#She passed away unexpectedly in her sleep around noon

[its-a-beautful-day]

Happy Luner Landing 🌕🚀

[yanafiles]

2023 recap

Usually, I write mini recaps hours or even minutes before the new year comes. But I had trouble sleeping last night because my mind was on the work of recalling everything I did this year. I initially thought I had not done my best until things kept popping into my mind last night. Kaya pala ako napagod, I just thought.

So nung January, which is the start of a new semester, start din ng pagdodorm ko. I can still remember the first time I met two of my dormmates, akala they were older than me. Then came another, mas matanda pa rin ako. Mukha kasi akong pinaka bunso, but it appears I was their ate pala. From then on, new memories with these new people were created. Though short, yung time I spent with them are definitely worth it.

Peak time din ng pagkacrush ko sa classmate ko that time. But you know what, di ko sya naenjoy. Napagod lang ako. For some reason, peak time din ng pagkadelulu ko nung panahon na yon. Probably because ideal type ko talaga siya. In fact, dahil sa kanya, I cut my hair really really short. Bukod sa mainit, knowing that short doesn't look good to me, ayoko na maconsious around him. Pero mission failed tayo mga mamshie. Crush ko pa rin sya kahit anong move on ko.

The first semester was especially tiring for me. Ang hirap ng mga subjects kaya more effort talaga ako. Pero looking back, worth it naman siya.

Also, I just wanted to share how many times kami nagpapalit-palit ng thesis title kasi di talaga namin makuha kuha yung pinaka interest namin at di namin mapagtanto yung problem na willing namin talagang pagpaguran. Still, kahit kami yung huling huling ng defense noon, turns out, kami pala highest that time.

Skip ko na siguro yung birthday ko kasi di ko na rin maalala kung anong ganap ko nun, pero definitely, wala akong pasok kasi nakapagsimba ako ng morning noon.

Then came March. Busy pa rin as usual kasi aside from thesis, may inaasikaso rin kaming research sa ibang subject namin. Narush talaga yon, plus yung zines na talagang pinag effortan namin. Talagang ang dami pala naming projects that time that I would really just wish to end that semester.

March din ang exam ko for the Civil Service Eligibility. I still remember how hopeless I was that time kasi kinapos na ako sa oras. Super hirap nya lalo yung english part kasi parang lahat ng conditions and statements ay tama. Bakit ba kasi nila ako pinapipili ng plot kung hindi naman ako author nung story hmpp. Sabi ko pa, bawi na lang ako next time, uunahin ko na yung math kasi mas mabilis ko yung nasagutan. Sa bandang huli, nagshade na lang ako ng answer sheet without looking on the questions na haha. But I do recall na pinag effortan kong sagutan yun math. I thought, dito man lang makabawi ako, malay natin mahatak yung score ko. Ang hirap kasi magbook ng appointment kahit application pa lang. On my way home, sabi ko, pag hindi ko ito naipasa, ibig sabihin magkakajowa ako. Fast forward to June, Surprisingly naipasa ko siya mga acclaaaa. Super happy naman ako that time kahit na nakakatawa kasi gayun na lang ang di pagsang-ayon ng tadhana na umibig ako hahhahahahhaha.

Andami ko pang ganap ng June.

Around this year din, an amazing person, the principal of my high school alma mater, passed away. Upon seeing the news, unexpectedly, I cried. Hindi kami close, pero she saw the potential in me. Sa maiikling panahon, she trained me in writing. She brought so many good opportunities hindi lang sa akin, pero sa buong school. She loved her students as their real lola. May she rest in peace.

That time, nakapag gather din kami ng high school friends ko. Para ngang kahapon lang nung sabay sabay pa kami naglalakad sa school. I miss the old times, lalo na when we visited the wake in school. Parang kailan lang talaga...

It's also the month of my internship training. I met really good and talented people lalo na sa field nila. Who'd imagine na makakatravel kami around QC, maliligaw pauwi, matututo akong umuwi sa amin dahil sa sobrang pagkamiss ko sa bahay namin hihuu. Plus, I got to travel around the Laguna de Bay. One month lang yun pero super eventful ng OJT namin na yun.

During our stay din in QC, I decided to join a new org pero this time, gusto ko lang ipursue yung naiwanan ko dati which is writing. Luckily naman, naipasa ko yung paexam nila as well as the interview.

September ata naganap yung first phase ng BFF movement namin ni Raf. October naman yung final stage. Accomplishment sya sa akin kasi I never thought I'd be willing to join that team. Wala kasi sa personality ko sumali sa mga outside activities. But I made it naman.

That month din when I first applied for my NBI clearance, created a new bank account, and finally, finallyyy, nakapagjoin na ako sa stock market. Plan ko na talaga siya since pandemic pero wala pa kasi akong kakayanan that time to invest. Pangarap ko lang siya before na mastress kapag negative ang value ng stocks. I just recently realize na I am living the dream na pala, except di pala nakakatuwa kapag down ang stock market, ansakit lang sa mata na namumula yung portfolio ko.

It was October when I finally got my certificate of eligibility for the civil service. I feel so fulfilled that time kasi kahit papaano, less na siya sa iintindihin ko sa paghahanap ng trabaho.

November naman when I applied for passport. Wala lang hahahahhaha gusto ko lang na may iba akong valid id. Pero deep inside, I wish na magamit ko talaga yung pinaka use ng passport na yon. Sana mapuno ko siya to the point na magrerequest pa ako ng extra pages hahahhahahahhaha.

Then came December. My first outreach program. Ayoko pa nga sumama pero a good friend of mine convinced me too. How? Because she understood me. Since my first mangrove planting last December 2022, parang hahanap-hanapin ko na from now on yung mga ganitong events every December. Hahanap-hanapin ko yung mga bagay na worth doing bago man lang matapos yung taon. Also, December is a Christmas season. A season to do something from the heart.

Ask my hair, andami niyang pinagdaanan. Nakailang haircut and hair dyes din ako. In fact, I dyed my hair just now. Pag tinignan nyo yung gallery ko sa phone, iba iba yung itsura ko every now and then. Pero ngayon, plano ko na pahabain yung buhok ko kasi namimiss ko na hhahahahhahaha.

2023, ang haba mo at napagod ako. Pero thank you for fulfilling one of my wishes: growth. I learned a lot, pati na rin with regards to the matters of the heart. I am grateful to have lived you. I am grateful for the people you introduced to my life. I am grateful for the many experiences I gained, may it be a failure or a success.

Dear 2024, on the way na ako...

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By the king’s hand 🐍 IX

Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers (this chapter, noncon, trauma)

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You receive an unexpected visitor as the king behaves unexpectedly.

Note: Yay, another chapter!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Gilla left as the windows began to dim and a cool breeze washed over you. You remained as you had been, on your side, arms crossed, filled with rage but dragged down under a blanket of fatigue. But sleep wouldn’t cum and closing your eyes only made your head pound. 

So you stared at the canopy that hung from the corner of the bed as Loki’s words echoed in your head. You might be angry with Gilla, you might never forgive her, but could you let her be punished by the merciless king and his cronies? You couldn’t deny that it was nice to have company other than the king but you couldn’t help but think of that day. If you hadn’t followed her, if you had just left her behind… would she be in your place? Would she be worse off?

It didn’t matter. You were the one thrown in the dungeons and whipped. You were the one wrenched out of them and tormented by the king’s depravity. And you were the one laying in the early evening shade wishing none of it had happened.

You heard the door to the receiving chamber and you sat up. You sat at the edge of the bed and stretched out the cramps in your arms and sides. The white silk around your body sent a shiver up your spine and you looked over as a shadow appeared in your peripheral. You ignored it as you stood and closed the window.

“The autumn has come,” Loki said as the window snapped shut. “Even the leaves begin to turn.”

You ignored him and kept your back to him as you peered through the mosaiced glass. His footsteps moved lightly along the floor as you sensed him pacing behind you.

“I am still your king. You cannot ignore me thus.” He demanded.

“Your majesty.” You said firmly and swept away from the window to sit on the bench.

He sighed and took your place by the window. He leaned against the sill as he watched you and you stared at the floor. 

“What is the matter?” He asked.

You looked at him sharply and clenched your jaw. If you said all that you thought, he might just toss you to the dungeons again. Was it truly worse than here?

“Nothing, your majesty, merely awaiting your orders.” You said blithely.

His forehead wrinkled and he tapped his heel on the floor. He played with the front of his jacket and pushed his hair behind his shoulders.

“Do you know how long you were… disposed?” He asked.

“Does it matter?” You shrugged.

He watched you, his eyes strayed to the front of the white sleeping gown; it did little to hide your figure. You resisted the chill that crept through you and tilted your head.

“More than a week. Close to two.” He answered his own question. “I had my physician feed you and see that you were sustained. You did not sleep for all of it but when you were awake… well, do you recall any of it?”

You swallowed and shook your head. “So why did you not rid yourself of me then? Barely any use to be had.”

He wiggled his long fingers and pushed himself from the sill. He neared and stood before you. He looked down his long nose and you refused to look back.

“I did think of it, I cannot lie, but I spent too much time upon your training, little mouse.”

“Training?” Your eyes flicked up in disgust.

“Perhaps I might not harness your mind but your body does respond to me,” he bent and grinned as he brought his finger up under your chin, “But I might have left you overwrought. Birger did recommend I allow you some rest.”

He dragged his thumb over your lip and you recoiled. He snickered and stood straight. He backed away and strode around the chamber.

“There is a proper meal on the table. You must eat if you are to recover your strength,” he let out a long breath as he neared the door, “And for this night at least, I shall restrain myself from you.”

You sneered at him. “Am I to thank you for that? When you put me in such a state? Oh, what pious abstinence you have, my king.”

He laughed again and his tongue slid over his lip. “My king…” he mulled, “I do prefer that, little mouse.” He curled a finger towards himself, “Come. Eat. And do try not to look at me so, it riles me.”

You tore your eyes away from him and did not move. You listened to his movement and there was a gentle rustle. He neared again and a rush of air swept around you and a swath of dark fabric settled over you. Loki encased you in the black robe he often wore. He braced your arms through the cloth and pulled you to your feet.

“Be angry with me.” He chided, “It assures me that you are well.”

He turned and tugged on your wrist as he drew you with him. You were too weak to resist and in that instant, the king was being more malleable than you’d known him. So you let him and prayed he was not upon another trick. A night without his touch would be the closest to content you could hope for.

🐍

Loki slept beside you but kept away from you. You were surprised and wary of his distance but he did nothing but snore softly and twitch now and then. When he woke, he called Hal to ready him for his day, and left you as you were. His calm had you unsettled. He had a sinister patience and you knew, it would not hold out.

You rolled out of bed shortly after. The wardrobe was unlocked and you dressed in a green gown and block stockings along with a pair of beaded slippers. You ate the bread, cheese, and grapes waiting for you in the receiving chamber and sat with your thoughts before your empty plate. Your stomach was painfully thankful for the meal.

You watched noon rise through the window. The sun beamed at its apse as the scent of fall whisked in. How long had you been in the royal abode? More than a month? Maybe two? You couldn’t remember. The blur of days one into the next unsettled you. Would the rest of your life pass in the same despondence?

You were disturbed only by the noise of armor outside the door. You shuddered as you thought of Magnus and the last words he’d said to you. Loki had distracted you from the villain on the other side of the wall. What would keep him from intruding in the king’s absence and seeing through his promises?

The muffled timbre of his voice gave you pause as you began to pace. You heard boots on the stone as he was met by another. You recognized the tones but could not place them exactly. You wrung your hands as you faced the door and listened.

“The king is away,” Magnus huffed. “He is not expecting you, your highness.”

“I have seen to it that he isn’t,” the other returned. From his title, you could guess it was the king’s brother but for what reason he would come to the capital, you could not surmise. “Is the girl within?”

“The girl?” Magnus repeated.

“Do not act dumb with me, you brute,” Thor snapped, “You know of whom I speak.”

“She is but she is to receive no company but that permitted by the king.” Magnus declared.

“I am still a prince, I shall permit myself,” Thor rebuffed and the door jolted suddenly as the handle turned. The guard growled as the prince forced his way into the chamber and you retreated behind the sofa. “Ah, there you are.”

“Your highness,” you eked out as you looked around. “The king--”

“The king is at council, I know. I have come to surprise him.” Thor boomed. “And you, sweet maiden.” He approached the other side of the couch. “I see he keeps you well,” he peered down at your gown, “But I think red might suit you better.”

“There is wine in the cabinet,” you offered, uncertain what else to say.

“Perhaps later,” he said, “Why do you shy away? Do I scare you, my lady? I promise I am no villain.”

You shook your head, unable to find your voice. He chortled and rounded the sofa. You stumbled back and caught yourself on the straight back of the couch.

“I have been astride for much of the last days, perhaps you might accompany me on a walk of the gardens? I would do well to stretch my legs.” He stopped before you.

“I cannot-- Lo-- The king--”

“You let me attend to my brother. I handle him better than any.” He held out his hand. “Come, lady. As the seasons change, you would be remiss to remain pent up.”

“I don’t--” You began.

“Whatever displeasure he finds in it shall be my burden, not yours,” he insisted, “But if you should go against a prince, he will find his own recompense.”

It was a threat. A subtle one. The brothers, as dissimilar as they appeared, were more alike than any could know. You did not dare to test his words.

“I would not go against you, your highness,” you took his hand meekly, “Is it very cold outside?”

“A cloak might do you well,” he eyed the length of silk around your hips as he untied his cap with his other hand, “You might borrow mine.”

“Thank you, your highness, but I--”

“Let us be off,” he draped the red cloak over your shoulders and dropped your hand to tie it beneath your throat. “It has been a time since I was in the capital.”

He took your hand again and pulled you to the open door. Your eyes met Magnus’ as you were guided out into the corridor. He turned to face the prince.

“I should go,” Magnus said, “The king has charged me with her safety.”

“You needn’t trouble yourself,” Thor smirked, “I shall be there. She needn’t anymore protection than my own.”

“The king--”

“I will not remind you of my title again. If you are so concerned with your master, dog, why don’t you go find him?” Thor snarled.

He brushed past the guard who scowled at the dismissive gesture and led you down the corridor. You were off-balance as he tugged you along and you struggled to keep up with his long steps. The stairs proved near treacherous as your nerves had you unsteady. The stone passed you by as your thoughts raced.

As you came out in the sunlight, the prince’s hand went to the small of your back and his gait slowed. He drew you closer as he led you around the façade. The tall hedges stood at the other end of the yard and the song of birds mingled with the vines that grew over the walls of the palace.

“I was rather disappointed that my brother cut our introduction so short,” he said at last, “And he was so quick to be away I thought to come visit him instead.”

“Oh,” you watched your skirts move around your legs as you walked.

“I do love my brother, even if he does not think so.” He neared the maze of greenery and inhaled the scent of pollen and dirt. “He can be so… detached. And I was almost insulted to think he would hide anything from me. Especially a creature such as yourself. It is as if he does not trust me.” He shook his head and looked down glumly. “Why, he would not have the throne if I had not abdicated. Not that I’d want it back. He is better made for that than I.”

You said nothing. There was nothing you could say. You were a peasant and a whore. Your grasp of politics was sparse if not comical to those born to it.

“Tell me, lady, where did my brother find you? I never saw you at court before.”

You looked away and examined the bushes. You felt thin as air, ready to dissipate into nothing.

“I am not of the court, your highness.” You confessed.

“Oh? A servant then? Gods knows my father did have a taste for them as well.”

“I am-- was a crafter. I worked in my uncle’s shop.” You replied. 

“Ah…” The prince thought, “And he was a patron to your uncle’s business.”

“Well… no. We worked with clay and wood more than silver or gold. He--” You blinked. How could you say it? Should you?

“You needn’t be shy with me, lady. I am only curious about my brother’s pet.” He mused and you frowned. “Oh, I see, you do not like that. Well, what should I call you? What are you to him?”

You stopped short and he turned to face you as his arm slipped from behind you. “You might guess at it but I don’t think it needs to be said.”

He chuckled and puffed his chest. “I see.” He squinted, “He always did like a woman with a will. And to think a peasant might dare to act as her own… My brother is not so complicated as he pretends.”

“Your brother will be upset you broke into his chambers, I think.”

“And as perturbed that you did go with me, my insistence be damned.” He grinned. “I am not your enemy so do not make me one.”

You averted your eyes and carried on as he turned to walk beside you once more. You were quiet, pensive. You recalled the tournament and how you had sneaked out; it was the last you had been out on your own feet. You followed the prince as he knew the labyrinth well and your gaze strayed to the thorny roses as you reached the centre.

“Sit,” he guided you to a stone bench, “I wouldn’t think Loki allows you much time without his chambers. If you were mine, I wouldn’t either.” He winked and pivoted on his heel, “Perhaps when I am here, I might find a lamb of my own.”

You watched his broad shoulders as he fingered the petals of a rose.

“I love my wife but she nears motherhood and thinks more of the child than her own husband. She isn’t of the condition to tend to my affections,” he mourned. “But a man has needs and if a wife cannot serve her husband, he musts seek them elsewhere.”

You shifted on the bench as he continued along the brush. “My brother is wise. When he finds a wife, he can retain you still. You see wives are not so… daring.”

“Surely not,” you muttered. “Are there not whores in your city?”

“Whore-- do not be so crude,” he reproached. “But I’ve not yet found any I should like as a mistress.”

You nodded as you watched his back. He continued around the border of the small square at the centre of the maze. You gripped the edge of the bench. You bent as if to stand and he didn’t seem to notice. Your heart began to patter as you stood. As the thought dared to flit through your mind.

When would you ever see the outside of the palace again? When had you so long away from the king? When had a chance ever shone so brightly before you? Why, you had been arrested upon your intrusion so how difficult should it be to reverse your trespass?

You stepped slowly along the bench. Thor bent and plucked a rich red bloom. He stood and turned to face you.

“Do you dare try it?” He wondered. “Do you think you might get far?”

Your eyes flashed and you froze. He smiled and held up the rose to his nose.

“Go on and lose yourself in these hedges. I will wait an hour before I report back your flight.” He snickered. “More than enough time.”

“What-- Why?” You sputtered.

“Because it is what you want. Because my brother did lie to me. Because I enjoy his temper.” He came closer and flicked away the rose. “Because I have been bored for months.”

“No, no. We should go back.” You deflated. “If I run…”

“He will be most unhappy. And to think what he should do to you.” He tutted. “But if you don’t run,” he pushed his cape back on your shoulders and cupped your tits. “To think what I should do.”

You shoved his hands away and fell back on the bench. You caught yourself and spun so that you came up on the other side of it. He bent and placed his hands flat on the stone. “So, my dear, do you think you might evade me for long enough? If you do, do you think you might elude my brother too?”

You blanched and your skirts caught on the bushes as you backed away.

“Oh, but let’s be fair. I shall count one hundred seconds before I seek you out.” He raised his hands and covered his eyes coyly. “Better be quick, my lady.”

You peered around in disbelief. He couldn’t be serious and yet he began to count aloud and your blood turned cold in your veins. You trembled and turned on your heel. You rushed to the other side of the square and lunged into the winding pathway. If you could retrace your steps, you might escape and tell Loki what his brother did. But the king might not believe you; surely he wouldn’t and you would be the one to atone for Thor’s lust. Though if you could escape them both…

You raced blindly along the hedges as Thor’s count faded, though it floated on the air still. When it stopped, your chest clenched. You were lost. You’d tried to recall all the way you’d come but it had all been scrambled by the adrenaline pulsing through you. You stopped and hissed as your lungs burned. You clawed at the laces along your throat and threw the cape over the hedge. You continued back and turned along another path.

You heard steps on the other side of the hedge. You stopped and listened as you walked slowly along the dirt. You heard a laugh and you got down on the ground. You slid beneath the bush, more so, into it, as the leaves pricked your skin and tickled you. You tugged your skirts after you as your ears burned at the noise of the prince’s pursuit.

“Oh ho, my lady, I know you are close.” He stomped along the next hedgeway, “A clever trick but you forget who I was raised with.” 

His boots came into view as you stilled in the bushes. You hoped the green silk helped hid you amid the leaves and dying buds. He stopped and knelt for a moment. “But which way did you go? I shall sniff you out, little lamb.”

You covered your mouth as ripples of fear swallowed you up. You squeezed your eyes shut as he continued his taunting. At last, he stood and turned back the way he’d come. “I hear you…” he called ahead of him as he rushed on, “Gods, I will have you!”

You let out a breath as his voice trailed away. You didn’t dare move in fear that he might come back. Though Thor did not share the same reputation as his brother, you suspected he was just as bad.

🐍

The sun had shifted to the west when you finally emerged from the leaves. The sky continued to darken as you wove through the walkways. You stopped only when you heard the clink of armor and the call to assemble. The guards had been searching for more than an hour by then. You kept close to the bushes and sank back in as you avoided the marching sentries.

You came out near the outer walls of the palace grounds. You caught your breath against the stone and ducked down along the brush. It wasn’t far from here that you’d been caught that fateful night. As you watched Gilla climb to freedom and you were dragged back down to your oblivion. 

You could see the moon as the sun began to set. It was a sliver of hope. The search carried on as you kept to the shadows and the statues. Several times, you’d nearly been caught. Each, you were certain you would. Once, you tried to start a scale of the wall but had been scared back down by the voices below.

You crept around to the gates and watched from behind the plinth of a tall statue of an ancient king. You watched from your vantage as the guards stopped each person and each cart to inspect. You might be able to sneak under the axle of one. Might.

The longer you stayed on royal grounds, the more likely you’d be found out. You couldn’t go back now and feign being lost. You couldn’t blame Thor when he’d surely already expounded a tail of your deception. You had to get out.

You stayed low as you watched the soldiers search a cart and as they moved to the other side, you approached the large wheel. You heard a thump and shout. The wheel jerked and you barely avoided being crushed as you crawled beneath the cart and hooked your arms and legs into the axel. Your skirts swept the dirt beneath you as you were rattled along.

Clear of the gates, you slowly let yourself down and laid flat until the cart passed over you completely. Stunned, you opened your eyes and felt your body, making certain you hadn’t been mangled without realising it. You sat up and peered around. The city beckoned to you. Welcome home! 

If you could hide in the alleys, you could find a way out. You might even get to the next village before any knew it and from there, you’d be lost to the wind.

You took a step forward and were suddenly jolted back as an arm wrapped around your waist. The heavy mail was cold through the thin fabric of your dress and you were slammed against the wall as a shadow scowled down at you. His heavy breaths seared you in the cool night air.

You squirmed as the gauntlet stretched across your throat and you picked at it helplessly. Your slippers slid in the dirt as you beat at the angry wraith that held you. He leaned in and inhaled so that it tickled your cheek.

“Sneaky little bitch,” Magnus growled.

“Let me go!” You tried to bend his finger back. “Get off!”

He scoffed and tore you from against the wall. He turned you and gripped the back of your neck as he marched you away from the palace and down the road. He kicked your feet as you dug your heels in and thrust your forward. You realised, he wasn’t taking you back.

“Wait, where are you taking me?” You struggled as you latched onto his wrist and he squeezed until you winced. “You monster, get--”

“I’ll kick your fucking teeth in,” he snarled, “Now shut up, whore.”

“You can’t--”

“I can do whatever I want. The king’s charged me to find you. He’s angry enough, imagine how much worse it’ll be when I return empty-handed…” He sneered, “Imagine how the days will feed his temper. To think what he will do when you are eventually discovered.”

“What-- You--”

“If I have to tell you again, I’ll do worse than he ever did,” Magnus twisted your arm back and forced you ahead of him. “Not that I won’t try anyway.”

You whined as it felt as if your arm would snap. He kept on as he steered you towards the dark streets of the city and into a long alleyway.

“It’ll be a pity if his whore should turn up dead,” he snorted, “Pity either way for you.”

[wonderofasunrise]

32 or 61 for Kerry/Susan please ❤️

#61 - "I'm pregnant."

Okay, I'm letting the cat out of the bag now - I have a WIP, a passion project of some sorts in the form of a multi-chapter Kerry/Susan AU fic. I've been working on it on and off for months, writing whatever I can come up with out of order (a process which involves at least three different Google Docs files for notes etc and not-so-subtly tweeting about it every now and then), and I can't promise anything because I just...well, suck at planning things ahead especially when it comes to writing anything lengthy (unless it's an academic essay *laughs nervously*). Fingers crossed I will be able to post the whole thing someday - if and *only* if I manage to finish it in advance, because I love the idea so much I don't want to take the risk of posting it early and writing as I go along...only to (God forbid) abandon it. I don't want to give away too much, but hopefully you'll get the gist from this excerpt of one of the chapters I've managed to finish:

“Susan?” a voice calls me almost immediately as I step out of the cubicle. I look up in a swift move to find the source of the voice, and sure enough my head starts to spin again. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see none other than Kerry Weaver—her bright red hair kind of gives it away—with a very concerned look on her face, which I try my best to ignore.

