to care right now. Especially not when Draco hits that one spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back into your head briefly and he knows he’s found it from the way you grip the bed sheets more tightly than before, the high pitched moan that echoes around the room. “Fuck, Draco. Oh- fuck.” You’re barely able to keep the words in your mouth, not even aware that you’re speaking really. You can feel a heat building up in the core of your body, your stomach tightening and it gets harder to breath in between moans and curses and Draco’s name leaving your mouth.

The sound of your name from his mouth as Draco’s thrusts become more erratic echoes around the room and you know you’re not going to last much longer, neither is he judging by how every breath that leaves his mouth is followed by the most erotic sounds. Fuck, you’d give anything for this to last forever but it can’t and it definitely isn’t going to. In fact, it only takes a few more thrusts before you come undone beneath Draco, your whole body enveloped in pleasure. For a second, all you can feel is the how good you feel, not even aware of what’s actually going around you until you come to your senses as Draco pulls out and collapses on the bed beside you, one arm loosely hanging over your waist as he regains his energy.

You let your eyes trail over the blonde figure beside him, his hair slightly wavier than usual because of sweat, eyes closed only just as his breathing slows down to a normal level. It hurts a little, that you can’t have this all the time anymore. Unless this means he’s willing to try again but you doubt that. Although, you do have a small hope that maybe you can start to talk again now, now you’ve had sex there’s no way he can go back to just acting like you don’t exist. You sigh a little, gently lifting his arm off of you as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed to search for your underwear, standing up as you slide them on. Maybe when you’ve both recovered you can have a talk; not necessarily about Draco’s problems or anything to do with either of you, just a chat about practically nothing seems good enough for you.

“You need to leave now.” A jolt of fear or anger or sadness – you’re not sure which – shoots down your spine as you hear Draco’s voice from behind you, still slow from exhaustion but his words are firm. “This was mistake, Y/N, you have to go. Now.” This isn’t like Draco, this isn’t him. He doesn’t do things like this. Yeah, maybe he’d fuck someone and tell them to leave straight after but not you. He wouldn’t do that to you. Except he has and you will yourself not to tear up but god, how can he break your heart this much with just a few words?

“Are you serious?” Dammit, why does your voice have to sound so small and pathetic? You spin round to look at him and he’s stood at the other side of his bed, fastening his belt and tucking his shirt in. You half expect him to look at you with that amused expression he always does when he’s playing a trick on you but instead he glances at your briefly and shrugs. “I’m not your fucking whore, Draco. I’m not here for you to just have fun with and then forget about until you feel like it.” Your voice is raised now, anger is definitely what you feel as you look at him.

“Then why did you go along with it?” He shouts at you, his eyes flashing with the same anger that must be resembled in yours and you feel your heart sink at the fact that he doesn’t even deny what you said. “No, look, it wasn’t like that and you know it.” Sometimes you hate the way Draco can go from yelling to perfectly calm within the space of a few seconds like he did just now but you know from the steady tone of his voice that he’s still angry. “It- that wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t know what came over me but it wasn’t meant to happen.”

“But it did happen. Whether you wanted it to or not, it happened.” Given the fact Draco’s lowered his tone, you make an effort to do the same but your words a still sharp. “You have no right to treat me like shit just because we’re not dating anymore, you’ve got no fucking right.” As you observe his face, you notice that he looks a little hurt by your words. This is something that you can’t quite understand because right now, he’s the one in the wrong, he’s the one who fucked everything up again just when you thought things could be okay.

“I’m doing this to protect you!” You laugh in disbelief at his words; typical of a Malfoy to always want to come across as noble even when they’re so clearly out of order. “Don’t you understand? We can’t be together because it’s not safe! You’re not safe with me.” He’s serious, you notice by the frantic tone of voice he has, his wide eyes that show you he’s definitely not saying this to scare you aware. That’s when you realise you’ve never seen Draco look scared before, not completely and totally terrified. That is, not until you saw the emotion briefly flash over his features, quick enough that anybody else who didn’t know the difference between the real Draco and the tough façade he wears every day wouldn’t have noticed it but you do.

“Maybe I’d understand if you actually told me what’s going on. Talking in riddles isn’t helping either of us.” Draco’s eyes are practically pleading with you at this point to just stop asking questions because he wants to tell you, you know that now but he can’t. A small shake of his head as he averts his eyes to the floor confirms your assumptions and you can’t hide the disappointment you feel. “Didn’t think so.” Those are the last words you say before you exit the dormitory and Draco doesn’t even attempt to stop you. He was completely right before – this was a mistake.

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