#discovering everything that kept you warm and safe during the most dangerous times of your life

[princesssarcastia]

finally cracking the code and figuring out how to take a stab at "write what you know" (from an emotional angle) is pretty fantastic for generating story ideas, or at least story beats.

[bokettochild]

Febuwhump suggestion for “hostage situation” if I may

Ravio being held captive by some villain? (Preferably resurrected Yuga for angst?)

As someone who STILL hasn't played ALBW (I tried!) I wasn't able to swing Yuga. i'm not sure how I would do that, but... I may have figured out something else? Don't worry, Ravio still suffers >:)

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 7,066

Summary: Mister Hero never goes unarmed, and Ravio discovers just WHY when an old enemy from his friend's life reappears and mistakes him for Link. Perhaps, when Mister Hero gets back, he's going to ask for fighting lessons. That is, if he survives the gladiator's arena.

(Note: LoZ Manga references. You don't need to know much, just that Legend is, in the manga, a gladiatorial champion.)

-

There’s one rule Mister Hero has always kept: do not stray from the house without a weapon. 

 He’s laughed at the other for it a few times, during the time when they shared the home, and sickness, injury, or exhaustion had stopped the hero from being out and about fulfilling their work. He’d felt guilty, at times, for letting the other lad do everything, so on the days when Mister Hero did decide to allow himself to relax a bit, he’d tried to make them enjoyable. He took on most of the work of cooking and keeping the house anyways, and doing the tiniest bit extra to accommodate the hero was hardly any burden, what with how much work the other was doing for him. Even on rest days though, Mister Hero has never been one to sit idle. Provided he didn’t end up sleeping the day away out of exhaustion, he would typically slip out to tend the garden and orchard to ensure the coming harvest wasn’t lost, and trips to the market also came about to restock the house’s spacious pantry. 

The market in Kakariko is so much nicer than those in Thieves Town, which were always louder, dangerous, and usually somewhat violent. The people of Hyrule, in comparison to Lorule, are a peaceful sort, so seeing Mister Hero arm himself before leaving the house had been odd. 

“You’re not returning to the road already, are you?” He’d asked. 

Honest eyes had turned to him, stare heavy, and trying so hard to find something to focus on, what with Ravio’s own face still having been covered at the time. “No.” 

“Then why are you arming yourself?” He’d asked. He'd already explored the area around the house, including the village, and while the roads between could be a bit rough, it was never anything that couldn’t be avoided. A sword seemed to be overkill. 

“Why aren’t you?” Mister Hero had stared at him. He'd been to Lorule already at that point, so perhaps it made sense that he’d presume Ravio would feel a similar need to prepare against a foe, but the merchant was doing no such thing.  

Sure, he has a knife, but he doesn’t really use it unless he really needs to, and even then, it’s mostly just for a quick stab or slice so he can have time to get away. He's never been much of a fighter, and no one had wanted to teach him either, saying he was too small to handle a weapon, or fight at all. Now that he’s met Mister Hero, he knows that’s all poppycock, since the hylian wields many a weapon with skill superior to the average knight, despite being even smaller than Ravio is- if only by an inch or so. Still, he doesn’t really want to learn to fight, and finding favor at the castle had meant he hasn’t needed to since his early childhood, working for Hilda usually keeps him well away from anyone and anyone who wanted to harm him. There were some more aggressive persons in the castle, but the threat of the queen’s wrath was too great for them to risk anything. 

“Kakraiko is safe,” he’d answered, voice warm to convey a smile the hero couldn’t see. “Why would I need to?” 

“Danger can appear anywhere,” and something had snapped behind violet eyes, “you shouldn’t relax your guard just because it looks safe.” 

The words have stuck with him since then. Granted, he’s not faced much since, staying mainly at the house while Mister hero had tended to their mission, but after it was over, and they’d parted ways, he’d not strayed much from the castle. He’s kept to his own and in spaces shielded by magic, so weapons weren’t something he needed. Granted, when he’d taken the portal that opened to him in the castle, tumbling out into a new era and meeting a new hero, he had been called upon to fight at times, and he had had a weapon then, but he’s really not the aggressive sort. Fighting isn’t in his nature any more than sitting still is in Mister Hero’s. 