Slowly, I make my way to the nearest basin, and just as my hand is about to turn the faucet another wave of nausea surges over me. Please do not vomit, please do not vomit, it was bad enough to storm out of a fucking trauma but to vomit in front of Kerry of all people…?

“Are you okay?” she asks just as my nausea passes, the tone of her voice as concerned as her expression. I know that at this point even saying a single syllable will bring back the nausea, so I simply nod.

“Are you sure? I was in the trauma room, and I was just as surprised as everyone else to see you storm out like that…”

“Yes, Kerry, I’m fine,” I suddenly snap, though immediately I can feel guilt lingering over me as I know Kerry is genuinely worried. Say what you want about her, the woman does care about the wellbeing of her colleagues (or employees? Whatever.). I glance at her while putting some water into my mouth, somewhat grateful that I don’t see any sign of her being offended. If anything, her expression grows even more worried, and I know that at this point there is nothing I say that can ease her concern.

“Okay,” Kerry says, seemingly giving in. “It’s just—you normally have the best composure of the lot, and I never expected a trauma to affect you that badly, that’s all…Susan? Can you walk?”

Her concerned tone returns as soon as she catches the sight of me dropping to my knees, no doubt thanks to me turning around too quickly after I finished my business in the sink. Instinctively one of my hands travels to my stomach, and I pray to all that’s holy that the gesture somehow goes unnoticed by Kerry, who is now kneeling next to me, her crutch abandoned, with one of her hands on my back.

“Can you stand up?” she asks in a tone that I would never expect Kerry Weaver to use when speaking to an adult. I nod, though I myself am not quite sure. I try anyway, with one of my hands still firmly on my stomach and the other holding onto Kerry for support. Once I get back on my feet, I let go of the other woman and I take a deep breath, relieved when no more sign of nausea kicks in. I try to make my way out of the ladies’ room, and I can feel Kerry’s eyes firmly on my back as I turn around—more carefully this time.

“You know, if you’re not feeling good, you can go home and rest,” she says. “I-I would hate to see you not in your prime at work, and more importantly it’s clear you really can do with a rest. We have a busy day ahead, and if you’re...feeling like you’re not up for it, you can go home. I can cover for you.”

I can tell she chose her words carefully, and she tried her best not to insinuate that I am not up for a busy day at work. Heck, she knows I’m more than capable—I’m one of her best attendings, after all, but still…who can really guess what Kerry Weaver actually means?

As for going home and resting, I can’t deny that I need it badly. I barely got any sleep last night, partly due to anxiety ahead of my appointment with Coburn this morning, and who can guarantee that I won’t storm out of another trauma? Still, part of me is trying to fight the urge to go home, because work is the best form of distraction I can think of and at home I know I will drive myself mad over everything, with no one to talk to and all.

“I’m pregnant,” I suddenly blurt out, the words coming out of my mouth far more quickly than I could comprehend. My eyes grow wide at the realization of what I just said, to Kerry of all people, and I try to avoid her eyes so much it’s ridiculous.

Unexpectedly enough, Kerry steps closer toward me, and she puts a hand on my shoulder. Just as unexpectedly, I find the gesture quite comforting, and God knows I have been deprived of comfort for far too long the last couple of weeks. It doesn’t feel as awkward as one would expect, coming from Kerry Weaver, and I sigh as I let her hand give my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“How-how far along are you?” she asks in a tone that can barely conceal her surprise.

“Four weeks. I-I saw Coburn this morning,” I say with a shrug. She nods, and then lets go of my shoulder so that she can focus on looking me in the eye, which always makes for an interesting sight thanks to our significant height difference.

“In that case,” she states matter-of-factly, “You should go home and rest. I don’t want you to feel worse than you already do. Go home, get something to eat, and rest. I’ll cover for you for the rest of the shift.”

Now that sounds more like the Kerry Weaver that everyone knows and loves (though that part is still up for debate, I reckon). At this point I know there is no use fighting with her, so I nod and turn back to the door, silently hoping that somehow nobody will pay any attention.

“Kerry?” I mutter, suddenly remembering something important before we part ways. Letting her know of my pregnancy is bad enough (though it’s by no means a fault on her part); having everyone else know before I’m ready will be a disaster. I have enough on my plate at the moment, and the last thing I need is being the center of the latest ER gossip. “Um…thank you for letting me go home for the day, and I guess—well, I would really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone. I have too much to deal with at the moment,” I say in a voice so low I will be surprised if she actually listens.

But apparently she did, because she nods and puts a hand on one of my arms and gives it a gentle squeeze—which, again, does not feel as awkward as one would expect coming from her.

“Of course,” she responds. “It’s not my call to let people know. It’s yours, and yours only. Don’t worry about it.”

And with that, I mouth a thank you before exiting the ladies’ room, trying my best to forget everything that has happened today. It’s not even noon yet, and too much has already taken place. Perhaps Kerry is right: I really can do with a rest.

[gintokisimp]

Whatsername Chapter 2: Extraordinary Girl

More Angst and more Pain. This chapters theme is the song “Extraordinary Girl” by Green Day

Genre: Angst, Romance, Pining

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,568

She's an Extraordinary Girl In an ordinary world

The sun had already gone past the point where it was possible for it to shine it's rays into the city. The faint golden beams reflected on the metallic structures of the ceiling. It would have been a beautiful day, if it wasn't for the strange atmosphere and the deep, heavy clouds forming over Yoshiwara.

A womans delicate arms rested on the railing of a simple balcony in the middle of the shady town, right above a small shop and a busy street.

Beautiful, silky blonde hair was brushed behind her ears on one side and falling loosely over a noticeable big scar on the other half of her face. Her amethyst, dull eyes were fixated on something in the sky only she could see.

Suddenly, a rift that was the color of crimson formed in the dark clouds, shining the last light of the day down on her. The first raindrops hit her illuminated face, steadily growing into a heavy downpour drenching her white kimono decorated with an expensive flower patterns.

Despite the depressing weather, as if nothing mattered in a town of endless desire, an equally big flood of people roamed the busy streets of Yoshiwara.

The courtesan of the suns eyes flickered from the sky to the ground below over the horde of bodies, roaming over the busy streets beneath her. The colors of the vastly different individuals mixed together in her blurred sight, creating an almost homogenous mass of flesh and fabric.

Minutes went by without much change. The woman almost appeared lifeless to anyone daring to take a look up to the balcony.

By late noon, the sky had darkened up and turned the buildings of the town into lifeless gray tones. Only the buzzing electric lights faked a world full of wonders and salvation.

The skies split, a loud rumbling opened the gates of hell.

On days like these, she had weak moments. They invited her mind to spiral down the paths of sorrow.

Humans can have weak moments full of despair. It was ok. But still, it felt like she gave up everything that she had worked so hard on. She didn't want to feel like a woman desperately clinging to a man whom she couldn't reach.

The damsel in distress. The weak princess waiting for the prince to safe her.

That wasn't her.

And she can't seem to get away

The chains of Yoshiwara ceased to exist. They ceased with the death of Hosen, yet no one was really free.

She wasn't free.

She had other responsibilities that she couldn't escape from. Responsibilities she didn't want to escape from. But still, sometimes she felt like running away. Disappearing like he did.

Hinowa forced her to take a day off. Since he left, she had worked day after day. Tsukuyo had dressed well for the day. She wanted to go out, but she couldn't bring herself to leave the room. Her fear of someone catching her weakness kept her inside the house.

But everyone already knew how fragile she was.

She thought she had accepted that he would never love her back. She thought it was enough for her to know he was well.

And right now, she just wants him to be back home, wants him to be happy.

Without her.

She could live with that.

But knowing he was gone, she could not live with that.

A faint image of permed white hair in the crowd caught her attention. Without a second thought, the muscular women leapt over the railing, dashed through the mass, and made her way to the image she saw. Her heart was beating in her throat, tightening it to an uncomfortable degree.

But there was no one there..

The person she thought she had spotted was never there.

A hallucination.

He wouldn't come here.

Tsukuyo remained standing in the pouring rain. Lightning brightened the sky, but she didn't move an inch.

It has been two years. Get over him already.

Her eyes turned up to the silver clouds grazing the skies, mirroring the mess that was corrupting her heart. The heavens cried and so did she.

Heavy rain mixed with her tears, dripping down her porcelain skin.

No one could tell she was crying.

To the surrounding mankind, she was just a courtesan standing in the rain, probably waiting for a customer to take her away, take her to the promised paradise.

Would he still remember her if he ever came back?

He won't come back.

Her fingers touched her pinkie.

He lacks the courage in his mind

He dreamed of her every night.

Holding her Hand.

Holding her in his arms.

Sometimes she fed him Dangos with the warmest smile on her face.

The samurais body was completely drained of energy, yet it desired her deeply.

He dreamed of her hand touching his bare chest.

Her underneath him.

He wanted to hold her, hold her until he died.

Waking up was pure horror.

Dreaming was pure torture.

Sometimes he didn't sleep just to escape the feeling, staring at the dark sky, restraining himself from thinking at all.

Like a child left behind Like a pet left in the rain

Another sunset painted the sky in the most beautiful colors, drenching the giant rock beneath the fully shed tree in red shades. The crickets had stopped their singing, no wind was rustling through the trees, no sounds we carried over the dream like scenery.

It was silent.

Silent, like something went missing along the unstoppable movement of time.

The rock was empty.

No wood scratching over stone was heard, no silver hair was seen in the peaceful landscape.

Instead, slow steps carried a samurai through the streets of a small, lively town. Not paying attention to his surroundings, with no clear goal in mind, he stumbled through the clusters of people taking up the street. Nothing really caught his attention, but driven by hunger he subconsciously aimed in the direction of a small inn.

Unexpectedly, olive blonde hair in a familiar hairstyle passed him and he tensed up.

Tsukuyo.. Tsukuyo

The head he was focused on turned and revealed an old woman. Of course, it wasn't her. What was he thinking.

His limbs gave up and he landed on his back. Sulking in pain, he closed his eyes. The loud noises around him echoed in his head, but one voice was particularly obnoxious.

"Young man"

Gintoki opened his eyes and they met with and old wrinkled face. His throat was too hoarse to speak, he hadn't used it in months.

"What's wrong, are you okay?" His eyes only stared back at the man, uninterested in what he was saying.

"Everything okay?" The man asked again with a more worried tone.

Gintoki didn't reply.

"Get up young man, come with me, you look like you need some care." The man lightly shook his shoulder and Gintoki sighed before hesitantly getting up on his shaking feet. He was friendly and something made Gintoki believe, he was not allowed to say no to this old geezer. They entered the small Inn. It was packed with the towns residents, but the man led him through the masses, up a staircase into a hallway of private rooms.

"Go and take a shower and come downstairs when you're ready." The man said warmly, opening one of the doors.

"I don't have money" Gintoki replied.

"You don't need money. I can't let you meet your family like that"

"What family"

The man inspected him and replied after a long pause.

"I know they are waiting for you. You can't run away from them forever. You shouldn't meet them in this state."

"Why"

"In this town, we help each other and I'm sure you can do the same."

"..I hurt her" Gintoki whispered, ignoring what the man had said.

"You can drink and eat today if you promise me to meet her." And with that, he closed the door. Gintoki was left alone in the room. Still unsure about what was happening, he undressed and let the water stream run down his battered body. The water washed away his thoughts and he felt his body welcoming the change of sensations.

I don't deserve this.

There wasn't a lot of time spent in comforting silence. It came back faster than he wished.

Minutes later, he sat down at a table. No one dared to sit close to him. The old man brought him a full meal and Gintoki ate it voraciously.

After some time, a young woman sat down next to him, sheepishly looking at him, eyeing him with great interest. She would have been beautiful, if he had the eyes for that.

"Do you have a home?" The girl asked Gintoki. "Where do you live, I can take you home" She added suggestively.

Nowhere.

"You can sleep at my place" She whispered in his ear. "You're a handsome man, I can make you feel better" The woman placed down her hand on his, touching his ring finger.

Make you feel better.

Only one woman could do that, and she wasn't here.

Only one women was allowed to touch him like that.

Only this one women taking over his whole mind could make him feel better. Touching him in places that were eternally reserved for her. But she would never touch him.

She wasn't here.

She wasn't here by his side.

She will never be by his side.

The Samurai ripped his hand from under the woman's tight grip. His eyes glancing over to her, glowing with menace. She looked at him in fear, stumbling backwards before rushing out of his sight.

The Shinigami Tayuu is eternally mine. There was no place for any other woman.

Why did she reject him back then.

Why

If she just had said yes.

Or just... anything.

She's all alone again Wiping the tears from her eyes Some days she feels like dying She gets so sick of crying

All tears had already been shed. There really was nothing left that she could cry about.

Yet, she caught herself crying again.

Her cries had been noticed.

Yet, no one really heard her anymore.

She sees the mirror of herself An image she wants to sell To anyone willing to buy

No one needs a man to rely on. Care and live for yourself.

The champions of women, they couldn't be weak to men. She couldn't be weak for anyone, especially not for him. It was only leading a bad example, displaying a weakness they wanted to abolish. Be strong.

But was loving someone really a weakness?

He steals the image in her kiss From her heart's apocalypse From the one called Whatsername

What's worse than realizing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?

I don't mind being only yours.

Lies. You belong to no one. You could never belong to anyone.

Loud creaking of wooden floor tiles caught the courtesans' attention. The sound crept in her ears, finally braking her endless stream of thoughts.

Careful, limping steps made their way in the direction of her door.

Or were they hesitant?

She's all alone again Wiping the tears from her eyes

Somedays he feels like dying

The sweet, burning liquid wetted his parched throat. Every inch of his body, every single cell revolted against the intruding poison, making him feel alive and close to death at the same damn time. It was his first cup of sake, but it intoxicated him like a whole bottle.

"More" he demanded. The old man who's name he had never asked for looked at him with worry in his eyes. Gintoki ignored that.

"Who's gonna pay for that, country samurai?" A mischievous voice bickered from behind him.

"Who're you calling a country samurai, ehhh you wanna fight?" Gintoki blurted back. Without waiting for an answer, he leaped from his chair and dashed in the direction of the voice. His fist made contact with a stubbly face and he smiled satisfied. A whole group of intimidating looking men stood up and gathered around Gintoki.

It was over in mere seconds.

The men were scattered over the floor, Gintokis hands covered in their blood.

It wasn't the alcohol that made him act like this.

He had disappointed the people that tried to help him. Again.

Suddenly, the room shifted. Everything reeled around him and his whole body tingled.

I need fresh air.

He stormed outside and stopped, leaning on a broken lantern.

Gintoki gasped sharply for air and his sight darkened.

Breathtaking sunrise loomed over a huddled silhouette, outlining the man holding a dead body in his arms. The morning sun reflected in the lifeless amethyst eyes.

Blood.

Blood everywhere.

Blood on the soft fabric of her Kimono.

Blood tinting her blonde hair red.

Blood on the tanto he held. The tanto that stuck out of her throat.

Its your fault.

Gintoki blinked and the vision was replaced by a different one.

The swirling mess in his brain turned into a hospital hallway filled with fog. Clean. Too clean.

Aggressive smells desperately tried to over stench the smell of death.

"She's going soon. Do you want to... ?" Asked a bodyless voice. It led him through a plain looking door. Big bouquets of red roses were placed around a hospital bed, obstructing the view on the patient. Floating closer, his eyes caught short white hair framing a thin face. The scar on her face was unmistakably. Her face had sunken in, but she wasn't old. It was something different.

"Gintoki,..'s that you? You're back.." Her white clouded eyes couldn't focus on his face.

"Tsukuyo, there's one thing I never told you." His hoarse voice echoes through the foggy room.

His hand reached out for her face. Black markings covered them, contrasting heavily with the pale skin. Gintoki touched her cold face and her lips formed words he couldn't hear. He leaned closer to understand them.

But he never needed to hear them. He knew them and he himself couldn't say them.

He cried.

Their lips met

and Tsukuyo cried her last tear.

Before he grasped what had happened, the scenery changed quickly.

A sunny day, a cup of sake in his hand, wooden railing under his finger, the smell of tobacco in his nose, a balcony in a familiar underground district.

He turned his head and saw her smile. Her beautiful smile.

Whether it's spring or winter, if I can be next to you like this once in a while and blowing poison gas in your face, that's enough to make me happy.

The way she looked at you. She loved you and it was killing her. And you were never able to reciprocate it.

Drenched in sweat, struggling for air, his left hand clawing a pole, stars dancing over his vision, his eyes focused on his strained limb.

The long gone strand of silky, olive blonde hair on his ring finger blazed his flesh.

It burned his skin crisp like an insect lost on a summer heated street.

It easily set his arm on fire like the small, unimportant dry twigs in a fire pit, spreading to his heart, causing an unbearable pain with every muscle contraction.

She had tied it on his ring finger herself. She deliberately chose to tie it there. Carefully placing the loops, lovingly knotting it.

A quick glance and he knew it.

She meant it.

He thought about all those things time and time again and still denied it.

Nothing else belonged there. No one was allowed to touch him there. Only her hair.

The promise they made to each other.

Don't die

The promise he made to her.

Yubikiri Genman

Gintoki tied his own strand of cursed white hair on her pinkie, knowingly, making the lovers promise. To her. Only her. Only her.

うそつ���たら uso tsuitara (if you say a lie)

I'll never leave you.

針千本飲ます hari senbon nomasu (I'll let you swallow a thousand needles)

I'm eternally yours.

指切った。 yubi kitta. (and) cut (my) finger.

She tied it on his ring finger... his ring finger. His ring finger.

And I broke the promise.

His soul died when he left Edo.

I broke the promise.

I left her.

You don't love her. You're alone. You just don't want to be alone. Stay away from her. She just makes you feel better about your miserable life, you don't love her.

Because you don't destroy people you love.

Gintokis body revolted. Leaned onto the lantern, he threw up. It felt to him like throwing up his long-lost dreams, throwing up his hope and throwing up his reasons to keep going. He had left all of those things in Edo anyways.

His shaking hands reached out, grasping for support. But there was no one to help.

No one to hold onto.

No one to aid him.

Even if she was there to carry him, his blood covered hand were in no right to reach out for her tender fingers. Reaching out for someone's hand is coming close to reaching out for their soul. Tsukuyos soul was so clean and pure, touching her would only corrupt it and doom her endlessly.

What happens if you constantly hurt someone?

They love you less. After a while they start to forget that they loved you at all.

I hope she's happy.

Happy without me.

I hope she didn't suffer.

You know she suffered and it's your fault.

It's all your fault.

Your fault.

His legs gave in and his back collided with the hard soil.

Somedays it's not worth trying

Crashing to the ground, his only line of sight that was left, was the deep night sky.

And there she was again.

The moon.

Above him, shining on him, taunting him, scaring him, mourning with him.

His ears caught the sounds of a small squad of men, probably the same ones he picked a fight with earlier that gruesome evening.

"He's totally wasted, easy target for us" He heard them mumble. The first face obstructed his fixation on the moon. A primal wrath began to rush through his veins, he hadn't sensed this instinct for a long time, wondering how his body still remembered this sensation.

Don't obstruct my sight.

Flooded with pure fury, the Shiroyasha watched them take their next move.

And they scrambled in fear.

Once again, the heavenly body brushed his silver hair, bathing him in silver light again, illuminating the tears rolling down his face.

Crimson eyes stared directly at the moon, battling for dominance with an inanimate object.

It was soothing. It was reassuring. It was like a silent pact.

He wasn't afraid of the moon anymore and what was to come.

It's worth trying.

The broken samurai dragged himself to his feet, in his new-found purpose of collecting the parts of his soul and body he had believed as lost. They were never lost, he just left them with someone. Someone who was so important to him, he couldn't form it into words.

Gintoki slowly stumbled his way back to this rotten town.

She had his heart.

Reality could only keep him away from her for so long.

Somedays it is worth trying.

Now that they both are finding

Tsukuyo.. I'm coming..wait for me

She gets so sick of crying

He's coming back, I believe in him. I want to tell him the things he missed, when he comes back.

The footsteps in front of her door stopped.

Hinowa.. please..

.. I don't want to talk.

She's an Extraordinary Girl

[moonbeambucky]

Safe

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 4878 Warnings: fluff, angst, attempted sexual assault 

Summary: The ride home turns dangerous until you find safety with an unlikely stranger.

A/N: This is my submission for @beckzorz Becca’s 1k Writing Challenge. My prompt was Public Transportation. Thank you as always to my Sam 💕 @buckyofthemyscira for beta reading! gif not mine

Routines have become a healthy part of Bucky Barnes’ life. Not to say his routines are really healthy but he tries. When Bucky’s not on a mission his day is executed the same way; get up, hit the gym, ignore Sam’s bullshit, hit the kitchen, hit the showers, ignore more of Sam’s bullshit, train a bit, hit the kitchen again, clean his guns, threaten Sam with his newly cleaned guns, attempt to learn about modern day media (What’s a mee-mee?), give up and read a book because thankfully those haven’t changed, hit the kitchen again because truthfully he loves eating and finally after getting into his final squabble with Sam he gets in bed.

Bucky doesn’t sleep though, he wants to but he can’t. He doesn’t understand how people can just lay their head on their pillow, shut their eyes and fall asleep. It seems simple and he used to be able to do it but now it would be like asking him to magically transform his metal arm back to flesh. He just can’t.

It’s frustrating. The bags under his eyes have happily settled in, Sam has reminded him over and over again that he looks like shit and even Steve has started to worry. All of these thoughts swirl in Bucky’s head, getting louder by the minute as he stares at the ceiling with eyes wide open.

Has that crack gotten bigger? Why is there a crack in the ceiling anyway? Does Stark know? Is Banner above me? Did Hulk make the crack? Will I wake up to Hulk falling through the ceiling?

Wake up. If only he could fall asleep.

After too many restless nights Bucky decided he’s heading out. He needs to get rid of this anxious energy and walking around the city seems like a good idea. He hadn’t seen much of it since, well since he’s been himself again after everything. There have been times he’s wanted to go out but the Avengers generate a lot of attention and Bucky hates the spotlight.

A dark shirt stretches across his frame and he slides his legs through the pair of jeans that were crumpled on his floor. His feet slide into well worn boots as he shrugs a leather jacket over himself. It’s warm on the streets of Manhattan, even in the middle of the night but he doesn’t mind. The leather is cool and comforting against his skin which always seems to run hot.

On Bucky’s first night out he walked a dozen miles and along the way he found a bar. It was full of people that didn’t know who he was nor did they want to know him. Bodies hunched over, deep set wrinkled mouths sag even further pulling their lips down to a tired frown. They wanted to be left alone and relatably Bucky obliges.

He ordered a drink, savoring the taste as he sat for a bit, listening to music he’s pretty familiar with thanks to Tony. Bucky had heard enough disco courtesy of Steve’s “must do” list, seeking out the sounds of heavy drums and electric guitars coming from Tony’s lab instead. Music brought them closer and although there is a long way to go before they can call each other friends at least their journey will be filled with a great soundtrack.

He walks a bit more until he reaches Lower Manhattan, looking off at the blur that was the Statue of Liberty in the far distance, barely visible through the fog. It’s late and Bucky should be getting back. He feels a bit lazy and doesn’t want to walk all the way back to the Tower.

Descending the damp stairs, Bucky heads into the subway. The turnstiles block his entry to the platform. No one is around and he could easily jump over them but he knows there are cameras and the last thing he wants is to add another charge to the list of crimes he’s committed, especially one as silly as fare evasion.

His finger presses at the screen to purchase a MetroCard that allows him to legally pass through the turnstiles. A few people are spread out across the platform, a young couple smiling at each other as the taller man wraps his arms around the shorter one.

A flash of bright blue catches his eyes from the nurse who shifts the weight of her aching feet back and forth. Despite her earbuds she glances over when the couple burst out laughing. The shorter man shushes his boyfriend playfully, and when they catch Bucky’s eye he gives a friendly smile.

Wind from the arriving train whips Bucky’s hair around which he tries to comb back into place with his fingers. There is a downside to being enhanced as Bucky gets an intense whiff of the foul smelling man passed out on the opposite end of the train.

He passes through to the next train, sniffing a few times to ensure the air quality before sitting in the corner. The ride is pleasant and somehow comforting. By the time Bucky gets back to the Tower he barely takes his clothes off before plopping face first into his bed and sleeping for a few good hours.

This routine continues each night, with Bucky riding the subway for a few hours at a time, back and forth all over Manhattan until the point where he’s lulled just enough to get some rest. Sure sleeping until noon might be a problem, especially if there’s a mission on the horizon but on the bright side he’s seeing less of Sam so this may not be a problem at all.

Moving to New York was Y/N’s dream. While submitting applications for law school she imagined herself sitting in a cafe in the heart of the city, laptop and books sprawled out on the table with a delicious cup of coffee warming her hands as she studied. When she got accepted she eagerly packed her things and couldn’t wait for her dreams to come true.

