#but that stomach deep Dread. the memory of the last time i found my cat's blood on the floor.

[orcelito]

Calmed down from the panicking but i 100% found blood in tally's poop and so I'm gonna have to take her to the vet asap lol

She's acting completely normal rn at least. That's the one assurance I have rn.

[hqbbg]

still.

pairing: miya osamu x fem!reader

prompt: “I told you to stay still.”

genre: smut

word count: 5.3K (I got carried away, oops)

warnings: 18+, masturbation, some degradation, oral (f!receiving), fingering, some spanking, vaginal & unprotected s3x (make sure you wrap your presents, kids), like 2 seconds of cockwarming, uhm I think that’s it oop

author’s note: I'm back with another Haikyuu!! Headquarters collab piece! check out the master list of everyone else’s works here ✨ I hope y’all enjoy this!

The air in your room feels thick as you pant helplessly, feeling the familiar ache in your fingers as they begin to cramp up while plunging in and out of your sopping cunt. You feel so close to your own undoing, unable to control your thoughts as they drift to the man whose room is on the other side of your bedroom wall. You can’t help but think that it’s his fingers squelching within your warmth, though you’re sure they would reach much further than yours ever could.

You don’t do this often, touching yourself to the thought of your roommate while he’s out at work or running errands, but lately you’ve been frustrated.

When you had put out an ad for a roommate, you were hesitant. You didn’t have much of a choice, as your last roommate decided to move out in favor of moving in with her boyfriend, leaving you to scramble for a solution in order to continue to afford rent. As a full-time student with a part time job, it would’ve been inconvenient to move out in the middle of the semester, and it seemed reasonable to quickly search for a roommate to help with the bills until your lease was up.

Miya Osamu was hot, to say the least, though it wasn’t the main reason why you ended up choosing him to be your new roommate. On top of having manners and being financially stable, he knew how to cook and respected your space in the apartment. Unfortunately, you’ve been unable to say the same recently. The number of times his room door was cracked open as he changed almost made you consider that he was doing it on purpose, as if encouraging you to take a peek.

As you recall the way his back muscles flexed as he pulled his shirt over his head all those times you’d told yourself that you were just walking by, you let another moan slip past your lips. Your fingers begin to move quicker, toes curling, and you can feel your arm beginning to tire out. Your back arches as your other hand quickly moves to massage your neglected clit, rubbing harsh circles until your vision flashes white.

You fail to hear the front door open and close as your moans continue to fill the room. The memory of seeing Osamu stepping out of the bathroom in a simple pair of grey sweatpants with a towel around his neck is still fresh on your mind. You feel yourself clench around your own fingers as you recall your eyes briefly catching sight of the outline of his cock, the image practically ingrained within you. Too many times have you thought about how it would feel inside of you.

Another moan resonates on the walls and you bite your lip, though it does little to stop you from moaning Osamu’s name. Before you know it, you’re overwhelmed by pleasure and your whole body tenses before it relaxes. Your chest heaves as you lay there, trying to recover from your intense orgasm and you want nothing more than to sleep now. You hardly notice that your door is open.

Over the next few days, you can’t help but feel that something is off with Osamu. Though you aren’t particularly close, you’d like to think that you two have developed some sort of friendship with all the shared meals and evenings spent in the living room just chatting about life.

Did he hear you the other night? There was no way; you made sure to give yourself enough time before he was supposed to come home. Then again, you didn’t hear him come in…

Your cheeks begin to burn at the idea that he’d heard you. You let out a groan as you bury your face in your hands, leaning onto your desk. The little motivation you had to study has effectively disappeared and an unsettling mix of nervousness and shame begins to stir in the pit of your stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you try to push the dreadful thought out of your head and sit upright. An idea suddenly pops into your head and you abruptly stand up. You walk over to your door and poke your head out, scanning the area to locate your roommate. He’s conveniently in the kitchen, snacking on some leftovers he’d brought back from his restaurant the previous night.

“Hey,” you say awkwardly as you step out. He looks over at you and hums in acknowledgement, his mouth full. You decide to go ahead and speak, though your fingers fidget with the hem of your oversized shirt. “You’re not working tomorrow night, right?”

Osamu shakes his head, swallowing his food. “What’s up?”

“Well,” you hesitate, trying to find a way to come off as casually as you can, “I saw this recipe online for some salmon and vegetables, do you wanna be my guinea pig?”

“Sure,” he nods as he shrugs. “What time?”

“Dinner time,” you say, a little too eagerly. “How about seven?”

His lips quirk upwards into a small smile. “Sounds good to me.”

You watch as he takes another bite of his food before you realize you’re staring, clearing your throat.

“Okay, well, have a good night,” you say and quickly scurry back towards your room. Once you shut the door, you release a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. You swiftly move back to your desk, your forgotten notes pushed even further aside as you begin to look for that recipe you’d seen all those weeks ago.

The following day, you make a quick trip to the store to buy ingredients and find yourself nervously counting down the hours and minutes until it’s a reasonable time to start making dinner. You step out of your room to see Osamu already perched on a stool at the small island in the kitchen. He’s slouched over, scrolling through his phone when you walk up. He glances up and greets you with a small smile as you place your phone down near the center of the island countertop.

“Okay, so before I start, I just need to say that I’m definitely not a professional chef in any way,” you say as you move to wash your hands. You can feel his eyes on you as you move around the kitchen, pulling the vegetables from the fridge. You grab the apron hanging on the pantry door and sling it over your head, tying it behind your back.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen ya wear that,” Osamu muses as he leans his cheek on his palm. His elbows are both propped up on the counter and you resist the urge to playfully roll your eyes.

“I have to make sure my shirt doesn’t get dirty,” you say, “it’s one of my favorites.”

He says nothing in response, opting for a light chuckle as you begin to wash the vegetables. Once you finish, you pull out the cutting board in front of him on the other side of the island, placing a carrot in the middle.

You open a cabinet and pull out a knife, giving it a quick rinse before positioning the blade to cut through the vegetable. Placing your fingers on the edge, you lift the knife just slightly.

“Hey, be sure to cats paw,” Osamu pipes up, pointing to the hand that’s on the carrot, “If yer not careful, you’ll knick yourself.”

“Huh?” You blink your eyes at him, trying to prevent yourself from sounding like an idiot.

“Like this,” he says, lifting his hand up and curling his fingers inward into a loose fist. You try not to focus on the veins lining his hands, tearing your eyes away and mimicking his motions. You see him drop his hand from your peripherals and finally attempt to cut into the carrot.

Before you know it, the knife slips from your grasp, making a shallow but clean cut across your index knuckle. You let out a curse and hiss as you drop the knife.

“Whoa, are ya okay?” Osamu stands as you begin to make your way to the sink, blocking your path.

“It hurts, but I’m fine,” you reply, looking at him curiously before glancing at your finger. You examine it for a moment, seeing the familiar crimson begin to bead.

“Let me take a look,” says Osamu, gently grabbing a hold of your wrist. He lifts your hand up closer to his face, his eyebrows slightly creasing as you do your best to resist the blush creeping up to your cheeks. “You should be careful.”

“Well, it’s not like this was intentional,” you grumble, unable to meet his eyes. He sighs softly and you glance at him, opening your mouth to say something. However, your train of thought is  completely derailed when his lips wrap around the small incision.

You feel his warm tongue gently lick around it and you can’t help but stare at the way his lips look around your finger. He catches your eyes and pulls away.

“I used to do this to my brother whenever he’d get hurt or something when we were little,” he says, letting go of your wrist. Your face is burning as you drop your hand back down to your side. “Wait here, I’ll go grab a bandage.”

You nod wordlessly, mind still reeling as you try to figure out and process what exactly had just happened. You watch his retreating figure head towards the bathroom, disappearing for only a moment before resurfacing with a familiar pink wrapper with Hello Kitty’s face scattered across the outside cover, a gift he had received from his brother. He makes his way back over to you, pulling the tabs apart and plucking out the bandaid.

Without prompting, you lift your hand up towards him and watch as he moves your hand towards him with his pinky, wrapping it around your finger.

“There, all patched up. Is that too tight?” He asks, picking up the trash and crumpling it in his fist. You lift your hand up and examine his handiwork, nodding in approval.

“It’s perfect,” you say, feeling your stomach flutter at the self-satisfied smirk that’s found its way onto his face. “I still have to cut the vegetables, though.”

“Hand it over; I’ll do it.” He motions towards the knife.

You pout, making no indication to hand the utensil over to him. “I kind of wanted to cut the vegetables though.”

He raises a brow at you. “Are ya sure? Ya already butchered yer first chance; I don’t want blood all over my kitchen.”

“Your kitchen, huh?”

Osamu shrugs. “I hardly see ya in here, so it might as well be.”

“So are you gonna help me or not?” You raise a brow and choose to ignore his statement as you cross the kitchen to grab your phone, pulling up the recipe to skim through the instructions before placing it back down. “I’m supposed to Juliette these vegetables.”

Osamu stays quiet for a moment. “Do ya mean julienne?”

“Yeah, same thing,” you wave your hand dismissively, walking back over to the cutting board. You pick up the discarded knife, giving it a quick rinse. Upon returning to your original spot at the island, your hands position themselves once again, curling your fingers like Osamu had previously shown you.

“Wait, yer gonna end up hurting yourself again,” he says as he walks up behind you. “How thin are ya trying to cut this?”

“About this much,” you reply, positioning the knife towards the edge of the carrot.

“Okay, first things first,” he says as he wraps his arms around you. Your eyes widen as you feel his chest press against your back, his hands moving to hold yours. “Ya have to cut it in half and get a flat surface.”

He grabs your hand holding the knife and moves it to the middle of the carrot, wrapping his thick and long fingers around the handle, completely swallowing yours. He ensures that his grip is stable before pressing down, the blade making a sharp cut.

“Okay, so now that ya have this, ya said ya want to make them look like noodles, right?”

You can only nod your head, afraid that your voice will crack if you choose to speak. Your head feels fuzzy, your senses overwhelmed by the scent of his musky cologne hitting your nose and the way his strong arms continue to guide you. The heat radiating off his chest envelops you in an oddly comforting embrace and something about it feels very domestic. You try hard to keep your knees from buckling under you, shifting your weight between your feet. You immediately tense when you accidentally press your backside against his hips.

Briefly scanning the island countertop, you see that his phone is on the other side where he’d originally left it when you began cooking and try to ignore the sinful thoughts threatening to infiltrate your mind.

“Makes sense?” Osamu says, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“I-I think so,” you stammer, though you bite your lip and mentally scold yourself for your faltering voice.

“Alright,” he says, taking a step back. You exhale slowly, trying not to think of the loss of warmth. “While ya keep doing that, I’ll prepare the salmon. Where’s the recipe?”

“It’s on my phone.” You nod towards it, setting the knife down. He walks over to the side of the counter you’d left your phone at and brings it over to you. “What’s yer passcode?”

“That’s classified information, sir.” You see his eyes darken for a moment as you pluck your phone from his hand, typing in the digits before placing it in his open palm.

“Never thought you’d be callin’ me that so soon,” he says offhandedly, locating the recipe in your browser. You feel your lips part to say something, but no words come out.

You simply resume cutting the carrot and grab more vegetables, shaking your head to clear your wandering thoughts. You see Osamu grab the salmon from the fridge, pulling it out and getting some seasonings you’d bought earlier.

“Hey, can ya grab a pan from that cabinet there?” Osamu asks as he points to one of the bottom cabinets in front of your legs.

“Sure,” you nod and take a step back, opening the cabinet door and bending over at the hips. You rummage around for a decent-sized pan, feeling Osamu’s eyes on you before you straighten up. He’s quick to avert his eyes as he holds his hand out to you. You place the handle in his open palm and he takes it, setting it on top of the stove.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you prepare your own things, with you seasoning and cooking the vegetables while Osamu prepares the fish, searing it on the pan. As you both finish your portions, you decide to bring out your nicer plates for the occasion.

Opening one of the top cabinets, you stand on your toes to reach for the plates, wondering how they ended up so high to begin with.

“Need help?”

You jump slightly, startled when you feel his body pressed flush against yours with a hand on the dip of your waist as the other reaches above your head to grab two plates, placing them down onto the counter. You turn your head to look at him and realize just how close he is, his face merely centimeters away. His eyes are on your lips as you tongue pokes out to wet them before they flicker upwards to meet your eyes. You look up at him, anticipating his next move with bated breath, and feel his hand that had been holding the plates move to gently hold your jaw. He leans forward just slightly and your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet.

His lips move slowly against yours, though it’s nothing short of passionate. You feel his hand on your waist pull you closer to him and you lean into the warmth. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open your mouth to welcome the warm muscle inside, letting him explore freely.

The both of you seem to run out of air at the same time, pulling away breathlessly. Before you can say anything, he kisses down your jaw to your neck as you crane your head just slightly so he can have better access and you’re not straining your muscles. He nips gently at the skin before dragging his tongue along, finding a particularly tender spot to pay special attention to. A hiss slips past your lips and you’re reminded of how close he is to you when you begin to feel something hardening against your backside.

“If ya wanna stop, ya have to tell me now,” he mutters against your neck as both of his hands settle on your waist, thumbs playing with the hem of your shirt.

“I’d rather not,” you admit rather shamelessly. You can feel Osamu’s lips curve upwards against your skin as his hands give you a slight squeeze.

“If ya say so,” he says before one of his hands reaches between the two of you to untie your apron. “If ya ever need me to stop, let me know.”

You nod your head absentmindedly, slightly dizzy from the reality of what’s happening right now. One of his hands begins to slide upwards from your waist, cupping your clothed breast and giving it a squeeze, while the other slips downwards under your apron and pushes past the waistband of your shorts, hovering over your panties. Suddenly very aware of the wetness between your legs, you move to close them a little.

“That won’t do ya any good,” Osamu mutters against the back of your neck. As if to prove his point, he presses his middle finger against your clothed slit and swipes upward, humming to himself. “Yer practically dripping and I haven’t even started yet.”

A moan slips past your lips and you can only bite your lip in embarrassment at your own shamelessness.

“It’s just the two of us; you don’t have to be quiet,” he says, as if encouraging you to be as loud as you want and disturb your neighbors. When you still refuse to make another noise, he nudges your legs open with his knees, almost forcing you to lean over the counter for support. As if to further prove his point, he pushes your panties aside and slips his middle finger in between your folds, causing you to let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden intrusion.

“Osamu,” you whimper as you feel him kiss his way towards the back of your ear.

“What is it, baby?” His finger is still and unmoving inside of you as you try to gain any sort of friction, attempting to grind your hips against him. His hand doesn’t move as you feel his tongue trace the outer shell of your ear.

“Stop teasing me,” you practically whimper as you ball your hands into fists on the surface in front of you.

“What do ya want me to do?” He sounds smug and you can almost visualize his teasing smirk behind your closed lids.

“Just fuck me,” you say. You fight the embarrassment heating your cheeks, too aroused to focus on anything else.

“I know we’ve been living together for awhile now, but let’s not forget our manners,” he says, beginning to slide his finger out.

“M’Samu, please fuck me!” It comes out too eagerly, too desperately, but you want him to just do something to you.

“That’s all you needed to say,” he lets out a soft chuckle before he slides his finger back in. You find yourself leaning completely on the countertop so you don’t buckle under him and moan when he slides another finger inside, stretching you.

You were right; his fingers reach so much further than yours ever could.

His calloused fingers continue to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace as his other hand that had been on your breast moves down to slip under your shirt. You bite your lip as you feel him expertly unclip the bra before sliding around to cup the flesh, nudging your loose bra aside. His fingers pinch your hardening nipple and you breathe out his name.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he practically grunts, “if ya keep soundin’ like that, I won’t be goin’ easy on ya.”

Part of you has half the mind to take him up on the offer while the other is failing to form coherent words and thoughts.

A familiar tension begins to pull at your lower abdomen as you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. It seems that Osamu’s also aware, quickly slipping his hands out from your dripping cunt.

“Why’d you stop?” You whine as you turn back to look at him. He offers a smirk before removing his hands completely from your pants and lifting his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. The way his half-lidded eyes are locked on yours as he swirls his tongue around makes you clench helplessly around nothing.

“Don’t worry, yer gonna thank me later,” he says, dropping his hand. He begins to lower himself so he’s on his knees on the ground before he pulls your shorts and panties down in one clean tug. The cool air hits your wet heat and you bite your lip at the sensation.

You watch him with anticipation as he leans forward, using both hands to massage your ass a couple times before spreading the cheeks apart. He nudges your feet so you can spread a little wider for him, which you wordlessly oblige, and inhale shakily as he leans forward and licks a fat stripe up your slit.

“Fuck, Osamu,” you hiss as you turn back to look at him. You use one hand to reach around and weave your fingers through his hair, fisting it as he begins to sloppily lap at your cunt.

His tongue dives in and out, the wet squelch echoing around the apartment. You feel your legs tremble as he angles his head to reach a bit further before opting to have his fingers rejoin the fun. Your moans sound nearly pornographic as you attempt to grip at anything, unable to get yourself to properly stand as Osamu wags his head a couple times, swirling his tongue in the process.

A sharp gasp leaves you when you feel his fingers angle themselves and hit a spot you didn’t even know existed, your walls beginning to clench and flutter around him.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan, pushing his head deeper against you. You feel him hum against you as if to encourage you to release onto his face, so you do.

A strangled cry erupts from your throat as you feel every nerve ending spark up and you come undone above him. He lets you grind your hips against him a couple more times before he pulls away, breathing heavily as he stands up. He turns you around by your hips and you see your slick coating his lips and chin.

“Look at this mess,” he taunts you, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. You don’t say anything and wrap your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to taste yourself. As you do so, he makes quick work to get rid of his sweatpants and pulls away to lift his shirt over his head. You go ahead and do the same with your apron, tossing it onto the island behind him and removing your shirt and bra to leave the both of you stark naked in the kitchen.

You take a brief moment to unabashedly check him out, admiring how toned and built he is. Chewing on your bottom lip, you let your fingers trace along the hardened and defined lines of his abdomen, trailing your fingers down to palm him through his boxers. You see the fabric straining and recognize the heat rising to your cheeks as you feel how hard he is, creating a slightly darkened and damp spot where the head of his cock is located. You glance up at him and meet eyes as you hook your thumbs on his waistband, pulling them down. His length practically springs to life, standing proud and tall before you and your mouth practically waters at the sight.

Wrapping your fingers around the base, you bite your lip as you drag your hand upwards to the tip and collect his beading precum, spreading it around generously with the pad of your thumb before using it as lubricant to continue stroking him.

“Fuck,” he moans softly as you lick your lips, getting ready to get on your knees to return the favor that he so generously had given you moments ago. He grabs your wrist to stop you and you look at him curiously. “As much as I’d love to see you suck my cock, I just want to be inside of that pussy of yours right now.”

The hungry look in his eyes is all you need before you kiss him again, this time much sloppier than the previous ones. He maneuvers you around the kitchen for a moment and before you know it, you’re bent over the island countertop with a leg propped up on the cool surface. You hear Osamu spit into his hand and look back to see him give his thick cock a couple generous strokes before positioning himself with one hand while the other holds your hip.

You feel the bulbous head nudge your lower set of lips apart before slowly easing in, your back arching at the pressure already building inside of you. A soft hiss escapes your throat as you try to take all of him, grateful when he pauses once he’s bottomed out within you. You take a deep breath for a moment and feel your muscles relax slightly as you adjust accordingly.

“Are ya ready?” Osamu’s voice comes out surprisingly soft as he leans over you, placing a kiss between your shoulder blades. You nod quietly before feeling both hands on your hips as he slowly begins to pull out. You realize just how thick he is when you feel empty, though it doesn’t last for long when he slams right back into you. A strangled mewl bubbles from your throat as he begins to thrust in and out of you. You lower yourself onto your elbows on the counter and ball your hands into fists, no longer caring how you sound; you’re too lost in your own wave of pleasure.

As Osamu continues his ministrations, you feel the counter buzz slightly and hazily look around with half a mind to simply ignore it. You see Osamu’s phone shaking across the surface next to your discarded apron, the screen lit up with an unfamiliar name.

“’Samu, your phone,” you say between moans, “your phone is ringing.”

His hips slow, though his thrusts continue to hit deep inside of you. He doesn’t have to reach far to grab it and glances at the screen.

“Shit,” he hisses under his breath. “Stay still for me, will ya?”

You halfheartedly nod your head, though you can’t help but whine at the loss of friction as he stills inside of you.

“Hello?” His voice is even as he answers quickly. “This is Osamu, yes.”

It’s hard to ignore the slight frustration bubbling in your chest as he uses one hand to keep your hips still while the other holds his phone. He continues to speak formally, so you assume it’s probably someone important or has something to do with work. You know better than to tease him in the event that this call is actually important, but you can’t resist the urge to just roll your hips a little.

There’s a slight hitch in Osamu’s voice before he clears his throat, though it sounds more like a warning to you than anything. However, that doesn’t stop you as you grow more bold, deciding to create your own rhythm of shallow thrusts. His grip on your hip tightens, though it’s not enough to hurt you just yet.

“Something just came up, so I’m gonna have to call ya back,” you hear Osamu say, his voice becoming more strained as each second ticks by. When he finally hangs up, the phone smacks onto the table, startling you to a halt.

“Sorry, I couldn’t w-”

“Ya think yer so cute, dontcha? I told ya to stay still.” His voice is dangerously low as he hunches over, practically growling in your ear. You whimper softly in response, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. You’re not sure if you should be as turned on as you are right now, feeling your walls clench around him.

He stands upright and reaches around to grab one of your arms, practically yanking you back so you’re also standing up. His other hand reaches around to grab your other arm, pinning your wrists behind your back.

“If yer gonna act like a slut, I’m gonna fuck ya like one,” he snarls lowly and you resist the urge to moan. He manages to reach for your apron and rolls it up, looping it around your elbows.

As one hand holds your newly bound arms behind your back, the other holds your hips before he begins to pull out of you. You feel his whole length leave you empty with the exception of the tip and you’re about to complain again when you feel him slam back in roughly.

“Is this what ya thought of when ya were touchin’ yerself?”

You hardly contain the cry of mixed pain and pleasure as your back arches, his hips snapping against yours at a relentless pace. You can barely process his words, though you know the embarrassment will hit you later; you simply can’t form coherent enough thoughts to care. The hand that was on your hip leaves but only momentarily before his palm claps against your ass. You yelp in surprise as he releases your arms.

“What, did ya never get spanked as a kid?” Osamu taunts as he rubs the reddening skin. You lean back over, supporting yourself on your elbows. His comment barely processes in your head as he does it again.

Coherent words fail to form as you feel your legs begin to tremble. You’re practically running towards another orgasm and you can tell Osamu is too, based on his unstable rhythm and sloppier movements. You feel one of his hands reach around you to play with your nipples while you let your own hand rub your clit, the sensations overwhelming you in a crashing wave of pure bliss.

As your walls tighten and flutter, Osamu pulls out and fists his cock a couple times before you feel hot ropes of cum paint your back and ass, a guttural groan leaving him.

“Holy fuck,” he pants once he recovers from his orgasm. You’re still shaking, bent over the island, breathing heavily.

A dull ringing can be heard in your ears from the intensity of your climax, but you faintly hear the sink running for a moment. Not long after, you feel a warm and damp towel wipe across the mess on your backside and Osamu’s gentle arm pulls you up.

“Hey, was I too rough on ya?” His voice is soft and you shake your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he hands you your clothes from the ground. “Do ya wanna eat now and shower later?”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” you sigh as your head begins to clear up. You look over to your forgotten food, your mouth curving downwards into a frown. “Wait, did you not turn off the stove?”

“I was a little preoccupied.”

[wh6res]

chase — renhyuck

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

tw bullying, violence, swearing, yandere themes, possessive themes, blood, weapons (a gun, a grenade), implied noncon, implied kidnapping, mentions of stalking

disc i dont condone this behavior

wc 5k

‏‏‎ ‎

29 hours before the annual purge

“hold her down—i said hold her down, idiot!”

putting everything into account, they saw you more like a glorified chew toy than an actual person. 

they ruined your life simultaneously and it's ironic, that despite being sworn rivals, it seems you were their neutral ground—after one has had their own fun, you’re passed on to the other person so they can deliver that final, shattering blow that weakens your resolve. 

it was meant to be that way because it had always been that way. you’re the unlucky loser that ignited the worse sides of both lee haechan and huang renjun. 

they’re like oil and water; they don’t mix but with you, they found a compromise. stealing your lunch money, trashing your homework, quickies in between lectures. all of these should’ve been enough to give them a good power trip. but they’ve developed a hunger so severe that these past instances are but mere crumbs that hardly satisfy their cravings. 

it was beyond exhausting, being caught in between two headstrong people that were unwilling to back down at any cost. their aggression and anger towards each other directly being channeled onto you as they shove and swing you around like some ragdoll. 

you weren’t a bunch of kids, you knew that. you don’t cry and sob and say that it’s unfair, you hold your chin high and walk up to the guidance counselor’s office to report them for bullying. but you never should’ve underestimated the power of money and their respective families’ broad network of connections. 

without a doubt, the empty promises for justice is what broke your heart the most. it breaks with every bruise, every tight grip, and every nasty name the people willingly turned a blind eye to. 

it’s sad but it was a reality you taught yourself to get used to—the meek mouse learning how to evade the cats hot on her trail. 

but you weren’t as lucky today. 