Now returned safely to his own era by a very apologetic Lana, he’s taken up his old habits from living in Hyrule. He’s got his knife, of course, because after that one time, Mister Hero had taken to asking him, at random times, if he was armed. The hero is obsessive about it, but then again, he is about many things.  

Once it was all over and Yuga had been defeated, but before they’d gone their separate ways, he’d seen Mister Hero actually fully disarm for the first time. They’d been exhausted by the day; its emotions, the battle, and just everything. There was an intent to close the connection between their worlds, but Hilda had promised them some time. He’s thankful for it too, although that day had been simultaneously one of the worst and best in his life. 

They’d gone back to the house, both awkward with each other and not speaking at all until abruptly Mister Hero had announced that he would be having a bath. His joints ached from the fight and he needed to relax, so he’d drawn a bath into the wooden tub he kept in the house, set before the fire to keep it warm, and while Ravio had had every intention of leaving him to his privacy (goodness knows he had no room to disrespect such a thing after all his fuss about his hood!) he’d sort of gotten distracted when he’d seen the hero disarming. First the sword and belt had come off. They weren’t put away though but set on the floor close enough to reach from in the tub, which really had been a very clear indicator of how wary and distrustful a person his hero is. After those then had been the knives; he thinks there must have been at least a dozen hidden beneath the clothes of the hero, and even after those were all set aside, there came the medallions, the rings, the earrings with protective magic, the magic infused tunics, the boots. He'd left when clothes started coming off, because Mister Hero had asked, rather flustered as he’s fiddled with the buttons of his shift, if Ravio was intending to ogle him the whole time and he’d hurried out as answer.  

Really though, it came as a bit of a shock to realize just how much in the ways of weapons and defensive tools the hero carried. 

He doesn’t see a need for that though. He keeps the knife, but nothing else. He’s not a fighter, he’ll never be a fighter, and he doesn’t have any wish to either. 

Sometimes, looking at the home buried under a decade’s worth of adventures, he wonders if Mister Hero ever wanted it either, but it’s sort of a null point now, considering there’s really no changing things. Even if he wanted too, he doesn’t think Mister Hero is capable of spending any part of his life without at least one weapon in easy reach at all times. 

It’s fine though. As the hero, it makes sense that his housemate is armed, and him being able to defend himself is important in his line of work. Ravio, however, has no such needs. Any enemies he’s made, he’s left them behind in Lorule, and there’s no way for them to slip across to get at him now. The house is well guarded at all times, between the magic twined through the trees and the bees that sting anything and anyone that they deem a threat. Out in town, he’s got the good sense to be aware of his surroundings, but fighting, even with people who want to harm him, isn’t really necessary. He’s fast enough to evade blows and slip out of their clutches in the case of anyone actually wanting to hurt him, and again, that’s very rare, especially once they get the idea that he’s not worth the trouble. 

Since returning to Hyrule, there’s really been no trouble whatsoever, so maybe he is slightly to blame for having let his guard drop. Yes, if he’d only been a bit more aware- but he hadn’t and now Mister Hero is definitely never going to relax about his safety ever again. 

He’s on the road, headed to the market to fill the pantry again. It’s not that it ever really empties, but Mister Hero always likes to keep it full to brimming on the off chance of not being able to restock for one reason or another. Illness, war and sometimes his own safety are some of the reasons he’s cited for not being able to get out, or shop for food. He thinks there’s maybe more to it, maybe something to do with the hero’s stunted growth, but he doesn’t ask. If anything, he’s just as happy to make sure they never run out of food, as Lorule hadn’t exactly been the most prosperous place to live either. 