There were struggles along the way. A glitch in the system caused her to miss out on the already limited student housing and the list of affordable student rentals off campus had no availability. The small amount of money she had in savings served as a cushion for her to get a room rental.

During the day she went to school, at night she worked at a bar and every moment in between she studied until she could barely see, all while pushing the boundaries on caffeine consumption and sleep deprivation. It was worth it though she reminded herself.

She was in her last year of school and soon she’d be living in a real apartment and sleep normal hours in a bed; not facedown drooling on the desk of the library, not on the subway with her head rolling forward and jolting her awake and certainly not standing up behind the bar during work while patrons called for her attention. (She was nearly fired over that!)

Y/N no longer falls asleep on the subway, especially not when she’s headed home in the middle of the night. Sure it would be easier to take an Uber but she can’t afford the cost. Instead she sits in the corner at the end, right across from the conductor booth. Occasionally an MTA worker will pop out and either give a nod her way or ignore her completely as they go to the booth on the opposite end of the train to prepare themselves for the next stop.

Her seat is usually available at this hour which is comforting. Y/N feels safer with her back against the metal wall, with the exits right beside her as she overlooks the rest of the train. She’s on alert at all times, armed with her keys in between her knuckles, just in case.

Riding the subway during the day is a lot better. Sure it’s very crowded and sometimes she struggles to find a seat, occasionally squeezing to a spot in between manspreaders who touch her thigh, by accident. Other times she’s stuck in between a huge group of people, holding on to the pole for balance as someone else gropes her ass, not by accident.

It’s much easier to call out these perverts when the train is crowded; she feels safe. Other people have her back, just as she has theirs in similar situations; everyone working together to scream and sometimes push the pervert off the train at the next stop. Occurrences like these were definitely not part of Y/N’s dreams when she pictured living in New York, but she can’t blame her dreams for the faults of others.

Y/N walked to her preferred spot, the bright orange seat welcoming her under the yellow tinged lighting. At the opposite end of the train is someone else in the same spot. Arms crossed over a broad frame, the hood of a sweatshirt pulled down covering almost their entire face with just a peek of stubble sticking out. She places her keys between her knuckles, keeping her hand in the front pocket of her hoodie and waits for the long journey home to begin.

A few stops later two men get on the train, one is tall and slim with a shaved head and the other a bit shorter with a stocky build and a mess of dark hair. She stiffens in her seat watching as they sit diagonally to her, skipping a seat in between each other and spreading their legs out wide. The bald one leans his head back as he rubs his eyes, listening as the other one turned his head to speak.

The jagged end of the keys scratch in between her fingers as she grips them tighter, watching carefully as the one with dark hair gets up and crosses towards her, eyeing the subway map to her right. Y/N doesn’t make any eye contact with him but she still sees his frame standing there from the corner of her eye. She flinches as he shouts unexpectedly at the rough and shaky ride, swallowing a nervous lump she holds her breath until he sits back down next to his friend, except he doesn’t.

He walks to the door at the end of the train right in front of her and stares through to the next train. Is he looking for someone? Will he pass through? No. He leans against the conductor booth standing two feet away from Y/N, jutting his hips out a bit that are unfortunately at her eye level.

She ignores him, looking towards the rest of the train seeing his friend, now wide-eyed and smirking. Whatever game they’re playing Y/N wants no part of, she just wants to go home.

From the corner of Y/N’s eyes she sees the man in front of her moving his arm. Cautiously she looks, regretting what she sees. He’s rubbing himself through his jeans, eyeing her like she’s a piece of meat.

Y/N looks back to the bald man, his legs are spread even wider, with his hands down his pants. He blows a sickening kiss her way as he twists his wrist up showing the very tip of his erection at the top of his pants.

The man in front of her moans as his own hands travel inside his pants as he starts to rub himself harder.

Panic floods Y/N’s veins, rushing through like a coursing river, drowning her in fear. She’s alone. She’s alone with two men, no– two monsters, who could easily overpower her. She’s alone on this train. The conductor booths are empty, the sleeping man is still asleep and even if she called out to him would he care? Would he help or would he join this group of demons and think with his primitive, carnal brain?

It was humiliating to sit there, knowing what they were doing as she did nothing. The keys between her fingers turned to jelly. She couldn’t fight them, she couldn’t stand up for herself and she hates it. Y/N hates every minute she sits there in silence, wishing she had the help of strangers crowding around her to support the verbal lashing she would give them. Y/N hates that she has to rely on safety in numbers, that she can’t even speak up to stop this.

The train slows down as it approaches the next stop and Y/N decides she’s getting off before they do. She calms her nerves, shifting slightly in the seat so she can briskly leave the train, hoping above all that there are other people on the platform.

An automated voice informs arrival at the station and as soon as the doors open Y/N gets up without looking back.

The platform is empty, not that she expected a crowd but even one person would make her feel more at ease. She heads towards the nearest set of stairs, walking faster as she now hears voices behind her.

Y/N knows it’s them. She feels it in her gut, the sickening feeling, her stomach twisting into uneasy knots at the threat behind her. She doesn’t dare look, she can’t slow herself down in any way.

“Where’re ya going sweetheart? We just wanna talk.”

Y/N moves faster up the second set of stairs. She’ll be safe as long as she stays ahead of them. If she gets to the street she can pop into a deli or a bar, anywhere where there are people, where she’ll be safe.

“Get back here bitch!”

They stampede behind her like wild animals, chasing after their prey. Y/N’s panting, rushing up the remainder of steps, her eyes filling with hope as she sees the metal turnstiles to exit. She’s nearly there but hope is pulled away. They’ve caught up to her, one of them grabbing her leg.

Y/N collapses against the stairs, her arm stinging at the pain of how she landed but she doesn't care. Her keys clang as they drop from her hands.

They’ve got her, pulling her up by the loops of her jeans and back towards them, arms wrapping tightly around her waist. Her skin crawls as she feels the press of his hardness against her but she doesn’t stop fighting.

Her arms try to break the hold, her legs kick wildly as she’s dragged back towards the landing trying to break free. Her cheek collides with the cold tile as they slam her against the wall, holding her arms back so she couldn’t move.

They’re laughing. Y/N doesn’t need to see them to know there’s a smile spread across their faces. They’re enjoying this, enjoying her pain as she bites back a sob.

Tears burn their way to her eyes as she hears a zipper being pulled down, buzzing like a bee in her ear. She braces herself for the sting.

A cry of agony echoes in the stairwell but it’s not hers. The bald man was charged at; a stranger came towards him like a bull, fierce and focused as he speared him down. The other man behind Y/N let go of her arms, quickly pulling his pants up so he could fight.

She moves away with her back pressed against the wall watching the scene unfold like an action movie come to life.

Long, dark hair blankets the face of the man who came to her rescue, who shoves her assailant face first into the wall. Tiles shatter as he crumples to the ground unconscious.

The bald man groaned as he got up, pulling a small knife from his pants but the stranger dodges the poor attempt at an attack. Quickly he disarms the man, retrieves the knife for himself with an expert flick of his wrist, flipping the blade midair to catch it again by the hilt.

He forces the man to the wall with his left forearm, cutting off oxygen as he leans in with extra pressure.

“Think you're so tough, huh? You don't look so tough now," the long haired man snarled, threatening the man’s eye with the blade.  

He gasps for breath, begging for his life through fear laden eyes that reveal a deeper truth, he’s a coward. The long haired man knocks him out with a nose shattering punch.

The stranger takes a breath, calming his nerves that were electrified the moment he realized the girl was in trouble. She’s still behind him, he can hear the fast rhythm of her heart, the shakiness of her breathing.

He turns slowly to face her, his heart breaking at the small abrasion on her cheek. He saved her but he wasn’t fast enough, they had still hurt her.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, keeping his distance because there was no way he was going to force himself into her personal space after what happened.

Y/N was frozen against the wall, wary of the man in front of her. She should be thankful he stopped her attackers but the way he did it… he was dangerous and she’s not sure if she should trust a dangerous man.

She stares him down, her eyes following the curve of obvious muscle even through the thick sweatshirt down to his hands, one tainted red, dripping blood that is not his own, the other a dark metal.

Her brows furrow as her eyes travel upwards to his face confirming his identity. Ocean blue eyes that hold more than a lifetime of memories, good and bad, a soft smile, just a hint pulling at his bright pink lips that stand out against dark stubble.

Y/N’s eyes widen in further recognition. The man who saved her, Bucky Barnes, an actual Avenger was the sleeping man from the train.

“You…” she said, unable to articulate herself further, not when she thought about everything; what almost happened, what did happen. “You were on the train.”

Y/N glances at her superhero savior. She had seen firsthand a small glimpse of his strength and yet he stands before her looking anything but. His shoulders are slumped down, his head hangs low as sadness swims around the deep blue pools of his eyes.

Bucky was her hero but he definitely didn’t feel super.

He was on the train and he could have stopped this sooner if he hadn’t fallen asleep. Bucky’s train rides gave him enough comfort to rest when he was home but never before has he let his guard down like this and fallen asleep in a public place.

The guilt eats away at him and he lets it, offering every part of his aching soul willingly. If he was awake this wouldn’t have happened. He would have tackled these guys to the ground a lot sooner. She would have been safe.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, staring at her shamefully. “It shouldn’t have come to this.”

“Don’t.” Y/N takes a step closer to him, “You’re not responsible for what they did.” She glances briefly behind him, checking that the men were still knocked out. “Thank you Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky smiled softly, “It’s Bucky, and you’re welcome...” he quirked his head, wordlessly asking for her name. “You’re safe now Y/N,” he promised.

Pulling his phone out Bucky places a call, following protocol in the event an Avenger was involved in a civilian altercation. He panics when he turns around not seeing Y/N anywhere until she reappears, taking slow, measured steps down the stairs, still wary of the men on the ground.

“My keys,” she said, holding them up to him; a simple explanation as she had gone to retrieve them but the thought of her disappearing still worried him. Sure there were statements to give but Bucky cared more about her state of mind, knowing this type of situation can have a long lasting impact.

Bucky explained SHIELD would be coming to process the scene, assuring her things would be handled more efficiently than the NYPD.

“You’ll just need to give your statement once and everything will be handled. Pressing charges and all of that… it’s a lot easier ‘cause I got involved.”

The words leave a bitter taste on Bucky’s tongue; the fact that Y/N would get justice easily only because of his involvement. She won’t have to worry about being questioned as to why this happened, as if anything she did or the clothes she wore would ever be justification for this to happen. It’s not, not to her or anyone.

SHIELD arrives quickly after, beginning to take photographs before they handcuff the men. Bucky doesn’t leave Y/N’s side as she details the full encounter, his stomach twisting at what those sick fucks did all while he was asleep. He bites his tongue, swallowing his anger. This isn’t about him.

Incredibly things have cleaned up quickly, the only evidence of anything happening was the cracked subway tile. An agent approaches Y/N asking if she would like a ride home. She wants to trust them but she can’t bring herself to.

Bucky sees the apprehension in her eyes. “If it’s alright with Y/N,” he began, looking at her so she understood he knew what she was thinking, “I’d like to personally make sure that she gets home safely.”

Y/N nodded as she looked between the Agent and Bucky, her lips pulling in the faintest smile as she stared at the man she felt safest with.

They were alone again, standing in the silence of the stairwell. Y/N doesn’t know what to say. Bucky’s supposed to be taking her home but the thought of being alone terrifies her. Sure she has roommates and everyone is friendly with each other but they aren’t really friends. They’re not the type you wake up in the middle of the night to tell about your assault on the train and rescue by an Avenger.

Actually they might think the last part is pretty cool but Y/N would much rather be saved by an Avenger for something mundane. The Falcon could save her from a wild cyclist or maybe Iron Man could scan her yogurt and prevent her from eating it past the expiration date, or Bucky… Well, she can’t lie to herself, it’s definitely nice being around him, even if the circumstances were awful.

“I don’t want to go home,” she finally blurted out, her words echoing throughout the empty stairwell.

Bucky understands. He’s had seventy years of suffering he’s still dealing with, the reason for even being out in the middle of the night. He hates knowing sleep will escape her too, that she will beg her brain to turn off but instead it will force her to relieve the trauma.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, happy to see her nodding without hesitation.

They ascend to the street, feeling the cool wind refreshing their skin. The sky is just beginning to lighten, with the darkest, deepest blues retreating, breaking away to give the smallest hint of an orange glow in the distance.

Together they walk silently, with Y/N leaning close to Bucky, bumping into him every now and then but he doesn’t mind; she needs to feel him beside her and he kind of likes it.

“Where were you coming from?” he asked, breaking the silence.

She explained her schedule of school and work, and Bucky wonders if he’s ever been in her bar during one of his midnight strolls. He doubts it, he would have remembered her. He thinks to himself that taking the trains in the middle of the night isn’t safe. No shit Barnes, look at what happened. Instead he asks if she considered taking a taxi home.

“I wish!” she laughed. “They’re too expensive, even Uber. I’m struggling enough as it is.”

Money is a luxury Bucky hasn’t had to think about. Sure when he was younger he started working to help his folks, taking a newspaper route with Steve, working twice as hard that winter when his friend was stuck in the house with pneumonia. Now he doesn’t worry about anything. He has a home, two homes technically, not that he’s been to the compound in a while. Food is always stocked in the fridge and he’s never worried about it running out. Money is just available to him if he needs to buy clothes or the childhood candies he likes to occasionally treat himself to.

Bucky apologizes but Y/N ensures him there’s nothing to apologize for. He may live a luxurious life now but she would not trade her path for his.

A small bodega is the only store open for blocks so they stop in, greeted by a grey and white cat sleeping across the newspaper rack. Colorful packages of candy and chips surround the register, the junk food seems very tempting but before she can pick something out Bucky confirms if it’s alright to place an order for coffee and sandwiches. He pays but can’t leave until the man behind the counter takes a picture with him, excited to have a real “Vengador” visit his store.

They walk two more quick blocks until they reach Battery Park, strolling through the paths until they find the perfect bench to sit on. The coffee is still nice and hot, and the bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches are possibly the greatest thing they’ve ever eaten. A much better choice than the junk she would have chosen.

Napkins sop up the gooey cheesy from the corner of her mouth as Y/N makes conversation. “What were you doing on the train anyway?”

Bucky swallows a mouthful. “Helps me sleep,” he answered, looking at her with big, innocent eyes.

“Like a baby? In a car?”

Bucky nods, “Yeah, somethin’ like that.” He felt embarrassed until he saw a genuine smile pulling at Y/N’s lips as she brought the coffee to her lips.

“When do you finish school?” he asked, wanting to know more about her.

“I’m in my last year, then it’s study for the Bar, hope I pass and then I won’t need to risk my life every night on the subway. I’ll just go back to the daytime groping.”

Bucky stops himself from taking a bite, putting his sandwich back down on the paper in his lap. He shifts himself to turn towards Y/N, “You shouldn’t have to deal with that. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. Not everyone is as kind as you, then again you’re from a different time.”

Bucky shakes his head. “The time has nothing to do with it, pigs will be pigs. During the war my sister Rebecca went to work. She wrote to me saying how she had to quit because her boss was putting his hands on her. That’s what they taught her back then. Well I’ll tell you, Becca didn’t quit without sockin’ him right in the eye!”

Y/N likes the way Bucky’s face lights up like the sun while reminiscing about his sister. Bucky likes the way she laughs at his story, how a smile suits her face so much more than the anguish he first saw on her.

“It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay after this.” His eyes are determined in that truth and Y/N smiles, wanting to believe him.

They finish their food and sip coffee as people pass them by to jog along the water. Despite the caffeine Y/N covers her mouth as she yawns but Bucky is wide awake, thanks to the coffee and the early morning ass kicking. He supposes she’ll need to go home soon but the thought that she’ll have to repeat this subway routine again tonight makes him uneasy.

“I wouldn’t mind making sure you get home safe every night,” he said, breaking the soft silence between them. “Since I’m up anyway.”

Her lips pull to a short lived smile. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. As long as I’m here, not on a mission or something, I really don’t mind.” Bucky smiled sincerely, and Y/N saw nothing but truth in his sweet blue eyes. “We could take the train… together?” he suggested, “or I could drive you home.”

Y/N chewed on her lip as she examined the hopeful look on Bucky’s face, patiently waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know… Should I really trust a sleep deprived old man?”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open at her words as she graced his ears with the sweet sound of her laughter. Still, he shook his head in disbelief.

“That’s… that was cold. You been talking to Falcon behind my back or something?” he joked.

“Fine, I will accept your offer of driving.” Y/N yawns again, leaning her head against Bucky’s shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll be taking public transportation at night for a while.”

He’s happy, not that she is avoiding the subway because it shouldn’t have to come to that but because he knows she’ll be getting home safe each night with him.

“Where do you live anyway?” Bucky questioned. “I should have asked this before offering. Hope I haven’t committed myself to driving to Jersey or something,” he scoffed jokingly.

“Brooklyn.”

Bucky smiles, his heart swells like a balloon and he feels like he needs to grip the bench so he doesn’t float away.

“Brooklyn it is.”

They sit for a while longer, putting the long night behind them as the sun rises on a new day.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated :)

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[sabineelectricheart]

A Wife of His Own

Summary: Dimitri is concerned about the changes in his marriage if he ever had a child.

Rating: MA - Content is only suitable for mature adults. May contain explicit language and adult themes.

Graphic depictions of marital infidelity, prostitution and dubious consent. Reader discretion is highly advised.

Words: 3500

Notes: I noticed yesternight I never put out any angst or dark fics about Dimitri. I may have overcorrected.

"Oh, oh yes, Dima! Come inside me, please!" Byleth begged, clutching at his shoulders hard enough to leave two rows of red crescents behind.

He tried to hold out longer, but it was building fast, too fast. He loved her so much, he would often lose control, but not tonight. Not now. He would comply with her, eventually, as he always did, but he did not want this.

In the end, he was just weak.

*_*_*_*_*

It was not unplanned, not precisely.

Such a thing would be an eventuality, it was absolutely necessary for the good of the Kingdom, Dimitri just had to be goaded into it. Honestly, he would have preferred to pick up any of his bastard cousins from the slums, any who carried the Crest of Blaiddyd. Perhaps his wife would be amendable to it, but then she would want to bring them all to the Castle, and that would defeat his purpose.

No, he would have discreetly selected a child from the fold and say it was his own, from the days she spent in slumber. If none were suitable, he would conceive one with a maid and call it a “moment of weakness”. She would be furious and sad, but he would wear her down eventually.

Officially, they had always intended to have children one day. It was only natural for a Royal Couple. They were young yet, not yet thirty, and there were still many years ahead of them to worry about that sort of thing, or so the court officials reasoned.

However, Dimitri knew very well that Byleth was growing impatient for a baby after three years of marriage. She longed for a family of her own, for a child to love and to care, and this was precisely why he tried to extricate himself from these marital duties.

As time passed them by and their friends had children of their own, her baby fever increased. She had even taken, most uncharacteristically, to cooing admiringly over peasant infants that came to the Castle and the Monastery with their mothers, though she always made a point of reminding him later how much cleverer and beautiful the children they would make together would be.

He had trouble not laughing at the idea. Dimitri thought all infants, regardless of their parentage, looked roughly the same, tiny and feeble and oddly crumpled, and certainly not clever. They created off-putting noises and odours and stains, not unlike filthy animals did on the forests, and they would always insist on bursting into tears whenever he tried to hold them.

Still, it was not as if he would be the one responsible for midnight feedings and diaper changes. They had nurses for this very thing, and if his wife insisted on breastfeeding the little demon, then she would be the one waking up. A nuisance, but he could potentially bear it for her happiness. Besides, patience with their fruitless union was growing thin and they needed a child to carry on the noble Blaiddyd name.

So, eventually, he had given Byleth his consent to stop taking her contraceptive tea, and they would let nature take its course. He began his search of the slums for a particularly strong and healthy ten-year-old, and to scout the maids and court ladies for an appropriate mother.

While his scouting wielded no results, Dimitri staved off the Archbishop. He became unusually interested in anal sex, an aficionado of blowjobs, expert at pulling out just in the nick of time. One morning when he drew back and spurted onto his wife’s breasts, she unexpectedly burst into tears.

"It seems like you do not even want a child!" She shrieked, wrapping herself in the bed linens and rolling as far away from him as she could possibly get.

He tried to comfort her, insisting he had not meant anything by it, but she had an all-encompassing gloomy and cold demeanour for days on end. She moved out to the Queen’s chambers from the stately apartments they once shared, and their once joyful relationship became more barren than the tundra in Sreng.

It would be an arduous task to assure her of his love and commitment, and Dimitri knew that, when she finally deigned to return to their bed, he would have to do his duty, no more messing about.

No more messing about.

That was what it came down to, really. Having a baby would mean no more messing about in bed until noon, no more freedom to drop everything and warp away to Deirdriu for a romantic getaway, no more having Byleth all to himself, whenever he wanted her. He was, in essence, being asked to produce a tiny rival for his wife's affections, and this simply would not do.

He loathed the unconceived bastard, and he dearly wished she would loathe it, too. If she regretted being a mother, he would be only too glad to find a way out of the situation. Many nobles sent their children to a preceptor abroad, and he knew there were many a family who would bend over backwards to have the heir to Fódlan in their household.

On some level, Byleth seemed to recognize that his infuriating reticence was not completely under his control. The night she finally forgave him for his ejaculatory faux pas, she also plied him with a bottle of excellent wine, dry and white, just the way he liked it. When she stripped off her dressing gown and revealed a lacy negligée so thin that he could almost, but not quite, see through it, he stiffened immediately to attention. She smiled seductively as she straddled his lap, then pressed him back into the chair with a long, lingering kiss, gripping him hard by the wrists. In the moment before he knew what was going on or which way was up, she had tied his hands behind his back with the silken belt from her robe.

He struggled, but only slightly. "Beloved, ah…"

"Do not worry, my love." She cut him off. "I will take care of everything."

The Archbishop followed through with her promise. She carefully unfastened his armour and untangled his tunic, pushing his garments open to reveal marred, pale skin, then ran her hands down his body to work on his trousers. She lovingly drew out his cock, caressing its length, and then, without a further word, lowered herself onto him in one smooth motion.

Dimitri gasped, longing to push that delicate slip up and cup her breasts, but had to confine himself to lifting his hips slightly to meet her.

Byleth was more aggressive than usual, kissing him as though she wanted to devour him, nipping his lower lip until it was red and swollen, and for a moment he had uncomfortable thoughts of certain insect species who bite their males' heads off after mating. The hot, slick grip of her around him soon drove all such alarming visions from his mind, though.

"Yes." The green-haired minx kept moaning as she rode him. "Yes, yes, that is it, Your Majesty."

She rode him all the while digging her fingers into his shoulders hard enough to bruise. The slight edge of pain made it the more delicious, and soon he was only a few heartbeats away from his climax.

"Come inside me, Dima." She murmured against his ear, and sucked the soft flesh of its lobe between her perfect pink lips. "Make a baby with me!"

As she bit down, he arched up beneath her and came with a violent cry, pulsing into her over and over again. She stayed there, head resting on his shoulder, until he was finished, and then blew the candle lighting the room and closed her eyes, wanting for some sleep.

"Byleth, beloved…?" He called, hopeful but still bound.

"I am not sad anymore, but I am rather angry." She replied. "I will have a maid untie you in the morning. If you feel your shoulder screaming, do it yourself, it is only silk. Now, stay put, as I missed sleeping to your heartbeat."

As much as Dimitri also wanted to indulge on her request, he is king and having a maid seeing him bound to a silk tie on the bedpost was not a good look to present.

He managed to get himself free without moving his wife a few hours before dawn, fortunately for his remaining dignity. The older maids, who served under Rufus, had surely seen more peculiar things in their day, but he still did not relish the thought of asking one for aid, all on the while he was still half-naked and sticky from sex.

*_*_*_*_*

If he would thought about it much, a few Moons ago, Dimitri would have expected to be put off by the changes to Byleth's body, but, as it turned out, the very opposite was true.

He was fascinated by the way her breasts swelled, nipples darkening from pale pink to brown. Byleth bought some sort of rose-scented ointment from the apothecary that was supposed to prevent stretch marks, but Dimitri spent more time rubbing it on her growing belly than she did herself. Even the smell of her, the taste of her on his tongue, changed, becoming stronger, more feral.

If he even needed something to sweeten the deal, pregnancy made Byleth more lascivious, at least at first. He would come back late from a meeting with the nobles, slip into bed trying not to wake her, only to have her wake him up in the middle of the night by slyly stroking his cock or sucking it, soft and heavy, between her lips, urging it to full size before he had finished blinking away the sleep from his eyes.