“i am holding her down.”

a pair of lips comes in contact with your neck. its feathery and light at first until its biting down to mark you with his teeth. not too strong to draw blood, but enough to dent the surface of the skin. 

haechan has an oral fixation. biting his lips. his nails. whenever you see him, he always has a lollipop on his mouth and if he doesn’t, he’s painting hickeys across your skin. you hated his oral fixation, especially when makeup and clothes proved useless to hide the marks he gives you. 

“why run?” renjun asks you, slipping his fingers underneath your skirt as he kneels. “you know you have nowhere to hide in the campus.”

haechan snorts. “or anywhere else.”

it’s always the same thing. you go to school. you sit in your first period for thirty minutes until one of them shows up. then the other boy probably felt a gut instinct that he’s missing out on the fun. last time, it was an empty classroom in the abandoned left wing. 

they like taking you there all the time, it was always dark, the blinds pulled and shut tight. not to mention it was incredibly dusty. but both male knew you’re afraid of the dark, exactly why it’s their favorite spot. but empty classrooms and supply closets are close seconds, too. 

“you’re so pathetic. useless—only know how to whine like a fucking pornstar,” he quickly comments, feeling you arch against him when renjun’s tongue comes in contact with the pearl between your legs. “my cumdump.”

you feel a sharp exhale against your lower lips. you shudder. renjun clicks his tongue in annoyance. “can you shut up? you’re making my dick soft with all that talking.”

but haechan had ignored him completely, blissfully ignorant of the petite boy’s frustrations as he angles your head up to crash his lips onto yours. when he slightly pulls away, still playfully nibbling your bottom lip, what he said next made your blood run cold. 

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6 hours before the annual purge

the price to pay for protection started rising again this year and you, much like your neighbors, are in a sense of turmoil. jamming the doors with cabinets and nailing your windows with wood is hardly enough to satisfy the gnawing feeling in your stomach. much less when you didn’t even have a weapon to wield other than a wooden bat and a cheap taser you bought on sale. 

“its not like anyone will be coming for you, right?” the little girl says, touching the randomest stuff in your apartment. her name was naeun and she never really liked pink and sparkles like most girls her age, maybe that’s why she took a liking to you. 

her mom works a 9 to 5 and her grandma stays with her on occasion. but the old lady loved to sleep, naeun said, so she gets the chance to slip out and come knocking on your door. you tried shooing her out of your apartment countless times but she’s stubborn. 

she reminds you of yourself. 

“well, i hope no one does.” you joked, putting on a turtleneck. 

naeun’s mom doesn't like you as much as it is, but if you yourself let naeun see the bruises on your skin? you’d hate yourself forever. “now, come on little missy, go back to your grandma. i need to head over to the bank to settle my protection fees.”

“but you just said no one is going to come for you anyway,” she whines stomping towards the door. “mom already settled ours yesterday becase grammy forced her to. mommy said it was just a waste of money because who’d bother to rob us anyway?”

a memory flashes in your head. two boys who’ve sandwiched you between them in the dark of a fucking supply closet at uni. wandering hands, labored whispers, curt giggles, one pair of lips trailing up your neck while the other up your inner thigh.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

you needed that protection. that was no slip up because haechan never makes mistakes. if he wanted to make you feel like some animal on the run after catching a whiff of trouble then he sure is doing a good job. 

“hey! i think you just went someplace else there,” naeun says, nudging your side irritably to get your attention again. 

you try forcing out a chuckle but it doesn't work, still deeply peeved by a memory from last week replaying vividly in your mind. if they ever mean what they meant (which you know they do) then this is now more than just trying to get through the night—you have to survive, prepare, and pray neither of them finds you. 

“i think your grandma’s right in doing what she did, naeun. with humans, you’ll never know.”

and just like that naeun went silent, bid you goodbye, and disappeared behind the apartment door.

the bank was a quick walk from your apartment. you hardly broke much sweat and you even managed to stop by the grocery store to make some last-minute runs. the store’s nearly empty, deserted of any human being as the seconds slowly but surely ticked away. it was only when you walked past aisle seven did you pause, the hairs on your back standing as a slow chill crawled up your spine. 

you look over your shoulder. 

no one’s there. 

you swallow, quickly looking down your watch to check the time as you made your way to counter. 3 hours before the annual purge. you needed to get your ass moving. you just need to grab one more thing and you’ll best be on your way. 

you practically ran towards the dairy section and just as you spin around, strawberry ice cream pint in your hands, you jump as he appears before you in thin air and you drop whatever you’re holding. 

“such a skittish little kitten,” renjun clicks his tongue, bending down to retrieve the ice cream on the floor. “here you go.”

you couldn’t even stare at him in the eye. your hands shook but it wasn’t because of the cold desert. now you get it. it’s his eyes you felt on you earlier, ever intrusive and piercing as he watched you from afar. was he stalking you?

“i didn’t quite catch a thank you, kitty.”

how foolish of you to think he’ll let you duck away without at least speaking to him, hm?

“thank… thank you?”

renjun grins, satisfied with your stuttering as he raises a hand to ruffle your hair—he ignores how you flinched away from him—before walking away with one hand in his coat pocket, whistling an eerie tune that can haunt your nightmares way after purge night. 

“see you later, kitten.”

if it wasn’t the whistling that set you on edge or that clear promise of your doom—it’s the pack of zip ties and duct tape in his hands.‏‏‎ ‎

you were watching a rerun of your favorite morning reality tv when it cuts to the dreaded blue screen showing the flag of korea. 

this is not a test.

this is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the south korean government. 

weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. all other weapons are restricted. 

commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. 

police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7 am when the purge concludes. 

may god be with you all.

you’ll never get used to the blaring siren that echoes through the empty streets. you can feel the floor vibrating and it travels throughout your whole body as the dread starts sinking deep into your skin. 

you’ve already double checked all your windows and the front door. activated the security system provided by the bank. and you’ve also already charged your taser and have hammered down nails into your wooden bat. fine. if they wanted to scare and bully you into a panicked frenzy, it did its job but fuck no will you go down without a fight. 

you shut all the lights, the apartment basking in the moonlight glow brought by the translucent curtains as you make your way to your bedroom, nearest the emergency exit just in case they barge through your front door by force. 

at first, nothing happened. it was peaceful. tranquil. you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it was. both inside and outside. you were almost tempted to cover your mouth in case you were breathing too loud. 

it’s silent. until it wasn’t.

your phone rings. it’s there, vibrating on your desk and you make long strides until you’re face to face with a set of numbers on your screen. an unregistered contact. there’s a debate inside your head whether to answer it or not, fingers hovering between the red and green button… until it eventually lands on the green. 

you put it up to your ear, hands sweating as you wait with bated breath for the person on the other end to speak. 

“kitten?”

it’s renjun. you don’t answer. 

“i can hear you breathing, you know. i can’t wait to see you. we’ll have so much fun together. it’s sad that i have to share with that imbecile but better half of you than nothing of you, right?” he laughs and you feel a rush of anger surge through you. yet, you don’t bother to give him the satisfaction of a reply. 

“i can see you’re angry, little kitty. while it’s cute and hot… don’t be. turn that frown upside down for me, wouldn’t you?”

but the blinds are drawn he couldn’t have seen you—

“you’re never going to get me, you fucking bastard. i’m not scared of you,” you sure do hope he can’t hear the tremble in your voice. “whatever you plan on doing to me, you’ll fail.”

you walk back slowly, eyes darting everywhere to look for a camera they could’ve installed in your room. they have connections and the money to do it so you won’t put it past them. 

“oh, my stupid kitty. how can we fail when we already got a head start?” 

the floorboard behind you creaks and before you could turn around, someone slams your head against the desk. you hear a crack, whether it’s the screen of your laptop or your nose, you couldn’t tell. the person is agile and silent as he maneuvers you to the ground and seals your lips with duct tape. 

“after all,” haechan giggles. “you can’t lock out what’s already inside, kitten.”

your phone lands somewhere near your head. renjun has already dropped the call and the line goes silent. 

squirming, you glared at the person on top of you. is this how you’re gonna go? you can’t deny, even you yourself find this pathetic. the security alarms you bought, the nail-studded bat, your taser, everything was all for naught? just because you didn’t check under your bed to make sure no one was there?

how long was haechan waiting? when naeun was still here? when you went out to buy groceries? 

you thought it would be fear you’ll be feeling as you get caught but the emotion isn’t present at all. instead, it’s white hot anger that overrides your system and forces you to act without thinking—and it just fucking saved your life. 

haechan always saw you as a vulnerable, sad little human being who couldn’t do shit on her own. it’s easy to underestimate you and that’s his first mistake. 

the second is rather foolish—not tying your legs up first. it’s all too easy to slam your forehead against his before jerking your leg up to knee him in the balls. 

you can see the anger in his eyes clear as day as you made a run for it to the kitchen, having come up with another escape plan—because surely if you went down the emergency exit, haechan would’ve caught up easily with those long legs after he’s recovered from your assault. 

your nose was probably bleeding and your head is in the early stages of a full blown migraine, at least you were able to function enough to wobble your way towards the trash chute situated near the stove. you had cursed that chute the first day you moved in here (who would put a trash chute next to a fucking stove) but the day has come for you to thank the gods that you have that in your house. 

going for a swim in all your neighbors’ trash is disgusting and unplanned (plus, falling down maybe six floors to your doom) but you’ll choose that over lee haechan and huang renjun any day. 

“don’t you dare fucking think about it!”

you flashed him the middle finger to tick him off. a petty retaliation for all the bullshit he and renjun put you through but it felt good nonetheless. 

“catch me if you fuckers can.”

and you were falling down the trash chute.‏‏‎ ‎

okay, yeah—maybe you should’ve thought it through before hurling yourself six floors down only for some half-filled dumpster to catch you but at least you’re still alive, right? alive and free, mind you. but you don’t have time to celebrate. 

it smelled awful and you swear your knees and elbows are bruised but you scramble to climb out and run away as fast as you can. 

it was only haechan inside your apartment. no sign of renjun but he did see you somehow and you have no doubt it was a camera inside that room. you didn’t have much time to ponder for how long they were installed in your room. it’s the least of your worries at the moment.

you’re outside. 

during purge night.

even if you did manage to escape it felt more like a win than a lose, forced out of your own apartment in nothing but shorts and a shirt—heck, you don’t even have shoes on!—it felt like they won. again. 

if you’re not going to die in the hands of some other wacko, you’ll die of hypothermia. how nice. 

you didn’t know where you were running to, the only thing you knew was you need to get the hell out of this neighborhood as fast as you can. you didn’t want to run in alleyways and risk getting stabbed for fun. maybe the sewer system… oh, right. you don’t have your phone on you and it’ll probably be pitch black down there. 

you really, truly, genuinely didn’t want to run so out in the open but it was the best you can impulsively come up with. 

when you feel like you’ve put a reasonable distance between you and the apartment, you stop, hands resting flat on your knees as you crouch to catch a breath. just as quick the adrenaline appeared as fast as it had disappeared. you feel the weight and tension crushing your legs, not to mention you’re really starting to feel that headache settle after headbutting haechan. 

you almost collapse against the brick wall. 

the last person you ever thought you’ll see jumps out from the corner of the alleyway and you almost broke their nose. 

until you saw who it was. 

“NAEUN?”

their apartment got raided, some buffy sickos who they had the misfortune of breaking into their house to purge. luckily they got away, but after getting attacked on the streets, naeun got separated after she ran for her life just like you did. you can’t help but feel sorry for the little girl, who experienced the full effect of this godforsaken holiday. 

this is bad. you can’t leave her but it’s tough enough to have to fend for yourself. you’re not so sure whether you can protect another human being but you’ll have to try. 

“did your mom or grandma tell you anything? anything at all?” you ask, crouching to her eye level. “you said your mom knew the way… where? what do you mean?”

“mom said they’re providing refuge on the other side of town but it’s a 30-minute drive. walking would take longer.”

shit. you didn’t want to risk it. you don’t have a car and you’d rather die right here right now than walk another step out in the streets—

“who’s ‘they’?”

“i don’t… i don’t know. she didn’t say.”

you licked your chapped lips. you can’t trust what she’s saying, not when you didn’t even know these people. it’s too risky, not to mention you’re already running from not one, but two people.

naeun sits next to you against the bricked wall of the alley, looking down at her lap. “i’m scared,” she admits. you hear a tremble in her voice. “are mom and grammy de—”

“no,” you cut her off, pulling her tiny body against yours. when you feel her fists clutching your jacket, you swear to protect this girl with your life. “no, they’re not. i’m sure they’re heading there now to the refuge center just like we are.”

her head pokes out, looking up towards you. “we’re going? i thought you didn’t want to.”

you shake your head, wiping her tears. “well, it’s the one way for you to meet your mom and grammy, right?”‏‏‎ ‎

walking down the streets during purge night—man, this has got to be the most ballsy thing you’ve ever done after that one time you spat at renjun in the eye. you managed to find a litter of bodies way into thirty minutes of walking and you nearly sent naeun flying onto the asphalt with how hard you pushed her back. she couldn’t see this mess, you’d be damned to allow a nine-year-old walk right into psychological trauma. 

you pocket a gun—you didn’t have enough courage to fight with a knife. you wiped the blood off using your shirt before shoving them down onto the garter of your shorts. you didn’t bother to take their shoes, none of them would’ve fit you anyway and it’ll just slow you down. 

“hey, are you alright? is that blood—”

“it’s not mine, naeun. come on, let’s get moving.”

for two hours you walked towards this mysterious refuge center on the other side of town and both you and naeun managed to evade death three times. 

the first attack: a group of high schoolers with their uniforms on. there were three of them, about your height, and while you weren’t responsible for the blood on your shirt, you’re not so sure about their lot. they looked crazy, excited even, but sloppy in the way they flung their knives and bats around. their first purge, you assumed, so it was fairly easy to take them down. a bullet to the head worked like a charm. naeun didn’t say anything when you urged her out of her hiding place to flee the scene. three bullets left. 

the second attack: it was a surprise, one that got you stabbed in the shin of your right leg. it was a drunkard with a knife, you could smell him as you walked past by his slumped form in the sidewalk. he wasn’t moving, so you thought he was dead and it was poor judgement on your part. it’s pathetic getting injured this way, you thought, but at least it was you who faced the consequences and not naeun. two bullets left.

the third attack: two men but deadlier than the girls and the drunk. you didn’t get to reason out with either of them, not when they drove their cadillac at 140 miles per hour and nearly ran you over. a chill crept up your spine when you saw the bloody, naked women strapped down onto the hood. victims. you didn’t engage in any form of combat, it’s impossible, so you took naeun in your arms and ran straight to the back alleys. number of bullets remain the same.

three lucky strikes. 

three times you’ve cheated death. 

but time is up and your luck has run out. 

“beating up a girl? what a coward, if you ask me,” you say, spitting out a tooth after someone kneed you in the face. you were in no position to say such things when they’ve got you busted up and bloody, left eye swollen after one hard punch. 

naeun is nowhere to be seen. 

good. 

who knows what these assholes could’ve done to her. you told her to run so she better fucking run and make sure she lives through this nightmare. 

another kick flies to your ribs and you lie sprawled on the dirty pavement of an alleyway—what an uncool way to die but at least you’ll die with a clear conscience. 

you passed by city hall a few minutes ago. surely, the refuge center is not too far from there. naeun will make it safe. she’ll make it. 

“what’s that look on her face? is she dead?”

another one scoffs. “well… if they’re after her then she’s as good as dead.”

you blacked out. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

you hate the scent of disinfectant. it crawls up your nose and you hate how the stench is so strong you can taste it on your tongue. this isn’t heaven, not when you know you’re better off burning in hellfire.

unless you weren’t dead—your eyes shoot open, sitting up in haste as you clutch the thin blanket. 

rows upon rows of the same cot you were lying on greets you. people injured, some standing, some sitting. there were people treating them, too, but they were in normal clothes so this can’t be a hospital. in fact, it looked like you’re in some warehouse, stacks of metal crates sealing off all entrances. 

“it’s the refuge,” you whisper. 

“you’re awake!” before you could even turn around, a body launches itself onto you and nearly makes the cot collapse. judging by the small frame and the pitchy voice—

“naeun, be careful!” her mother hisses but the girl in between your arms couldn’t care less. if she’d been an adult, she’d be squeezing the life out of you. when she pulls you closer, your healing ribs made a strike of pain surge through you. 

you groan, bowing in the pain. distantly, you can hear the mother and daughter fighting and it was a banter you’ve never experienced with your own mom. it nearly made you tear up from the overwhelming wave of emotions you were feeling but all else disappears when a person tenderly grips your shoulder. 

“thank you for taking care of my granddaughter.” the old lady was smiling appreciatively as she stared at you. 

that was it. it could’ve been the happy ending to a gruesome and bloody storyline—it should’ve been, family of three reunites again and that was all thanks to you, right?

but even heroes have their own bad endings. 

you heard the ticking of the grenade only seconds before it detonates. the other refugees didn’t even have the time to take cover as some closest to the sealed doors were sent flying so far back they crashed into the row of crates behind you. 

you were severely injured, limping, ribs broken, and you only had one good eye to rely on—yet the first thing you thought of was protecting naeun. maybe the midget had a way of worming herself into your heart. but before you even push yourself off the cot, a figure emerges from the smoke. 

petite and harmless, pretty as the tips of his hair grazed porcelain cheekbones. renjun’s eyes are as cold and calculating as can be and it’s the only thing that terrifies you to no end. when he opens his mouth, anger is hidden well underneath that calm tone. 

“i’ll give you one minute to come here willingly.”

there’s no room for bargain, he needn’t when he knows you have absolutely nothing to offer him but yourself. he doesn’t finish his sentence but he trusts you’re smart enough to figure out the silent threat—come, or he’ll turn this place into a fucking bloodbath. 

cornered and weak, defenseless. weird how they have a fixation for calling you ‘kitty’ when they’re the cats in this chase. 

“naeun,” you whisper, trying to crane your neck to look for her in the filth of rocks and debris. please don’t be hurt.

you freeze when you feel a barrel pointing at your head. it was only there for seconds, haechan probably doesn’t have the guts to hurt you in any way permanently (unless it’s inflicted with his own hands and not through some other medium). 

“ah, look. now we have matching black eyes,” he giggles like a madman, craning your neck up and the leather in his globes brings discomfort to your skin. 

you see the way the other refugees looked at you—scum, dirt on their feet that brought about trouble in their lives. they were already badly hurt as it is and now, this happened? you don’t blame them. 

not one man tried to stand up for you as haechan hauls you up and throws you down on renjun’s feet. your ribs were screaming and you’re cold and so, so afraid. with shaky fingers, you gestured towards the crowd. “just... please, don’t hurt them. they don’t have anything to do with this.”

renjun coos. such a cruel smirk for a pretty face. “aw, such an angel my darling is. always thinking of others instead of her own safety. funny because i don’t think you’ve ever done such a thing for me and haechan, though. i wonder why...”

the latter digs his heel in your injured legs and you scream as black starts to surround the corners of your vision. you tried to crane your neck back, pleading eyes wanting to look at the assaulter but renjun’s calloused hand is gripping your chin too tight.

“should we make a bargain, kitten?”

you stare deep into renjun’s eyes. he knows you don’t have anything left, he can see it in your glassy eyes, too wide and vulnerable. he’s doing this all for show, trying to make you even more desperate and self-aware of your eventual demise.

and you thought haechan was the only cunning one.

“what… what bargain?"

renjun practically gleams in pride. “i’ll let everyone walk free—even your precious little naeun—that’s her name, right? the little girl you’ve been protecting the whole night?—we’ll let her and everyone in this building walk away unharmed. that’s my bargain. you know how those work, right? now, you need to give me something i want.”

forcing you to offer yourself up to them.

what a brutal way to crush your pride.

choice wasn’t an option. if you don’t oblige and choose to run away on your own, they’ll kill them and still hunt you down. you gotta say, it was a tempting bargain that appealed to the sense of heroics in your heart. naturally, you have to choose where there is less blood shed. and as renjun lets go of your chin and lets you look over your shoulder to meet little naeun’s eyes, how she sobbed against her mother’s arms and shook her head and screamed…

“hurry, kitten. i don’t like to be kept waiting.”

you know what needs to be done.

“me. i’ll give you… me.”‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎

they stood playing a game of pool in the dead of night. it’s peaceful inside the estate while the city beyond rampaged and burned. they achieved their goal, had finally seen an end to a plan that had been set in motion for years. they’ve succeeded and the broken woman lying on the bed meters from the pool table is proof of their victory. 

“don’t you just love it when an elaborate plan works like clockwork, injun?” he asks, voice like trickling honey as he hits number 9 with the cue ball. 

the other, more petite male, rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. “oh, please, people like us always triumph, donghyuck. it’s nothing new. although i am surprised that little girl and her so-called “family” played along so well. almost had me fooled.”

“i agree. it's such a shame they had to go.”

‎

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‎

jenoluck (c) all rights reserved

[smallish-viking]

Hiccup the Third, King of the Wilderwest - a HTTYD book fanfic

A year after the war, Hiccup struggles with the pressures of kingship.

3000 ish words

Hiccup struggled to focus on the pages in front of him, eyes growing weary of letters, maps. Forcing himself to conjure solutions to problems as old and complicate as the Archipelago itself.

‘Hiccup?’

Camicazi peered around the door of the hut, flooding the room with the golden pink of dusk, her hair illuminated like a halo.

‘You spend so long in here we are beginning to forget what you look like.’

Hiccup looked at her, everything in him was aching to step out those doors and into the light of the evening, but his work tugged at the edges of his mind.

‘The Meathead land claims will be there in the morning. Come on, Hiccup’.

She was right, Hiccup thought. What use was a King who couldn’t think straight? He reached his aching, ink stained hands to his head and carefully lifted the crown and placed it on the table. Despite its weight, the crown fit him better than ever.

Camicazi grinned as he followed her out into the summer evening.

The golden light hit Hiccup like a physical blow. He stretched out his arms like a bird before flight, feeling the sea air flow between his fingers and blow back his hair. He breathed it in, almost desperately, and closed his eyes, relishing this feeling of weightlessness.

On the clifftop sat a small collection of huts, nicknamed ‘King’s Corner’, built flat and squat to survive coastal storms. Some were lined with books for reading or study. Others were used as meeting chambers where the Council of the Wilderwest gathered for discussion and meetings were held with representatives of the tribes. Hiccup had his back to them as he looked out to the sea. The last of the fishing boats were returning now, and their long shadows were etched into the dazzling blue and golden water. It was low tide and a few small figures could be seen setting out nets on the wet sand among the waders and gulls. Some dragons flew overhead with the cormorants, heading home to roost. There were other dragons, too, who scampered through tall grasses which were ablaze with the day’s final effort of sunlight.

Hiccup and Camicazi began to walk along the clifftop together. Wordlessly, Camicazi handed Hiccup his helmet. It was bashed and scratched thing, scarred by a lifetime of adventure. Unlike the Crown it was weightless as it sat upon his red hair. She reached up and adjusted it on Hiccup’s head, moving aside a lock of hair so the Dragon Mark was visible.

‘That’s better.’

‘Thank you, Camicazi,’ said Hiccup, his voice hoarse from hours of silence.

She flashed him a smile. ‘No problem’. Her eyes met his. There was a fierce warmth in her gaze, like a bonfire in winter, but, too soon, it was gone. She ran ahead of him and swiftly performed a few cartwheels on the grass.

‘So’, Hiccup ran up to her, ‘what have I missed?’.

‘Well,’ Camicazi breathed as she sprung upright again. ‘Tuffnut Junior won a friendly axe fight with Dogsbreath the Duhbrain.’

‘Uh huh’.

‘Gobber beat Baggybum in an arm wrestle. So Baggybum stole his trousers and they called it quits’.

‘Right.’