The roads aren’t any worse than normal, and now that Yuga and Ganon aren’t an issue anymore, teh soldiers are no longer nearly as aggressive. They've tamed some, and between the efforts of the hero and Hyrule’s princess, they’d begun training new knights who’ve never known the touch of dark magic that so altered the minds of their former defenders. Link is still chased down, of course, but Ravio himself is at no risk, and he’s able to simply slip past the patrolling soldiers with a brief wave on his way down the path. The younger of the two men nods in answer, but neither stop in their route back to the castle. Just the same, he doesn’t stop on his way to Kakariko.  

Celeste, the elder’s wife, had let slip that traders from out Holodrum way were traveling through the kingdom and would likely stop at the village before heading on the Castletown, and after hearing Mister Hero rave about the fruits found in the other kingdom, he’s determined to see if he can’t find some to serve when next his doppelganger and companions arrive back in this time. It’ll be a delightful treat! He hasn’t really seen the hero smile in a bit, and he’s sure he can maybe get him to crack even the smallest of smiles if he makes something especially good. 

Then again, he could just make cocoa, but honestly, he needs to expand his arsenal! 

His attention is sort of on trying to estimate the cost of imported fruits and remembering if they have any recopies for them anywhere (he could just ask, but it would ruin the surprise) so he doesn’t exactly notice until it’s too late that he’s been being followed. Really, he wouldn’t have noticed at all if a hand didn’t suddenly catch ahold of him, grip far too strong to be ignored and making him stumble in his steps. 

“Excuse me-” some offended comment is about to drop from his lips, but he doesn’t exactly get a chance to finish it. Something soft, but with a strong smell is suddenly thrust over his nose and mouth and the merchant finds that any and all words drift out of his mind, thoughts fading all together as darkness steals there place. 

Whomever it was that had grabbed him, he sags into their hold as his final action before his consciousness is lost. 

- 

Coming to, he sort of expects... well, he’s not sure. His head is throbbing and fuzzy, but there’s the vague inclination that usually, when the advisor to a queen is captured, they’ll wake up to...well, not this! 

He's seen the torture chambers in Lorule Castle, and through no fault of his own, is aware of the Sheikah equivalent in Hyrule. He knows that when it comes to people in his position, no time is wasted on the off chance that a noble sends out a rescue of some sort, so if it’s information that’s wanted, well, he’d be waking up in a good deal more pain than he actually does. Blinking his eyes open though, he’s not in a dungeon. Sure, there’s stone walls and a (probably) locked door, but the sunlight that bleeds in through a small, glass paned window, indicates that whatever place this is, it’s not exactly a holding cell either. In one brief glance around, he can see at least two viable escape paths, and besides, it’s clear that someone is very much living in this space. 

Yes, someone is living here, and based off of the figure currently sitting before him, a bottle dangling from their fingers, it’s a very, very big someone. Lolia below, the man is at least as tall as twice of him and one leg alone is as wide as the merchant’s whole body! What sort of a monster of a man is this? And furthermore, why is he looking down at him with such hatred and ire? 

“Just as you asked,” a clipped, almost posh sounding voice, sounds from beside him, and swiveling his eyes over, he sees a decent looking fellow, either Hylian or human- he can’t tell past the hood, smiling up at the giant in the room. “One hero.” 

Oh fiddlesticks, are these people looking for Mister Hero? 

“You sure it’s him?” The giant’s voice is booming, echoing slightly off the walls even as it slurs slightly. 

The young man in the hood nods, smile almost attractive if it wasn't so cold. “Certainly. You wanted a Link Lon? Well, I tracked down his residence and watched for days. This one-” a hand catches his shoulder and shakes, and he moves to protest the rough treatment only to find there’s a gag stopping him doing so, “- was the only one to show his face. Lucky for us though, he matches your description: black hair, short and built like a child’s doll.” It would almost be a compliment, back in Lorule, to be told he looked like a doll, and he knows in Hyrule, there are many people who teasingly call Mister Hero that, but here it almost sounds derogatory, like that’s something to his discredit. 