Once, she even persuaded him to fuck her while they were out shopping for Saint Seiros Day presents in town, pulling him into a darkened gap between two buildings and lifting her skirts despite the chill in the air. As Dimitri slammed into his wife from behind, her palms pressed against a grimy brick wall that she would never dream of touching under normal circumstances, he half-dreaded, half-savoured the idea of being caught. In the end, though, he clamped a hand tight over her mouth when she came, muffling her scream, and managed to keep himself silent through sheer force of will. They walked away afterwards with what poise they could muster on shaky legs, and she leaned on his arm, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and unalloyed adoration.

As winter ripened into spring, and their child did the same within her, sex became more difficult, but they rose to the challenge, finding positions that were bearable for her aching back and heavy belly. He learned to appreciate lying side-by-side with her, her back pressed to his stomach, helping lift her thigh just enough to give him entrance, both of them laughing between gasps at how ridiculous they must look.

He loved to suckle her swollen breasts, teasing those remarkable nipples between his lips. Only once did she dare joke that soon he would have to share them with the baby. The cold stare he gave her was enough to put an end to that.

As the birth drew closer, the worries Dimitri had managed to suppress began to surface once more, now compounded by the immediacy of the thing. One night, he dreamed that he was fucking Byleth until realized that she was actually his stepmother, which jolted him from sleep in a cold sweat. He dreaded the arrival of this little invader who would so disrupt their lives, the broken sleep, the noise, the bodily fluids everywhere…

He would never have admitted that he was afraid of the responsibility that came with fatherhood, afraid that perhaps his child would be a disappointment, or, more pointedly, that he would be a disappointment, and yet the unwanted fears persisted.

In response, he grew sullener and more withdrawn as her due date approached, retreating into his study or ensuring that his meetings with his bannermen and the nobility would take him away from the capital. His friends laughed, even as they warned him her sister would think he was having an affair, but he paid her no mind.

Dimitri was not home when their son was born. The night before, Byleth had complained that her back was hurting, but since her back seemed to hurt all the time these days, he paid her little heed. The next morning, she told him she was feeling better, just weary, and encouraged him to go ahead with his plans for the day.

"I will be fine." She told him with a wavering smile. “The baby and I are in good hands.”

He was not asking about the damn leech, but he made no comment either way.

As it often was, his duties for the day had him running all around the Tailtean Plains. His plans included a meeting with a promising junior overseer, at the conclusion of which chat he promised her some extra gold coins for improvement on the road to a windmill in her lot, followed by a friendly visit to a bandit group nestled near the border with Itha, who turned out to be rather more resourceful than he had expected. What was supposed to be a simple interrogation turned into an exhilarating chase along the canal and ended with a body left hanging from the bridge over the border river as a warning to others.

As such, it was much later than expected when he arrived back at the Castle, and by then all of the excitement was over. The midwife was already packing up her bag, but she took the time to tell him that he had a healthy baby boy before she departed.

Byleth and the baby were resting. He did not wish to disturb them, but he had to see the child. Little Adalbert, the name they had agreed on months before – Adalbert for a boy, Adelaide for a girl, was lying in the ornate cradle that had sheltered seven generations of tiny Blaiddyds.

The baby was sleeping so peacefully that Dimitri was seized with a sudden fear that he was not breathing. He laid a tentative hand on the tiny chest and felt it rise, felt the tiny heart flutter beneath his fingers, and was immensely, unexpectedly, relieved.

"He's perfect." He said, half to himself.

Byleth stirred with the noise.

"Where were you?" She asked him, keeping her voice low so as not to wake the baby.

"I was busy.” He excused himself. “Things took longer than anticipated."

Her mint-green eyes were ringed with red, from exhaustion or weeping he could not tell.

"You should have been here." Was all she said, accusing him with her icy gaze.

*_*_*_*_*

Dimitri knew it would take Byleth some time to recover from the delivery, which had apparently been very hard on her, but his heart could not deal with this situation any longer.

She turned inward during those first months, utterly focused on the baby, and everything he had dreaded came to pass. He was locked out of his wife’s life, as it was often the case with aristocratic couples in Fódlan, and he absolutely loathed this situation. The first time he tried to touch her breast after the birth, she slapped his hand away, and though she apologized afterwards, telling him they were just sore, he could not help but take it to heart.

Byleth and Adalbert were in their own little world, and he did not know how to join them there. He buried himself in his work, and when that failed to entertain him long enough, Felix would come around with a sword or Sylvain with a tankard of ale. Neither particularly healthy coping mechanisms.

Six months passed without more than a kiss passing between husband and wife, and Dimitri struggled mightily with himself before finally giving in. The Northern Thistle, by the Harbour Gate, was a place he had not visited since before he was married, before even the war, in fact.

It had not changed much since Rodrigue brought him, Felix and Sylvain to taste their first women, but he had heard, in graphic detail, from his redhead friend that they had a new acquisition. A woman from Albinea, who could change her physical appearance with magic. It would cost him a thousand gold coins, but, he was assured, it would be well worth it.

She was skinny and short, with lank mouse-brown hair. Certainly not a thousand coins a night whore, at least on the surface. He did not ask for any personal information of the woman, not wanting to know the answer, for whatever she said, it would shame him. The name she used was clearly false, but her smile seemed genuine, not yet turned perfunctory by years of degradation.

"So, tell me what you want." She asked, loosely.

"Green hair." He began without any hesitation, certain of that much at least. "Taller and, uh, bigger..."

He gestured hopefully with both hands.

"Right, luv, I got the idea." She said, and changed before his eyes into a slutty bombshell who could have been an innkeeper in some of the neighbouring establishments.

"No!" He snapped, irrationally annoyed with her for not knowing precisely what he wanted, wishing he did not have to spell things out in such humiliating detail.

Besides, it was bad enough that he was breaking the marital vows he swore, to himself and the world, to upheld under whatever circumstance. He did not have to face this sad caricature of his beloved to feel sick about himself.

"More... Aristocratic. And I am not your 'luv'." Dimitri added coldly.

"More classy, less trashy?" She replied with an insolent wink that made him long to slap her into submission.

Her cheekbones rose, her nose straightened, and her lips curled into an arrogant pout. It was not Byleth, but it was close enough. He would not have wanted this slattern to look like her double, anyhow. It would have seemed wrong. Wronger.

"All set?" She asked, clearly growing impatient to get down to business.

"No. Not quite. Could you be… I mean, could you look, ahem, pregnant?" He had to struggle not to blush, to keep his face regal and haughty, even though she had no doubt heard stranger requests in her line of work.

"No problem." She said without so much as blinking, and he watched, perversely fascinated, as her belly swelled, months compressed into seconds. "Tell me when to stop."

"There, that's… That is good enough." He told her after she had reached what looked like the six-month stage.

The king was achingly hard, deprived as he had been. She drew him down onto the bed and he tried, for a little while, to recapture what he had lost. She moaned convincingly enough, and though she did not move like a woman who was truly pregnant, it was close enough for him to fool himself, at least for a little while. He left quickly when he had finished with her, not wanting to see her change back, preserving the fragile illusion as best as he could.

*_*_*_*_*

It was late when he arrived back at the Castle, but Byleth was awake nevertheless. Her silk dressing gown had a spit-up stain on the shoulder. She scrutinized him with suspicious eyes, but he held his chin up and casually told her he had been out inspecting the southern wall.

She might even have believed him, if it were not for the smell of the whore's perfume that still lingered about his hair when he kissed her goodnight.

Byleth was not a slow-witted woman. She was, after all, a goddess and the highest religious authority in the country. No dum-dum survived long in that position. She had to know what was at stake even if the precise details eluded her.

They did not discuss the matter, it would have been too painful for both of them, but the next day she engaged the services of a preceptress, a young woman from a respectable but unfortunately impoverished family, and then promptly went to her husband's study to suck him off, much to his surprise. He recognized the gesture for what it was – an apology without words – and he felt a renewed hope that perhaps everything might be all right after all.

When, not long afterward, Dimitri voiced his considered opinion that one child was probably sufficient, Byleth agreed immediately, suppressing any resentment she might have felt so ruthlessly that he later heard her proudly telling Mercedes it had been her own choice.

Once Adalbert decided to try and communicate like a proper human being, and clung less to his mother, Dimitri even began to feel quite affectionate toward the little fellow.

As things settled into a comfortable normal for him, Dimitri buried every memory of those Moons deep within himself. He had his wife to himself; it was all that matters.

*_*_*_*_*

Fire Emblem Masterlist

Three Houses Masterlist

[spideyy-girl]

Sober ~ Klaus Hargreeves (Non-Binary!Reader)

Request by @gravity-9-8: Klaus hargreeves x reader, please? Something cute and confessing their love?

Summary: Klaus finally realizes he’s madly in love with his best friend but is too sober to confess.

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Warnings: drinking, drug use, like two swear words or something 

Word Count: 1629 (4.6 pages)

Date: April 22, 2019

A/N: This took way too long! I’m very sorry, tumblr thought it would be fun to delete half the story like last week, so I had to rewrite it... yay. But I hope you like it, I thought it was pretty cute, but if you wanted something else, please tell me! Also, I thought I would write this as not gender specific, so it works for everyone reading this! Hope you all like it!

Y/N L/N has known the Hargreeve children for a long time, and would most definitely be considered their best friend. They were all very close when they were children, the kids of the Umbrella Academy immediately took a liking to them Y/N could recall many good memories on those Saturdays they were allowed to come to the Academy, even if the time they had together was limited to noon to half past noon, and they were only allowed to come over once a month.

But that was when they were children. That was many years ago.

It seems as if it has been a lifetime since they last saw the Umbrella Academy kids, most of them went their separate ways, trying to get away from their so-called father. And now, today, that father has died; which is why Y/N is now standing in the giant living room of the Academy, old memories rushing through their head as they walked down the dusted halls, looking at the disturbing yet all too familiar pictures of small children performing horrible acts of violence against each other. She peeked into the Hargreeves old rooms, checking to see if anyone else was in the building with them, but was shown no signs of any of the sibling. Ironically enough, they were apparently the first one there.

Admittedly, Y/N didn't want to come to the funeral. They never liked the man and he had always treated them horribly, constantly reminding them that they would never be as good as his 'children', and how Y/N doesn't deserve to even be in their presence. They had a reason to come here, and it wasn't to see the dead man's ashes fall blatantly to the ground. Their reason was a certain someone who always held a close place to their heart. 

"..Y/N?" a slightly slurred voice called out behind her as she wandered out of the kitchen. They turned around to meet with the slightly red eyes of said reason from before. Of course, this was none other than Y/N's truest best friend and very long term crush, Klaus Hargreeves.

"Well look who it is," Y/N said softly as they went up to Klaus, almost running into his arms. Klaus squeezed them tightly in his arms, lifting them from the ground just a little bit. "I missed you so much, Klausy."

"God, I missed you too," he whispered back into their hair, smiling as he feels them snuggling deeper into the crook of his neck. "You have no idea how boring life is without you! I don't even know how I'm alive with all the years we've been apart." Klaus jokes and Y/N lets out a giggle. They pull apart and Y/N couldn't help but stare at the gorgeous man in front of them, I mean, how could they not get lost in his perfect green eyes. Klaus was staring just as intently at Y/N, wondering how they seemed to become even more perfect through the years he hasn't seen them. The tender moment was broken by someone behind them clearing their throat. The two jumped apart, looking behind them to see Vanya Hargreeves.

"Vanya!!!!" Y/N exclaimed running towards the smaller woman and tightly embracing her, almost knocking her down in the process. Klaus watched on, with a small smile painted on his lips. Even though it's been so many years, they're just as he remembers them. And it's good, refreshing even, to see the childish glint in their eye. Klaus leaves to give Y/N and his other siblings their own time to reencounter, deciding that he would scavenge his father's office in look for money. After all, he was still spending the week with his siblings, he'll need a little something extra to deal with all that pent up angst between them.

The funeral was a giant mess, and that's as underexaggerated as you can get. It was terribly awkward, watching Luther tip over the vase holding his father's ashes, only for them to fall blatantly to the ground. Then, not unexpectedly, Luther and Diego got into a fight. Klaus dragged Y/N inside after seeing that Diego was throwing knives again.

Klaus still held onto Y/N's hand tightly, dragging them to the liquor room. He told them to take a seat on the chair in the middle of the room as he wandered over to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a rather large and completely full bottle of vodka, a glowing smile dancing across his face as he picked it up and kissed it, getting a cup and putting a reasonable amount in it, before ignoring it and taking a swig from the bottle.

"Whoo! You know I needed some of that." Klaus said as he cradles the bottle in his arms, walking over to his best friend and taking a seat down next to them, plopping his feet onto their lap. Y/N couldn't help but laugh at his actions, rolling their eyes and stealing the bottle from Klaus.

"Knowing you, Klaus, I think I should be taking this away before you get the chance to finish the whole bottle," Y/N teased, bringing the bottle to their lips to take a drink, only for the bottle to be snatched again by their counterpart. Klaus laughed at them.

"And knowing you, my lovely Y/N, I can never let you have another drink of alcohol or another joint again, after the last little incident," Klaus smirked at them, causing a red blush to paint their cheeks as they gasped and pushed his arm.

"Ok, that was only one time!! And it was my first time trying any of that stupid shit anyways." Y/N defended themself as they laughed along. "And besides, I was young, I've learned how to hold my liquor these past few years." 

"Oh, really?" Klaus questioned, sitting up and taking his feet of Y/N's lap, scooting closer to them. "Then prove it to me, I'd like to see how much you've changed." Y/N squinted their eyes, already laughing at their dumb competition.

"Oh it's on, Number Four," she said.

Not even half a bottle later, it turns out that Klaus's predictions were, in fact, correct. Y/N stood on the coffee table, singing their heart out to "I Think We're Alone Now", dancing in a horrible manner, but it was still entertaining to watch. Klaus looked on in amusement, a cup of very expensive whiskey in one hand and a joint in the other. He was still generally sober, but that was only because he didn't want to miss the show being given to him by the beautiful person dancing like a lunatic in front of him. He could only watch in awe as they jumped off the table and started spinning, still screaming the words.

Y/N realized that Klaus was still on the sidelines, watching them as they went crazy. They giggled, going up to him and finishing his whiskey for him before putting the glass down rather harshly and taking his hand. They dragged him to the middle of the room before starting to move again, a bit offbeat to the song. Klaus laughed and joined in, dancing around with the person he's harboured feelings for for years.

But wait. He's never really confessed that to himself before. Thinking back to it, he couldn't deny it. He felt it in the pit of his stomach whenever they were around, a simple smile of theirs could unleash butterflies in his stomach, and when they looked at him he felt like melting under their gaze. Y/N soon realizes that Klaus had stopped moving with her, looking at them in a way they couldn't describe. 

"Klausy?" Y/N called out his name, and his eyes widened as he shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He smiles lightly at them, walking over and grabbing their hand, pulling them close to him as he swayed along to the music. Y/N put their head on his chest, yawning.

"You starting to feel tired, my love?" Klaus asked, looking down at the gorgeous figure. They looked up at him, their eyes catching his stare. Y/N nodded, feeling the after-effects of the alcohol starting to come up on them. Their legs collapsed under them as they passed out, Klaus just barely catching their dead weight. He picked them up bridal style and walked up the stairs to his room, which proved increasingly hard with a sleeping Y/N in his arms. He kicked open his door and gently placed them in his bed, putting them in one of his shirts, which on them looked 5 times too big. After he changed into his own pyjamas, deciding it might be inappropriate wearing underwear with Y/N in the room.

He crawled into the single bed, Y/N snoring lightly beside him. Memories of their sleepovers when they were younger and Y/N would sneak in after midnight filled his head, making him smile as he looked over at them. He turned over and wrapped his arms around their waist. Y/N moved to sleep practically on top of him, placing their head on his shoulder as their hand held the shirt that covered his chest. Klaus gently kissed the top of their head.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered as he looked down at them, sleeping peacefully and undisturbed. Klaus sighed, before turning his head in a comfortable position and closing his tired eyes, trying to get some rest. But just before he dozed off, he heard a small but familiar voice say something in the dark. 

"I love you too, Klausy."

[triplefrontierstuff-blog]

When were you gonna tell me? - Will “Ironhead” Miller x OC - Part I

A/N: Okay, I got a little too excited with this, so don’t mind me for writing this bible. Really hope you all enjoy, though xx

Genre: Angst

Word count: 4063

Writer: Lari

A soft breeze blew on her face as Diana woke up, only to discover that it was actually Will's warm breath on her face.

"Good morning," he said, softly and drawn, the corner of his lips slightly arched in a trace of one of his beautiful smiles, taking small strands of hair gently out of her face. Diana gave him a sleepy smile, rolling over to caress his face. Will's blue eyes brought her a feeling that almost never overwhelmed her when she received it: the usual comfort, but also a sense of anxiety and worry in the pit of her stomach.

Something was wrong, and she barely remembered what as he came over and kissed her lips gently.

“Sleep well”, Will asked, and as she thought of an answer, she realized he was ready to leave.

"Perfectly," she lied. "And you?"

"Better than I deserve," he answered, giving her another kiss on the forehead. Will knew that Diana had been sleeping badly, not only for the way she'd been up all night in bed, but how restless she seemed in the first few minutes of the day. He’d been noticing her girlfriend's stress for a few days, but he also knew that post-graduation was being hard on her, especially since it was their first year living together and being away from the family was affecting her more than she could admit. Will tries not to bring up this topic, but he knows it’s being more complicated than she expected. He doesn’t judge her. Not everyone is trained to adapt to any kind of situation and environment as he and his brother were.

"Are you going early again?" Diana asked, yawning and watching Will's eyes color shift slightly as the light streamed through the curtains. The day was grey and cloudy, making his usually blue eyes get a little darker. He nodded.

"We need to train the new staff as soon as possible, some of them are still having a hard time adapting," he replied. Diana was beautiful in the morning and he resisted the urge to kiss her again. She just nodded, caressing his beard and watching him in a long and strange way. She seemed to ramble on something. Still, he kept it to himself, as he usually does. "Anyway, I have to, darling." he said, giving her a warmer kiss before getting up, picking up his jacket and leaving.

Diana didn’t wait another second. Quickly, she got up, looking for the bloody little boxes she’d left in the bag last night; after picking them up, she ran to the bathroom.

She lowered the toilet lid, sat down, and sighed heavily. Diana had bought two pregnancy tests - just to be sure. She knew her own body enough to fear the worst, but she still hoped it was all in her head. It happened before.

In a hurry, she opened the first box, peed in the pot and all that known process and waited.

Those five damn minutes seemed to last for hours. Her eyes glinted at the shadow of a little stick forming itself, and Diana, hopeful, kept praying that that was the only one.

Her prayers were almost heard, until she saw the second one.

Nervously, feeling the adrenaline take hold of her veins, she took the other test and did the same procedure.

But the second little stick also appeared.

She knew, deep down she knew.

She stared at those two positive pregnancy tests for a few minutes, the most agonizing in her life. She knew that Will would take it as a welcome surprise; Incredibly, he appreciated the idea of ​​having a child. He didn’t exactly feel ready or good enough - he feared what he would be like around the kid on one of his bad days -, but deep down he was found of the idea.

But Diana wanted to wait.

Her life was never easy, she was 34 years old and still in his first degree, when most of her friends were practically PhDs. She’s been dreaming on getting her expertise in applied biochemistry and even pursuing a master's degree in forensics. In her plans, she’d never even thought for a second about having a child - in fact, she fell in love with Will so unexpectedly that even that was out of the plans. Now, staring at those two little sticks in each of the tests, she wondered where her dream would be in the middle of this.

How could she let that happen? Would it be fair to allow something that never had place in her plans to just rob them from her?

No, she couldn’t let that happen.

Diana suddenly heard the bedroom door opening and, startled, she realizes that she hasn’t closed the bathroom door. Quickly, she tossed the two tests into the trash, covering them with the toilet paper she kneaded hastily, squeezing the discharge right away and leaving the bathroom still in her T-shirt and panties.

Will was beside the bed, looking for something under the pillow and the sheets.

“Something wrong”, Diana asked, reaching out to him and hugging his wide back.

"I left the God damn cellphone again" he said, still dismayed. She smiled, knowing he loses that cell phone every minute of the day simply because he wasn’t into technology enough to care carrying the thing with him everytime.

“Is that the one”, she said, pointing to the object, which rested on the nightstand beside the bed. Will smiled, putting it in his pocket and turning around.

"What would I do without you?" he asks, holding her face in both hands, making circular movements with his thumbs, as he used to. Diana inclined her head to brush her face against his touch; filled with worries, feeling a gentle touch of Will's large, warm hands made her forget for a second all the mess that her life was becoming.

"Not much," she said, leaning down to feel his soft lips touch hers tenderly.

"I promise I'll try to get home earlier."

"I promise I'll really try to make us dinner before I give up and leave it to you." they both laughed, and, giving her one last warm kiss, Will said goodbye again.

As the slight feeling of anesthesia that was Will's touch and scent dissipated and reality plagued her again, Diana sat up in bed and took a deep breath, trying to put her thoughts in order.

That would be a long day.

***

The university was busy, as usual, and Diana didn’t quite know what she was doing in there. She barely managed to think of what to wear to get there, she doubted she’d really focus on anything. But she couldn’t miss that class - besides being an important subject for the exams, it was one of the most important ones for her thesis, where most of her hours of research in the library were concentrated.

She just picked up her things in the closet and headed for the classroom - a large auditorium where the teacher was setting up the projector for class.

Diana tried very hard to concentrate, or think of anything but the result of the two tests that morning - she tried to think about the lab where she worked, how the weather would be like. Nothing seemed to catch her attention or distract her enough, so she left the auditorium, literally threw her things in the closet, and picked up the cell phone, disking a familiar number.

“Hello”, said the slightly euphoric voice of Benny.

“Hi, Ben, it's Diana.”

"Your timing is always perfect," he said ironically. "I'm in the middle of something."

“Is it gonna take too long?”, she really needed to talk to him. Benny could feel the subtle hint of urgency in that question, so he looked at Pope, who was talking to some bad looking guys who didn’t want to pay them, and sighed heavily.

“Did something happen?”

"Kind of", her voice sounded more broken than she planned, and she knew at once that she wouldn’t be as strong as she imagined.

"I can see you in an hour, ok?"

She was about to hang up when he called her.

“Hey, Diana?”

“What?”

“Was it Will?”, the way he asked that question was so unexpected and genuinely worried that Diana felt her eyes burn.

"Kind of", she replied, evasive again, choosing to tell everything at the right time.

"You know I’ll kill him, right?", she smiled slightly.

“I know.”

“Then go to Deli’s and order my beer”, he said and hung up, leaving her surprised that he could always soothe the anguish she felt with only half a dozen unspoken words. She also knew that the beer was a well-known Ben Miller tactic of making her have enough of it to be completely honest - but that wouldn’t be needed.

 The day seemed to improve as she approached the cozy diner, which was the stage of Diana and Will’s first meeting, but which had been long frequented by her and Benny. No matter how much time passed, Diana couldn’t understand how she and Ben Miller had become friends, considering that, if they didn’t meet in that bar, they would never see each other again because of their diverse careers. She, in the first graduation of her life, first semester, a junior college who still lived with her parents; Benny, a war veteran who drinks and fights better than anyone she know; both the same age, however.

When she got in, Diana went to the place they always choose - at the window, with padded seats and a rectangular table - grateful for the empty spots. Of course it was, it wasn’t even close to lunch yet, so the place hadn’t got the chance to be crowded by noisy people.

Diana ordered a cappuccino, opting for something less aggressive than a large cup of beer before noon, and looked around deliberately. She remembered how Benny, on a hot, humid night, had taken his brother and friends - Pope, Catfish and Redfly, as she came to know - by surprise, claiming it was his birthday and his brother - who had returned from the Middle East - also needed a nice night to get away. She remembered William Miller - who later discovered were also called Ironhead - sitting next to her, as Ben was getting drunk in his own seat. He smiled lightly, knowing that in a short time he would have to break his brother's partu and take him home before an alcoholic coma.

Will was not the shy type, Diana soon realized this - he just wasn’t willing to take that night as his brother would. Still, they talked for a while, in the middle of the bustle that Benny caused to want an arm-wrestling battle with everyone who passed their table. Will was educated and reserved, always a good listener while Diana explained that she was in her second semester in college and hardly expected to finish the course. Will enchanted her without her own noticing in how he was paying so much attention to her, looking right into her eyes and smiling discreetly as she began to shuffle a few words over the beer.

Everything came in flashes as she sipped her drink, until her thoughts were interrupted by the front door bell.

After entering the diner, Benny immediately looked to the right, finding Diana sitting in their usual place.

"A large beer, please", he ordered to Wendy, the attendant who was always flirting with him, even though she knew he was in a relashionship.

He didn’t have to come too close to realize that Diana's greeting smile was tainted with an insistent worry, something he easily learned to notice. Her eyes were tired, he could see she haven’t slep well, and her hands wouldn’t stop moving - either by tapping her little pinkie in the cup, or by curling a lock of her long, dark hair, or by picking up a napkin and wiping her fingers unnecessarily; something she always does when she’s anxious.