‘And my mother and your father had a bet on who could rustle the most sheep.’

‘And who won?’

‘My mother of course, she’s the undefeated champion! Better luck next time, Hiccup my boy!’

They had reached the tavern. The familiar sounds reached Hiccup from within, the ambient noise of scraping chairs and chinking glass, of dragon shrieks, laughter and fights about to break out. Camicazi went in first, peering around the corner as she did. She held the heavy oak door open for Hiccup and he stepped in. The shutters were open, so the dying light of the day cast golden beams over the Vikings eating and drinking at the tables and illuminated those who talked and swayed at the sides. Hiccup lingered at the back with Camicazi as he watched them.

Even though the tavern was bustling, Stoick looked up when the door opened, face lifting at the sight of his son. With a single motion of his head, he beckoned Hiccup and Camicazi to join them. Stoick the Vast sat among many of the old warriors of the tribes; Valhallarama of the White Arms and Chunky Thighs, Gobber the Belch, Big Boobied Bertha and several others. Hiccup slid down next to Stoick as Camicazi went to join her mother. The impressive stature of his father loomed beside him. Hiccup nestled into his shadow, a wave of comfort coming over him as he slipped into the role of his father’s son, a boy again.

‘How’s it going, Hiccup?’ said Stoick as he clapped Hiccup on the back.

Hiccup let out a heavy sigh. ‘Tiring’.

‘You’re doing a fine job son. A fine job.’

A large tankard of mead slid down the table and came to a stop by Hiccup’s hands, its contents spilling over onto the oak wood table. Gobber flashed a wink in his direction as Hiccup glanced upwards, and he raised the tankard in thanks. The drink was sickly and burned as Hiccup swallowed it but he welcomed the way that it warmed his insides.

Raising a little on the bench, Hiccup peered over the head of his father to scan the faces of those gathered in the tavern. He was looking for someone; a mop of curly chestnut hair, a pair of glasses beside a placid vegetarian dragon. He found him. Fishlegs was sitting in a secluded corner of the tavern, head bowed in conversation with Barbara the Barbarian. Old Wrinkly’s new allergy remedy must be working as Barbara's cat was prowling along his shoulders and, if anything, it looked like Fishlegs was enjoying it as he ran his long musicians fingers through its black fur.

Hiccup smiled to himself and slid back down into his seat. He was there for a while, basking in the conversation of the old warriors. They spoke of old battles won, and lands lost to fire and time. Some were old stories that Hiccup remembered being told when he was a child. They seemed strange to be spoken here, they belonged to a different age, Hiccup thought, the boy he was when he first heard them seemed so far from him now. He felt like an outsider among his company. Marked somehow. Their faces were all brandished with the Dragonmark, scarred and aged by war. They laughed together but there was a shadow of grief in their eyes; everyone had lost something to the dragon flames.

‘Excuse me, King –.’

Hiccup was pulled from his thoughts as a voice from behind him cut through the others. The bench squeaked as he wearily pushed back from the table and stood to face Baggybum.

‘I’ve been talking to Thuggery, fine lad, who says that the Meathead islands to the East that were destroyed last year need to be rebuilt so that they can move back there. I was thinking that we could take some supplies, wood and iron and such, over there on a few ships and help them out. The tricky thing is the lands lie just south of the Winter Wind of Woden -’

A sudden weight dropped in Hiccup’s stomach. A tangled memory arose that was too sharp to touch. He took in a long breath and stared intensely at his uncle, trying to prize himself away from the fogged window to the past. Baggybum had a scar that stretched over his left brow. Hiccup knew it. The Battle of Flashburn’s School of Sword Fighting, the first of many dreadful days.

‘– you see, and Mogadon wanted the village to be positioned on the West side of the island. That way the harbour will -’

The scar was little more than memory, a shallow wound compared to the tear in Baggybum’s heart, the absence where his son had been torn away, first by betrayal, healed, then broken again by flaming arrows and deep water. The hero that never was.

‘- four Hooligan ships should be enough, I think, but we might be able to borrow some Peaceable supplies along the way - ’

The eyes of Baggybum were the same as his son’s. The stormy blues that Hiccup grew up dreading the sight of, and the inevitable onslaught that soon followed. There it was again. The sudden assault of guilt, a raw wound reopened.

‘What do you think, Hiccup?’

He forced his mind to resurface, to the present, to the words of his beloved uncle. What was he saying? Hiccup felt sick.

‘I, um…’

Words clogged in his mouth.

Useless.

His thoughts weighed like rock.

Hiccup the Useless.

Stop it, please.

You aren’t the King that we wanted, but maybe you are the king that we need.

Snotlout appeared in Hiccup’s mind. Not ghostly, through the fog of memory and heartache, but clear, as if he was standing in front of him. Bruised and tear stained, the Black Star glistening on his chest.

‘Don’t you dare lose it. That Star is very important to me.’

There was a hand on his shoulder. Comforting, gentle. Hiccup obeyed its pressure without really thinking about it. Only as he walked blindly through the crowd did he realise that it was his Grandfather who was leading back outside.

The sharp sea wind collided with Hiccup’s body. The tavern doors swung shut. He walked back along the clifftop, followed Old Wrinkly until they came under the shelter of one of the few trees that were scattered among the heath.

‘It’s ok, Hiccup. Breathe. Just breathe.’

Hiccup hadn’t noticed his rugged shallow breaths. His shoulders tense and jaw set. Away from Old Wrinkly, he withdrew, throat and eyes stinging.

‘I – ’

He tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat. Old Wrinkly reached out, his withered hands held Hiccup’s face, and when Hiccup met his gaze, he saw the pride that glimmered in his tired, bright eyes.

‘Oh Hiccup, my dear boy.’

They drew their arms around each other. It was not a gentle thing, that embrace, Hiccup held onto his grandfather as if he were the only stone structure in a violent storm.

‘This is the hard way,’ said Old Wrinkly after a while, ‘to become a King.’

They broke apart and his hands clasped Hiccup’s arms.

‘You’ve already done what the sagas will sing of. You’ve defeated a great enemy and saved the Barbaric Archipelago.’ Hiccup noticed that in the fading light, Old Wrinkly seemed to blend into the silvery wisps of cloud that blew towards the ocean. ‘Now comes the hard bit. Kings are remembered for the glory of battle, the might of the sword but great leaders, Hiccup, the leaders that are truly revered, are known for the love and devotion that their people show them and the better world that they work together to create.’

‘But that’s exactly it!’ replied Hiccup, ‘everyone is looking at me to be this perfect leader.’ He threw his arms into the air. ‘Not long ago I was Hiccup The Useless, the bottom in every class. Let’s face it I was a rubbish Viking, and now I expected to be this great King. Wherever I turn there are people there expecting me to do the perfect thing. To live up to their hopes.’ His arms came to rest on his head then he dragged them down over his face. ‘We all lost so much in that war, so much, and I’m expected to put it all back the way it was.’

‘The truth is, Hiccup,’ Old Wrinkly took out his pipe and begun to fill it. ‘The world will never be as it was. It grows and evolves like a living thing.’ He lit the pipe and drew in a long breath. ‘It’s your job to be like a father to it, to guide the world, to care for it, and set it off in the right direction.’ And then he smiled. ‘Just like training a dragon. You’ve ventured to the perilous Wild Dragon Cliff and you now have a wriggling and smoking basket under your bed, and the adventure has just begun.’

‘And maybe you can train a dragon better by talking to it then yelling at it,’ followed Hiccup, ‘yes, I remember.’ He laughed wearily. ‘Well, that’s certainly easier said than done. Sometimes yelling does seem to be the only language this lot understand.’

Old Wrinkly let out a smoke filled chuckle. ‘Yes, it has always been the way.’

They stayed there in silence for a while. Old Wrinkly smoked his pipe and Hiccup watched the dragons that scuttled and squabbled along the shoreline.

‘Hiccup!’ There was a shout from behind. Fishlegs and Camicazi were coming towards him, Camicazi struggling to keep up with Fishlegs’ long strides without breaking into a run.

‘That’s where you are!’

Old Wrinkly gave Hiccup a knowing look and patted him on the shoulder before turning and heading back towards the village. He raised his pipe in greeting to the others.

‘I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Fishlegs.’

‘Yeah, see you then.’

‘What’s happening tomorrow?’ asked Camicazi.

‘Old Wrinkly has been teaching me how to be a healer.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I reckon it’s a pretty useful skill to have. It’s been days since I’ve seen you Hiccup

Before Hiccup could reply, Camicazi cut in, ‘that’s because you spend all your time with Barbara the Barbarian.’

Fishlegs blushed a deep crimson.

‘I really think she likes me you know.’

‘I think she does, too,’ said Hiccup. ‘But more importantly I know her father likes you as well, he seemed genuinely impressed with that letter you wrote to her.’

‘Really? How do you know?’

‘I was in a meeting with him last week and he mentioned it. He was saying how he wanted to get rid of the “old fashioned notion” of parents dictating their daughters marriages. He was certainly hairy, but not as scary as I previously thought.’

‘Wow’ Fishlegs swung his arm around Hiccup, then the other around Camicazi as he faced the sea wind. ‘Love. You just can’t beat it.’

Camicazi wriggled out from underneath him. ‘Fishlegs, have you been at Tuffnut Senior’s home brew?’

‘No,’ said Fishlegs indignantly, ‘well, maybe a little, but the point still stands.’

Hiccup laughed and put his arm around Fishlegs. ‘Are you alright, though, Hiccup?’ Fishlegs said as he searched his friend’s face.

‘Yeah, its just this King business.’ He sighed. ‘It really weighs me down sometimes.’ Hiccup was feeling a lot better after his chat with Old Wrinkly. Mad as he is, he is certainly good at giving advice.

‘Hmm... I know what you need.’ Said Camicazi. And then she cupped her hands to her mouth and called out, sharp and piercing. ‘SHADOW!!’

A few moments later, as if Thor himself had chiselled out a part of the sky, the enormous Deadly Shadow dragon burst through the air, turning visible just as they touched onto land. Hiccup and Fishlegs stumbled backwards, but Camicazi, defiant as ever, stood firmly as she stared with glee at the beautiful dragon.

‘Hello there, Shadow,’ said Fishlegs as Innocence went to nuzzle his shoulder. He put his cheek to the side of Innocence’s head and stroked down his neck, now the green of the heathland.

Hiccup’s awe of the Deadly Shadow had never faded, and as he walked around them a swelling of immense gratitude rose within him for this beautiful creature, and for the dragons who flew in flocks overhead, for Stormfly, Wodensfang, The Windwalker and little Toothless. Camicazi reached out her hand for him, he took it and hauled himself onto Shadow’s back.

‘Where to?’ asked Patience.

Hiccup smiled. ‘Upwards.’

Shadow extended their enormous wings, which turned a dusky grey in anticipation for the awaiting sky. Hiccup braced himself and with a jolt, Shadow was off. Up, up, up they soared, wind rushed through his hair and he spread out his arms, tilted up his head, and gazed at the clouds which neared ever closer. Camicazi whooped and punched the air and soon, she too was reaching upwards to catch the clouds above their heads. Fishlegs had his arms around the neck of Patience and was peering round him, looking towards the ground that was disappearing rapidly beneath them.

For how long they remained there, Hiccup could not tell. He forgot all else. His world narrowed to this friends who sat in front of him, the gentle beats of Shadow’s wings, the sea below and the sky above. The air was sweet as he breathed it in. Very sweet. Hang on, is that drinking chocolate? Hiccup spun to look behind him and there, gliding along in the slipstream behind the Deadly Shadow, was the Windwalker!

‘Hello Windwalker!’ Hiccup called, beaming.

The Windwalker loop the looped in excitement and glided to position himself as close as he could to the enormous, sky coloured dragon. With the ease from a childhood on dragon back, Hiccup slid from the Deadly Shadow and onto the back of the Windwalker. And off he flew. Hiccup looked behind him to the others, a shadow of grey was rising in the east as night was beginning to reclaim the earth. Camicazi had positioned herself on Shadow so she was lying on their back, gazing at the sky above and Fishlegs was talking to Arrogance, but Hiccup couldn’t make out the words. He waved to them and they smiled and waved back at him, before the Windwalker climbed further upwards.

There is a moment, when a dragon ascends and soars upwards. When the land falls away and the world stretches wide, nothing but sky and cloud and freedom. It was Hiccup’s favourite time, when anything could happen and nothing yet had. He sat on the back of the Windwalker, and the wild night opened its arms. Tomorrow can wait.

[the-piece-of-spadille]

Eustass Kid | Sorrow

Pairing: Eustass Kid x female reader

Notes: Mentions of death, and injuries.

Word Count: 2k

Killer was the first to hear the dreadful news, he was making his way down the street to the local bar where he was to meet back up with Kid. He heard a hushed conversation between two gentlemen and at first, he thought it was just another made up rumor. There’s simply no way that the Raven Pirates were dead. Their captain, (Y/n), is apart of the Worst Generation and has proven many times over, that she’s worthy of that title not only to the government but especially to Eustass and his crew.

It wasn’t until one of the men spoke about a fight that involved two Admirals that made the Killer’s blood run cold. He remained hidden and waited for any possible truth in the conversation. The names Aokiji and Kizaru came up a few times and that was enough for Killer to grab both men and drag them to his Captain. He knew, in the pit of his stomach he knew that something happened. If any part of the rumor turns out to be true, his captain is going to want blood and so will the rest of the crew. One simply doesn’t harm Kid’s beloved. 

The Kid Pirates soon found themselves sailing off to a winter island in the New World. Kid and Killer were able to get more information from the two men at the market before Kid destroyed the town in a furious rage. There was suspicion about an informant that tipped off the location of the Raven’s to the Government. A fight had already broken out between Pirates and Marines before the Admirals made it to the island. It was an easy win for the pirates until the Admirals showed. They don’t have the details, but the fight took a gruesome turn and many pirates lost their lives. No report has been made yet by the Government, at least not publicly. Which in turn means no record of who’s alive or dead.

Kid always said that he would be the one to kill them someday. (Y/n), the captain, got under his skin like no other. They both live bold and fearless lives and often they came into contact on the seas as enemies. That was before the incident with the Red Hair Pirates. 

It was (Y/n) who managed to keep Kid alive after losing his arm. She allowed him and his crew to recover on a winter island that the Raven’s use as a second home. It was then the relationship between the two captains began to shift. She would often check on the man, get him anything he needed, and most importantly, told him not to stop chasing after what he wants most.

It became evident that previous and new threats held no real weight to them. They still fought like cats and dogs, but it was different. The crewmates on either side saw what was forming between them and knew it was going to be a long road ahead before either side could truly rest. It turned into a long and agonizing game of who would fall victim to their feelings first. 

Ultimately (Y/n) was the first to fall, she grew tired of all the pent-up emotions and grabbed Kid by his signature coat and pulled him down to her height and kissed him. It stroked Kid’s ever-growing ego that he did not give in first and he paraded around the island as if he found the One Piece for weeks. With the warm memory in thought, he breaths a heavy sigh as he watches the passing sea. “You’re fine… you have to be.”

Starring out at the vast number of graves of the fallen crewmember, (Y/n) stood in the middle of a snowstorm. It’s been a total of three days since the lost of her crew. All but two members perished by the hands of the Admirals. It took two days to make it to their island and another to bury and lay them to rest, but she promised them she’d bring them back home.  “Please Captain (Y/n.) You need to warm up and rest. It won’t do you any good if you freeze to death out there” the voice yelled across the field of snow. Instantly whipping her head around, glaring at the last remaining crewmate.  

The words “freeze to death” played over and over in the captain’s head. That’s exactly what Aokiji did. He froze them to death while Kizaru pinned (Y/n) to the ground and made her watch as the other shattered her crewmates into pieces. Tears roll down her redden checks as she looks over at the graves for the last time tonight and whispers a “goodnight.” 

(Y/n) makes the slow tread back towards the warmth of the building. The injuries and cold catching up to her. “Sorry about the choice of words Captain, you need to rest. You’re heavily injured and you shouldn’t be out in that storm in your condition.” Avisa, the youngest and newest member of the crew being only eighteen, covers her captain with her own coat and holds the door open. Avisa was incredibly lucky to be mostly unharmed after what they went through. “We should probably change your bandages and disinfect them again… has your eyesight changed?”

(Y/n) groans from shifting the coat open and revealing the endless bandages wrapped around her body. “It’s… it’s as good as it’s going to get, I’m afraid. I lost about half the sight in my left eye.” The young girl shifts around, grabbing more bandages and disinfectant before settling in front of the captain and unpeeling the dirty bandages from the wounds earning a whimper of pain.

“Wait, before you start with the disinfecting, I could use a drink.” 

“Sure thing Captain, I’ll go fetch you some water.” Just as the girl began to move a loud boisterous laughter bounces around the walls of the otherwise quiet room. The two women jump from their seated positions at the voice of a man. “She means booze girlie” the voice snickers. (Y/n) pushes the girl behind her and does her best to seem threating but it’s proving to be hard in her state. This nearly makes the man laugh again but he gets a glance at the wounds scattered across her body. 

The outside lighting does little to show who’s at the door and it wasn’t until the man spoke again that (Y/n) recognized who was there. “Take it easy doll” Kid spoke, hand in the air stepping inside. “Kid” her voice wavers. Taking a few steps towards him but stops and clutches her side in pain. His smile falters as he crosses the room to grab her and keep her upright. 

He’s familiar with the layout and takes her to a bed in the closest bedroom. “Sit before you bleed all over the floor.” He walks out the room to motions for the rest of his crew to come inside. Killer follows his captain back into the bedroom to inspect (Y/n’s) wounds. Avisa, with a bottle of opened booze sitting on the table, had already unwrapped her wounds and had proceeded to disinfect her wounds.

There’s deep bruising along her ribs on the right, followed by three holes no doubt left by Kizaru, scatter over her torso. The worse being on her left shoulder. Kid grabs the bottle on the table and takes a generous swing before offering her more. “I did my best to stitch the wounds with what we had, I’m pretty sure her ribs are broken. She was…” the young girl had to stop keep herself from crying. Killer, as gentle as he could muster, touched the swollen and bruised area earning a sharp intake of air followed by a cry of pain. 

“I’d say three are broken and the rest are just bruised. What did you use for stitches? I see a few places that need to be touched up.” The masked man turns away from (Y/n) to talk to Avisa. “Horsehair. There’s a small ranch not too far from here.” He nods in thought, “we’re going to need more.” The pair leave the room to go retrieve more supplies and to fill in the rest of Kid’s crew on her condition.

Kid looks around for something to cover her body and he spots (Y/n’s) coat, or rather what’s left of it. It was a beautiful thick, long coat, jet black in color, and made of raven feathers, now it’s barely recognizable. It’s a lot smaller in length now from being ripped. More feathers decorate the floor than the actual fabric. It also mirrors the holes littered in (Y/n). It was a gift to her from him. “Say something please.” 

Kid looks over with an unreadable expression and shrugs off his coat and walks over. His hand traces over the new scars and wounds that littered across her. He pays extra care to the open wounds before his amber eyes meet hers. He brushes the hair out of her face to get a better look. Half of her left eye is clouded over with a faint scar to go with it. He knows now isn’t the time to get angry, but all he wants to do is tear the bastards heads off for hurting her. He can’t even begin to imagine what it feels like to lose her crew on top of everything. 

He takes a deep breath, something she has told him numerous times to do, and thinks back to what she said to him when he was in a similar situation. “It uh… adds character.” (Y/n) laughs until she feels the pain in her ribs. Kid scowls at her before dropping himself on the bed and his coat on her to cover her up. “Thank you for trying to cheer me up.” He makes a “tsk” sound before telling her to shut up. She grabs his hand and plays with his fingers to calm her nerves. “It was planned.” 

“What?” 

“It was Scratchmen Apoo who told the Admirals where we were headed. Had to be. He was trailing us for a couple days and when the Marines spotted us, they let him go.” A stray tear falls down her cheek before she can wipe it away. “We we’re cornered into an island, so we abandoned ship for the time being and fought. We were fine until those bastards showed. They started to take us down one by one. Kizaru trapped me underneath him and held me in place. Made me watch.” Kid wiped away her flowing tears and placed a long kiss to her hair. He’s never wanted to hurt someone so bad in his entire life. Forcing her to watch. “It was Avisa who saved me. And to think I almost didn’t let her join… she shot them with sea stone bullets.”

The anger rolling from Eustass can probably be felt in the next room. He recently formed an alliance with Apoo and was already having his own issues with the man. This is the final piece straw that broke the camels back. Kid knows he can’t be trusted, and he need to be brought to an end. “I’ll make them all pay!” 

Kid jumps up ready to storm out and take his frustrations out on whatever he can get ahold of but (Y/n) speaks up just as he’s at the door frame. “I want to be apart of taking them down. I need to. For the sake of my crew.” Kid turns around and stomps into your direction and places a heated kiss on your lips. 

“Hurry up and get better, because your sailing with me.”  

[hyuckssunchip]

Do You Believe In Fate?

Pairings: Jaemin x Reader

Words: 2.4K

Warnings: some angst, some fluff

Summary: 

Fate /fāt/ noun

                       “The development of events beyond a person’s control”

There’s a plan for every one out there, at least that’s what Jaemin wholeheartedly believes. What happens when fate takes a different path?

Because love is a little difficult, sometimes you have to say goodbye.

collab: for @rvse-hvvck​‘s Sometimes Letting Go

“사랑이 좀 어려워”

            ~Bye My First...

“Do you believe in fate?” You felt the soft rumble of his words vibrate through you as your head rested on your boyfriend’s chest.

“Hmmm?” 

“Fate? You know, like people that are destined to be together?”

You nodded in response, eyes still shut, sleep dragging them down. Jaemin tended to do this. It was always well into the night when he decided he wanted to get deep and profound. You enjoyed this side of him just as much as you enjoyed the goofy energizer bunny he was, but you preferred these discussions to happen when you weren’t trying to get well needed sleep. 

“Do you?” It came out as a murmur, but Jaemin was listening so intently that there was no way he could’ve missed it.

“Yeah, it brought me to you.” You smiled at his comment, he never failed to make your heart flutter. 

Your eyes wandered over the silhouette of your boyfriend, his body language telling you that what you dreaded was in fact reality. 

You hadn’t fought in months, but things weren’t right.

You wished you could remember the exact date, you wished you could pinpoint the day that things began to fall apart. Maybe then things wouldn’t be the way that they were now.

It didn’t happen overnight. It was slow, but at the same time it happened so quickly. It snuck up on you.

You could feel it, but you ignored it, for days, weeks, months. Far too long. 

It was at some point when there had become a defined line on each side of the bed, yours and his. It was a separation that had come gradually, and without noticing, you had found yourself spending countless nights huddled alone on your side of the bed. The small gap between the two of you had grown, it felt like a canyon, impossible to cross.

It didn’t used to be like this.

The date nights you had once adored, fizzled to an end. 

“That one’s Venus… I think.” You giggled at the face Jaemin made, utter concentration.  He had studied the constellations just for tonight, but it seemed that no matter how much he tried to focus, his mind was running circles around you.

He gave you a shy smile and peered under his lashes. Rubbing the back of his neck he was quick to admit that he forgot. 

“I’m gonna be honest, the only star I see right now is you.”

It should’ve made you cringe. But the smile that accompanied the line was more than enough to make you swoon.

You stared at his side profile, something you could never get used to. You felt the urge to reach out and touch him, to assure yourself that this was real.

Getting caught staring at him, you tore your eyes away, nervously searching the sky for a new constellation, something to get your mind off of him. You hummed to yourself, a nervous habit you had taken up.

He shuffled closer towards you, your heart falling to your stomach. There were no words that could explain how you felt. It was a nervous sickness that made you feel nauseous, but at the same time it was butterflies dancing in the pit of your stomach, dying to be let loose.

Your heart was beating so loudly you were sure that he would notice by now. It was in a matter of seconds that you realized that you were only inches apart now. The specks in his eyes visible, sucking you in.

You gripped the fabric of the blanket below you unknowingly, a way to keep you grounded. 

It happened in less than a second, but lasted for what felt like forever. It wasn’t until you felt the lingering faint breaths that you had realized he had kissed you.

He pulled back slightly, taking a glance at your reaction, timidly making eye contact. 

“Oh.”

“Oh?” He asked, a slight waver in his voice.

“That was fast.”

He sat back, rolling his head back up towards the sky, a grimace pulling taught over his features. You could see the beginnings of regret accumulating in his posture.

“I’m sorry.”

You bit your lip, trying to find a way to rephrase that.