“Been waiting too long?”, he asked, sitting across from her, leaving his jacket by his side; the day was really heating up.

"Not much," Diana replied, not quite sure, for she had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she didn’t really notice if it had been that long. “Large beer before lunch?"

"It’s been a long day," he said, watching Diana smile.

"What were you guys doing?", she questioned, because whenever Benny and Pope were together for some work, things didn’t always go well enough, to say the least.

"Incredibly boring," he answered, getting his drink from Wendy, who smiled falsely shy and touched his hand on purpose before leaving. "But the money you get in cargo escorts is incredibly good, so at least it was worth it”. He pulled the glass to his lips and gave a few good sips, sighing heavily at the end. She thought it was too early to drink beer so avidly, but she didn’t even bother to censor him; Benny has his own conceptions of proper schedules. "There was a smart guy who wanted to screw us up, but he clearly didn’t know who he was dealing with. If you think I'm convincing, you don’t know what Pope can do.”

Diana simply drifted through the whole plot. Unbelievably, it was calming her a little. All the effort to find something to be distracted with - even forcing herself to go to class -, for Ben to do it better than anything. She loved it in him, just as she loved the way Will was more self-contained. Sge didn’t know why she had never been attracted to Benny, but had fallen in love so deeply with his brother.

Benny was still talking when, as he realized the unnatural, restrained silence of his sister-in-law, his tone decreased until a quick silence happend before he asked:

“Okay, can you tell me what happened now?”, Diana was feeling perfectly restrained so far, but as she looked at Benny, she was afraid she couldn’t hold the ends.

She looked at him with almost all the forces she had.

"I'm pregnant," she said, perhaps a little too quickly; in fact almost scrambling to say the words, like a fifteen-year-old girl telling the news to her controlling and authoritative father - not to a friend and brother-in-law who most represented a brother to her.

Benny was speechless for a moment, just assimilating everything.

“From Will?!

"Hell, of course it's Will's, who else would it be, dumbass?", she wasn’t necessarily offended, but she found the insinuation ridiculous.

"I'm not judging, I'd still be with you if it wasn’t, I just realized how worried you are two miles away from you and suddenly it made sense when you told."

Diana said nothing, only sighed, still holding her cup with the almost cold drink.

"But why are you so worried, Forest?", Benny questioned, this time with the voice lower and leaning forward on the table, waiting for the moment she looked at him. Diana thought it was cool to call each other by their last name sometimes, except she find hers to be too simple.

"I don’t know if I want it now - and it's not just the fear of not being a good mother, I just ... I don’t want to.”

"You don’t want it to disturb your career, right?", as unbelievable as it sounds, Diana would never be offended by this kind of question, because as much as it seemed that he was judging her, she knew he was only saying it because he knew her very well, his voice subtle and intimate. Benny could be quite spontaneous and even a little euphoric at times, but he was incredibly understanding and affable with those he loved.

Diana nodded, unsure what to say, making Benny remember a seven-year-old girl being caught red-handed using her mother's jewelry and being forced to confess everything. Whenever she did that, she reminded him of this. He smiled, got up and sat down beside her.

"Listen, I don’t know what you really want to do – actually, I think the idea is desperate, but if I can suggest something, I'd say you should talk to Will, see how you can handle it."

"He’ll wanna try, Benny, he will and will also propose to take care of the child all the time if I want to."

"Does he want to have a baby this bad?", Benny didn’t imagine his brother to be that way.

"It's not like it's a dream for him, but I know that if it happens, as it is happening now, he won’t appreciate the idea of ​​ruling out the possibility. He lives with too many deaths in his own mind to not want to preserve a possible one.”

Benny nodded, just waiting for her to finish.

"He's going to say that he's gonna do all that’s needed for the baby by himself, if I want to; I don’t want to get rid of this child, but we know it won’t be like this, Benny. I won’t be able to just leave my boyfriend with our son and focus on my career like that, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself or not to be worried all the time. I don’t know what to do, Benny, that's the truth.”

Benny pulled her by the shoulders in a hug and felt the top of her head touch his chin.

"I took 28 years of my life to be able to do what I wanted," she continued, her voice muffled. "I know it's selfish, but a child has never been in my plans and it's very unfair that now that I can be what I want to be, it might be taken away from me so abruptly.”

 Benny stepped back a little so he could look into her eyes and said, firmly this time:

"Diana, you're perfectly capable of getting what you want, whenever you want.  I'm not saying that necessarily because I want you to have this baby - I'm really going to support you in any decision you make -, I'm just saying that you shouldn’t martyr yourself and think that it's selfish to prioritize something you've always dreamed of, do you understand?”, she nodded, feeling her eyes burn, but not letting any tear fall. "Now, you're sure you don’t need a drink?", he asked, pulling the glass to himself and taking it in halfway. Diana smiled briefly, feeling some weight drop from her shoulders.

"I don’t think so", she said, watching as he shrugged and finished at an impressive record time. "You know, just because you ordered a large beer necessarily means you're competing with someone to see who finishes it faster. You can just take your time.”

"Strength of habit", he said, blinking and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 The day was virtually lost after Deli's. Diana couldn’t concentrate on her assignments, and even a co-worker in the lab realized that, volunteering to help her and finish cleaning the glassworks at the end of the day - which Diana promised herself se would be more grateful for later.

The subway to her house didn’t take long, so in about twenty to twenty-five minutes she arrived home.

The house was dark and empty, as usual, considering she always arrived before Will. She couldn’t help but smile slightly as she remembered that his promise to come earlier had been predictably broken. Not that Will was some kind of workhoolic, he just wasn’t used to leaving earlier, so he only remembered that promise when he was almost home.

Anyway, Diana didn’t think it was bad at all, she wanted some time with herself to take a long bath in the tub and try to relax. Then, shortly after throwing her purse on the bed and taking off all her clothes, she prepared her bath unhurriedly, went slowly into the hot water and closed her eyes.

In fact, the feeling of coming from an emotionally exhausting day and sinking into the hot water was perfect - as if, for just that moment, it sank all the problems together.

Diana didn’t notice when Will parked the car in the garage, throwing the key on the side table by the door and snapping his neck. However, she realized when he entered the room, even though he was silent as a cat - and it took some time and some scares to learn for her to learn- and took off his shoes; then, she just waited for the door to be opened in a crack a few minutes later, with William Miller prostrate in his underwear.

"Can I steal your bath?", he asked, a ghost of a smile haunting his lips. He always did this, even though they had dated for some time and it was perfectly understandable that he would just walk into the bathroom and slip into the bathtub with her. Diana knew how much Will preserved privacy and the intimate moment of each one with itself, and she could only think how perfect that damn man was.

It was a pity that at the moment this thought didn’t bring her as much happiness as usual.

"Definitely," she replied, sitting up better to accommodate his big legs. They always talked about buying a bigger bathtub, but deep down they both knew it was perfectly adequate for the two of them, he was just roomy as a bear.

Will opened the rest of the door and entered, silent, in a way that he became accustomed to being unaware of, as Diana watched his concise way of doing things - the way he shut the door, as he pulled his hair back with one hand, smiling, handsome, watching her wait for him to take off his underwear and slowly walk into the tub, trying not to step on her feet. Right after that Will was sitting, legs spread and flexed, almost out of the tub, and it was not long before he drew her into his chest, a cuddle that was one of her favorite ones.

Diana soon got up and turned her back to him, just to sit down again and crawl backward until she touched Will's firm, soft chest. Before she even settled down, she felt his long arms wrap around her in a place where Diana could stay forever, without worrying about anything else.

All this – at the same time that left her with the feeling of a warm and happy heart -, made her feel the icy fingers of guilt and anguish rise into her gut.

Will could feel her brief tension, her breath not fully relaxed. Diana was good at disguising, so it took him some time to notice these subtleties in her ever-so-spontaneous behavior. Her hair was partially wet, but that wasn’t what he wanted. Will gently pushed away the long dark strands that rested on her shoulder - leaving all her hair on one side -, and buried his nose in her soft neck, smelling the bath salts, but looking for her own smell, inherent to her skin. Diana couldn’t deny that every time he did that - no matter how this was a common habit of his in tub-baths -, her legs always loses their way home.

He felt her shiver a little bit and smiled, his lips and nose still glued to her skin.

“How was your day?”, he asked, his voice muffled as he made an involuntary caress with his fingertips on her hips, sipping her scent that he had to find in the midst of so many bath salts.

"Basically the same," Diana replied, her whole body shivering and feeling the effect that this man had on her. Eyes closed and head tilted, she continued. "The class was boring, so I left early and meet Benny.”

"Wasn’t he at some work with Pope?", Will questioned, never taking his face from her neck.

“Yeah, I didn’t even know that. I called him and asked if we could see each other, we didn’t speak for a long time, and he said he was busy, but he managed to go." she answered, knowing that what she was telling him wasn’t the whole truth. With Will, she couldn’t disguise anything so well, and the more serious she was, the less success she had. Not that she lied with frequency, but she knew she couldn’t tell a complete lie. She needed to mask it with some of the truth.

Will nodded, and, still sucking her scent, he trailed his hands between her thighs - one of his favorite parts on Diana's body -, simply caressing and feeling the softness of that fleshy region. Diana knew that he wasn’t necessarily trying to do something - Will liked to feel her skin and, whenever he could, he rested his hand unknowingly and began to drag his thumb from side to side; or, in flashy parts, to give light grips. She didn’t know if he was aware of what he was stirring inside her, but she made no mention of making him stop.

Will began to kiss her neck, dragging the warm kisses closer to her shoulders, his lips soft and tender, promising things she knew they would fulfill if she wanted to. His fingers began to sink deeper into the flesh of her thighs, his hands now rising up at her hip - another part he adored -, pressing her lightly against his chest. Diana was just letting go, feeling his big hands, his fleshy lips kissing her shoulder, his beard brushing her skin calmly, calculated, and it was not long before she felt his usual stiffness at the end of her back.

Suddenly, she seemed to be aware of everything, and it seemed she was doing something he shouldn’t do - as if she didn’t deserve it. The tension spread, but Diana soon restrained it, for she knew that Will would ask her if she got desperate; then she just centered her head so that he could no longer continue to kiss her, and took a deep breath, sitting more erect in the tube.

"I'm sorry, I...", Will stopped the movement with his hands and interrupted her.

"No need to apologize if you just don’t want anything, you know that.", he said, low in her ear, and placed another warm kiss on her shoulder, reposing his hands on her hips again. "Besides, that’s not my point here.”

Diana sighed, pulling his hands in front of her in a warm embrace she knew she was far from deserving, but she needed to make the most of it before being hit by reality again.

[robinruns]

Where I've Been

Fuck. Its been a day. Literally. I was going to make a big post about everything going on from this weekend, so at this point I may as well include yesterday in it too. I feel like I'm burying the lead here, but if I don’t try to type this up in some kind of order, I won't get everything.

Saturday me and Kyle had awesome breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes and before noon headed up to Manitowoc. We went straight to the Wisconsin Maritime Museum, which is where packet pickup was held. I got my bib, shirt, a cowbell, and a free pair of socks! Naturally I chose purple.

Then we went through the museum, which has lots of actual boats, an actual steam engine, attached to a giant prop, and the coolest part, we got to go on a submarine! They have a WWII submarine docked at this place and you can go on and take a tour. The whole thing was so narrow! And they said it was usually like 100° in there. Ugh, the men who were working on those subs were true heroes.

We went back to the hotel after that, grabbed dinner from Noodles and I watched a good portion of Mortal Engines on the shitty wifi. I went to bed about 9:30 and crashed immediately.

I got up pretty easily about 5:00 on Sunday and started getting ready. They had shuttles starting at 6 to the start line and I was on that first shuttle so there was some time just hanging out. I saw there was a 4:50 pace group so I was like ok, I can hang with this guy. The race went well in the first half. I was able to hang with this group really well.

The vast majority of the race you are running right along Lake Michigan and it's just incredible. It's one thing to stand in a spot and be like wow, look at the lake, it's another to run along it for miles and miles and it just goes on and on as far as the eye can see. It feels like the ocean, but you know its not.

The route takes you from Manitowoc to Two Rivers, where you turn around and head back, that's when the group took off when I stopped to go to the bathroom, and I couldn't ever catch up to them. Then it really became a mental game. I think I handled it pretty well, until about mile 18 when I was like I'm hungry. Not oh let me take a shot blok and some Gatorade hungry, like GIVE ME A FUCKING CHEESEBURGER hungry. That's when things became a problem. Oh and then my Dad texted me at mile 20ish and said he was proud of me and I started crying, and then at 21ish my Garmin died. Fully charged I will note.

But I think being able to see Manitowoc in the distance really helped, I could see I was getting closer as I trudged along. And I knew there were people behind me, so I was like I'm doing ok, I'll be ok.

The last mile has a good size hill, which sucked since the course is so flat, so I walked it. But when I got to the top I took off again and I had Champion playing and I ran hard into the finish.

First thing I do? Go get a hamburger.

I told Kyle I felt like I was gonna cry, and he replies "well why did you put so many sad songs on your playlist?" 😐🙄 No! I was just emotional from finishing the race again! And I felt like I did it right this time, I left it out there. I don't have any regrets other than I just wish I could have maintained my pace in the 2nd half or hung with the pace group longer. I should have been able to hang with them through mile 20 based on my Syttende Mai performance, ya know? Maybe I did too much that day. Who knows, all I know is I'm satisfied.

Then as I'm eating this burger that I've been craving for so long, I turn on data so I can sync my Fitbit and then that headline comes up. Y'all know the one. Jonas Brothers hint at MCR reunion.

I, in that moment, started to not believe I was still living. Something happened on the course, and I'm in The Good Place. And yes, later I read a lot of people rationalizing it as, it was probably FIATFV rehearsing for their tour, since it was in NYC, but still. As long as it makes the guys happy, I'm happy with whatever they choose to do, reunite, stay split up, whatever. I'm Team Happy MCR.

So we went back to the hotel, Kyle packed while I got a shower. I wore a tank top and had my hair in braids and I noticed when I was done, the hair ties beat against my back for so long in the same spots that I got welts! Crazy! Also leave it to the fucking vampire to get sunburned on a cloudy day. Not too bad, but I got tan lines on my back. Not that I care, but still.

We grabbed brunch at Perkins and had very Leslie Knope and Ron Swanson-esque meals. When we got home I finished my movie while eating Elephant Tracks ice cream for dinner.

Yesterday the morning was nice and chill. I'm officially back on the watching what I eat bandwagon, so things were less indulgent yesterday.

Then I get a text from my mom to call her. Fuck. That's never good.

My aunt passed away suddenly and unexpectedly at age 70. She died in her sleep either of a heart attack or stroke. My grandma, her mom, had a heart attack, and then a stroke which ultimately killed her, 20 years ago.

Cancer took my mom's dad and sister, my mom had cancer like 25+ years ago. Heart problems took my dad's parents, and now his sister. These are all things I need to consider when making life choices. It's like oh I'm young, but things have an impact down the road. Your weight, your dietary choices. I also have the potential in my genes to live to 97 like my Grandma did, passing away just two years ago.

Despite the news I went on with my regularly scheduled day off stuff and got my hair done. I texted some people, like @breakfastwiththesun and emailed my boss so hopefully people aren’t annoying when I get back in to work today. Then I went to Target and met up with my mom. I had to go grocery shopping and it helped both of us I think.

I'm the type of person who when something happens, I have to spring into action, but there was no action for me to spring into. The coroner hadn't even determined a cause at this point, let alone when anything would be.

Now we know that it will be a memorial service at some later date. Hopefully the last week of the month, but who knows.

And with all that, I've been off social media for the most part. Just I've been busy, but also just cleaning up files and stuff on my computer. I didn't want to make a million stupid, rambling posts that I'd regret in a day.

I also kinda didn’t wanna talk about this. I don't want people to feel forced to feel sorry for me. I feel more bad for her son, it's his birthday today, and he's the cousin I feel closest too. Or for her grandkids. Just yea. I dunno. It's been a weird few days.

[cinnamon-pineforest]

Kidnapped.

((Alrighty everyone. This short story is going to start off a big rp arc. Yes, I know Cin is in a weakened state and this is kinda straight to the point. I did that on purpose. I hope everyone likes this.))

As summer drew closer mother nature was already sending out her surprise storms. Cold, heavy rain poured down from the dark cloud filled late afternoon sky. Thunder tumbled loudly and lightning crackled across the land. The trees were swaying heavily against the heavy wind as the storm raged on. 

In the forest near Beacon Academy footsteps could be heard. Someone was trying their best to arrive at their destination as quickly as possible. This person was Cinnamon. She was completely soaked and mud caked her sandals and bare feet. The young Faunus ran as fast as she could even though she was completely exhausted and the wind was pushing against her. Even when she slipped and fell face first in the mud she merely picked herself back up and kept going. 

When she finally arrived home she took her sandals off first so she wouldn't track mud into the house. Even though both Red and Oobleck were out on a dinner date and would arrive home late, she wasn't in the mood to clean the floors. She entered the house, locked the door, and then leaned against it. She paused for a few brief moments so she could catch her breath. Rain water dripped from her person and onto the floor. Even her hair clung onto her clothes, backpack, and covered her face. He entire form was shivering due to being in the cold wind and rain for so long.

She took a few deep breathes before falling into a coughing fit. Today was a rough day for her to say the least. First she was woken up at the crack of dawn by her cousin Andy. Both him and his brother, Isaac, needed her to model for them. So, she spent the entire early morning modeling. Then it was training with her team until a little after noon. After that was even more training. This time with her Godfather, Ozpin, and he never goes easy on her. After his private training session she practiced her Dust manipulation Semblance on her own. 

She had planned to go home after that but was called by her Aunt Sapphire. She desperately needed help at her cafè. Sensing and hearing the distress from her Cin didn't have the heart to say no. She ended up helping her Aunt with serving customers and filling out pastry orders, including a wedding cake. It wasn't until recently her Aunt let her go home and that's because the storm had unexpectedly arrived. While flying would be faster, she was too afraid to get struck by lightning. To make matters worse, her scroll was dead and she couldn't find a taxi. So, the young Faunus ended running the whole way home. While she could've used her Aunts scroll to call her parents, she didn't want to ruin their date. They deserved some alone time together. 

After she stopped coughing the young Faunus huffed. Wanting to get out of her wet and muddy clothes, she trotted upstairs to her room. After tossing her backpack to the side and throwing her wet, dirty clothes into her laundry hamper she scurried to the bathroom to clean and dry herself off. She then threw on a white shirt and a pair blue jeans. She plugged her scroll into its charger and waited for it to turn on. When it finally did she sent her parents a quick text message saying she was home. 

Seeing her gold-leaf crown and gold locket were wet she placed them on her desk. She'd clean them in a bit. Right now she wanted some tea and headed back downstairs to the kitchen.

As she waited for the water to boil she fell into another coughing fit. Honestly, she couldn't tell if her coughing was due to her busy day or her running nearly an hour in the storm. At the moment, she didn't want to figure it out. All she knew right now was that she was tried, freezing cold, suffering from Aura exhaustion, and felt like a Grimm stepped on her. After she finished her tea she was going to quickly clean her jewelry and then crash onto her bed and go to sleep. Despite not really eating much all day, she wasn't very hungry. 

Just as she poured the hot liquid into her mug and dropped the tea bag in it her parents pet foxes came running into the room. Both of them looked upset and started tugging on both of her pants legs. This took the young Faunus completely by surprise. This kind of behavior from Kurama, not far fetched but still out of the ordinary. But Yuko too? Something wasn't right. 

When they began to try to drag her out of the kitchen she merely followed them. "What in blue blazes has gotten into you two? What's gotten both of you so upset?"

Just as she was following them to the staircase Cinnamon froze. She had thought she had heard something outside. Cin turned around only to see something that completely shocked her. People fully dressed in pure black military gear burst through the front door and the living room windows. Even their faces were covered by black ski masks. Her eyes widened as she witnessed what was happening. Adrenalin immediately took over her systems and she grabbed the foxes and ran upstairs. 

After throwing them into her parents office and slamming the door shut she bolted to her room. If she was going to defend herself then she needed her weapon and Dust. 

As she threw open her bedroom door she was greeted to the sight of even more black clad people. They had busted through her window to get into her room. Right away they all tried to grab her. As exhausted the young Faunus was, she fought back. Even with her Aura completely drained, that didn't mean she couldn't take these guys down! 

She landed some good hits on some and even kicked a man inbetween the legs. But, this didn't last long. One of them shoved a cloth right into her face. It smelled sweet and she was beginning to pass out. The cloth was covered in chloroform! 

When she tried to fight back someone slammed her onto the ground and everyone held her down. The last thing Cin though as she passed out was what was why were they doing this, what they wanted from her, and that her parents were going to be panicked and worried sick about all this.

When Cinnamon was finally out everyone got off of her. One of the black clad people picked her up and threw her over their shoulder. Another pulled down their ski mask enough to whistle loudly. The others downstairs heard this. One in particular perked up. She was the one who burst though the front door and was Cinnamons size and height.

She smirked underneath her mask and took off her black gloves and handed them to the person next to her. "Okay everyone. Time to make a crime scene!"

Someone handed her a thermos and she opened it. She ran inside and when she was almost to the staircase she sprinkled a few drops of the liquid inside the thermos onto the floor. It was blood red and looked exactly like blood droplets when they hit the floor. She stopped at the base of the stairs and then stuck her hand inside it to her her hand all 'bloody'. 

She turned to her colleagues. "Flip the couch over and some other stuff. We need to make it look like there was a fight here. Follow me upstairs too. We're going to trash her room."

As her colleagues did as they were told she ran upstairs and ran her hand along the wall, making it look like blood was smeared on it. As she ran into Cinnamons room she could hear her colleges running up the stairs. The ones who were in the bedroom before them had already left with their target. 

When they all reached the top of the stairs one of them stopped. He heard high pitched whinning coming from one of the rooms. Curiosity getting the best of him, he followed the sound and took his gloves off. When he opened the door where it was coming from and was immediately attacked by Yuko and Kurama. Both of them sank their teeth into the guys leg. He yelped and tried to get them off of him, dropping his gloves in the process. "Mangy mutts! Get off of me!"

Yuko sank his teeth into his hand and the guy kicked them off of him. Just as the foxes ran after him again he slammed the office door shut. They just scratched at the door and whinned. He kicked the door, leaving a black scuff mark on it. "Shut up!"

He picked up his gloves, shoving them in his pocket, and left to rejoin the others, holding his bleeding hand in annoyance. Unbeknownst to him, a few drops of his blood had dripped onto the floor right when Yuko bit him.

Meanwhile, inside Cins bedroom, the girl and her colleagues trashed her room. She first smeared blood on the outside handle and then inside one as she closed it. One person then kicked the door down. Everyone entered the room and one of them took off his gloves, revealing Faunus claws. He made some claw marks on the floor and walls. He even tore Cins rug and comforter on her bed. Someone also unplugged her scroll and crushed it.

Cins bed was flipped over along with her nightstand. Her dresser and desk even had a little 'blood' on them. The girl poured the scarlet liquid on some more places. Even smeared it over a claw mark on the wall. The room was now trashed and 'blood stained'. 

The last thing the girl did was pour some of the liquid onto the floor and then laid in it on her stomach. This would make it look like Cinnamon had laid there in her own blood. Someone even picked her up and then put her down away from the stain. She turned to everyone. "I believe that wraps it up. Let's regroup with the others. We're done here."

She then hopped out of the window and ran into the storm. Everyone else followed, glass from the shattered window crunching beneath their heavy black boots as they jumped out of the room. One person took Cins crown and necklace and tossed them onto the bedroom floor before he jumped outside with the others. The jewelry landed near the big stain on the floor.

As the villains left Yuko and Kurama continued to scratch at the office door and whine loudly. The floors and stairs were covered in mud, rainwater, and realistic blood stains. The couch, chair, and coffee table were flipped over in the living room and glass covered the muddy, wet, floor. Besides the walls in the stairway and floors leading to Cins room, the only room in the house that was trashed was Cinnamons room. 

As the storm raged on the footprints of the people who kidnapped Cin were being washed away. The only sign that they were here were the muddy footprints in the house and it's missing resident. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Cins tea mug continued to sit on the counter. The hot liquid inside it slowly cooling down due to the cold wind from the storm blowing into the broken windows and kicked down front door. 

[darquedeath4444]

The Pain We Share

Chapter EIGHT

The days slowly passed and soon, it had been two weeks since their invasion of Orochimaru's Northern Base. Sasori found himself regularly visiting Sakura. He would bring her her meals and he would read or write reports while she ate. Once she finished, she would turn to watch him as he flipped through pages or dipped his brush into ink over and over. It became a rather mundane but fixed routine.