“Could you do it again? It was too fast, I feel like I may have missed it.” You smiled shyly at the way his eyes popped open, eager to find yours.

Despite his reaction, he didn’t move and you frowned, becoming impatient. 

You leaned over and pecked his cheek, watching as a light blush raced across his face. 

That was the last time hesitated with you.

The wild nights that you thought would never end, midnight memories that made your heart swell. They left with the rising of dawn.

Your legs rocked in rhythm with his, the swing creaking under the constant movement.

“Do you think that there’s a plan for us?”

“A plan?” 

“Yeah, like we were supposed to meet … like do you think there’s someone up there watching us and smiling cause we made it? We found each other?”

“Maybe.” You giggled at the sudden thought, “Maybe they’re laughing at us right now.”

He turned to face you, “Why would they laugh at us?”

“We’re kind of boring aren’t we? Kind of dumb too.” You laughed, throwing your head back, almost falling off the swing set.

“So? We can be dumb and in love.” He pouted at you, head tilted as if waiting for you to argue.

“Yeah, you’re right.” There was a pause. You watched the breath of air condense and then disappear. 

“We’re pretty lucky aren’t we?” He was using that tone again, the one where you couldn’t quite tell if he realized he was speaking out loud.

“Yeah.” 

The two of sat in silence as he snaked his hand around the chain, grasping yours in his own tightly. 

“Let’s go to the beach.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that blossomed on your face.

“Now?” 

“Why not?” You laughed at the determined look in his eyes. 

“Alright.” Before you could even finish the word, you were dragged to his car, the warmth surrounding you for a moment.

His hand rested on yours throughout the drive, the soft music of the radio leaving a comfortable ambience.  

It wasn’t much later that you began to see the horizon fill with water, just the glow of the moon as light.

You felt the car slow to a stop, and the slight squeeze of his hand in yours indicated you arrived.

He gripped your wrist, tugging you to the trunk of his car, already set up from your last date. Together you fell against the pillows, tangling yourselves in the multitude of blankets.

Lingering in each other’s clutches you gazed into the scenery before you, the moon reflecting on the surface of the ocean. Only the sounds of your own breathing and crashing of the waves as background music.

It was some time later when the white glow began to pick up pigment.

The faded orange of the sun started to repress the once hollow black night. It was the only moment in the day that you could look directly at the sun, washing away any of the serene moments that hid in the night. Moments like these.

The comfort of insomniac nights, you would lay staring at the ceiling, talking about your future. They too disappeared with the moon. 

“What if we got a dog?” You laughed at his suggestion. 

“A dog? Why so sudden? Jaemin you can’t even take care of yourself, how on earth are you going to take care of a dog?”

He flopped backwards on the bed, “That’s what I have you for.” He winked at you, a sly attempt in winning you over. 

“Come on, Jeno and his girlfriend just got a dog, they go on cute dates with him all the time. I wanna go on cute dates with a dog.” He whined at you, tugging you into the bed alongside him.

“Then let’s borrow their dog. Taking care of a dog is a lot of work.” You poked his side, not willing to give in. As much as you adored the thought of getting a puppy with Jaemin, you knew how much work it would be.

“A cat then? They aren’t that hard to take care of.” He had turned to face you, trying to catch your attention.

“Jaemin, we’re not going to get a pet just for the sake of getting a pet.” You giggled, staring up at the ceiling and refusing to meet his stare.

“A goldfish?” 

“Jaemin.” 

“Fine. But a hamster would’ve been really cute.” He pouted beside you and you rolled your eyes at his antics. 

Seconds of silence later, you moved to get up, but before you could he wrapped his arms around you. 

“Don’t go.” He whispered, trapping you inbetween the sheets, his chest pressed tightly against your back.

You sighed at the sounds of his pleading, it broke your heart to hear him so vulnerable.

“Just for a moment.” You hushed back, not willing to break the mood.

A moment passed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

You felt his hand trail up your back, tracing the line of your spine. 

Your eyes searched the night sky, staring past the window at the sparkle of the city below you. 

Jaemin’s hand had reached a steady rhythm, slowly lulling you to sleep. 

“Do you want to live with me?”

It was such a big step, such a heavy question to have in the middle of the night. But you didn’t doubt your answer for a moment.

“Of course.”

You didn’t need to look at him to see the huge grin overtake his face.

“I want to wake up everyday with you in my arms. I don’t want to have to say goodbye, I don’t want to have to wait a whole day to see you.”

You hummed, finding comfort in his arms that reached around you, only to grip tighter. 

“I’m not leaving.”

He rested his chin on your shoulder, following the movement of your eyes, only to land on the face of the moon, watching over the two of you.

The two of you bathed in the moonlight for a moment, it was gone when you woke up.

It was in the moments in which you did nothing in particular that you felt the most content.

You stared down at your boyfriend, his head laying in your lap, his bottom half sprawled across the couch. The TV was playing in the background, not garnering much attention from either of you.

Your fingers ran through Jaemin’s hair, watching his expression soften the longer you continued. He had been silent for a long time now.

It was comfortable, something that you knew was dangerous. 

You leaned your head against the back of the couch, closing your own eyes, a wave of relaxation washing over you.

He spoke up quietly, never opening his eyes. 

“I think I could stay here forever.” 

It wasn’t something uncommon for him to say. He let you know often how much he wanted you to be his eternity, how much he believed you were his forever.

“Me too.” There wasn’t doubt in your voice. You were sure of it, just like you were sure that no matter how many live’s you live, you would find him again.

He rolled onto his side, facing towards your stomach as he cuddle deeper into you. 

“Jeno broke up with his girlfriend.”

You opened your eyes, surprised at his sudden admission.

“Really? I thought things were going so well though? They were so cute together.”

He hummed back.

“Is he okay?” You bit your lip, not liking the feeling you got in your stomach.

“Yeah.” It came out raspy, as if he was struggling to say it. “I don’t ever want that to happen to us.”

You tensed underneath him. 

“Me neither.”

“Let’s never even think about it, okay?” He tilted his head up to meet your eyes with his. A promise in his gaze.

A loud bang from the TV startled you, and you faced the screen. He continued to stare at you, fighting the growing knot in his stomach.

Contentment isn’t love. Contentment is settling, you don’t settle for love, you fight for love. 

But there wasn’t much to fight for anymore.

“I think we’ve had enough.”

You froze, you knew this was coming. In fact it should’ve arrived months ago.

It took all the strength and energy in you to nod. He was right. 

You collapsed onto the couch, burying your head into your palms. It still hurt, no matter how much you had expected it. 

You felt the couch dip and his body warmth let you know of his presence. Without a word he pulled you towards his chest, engulfing you for what may be the last time.

“I still love you.”

“I know.”

You nuzzled into his neck. If you closed your eyes, it didn’t feel like it was the end.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” Words didn’t need to be said or heard. You both knew why. 

It would be worse to stay here, struggling together, sucking the energy out of each other. It would be best to end things before you ended up resenting each other. At least you hoped that much.

He continued anyways, a brief silence not strong enough to hold him back. “I don’t know when it happened. It wasn’t something that you did, or didn’t do.”

Head still snuggled into his side, you refused to move. 

“I know, it wasn’t either of our faults.”

For a moment he stilled with fear, you could feel it in the way that his arms tensed around you.

“I’m being selfish aren’t I? Is this a mistake?”

You wanted to agree with him, you wanted to say with your whole chest that he was right. He was being selfish. This is a mistake. Why would he ever leave you?

But you couldn’t. It was the right thing to do.

“It’s okay to be selfish.” You forced the lump in the back of your throat down.

Whether he noticed the way your breath hitched in your throat or not, he didn’t care to show it.

“I don’t want to be.” He mumbled into the top of your head, and you savoured the feeling for the last time.

“Do you think they’re looking down at us laughing right now?”

He shook his head, a sad smile on his face. 

“You know, I think fate had a different plan for us.” 

© Copyright 2021. hyuckssunchip. All rights reserved.

[kuredono]

Sing Sing Sing [part 1 of penpals] | Fushiguro x gn!(clarinettist)reader

TW: mentions of throwing up, hospital despite the TW this is v fluffy! basically you and Meg have been penpals and you meet for the first time! but not in the way either of you would’ve imagined... 

"i think they're coming around now..."

"hello..?"

all you remember was taking a wrong turn down an empty alley on a sunny day, then you were in a cold building with an ugly looking monster holding the back of your neck.

you grasped at a knee, or maybe an arm, squeezing as your felt your stomach churn, though you kept your lips pursed together, willing for it to stay down.

"i think they're gonna be sick..."

"GOJO-SENSEI! HELP! THE CIVILIAN IS GOING TO THROW UP!"

fresh air suddenly hit your face and you threw up in a bush before everything went black again.

"-the thing up. afterwards it was pretty easy to deal with."

"you say that, but the civilian still got injured."

"hey! i didn't see you trying to catch them."

"i had my hands full already!"

your eyes were immediately assaulted with the bright sunshine as you tried to crack them open. you decidedly kept them shut and moved your lead weighted arms to cover your eyes.

"oh?"

"you awake?"

"what happened?" was all you could ask. you had tried to beat the ugly thing with-

"my clarinet!" you bolted up, eyes wide open and met with three equally wide ones (person one had a black blindfold?), but suddenly your head exploded with pain.

"go slowly. you hit your head pretty hard." a voice said as you groaned, squeezing your temples with your trembling hands. "do you remember what happened?"

"got lost walking back. woke up in a weird building and there was a funky looking thing. tried to run away, then some people turned up and the thing exploded. kinda gross."

"gross?!"

"i mean, they are super gross." 

"where are we? what's going on?" you dared to open your eyes again, more slowly, as you took in your surroundings. you were sat on the floor, leaning against a big black dog. how cute. you nuzzled your head into its fur, easing your killer headache. 

"we're in Akihabara, and i think you're concussed. we'd like to take you to a hospital." the one with white hair and the blindfold spoke with a kind smile.

"who are you?" you furrowed your brows together, feeling like you should run away because stranger danger ! but the dog was comfy, lulling you to sleep.

"ah, i'm Gojo Satoru, i'm a teacher at the Tokyo Jujutsu Tech High School, and they are my first year students. we were out on a field trip when we found you." the white haired male answered again. he was a teacher? you'd never be able to guess.

"Jujutsu Tech High School?" you repeated, the name distantly ringing bells. you turned your attention to the students. "i recognise that uniform."

"we've been in Akihabara and around Tokyo before! did you see us then?" the pink haired boy asked with a bright smile. you buried your face into the dog with a thoughtful hum.

"it's only natural we stand out you know!" amother voice voice sung.

"never in a good way." a calmer voice grumbled.

"i guess i just exude that kind of eye-catching aura."

"it's easy recognise beauty such as mine."

how did you get here? why was this happening to you? you were just performing with a marching band this morning, doing your absolute best and playing your loudest for someone. you wanted to stand out for someone. he said he'd come by but didn't. you weren't disappointed... well... you were, but you understood he had his reasons. he probably had classes because it's Thursday.

"Megumi Fushiguro?" you mumbled, the students around you falling silent.

"what did you say?"

"oh yeah, in Japan you say it the other way round don't you?" you chuckled, remembering how embarrassed you were when Megumi cared to point that out when you were discussing nicknames. "Fushiguro Megumi. think he goes to your school."

it was quiet for a moment before the students erupted into excited chatter, 

"Fushiguro! you know them?"

"why didn't you tell us!"

"what? i - i don't—" the calm voice was not calm, but his breath stuttered, "Y - Y/N?"

you had first met Fushiguro via letter in first year middle school, your middle schools partners for a penpal project. you had sent the first letter and even went through the extra effort to try and make a translation, though your characters were very messy so you made sure to also send the English original in case it was unreadable. it was nearly a month before your class got their responses, and it appeared you were the most lucky as Fushiguro's English was far better than your Japanese, and when comparing letters with your classmates, you had the most interesting response.

nearly a year and 7 more letters later, you were the only one in your class still in touch with your penpal, and with the year drawing to a close, the teachers explained that you could only send one more letter. so with a wish, you sent your phone number and downloaded several Japanese chatting apps. sure enough, 2 weeks later, there was a friend request on LINE from a Megumi Fushiguro. his profile picture was just a night sky, but you couldn't say anything, yours was sheet music. this anonymity continued indefinitely. at first you had no idea how often he was okay with you messaging him, and you added the Tokyo timezone to your clock app so you didn't message him at ungodly hours, but after a few months, Megumi would be your first thought when you saw a cute cat or something and you'd quickly snap a photo to send him. he also did the same, mostly pictures of the sky.

on Megumi's birthday, you sent a recording of you playing his favourite piece on clarinet, and for your birthday he sent you a playlist of songs he thought you would like. from then on, you continued to send him your repertoire and small recordings of your practices. then one day, when you talked to him about your most recent performance, Fushiguro asked for the link to the video. you did, but didn't tell him which clarinet player you were. he didn't ask either. you toed the border of your anonymity when you first moved to high school with a picture of you in your new marching band uniform, but from the neck down. you weren't expecting a photo back, but he surprisingly sent one back of his uniform from the neck down. his uniform looked much comfier.

then a spot for a Japanese high school exchange opened (one of the main reasons you chose to attend the high school you did), and though it was for second years, you fought and won the spot. you immediately messaged Fushiguro without checking the time in Japan. and as if that wasn't enough, the wind band in your Japanese high school were having a performance in Tokyo! Fushiguro was in Tokyo! you told Fushiguro, but then dread began to pool in your stomach. what if he didn't want to meet? you were totally fine with that. but you wanted to so badly! you remember your elation when he stopped you mid-anxious text ramble to say he would meet you.

you woke up to a white ceiling and the potent smell of disinfectant. the hospital curtain slid open to reveal a beautiful boy with deep blue hair and long eyelashes, his eyes widening at you.

"ah- good afternoon."

"good afternoon, how can i help?" you smiled, "i think you might have the wrong bay?"

"no. i- uh- do you remember what happened? do you, do you remember me?"

"um... no? i'm not really sure what you mean? i mean, i recognise your uniform- do you go to Tokyo Jujutsu Tech High School by any chance?"

"they said you would be concussed and you might have some memory problems..." the boy mumbled, "is it alright if i sit down?" your eyes darted to the curtain in panic, "ah, i'll leave the curtain open, our teacher is just signing you out the hospital, i'm Fushiguro Megumi."

"Megumi?!" you gasped, the boy smiling softly as you fumbled for words, "i- you- huh?"

"yeah... we have a lot to talk about."

"then, please! sit! i can't believe!" you covered your mouth with your hand, which did nothing to muffle your delighted squeal as he sat in the chair next to your bed. "wow. i mean, it's so nice to finally meet you in person!"

Megumi couldn't help smiling too.

"it's nice to see you too... and i'm sorry i didn't make it to your performance."

"hey, it's okay! we still met up!" you grinned brightly. Megumi then found his hands very interesting.

"and, um... your clarinet is broken..."

"that--" will be very expensive, the thought alone bringing tears to your eyes- your precious baby! it was worth more than your entire wardrobe and shoes! but you shoved that thought away until later. Megumi was here now, visiting you in hospital. "-actually, why am i here? what happened?"

Megumi thankfully didn't push the topic of your clarinet and gladly filled you in on what had happened. by the end of his explanation, you had your face buried in your hands.

"i'm so sorry you had to see that."

"it's fine, i've seen worse. besides, you were concussed, it's normal."

"still..." you whined, peeking between your fingers to find him offering you a hint of a reassuring smile. you gave in with a sigh, "i must say, that's some weird religion you have and they teach you, no offence."

Megumi chuckled, eyes distant, "you're right, it is pretty weird."

"but, um, thank you for saving me Megumi." said boy snapped back into reality very quickly, his cheeks flushing red as it dawned on you that everyone probably called him by his last name. "or do you prefer Fushiguro? am i pronouncing it right? sorry, i got used to-"

"it's fine." he uttered out, "Megumi is fine."

"what about honourifics?"

"whatever you're comfortable with."

"then... Megumi-kun? or is that too weird?"

the boy's cheeks darkened, "it's fine..."

"then you can call me Y/N-chan! then it's not as weird right?" you suggested, starting to feel the second-hand embarrassment.

"yeah." Megumi flinched too much when his phone chimed, and he hurriedly read it over. "Gojo-sensei -my teacher- said he's signed what you need to let you out. you just need to sign a few things before you go."

"right." well, the moment had to end at some point. you couldn't stay in the hospital bay forever. it was just an amazing coincidence that you had met Megumi, so you should be thankful you even had the opportunity to speak to him like this. "am i okay to move?"

"um, i'll call a nurse."

Megumi stepped out as you were examined by the nurse, and you saw him again in reception as you gave him and his teacher a thumbs up before signing the hospital forms.

"thank you very much for everything you've done. i'm so grateful. and please pass my thanks on to the other first years!" you bowed formally to the pair, Megumi flushing red while his teacher just waved you off.

"no worries. sorry about your clarinet and the concussion." the teacher responded.

"it's fine, i was always told i have a thick skull! comes in handy sometimes."

"i have to go now, but Megumi will walk you to the station, right?"

Megumi scowled at his teacher with an unreadable look in his eyes which seemed to make the teacher's smile brighten.

"well it was nice to meet you sir!" you bowed again at the adult, who nodded to you.

"nice to meet you too! hope you enjoy Japan. Megumi, be nice."

Megumi glared at the older man as he skipped away, seemingly pleased with himself for winding the younger up. Said male sighed.

"you don't have to walk me back if you're busy, i have GPS on my phone."

The boy startled at your comment, brows furrowed, before shaking his head, "it's fine, it's no trouble. i would feel better if i walked you to the station at least."

you couldn't stop the wide smile stretching on your lips, "thanks!"

"it's nothing."

you mentally thanked all the deities for letting you spend a little longer with your penpal, chatting easily as if you hadn't just met him less than 10 hours ago. by the time you had made it to the station, you had mentally prepared to part.

"so... i guess this is it?"

"yeah..."

"it was so nice to meet you- i cannot fully explain how nice this has been! even if i did spend a while in a hospital." Megumi chuckled at your words. you felt your cheeks heat up, his smile squeezing at your heart.

"i feel the same."

your train arrived.

"well. i'll message you later then?" you grinned hopefully, Megumi nodding. "hug? or do you not do those? i don't mind."

you nearly burst out laughing at the rush of emotions that flickered in Megumi's eyes- mostly panic. he blinked out his state when a giggle slipped out. he flushed red but nodded stiffly, opening his arms for you. you smiled as you wrapped your arms around him, feeling his wrap behind you too, surprisingly quickly considering how awkward he was at first. keeping it short because of the train behind you, you pulled away to find him also smiling. so he did like hugs.

"until next time?"

"yeah."

the doors shut and you waved to him as the train set off. and that was that.

your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Megumi: the school offered to pay compensation for the damages to your clarinet, so please let me know if and when you're free to go to a music shop in Tokyo to buy a new one.

sorry this hasn’t been proofread and the ending is kinda rushed because i just really wanted to publish it hahaha (catch me constantly editing this for DAYS now, so i probably shouldn’t post it but we die like men)

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 17 - With Him

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, how will it go in the end?, 4.8k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16

One finger tapped on the strap of his fanny pack as Alex listened for the right bus stop to be called. If all those months since he’d seen Willie had been long, this past week had been longer. Especially since the news about Caleb had hit hard and every minute in the studio now felt like the band was precariously teetering on the edge of a cliff. He was going to try not to let any of that get in his way today, though. He’d made it to Saturday and Willie was only a few streets away, and he didn’t care what happened for the rest of the day - it was going to be good.

Finally he heard the next stop announced for where he needed to get off and he pulled the cord that told the driver to make a stop. Stepping onto the sidewalk, his heart bounced around in its chamber like the Tazmanian devil from Looney Tunes. He was glad that Willie lived in the basement of the apartment building he occupied because it would’ve been the worst if Alex forgot which room he was in and spent hours frantically knocking doors.

It was hard to tell if he was moving quickly or if his mind was just racing, but in either case, he eventually found himself at the door. For a second, he simply took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, trying to get a visual of Willie immediately pouncing on him the moment the door opened out of his head. It wouldn’t exactly be unwelcome, but Alex was realizing how desperate he was to be with him and was amazed at how it affected his imagination.

Lifting a hand, he made sure he knocked loudly. Soon after, the door opened, and Alex was greeted with shining brown eyes, silky, gorgeous brown hair styled into two braids, and a smile he could make home in. Willie.

“Hey, come on in!” Willie was saying, standing to the side and gesturing for him to enter. Crossing the threshold, Alex gazed at the humble space, taking in the details with heightened interest. “This is mi casa!” He began showing Alex around. “We’ve got the main living space, very cozy. The kitchen to your left, but no dining room so it’s all criss-cross applesauce on the floor - makes it extra chill. Bathroom through the back. The sink and shower handles will sometimes shock you, so don’t mind all the electrical tape.”

It was surprisingly accommodating for a dingy basement, and Willie had already made little additions that spoke volumes about him without words. A king size mattress sat in the corner of the ‘main living space’ on the floor with a small bookshelf beside it. The bookshelf only had a handful of cassette tapes and a Walkman lying on top, with a few sketchbooks on the middle shelf. Next to that, the dresser had a small collection of vintage soda bottles and a camera sitting on its surface. Glow-in-the-dark star stickers covered the ceiling above the bed. Even a couple cat toys could be spotted on the floor. Immediately, Alex approached the area where Willie’s desk sat surrounded by sketches hung on the wall.

“So these are your drawings?” he asked, although the answer was obvious. They were so good. Willie followed him over, the squinty smile still in his eyes.

“Yeah. Some are new. Most of them are attempts to recover what Caleb tore up.”

Alex looked at Willie apologetically, even though the loss of Willie’s previous work wasn’t his fault. Without warning, a pressure on his leg and the sound of loud purring announced Sheldon’s presence. The cat looked up at him and blinked slowly, already begging for attention. Heart melting, Alex bent down to pet him.

“Hey, Sheldon,” he said. “I forgot how cute you were!” He smiled as Sheldon rubbed his head against his hand with more affection that he’d likely seen from any other creature on the planet. Well...maybe there was one other that matched it. Alex had heard about how pets could take on the temperament of their owners, and suspected this was a clear example. “He’s gotten so big since I last saw him.”

“Yeah, he’s supposed to be almost two years old, if Escobar guessed his age right.”

Standing again as Sheldon pattered off, Alex returned his attention to the wall of art, looking at the pieces more closely.

“So which one is your dad?” he mused.

Willie untacked one of them and held it out for Alex to examine. “This one.”

Holding the edges carefully, Alex gazed in amazement at the detail Willie had caught. The edges were certainly less defined, but the scene inside the truck was so easy to visualize that Alex could almost feel the leather of the seats and the windchill from the window. He wasn’t sure what began burning in his chest as he peered down at the image, but it was profound and complex.

“I’ve thought about seeing if I could find him, but I think with my memory it’s kind of impossible,” Willie told him.

“He looks so happy here. I don’t get why you would end up as a foster kid.”

“Yeah, I wondered that too. Maybe he didn’t have a choice?”

Alex looked at Willie’s face, and he could tell half of him was lost in a world of what-ifs and other questions. He was always trying to seem so easy-going, and to an extent he truly was, but he couldn’t hide the constant sense of upheaval that rested on his shoulders. At least, Alex was picking up on it more, now that he knew the things he did. He may have been biased, but he couldn’t imagine anyone not fighting their hardest to keep Willie.

Suddenly his gaze was drawn to the unfinished work on the desk, and recognized it as a portrait of himself.

“Wow.” The word fell out of his mouth.

“Oh,” Willie started with a hint of shyness. “Obviously that one isn’t done, so…” He reached to put it away.

“You got that far off of memory, though,” Alex said. “I’m impressed. And you make me look good.” He offered an encouraging smile. “Maybe some time today I could be a model for you?”

Willie cocked his eyebrow, surprise and playfulness making an adorable combination on his face. It made Alex’s smile grow wider.

“Well, we’ve got a whole day ahead,” Willie said. “Your wish is my command.”

“Okay,” Alex said, leaning onto his back foot casually, one side of his lip curling with intrigue. “Well, I wanna see where you go around here. You seem to have a knack for finding the best spots. We can play it by ear.”

“What’s that one song with the one phrase?” Willie asked. “‘Any way the wind blows?’” He sang shyly, clearly playing down what Alex could tell was a nice voice.

“Bohemian Rhapsody,” Alex smiled. Willie’s job at the record store was at least giving him a good taste in music. “Don’t worry, you’ll know everything about the classics once you hang out with me enough.”

An emotion flashed in Willie’s eyes and after a moment Alex realized what those words were actually saying. He held his gaze, hoping he could communicate his intentions clearly, unlike the last time they’d seen each other. Willie swallowed, and his expression remained excited as he loaded his backpack and led them out the door, board in  hand. Alex followed him, deciding not to question which direction they were going.

First, they made a stop to buy a bunch of apples. In classic Willie fashion, he went to a bodega, and this time he communicated with the cashier in rough Spanish. Alex knew he was showing off, and smirked at the notion that Willie enjoyed impressing him.

“So what do we need these for?” Alex wondered as they left the bodega. “Besides a ton of apples for lunch.”

Willie’s secretive smile made Alex raise an eyebrow.

“It’s a surprise.”

A little while later, they stood before the most unlikely place in all of Los Angeles: a horse barn. Staring at the building as if it loomed fifty feet above him, hands in his pockets, Alex gulped and a lump of dread landed in the pit of his stomach.

“Oh no,” he muttered apprehensively.

“Oh yeah,” Willie said, turning to him with a thrilled grin on his face.

Alex wasn’t exactly afraid of horses...he just had no idea what to do around them and therefore was not sure what to expect from them. Also, he would’ve worn different pants if he’d known this was on the agenda.

“I promise, they’ve got some really chill horses,” Willie tried to ease his nerves. “I’ve gone on this trail enough times. Don’t worry, you’ll know everything about riding once you hang out with me enough.” He winked as he threw back Alex’s line with a sly smile.

Unable to argue, Alex shook his head and used the hand in his pocket to gesture forward, signaling to Willie he was up to the challenge. He watched him practically skip inside and he had to jog to keep up after him. They signed in and then were led to two stalls.

Willie immediately gravitated toward a tall golden-colored mustang stallion with a dark mane, apparently both already familiar and happy to see each other. Alex watched him gently greet and essentially coo at it while comfortably stroking its nose and then feeding it an apple. He longed to have that sort of talent with other creatures, and simultaneously realized that he yearned to receive that same tenderness.

Once the horses were tacked up and one of the instructors had given Alex some brief pointers on how to ride, he found himself following Willie on a trail while mounted on a painted mare. The only philosophy he could adopt out here was to be gentle and not get lost.

“Not so bad, your majesty,” Willie called over to him.

An extremely nervous laugh elicited from Alex’s throat involuntarily, only making Willie laugh in return. Alex rode a little closer so they were nearly side by side on the trail.

“I’ve been here once,” he said. “I think I was about twelve? My mom thought that it would make me change my mind about taking ballet classes. We rode for maybe fifteen minutes before I got so nervous we had to turn back around and go home. Never made it through the full trail.”

“Man, that sucks,” Willie commented. “I didn’t know you did ballet.”

“Yeah, that and a few other types of dance. I was forced to quit a little couple years ago. That’s about when we got serious as a band, so I just found something else to bother my parents with.”

He could see the gears click into place as Willie came to a few conclusions about his parents and gave an emphatic nod.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to learn how to dance. That was the one thing Caleb had promised to teach me. He’s the worst, but he definitely knows how to dance.”

Suddenly, Alex remembered watching Caleb’s movements when he’d served him and the boys at the diner. Of course he could dance; everything had been fluid and smooth. All he could say to that thought was “huh,” at first. Then after a few moments: “I’ll have to teach you one of these days then.”

Willie’s eyes crinkled at the corners, happy at the prospect.

“Yeah, okay! Add that to our to-do list.”

Alex chuckled. They had a to-do list now. He bit his lip as he continued following Willie along the trail. It was a gorgeous day and in this area the sky was so clear compared to further inside the city. Greatly contrasting his experience from years ago, Alex felt himself become much more at ease and felt confident enough to take greater control of his horse. Willie pulled out his camera and snapped a few scenic photos every once in a while.

Eventually, they stopped at an outlook and Alex had to take in an awed breath. The view was clear for miles all around them. Green hills spanned the landscape in every direction with patches of city speckled in between. Even the ocean line was visible from there. How did Willie know how to find these?

“Hey, Alex!” Willie called, lifting his camera. “Say cheese!”

Turning to face him, Alex flashed a genuine smile as Willie captured him atop his horse against the scenery. He was usually pretty camera shy, but this time he really didn’t mind. Keeping memories like this actually felt important to him, unlike the many times he’d been forced to pose with his family at functions he’d also been made to attend. Those occasions had always felt so insincere - less about enjoying the memory and more about trying to prove their status as the polished, functional family everyone aspired to.

He saw Willie dismount for a moment and stretch his legs. Gripping the reins and looking around in uncertainty, Alex realized he’d gotten on before ensuring he could properly get off. Thankfully, Willie noticed and came up to him, hands raised.

“Okay, so just...carefully lift your foot out of the stirrup and swing your leg over toward me,” he instructed. Sucking in a breath hesitantly, Alex did as he said. “Alright, then...here.” Willie offered a hand for Alex to grab so he could slide off with ease. Landing on the ground, he leaned into Willie to gain his balance, and felt a congratulatory pat on his back. It took more restraint than Alex anticipated to not simply wrap his arms around him and sit like that for an indefinite amount of time. They had all day ahead of them; he didn’t need the sudden fear of losing him to derail things out of nowhere.

“Sorry if I look like a wimp about all this,” he said, letting go of his hand.

“Nah, don’t sweat it,” Willie assured him, shaking his head. “This is...this is new.”

His eyes seemed to take Alex in from head to toe and Alex could’ve sworn the charge in the air between them would buzz if they got closer, spark if they made contact. It was almost like that moment in front of Willie’s door the week before. For a few seconds they remained locked in that trance before Willie took hold of the horse’s reins and handed them to Alex.

“Technically this trail could take hours, but I’m guessing this isn’t all you’re interested in today,” he said. “What do you say we stretch our legs a bit and then ride back?”

Looking from the reins in his hand back to Willie, Alex nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Opening his backpack, Willie handed him an apple and then bit down into one of his own. Taking a bite, it was one of the most refreshing apples Alex ever eaten. They walked the horses a little ways and tried to get good pictures of the different views around them. Alex asked to try his hand with the camera and get a few good shots of Willie. He didn’t consider himself a photographer, but he doubted when the photos got developed that they would turn out badly. The way Willie smiled made him seem like he was made of sunlight from the inside out.

As they rode back to the barn, Alex kept replaying those moments where he’d refrained from making a move over in his head. This had been strike two. If he continued on like this, he was going to hate himself for the rest of eternity, he was pretty sure. Was it some weird kind of side effect of the whole ‘Willie come back to life’ thing? Watching him affectionately say goodbye to his horse once they were ready to leave, Alex looked at his own horse and raised a tentative hand up to her nose.

The mare gazed back, patience gleaming in her eyes. He finally set his hand down on her nose and gently rubbed it up and down, smiling a little to himself. This wasn’t so bad. He could do this - it was just a matter of getting through all the barriers he made for himself in his head. Moving his hands from the horse’s nose, he stroked along her neck, and caught Willie smiling at him from the corner of his eye.

“You wanna try feeding her an apple?” he asked.

Thinking for a few seconds, Alex nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Pulling one out of his backpack, Willie placed it in Alex’s palm.

“Alright, so hold it out in front of you like this…” He positioned Alex to offer the apple. “And keep your palm flat.”

Alex uncurled his fingers and after sniffing at it a little the mare ate it out of his hand. He could ignore the sensation of her mouth touching him because Willie still had his arm around his shoulder to hold him steady. They looked at each other, and Alex wished he could get a proper shot at Willie’s face at that angle with the camera.

“Looks like you’re gonna get the hang of this,” Willie commended.

Alex looked back up at the horse, a little bit of pride swelling in his chest. “Yeah, I think I will.”

Later, they went to the beach at Alex’s suggestion. He was perched on the surface of a picnic table, posed as if he were looking off into the distance. Willie sketched with great concentration, having taken his hair out of his braids so he could run his hand through it. The late afternoon sun brought out all the best color contrasts in their surroundings - one of the things Alex loved about coming to the beach at this time of day.

“So I have a question,” Alex started, trying not to move too much. His tendency to talk with his hands kept getting him in trouble.

“Shoot,” Willie prompted him, not looking up.

“Did Caleb let you go to school or anything? Or did he provide any sort of education at all?”

Squinting, Willie looked thoughtful for a moment.

“So, after the accident, he told me that I’d had to be taken out of school,” he began, continuing to sketch. “Which makes sense, I guess, if I forgot everything. I remember some basic things, like math wasn’t hard to pick up again. Once I was recovered enough to go places, he just let me go to the public library and find whatever I wanted to read. But he always insisted on not having reminders of who I was before and said it was supposed to be helping me ‘become my own person’. He got rid of things like my school yearbooks and old journals and things. I didn’t think anything of it at first because he’d just called it useless clutter and I believed him. As soon as he decided I was fit enough to work in the diner and help out at the hotel, he told me to forget about school. Anything else I picked up was from watching TV, or listening to the radio, or something. Sometimes I’ll just remember I know something after hearing about it and it’s like it was just always there.”

Listening intently, Alex marveled at the whole thing. The fact that Caleb was not only negligent, but actively discouraging Willie from knowing anything, made him wish he could take down the man’s whole career. However, he figured Willie probably had a lot of his intelligence still untapped. If he’d been able to get away from Caleb and somehow create a life for himself in the span of a few months, Alex wondered what else he was capable of.

“What’s something you remember?” he wondered.

“I guess I used to be really obsessed with space. Just planets and stars and all that. I can spout off facts about Jupiter’s moons and stuff like that. Did you know that the moon Europa has a saltwater ocean under a layer of ice?”

Alex shook his head. “No, I didn’t. That sounds really cool though.” He thought of the stickers on Willie’s ceiling and smirked a little before reassuming his pose.

“I sort of wish I could remember being in school,” Willie was saying. “Everyone else seems to just share all of those memories and understand each other that way.”

Alex saw his brow furrow, and could tell he felt left out. He pondered on his own experience growing up in public school. There was almost no other way he would’ve met Luke, Bobby and Reggie if they hadn’t all attended the same schools. While he could easily critique and complain about it to no end, he knew it was a privilege.

“School is definitely hard,” he told Willie. “But I did get my friends out of it, and I guess that makes up for it. If it’s any consolation, you could just complain about Caleb like he was your horrible English teacher who thought he knew more about the subject of your essay, but you cited all of your sources and they proved him completely wrong.”

Willie laughed. “Why? Did that happen to you?”

Alex bobbed his head from side to side and feigned looking thoughtful . “Maybe.”

“I kind of like reducing him to a loser English teacher. He just sounds petty and sad.”

“That’s high school,” Alex confirmed.

Leaning back from his work for a minute to take it all in, Willie brushed a hand through his hair.

“Here, you wanna take a look at it?” he said. Alex hopped off the table and went to stand over Willie’s shoulder at the drawing and was immediately rendered speechless. The detail was impeccable, but Alex was more impressed by the feeling he got looking at it. Willie had managed to make him appear...handsome, and pensive, and fascinating, like anyone else could look at him and create a million unique ideas of who he was. However, it wasn’t anyone else looking at him, it was Willie, and what he’d captured felt like the truth. Alex couldn’t really explain what that meant, only that it was an honest representation.

“Okay, I know I said the one back at your place made me look good, but this is...this is unreal.”

He could see Willie trying to be modest, but the corners of his lips couldn’t stay down. Funny enough, he appeared even more unable to find words, and simply beamed as he looked back and forth between his sketch and Alex’s face.

A sudden impulse came over Alex, and he kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it on top of Willie’s skateboard and backpack. Willie sat looking flustered for a moment.

“Wanna swim?” Alex nodded toward the waves, bidding Willie to follow. He didn’t wait for him to catch up as he immediately began running into the waves up to his knees. Alex knew his pants would be even more ruined the second he hit the salty water, but he didn’t care. Now the sun was beginning to set and the chill of the waves was refreshing, and he couldn’t express what he felt just then in any other way.

Willie tackled him from behind, climbing onto his back and nearly knocking him over into the shallow tide. Clambering back to his feet, Alex splashed water at him. They began a playful water fight back and forth, until they were both drenched. Eventually, Alex tried to catch hold of both Willie’s hands in an attempt to prevent being splashed anymore. He had the advantage of longer arms, but before he could get a tight hold of the second arm Willie’s leg swept under his and they both fell just as a large wave washed over them.

As the water pulled back, they sat in the sand in a tangle, laughing. All Alex could think of was how pretty Willie was in this light, hair swept back off his face with tendrils resting over his shoulders, sun gleaming in his eyes and constantly shining from the inside out. The laughter died between them and he caught a look in Willie’s eye that made him wonder if he appeared to him to be just as perfect in that moment.

This time his mind and body worked in sync as he lifted a hand and gently pulled Willie into a short, tender kiss. All the self-flagellation from earlier was washed away in one pure moment, and exhilaration moved into its place. It felt soft and sweet, just the way he expected it should. Just as quickly as he’d let go, Willie went in for another one, a little longer and a little deeper. One hand remained caressing his cheek while the other wrapped around his upper back. Alex couldn’t help smiling into another kiss; he was too happy to care about anything else. Hardly a week ago, this had been impossible.

As they let go, their hands came together and they looked into each other's eyes, both releasing a relieved chuckle. Willie looked at the rest of the beach behind them and Alex’s eyes followed, but at this hour there were too few people around and no one paying attention to them. Turning back to Alex, Willie sighed and shook his head with a smile.

“Wow,” was all he said, biting his lip.

“Yeah, I’d definitely do that again,” Alex smirked, until the joy in his chest converted it into a full grin.

A wave washed over them again and they both stood, shaking out their hair and trying to wipe off whatever sand they could. Heading back up the beach, Willie grabbed Alex’s hand so they could make their way up together. The sun was nearly set but Alex was sure it had just gone into his chest, bursting with excitement. Once they reached the picnic table, they gathered their things and Willie offered to carry Alex’s shirt inside his backpack on the way home. Thank goodness there were a few patches of grass so Alex could try to get a little more sand off his feet before putting his shoes back on.

“So how long have you been sitting on that?” Willie teased as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and they left the beach.

“Shut up,” Alex laughed, knowing he was being called out.

“No, really!” Willie bumped his side jokingly. “I want to know!”

Tilting his head back to try to remember, it didn’t take Alex long to give him the answer.

“Since day one,” he told him.

Surprise swept over Willie’s face as he looked at Alex.

“Seriously?” he asked.

Alex nodded.

“Me too.”

It was Alex’s turn to look surprised. Without saying another word, he took Willie’s hand in his and then kissed it before continuing back toward his place. The whole way they talked about all the different things they needed to do together in the future. Riding on more horse trails, dancing lessons, skating lessons, art modeling sessions, going to band practices and gigs, visiting the record store while Willie wasn’t working, etc. They both agreed that the entire day technically counted as a date, and all further plans would as well. Alex was reminded once again that he didn’t have a notebook to write things down in, and vowed to have one for the next time he saw Willie. Once they reached Willie’s door, they had already put their shirts back on and it was completely dark outside.

“Are you free any time next week?” Willie asked, still holding onto Alex’s hand.

“I wish I could say yes, but probably not. And as much as I’d love to give you my number, it’s really not the best idea.”

“Well, I could give you mine,” Willie said.

Alex shot him a confused look. Holding up a finger, Willie dug into his backpack until he found his sketchbook and tore off the corner of a page, quickly scribbling one down and handing it to Alex.

“It’s actually the one for work,” he said. “But if it’s what we can do for now, I’ll do it. Kyle won’t care.”

Looking at it for a minute and then stashing it in his now-dry pocket, Alex took hold of Willie’s chin and went to kiss him again. It was really hard to stop, but they soon broke apart.

“I gotta go,” Alex murmured.

Willie only nodded, squeezing his hand before letting go and slipping his own into his pocket.

“I’ll call you.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Once again heading up the short set of stairs to the sidewalk, Alex rubbed his lips together, relishing in the taste of what he and Willie had just done. He couldn’t imagine anything sweeter.

[biggest-stupidhead]

Path Walker (Levi x OC)

Summary: Emory and Erwin butt heads

AN: In future chapters there WILL be mentions of sexual assault I will put a warning on that specific chapter and other future chapters that mention mature content. 

Word Count: 2.4K 

A grunt escaped my lips as I fell to the ground, Annie loomed over me her icy blue eyes burning into my own. I risked a glance at Shadis who lurked on the edge of the clearing with that brooding expression, those hazel eyes locked on Annie and I. Annie followed my gaze and smirked,

"Nervous Black?" Annie purred, leaning forward to hoist me up.

"Never." I snarled, swinging my fist in a wide arc, effectively clipping her chin. She stumbled backwards, surprised by my dirty attack. Shadis raised an eyebrow at this move, not necessarily an impressive technique but definitely unexpected. I gave chase, closing the space between us, forcing Annie to take a defensive stance. When I first started sparring with Annie she almost appeared bored, now she was wide eyed and very alert. I kept my elbows close to my chest as I scanned her small frame for an opening. Annie was about the same size as me, making us a relatively equal match. She danced back a few more steps, seemingly desperate to get away from my lightning quick punches. This time I allowed her to retreat, my cobalt eyes taking in the way her chest heaved and her hair was displaced and slipping from her low bun. The usually composed Annie Leonhardt was only slightly undone but all of your comrades took note. I allowed my eyes to scan the crowd that had gathered. Shadis had also snuck up on Annie and I, his features hard and unforgiving.

"Draw?" I asked, my voice coming out airy as I spoke. Annie nodded, her chest still heaving as she recovered from our tussle. The crowd let out some 'aws' and 'boos' due to our little show ending so abruptly. I dusted off my pants as the rest of the cadets dispersed as Annie and I recovered. Annie held her hand out and I took it, shaking it wordlessly before departing to find a new opponent. I halted abruptly when Shadis called out to me in that hoarse voice of his.

"Black! Your presence is requested in my office." he stood a distance behind me as I raised an inquisitive brow. Odd, sparring practice still had at least another hour. Surely he wouldn't leave the cadets unattended to hold a private audience with me? The thought made my stomach clench with dread, I learned early not to trust men. I paused before saluting him and giving a curt nod. I walked briskly over the training grounds, kicking up dust as I crossed the vast clearing. Finally I found myself in front of the small building that the superiors used to hold formal meetings and also were the few offices on the property were located. I paused, a carriage catching my eyes, a solider stood by the horses, holding the reins. I squinted trying to see the symbol on his military jacket. But he was too far away, and I wasn't very keen on getting caught staring at a stranger. So I walked into the building, heading straight for Shadis' office. I knocked on the door, not expecting a response since Shadis was supervising the sparring practice.

"Come in." I jumped at the sound of the deep masculine voice on the other side. My hand hovered over the knob, had Shadis set me up? Was I about to get thrown in jail? No I hadn't done anything illegal, at least not recently. Was Shadis conspiring with those notorious human traffickers? Was I being sold? No I need to chill the fuck out. I gripped the door knob and pushed the door open. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of Erwin Smith seated comfortably in Shadis' chair, although he rose as soon as I entered. I saluted him quickly, leaving my hand over my heart even though he had dismissed me.

"You gave me a heart attack, thought I was going to be sold into slavery." I sighed as I crossed the room and sank into the uncomfortable wooden chair across the desk. Erwin furrowed his eyebrows and fought a smile off of his lips at my words.

"Why on earth would you think that? Have you been so terrible that Shadis has resolved to slavery as a threat to make you behave?" Erwin asked raising a bushy brow. I scoffed and leaned forward in my seat.

"No, I've been quite good actually." I said proudly, a smile curving on my lips. Erwin smiled fully before turning his attention to a folder that sat on the desktop.

"I've come here today to remind you of the deal that you agreed to three years ago." straight to business, gotta love the guy.

"Yes I recall." I said leaning back in my seat. God has it really been three years?

"Your graduation is in exactly two weeks, and I am very pleased with your rankings." Erwin said as he flipped through the file, his blue eyes suddenly flickered to my face.

"Oh, well I wish I could've made top ten but..." I trailed off, a blush dusting my cheeks.

"Ranked 11th in your class, still an impressive feat, this is a very competitive group of cadets." Erwin said giving me a pointed look. I could only nod at his words, still confused as to why he had come all this way to visit me.

"Anyway, I just wanted to ensure that you would be joining the Survey Corps as arranged, I'm sure as you know our numbers have decreased significantly." he said, slowly standing up, his tall build did make him a bit intimidating. I lifted my head a bit higher in an attempt to meet the mountain of a man without standing. He placed a large hand on the back of my chair, I allowed my eyes to flit over his calloused hand for a moment before turning to meet his cerulean gaze.

"I am aware." I spoke curtly, growing tired of his condescending tone.

"We are in need of promising recruits like yourself and to see you slip into another regimen would truly be devastating. Besides..." his hand slid off the back of my chair and onto my shoulder. My blood ran cold as he leaned down to my level and tightened his grip on my shoulder.

"There's a certain someone who is expecting you." his words sent goosebumps up my spine. It had been three whole years since I had seen Levi. Now of course Erwin was using him as an incentive to stay true to my word. I tensed under his grip, but still managed to nod.

"Does he ask about me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"No... But I know he thinks about you." Erwin said, I nodded grimly, not really knowing what else I expected, he was kind to even add the last part. I laughed bitterly, "Why do I even bother." I cupped my face in my hands and slowly drug them down my cheeks. Erwin still held my shoulder firmly.

"Just uphold your end of the deal." he whispered, with a final squeeze he released my shoulder and returned to Shadis' seat, sinking into the back rest.

"Don't worry I will." I said, my own sapphire eyes narrowing as I spoke lowly. He waved his hand, dismissing me. I turned and quickly left without saluting him, a small act of rebellion. Gods, fuck that, did he really doubt my integrity so much to make a journey out here to ensure that I remembered the deal? Outrageous, I didn't even want this I never wanted to be a solider. I was only a child when this deal was made. By none other than Isabel, which is the only reason why I have decided to uphold my end.

When Levi, Farlan, and Isabel had been arrested Isabel begged Erwin to go back to the flat and bring me with them, at first he refused. But then when he learned that I was twelve years old he changed his mind. Why you might ask? Simply because he realized that he could make me a solider, a pawn in the fight for freedom. So exactly one year after my family's arrest he returned and gave me false documents, freeing me from the underground city. I stumbled, leaning against the railing of the dining hall, so engrossed in my memories that I failed to see a large rock in my path.

I blinked, the images of the dank city still dancing across my mind. I looked up at the sky to see the sun sinking lower, dinner would begin soon. But my stomach was churning with nerves as I thought about the place I had grown up and the people who had ensured my survival. Isabel, Farlan, Levi, they had saved me gotten me out of that hellhole. Now only two of us remained and he couldn't even fucking write me. I straightened up, pushing off the railing I stormed back towards the barracks, a new found rage instilled in my chest. Or maybe it wasn't new at all, maybe it had always been there, a nagging in the back of my head. Levi was never keen with me, but surely he cared enough to at least ensure that Erwin fulfilled Isabel's wish. But then again maybe he only enforced the deal to honor Isabel?

I frowned, Isabel was one of the few people who showed me kindness during my short life, she was like a big sister to me. I finally found myself struggling to open the door to the barracks, my hands shaking with emotion. With a final shove I pushed into the room, the bunk beds all made with care. I flopped onto my bunk and buried my face in the stiff pillow. I allowed a few small tears fall into the fabric before I finally pulled away from the pillow and breathed a heavy sigh. I looked down where my pillow once rested to see the carefully folded paper that I kept stored underneath the pillow. I gingerly unfolded the worn parchment with shaky hands. My shoulders sagged when I finished, the image that stared back at me made my heart ache. A drawing that Farlan had done only a few weeks before everything changed, a family portrait of sorts, you and Isabel between Levi and Farlan, Levi was drawn with a slight curl of his lip, his own way of smiling.

Isabel looked vibrant and full of life, Farlan looked cool as a cat, and I looked like a snotty brat with missing teeth and ratty hair. At the sight of my messy hair I recalled I memory of Isabel attempting to comb it to no avail, Farlan tried and also ultimately failed. But Levi pinned me to the ground and viciously raked the brush through my hair, and succeeded in detangling the mess. You didn't talk to him for a week after that. A shaky breath left my lungs as I focused on Isabel's wide eyes and the way Farlan's had an arm carelessly thrown over my shoulders. What I wouldn't do to feel his warmth by me again, admittedly I'd had an innocent crush on Farlan. It was only natural seeing as he was the one to take me in so graciously. I yelped when the door banged open, quickly stuffing my precious keepsake back under the pillow. Ymir padded in first, her arms folded behind her head, Krista followed closely after her. Mikasa wandered in after the odd pair along with Sasha and Annie brought up the rear. The lot of us occupied this small section of the barracks, Annie was the only one to spare me a second glance before tossing her jacket onto the bed above mine.