Sasori had been carrying Sakura's dinner towards her room when he bumped into Itachi. He easily regained his balance and noted that not a single drop of soup had spilled.

Itachi dipped his head in silent apology. "For Sakura?"

Sasori nodded and shifted his hold on the tray.

The Uchiha blinked and went still, something he often did when he was considering possibilities and outcomes and chances and luck and everything in between prior to taking action before he lifted the paper bag Sasori hadn't realized he had been carrying. He dug through it, then pulled out a smaller bag. "Anmitsu," he said, holding it out. "I doubt she would have had the pleasure of indulging in sweets."

Sasori took it with a small nod. "Thank you," he said, surprised. The raven had an unexpectedly sweet tooth, and he usually kept a rather tight hold on his snacks.

Itachi nodded. "Perhaps you could ask her if there is anything she would like to eat," he said. "Our meals lack variation, and I doubt it will be much trouble to get her something she would like.

Sasori considered this. Sakura hadn't complained about anything since she had woken up, but perhaps that was due to her upbringing. He supposed it would not be too much extra effort and he nodded. "Okay."

Konan came knocking on his door just as he had been about to take a bath. The woman was a rare guest, but Sasori invited her in without question. Konan hesitated before she entered and took a seat on his bed when he offered it to her. She politely declined tea.

Sasori shrugged and sat back down on his work chair. He noticed the bag she was carrying. "Is there anything you need?" He asked curiously. Now that he had sat down, it was very very difficult to not turn back to his messy desk and continue to work on one of his many unfinished side projects.

Konan fiddled with her fingers, then sighed. She turned to the bag and held it up. "I found some old clothes," she said. "They might be a little big, but they should fit her. We can buy her new clothes when you are put on shopping duty, but I think it might be a little dull and unsettling to be stuck in hospital garb until then."

Sasori blinked, gears in his mind turning. "Is this about Sakura?" He finally asked.

Konan blinked like the answer should have been obvious. "Of course," she said, then stood up. "I'll be going now," she said. "I asked Nagato, and he said we can allow her to use the baths as long as she's watched. I have a break tomorrow from noon, so I can help her then. Relay that to her, will you?"

The woman was gone before Sasori could reply. He stared at the door as it was softly closed. "...Sure...?"

The Akatsuki had a large archive. This was due to the large variety of interest and specialty of the members, the value their organization saw in knowledge and information, their income, and the backing of several other influential groups and organizations.

Sasori flipped over a book on rare plants, remembering how Itachi had acquired it for him when he had voiced his interest; it appeared his clan had a copy in their own library.

While against Itachi joining, once he was actually a member they were more than eager to show their support. Sasori knew it was mainly for public view, to appear united as a proud clan, but he would take it as long as they did not attempt to interfere. If they thought they could control the Akatsuki through their former heir, they were dead wrong. Itachi would not stand for that.

He frowned, then put down the book; he had read it a dozen times over. He reached for a book a little higher up and paused when it was just out of his reach.

Sasori's chakra control was perfect, but he did not want to risk damaging the cover by using it to get the book.

He heard someone chuckle and scowled, refusing to look back. A blue hand appeared above him and he hissed in annoyance when Kisame easily pulled the book from the shelf. His hand automatically came up to block when the man attempted to lightly smack him with it. "I had that," he said.

Kisame chuckled. "Sure," he said agreeably, and that made Sasori want to smack him even more. He did not and, instead, he rolled his eyes, fully intended on turning and leaving.

"Ah, wait!" Kisame called. Sasori paused. The older man crossed his arms and jerked his head towards the book he was holding. "Is that for your girl?"

Sasori frowned and turned around. "For Sakura?" He asked.

Kisame seemed to consider something. "She must be bored out of her mind," he said. "Maybe you could bring her something to do. A book can't be that dangerous, right?"

Sasori glanced down at the one he was holding. Perhaps his friend was not aware of the many ways one could kill using the bookmark string, but he kept that to himself. "You tried to hit me with it," he pointed out drily.

Kisame laughed. "Doubt something like that would kill you," he said. "Think about it, okay?"

Sasori sighed, wondering why everyone deemed it fit to give their two cents about Sakura. "Okay."

Sasori enjoyed a wide range of pastimes, but his most favorite was probably working on his wooden puppets. It was something he had been doing since he was a kid, and it was also something he was really good at. He did not like selling his works, but he knew that even then people knew of them. Since he had joined the Akatsuki, he had tampered with one or two of his creations to conceal weapons. It was still largely an untested idea, but it was something he had already tested on the field against insignificant opponents and knew could be rather effective once properly polished.

Once the whole thing with Orochimaru was over, he told himself.

He had been messing around with a joint that had been bothering him for a while when there was a knock. Deidara threw open the door without even waiting for a reply and let himself in like he owned the place. Sasori scowled and turned around to face the intruding blond. "What?"

Deidara grinned and plopped himself down on Sasori's bed. "How are you, Danna?" He asked. "How's Sakura-chan, un?"

Sasori pointedly turned back to his desk. He could feel Deidara rolling his eyes before his partner skipped over to his side and leaned obnoxiously over his shoulder. "Danna~"

Sasori sighed. "What?" He asked. "I am busy, and I'll appreciate it if you could leave me alone while I work."

This time, he got to see the blond roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever un," he sang. "Anyways, Danna, the reason I came here today is not to simply allow you the pleasure of my company." He dug into his pocket and pulled out something that easily fit into the palm of his hand. "Look!"

Sasori gave in to his curiosity and leaned in. He realized that the small object was made of clay, and shaped to be a cherry blossom.

"You've got some of that fancy paint here, right?" Deidara asked, looking around. "The paint I keep is meant to be used on works that go bang, so they won't last very long. I thought you could paint it or something. Don't worry, there are no explosives hidden inside." He held out the flower. Sasori took it and carefully turned it around, noting that it was actually a hair clip.

He frowned. "For Sakura?"

Deidara nodded. "Yeah, unless you want it, un." He snickered. "I can make you matching ones if you want."

Sasori rolled his eyes and turned back towards his desk again. Deidara gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder before heading towards the door. "Make sure you give it to her, un!" He called.

Sasori did not grace him with a response and the door closed moments later, signaling his departure. Once the blond's footsteps had faded away, Sasori looked down at the hairclip sitting in his hand. It actually did look really nice.

He sighed, then opened one of his drawers and inspected the first brush he came across. He had just the shade of pink that would suit Sakura.

A reason Sasori often spent his free time in Sakura's room was not something he liked to admit to out loud but sounded just fine in his head.

He enjoyed Sakura's silent companionship.

Deidara was annoying, Kisame treated him like a kid, and Itachi had the 'I know everything you don't air around him all the time. Others, he did not spend nearly as much time with. Sakura was simply there and he found that, sometimes, that was what he was looking for.

He wondered what she enjoyed, and that led to him seeking out Nagato later that day.

The man paused in his own report writing. "I'm sorry?"

"Isn't there something we can allow Sakura to do?" He repeated. "She sits, she eats, she sleeps. It must be boring."

Nagato frowned thoughtfully and put down his brush. "She is a prisoner here," he reminded him gently. "We cannot risk letting her run around without absolute certainty that she is not a threat."

Sasori did not refute the reasonable response and instead nodded. "I know," he said. "But perhaps I could bring her around the base?" As the words left his mouth he wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. He grew poisonous plants to use on his weapons and that area was highly secure, mainly to stop his immature friends from taking out their frustration with him, after facing defeat of some kind by his hand, on his innocent plants. He doubted Sakura would cause much harm if he asked. He said so.

Nagato blinked. "Why, Sasori, that is a wonderful idea," he said, and Sasori though he heard the sarcasm dripping from the man's tone. "Whatever made you think you need my permission to do such a thing?"

Sasori found it was his turn to blink. He frowned In confusion. "Do I not?" He asked. "As you said, she is a prisoner here."

Nagato sighed. "Right," he said. "But truly, that sounds like a good idea, and will hopefully put her at ease. A change of environment may be good for her."

Sasori nodded. "Thank you," he said.

Nagato stopped him before he could leave. "What brought this up suddenly?" He asked.

Sasori paused for a moment. He could clearly remember how many of his friends had approached him about Sakura. Even Kakuzu had asked about her. Perhaps it was the constant reminders of her existence?

However, he simply shrugged. "Who knows?”

Chapter NINE>

<Chapter SEVEN

Chapter List

[jewel-s-blog]

a nap for two - j.jh

genre: enemies(ish) to friends(for now), fluff

transfer student!jaehyun x gender neutral!reader

warnings: other than my bad writing? kind of a slow burn?

word count: 6.5k

inspired by this prompt from @yoonohprompts

plot: transfer student!jaehyun, is an unlikely friend in your final year of high school, but the two of you find yourselves cozily napping under the stairs together rather regularly

a/n: I’m thinking about making this a series, but depends on the feedback I guess. Also, I didn’t actually hate high school (quite the opposite actually, since I found it to be a happy time for me), but I made the oc hate school because I felt it fit with the story better so 🤗 enjoy!

[September 4]

It was kind of strange to see someone new transfer into what was the final year of hell that you were required by law to show up to. What made it even stranger was that most people who did transfer to your high school, mid-quarter, were usually military kids or other lost souls who had been kicked out of whichever previous hellhole whence they came. So when his fresh face walked onto campus, already a good month into senior year, all anyone could talk about was him.

Jung Jaehyun.

He was quiet, and didn’t seem to be very outgoing or the over sharing type, so naturally the theories around his sudden appearance began surfacing like crazy.

Some people said that his parents were these super rich research scientists for the military and they had moved out here to follow their work. Others spread rumors that he had an inappropriate relationship with one of his previous teachers—which you didn’t find hard too hard to believe considering... well, have you seen him?

But most of these theories kind of just went in one ear and out the other. You didn’t have any classes with him, which meant you never really got to have any real interactions with the guy. That meant that while you were aware of his somewhat enigmatic existence, you were really just more focused on needing to get your college apps done and have them looking good enough to make sure you weren’t drowning in debt going into adulthood.

To be honest, while you didn’t particularly love having to get up every morning to drag yourself to get your high school diploma, you still wanted your future to be funnier, happier, and brighter. And to you, that meant being able to go to college. But it wasn’t an easy feat, to say the least.

On top of your studies, there was sports practices, volunteer work, your part-time job, and the piano lessons that your mom convinced you not to quit nearly 7+ times in the past 14 years(the asian jumped out).

Due to the laundry list of obligations you had constantly looming over you, sleep became an elusive little thing. After about a month of running on an average of three hours of sleep per night, the only tea you had time for was the extremely caffeinated kind that filled your two liter flask day and night.

Eventually, you were in such a dire need of rest that you made it a point never to schedule things that took up your lunch time unless completely necessary. And rather than hitting up the cafeteria for a nutritious meal or the lastest gossip (usually about the mystery man himself), you settled for the space under the stairs of the newest building addition.

The place was cool, and quiet, and completely void of all others; which making it the perfect spot to spend the meager 25 minutes of lunch break to get some shut eye.

——————————

[October 12]

It had become routine for you to head straight for your nap-time spot as soon as the bell for lunch rang. Being a Monday made it that much more necessary for you to get to your spot so you could stretch out your legs on the chilled concrete floor and lean back against the backpack you used as a cushion against the just as chilled concrete wall.

You nonchalantly speed walk and whip out your phone, getting your slow jams Spotify playlist ready to shuffle for when you finally get into the perfect napping position.

Rounding the corner, just before your secret spot comes into view, you stop in dead in your tracks because you hear someone. Or more accurately, some people.

Apparently your “secret” spot wasn’t so much a secret anymore. You sigh in dissatisfaction at the thought that someone had the audacity to take away the one thing you looked forward in the craptastic day you were already having despite it not yet even reaching noon.

You hear a high pitched giggle, a sound you’ve become all too familiar with over the past four years of witnessing teenage hormones take over the masses of the student body. At one point, you were a part of those masses, but nothing lasts forever. Instead, it’s the low, baritone heavy voice that surprises you for a split second as it’s not one you can recognize. But once that split second is over, you take that one extra step that reveals the scene that you prepared yourself to find.

“A-hem.” You clear your throat, making your biting annoyance and presence known.

The two bodies face you in an instant, and the innocent shock you see on their faces actually makes you feel a little guilty for interrupting a moment that you really had no business butting into.

So you stand there a bit awkwardly, averting your eyes from the couple, but not allowing your feet to retreat. Staring at the wall, you think about succumbing to the tension in the now cramped space and apologizing. That is, until you hear the low voice reverb yet again, but with a haughty tone laced into it.

“Do you mind?”

Normally, you’d say that you have a particularly long fuse, but in this moment, you allow all the stress, lack of sleep, and frustrations of the day get the better of you. Darting up to look into the eyes that had just challenged you, you seeth back,

“Yes. Yes, I do mind.”

You let your peeved gaze fall onto the girl slightly hidden behind the shoulder of the taller figure before her. Letting it linger, to let her know that you were just as aggravated, if not more aggravated than her companion, she shrank down to hide herself more and let her hand find the side of his arm.

“C’mon. Let’s just go.” She whispers, clearly feeling more embarrassed the longer you hold your ground.

Frankly, this girl was someone you knew personally. She wasn’t in your immediate circle of friends, but you had worked on projects together and hung out outside of school on a few occasions. Basically, the two of you were pretty friendly. She also knew that you weren’t someone to be messed with as you had built a reputation of being amiable but deadly if the situation required.

“Jaehyun—,” she whines, “let’s go.”

He didn’t divert his eyes from you as she tugged at his shirt sleeve.

Jaehyun. That was his name.

You had forgotten momentarily since lately you had gotten so busy, your brain couldn’t register and recognize the unfamiliar face fast enough. But none of that mattered to you now. All you cared about was that you now had only 23 minutes to nap instead of your usual 25. So you add,

“Yeah, Jaehyun. I think it’s time for you to go.” You cock your head and allow a little smirk to form as you are satisfied with how this situation was quickly turning in your favor.

You couldn’t quite believe how mean you’d sounded considering that you’d normally been a pleasant person until senior year rolled around. But never had you really been in a situation that elicited quite the way you were acting in this moment. Whereas you’d normally bottle up the rude snarkniess that formed due to annoyance, you definitely weren’t holding it back now.

Jaehyun huffs, turning his back to you, before grabbing the girl’s hand and walking towards you. You side step, allowing space for them to pass, and didn’t fail to notice the scowl he aims at you while the girl shyly opts to look elsewhere until they were out of your line of sight.

Not about to waste another precious second of your daily rest, you settle into your comfy spot and stuff the white earbuds in place before hitting ‘shuffle’ and finally letting your eyelids descend. A deep sigh falls from your chest as sleep overcomes you until the alarm you’d set on your phone blared into your ears, signaling that it was time to take on the remainder of the day.

——————————

[October 13]

Tuesday morning passes rather quickly before you hear the glorious ring of the lunch bell sound through the classroom. Before anyone has anytime to even attempt making contact with you, you are back in your resting place, with the thankfully empty space swallowing your exhausted form.

To your dismay, it is not long until you feel like another presence has entered the space, making your eyes open reluctantly. Once your vision focuses, you are met with the view of a handsome figure standing before you.

It was a bit of a shock, as no one had ever interrupted your slumber before, but your body was just too tired to provide any physical reaction. So you continue looking up at him, not doing or saying anything before you see his lips moving yet hearing no voice come out with it. You remove one earbud from its place and ask,

“Did you say something?”

He chuckes before repeating, “Hi, I’m Jaehyun.”

A little smile creeps onto his face, thinning out his lips, and revealing two deep dimples that makes your heart nearly erupt. But you shake the feeling away, knowing that just 24 hours prior, you’d seen this very same person in a compromising state in the very same spot you sat in now.

Caught up in your thoughts, he takes your silence as a sign for him to continue the conversation on his own.

“y/n, right?”

And before you can even reply, or nod, or give any indication that he was indeed correct, he’s taking a seat next to you, no doubt aware of how his actions make you visibly uncomfortable.

“What are you—?” You start, voice admittedly a bit shaky due to the fact you were almost in snoozeville just moments ago and there was now another body in such unexpectedly close proximity to yours.

“I gotta hand it to you, this is a nice little getaway you’ve got here.” He cuts you off, looking straight ahead while raising his arms to place his hands gently behind his head.

Turning to meet his eyes with yours, you realize again that you had been silent, and had just been staring at him for a solid 10 seconds. Perhaps he realizes this too, because when your eye contact lingers just a little too long, he noticeably blushes and clears his throat while facing forward again.

So it’s all an act, you think to yourself. In the single interaction you did have with Jaehyun, you had already formed an impression of him in your head that he was your standard ‘blessed-with-heavenly-looks player’ who’d let all the female attention get to his head, boosting his ego, self confidence, and all the qualities of your neighborhood fuckboy.

But the rosy stain on his cheeks, and the quick reddening of his ears made you think different. Maybe he wasn’t actually the person you’d created in your mind of him. And maybe, like you had thought, it was just him acting. So you venture out a little to inquire,

“So... why exactly are you here?”

“Well... uhm...” He keeps his head straight forward again, feeling your gaze burning deep into the side of his right cheek. Evidently all traces of the confident 17 year old boy who had originally approached you was fading fast.

“Because if you knew I use this place as a getaway, then you’d also know that me having a getaway means that I don’t intend on sharing it with others.” Your monotonous tone slightly echoing off the concrete surroundings.

Taking your statement as an attempt at playful banter, he responds in an equally playful way.

“No sharing? Even for me?” Letting the adorable dimples make a reappearance.

“I don’t know you.” You deadpan.

“But you do know me. I just introduced myself. I’m Jung Jaehyun. And I know you, you’re y/n.” He wraps his jacket tighter around his chest to block anymore cool air from getting in, and crosses him arms, stuffing his hands into the crooks of his armpits.

“Okay, but I don’t know know you.” You question to yourself why you were letting this rally of questions and responses continue, knowing full and well that it was cutting into your beloved nap time. Making your priorities shift back to your original reason for being under the stairs in the first place you add,

“And I really don’t care about knowing you. All I care about is that before you came here, I was on the express train to dreamland. But now that you are here...” You don’t finish the sentence because you realize that would mean you admit to his presence having some kind of affect on you.

“Oh, so me being here really bothers you that much? I wonder why.” The smirk clear on his face yet again makes your irritance bubble over. He raises an eyebrow at you and moves his face impossibly closer to your own.

Scoffing at his implication, despite it being true, you shove your left earbud back into place and say,

“I don’t care what you do. Just don’t bother me when I’m trying to sleep. I already have enough things in my life doing that, and I don’t need you to be doing it too.”

With that you close your eyes again, leaning your head against the concrete hoping that there’s still enough time to at least get a good REM session in.

The slow beat of your music drowns your mind and lulls you back, but not before you hear Jaehyun negotiate,

“Ok, I won’t bother you. But only if I get to nap here too.” You feel him shift a bit in place before he too settles into a comfortable position and begins to doze off.

Eventually you do find yourself falling asleep, but it feels like less than five minutes later when the phone alarm goes off, jolting you awake. At first, you are unaware of the heavy head that rests on your left shoulder. But when you do notice it, you can’t help the warm feeling that washes over you as you peer down at the soft pale face snoring lightly against you.

Then the school bell rings, and you think that Jaehyun may stir from that, removing the heavily growing weight off of you. But he doesn’t. He keeps his head there, and continues to snore away softly.

Conflicted about what to do, you think about the best way to wake him up that would result in the least amount of embarrassment for the both of you. But soon enough, you begin to hear voices and footsteps ascending and descending the staircase above. And you know that if you don’t leave now, you may not make it to your next class on the fifth floor in the building that has no elevators.

So rather than from a decision of reasoning, but from a decision of panic, you quickly stand, letting Jaehyun’s unconscious body fall to the ground.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Covering your mouth after realizing what you’d just done. You extend your hands to reach down and help, but he’s already standing up and cupping the shoulder that he not-so-graciously fell on.

“It’s all good.” He says in his sleep jaded voice.

You almost swoon at the raspiness of his low timbre, but again choose to not let it show. You opt to check your lock screen, and face it to Jaehyun to show him the time.

“We have four minutes to get to class.”

He squints at your phone screen before clearing his throat and replying, “Okay.”

“Okay...” you return, “bye then.” Unsure how you should depart from this situation you decide to make it quick and painless, before briskly walking away.

Still in earshot, Jaehyun asks, “So I’ll see you around?”

You don’t stop when you call back to him, “Maybe.”

—————————

The next couple days go by somewhat normally.

Except when you were just about to succumb to the sleep you desparately needed on Wednesday, Jaehyun wordlessly sat himself next to you like he had done the previous day, and seemed to mimic your actions. You both woke up at the sound of your phone alarm and preceded to your classes without so much as a goodbye.

Thursday lunch came, and you were surprised to be greeted with an already sleeping Jaehyun sitting atop a dark blue blanket covering the cold concrete. You admired the way his chest gently rose and fell at a steady pace, and how his milky complexion looked so contempt despite the frown it adorned. Something else you noticed was that there was a space to the right of Jaehyun on the blanket under him. Almost as if he had intentionally made room for you to join him on it.

Going against what you’d assumed what the space was meant for, you chose to sit further in a corner away from him in case he didn’t actually intend to leave that space for you. Because if you did sit there, and he didn’t expect you to be there when he woke up, it really would be quite the embarrassment on your part.

So again, you fall asleep without exchanging words, and leave as soon as the bell shrills a warning for you to begin your five flight ascent.

——————————

Once Friday rolls around, you forget about Jaehyun and your nappy time. Because instead, you have to lead a meeting for one of your volunteer clubs and you had stayed up the whole previous night preparing for it. It didn’t help that all morning you were running around campus making copies of event sign-up sheets and getting signatures from the club advisor.

So when Jaehyun wakes up to the sound of ringing echoing off the walls, he finds himself disappointed that you didn’t show. And due to the busy last 24-hours you had, the possibility of of a frown on his face when he fails to find yours next to him never even crosses your mind.

It is later in the day, when you are grabbing your gym bag from your locker, that you’re startled by a face appearing once your locker door is shut. You hadn’t heard him come up to you thanks to the earbuds that seemed to constantly occupy your small sound receivers. But Jaehyun’s puppy-like features are suddenly next to you, and out comes a little stumble back with a quiet gasp escaping your lips.

After collecting your composure, you take out the left earbud again.

“Jeez, you scared me.” You say, bringing a hand to touch over your heart.

He chuckles, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” and scratches the back of his head while retreating a little to give you some space. “I just...well...you weren’t there today...”

A bit confused at the vagueness of his sentence, it takes you a moment before you realize the meaning behind it. Your eyes widen at him and then hastily look away.

“Oh... yeah... I had a meeting today, so I couldn’t nap at lunch like ususal...” You grab at the strap of your gym bag and give it a squeeze, not making eye contact with the figure looking down at you almost as if you had committed a crime against him and you felt guilty about it. But why? It’s not like you had an obligation to show up... right?

a/n: So that’s it for now. I’ve had this in my drafts for like a month and idk what to do with it anymore so I’d really like some feedback! I’m not even sure if I did this plot line justice or if readers are even interested in this plot line so yeah. Maybe if people are interested, I’d consider making this a series? But pls let me know! Thanks! -jewel

[thymesisandpsyche]

Sutures

This my gift to you, @tenacioussheepalpaca! I am your secret santa! I hope you like it!

Read it on AO3

Note: I occasionally used non-gendered pronouns here, as some parts of the story was told from Levi’s perspective.

Tags: action, romance, some fluff, some gore

Summary:

This is the 24th expedition beyond the walls.

Levi discovers something about Hange, and it made him uneasy.

It was way past noon. Everything was turning gold, as the Sun showers its rays everywhere. The sky began to boast its bright yellow and orange hues. Shadows began to appear, as the day approaches its end. The wind, caressing the rustling leaves, began to get colder.

It was such a picturesque afternoon, except for the fact that the Survey Corps is amid their 24th expedition beyond the walls.

Indeed, it was way past noon. Everyone was soaked in red, as titans and humans alike have shed their blood. The sky began to show dimmer radiance. Tears began to stream down, as some lives approach their end. The soldiers, trying to hold their fallen comrades for the last time, began to prepare for departure.

It was such a solemn and mournful afternoon, except for the fact that the Survey Corps overlooked one thing. Just when everyone was ready to depart, loud gigantic footsteps were heard approaching them – accompanied with a loud, grumbling noise.

“Everyone! Evacuate this area immediately!”

The source of the noise was not yet near, but everyone could see that it was a titan of the 14-meter class.

Almost everyone already left their post.

“Hange-hanchou! We need to go!”

“No, Moblit. THIS IS OUR CHANCE! Everyone, remember the contingency plan we were talking about?”

Only a few seconds passed, but the thuds were getting louder. Squad Hange members began to move to their posts, the ones specified in their plan. Nonetheless, the titan sighted was too quick.