"What did Shadis do with you?" she asked indifferently, such an odd tone that made me think she didn't really care, but still bothered to ask the question.

"He did nothing, it was an old acquaintance of mine that requested my presence." I said throwing my legs over the edge of the bed. Annie raised a brow but didn't question any further, she set to work on unbuckling her harness, and shortly after, stripping her white jeans off. When she tossed the clothing onto the ground a strange scent washed over me. It smelled simply raw a foreign scent that I had never caught a whiff of before. Just as quickly as it had drifted under my nose it was gone, leaving an odd feeling in my stomach. Hm how odd, I thought as I watched Annie pull on a pair of loose pants. Just as I opened my mouth to ask her if she had found a new perfume or something Sasha plopped down on my bed.

"Sorry you couldn't come to dinner, I saved you a little something though!" she beamed as she pulled a half eaten loaf of bread out of her jacket pocket. I couldn't help but smile, in an odd distant way, she reminded me of my dear Isabel, kind and hard headed.

"Thanks Sasha, I appreciate that." I gingerly accepted the gift, and took a bite out of the loaf. Sasha looked pleased with herself, she got up and left me alone on my bunk, Annie crawled up onto the top as I dusted crumbs off my bed. Come to think of it, that scent from earlier was familiar, maybe she used the same soap as someone? No it wasn't a manmade scent, it was strange but somehow I knew that it was uniquely her. Like pheromones or some shit, my nose wrinkled and suddenly I felt over powered by the scent. I looked up to see Ymir passing, her shoulders pulled back proudly. What the fuck, man they reeked how had I never smelled it before? They smelled like sweat mixed with an earthy musk, my eyes watered as the smell continued to overpower my senses. I fell into a sneezing fit shortly after Ymir had walked back to her bunk, drawing some curious glances my way as I continued to sneeze my brains out.

"You alright down there?" Annie asked, her head dangling upside down to look at me underneath her.

"Fine, just.... Allergies." I sniffled, rubbing my arm discreetly over my nose partially to wipe snot away and also to protect it from her scent. Annie brushed her bangs off her face to get a better look at me, her brows pinched together and her mouth opened slightly as if she was about to say something.

"Lights out cadets!" Shadis banged on the barracks door loudly, shutting up every girl in the room. Mikasa got up and extinguished the torch, plunging the room into darkness. I heard Annie settle back into her bed, and I followed suit, my nose still burning from the stench.

[perriewinklenerdie]

Taking my heart by storm (Ethan x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N: Hi guys! How are you guys doing today? It’s da weekend, bby. I’m back with another Friday fic. The idea for this one came to me when I was driving my cats to the vet and the storm was going on. We can all thank Mother Nature and her breakdown for that one entirely :D Also, the real MVP Naveen makes an appearance in this, because PB is hiding him and that’s some serious bs right there.

Summary: Ethan and Claire share a kiss in the rain in the greenhouse after storm cuts the lights out.

Enjoy! <3

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Since noon, the clouds have been crowding the sky, prompting the storm that was coming. Ethan’s shift has just ended when the first sound of a thunder rolled through the walls of the hospital. It was a hectic day, a wave of flu bringing more people to the free clinic and slippery ice sending many people tumbling to the ground, sprains and broken limbs overpowering the cases doctors had to face.

Unsurprisingly, Ethan couldn’t wait to get home. Especially since he knew for a fact that tonight, he wouldn’t be alone. Claire has accepted his invitation earlier that day, smiling every time she saw him, vision of them going home together never too far away from her mind. That smile of hers was what he thought about fairly often, and for the past few weeks, he was admitting it both to himself and to Claire. And with each day that he opened up to her more, it became easier to let her in.

The last time he saw her was two hours ago, when they finished consulting for a patient of the team. Since then, they communicated through texts, much to her amusement, and he had no doubts that she would be teasing him about it, like she always did. And he always would tell her that she’s lucky he cared about her, or he wouldn’t let it slide this easily.

He grabbed his bag and closed the office behind him, taking his phone out to text her once again, asking where she was. Not a minute later, he knew where he was supposed to go, aiming his steps towards her. No nurse or doctor dared to stop him, one look at his tired form letting them know it’s best to steer clear.

The entrance to the garden was tucked away from the view, and not many people knew about its existence, not even people working there. For that reason, the hall leading up to it was empty, as was the garden itself. The bench in the middle of the room was occupied.

Claire was lying down, the tips of her hair brushing the ground. Both hands resting on her stomach, moving up and down with every breath she took. Her eyes were closed, face a picture of complete calmness, a stark contrast to the angry wind that shook the trees outside and smacked raindrops against the glass of the orangery.

Ethan placed his bag on the ground by the entrance, then leaned against the doorframe, watching her silently. It’s a very rare sight for him lately, to see her so blissfully relaxed and detached from the issues of the hospital. Of course, when they were alone, it was fairly easy for both of them to forget about their problems. At work, though, the fatigue and dread followed them like their own shadows, never too far behind.

With the next breath of his, she stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open, feeling that she was being watched. She took a moment to let her eyes readjust to the brightness of the room, a small moan escaping her lips. Ethan reached for the switch, dimming the lights a bit to make it easier for her, giving her a clear sign that she wasn’t alone anymore. Her head turned towards him, the corners of her lips going up at the sight of him.

“Hi.” She muttered, her voice raspy and deep. Her body didn’t move, not even an inch, as he walked towards her slowly, keeping his eyes on her firmly.

“I thought you left, with how long ago I last saw you.” he mused, keeping a bit of distance between them, just in case someone was to walk in on them, however unlikely it was. Claire grinned, raising her hands above her head to stretch. Her words were strained when she spoke again.

“I have plans for the evening. Maybe even for the night if things work out.”

Despite them both being still in the hospital and having it hanging over their heads, Ethan couldn’t fight the smile nor the acceleration of his pulse at what she was alluding to. “I assure you that whoever invited you has similar things on his mind.”

Slowly, she sat up, her hair falling over her shoulders and framing her face and neck. With a slow and controlled move, she beckoned him closer, crooking her finger and looking at him with a sultry smile. It was dangerous, how fast he reacted accordingly to her wishes, without stopping for even a second to think about what they were doing. When he was close enough to hear her low whisper, she found his gaze with hers, her eyes darkening slightly.

“Similar things, huh? Are you sure?” she hooked her little finger with his thumb, then released it so she could slide her hand up his arm. Each time she touched him, a wave of heat ran to the very core of him. She traced the shapes on the skin on the inside of his elbow, all the while looking at him with the intensity that he’s seen countless of times before. “Why don’t you show me what you’re thinking about right now?”

He cupped the side of her face with his other hand, stroking her cheekbone softly, his mind giving up the fight with each move their fingers made. Getting down on his knees, he slid his palm down the side of her neck, squeezing her shoulder on his way, until, finally, he let it linger on her thigh. He opened his mouth to say something, but before any words could form, a harsh roar of a thunder interrupted him. Moments later, the lights flickered and then went out, drowning them in darkness.

“How long until the backup power modules begin working?” Claire muttered, as though the atmosphere dictated how loud they could be. Ethan listened to the hum of the rain before he answered.

“The power kicked back in immediately, so all the machinery is still working. As for the lights, though, it can be a few minutes.”

“How long?” she asked again, leaning towards him blindly, knowing only the general direction in which she should be heading. Lightning struck, bringing their sight back for a short moment, raindrops casting shadows on their faces, enhancing the lines of their features.

“Give or take, ten minutes. Why?”

“No reason.” She shrugged, pulling on his hand and bringing him flush against her, their lips brushing together. This close, she could almost see the hint of light, reflecting in his eyes, though she could have been imagining things. His hands found their place on her back, keeping them close together. He could argue that it was to keep them both safe, prevent possible injuries if one of them were to move and trip over something, but he knew damn well that his one and only purpose was to feel her warmth. To smell her perfume. To feel her arms wrap around him and keep him close.

With the next lightning, he focused on her lips. How the corners remained turned up, just as they were before the power went out. How the shape of them fit his too perfectly for their meeting to have been an accident. The pull towards her he felt was too strong for him to fight, and yet, for so long, he tried to resist it. Only to, in the end, dive into the storm that she was, slowly letting her consume him whole.

When the darkness came back, he pulled her into the kiss. It’s slow and light, unlike the quick kiss she gave him before she left his apartment that morning. Unlike the ravenous kisses they attacked each other with the night before, right after the door to his home closed behind them. There’s no heat, no desire other than that to keep the other close and not let go. There’s no doubt, either, just pure certainty, warmth and care, evident in the way his arms held her tightly and in the way her grip on his shoulders was secure.

Water continuously fell from the sky, drumming against the glass ceiling of the greenhouse, almost entirely masking the quiet sounds they were making. Claire wouldn’t have been able to notice how he hummed against her lips if it wasn’t for the gentle vibrations it was causing, teasing her nerve endings.

Ethan leaned away eventually, using a glimpse of light to look at her again. His heart hammered in his chest, his cheeks must have been flushed and he was sure that he looked positively infatuated. Staring at her in the dark, he could see with his memories how she glanced at him in moments like these; flickers of happiness in her eyes and a soft smile lighting up her face, brighter than any source of light ever could.

“That’s as close to the kiss in the rain as we’ll ever get.” Claire giggled quietly, moving her hand to stroke his cheek with the back of her fingers. He welcomed the sensation, leaning into her touch. She couldn’t possibly see his teasing smirk, but he had a feeling she knew it was there.

“Who knew such an idiotic idea could be so pleasant.” He wondered out loud, waiting for a reaction of hers. And he got just that. She scoffed, punching his arm playfully before falling into his embrace again with a sigh as the storm raged outside.

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Naveen slowly navigated the long halls of his hospital, flashlight in hand, searching for people caught by the darkness. So far, he managed to guide three lost patients that went on a walk and couldn’t find their way back when the power went out, and that prompted him to go on.

Knowing that not many of his colleagues were even aware of the existence of the garden, he decided to go there himself. How was it possible that people worked there for years but not know about all the locations in their workplace was beyond him, but he didn’t have time to wonder about it in that moment.

He called out loudly as he walked, listening in for any signs of voices, but there was no answer. No sound other than the angry howls of the storm outside. His flashlight shone rays of brightness onto the walls and the floor, and once he reached the greenhouse, it pierced through the glass and reflected in the leaves of many plants that grew there.

Upon entering the room, he called out again, moving the flashlight around slowly. “Hello? Is anyone here- oh.”

Naveen stopped abruptly, taking in the sight in front of him. He expected a lot of things, and a lot of people, but no matter how many times he blinked, the picture didn’t disappear. It was very much real.

Ethan sat up faster than he thought he could at the sound of his mentor’s voice. Some time has passed since the lights have gone out, and when kisses transitioned into a tight embrace, he pulled her onto the ground, both of them lying down so they could watch the sky as the clouds went by, lit up by lightning strikes from time to time. It almost felt like it could have been their first date, but neither of mentioned it.

When Naveen found them, Ethan’s hand was running up and down Claire’s arm, their bodies pressed close as the low hum of the rain almost lulled them both to sleep. Upon interruption, Ethan, and shortly after Claire, sat up, both immediately awake and aware of how busted they were.

They stared at each other for a long while, unsure what were the words that were supposed to be said. Eventually, Naveen broke out of the trance, nodding his head slowly in acknowledgement. In the darkness of the garden he couldn’t be sure, but he was pretty much certain that Ethan’s cheeks were taking on a bit of a darker color. It was Claire that confirmed it for him when she eventually cut the silence.

“Go easy on him with the teasing.”

Ethan’s head turned towards her in record time, his face spelling out mock betrayal, which made her laugh even more than she already was. She patted his shoulder with her extended hand, muttering ‘there, there’, a joke that he was clearly not amused by. Naveen watched them with a growing grin.

“You two are adorable.” His words caused the pair to look at him with surprise in their eyes. He walked towards them, extending his hand in Claire’s direction to help her up. She accepted it, standing up and pulling Ethan right along with her. “The lights are going to be gone for at least another hour, so you two should go home.”

Ethan’s annoyance was crystal clear in the way he spoke. “I can literally hear you smiling, Naveen, what’s got you so amused?”

“I’m just wondering, how did you wear him down, Claire? I’ve spent years trying to get him to go fishing with me and he wouldn’t budge.”

She laughed, squeezing Ethan’s arm before she walked towards the exit with Naveen by her side, telling him her strategy as though it was a well-kept secret. Ethan stayed in the garden for a moment longer, watching their silhouettes go with an easy smile before he followed them back towards the hospital.

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[mami-koppe]

Desperate - Dabi x Reader

This is my first fic ever in this fandom pls be gentl. no beta reader WE DIE LIKE SCUM. Also please note that english is not my native language so if you find something wrong *please* point it out 👀 Enjoy!

TW: smut, angst, mentions of drug use and abortion, violence, yadda yadda. aaa

Cyan eyes open up, alarmed and scared and anxious, only relaxing when following the rise and fall of the lump under the white comforter set just beside him. He knows he shouldn't be here; he's had a few more nightmares about a fellow villain finding out about your existence than he was comfortable with. In his dreams they would tear down your house, break the heirloom grandfather clock in your hallway, ravage all the cabinets and drawers (maybe they would find that picture of him under your Christmas-decorated pine tree, the only proof you had of his existence intermingled with yours, and you thought you hid it oh so well but Dabi's far more smarter than that). A shiver runs down his spine and he breaks a sweat when he imagines if Overhaul was the one raiding your apartment. The yakuza boss would most likely delight himself in breaking and putting you back together, again and again, only so he could leave in your bedroom wall a myriad of blood splatters for Dabi to find and grieve for. Chisaki would make sure he wouldn't even have a body to bury. Maybe if he was feeling lucky, not even a brick of your house would be intact, your whole life only resisting in Dabi's memory.

He wishes he could be honourable and selfless enough to say that's the main reason he never bothered to officialise your relationship; but even greater than the fear of coming home and finding your body reduced to a pulp, is the fear of being vulnerable (yet again). He kinda cares about you, yes, he can say that much, and anyone who has met you for more than 15 minutes know that you're in deep. He's not that emotionally stunted. But he's jaded enough to know that caring is a concept with many translations and definitions, and if you so happened to have a different one than he did, specially if that concept involved controlling and screaming and fighting and black bruises all over his back while his skin burned off at every flash of his quirk painfully taking over his body ... He couldn't just sit down and wait to find out.

Also, you seem pretty fine with this arrangement. He has a knack this has less to do with letting him roam free range, and far more with knowing that as soon as you express the need to define the feelings that have grown stronger and stronger for over three years, he will be out the door to never come back. And that simply won't do.

Almost as sensing his distress, you wake up and wrap both your arms around his neck. He tenses for a fraction of second, then relaxes, reaching out for the cigarette pack you leave in the nightstand just for him.

_ "What's on your mind, babe? You seem real distracted. I know you're usually kinda emo but that much brooding just isn't you. Are you okay? Perhaps you're having... cravings again? Did something happen? Was it crusty fuck again? If he tried to decay your face again, I'm so gonna fuck him up..." You run his fingers through his coarse hair, trying to show your adoration while lightly pressing your lips to his jaw and he shudders both from your ministrations and the mentions of his past cravings.

_ "...Whoa whoa whoa, calm down princess. Why are you even awake? It's still really fucking early for so many questions. One would think you would be out like a light by now, since we had so much fun last night, but guess I haven't fucked you hard enough if you still have half a mind to think about all that, dollface. And fuck you, I'm not emo." – he stops, cringing at his out-of-nowhere flirting and vague answers, hoping you don't see right through his crude words, thrown around in case you haven't noticed he's been shaking for the last 20 minutes.

Please don't notice. Please let it go. Please don't point it out.

_ "...Yeah, maybe you're right. But I should be asking you the same, it's 2am and you still got the energy to lewd me. And YES you are emo and well fuck you too. Forget I asked anything, love, if you want to we can talk about that tomorrow morning. Can't afford to be tense when tomorrow's gonna be such a long day, right? So what do you say about letting me tire us both out so we can finally have a full cycle of sleep?", you say, and in that moment he knows that you know.

The sudden pause in your sleep ridden speech tells that you have at least an idea that he's not fine in the slightest, but decided to just ignore it, knowing that your black haired lover wouldn't want to talk about it anyway. So you lift a leg just above his hipbone to pull him closer to your hot, warm core, both of you still naked and spent from your previous lovemaking, one of the few displays of affection he's completely comfortable with.

He runs his hands all over your sides, commiting them to his memory (just in case common sense comes to you without knocking and you finally leave him); suddenly his hands find your hair and tug at your nape, pulling your neck back to find his charred lips. Your smells mingle together, and it's all a blur of smoke, sandalwood, scotch and black pepper.

You kiss him, bringing his mouth towards yours with fervor, while slowly stroking his manhood, pausing around his tip, smearing his precum on your mouth with your fingers (you know he loves seeing you covered in him, and after all these years he wouldn't man up and admit it freely, so you tease him to no end). He can't find it in himself to be rough to you tonight, but it seems you have different plans because it doesn't look like you'll be patient enough for foreplay; and in a blink you are tangled in a mess of sheets and legs and sweat, him sliding swiftly into your heat, appreciating the drag of his swollen tip inside your pussy, going in and out roughly, the fast paced rythm of your skin slapping together only stopping when you feel the familiar head rush of your impeding orgasm and the sensation of his white hot seed spilling deep inside your throbbing center.

His low moans fill the room as he feels you tightly clenching around him; you cannot follow him in his vocal declarations due to being physically incapable of screaming anymore, a mix of pleas and gasps falling out your lips as he bottoms out and groans your name, fucking his cum deeper inside of you. The space between your foreheads close, both heavily panting near each others mouths, following a kiss that's way too sweet considering your personalities.

For a moment, he kinda wants to say those damned three words, but he will be dead before he makes a fool of himself like that, so he kisses your forehead and pull you to his chest, helping himself to a now dreamless sleep.

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

It's one of your biggest flaws yet: you are far worse in keeping secrets than you give yourself credit for.

In the five years you spent together, he has plenty of evidence to support this case – all the gifts that were supposed to be a surprise, the job promotion you were hoping to disclose about at a movie night in your house (that said promotion tumbling out of your mouth in one of your daily, unimportant phone calls), the stray cat you tried to adopt without his knowledge (because obviously he would say no without even thinking about it, but now Tama's getting fatter and meaner than ever and Dabi lives for it), and you always said it was the other way around, that Dabi was the one who was way too good at uncovering things that he wasn't supposed to.

And in that exact moment, he wishes you were wrong, because the ripped blue cardboard box he finds forgotten in your bathroom floor just behind the toilet – probably fallen, since it's a bad habit of yours to let your shit fall all over the floor and eventually forget to pick it up – looks too much like the ones he would see in drugstores and at that time Shigaraki made him work undercover for a week in a brothel to gather intel about a winged pro hero who was kind of a degenerate, and he freezes.

He sensed something wrong weeks ago, your delicious skin even more tender to the touch and your face perpetually stuck in a barely concealed frown. He tried to ask you what's the matter a few times, before finally granting you the same leniency given to him when he was having a bad day and wanted to be left alone.

Now the only things going through Dabi's head is "why didn't she tell me", "wasn't she on birth control", "what the fuck is going on" and suddenly he understands why his – wife? girlfriend? lover? fuck buddy? SHIT – always said that some things can't just be left ignored. He never wanted to get high so much in his life.

Like a man possessed, he goes through your trash (it's not like he's not used to some dumpster diving and other unsavoury survival skills, since being a kinda prolific villain can only happen so late in life and before that, you have an empty stomach and way less standards than you'd like to), pausing when he finds what he was dreading: a fucking plastic wire, adorned with two dark pink lines. His eyes begin to blur and he can only thank so much you're at work right now so you can't hear his raging shouts ressonating around your room.

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

He does what he does best: he ignores it, simply leaving it all exactly where he found it and waits for you to come home. He helps you cook your favourite meal – you insist it's his turn to choose, but he says he's craving yours – runs you a bath, making sure to douse every crevice of your body in that cherry body wash he loves to smell in you, makes love to you until your head spins and your body is feeling almost bloated with his essence.

Can't get anymore pregnant than that, huh?

He asks about your day, and you let it all out, and every time you make that face you do when you want to tell him something important, he kisses you until you're breathless and changes the subject.

He desperately hopes you choose to keep it.

Then, after you're sleeping soundly on his naked chest, he brings out the duffel bag he hid earlier beneath his side of the bed, gets dressed, gives Tama his beloved wet food, sitting him down for a few minutes of belly rubs and leaves your home, his home, sending you a text through his burner phone that tells you too much about an undercover mission for the LOV that might last for years and none about where your relationship stands.

He's never felt so inadequate. Suddenly he hates being a villain.

He hopes you might catch the underlying forlorn tone in his words – that this is a "goodbye", not a "see you soon" – and not foolishly wait for him to come back. But he kinda knows it is unreasonable to expect you to move on and find a more loving, present person to warm your bed, put a smile on your face, a ring on your left hand, give his only child a decent attempt of a family, promise you the world and keep that promise. He leaves knowing that much.

And as you wake up in the middle of the night, with a cold bed, an empty apartment, a text and the briefest memory of Dabi lovingly kissing your midriff, you cry out for what could have been. Said text was supposed to be monotonous, robotic even, and it's so much like Dabi to go on a mission without wanting to say goodbye in person (because he's too cool for that) that normally you wouldn't even bat an eye, but you know you'll never see him again because of the words adorning the end of your screen.

I love you.

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

Yet again, Dabi's dreams haven't ever been easy on him. He jumps out of the bed, startled, as he fumbles with a bag of white pills which he spent the last year or so sneaking from your sight and angrily swallows four at once; the image of a little girl with her grandmother's hair and his azure eyes, no older than three, tightly clutching his hand and smiling. It's way too early in the morning for this shit and he can't be bothered to deal with that yet. Not sober.

Papa, look! I've drawn us today at school! I've made sure you look cool enough like you asked, okay? That's you in your coat, that's mama, that's Tama and that's me!

He's not sure he should burn the image to his mind or off his mind. He still hears your stupid giggles in the back of his head (probably it doesn't help that he has been watching almost daily for the last six months that particular video of you hollering, high as a kite, when he and the LOV raided the compounds of a drug cartel that was antagonising their plans, and let's say that Dabi has come home that day with more than a few weed satchels).

Feeling the top of his head getting heavier and his eyes blurring with difficulty to focus, he clings to the porcelain sink in his hotel room, mindlessly bangs his head on the cabinet just below the small mirror until his forehead is openly bleeding – not that he can feel anything when he's like that anyway, but he DID always try – and lets himself fall to his knees, silently glaring at the floor.

He somberly notes that his blood has painted the bathroom floor a vibrant red. He hopes yours isn't painted too.

Later that day when he has already puked almost all the drugs out his system, he and Kurogiri are sent on a minor errand; some human trafficking ring leader, a former ally, was threatening to spill out their secrets and they were to break and enter, kill him swiftly and move on with their lives, no biggie. But as he steps into the compound – a shell orphanage, he notes – Dabi knows it's not going to be a normal mission. Soon as the children know the leader's dead, most of them flee, making a run for their long lost freedom; but a small group, maybe six or seven of them, stays. And usually Dabi is proud of being the nonchalant, motionless member of the party, but with the late events even he can't help to be a little horrified when he notices that children as young as four have the same eyes he had when he fled his childhood home, Ende- his house.

Children that have seen so much grief and despair they can't be bothered to exit the building, even when he irritatedly screams at them to get out already as the walls roar up in flames. They have no reason for escaping; their will to go on died way before their bodies did. He can look into their eyes and tell already that they will turn out to be like him, or worse. This would be the perfect time for a rookie wide-eyed pro hero to appear and save these innocent children just so they can grow up so emotionally damaged that they will turn to villainy, to be eventually caught and brutally murdered by the very same hero.

Dabi knows the kids will stay rooted to the same spot until they're engulfed by the flames or choked up in poisonous smoke and that's gonna take so much longer; he's already in deep shit with Shigaraki because he said "no witnesses" and so many of them have already fled, so he does what he does best – ignores the vision he has of that little girl, his little girl, embraced by the blue fire of his body as he gives the children the most quick, painless death he can think of.

Dabi's thankful that they don't bother to make a sound. He doesn't think he could stay clean for much longer if he could hear the white haired girl's voice in the squeals and pitiful sobs of the children who stayed behind.

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

He returns to his empty hotel room that day, still hearing Shigaraki's screeches ringing in his ear, and the only thing he wants to do is to swallow the whole bag of pills he still has under his mattress and doze off until he chokes up on his own vomit and doesn't wake up the next morning, but he cannot die, not yet, and that night he remembers the children's empty glares as he brings out the half full bottle of whiskey sitting besides his bed and drinks till he's tumbling unconsciously down the wall.

The morning after he wakes up a little emptier inside and his sheets are actually wet with the sweat he expelled during his goriest nightmare yet, but the possibility that yet another child is going to end like the ones he has spared killed the day before drives him mad with frustration. And then, he takes the longest steps he's ever taken in your home's direction.

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

This time, is your turn to wake up in a sweat. You can clearly hear the noise of a window lock being picked (your former lover did this way too much in the beginning of your relationship, so much you suspected that he did it for fun, even when you gave him a spare key), and the sheer panic that runs through your whole being when your brain computes it's the nursery window lock being picked, you grab the pistol Dabi gave to you after a night out with your friends almost went sour in a robbery, and runs to your newborn daughter's room. You can feel the tears gathering around your eyes, desperate to hear her make any sound – anything to know she's alive – and when you kick the door open, the gun in your hands seems heavier than it does when shooting, as soon as you reckon the black hair and blue eyes you loved (honestly, love) so much, you seem to forget how to breathe.

The father of your child is holding onto her so tightly, a pained but relieved expression on his face as he clutches her so close to his warm chest, and you feel something wet running down both your cheeks as he presses his trembling lips to her forehead, almost like he expected to find the spare room in your apartment just the way he saw last, empty and full of broken spare parts of utensils and furniture. Your daughter is not bothered at all, like she recognizes him even if she never met him before and your heart is so confused.

Is he gonna leave again?

You longed for him throughout all your pregnancy, wanting him to know he was going to be a father, wanting him to see her first sonograms, feel her first kicks but you knew Dabi could only be there when his mission was over. And you waited, even if every cell in your brain screamed at you for it, confirming what you already suspected – he's abandoned you, both of you.

He thought that maybe you would be gullible enought to believe he was gone for a few months, not the slightest intention of leaving you behind, but in that moment, he knows that you know. And as you choose to let it go once again, he feels all the weight on his shoulders disappear as you both say, in unison:

"Welcome home."

[kingseave]

King’s Eave - Chapter 4

TW: Death, monsters, fear, anxious tension, violence, vore, death, graphic violence

Eli awoke tasting iron, her throat sore from crying and screaming. Her eyes were blurry and stung horribly, and she winced as she blinked away blood. She struggled slightly, but found that she was unable to move her arms, and barely wriggle her torso. She was unsure if it was the unbearable pain in her sides or bonds that kept her immobile. She felt it might be the latter. 

When she came to enough to get a look at her surroundings, she wasn’t surprised to find herself in the belfry. This was Father Vigilus’s “nest”, where he kept a careful eye on his subjects from above. It was additionally his favorite place to take “guests” to have a “private chat with”, in which the guests were never seen again. Not even their bones were found. Eli shuttered at the thought as she took in the sight of one...two… three militiamen, none of whom she remembered the faces of. A tall, dark caped figure came up the stairs, who Eli did indeed recognize. Father Vigilus was a hawkish, severe looking man with large eye bags and had a permanent expression of a sneer plastered to his thin lips. In short, his appearance matches his horrid actions, making his body language sour and stiff. 

“Ah… just in time I see.” Father Vigilus said, flourishing his time piece in his hand, then clasping the thing closed and returning it under his cape.

Eli said nothing, simply staring at the man, seething with resentment.

“Oh my dear girl, it’s been too long since we’ve had such a heart to heart. Too long have you escaped the gaze of God.” He said threateningly, approaching her. “You will tell us your demonic knowledge, you wench, '' he yelled, slamming his hands on the table, forfeiting any niceties in exchange for intimidation. This did not phase Eli, who stared blankly at him with half-lidded eyes that seemed to be more interested in nonchalant resting than wasting any more precious time on looking at the man. Father Vigilus did not find this entertaining, and struck Eli across the face hard, throwing her body sideways slightly in the chair she was bound to. She gasped, gritting her teeth, side-eye glaring at the Father. A low growl emanated from her chest, and Father Vigilus smiled. 

“Did that give you a taste for what’s to come?” He asked icily, closing the gap between them. Eli growled aggressively, and spit in his face. The glob of mucus hit the man in the eye, and he dramatically rolled back, shouting. 

“You whore!” He roared, and punched her hard in the face. Her chair fell back, and before she could fall to the stone floor, the man grabbed her by her braids. Eli shrieked, tears pricking her eyes and welling until they fell and she sobbed. The Father pulled her up until her chair was level once again, and spun around, flicking the coattails of his cape as he moved. 

“I tire of our little game already, little miss Devil. Why don’t we bring in my little pet… he is much better at interrogation than I am. I think you’ll make quick friends.” He said menacingly, wiping his face with a handkerchief. 

“Bring the creature forth!” Vigilus said, shouting and gesturing vaguely at a small group of militiamen who stood in the entrance of the staircase. He strode over to the entrance, disappearing beneath the stone overhead briefly. Minutes passed and Eli gave herself pause to relax for a moment, she couldn’t wipe her face, so she allowed the wind to dry her tears for her. Her lip quivered as she remembered the distant, sad look her father gave her before his head rolled to the ground. Eli had a feeling that this would be her last memory before she’d be cut from life by her worst enemy. She was stirred from her moment of respite by the echoing sound of many separate footsteps, and following them, albeit slowly, the thumping of heavy, large footfall. Eli’s heart sunk into her chest as she remembered the stories Ysoba would tell her of the devils who dwelled in the basement of the church, and made a disturbing realization. The stories told that Church created monsters that were bound to the deep in the pits of the prisons beneath the chapel, and their claws were so long and spidery that any unfortunate prisoners issued cells closest to these wells were advised not to stay too close to the bars of their lockup, for these demons would snatch them from their beds when they were asleep. Some particularly traumatized inmates could recall the squelching and slurping that they could hear echo from deep within the pits that those very creatures made their homes. They were said to not be picky about what they ate, and would readily devour hundreds of rotting, plagued bodies when sickness spread. And now, Vigilus plans to bring one to the belfry to aid him in Eli’s interrogation, or possibly, her execution.

Vigilus walked up the stairs with more disgusting confidence in his step as he strode towards her. In his hand was a thick metal chain that snaked its way down the staircase. Two men with spears walked backwards slowly, pointing their weapons at a shadow that lumbered up the stone stairwell. Eli did not cower, but accepted that this would be her doom when said creature made its way to her. She swore she could hear the blood rushing to her ears as time flowed slowly past.

She gulped audibly as her eyes slid from Vigilus’s nasty smirk to the taloned fingers that clasped the stone. The claws of this monster were a glittering, void-black. The skin of the thing’s fingers almost matched them, and as its arms pulled the rest of its’ body forward, she could understand why the common folk called them demons. Its head pulled around the stone wall like a snake, it’s face somewhat humanoid but with a very wide, dragonic nose, it’s nostrils were narrow and somewhat vertical. Jet black feather-like fur started on the bridge of its nose and trailed up into a mane on its head that followed down its back, framed by two ridged horns. The skin of the creature was a mottled mix of a dusty burnt rose colour and a deep, gunmetal ash. It was heavily muscled, and its deeply striking amber eyes surrounded by red streaks of membrane glinted in the sunlight. The body of this beast was hulking and predatory in every right, the muscles in its back and arms rippled as it walked, and its teeth glittered pearly white as sunlight cast upon its face. The creature’s back legs were more animal-like, clawed at the tips like some sort of sick go at a lizard. It’s tail was thick and somewhat flat, and forked at the end like a snake’s tongue, but fading into a bluish lilac like a skink. What made Eli more sick than the ghastly sight of the beast was its sad, rippled and saggy stomach. It hung low in a starvation-riddle agony between its legs, the poor stretched out skin looking somewhat like a cat that was once pampered and now cast upon the street. It made Eli want to cry, and she wasn’t sure if it was in pity for the creature, or for pity for herself and where she might end up. That’s when she heard the dry, primal sound of the monster sniffing the air. She froze, and in the back of her mind, she felt compelled to smell the air too, as if summoned by some primal force she wasn’t used to. 

When she closed her eyes to inhale the air around her, the first tinge of information she received was the scent of old, metallic blood. The secondary scent that quickly overpowered the first was something she was shocked by. It smelled, to put it simply, like her. She could tell the beast was male, and that it hadn't eaten in possibly months. The rest of the scent was familiar, it reminded her of lonely sadness, of a campfire, and of coals whose origins were deeper than she could ever know. Her eyes brightened, and she finally made eye contact with the creature. He was already staring at her, his once-slitted, narrow eyes now rounded out like reflective, jet-coloured globes. They locked eyes for a few moments before Vigilus interrupted their silent communication with a tug of the creature’s chain. He seemed to let the Archbishop tug him around, even though he seemed perfectly capable of pushing back. The older man stood right in front of Eli, and bared his teeth in a sinister smile. 

“You will talk, or I’ll get our friend here to take off an arm or maybe a leg” he said, his voice close, and barely above a whisper. Eli looked from Vigilus to the creature, the corner of her lip twitching as she made lingering eye contact with those piercing yellow orbs. 

“Fine! I’ll tell you…” Eli said, faking exasperation and dread. “We Infernal hate…” she said, making a sour expression. The Father learned in. “We cannot eat or touch…” she fake gagged. “-Citrus.” She said with as much disgust as she could act out, and gagged again. She didn’t think her poor acting could convince the devout man, but his grin widened, and she was pleased to see that he was a sucker for it. She thought him a man of some level of intellect, but she must’ve been mistaken. She made quick eye contact with the chained monster, who seemed to be bemused, his brow raised slightly. His lips were curled slightly at the edges, the tips of his teeth poking out. He seemed amused at her attempt to trick Vigilus, or possibly more amused at Father Vigilus’ idiocy.

Father Vigilus noticed his “pet’s” reaction to the mentioning of citrus, and turned to look at the creature. The beast wrinkled his nose in faux disgust, shrinking down and attempting to look as tame and terrified as a gigantic abomination could. 

“Ah… seems that we should reconsider our use of silver salts in our practice” he said, turning to the leashed creature. Eli couldn’t hide her small smile, and she glanced playfully at the monster before her, flicking her dilated pupils first to him, then to the archbishop. Father Vigilus noticed the eye contact the two made, and yanked at the chain bound beast. This time, the creature did not allow the archbishop to push him around. The monster raised his massive head, pulling the Father up into the air for the excess chain was wrapped around the man’s gangly fingers. The devout man whimpered in what seemed like offense, as well as fear. The soldiers flocked the creature, ready to stab and slash at the archbishops' word. “Put me down, you vile demon, I command it!” He yelled, flailing. The beast’s tail simply flicked away the pikemen, who screamed as they fell from the tower and landed with a sickening crunch a second later. The motion seemed so easy and effortless to this being, and Eli watched in shock and disbelief as the beast walked the tied up man to the edge of the belfry where he allowed Father Vigilus to dangle a few feet over the edge. “God have mercy, let go of me!” The man shrieked as he tumbled slightly down the length of the chain. The monster put a clawed hand down hard on the chain that trailed down his neck that the archbishop’s grasp, roughly pulling the Father up a few feet. The demon’s brow quirked up in questioning. “Let… go of you?” The creature asked, his voice so incredibly deep it didn’t sound like a voice that could be possessed by a mortal being. It was rich, and the timbre of it was dark and swirled around Eli’s ears. She flushed immediately at the wicked tone of his threat, as well as the complexity of his unusual voice. The archbishop laughed nervously, then frowned. 

“Yes! You will let go of me this instant and if I won't punish you as severely, beast.” He said, panting.

“As you wish.” The creature said, his eyes shining at Eli in a mischievous yet dark way. He allowed the chain to slip from his claws, sending the man barreling down the building side while he clutched the metal for dear life. “Ah! Please just help me! I’ll provide options for you!” Vigilus said, sobbing hysterically.

“How about I give you two options?” The creature said, his tone smooth and deeply terrifying.

“Yes! Whatever you want!” Vigilus cried, his feet flailing pointlessly. The monster seemed to consider this, and thought for a moment before speaking.

“How about this? I let you fall and we see if you survive, or I let you up and you experience something worse than death. Your choice.” He said calmly yet maliciously. The Father cried out, completely ignoring the second part of the ‘choice.’

“Yes! Let me up. I’ll give you anything, no more chains!” He shrieked.

“You want up? You don’t want to plummet to your death?” The creature inquired wisely.

“No! Just let me up you monster!” Vigilus retorted.

The creature pulled the chain up, and dangled the gasping little man in front of him, and lowered Vigilus to meet his gaze.

“You have poked and prodded me for the last time.” The demon said lowly, his voice the hint of distant thunder before a great storm. The beast raised the dangling man above his face, and opened his jaws impossibly wide. 

Eli watched with awe as the archbishop became silent as he slid down the throat of the great creature before her. There was no blood, no gore, only the light, slick sound of the dean being readily devoured by his “pet”. Drool fell off the jaws of the creature as he lowered his head slightly, ropes of saliva pooling to the stone floor. Eli watched in amazement as the throat of the creature expanded easily to allow the priest to pass through wholly unharmed. The chain fell to the floor, no longer any hands to grasp it. The creature’s golden half-lidded eyes made contact with Eli’s while he swallowed, and the tiefling girl to his surprise, did not look away. The demon put a clawed hand to his throat and guided his meal down his chest, and groaned as the once languid flesh of his belly filled out with the weight of the live meal. Vigilus squirmed in the creature’s gut rather violently, punching and kicking to be let out after he had realized what was happening. Eli gawked at the creature, her brain trying to make sense of the scene she just witnessed. Dusk had descended upon the kingdom, and it made the beast look all the more camouflaged against the stone and moss of the buildings behind them. 

Eli looked from the beast’s undulating and heavy belly, to the thing’s eyes that were focused softly on her. He approached her calmly, his stomach jiggling as he walked, and stopped his face inches from Eli’s own. Eli broke the silence, her voice meek.

“You sure did a number on him.” She said shyly, not sure if she should be more disturbed at her nonchalant reaction to the situation, or more afraid of this man-eating beast’s proximity to her. He closed the gap, and touched his horns to hers, in a strange, affectionate gesture. She had never come in contact with a beast so much like herself, and the action set her mind into reality. 

[songofsoma]

A Chance Meeting

31 days of wayhaven | day 17: au

a scene from @rosejellyy​, @aelwen-art​, and i’s au blades of dawn :)

fandom: the wayhaven chronicles pairing: nora bishop x iris lee x cecilia beck word count: 1,750 rating: general

read it on ao3

Her eyes opened with a groan.

Everything hurt. There were muscles she didn’t know she had that ached. 

The sound of bowls clanking together and a soft humming pulled Nora back to reality. She tore her eyes away from the dark ceiling, the fog creeping out of the edges of her vision.

Her head fell to the side as she surveyed her surroundings. She had no idea what she was up against. The last thing she remembered was falling to the ground next to the unconscious knight she had been fighting.

The knight in question appeared in her vision.

Nora sat up quickly, her head spinning.

Hands grasped desperately at her belt, fingers wrapping around the hilt of her dagger, metal singing as it was drawn. But before she could plunge the blade into the sleeping figure, a silent force stopped her hand.

“Hasn’t anyone told you that it is incredibly rude to draw weapons in other people’s homes?” A voice called.

Panic was surging through her veins. She couldn’t move her limbs. 

It all clicked.

She was in the house of a witch—a powerful one at that.

Memories came flooding back: the wind whipping across her cheeks, the trees seeming to part around an approaching figure, the feeling that she could barely breathe. It had been magic.

Nora hated magic. It made her skin itch.

The woman was ethereal in the dim light of the candles, the lines of her body silhouetted beneath the sheer dress she wore. Gods, she could see every damned curve.

As she grew closer, bare feet padding against the wooden floors, Nora could begin to make out the features of her face.

Warm brown skin harbored an intoxicating smile, complimenting the amused twinkle in the depth of her dark gaze. She was quite short but was at an advantage to where Nora sat up on the makeshift cot. Bending down so her face hung inches away from hers, her fingers wrapped around her jaw, forcing her head to turn in her direction.

“Now if I free you, do you promise to be a good girl?” Her smile transformed into a smirk as she tugged the dagger free from Nora’s grip. “Otherwise, I think I shall make you a new piece of décor. You would make such a pretty statue I must say.”

Her heart was hammering in her chest. She struggled with a small nod.

The witch pulled away and Nora found herself a bit regretful at the loss of her touch. Thorns of magic released her from their grip. She was able to move again. 

Her gaze scoured the room once more. 

A variety of dried herbs and flowers hung from the ceiling, seemingly filling every inch, and leaving no hint of the wooden beams beneath. The room they were in was small. Most of the space was littered with books, spell jars and bottles, and more plants cutting through the earthy tones with their lively greens. A few more rooms were hidden by old wooden doors. Nora had to pause and wonder how they managed to stay up.

The witch had turned her back to Nora and had resumed her humming. Long tendrils of hair, the color of rich soil, spilled down her back, reaching just above her waist. Her fingers ached to touch it.

A sweet aroma was beginning to drift over from where she stood. Nora was not kept waiting much longer for a steaming cup of tea was offered to her.

She stared at it tentatively before her eyes flicked up to the witch’s face.

“It’s not poisoned,” she sighed. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have bothered dragging you both to my home. You’re lucky I let you keep your armor for it made you both significantly heavier.” A hint of irritation colored her tone.

Nora wordlessly took the cup, straining to tear her eyes away from the addictive gaze that threatened to swallow her whole.

But she found it impossible not to follow her.

The witch paused beside the knight, bending down to whisper something inaudible into her ear. A few moments later, drowsy dark eyes blinked open. 

“That’s it, sweetness,” she cooed, helping the girl sit up.

Nora stared at them wordlessly. For once in her life, she felt helpless and vulnerable. Iron and silver were useless against a forest witch. She had heard tales of such beings but never expected to meet with one face-to-face. Although, in the horror stories told to her by the elders, forest witches were something out of nightmares with monstrous claws, skin falling off the bone, and needles for teeth. The image used to keep her awake at night when she was a child.

“Something on your mind, my hunter?”

She bristled back at the pet name. It only widened the woman’s smirk.

“That is what you are, is it not?” She purred, pressing her knee onto the edge of the rickety cot.

Nora couldn’t find the words to answer her question as she leaned down, the ends of her hair tickling her face. She was struggled to continue to meet her eyes for the already sheer fabric of her dress dipped lower.

Warm fingers trailed over her cheekbone. “Truly a shame. I do enjoy watching you use that pretty little mouth of yours to try and wiggle your way out of problems.” The witch’s thumb brushed her bottom lip so lightly, Nora wasn’t even sure she had done it.

“Who are you?” Was the only thing her mind could pull together as the intoxicating woman pulled away.

She was gifted with a lovely smile. “I have many names. The Witch in the Woods, the Forest Guardian, sometimes hag by those who are feeling quite bold,” she laughed at the joke meant only for herself. “But you may call me by my given name, Cecilia.”

“Cecilia,” her lips wrapped around each syllable, savoring the way the name sounded on her tongue.

“What are you going to do to us?” A panicked voice sounded from beside her. She had almost forgotten the knight’s presence.

The humorous quirk of Cecilia’s lips was back. “Eager I see. I do take requests.”

Deep brown eyes grew bigger as she looked the woman up and down, perhaps she was sizing her up.

For the first time, Nora had the chance to study the appearance of her opponent.

Dread filled her once more upon realizing her beauty.

Delicate features sat upon porcelain skin, mirroring the sweetness of her voice. Eyes, so dark they were nearly black, held a mixture of anger and fear. Unlike Nora, a significant amount of her armor had been removed. Hints of a thick, white bandage could be seen peeking out from the loose collar of her undershirt.

An odd pang of guilt shot through her upon noticing it. She quickly turned her gaze away.

Why should she feel sorry? This woman was her enemy.

Still, Nora hadn’t realized she had truly wounded her.

“If you plan on killing me, I would rather you get it over with.” The knight complained, wincing as she shifted.

“Why is the first thing travelers’ minds go to is that I want to kill them?” Cecilia huffed, crossing the small room to busy herself with a bunch of flowers waiting to be dried. “Have none of you ever been taught manners? Especially you,” she turned to point at the knight who curled on herself at the attention. “Someone of noble birth should know to at least introduce themselves to their host.”

“How do you know I come from nobility?” The question was almost accusatory.

Rolling her eyes, her fingers began to bundle the flowers together. “Your sigil is on your breastplate, sweetness. House Lee, if I am not mistaken”

The knight said nothing. She only looked away, pretending to study a ginger cat sunning itself in one of the windows.

“For a forest witch, you’re quite familiar with human affairs,” Nora snapped.

She raised a shaped brow. “‘Tis a matter of my survival. I have not lived in these woods for centuries without knowing what goes on in the world around it—that would make me a fool.”

Centuries.

The thought made Nora’s stomach churn.

“Now, if neither of you has anything more to accuse me of, I have duties to attend to. I shall allow you two to rest.” Cecilia dropped her task back onto the counter, making her way to the door. “Oh, and please don’t kill each other, Lucius will be very unhappy with you both.” She gestured to the corner of the room to where a large, scrupulous wolf she hadn’t noticed before was watching them closely.

The knight squeaked in sudden fear, scrambling away, breath hitching from jostling her injuries.

Nora’s jaw hung open as she looked at the beast.

“Worry not, he only bites when he must!” And with a bell-like giggle, she disappeared out the door and into the forest beyond.

They were quiet for a long time, both of them staring warily at the wolf. The animal, however, seemed entirely unbothered by them as he laid his giant head back onto his paws, eyes drooping from boredom.

“What do we do?”

Nora’s gaze slid over to the rigid figure of the knight, watching as she wildly began to pat her waist.

“My sword, she took my sword!”

“Yes, she took my weapons as well,” Nora grumbled.

She chewed at her bottom lip and Nora was unable to keep her eyes off of the small movement. Luckily, the other woman did not seem to notice. “Should we run?”

“I doubt we’d get far.”

She rubbed a hand over her forehead in thought, skin smeared with dirt and blood from their earlier scuffle. “Then I suppose we have no choice than to wait for the witch’s return.” Her eyes shut as she sank back into the furs with a defeated look. “Surely my mother will notice my absence and come looking.”

Nora snorted. “Fantastic, just what we need so she can execute me immediately.” Venom coated each of her words carelessly.

“It’s better than your people raiding this hut!” She protested, eyes flying open once more. “Pillaging this entire forest while they are at it!”

She pursed her lips, looking away from her. “Then I guess we will wait, preferably in silence.”

“Fine.” The knight crossed her arms, pouting like a child.

Just like that, Nora decided she was not sorry she had wounded the girl after all.

[whyynotwrite]

It will make your heart race

Summary: You don't even know what is faster, your car or the beat of your heart every time you see him.

Warnings: light cursing and mention of cigarettes (don't know if that's a warning but just so you guys are aware of it!)

a/n: this is just like,, a wip? it'd be a street racing au with members from all the nct units + some skz members. i'm thinking of making it a series and this would be a sneak peek! please tell me what you think or if you want to see more of it, i'm open to all kinds of (constructive) opinions :)

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

“And that will be 12 dollars and 50 cents”

Scouring through my front pocket, I found the 50 cents and gave it to the cashier.

“Thanks. Good night!”, I said taking my soda, bag of chips and pack of cigarettes with me.

Halfway to the exit of the tiny convenience store, a hand grabbed my wrist and made me turn around.

“You gave me an extra two dollar bill”, looking at the bill hanging from the boy’s hands to his face, I could see just how tired he was. His disheveled hair, accompanied by a pair of dark bags under his eyes, told me everything I needed to know and more. Looking into his eyes, which reminded me of dark chocolate, I smiled.

“Keep it. I can only imagine how dreadful it must be to work on a Friday night, consider it a treat”

The nameless boy smiled faintly and bowed, murmuring a small thank you under his breath. I bowed slightly and went on my way, as soon as the automatic doors opened a breath of fresh air hit me and I exhaled deeply. There was nothing better than a chilly night’s breeze. The star filled sky looked at me, as if mocking me for my tremendous insignificance, and I smiled back at it. If there is a single thing that I learned in this life, it is that there’s nothing smaller or more insignificant than the human race, and I am fine with that. Sometimes we don’t need to understand why, we just accept it, for the sake of our sanity.