“Aaaah… I did not expect this. Could this be… an aberrant?”

As soon as Hange realized this, she told her squad to join the other squads in departing the area. Their contingency plan was to observe the titan’s behavior from afar, with someone highly skilled with 3D maneuvering serving as the bait. However, Hange deemed the plan impossible since the titan was an aberrant.

“But maybe we can get something out of this if I do the observation myself.” Hange thought, while glancing at the squad members who were getting farther and farther away.

Hange intended to not move and wait for the titan to see that there’s one human remaining in the area. Then, Hange would lead it to the forest where 3D maneuver gear will be of use. Through observation, the mechanics of titan limb movement will be studied which could help them revise the corps training.

Hange already calculated the risks and was prepared for them – except that the titan at hand was an abnormal. However, humanity still have so much to learn about these titans, as these are unpredictable.

“Regardless of the risks, this observation will introduce humanity to more possibilities about titans. I can do this.” Hange thought.

Unexpectedly, the titan about 100 meters from Hange sprinted as soon as it saw the soldier. If ample preparations were not done, the titan could have succeeded in grabbing Hange. The evasion from the aberrant titan was successful, and Hange was able to retreat to the forest. Unbeknownst to Hange, another soldier returned in time and followed her.

“Hange!” Levi called, as he joined in the chase.

The two soldiers were moving from one tree to another, holding on through the harness of their maneuver gear.

“Levi?” Hange said, while being perplexed at Levi’s sudden arrival. “What brings you here?”

“That’s what I want to ask you, Four-eyes. We need to leave. The others are already too far from us.”

“I’m acquiring information. This one’s a rare case.” Hange said, encouraging Levi to join the observation.

“No way in hell. I’m getting you. Now.” Levi stressed.

“NO! I desperately need it! If you’re that eager to go, JUST LEAVE ME!” Gasping, Hange continued maneuvering.

Levi reasoned, “Don’t be stupid! It’s just the two of us, it’s fucking dusk, and there’s a damn aberrant chasing us. What a nice way to get information.”

“I can take care of myself, damn it!” Hange asserted.

The moment the aberrant titan’s sight flashed in Hange’s vision, she tried evading it but her reaction time was not enough. Hange was grabbed, but not eaten yet – as she was dragged to a tree. This wounded Hange as a result of crashing to a huge branch.

Levi managed to kill the titan. He saw Hange lying on the ground – trembling.

The Sun was about to set. The wind which was rustling the leaves of nearby trees began to get unusually colder.

As Levi kneeled to aid Hange, he saw blood gushing from his companion’s abdomen. Hange managed to wrap the bandages around the wounds quickly while chasing their own breath.

Levi thought three things: first, he realized that his companion was trembling due to blood loss. Thus, he needs to stop the bleeding as soon as possible. Second, since Hange was soaked in their own blood, they got dirty as mud stuck to their body – and he needs to clean up the dirt as soon as possible. Third, they are in an open area and the Sun was setting. This means that titans would be inactive throughout the night, as it was a new moon. All he needed to do is to set an emergency camp and look for the Survey Corps as soon as Hange rested enough.

Then, the rain started to fall.

Fucking rain.

Levi managed to call his horse, Elgenhein back. Nonetheless, there was no trace of Hange’s horse. He quickly set the emergency tent.

Without energy left, Hange called out, “L-Levi.”

“Hange!”

“C-call Moppel. S-she’s a smart…and a strong…horse.”

“Got it. But try to talk less. You’re still bleeding.” Levi was checking the extent of Hange’s wounds. At that moment, Hange was still bleeding.

“Three dashes…three dots…three dashes…”

Although Levi was being careful with handling Hange, he accidentally bumped his elbow with Hange’s right chest. The wounded soldier hissed hard.

“Ugh – that… hah… hurt…”

“Tch. This is what you get for saving your research over yourself.”

“My research…hah… you know it’s uh…important, right?”

Levi did not respond. He was preparing the bandages and other things needed to close Hange’s wound. He took off his coat and spread it neatly on the ground. He carried Hange carefully and gently brought the soldier on the ground, just where he spread his coat. He’ll have to save calling Moppel back for later.

“I’m…sorry. I think you need to… hah…do the stitches… yourself. Can you… do it?”

“I was just preparing for it. Don’t talk too much, Four-eyes.” Levi assured, while holding Hange’s forehead.

Hange was losing consciousness.

“Stay awake, don’t sleep!”

Levi removed Hange’s cloak, then their upper brown jacket. He neatly folded the clothing and placed them beside Hange.

“Levi?”

“What?”

Hange hesitated to speak. “Huuh… I guess… formalities and such…aren’t needed in situations…where we’re about to die.”

FUCKING BLOOD EVERYWHERE.

“What the heck are you talking about?”

Hange was half-awake and was responding through hums and incoherent words. Nonetheless, the soldier was still holding on the buttons of their yellow polo soaked in blood.

“Four eyes. I understand that this is painful. Try holding on to something else.”

Levi released Hange’s grip from the buttons of the yellow polo, and placed their hand on his neatly spread coat on one side and Hange’s folded coat on the other side. He brought out an extra clean cloth from his expedition pack, rolled it and placed it on Hange’s mouth.

“This is going to hurt, so scream all you want. Hold on tightly if you need to. Got me?”

Since Hange was getting weaker, Levi heard no response. He just saw that his companion shut their eyes tightly and took it as a signal to begin with the sutures.

He began unbuttoning Hange’s polo, one-by-one.

He tried removing the several layers of cloth around Hange’s chest. When he was about to clean the large, open wound, Levi realized something.

Hange Zoe is a fucking woman.

But – fuck! This is not important right now. A damn woman is lying helplessly in front of him, wounded. He can think about Hange being a woman later. What’s more important is to close her wounds first.

He used a blanket to cover Hange while cleaning her wound. Then, he made sure he did the stitches right – slowly but firmly, each interval consistent and close enough to close the wound. He was particularly careful with handling Hange’s flesh.

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

“Hange-san, you’re as meticulous as always! Your sutures were properly done, and they looked like they were rigorously cleaned before suturing” The nurse greeted Hange, realizing that she had woken up.

“Aaah… But this time, I wasn’t the one who did the stitching. It was someone else.” 

Hange continued, “Which reminds me, have you seen Levi around?”

“Hmmm… Levi-san, the strong thug who made it back last expedition?”

Hange just smiled.

“No, I’m not referring to the thug, I was referring to Levi, that unbelievably strong and thoughtful soldier. He was with me throughout the expedition… I guess.”

The nurse did not understand what Hange meant, nonetheless, she replied: “I often see him here since the time you guys came back from the expedition. Looked like he was checking on you.”

Hange got worried. The last time she saw Levi, he was soaked in blood, too.

“Hey, can I go back to my quarters now? I think I can walk now.”

“Can you stand on your own now, hanchou?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m quick to recover, you know. I think I need some air, too.”

“Okay, just see me if your wounds swell.”

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

Hange knocked at the door of Levi’s quarters two times.

“Levi? You here?”

No one was answering. No one was opening the door.

“Levi?”

A soldier was passing by and saw Hange. 

“Hange-san, I think he’s at the balcony. These past few days, he is often seen there.”

As she heard the soldier, Hange hurried to the balcony.

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

“Levi?”

She saw the man sitting by the edge of the wall, his legs hanging on the other side. When he turned his head to look at Hange, his eyes widened a bit. If it weren’t Hange, this gesture would not be noticed at all.

“Don’t worry, Levi! I’ve escaped death a hundred times already! Ha-ha.” Hange greeted, as she joined Levi.

“Hange.” Levi retorted, and looked at Hange with sharp eyes.

“Ahhh, sorry, sorry. I exaggerated a bit. Maybe it’s just a couple of times. Aaaaah, it’s getting cold.”

“Aren’t you gonna rest?”

“No, I wanted to see the stars, too. You’ve been hoarding such a beautiful sight.”

Levi took off his upper jacket and draped it over Hange’s shoulders.

“Aaahh… Ha-ha.” Hange was flustered.

“What?”

“These moments remind me of how human I am.” She explained, while looking down.

“Hm.” Levi responded.

Then, Hange continued, “…that…although we’re in military, I can still be treated like this. Aaaah what’s this? It’s cold, but my face feels hot.”

And her chest was pounding wildly too.

“You need to take more care of your damn self.” Levi replied.

“But I tried to be careful as much as I could.”

“That’s why I said you need to do it more.”

Hange smiled. At last, she found someone who understands. She found someone who will support her.

“Levi, I haven’t thanked you yet.”

“For what?” Levi replied.

“For going back for me... during the expedition. For doing the sutures by yourself... for bringing me back to safety... and for checking me if I’m alright.”

Levi turned away. He did not reply for a moment.

“You’re really kind, Levi. I hope others will get to see this side of yours, too.” Hange added.

“That research of yours,” Levi finally faced Hange, and looked straight to her eyes. “Count me in. Do not do everything by yourself.”

“I’m counting on you, then.”

[iammarylastar]

2. Back to my feet.

I woke up the next morning, it seems I’ve been out around the clock. I’m alone in my room, sprawled in the middle of the mess I left, a solid headache knocking at my eyelids.

Mikomi, my rock, my lifeline left me. I deserved it. I hurt her. I frightened her.

The door unexpectedly opens on Sensei, Mikomi’s father and the leader of the village. His face is closed as fuck and he barks orders at me, which I don’t understand. He’s not Mikomi, her voice is always clear and soft, her Japanese simple and slowly uttered.

I do my best to quickly sit up, join my hands together and bow my head in respect. He looks clearly pissed off, I assume by my  tantrum and I can’t have him mad at me or he would chop me in pieces with his katana.

Mikomi appears, padding in smoothly like she floats above the floor. She kneels down before me, her gaze at my feet, where she places a pile of clothes and a bowl of water. Before I can speak she disappears again, to be back instantly with what I assume be shaving items and a mirror.

I quickly grab her wrist and whisper her name but she keeps her eyes away from me.

“I owe you an apologize for what happened. I.. I don’t know, I’m still confused. I… Just lost my mind. I’m sorry.”

She gently pushes my hand back and says under her breath “I can’t talk to you now. Please clean up and shave. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

The door slides shut, leaving me all by myself again.

I grab the mirror and study my reflection. Jesus I’m a waste, Sensei said something about a pig, yeah that’s me.

My hair has grown monstrous, no trace left of the clean military cut. Wild, disheveled curls twist on my scalp, traces of vomit coat my beard. I stink, like sweat and urine, I must have pissed myself while passing out.

The Japanese value cleanness as a mark of respect to the others and to yourself. I look more like a homeless, sick bear than a human, without Mikomi to care for me. I’m not Cup anymore. Gaijin fits better, I’m a stranger to my own self.

I take off the wasted hakama , those large black Japanese pants and start to clean myself up, taking stock of my body for the first time in months.

My leg looks great, light red and swollen at the foot -thanks to my little stunt I guess- , the scars are clean and neat, Mikomi has done an excellent work. As usual.

The skin of my chest look nice as well, I realize it doesn’t hurt anymore. I wash my body, face and hair, shave and cut them the best I can by myself, then clean the pants in the bowl. I gather the cut hair, clean up what’s left from my mess on the floor, tied the bamboo splinter back on my leg, tied up the new kimono and find a somewhat comfortable seated position and just wait.

I wait for what seems hours. Time for me to gather my thoughts and my strength, put myself together and stop being such a whiny bitch.

Holy shit, how lame of a soldier I’ve been, weak and crying like a baby, Angie would have laughed at me and kicked my ass.

“Stop braiding daisies, Softie. I’m waiting for you!”

Fuck you’re right honey. Let’s go, let’s do this. Let’s be a man again, let’s fight for what I lost. From now on, I promise I’ll fight to have you back, Angie, you and our baby. I’ve cleaned my mess. I’m ready.

As if he’s heard me loud and clear, Sensei enters the room, checks me out from head to toes,  then nods, satisfied.

“Yoi. Keiko. Ashita.”

God help me. He just said I’m starting work out tomorrow. He’s gonna kick the shit out of me.

****

My new daily routine is hell. I’m woken up by a gong, calling Sensei and his disciples for an early meditation. I’m not attending, not yet but I’m sure my turn will come.

Fucking land of the rising sun, the day starts at 4 a.m. and I can’t go back to sleep. 5.30 a.m. sharp: Mikomi arrives, resplendent in her flowery kimono, places a solid breakfast on my lap and leaves without a word. I’m sure she’s still mad at me about my behaviour during that nightmare. Or Sensei forbade her from talking to me. Anyway, I miss her so badly. I eat alone, but nonetheless do my best to respect the rules of the art of entertaining.

Mikomi appears again the second I put my hashi  down, and leaves again just as fast.

Then the Master stands before me, ready to break me in pieces. Mikomi’s cares were so sweet compared to this monster of poise.

His strong fingers destroy my leg as he massages, mobilizes, and stretches it. I miss the needles Mikomi used for acupuncture, they felt like honey and I want them back. Instead big iron hands bluntly and mercilessly press on those fucking points, eliciting hisses and grunts from me. At first. Each time I’m complaining, Sensei whips me with a wooden stick, hard as fuck.

“Kurusai!” is the only word he knows, which you can translate into “Quiet!” if you’re in a good mood, or more likely “shut the fuck up!” in my case.

I’ve quickly learnt to hold back my screams and squeeze my fists as tight as my lips. I undergo his torture in a perfect Japanese style.

He instructs me to bulk up my arms so I can use the crutches properly. I spend the rest of the morning to eat my daily dose of home made weight lifting, jars of water or sandbags, and a shitload of push ups, my bad leg resting on my other calf.

Around noon, about a second before I pass out, my sweetheart Mikomi brings me a bowl of water and a bowl of soup with noodles and vegetables, or rice and unknown mushrooms.

First I clean myself up, then eat properly. In no time I collapse for a solid nap, before Sensei whipes me for the next torture.

The afternoon is dedicated to training to be back on my feet. My back is wrapped in a brace, so tight I can barely breathe but at least it stops hurting.

Day one was hard, really hard but Mikomi was there and it gave me strength. Holding back my grunts, I grabbed the iron hand Sensei held me out and stood up on my feet. Up on my two feet. FUCK I was standing up on my feet again. Ignoring the huge smile taped on my face, Sensei handed me a pair of wooden crutches and just left.

But Mikomi stayed. She was my sole goal. Go, Yankee, walk up to that beautiful doll.

I clumsily stumble, like a newborn deer, but my feet moved me forward, my hands firmly clawing at the clutches. FUCK! After months in bed, I was finally dragging myself to the other side of the room. Ha!

Exhilarated, I kept walking towards my Japanese sweetheart, her smile gave me enough strength to stay balanced.

“You made it Gaijin!” She finally spoke, breaking days of silence.

I’m so happy I could cry, but the shadow of Sensei’s whip kept my tears at bay.

“Iwai!” She congratulated me. Yeah I deserved it.

I couldn’t help but bend down and kissed her cheek, hugging her small features with one arm.

“Arigato Mikomi!”

She shyly blushed and sneaked out of my embrace and padded away.

“Follow me.” She whispered.

I somehow followed her steps that lead me outside. I’ve been stuck in that room for months, that day was my first time outside. And it really was worth the efforts.

The view was just breathtaking. Jesus, beauty was everywhere. Cherry blossom trees, traditional Japanese houses, temples, pines, bonzaïs, carps swimming in little pools, paper lanterns, rice paddies hung on the hillside, the ocean in the distance. The scents, delicate like so many fragrances. The sun, kissing my skin. The air, pure and fresh, filling my lungs. Mikomi, shining in the daylight, so proud of me. This place looked like Heaven.

The end of the day is my favourite. Japan is a treasure, the temple of millennarial arts. Sensei introduces me to each of them. Penmanship and kanji. Martial arts and the art of war. Fengshui and shiatsu. Samuraïs and katanas. Everything meticulously and flawlessly executed, from the way you cook and eat food to the way you tied up your kimono. Japan manners means perfection. Hence the billion of rules that dominate the daily life. Hence Mikomi.

It didn’t last long since Sensei noticed my lack in Japanese. I can tell he was impressed by my progresses both physically and mentally. He was touched by my interest in his culture and as how I got involved in the life of the village.

He quickly asked Mikomi to serve as a translator for all the lessons he taught me. Which was a delight. Which still is.

My handwriting is shit and I’ve a hard time staying still on the zafu while meditating but beside that, I’m making huge progress.

I follow Mikomi like I’m her shadow, we’re getting close again. I mean, we chat, we laugh, she walks with me to the bathhouse where I can walk and train my leg easier, in the hot water from the waist down. I noticed the way she got lost, her eyes wandering across my bare chest, but since I had the nightmare, I’ve only eyes for Angie. At least the distant memory I have left of my angel. The truth is I’m not sure about my feelings for her, all I know is I need her by my side. To keep going. She’s my hope.

After a pretty short time using my crutches and thanks to all the work out and sweet torture Sensei forced me in, I’ve been able to walk on my own. As I’ve become more capable, I started to take part in the village’s life and participate to the shores. People were shy and suspicious as first, but by the time I was able to walk out from Sensei’s house, we all got to know each other. I was not a Gaijin anymore even if they’ve kept calling me so.

Children found in me their main attraction. My sunkissed skin was still the lightest they’ve ever seen and my blond curls and blue eyes were considered as the utmost curiosity. They’ve only known almond shaped black eyes and straight hair. I became their favorite fairy wheel, and quickly replaced the jars I lifted every day.with eager children. I did weight lifting with a child taped on each hand, then walked miles with one kid wrapped around each leg, another on my back. The whole thing have them laughing so hard, their parents politely smirked when I passed their homes, children packed as a donkey. Even Sensei smiled at me, calling me silly.

After just witnessing men practicing martial art, my turn comes and I now am a decent fighter. I help every day to harvest rice, fruits and vegetables, fix houses and fences, even cook with Mikomi, which have Sensei pulling his hair out, some things being strictly reserved to women. I practice meditation at sunrise, go the the temple and pray, mostly for having Angie back. I enjoy the show of women dancing with ushiwa, the Japanese fan, sipping black tea with Sensei, while he keeps teaching me about life.

The only task I suck at is milking cows. Definitely not my cup of tea.

Days passed, this peaceful and quiet daily life fits me. Heals me. I nonetheless have noticed Mikomi’s mood slightly changing, her eyes sometimes red from crying at night, and all I got when asking her the reason was deep silence.

I talk to her friends but no one can help me understand. I should have suspected what has happened, I should have known she is in love with me. I suddenly realize I’ve known about that, from the very beginning. I’ve been fucking selfish, too focused on recovering, dreaming of Angie, praying to have her back. Getting back to her.

My dickhead self has just used her, ignoring my own feelings, ignoring hers, killing her hope to keep mine alive.

Hope. Mikomi in Japanese. Fuck. How could I have been so blind?

I have been blind but Sensei hasn’t. The wise man knew. The Master just knows.

One day, not different from the previous one, he just walked to me and stated.

“ Time for you to leave. Mikomi has to marry someone from her clan and you have to go back to your wife. You’re a good man Gaijin but you can’t stay.”

I nod my head. He’s right. It’s time.

**

Two days later, I’m ready. I packed all my stuff in a traditional bundle, along with enough food to survive during my first trip.

I said goodbye to the whole village, everyone had a little gift for me, mostly food and handwritten prayers for my safety. As an educated gentleman, I received each present within both my hands, bend down slightly in respect and whispered thank you in the best Japanese I could.

Chan and Zhou are in charge with walking me to the nearest pier down the hill, they’re just waiting for me to be ready to leave, impassible.

“Sensei, there’s no words strong enough to express my gratitude. You saved my life, you healed me, you kicked the shit out of me so I can stand up again, as a proud man.”

I glance at Mikomi who just blushes slightly. She offered to translate my words to her father but I’m giving her a hard time. Swearing before a sensei could have you struck down, and giving importance to someone extremely inappropriate. But I know she’ll manage it. She always has.

“I owe you Sensei.” Before I bend down as low as I can to show him my deepest respect, I notice a glimpse of emotion in his eyes, which is like a declaration of love here.

I stay bowed, waiting for his benediction, waiting for my own emotions to pass.

Sensei starts the traditional prayer to the ancestors, asking them to keep the voyageur safe and as I’m overcome by his wisdom and benevolence, I feel his hand on the top of my head. Which is not supposed to happen.

My throat tightens and I force myself to slowly breathe out, stopping the tears that threaten to appear.

It’s a great honour to have Sensei praying for you, and you have to behave as well, as a brave man. Any gesture of affection can be shown, but with one of your kids, it could be mistaken for weakness.

Weak, that’s exactly how my knees feel while he pronounces the last words. Instead of calling me Gaijin, stranger, he said musuko-san , son.

Oh God, how blessed I am.

My eyes meet his, my heart speaks through them: Domo arigato gozaimasu, gratitude Sensei.

Mikomi has left her father’s side, where has she gone? As hard as it’s going to be, I can’t leave without telling her goodbye.

I spot her slim features, beside the crowd. Another weird strict rule here: do not show your emotions, especially your tears. She’s alone with her tears and her sorrow.

Silent steps lead me to her, in the shadow of a cherry blossom tree.

I stroke her neck and feel her shiver but she doesn’t budge, her back to me, shaken by unsteady sobs.

“Mikomi… I have to go…” my voice trembles as my throat tightens. There’s so much things I want, I need to tell her, but Im running out of time. And of words.

“Ikanaide kudasai” she whines, likes she’s drowning.

I sigh heavily. I knew it’s going to be hard, but it’s looking impossible.

“Look at me.” I gently turn her so she faces me, but she keeps her gaze on the  ground.

“Haanii…” I lift up her chin and search for her eyes. “Sweetheart. You know I can’t stay.”

She closes her eyes, tears lazily trailing slowly down her cheeks.

“Did I do something wrong?” She asks, hardly hiding her cries.

“ No please, Mikomi, don’t think that way. You mean so much to me, I couldn’t have made it without you. You know how much I care. I love you Mikomi, but not that way…” It breaks my heart to break hers.

The truth is I love her, with all my heart. She saved me, in all the ways a man can be saved. I love her more than a friend, more than a sister but there’s only one woman I want, one who stole my heart and my soul.

“I know. Not like her…” She averts her eyes from me, biting her lips to keep them from trembling so hard.

“I’m so sorry.” Oh God I’m so sorry.

“Don’t be. I’m blessed to have met you.” She buries her sweet face into my chest and lets it go, desperately clawing against me. I wrap my arms around her and hug her as tightly as I can. She’s been my rock, my hope, my mother, my Sun for the last 9 months. How could I live without her by my side?

Slowly, she pulls back and lifts her soaked eyes to meet mine. I’m sure she can read the deepest sadness in them. “I’ll miss you Cup.” She whispers.

Cupping her face in my palms, I thumb the tears that keep flowing down her cheeks. Before I break down and burst into tears myself, I bend down and gently kiss her lips. A long, fierce, heartfelt farewell kiss. That’s the least I could do for her.

“I’ll never forget you.” I swear I never will.

Melting into my palm, Mikomi runs her fingers along my wrist and trails few kisses on my skin. Fresh kanji, the Japanese ideograms sit there, inked in my flesh forever. Marks of the new life that has started here. Pleas for the life that’s waiting for me across the Pond. 見込み. Mikomi. Hope. Hope, I’ll need you.

It’s so hard to let her go, but I really have to leave or I will faint.

A last glance at Sensei, a nod to Chan and Zhou, a last squeeze on her hand and I turn around and just walk away.

Angie. Angie is waiting for me somewhere. I hope so.

Next step: America.

@dreamersdreamlife @narfea @smartieblue22 @bookgirlsthing

@kenzieam

@every-jai

@captstefanbrandt

@jojuarez26

@kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995

@athe-krieger-der-elemente

@red-diary

@writingismyhappytime

@lunaschild2016

@bookgirlsthing

@wolfie-132 @bookwarm85 @smartieblue22 @knittingmad

@pinkplanetnicki

@cry-baby-92 @iago-of-denmark @captainkagtopia

@serride

@pauwa85

@books-and-sin

@onceinabillionlifetimes @sajess98 @carlos8989

[artificialqueens]

Star Power Over Me - Part Two (Vixie/Trixya) - Pilandok

AN: Okay a few things: 1) part two ended up being much longer than I thought so I halfed it. 2) Katya isn’t here yet (kinda) but she will appear. 3) First time writing drag race fanfiction, experimenting w/ pronouns– ended up writing them as he out of drag and she in drag so it changes, whatever. 4) Smut-ish again? I don’t know why this keeps happening. 5) All lyrics that aren’t “Star Power” by Sonic Youth are mine. Thank you for reading.

Part One.

Trixie is surprisingly casual about everything. Violet was half-expecting that when the alcohol has seeped out of their system, Trixie was going to start freaking out about their morally dubious actions. Unexpectedly, however, and Violet wakes up to an empty bed and a note on the table.

Early flight today, sorry I can’t hang. Love you bitch. Xoxo T.

His handwriting is a lot less legible than Violet expected it to be. After reading the note, he takes a moment to gather his things before starting his journey back to his own hotel room. Practically stumbling out of the door, Violet isn’t exactly hung over, it’s just that he’s not a morning person at all; he prefers to start functioning at noon. He spots Trixie in the hallway, a few paces from the door, talking on the phone. For his part, Trixie doesn’t look hungover at all, not even a little tired.

                 “Yeah, yeah. I’m about to leave, yeah. I’ll be there on time, don’t worry.” Trixie looks up and sees Violet and smiles, he makes a gesture with his hand, telling Violet to wait for him. Violet nods groggily, rubbing his eyes. He waits for Trixie to finish his call but he isn’t sure exactly why or what for. The time of his phone reads 8:13 AM.

                 “Hey sorry,” Trixie apologizes when he walks over to Violet, “I have an early flight.”

                 “Mhm,” Violet answers, still not fully aware of his surroundings. Trixie appears to be amused at this.

                 “Here,” Trixie hands him his half-finished cup of coffee, “I drank some already but it’s still warm and you look like you could use some.”

Violet accepts the cup from Trixie and takes a sip. It seems to take effect immediately and he wakes up little. He stares at Trixie and wonders what he should say.

                 “Have a good flight,” he settles.

                 “I will. Go get some rest already, you look like you really need it,” Trixie says playfully.

                 “Don’t be rude,” Violet grumbles. Trixie laughs and leans in to kiss him on the cheek.

                 “See you, bitch.” Trixie leaves for the elevator down the hall and Violet watches him until he turns the corner. Violet then continues his trek back to his room, calculating how many hours of sleep he can get before he has to get ready to leave.

—

After the incident, Trixie and Violet haven’t given much thought to the night they shared together, chalking it up as another weird incident in the string of bizarre events that is a drag queen’s life. Stranger things have happened. And of the sexual encounters they’ve had, this one wasn’t half bad. It was pretty good, in fact, a lot better than they imagined. Their relationship with each other hasn’t changed, however, rarely communicating aside from the occasional interaction on social media. Weeks pass and Trixie and Violet have all but forgotten about that night. It wasn’t until a month later that Trixie and Violet see each other again. It was on a Drag Race night in a club in LA, which means they’ve booked a few Ru girls along with usual array of local queens, hoping to get more traction in their scene.

Trixie and Violet have finished their number and are in the dressing room, waiting for the call to do the meet and greets. The club provided them with cocktails and both queens accepted them graciously, situating themselves on the couch in the dressing room with their legs tucked underneath them a la Untucked. They spend the first few minutes reenacting iconic incidents from the series before falling into an easy conversation teetering towards flirtation. Halfway through the drinks, Trixie realizes that they have been unconsciously closing the gap between them with every burst of laughter and the lingering of an innocent touch. The other queens weaving in and out of the dressing room eyes them with tepid suspicion and Trixie’s not sure if she has been noticing this, choosing ultimately to brush off the stares. Violet appears to be completely oblivious and swings her legs over Trixie’s lap.

“I think one of your balls is about to pop out,” Trixie comments, pretending to take a peek.

Violet slaps her shoulder lightly, “Nothing you haven’t put in your mouth before, bitch.”

“Don’t be gross,” Trixie answers, her screaming laughter echoing in the dressing room.

“Oh my god can’t you laugh like a normal person? You, your psycho scream is fucking— “

Violet is interrupted by a loud creak of the door. “Well well well, who do we have here?” Jinkx interrupts having just entered the room. She closes the door behind her slowly. “Why, isn’t it RuPaul’s Drag Race season 7 winner Violet Chachki,” she takes a small bow towards Violet then turns to Trixie, “… and All Stars 3 winner, I suppose?”

Trixie smiles meaningfully and shakes her head, not giving anything away.

“Aww, not even a tiny hint?” Jinkx pouts.

Trixie tilts her head slightly in mock-consideration, “Well…”

“Ahh! Don’t tell me,” Violet presses her hands over her ears, “No spoilers!”

“Sorry, Jinkx,” Trixie smiles at her apologetically, “you heard the lady.”

“Boo,” she answered, plopping herself down beside the pair on the couch. She pulls out a joint and a lighter from her bra which Trixie and Violet watches with wonderment. She winks at them before lighting the joint and taking a long drag from it. She offers it to them.

“No thank you,” Trixie declines.

Violet takes up the offer, however, and inhales deeply, looking straight at Trixie. She holds the smoke in for an extra moment before parting her lips slightly to let the smoke ascend on its own. Trixie doesn’t look away. Violet hands the blunt to Trixie who looks at it warily and sighs, takes a hit of her own.

Jinkx observes this interaction with great interest. When she’s handed back the joint, she holds it between her middle and index finger like a cigarette. “The youth… is wasted on the young,” she begins dramatically, “oh why must the universe inflict upon us such cruel ironies? When I see you two young, beautiful ladies,” she continues, turning to the pair, “flirting without consequence, the bubbling sexual tension not a premonition for troubles to come… oh to be young! If only this aging carafe can receive a taste of young flesh once more.” She lets the dramatic silence fall over all of them.

“Jinkx, you’re like two years older than me,” Trixie deadpans. Jinkx begins to stage-weep melodramatically. Violet looks at her, perplexed, Trixie tells her, “forget it, once she gets into character, we can’t do anything about it.”

“Time, the merciless mother of us all!” she starts again. “Only a kiss from the fountain of youth can bring these—”

“Jinkx.”

“—these wasted, decrepit, rickety bones— “

“Jinkx Monsoon.”

“—moldy, sagging, sinewy, discolored, putrid, decomposing—”

“Jinkx!”

“—only a— mmph”

Suddenly, Violet reaches over to grab Jinkx’ face and pulls her into a firm kiss.

“Oh my,” Jinkx reacts afterwards, she widens her eyes comically and covers her mouth with the tips of her fingers. She and Violet look at Trixie expectantly.

“Oh fuck it,” Trixie says then gives Jinkx a kiss too.

Jinkx burst into a maniacal cackle, “you fools!” Jinkx stands up and walks slowly around the room, “you’ve let me absorb your energy, I now have the power!”

Trixie and Violet roll their eyes, amused by Jinkx’s antics. They hear someone call them for the meet and greet and Trixie gets up to leave, she reaches out her hand to Violet she takes it. Jinkx is still in the middle of her spectacle and the two drag queens giggle at her as they exit the dressing room hand in hand.

The meet and greet is over soon enough and Trixie offers Violet a place to stay for the night. Both of them leave the club in full drag. Arriving at her apartment, Trixie heads straight to the shower, leaving Violet to pace awkwardly around her room. It isn’t a lot different from the other LA queens’ bedrooms, she notes, sparsely furnished, and still looking a little brand new. Various drag paraphernalia litters the room following a trail leading to what Violet guesses is a walk-in closet. The room also houses a few guitars and other unfamiliar folk instruments; on a table, sheets of papers are strewn with Trixie’s familiar handwriting. Violet makes an attempt to read them but the writing is even more illegible than before, but from what she can discern, Trixie is writing some new songs. The instruments along with the bright pink walls of the room makes Violet feel like she’s inside her Trixie brain, where both Trixie and Brian have learned to coexist.

Violet hears Trixie start singing in the shower.

“Work, work… mm… I am a professional, work…” she recognizes Shangela’s song and tries not to think too deeply if this counts as a spoiler. She walks towards the bathroom door and finds it unlocked. She lets herself in as Trixie switches to singing an unfamiliar folk song.

“Trixie,” she calls.

Trixie stops singing to respond, “Vi? Need anything?”

Violet doesn’t say anything, instead she removes the pink silk robe that Trixie lent her to cover up her usual burlesque drag. She has her own clothes but in the club Trixie and everyone else laughed at seeing her wear their robe because oh wow, baby pink does not suit you at all. You look like a grandma prostitute.Violet decided to humor them and kept it on. She hangs the robe on the hook then takes off her heels, stockings, corset, and the rest of her lingerie and lays it down carefully beside the sink. She pulls the shower curtain to the side and Trixie jumps in surprise, she was in the process of lathering her face with make-up remover.

“Jesus Christ. I’ve seen Psycho, Violet,” Trixie says then proceeds to rub her face.

“I’m not the one with the mug looking like a melting clown, bitch.”

Trixie lifts a middle finger to her and steps to the side, giving Violet space to climb in. Trixie turns on the shower to rinse her face. Violet borrows the make-up remover and starts working on her face.

“Fuck, bitch, are you trying to boil your skin off?” Violet comments at the temperature of the water. Trixie aims the showerhead at Violet and she squeals, cursing at Trixie who chuckles but turns the heat down. “Shit, I got some on my eye.” Violet reaches blindly for water and Trixie hands it to her so she can wash her face. Trixie eyes the water travelling on Violet’s body; from it splashing onto her face, sliding down to her chest, and falling between her legs. When Violet opens her eyes she sees Trixie, now completely make-up-free, looking at her with that same smile on his face. “What?”

“You’re so skinny,” he remarks.

“What?”

“Pretty and skinny.”

“What?”

“So pretty,” Trixie breathes.

Before he can say anything, Trixie pushes him against the wall and starts kissing him. Violet recoils against the cool tiles of the bathroom but pulls Trixie closer to him, responding hurriedly. He’s surprised at Trixie’s erection rubbing against his leg and it stimulates his own budding one. Trixie’s hands slide down from his neck, scratch his chest, and trace down his stomach. One wraps around Violet’s cock and begins tugging slightly, the other follows the shape of his ass and teases his asshole. Violet groans and pushes Trixie off. Trixie is horrified for a second, ready to race to an apology when Violet turns around and presses his ass against Trixie’s dick. Trixie feels a fire ignite in his gut, seeing Violet bent over in front of him, both hands on the wall to hold himself steady.

“Say it again,” Violet says tensely.

For a moment, Trixie is confused, but then a pleased grin slowly spreads on his face. He leans in to whisper, “you’re so skinny and you look so pretty.” He angles the tip of his penis against Violet’s entrance and hears Violet whimper. The sound sends pulses of pleasure to his erection. He gives himself a moment to be impressed by the animalistic desire that Violet Chachki’s whimpering ignites in him before leaning in again. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, pushing his cock inside.

—

                 Later that night, Violet, asleep on Trixie’s bed, stirs awake to the sound of a guitar being played. He squints and sees Trixie on the other side of the room hunched over the table, writing fervently with a guitar on his lap. He strums the guitar again.

                 “You ain’t quite the Barbie/ but you’re such a doll/ Should I spoil myself with sweets? / I’ve never had the gall / to be having this much fun/ am I allowed to jump the gun? —no,” Trixie stops abruptly and scratches on the paper, “not right,” he mumbles. He plays a different chord with the last line.

                 “Sounds better,” Violet remarks. Trixie flinches in surprise and turns around. Violet can see him blushing slightly at having been caught. “Are you writing a song about me?” he teases, half-asleep.

                 “Oh, uh…” Trixie stutters nervously. Violet smiles.

                 “Come here,” Violet instructs, yawning, “play me something.” Trixie carries his guitar over to the bed and sits cross-legged on the mattress. Violet turns to the side and watches Trixie. “You look butch.”

                 “Bitch,” Trixie replies automatically and plays a few test chords.

                 “No country, please.”

Trixie looks slightly offended. “But all my songs are country.”

Violet shrugs in response, “then play something that isn’t yours.”

Trixie huffs, “fine.” He pauses for a moment to think then starts plucking a few tabs on his guitar. Violet hums in approval. Trixie begins to sing.

“Spinning dreams with angel wings

Torn blue jeans, foolish grin

Burning down in the night

So cool, so right

Star power, star power

Star power over me

She knows how to make love to me

She knows how to make love…”

Violet begins to drift off to sleep, the soft guitar echoing in the room.

“Close my eyes and think of you

Everything is black and blue…”

Trixie’s voice is heavy, leaden with something Violet doesn’t pick up on. But it makes him dream a blur of visions—of blonde Russian acrobats, bleached white teeth, and cigarettes on red lips.

Tags - Trixie Mattel, Violet Chachki, Vixie, Trixya, light angst, foreboding fluff, non au, smut, pilandok

vStar Power Over Me - Part Two (Vixie/Trixya) - Pilandok

AN: Okay a few things: 1) part two ended up being much longer than I thought so I halfed it. 2) Katya isn’t here yet (kinda) but she will appear. 3) First time writing drag race fanfiction, experimenting w/ pronouns– ended up writing them as he out of drag and she in drag so it changes, whatever. 4) Smut-ish again? I don’t know why this keeps happening. 5) All lyrics that aren’t “Star Power” by Sonic Youth are mine. Thank you for reading.

Part One.

Trixie is surprisingly casual about everything. Violet was half-expecting that when the alcohol has seeped out of their system, Trixie was going to start freaking out about their morally dubious actions. Unexpectedly, however, and Violet wakes up to an empty bed and a note on the table.

Early flight today, sorry I can’t hang. Love you bitch. Xoxo T.

His handwriting is a lot less legible than Violet expected it to be. After reading the note, he takes a moment to gather his things before starting his journey back to his own hotel room. Practically stumbling out of the door, Violet isn’t exactly hung over, it’s just that he’s not a morning person at all; he prefers to start functioning at noon. He spots Trixie in the hallway, a few paces from the door, talking on the phone. For his part, Trixie doesn’t look hungover at all, not even a little tired.

                 “Yeah, yeah. I’m about to leave, yeah. I’ll be there on time, don’t worry.” Trixie looks up and sees Violet and smiles, he makes a gesture with his hand, telling Violet to wait for him. Violet nods groggily, rubbing his eyes. He waits for Trixie to finish his call but he isn’t sure exactly why or what for. The time of his phone reads 8:13 AM.

                 “Hey sorry,” Trixie apologizes when he walks over to Violet, “I have an early flight.”

                 “Mhm,” Violet answers, still not fully aware of his surroundings. Trixie appears to be amused at this.

                 “Here,” Trixie hands him his half-finished cup of coffee, “I drank some already but it’s still warm and you look like you could use some.”

Violet accepts the cup from Trixie and takes a sip. It seems to take effect immediately and he wakes up little. He stares at Trixie and wonders what he should say.

                 “Have a good flight,” he settles.

                 “I will. Go get some rest already, you look like you really need it,” Trixie says playfully.

                 “Don’t be rude,” Violet grumbles. Trixie laughs and leans in to kiss him on the cheek.

                 “See you, bitch.” Trixie leaves for the elevator down the hall and Violet watches him until he turns the corner. Violet then continues his trek back to his room, calculating how many hours of sleep he can get before he has to get ready to leave.

—

After the incident, Trixie and Violet haven’t given much thought to the night they shared together, chalking it up as another weird incident in the string of bizarre events that is a drag queen’s life. Stranger things have happened. And of the sexual encounters they’ve had, this one wasn’t half bad. It was pretty good, in fact, a lot better than they imagined. Their relationship with each other hasn’t changed, however, rarely communicating aside from the occasional interaction on social media. Weeks pass and Trixie and Violet have all but forgotten about that night. It wasn’t until a month later that Trixie and Violet see each other again. It was on a Drag Race night in a club in LA, which means they’ve booked a few Ru girls along with usual array of local queens, hoping to get more traction in their scene.

Trixie and Violet have finished their number and are in the dressing room, waiting for the call to do the meet and greets. The club provided them with cocktails and both queens accepted them graciously, situating themselves on the couch in the dressing room with their legs tucked underneath them a la Untucked. They spend the first few minutes reenacting iconic incidents from the series before falling into an easy conversation teetering towards flirtation. Halfway through the drinks, Trixie realizes that they have been unconsciously closing the gap between them with every burst of laughter and the lingering of an innocent touch. The other queens weaving in and out of the dressing room eyes them with tepid suspicion and Trixie’s not sure if she has been noticing this, choosing ultimately to brush off the stares. Violet appears to be completely oblivious and swings her legs over Trixie’s lap.

“I think one of your balls is about to pop out,” Trixie comments, pretending to take a peek.

Violet slaps her shoulder lightly, “Nothing you haven’t put in your mouth before, bitch.”

“Don’t be gross,” Trixie answers, her screaming laughter echoing in the dressing room.

“Oh my god can’t you laugh like a normal person? You, your psycho scream is fucking— “

Violet is interrupted by a loud creak of the door. “Well well well, who do we have here?” Jinkx interrupts having just entered the room. She closes the door behind her slowly. “Why, isn’t it RuPaul’s Drag Race season 7 winner Violet Chachki,” she takes a small bow towards Violet then turns to Trixie, “… and All Stars 3 winner, I suppose?”

Trixie smiles meaningfully and shakes her head, not giving anything away.

“Aww, not even a tiny hint?” Jinkx pouts.

Trixie tilts her head slightly in mock-consideration, “Well…”

“Ahh! Don’t tell me,” Violet presses her hands over her ears, “No spoilers!”

“Sorry, Jinkx,” Trixie smiles at her apologetically, “you heard the lady.”

“Boo,” she answered, plopping herself down beside the pair on the couch. She pulls out a joint and a lighter from her bra which Trixie and Violet watches with wonderment. She winks at them before lighting the joint and taking a long drag from it. She offers it to them.

“No thank you,” Trixie declines.

Violet takes up the offer, however, and inhales deeply, looking straight at Trixie. She holds the smoke in for an extra moment before parting her lips slightly to let the smoke ascend on its own. Trixie doesn’t look away. Violet hands the blunt to Trixie who looks at it warily and sighs, takes a hit of her own.

Jinkx observes this interaction with great interest. When she’s handed back the joint, she holds it between her middle and index finger like a cigarette. “The youth… is wasted on the young,” she begins dramatically, “oh why must the universe inflict upon us such cruel ironies? When I see you two young, beautiful ladies,” she continues, turning to the pair, “flirting without consequence, the bubbling sexual tension not a premonition for troubles to come… oh to be young! If only this aging carafe can receive a taste of young flesh once more.” She lets the dramatic silence fall over all of them.

“Jinkx, you’re like two years older than me,” Trixie deadpans. Jinkx begins to stage-weep melodramatically. Violet looks at her, perplexed, Trixie tells her, “forget it, once she gets into character, we can’t do anything about it.”

“Time, the merciless mother of us all!” she starts again. “Only a kiss from the fountain of youth can bring these—”

“Jinkx.”

“—these wasted, decrepit, rickety bones— “

“Jinkx Monsoon.”

“—moldy, sagging, sinewy, discolored, putrid, decomposing—”

“Jinkx!”

“—only a— mmph”

Suddenly, Violet reaches over to grab Jinkx’ face and pulls her into a firm kiss.

“Oh my,” Jinkx reacts afterwards, she widens her eyes comically and covers her mouth with the tips of her fingers. She and Violet look at Trixie expectantly.

“Oh fuck it,” Trixie says then gives Jinkx a kiss too.

Jinkx burst into a maniacal cackle, “you fools!” Jinkx stands up and walks slowly around the room, “you’ve let me absorb your energy, I now have the power!”

Trixie and Violet roll their eyes, amused by Jinkx’s antics. They hear someone call them for the meet and greet and Trixie gets up to leave, she reaches out her hand to Violet she takes it. Jinkx is still in the middle of her spectacle and the two drag queens giggle at her as they exit the dressing room hand in hand.

The meet and greet is over soon enough and Trixie offers Violet a place to stay for the night. Both of them leave the club in full drag. Arriving at her apartment, Trixie heads straight to the shower, leaving Violet to pace awkwardly around her room. It isn’t a lot different from the other LA queens’ bedrooms, she notes, sparsely furnished, and still looking a little brand new. Various drag paraphernalia litters the room following a trail leading to what Violet guesses is a walk-in closet. The room also houses a few guitars and other unfamiliar folk instruments; on a table, sheets of papers are strewn with Trixie’s familiar handwriting. Violet makes an attempt to read them but the writing is even more illegible than before, but from what she can discern, Trixie is writing some new songs. The instruments along with the bright pink walls of the room makes Violet feel like she’s inside her Trixie brain, where both Trixie and Brian have learned to coexist.

Violet hears Trixie start singing in the shower.

“Work, work… mm… I am a professional, work…” she recognizes Shangela’s song and tries not to think too deeply if this counts as a spoiler. She walks towards the bathroom door and finds it unlocked. She lets herself in as Trixie switches to singing an unfamiliar folk song.

“Trixie,” she calls.

Trixie stops singing to respond, “Vi? Need anything?”

Violet doesn’t say anything, instead she removes the pink silk robe that Trixie lent her to cover up her usual burlesque drag. She has her own clothes but in the club Trixie and everyone else laughed at seeing her wear their robe because oh wow, baby pink does not suit you at all. You look like a grandma prostitute.Violet decided to humor them and kept it on. She hangs the robe on the hook then takes off her heels, stockings, corset, and the rest of her lingerie and lays it down carefully beside the sink. She pulls the shower curtain to the side and Trixie jumps in surprise, she was in the process of lathering her face with make-up remover.

“Jesus Christ. I’ve seen Psycho, Violet,” Trixie says then proceeds to rub her face.

“I’m not the one with the mug looking like a melting clown, bitch.”

Trixie lifts a middle finger to her and steps to the side, giving Violet space to climb in. Trixie turns on the shower to rinse her face. Violet borrows the make-up remover and starts working on her face.

“Fuck, bitch, are you trying to boil your skin off?” Violet comments at the temperature of the water. Trixie aims the showerhead at Violet and she squeals, cursing at Trixie who chuckles but turns the heat down. “Shit, I got some on my eye.” Violet reaches blindly for water and Trixie hands it to her so she can wash her face. Trixie eyes the water travelling on Violet’s body; from it splashing onto her face, sliding down to her chest, and falling between her legs. When Violet opens her eyes she sees Trixie, now completely make-up-free, looking at her with that same smile on his face. “What?”

“You’re so skinny,” he remarks.

“What?”

“Pretty and skinny.”

“What?”

“So pretty,” Trixie breathes.

Before he can say anything, Trixie pushes him against the wall and starts kissing him. Violet recoils against the cool tiles of the bathroom but pulls Trixie closer to him, responding hurriedly. He’s surprised at Trixie’s erection rubbing against his leg and it stimulates his own budding one. Trixie’s hands slide down from his neck, scratch his chest, and trace down his stomach. One wraps around Violet’s cock and begins tugging slightly, the other follows the shape of his ass and teases his asshole. Violet groans and pushes Trixie off. Trixie is horrified for a second, ready to race to an apology when Violet turns around and presses his ass against Trixie’s dick. Trixie feels a fire ignite in his gut, seeing Violet bent over in front of him, both hands on the wall to hold himself steady.

“Say it again,” Violet says tensely.

For a moment, Trixie is confused, but then a pleased grin slowly spreads on his face. He leans in to whisper, “you’re so skinny and you look so pretty.” He angles the tip of his penis against Violet’s entrance and hears Violet whimper. The sound sends pulses of pleasure to his erection. He gives himself a moment to be impressed by the animalistic desire that Violet Chachki’s whimpering ignites in him before leaning in again. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, pushing his cock inside.

—

                 Later that night, Violet, asleep on Trixie’s bed, stirs awake to the sound of a guitar being played. He squints and sees Trixie on the other side of the room hunched over the table, writing fervently with a guitar on his lap. He strums the guitar again.

                 “You ain’t quite the Barbie/ but you’re such a doll/ Should I spoil myself with sweets? / I’ve never had the gall / to be having this much fun/ am I allowed to jump the gun? —no,” Trixie stops abruptly and scratches on the paper, “not right,” he mumbles. He plays a different chord with the last line.

                 “Sounds better,” Violet remarks. Trixie flinches in surprise and turns around. Violet can see him blushing slightly at having been caught. “Are you writing a song about me?” he teases, half-asleep.

                 “Oh, uh…” Trixie stutters nervously. Violet smiles.

                 “Come here,” Violet instructs, yawning, “play me something.” Trixie carries his guitar over to the bed and sits cross-legged on the mattress. Violet turns to the side and watches Trixie. “You look butch.”

                 “Bitch,” Trixie replies automatically and plays a few test chords.

                 “No country, please.”

Trixie looks slightly offended. “But all my songs are country.”

Violet shrugs in response, “then play something that isn’t yours.”

Trixie huffs, “fine.” He pauses for a moment to think then starts plucking a few tabs on his guitar. Violet hums in approval. Trixie begins to sing.

“Spinning dreams with angel wings

Torn blue jeans, foolish grin

Burning down in the night

So cool, so right

Star power, star power

Star power over me

She knows how to make love to me

She knows how to make love…”

Violet begins to drift off to sleep, the soft guitar echoing in the room.

“Close my eyes and think of you

Everything is black and blue…”

Trixie’s voice is heavy, leaden with something Violet doesn’t pick up on. But it makes him dream a blur of visions—of blonde Russian acrobats, bleached white teeth, and cigarettes on red lips.