After a few minutes of walking, and finishing my bag of chips, a cat crossed my way. I almost missed it, for its darkness merged with the night. It meowed at me and rubbed my legs, a clear request for affection. I crouched and patted it until soft purrs came out of its mouth, soon enough it laid on its back. Being filled with contentment, I couldn’t help but squeal at it, I was never a cat person, but I just couldn’t resist their kind. Reaching my back pocket for my phone, so I could take a picture of the sweetest cat I’ve ever come across, I felt a cold shiver run down my spine and my heart immediately sink to my stomach. It wasn’t there. A million scenarios rushed through my mind while I scavenged my brain to remember where I last had it. It still was with me when I left Lia’s house, so it must be on the convenience store.

Throwing my head back and grunting out loud, I closed my eyes for a moment to recollect myself. How could I be so stupid. How did I forget my most precious possession on a fucking convenience store?

“I guess it be like that sometimes, huh”, I said to myself while patting the cat’s head one last time.

I got up and did a 180 degree turn to go, once again, to the convenience store. I cursed the whole path there, thinking over and over again how could I be this dumb and how I could already be where I first intended to. The cat followed me close, not letting our distance be bigger than two steps, and I was glad that at least someone wanted my company.

I got to the store and the smell of plastic and hand sanitizer almost made me choke. It was small, so I guess there’s little to none air passage here, making it unbearably hot and uncomfortable. Looking around, I recognized the cashier who attended me standing close to one of the hygiene goods’s shelves, going mindlessly through his phone, and marched towards him.

“Y/N! Hey, I was sure I recognized your voice earlier, anything you need?”, a smiling boy approached me, making me stop.

“Hey Hyuck, yeah, it’s going to sound so stupid but uhm, I think I forgot my phone here”, I scratched the back of my neck out of embarrassment and pointed to the cashier, “I was going to talk to him since he was the one who attended me, maybe he saw it and knows where it is, I don’t know”

Hyuck let out a light laugh and shook his head, “You’re such an airhead. Ren, come here”

The boy snapped his head up and looked at us. When his eyes focused on my figure, they went wide, making my heartbeat speed just a little bit.

“Oh, you forgot your phone! Sorry for not realizing sooner, I only saw it after you left”, he said walking closer to us.

A little smile made its way into his face as he handed me the phone that was carefully kept on the pocket of his apron.

“Oh my god you saved my life, thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d do if I had really lost it”, I exasperated as I took it in my hands, beaming at it.

Glancing at the notifications I saw that nothing important had happened and sighed out of relief, I’d be on time for my meeting if I rushed a little.

“It‘s nothing, the least I could do after your treat”

I let a chuckle come out of my mouth and smiled at the boy. Taking a closer look at him I could see just how beautiful he was, the fainted cheap lights of the store didn’t help at all, making everything seem smudged, but even so, he was stunning. His tanned skin matched perfectly with his clothes, making me think he chose them especially because of this. His eyes were so black that it was a hard task to find his pupil, even harder to not get lost in them. I could stay like this for years to come, immersed in the deepness of his soul's windows, wondering how many mysteries and untold stories they held. That is, if Donghyuck didn’t get me out of it.

“Didn’t know you had a cat”, he crouched down to pat the cat’s head, which was rubbing against his legs and a fond sigh came out of my lips.

“I don’t. It just followed me here”, I paused to look at it, making a mental note about how Hyuck looked even cuter when he was around animals, when the memory that I had somewhere else to be hit me.

“Y’know I’d love to stay and talk with you guys but I really need to go”, I said as my hands messed Hyuck’s hair up and laughed when he sent me a death glare. “See you monday Hyuckie, and it was nice meeting you-”

“Renjun”, he said while stretching his hand for me.

I shook it and smiled at him, “Y/N”.

[unlockthelore]

You’re Gonna Carry That

While doing some shopping with the money that they (read: Yukine) earned, Yukine finds himself remembering something unpleasant and Yato is there to help. From the fic Call Out My Name on Ao3 and written for the @noragamibigbang. For more updates, follow the call out my name tag on this blog. 

“What do you think of this one, Yukine?”

Yukine tumbled out of foggy thoughts as a damp touch clamped onto his shoulders, jostling him back and forth eagerly, sending a shiver down his spine as he gripped the cloth bags tightly.  He’s careful not to let out a startled yelp when he was yanked backward, an arm wrapped around his front, and a cutesy caricature on the end of a silver keyring is dangled before his eyes.

It takes a second for him to recognize what the character was and the one holding it. His eyes narrowed, lips pulled to one side at the triumphant cackle from the so-called god, nearly drowning out the cacophony of sounds from the mall area.

Mothers with totes on their shoulders holding the hands of children carrying toys or talking loudly in the tacky summer heat, students clamoring down the streets in pairs or groups eager to start vacation while enjoying the last few days of their school year, salarymen with loose ties and worn eyes barely the picture of company as they dragged their feet to and fro.

Yukine’s eyes shutter as Yato’s cackling continues and he’s almost grateful to be somewhat invisible. “What’s your problem with capybaras, Yato?” He asked, blowing out a sigh as he tucked his elbow into the jersey-wearing deity’s side, earning a pained grunt and freedom from the sweaty hands on his shoulders. Looking back at him with a wrinkled nose as Yato doubled over, clutching the keyring and rubbing his side. “It’s creepy.”

Yato’s mouth fell open, disbelief mingling with hurt, his blue eyes watery as he clung to Yukine’s wrist much to the shinki’s dismay. “How could you call me — no — this creepy?!” Puncuating this by flinging the capybara key ring in his face, presenting it as if it was the heaven’s gift to man.

“Look at how you’re holding it!” Yukine said, snatching his wrist from Yato’s sweaty hold and grimacing at the thin sheen along his skin. He glanced down at the bag and held the cloth bracers in both hands, peeking inside. “What else did you buy anyway?”

In a blur, Yato snatched the bag from his hand, and pressed the keyring to Yukine’s palm. Cute as it was, he didn’t have as much of a love for capybaras as Yato did. An obsession now that he thought about it.

And for the umpteenth time that evening, Yukine couldn’t help but wish that Hiyori was there.

All of his attempts to snatch the bag from Yato were met with failure, leading the two of them into a dance down the streets of the market area. Narrow walkways, weaving between throngs of people who could barely see them for a second, and then not at all. Weight settled in Yukine’s stomach every time he caught glimpse of himself in the lit windows or stopped by intersections while Yato ran to the other side. Other people reaching out to touch the street signs, talking amongst themselves as if he weren’t privy to their conversation. Buildings as close together as the ever-moving flow of bodies but almost out of his reach. It was enough to make anyone depressed, wasn’t it?

“Yukine!”

Crossing over sidewalks with grass growing between their cracks, Yukine narrowed his eyes past the streaking sunlight at Yato waving to him like a fool in a small plaza. While the scene was harmless and a little nice considering his thoughts, he didn’t like the way the wayward deity pointed toward one of the shops. Shielding his eyes, Yukine glared. What was that?

Spying the familiar brown caricature in the window next to a lucky cat, Yukine paled and rushed forward, his sandals slapping against the sun warmed concrete as he dove for Yato’s jersey. “We’re supposed to be saving money, idiot!” He shouted, his arms tight around Yato’s middle despite the heat radiating from his jersey.

“Since when did you become so frugal?” Yato shouted back, struggling against him, albeit with less than his usual strength. “After all, this is for a great cause, Yukine.”

“What’s that…?” Yukine demanded, attempting to turn Yato around to face him but the deity had suddenly stood still and seemed rigid to the touch. Avoiding being turned or even looked at by whipping his head one way then the other, craning his neck or squeezing his eyes shut. “Oi! I asked you what was that!”

Sweat beaded along Yato’s brow but whether it was from his efforts or the heat, Yukine wasn’t sure. “Ah, hold on. Hold on! I’m thinking, I’m thinking…” Yato murmured, letting his voice trail off but Yukine wasn’t buying it that time.

It was more of a scuffle with the two of them pushing forward and backward, nearly falling over with their movement. A few passerby glanced their way and Yukine felt his heart jilting at the smiles and laughter, or the embarrassed looks and ones of concern, seeing them fade away so quickly when their eyes turned.

How frustrating, Yukine thought for a split second before he heard a shrill voice yell.

“Dad!”

His heart leapt into his throat as he looked over his shoulder. A young boy, brown hair and deep brown eyes narrowed up at the man who looked down at him tiredly, the both of them standing beneath an awning while the boy pointed up at the shop’s window. Yukine couldn’t see what was there from the glare but it must have been important. The boy’s grip on his father’s hand seemed almost tight enough to be painful as he yanked against him, attempting to head for the shop door.

“I want that one!”

“No,” his father muttered, ragged and exhausted, seeming used to this conversation but utterly tired of it. “You already have enough.”

“I want it—!” The boy crowed and Yukine found it hard to breathe for a second, his hold on Yato loosening. “I want it, I want it…! I wa—”

“Tooru!”

The shout, loud and cracking like the wind, snapped something in Yukine’s mind and he jumped back instinctively. Holding up his arms defensively, covering his face and neck until he could see a sliver through them. The boy’s face crumpled immediately and a few reedy inhales foretold of tears. Yukine swallowed thickly, and the prickling sensation of sunlight against his skin wasn’t nearly as searing as the swelling behind his eyes.

What was going on? Why was he wanting to cry?

“That’s enough!” The boy’s father grimaced and yanked his arm, pulling him down the street as onlookers turned to look at them, his eyes flicking one way to the other before he grumbled. Sharp and unrelenting. “Let’s go home.”

A part of Yukine trembled with dread. He wanted to follow them and yank the boy from the man’s grasp. Let’s go home. Those words simmered an indiscernible emotion deep in his stomach and he almost wanted to will him not to go. Lowering his arms and taking a half-step forward, a soft call rippled in the back of his mind.

“Yukine?” A hand firmly grasped his shoulder and Yukine jumped, throwing his arm back to slap it away. Blue eyes meeting his own, not brown — horrid, imposing, unforgiving brown — Yato’s brows raised then pulled together. Don’t be angry, Yukine chanted over in his head, but he wasn’t sure why. This was Yato. Yato never was angry. Thoughtless, unpredictable, noisy — but not angry.

“Oi, Yukine,” Yato called, snapping Yukine out of his cycling thoughts. He shuddered and lifted his gaze only to find a hand coming down to pat the top of his head. “It’s noisy here, right?”

Noisy?

This was one of the quieter places in the market area. It wasn’t nearly as noisy as the ones further in but Yukine couldn’t summon an argument, only nodding numbly. The key ring pressed to the palm of his hand was almost painful with how much he squeezed it. Yato didn’t seem to notice and if he did, he said nothing, only lifting his head and directing them down the street.

Their walk was taken in relative silence. Yukine staring numbly down at his feet as they passed by shop after shop.

“Neh, is there anything you wanted?” Yukine lifted his gaze, blinking confusedly at Yato’s back. “While we’re out, you can have one thing of your choice. Free of temptation.”

The joke, while one they could make now, made him wince and the act must not have been lost on Yato who frowned a little then rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s alright to be selfish every once in awhile, you know.”

Yukine scowled and turned his head away, gazing down at the procession of ants marching across the sidewalk then to the few people milling about on the backroad they took. It had less shops, he noticed, and more shade from the sun with the towering buildings but somehow he felt more seen than before. Yato said nothing about the pause, instead shuffling from one foot to the other, setting himself down on the medium which must have been boiling hot with the heat.

After awhile of standing there, Yukine scuffed his sandal’s heel against the pavement “How he yelled at him,” he muttered. An answering hum buzzed up from Yato’s throat but it was muffled again like he was hearing it from under water. “All he wanted was the stupid whatever…”

What was the big deal? It was a thought that crossed his mind early on in his relationship with Yato too.

“So why did he…”

Yato sighed, rocking backward with his face upturned toward the sky. Not annoyed but almost resigned, like he’d been expecting it.  “Eventually, he’ll forget that he yelled at him at all,” he said, an undertone of ruefulness that gave Yukine pause. “To him, it’ll be a faded memory. To his son, it may shape how he handles things in the future..”

A car rumbles down the street interrupting Yato along with the quiet sounds of the city around them. Times like this it was easy to remember Yato wasn’t some punk kid around his age. Though, Yukine couldn’t help but wonder what Yato saw to let him know things like this.

“The axe forgets but the tree remembers.” Yato mumbles, his mouth bending into a smile that was equally parts comforting as its as concerning. “Wounds made on the heart are difficult to forget, children remember what their parents say long after their parents have forgotten. With that being said…”

He rifled about in the bag, pulling out a thin red pouch securely with a golden string. It was a bit heavy when set in Yukine’s palm and he tucked the keyring into his pocket, opening it up. Inside, a number of rolled bills and coins were tucked away and Yukine blinked slowly.

“My money?” Yukine asked numbly, looking up at Yato.

Yato’s expression softened as he scooped up the bag in his arm, holding his chin higher. “You didn’t think I spent the money you earned, did you?” He stuck his tongue out, smirking broadly.  “I’m not helpless, you know.”

Yukine was almost hard pressed to disagree but Yato quieted him, pressing the heel of his hand to the top of his head, his fingers albeit sweaty incredibly light as they worked through his hair.

“Yukine.”

A shudder ran through him at the tender sound of his name. Affectionate and soft, beguiling in a way that didn’t make him want to run. He held the pouch tighter until he could feel the impression of it against his palms.

“You’re working hard…” Yato continued, rubbing his fingers through Yukine’s hair, his palm cradling the back of his head with a gentle pat. Even though Yukine couldn’t raise his eyes to meet Yato’s gaze, he could hear the smile in his voice. “For the both of us, and I’m grateful.”

With another pat, Yato pulled away and the spell was broken. Yukine brushing his fingers against his disheveled hair, smiling faintly as he cradled the pouch to his chest, grumbling under his breath. “What’s all that about…”  He opened the bag as they walked, squinting at its contents. “Wait up, Yato!”

Yato flinched ahead of him and Yukine could see his muscles tensing.

“Is this all my money?”

A nervous glance over his shoulder is all the warning Yukine had before Yato sprinted off.

“Oi, Oi!”

Clutching the bag in his palm and racing after him in the sweltering heat, Yukine smiled.

“Yato!”

[emberbent]

QUESTIONS FOR YOUR OCs

[Originally posted by @cassandrapentayaaaaas, whose name apparently is also Elle, ayyyy. I’ll be filling this out for my Fire Avatar OC Shinza, and maybe also for some other characters later.]

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

Previous to her airbending training, Shinza would have had a hard time being still and doing nothing for longer than a few minutes. Not out of a need to burn off energy, but out of a fear of being alone with her thoughts for too long. Now, she can meditate and be still for over an hour, or much longer if she takes short breaks. She sat for eleven hours for her tattoo, which was the longest she’s gone doing nothing.

How easy is it for your character to laugh?

She doesn’t appear to be easily amused - she’s more of a smirker than a laugher if she finds something funny. Unless she’s among people who are close to her, or she’s drinking pear sake.

How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

Shinza’s one of the lucky ones who falls asleep as soon as she climbs into bed. She doesn’t have to do anything special to fall asleep.

How easy is it to earn their trust?

Hard to say. Maybe moderate? She doesn’t like to reveal much about herself unless she really trusts someone not to abuse that information, which isn’t all that often. She’s self-reliant enough that she doesn’t need others to help her most of the time, which can be seen as untrusting. But really, all it takes is showing compassion and self-awareness to get her to let her guard down.

How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

Fairly easy, since her default mode is not overly trusting.

Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?

She's always had trouble determining which rules are or should be flexible vs enforced. Now that she’s in a position where she’s more or less exempt from following rules as necessary to keep balance, she’s realizing it’s even more complex than she ever thought. She contemplates often whether she has a duty not to follow the rules she holds others to, or to lead by example and hold herself to those same standards.

What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

The smell of petrichor mingling with the oily smog of Republic City brings her back to when she was small, and she would walk with her mother, a doctor, every day to the clinic. Her mother would hold her hand, and they’d traverse in silence, except to point out the stray capuchin cats sheltering under the Satos on the street, or Shinza would ask for a treat from the bakery.

What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child?

Twirling, dancing, spinning around, singing. It wasn’t that her parents discouraged her from these normal activities, but she often didn’t have the presence of mind to refrain in the wrong situations.

Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

Not often; usually to emphasize her point. She distinctly remembers being nine years old and watching someone walk into traffic. A bystander earthbent them out of the way just before a Sato could run them over. She said her first curse word aloud as she rode in a cab with her father. He wasn’t mad.

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

She never got into habitual lying. Too much to remember, too much guilt.

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

Lucky for her, she has thousands of past Avatars to talk to. 

How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

She has long arms - this isn’t normally an issue.

What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

Black and shades of red; absolutely.

What animal do they fear most?

Shinza’s not afraid of any animals in a phobia sense, but she does think canyon crawlers are fairly ugly, and she’d hate to meet one.

How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

She thinks before she speaks, but she doesn’t rehearse what she wants to say before the conversation happens. She speaks deliberately and rarely says something she doesn’t mean. 

What makes their stomach turn?

The normal stuff - gore and viscera, bad smells, being anxious or nervous.

Are they easily embarrassed?

Very much so, although she tries not to let it show.

What embarrasses them?

The biggest thing is having her flaws or screw-ups used as an example to a group. She also suffers pretty bad secondhand embarrassment watching others do embarrassing things.

What is their favorite number?

She doesn’t have one.

If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

She’d explain familial love as distinctly separate from platonic or romantic love in that for her, it comes from a place of duty as well as physical proximity and similarity. Her personality closely matches both of her parents’, so they naturally got along well most of the time, which made them feel close, which she might define as familial love.

She feels there’s very little difference between platonic and romantic love, and that one can easily morph into the other and back. These are based on things outside of physical proximity or biology, like shared interests, a common goal, and sexual attraction. Sometimes it’s as simple as, “I don’t know. I just love them.”

Why do they get up in the morning?

Duty. Responsibility. The sunlight coming in through her window has woken her and she can’t go back to sleep. 

How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)?

It manifests as deep sadness and a feeling that there’s a flaw she should fix in herself that will make the situation better. Then it festers into shame for having those emotions or caring at all, and she becomes aloof.

How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)?

She might pine for whatever this other fortunate person has that she doesn’t for a second, but then she shrugs it off.

Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom?

She’s happy to talk about sex in an academic sense with acquaintances, but she’s only comfortable discussing her own experiences with her best friend Nero. Even then, she squirms a little.

What are their thoughts on marriage?

She likes the idea of loving someone so much that you’d enter a legally binding, life-long contract with them, and she certainly sees the financial and social advantages. As to whether she wants to get married herself, she’d be perfectly fine either way.

What is their preferred mode of transportation?

Xia, her dragon companion. Especially now that she’s not afraid of heights or the open air anymore. Plus, they just get each other - no words needed. They had a strong bond from the beginning, but ever since Xia saved Shinza’s ass in Gaoling, Shinza feels closer to her than ever.

What causes them to feel dread?

Knowing that the world is watching every move she makes, and that everything she does (or doesn’t do) will go down in history. Knowing that if she can’t protect herself, she could be the last Avatar.

Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?

Definitely not. Being lied to is something she has a hard time forgiving, and she’d much rather deal with the ripples of an unpleasant truth than feeling she can’t trust the person keeping the truth from her, and finding out anyway.

Do they usually live up to their own ideals?

No, but Shinza holds herself to impossibly high standards.

Who do they most regret meeting?

Yanyu, the ex-Dai Li agent who her parents hired to block her bending and repress her memories when she was little. Shinza thought Yanyu wanted to meet with her in Gaoling to apologize for her role in letting the world go for so long without its Avatar, but it turned out to be a trap; Yanyu attempted to subdue her and turn her over to The Organization.

Who are they the most glad to have met?

Amrit. She came to him on the Island of the Sun Warriors thinking she was a nonbender, that she couldn’t possibly be the Avatar, and he helped her through that confusion. He unblocked her chi and helped her flame. Maybe he was a little too hard on her during training, but he taught her the value of working til you puke. He’s always had her back, even from the first day.

Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke?

No. Shinza rarely leads conversations.

Could they be considered lazy?

Not by any stretch. She’s deliberate, diligent, and hard set on doing things right and thoroughly.

How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt?

Very, which is detrimental to her role as the Avatar. She doesn’t know yet that she will live with the burden of guilt for her decisions and actions her whole life, or how to be okay with that.

How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive?

She’s a supporter and an attentive listener. She does her best to follow up with questions or mention small details later. Unless it’s something like a friend being excited about getting back together with her toxic ex - then she’d be clear about where she stands on the matter. 

Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap?

She’s never sought out romance, but she has experienced and enjoyed it. Romantic love isn’t something she requires to feel happy or validated.

Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)?

She doesn’t have a system - she just remembers things like patterns, numbers, and names. It’s a gift that, oddly enough, she was bullied for in school. Sometimes she forgets that others don’t have such an incredible memory and gets frustrated with them, but she’s working on it.

What memory do they revisit the most often?

Leaving Nero alone at the bar, mouth agape, as two Fire Nation officials all but dragged her out the door with them. She never got to explain to Nero what happened after she figured it all out, and she hasn’t seen her since that day almost two years ago. The guilt eats at her.

How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people?

Fairly difficult. She can’t ignore her own flaws, so she’s unable to extend that to others. She’s working on it though, and she’s got Amrit to practice on. No shade tho.

How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

Extremely. She was an only child, so her parents were hawks circling her, watching her every move. They didn’t pick on her on purpose, but it was pretty clear to Shinza that they were disappointed she didn’t go to medical school or join the military. On top of that, she grew up believing she was a nonbender, which culminated in a general, oppressive feeling that she was deeply flawed.

How do they feel about children?

She was an only child and didn’t grow up around her extended family, so she doesn’t have a lot of experience being around kids. Before, she could think of worse things than raising a child of her own. But now, she can’t fathom trying to balance her duties while raising a child.

How badly do they want to reach their end goal?

The shame of leaving the physical and spirit worlds out of balance and being remembered as an ineffective Avatar is unfathomable to her. She’d say she wants it more than anything.

If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so?

She’d say she’s sexual, sometimes, and leave it at that.

QUESTIONS FOR CREATORS

A) Why are you excited about this character? 

In every OC, I think there’s at least a little bit of their creator; I didn’t intend for Shinza to end up so similar to myself, but she is. And as I develop my own sense of self, I see that reflected in Shinza when I write her, and that’s pretty exciting.

B) What inspired you to create them? 

I’d been wanting to write an Avatar OC story for a long time, and nothing felt right or fun or exciting until I considered using Shinza, a character I’d had stewing in my head for a while. Once I pictured her in the Avatar world, things started falling into place pretty quickly.

C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story? 

Absolutely. I planned the story from start to finish so I knew where I was headed, but along the way, Emberbent!Shinza started to take shape in unexpected ways and deviate from the original plan. As her personality in this story evolves, I have to figure out her reactions to things, and the ripples from those reactions, from a new perspective. I don’t have a clear view of her transformation arc, because it’s happening in real time along with mine. The (already flimsy) ending I’d intended has been blown to smithereens, and I have no idea how it’ll go - I’m essentially 50% pantsing at this point - but I feel less frustrated knowing I have more room to see what happens.

D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look? 

She’s had a number of different physical appearances. At one point, she was a monk child in a DND campaign I played in. In the preliminary planning stages of Emberbent, she looked like Nero, her best friend, and was an Earth Avatar.

E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

I like to think we’d get along, but we’d both have to be okay with natural silence. Neither of us are inclined to lead conversations.

F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

All of the above. Pride because of how hard she’s worked to get where she is; excitement because of all the horrific and wonderful things she’ll go through to turn her into who she’ll ultimately become; and frustrated because she feels flat to me, so I’m assuming she feels flat to others too.

G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most? 

She can’t see past her own nose yet in terms of her role. It will take some time for her to realize she has to relinquish all of her own desires and happiness to her duty as the Avatar. For now, she’s stuck in selfish-mode, doing her best to help those close to her while trying to maintain her grip on her old ego.

H) What trait do you admire most? 

While she’s still working on seeing things from a broad perspective, she has an innate ability to deeply understand people, their feelings, and the situations they find themselves in. She’ll drop everything in order to help.

I) Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe? 

Yeah. I’m not into crossover fics... yet.

J) Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character?

Mmm, I don’t know about manipulating canon, but I definitely extended it and filled in some parts as needed. Since she’s not the Avatar that came directly after Korra, I had to create the character that came between them. And since Shinza’s timeline is well after Korra’s, I had to envision what Republic City and the world would look like 70 years or so in the future.

Edit: Actually, just kidding. I forgot I totally manipulated canon when I figured out a way for Shinza to reconnect with the Avatars before Aang.