The giant hums lowly, eyes trailing over him, glazed over and not quite all there. Still, he hopes that the man will realize that whomever they’re looking for, it’s not him. Mister Hero’s name might be the one they’re using, but last he knew, the hero has blonde hair, not black. That is the only real distinction between them, other than their eyes, but he desperately doesn’t want to believe that his friend is the target of these clearly ill-intentioned men either. Good grief, what do they even want him for? 

“Alright,” the giant growls, turning and retrieving a small sack from the table beside him, one which he hands to the hooded fellow, who takes it with an eager smile. “There, for your troubles.” 

It's clear Hood has experience, because he doesn’t take the bag and go, but opens it to briefly check its contents, charming smile dropping a moment later for a sharp look. “This isn’t what we agreed upon.” 

“You took too long.” 

Honestly, as a businessman himself, he’s slightly affronted on his capturer’s behalf! The man has no issue expressing the same anger though. “We agreed on two hundred rupees! This is barely a hundred!” At no response, the man presses on. “I hunted down the Hero of Hyrule for you and dragged him all the way out to Lynna City on your behalf. Of course it took time! You think he’s easy to tempt out of his little magical den?” 

The chair that the giant sits on screeches as the man stands, and he’s really very, very huge when standing, head brushing the ceiling overhead as the chair crashes back against the floor. “Are we going to have a problem?”  

Perhaps smarter than the average crook, Hood huffs, biting back whatever it is that he wants to say, and instead gathering up his earnings before leaving the room. That leaves Ravio alone with the giant. Oh, dear darkness, please let this all be a bad dream! He knows it’s not though. His dreams would have Yuga in the place of the giant, or maybe Ganon. He’s also pretty sure Mister Hero had said once that every face you see in your dreams is a person you’ve met, and he’s never met anyone who looks like the monster of a man before him. 

The monster smirks, picking up his fallen chair and settling into it again. It's too small for him, but somehow, it doesn't fall to pieces under his bulk. “You’re a hard kid to find, pipsqueak,” the giant drawls, grabbing again for the bottle that’s dwarfed considerably in his hands and taking a swig. It’s clear he’s had plenty of whatever’s inside of it already, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping him at all. “That’s the third one I hired.” This time the words are a growl. 

He wants, very badly, to exclaim that he’s not the hero and that maybe the trouble is that Mister Hero is never at home, but he sort of can’t. Good grief, he really hates gags, and the ropes bound around his arms and wrists aren’t particularly welcome either! From where he’s slumped on the floor, maybe having been dropped, maybe placed, he can’t be sure- he can see that his feet are free, and had it actually been Mister Hero they’d caught, that would be a deadly mistake. Between the fogginess of his head and the length of his robes though, he’s not particularly confident in his ability to stand right now, much less do anything to try and attack his friend’s apparent enemy. 

It’s clear no attack is expected either, as the giant settles back, leaning heavily on a table that creaks and groans at protest to his weight. “You owe me a rematch, pipsqueak,” comes the rough growl, slurring slightly at the ends of the words. “It’s been a long time coming, but Lynna City’s going to see that Buri Bonebreaker doesn’t accept defeat.” 

He doesn’t know what on earth is going on, but whatever it is, it keeps going. Still, from the blather of the drunken man, he can gather at least some information. First, that this person is called Buri and he has a minor obsession with Ravio’s hero counterpart. Second, they’re not in Hyrule anymore, but in a place called Lynna City, which, if he recalls correctly from Mister Hero’s many, many maps, is somewhere on the coast in Labrynna. Thirdly, Buri has something of a grudge against Mister Hero, and while he doesn't explain fully, the merchant gets the impression that the cause has something to do with a fight the man had somehow lost to the hero some years ago. How Mister Hero ever defeated a man this size so many years ago, he can’t imagine, but considering the other had already fought Ganon twice before they’d ever met, it would follow that he’s probably strong enough to have taken on some other foes too and won, even if the odds would definitely appear to be very much not in his favor. 

Lastly, he manages, after what feels like hours of being sneered and jeered at, to learn one final, and perhaps far more important piece of information; Buri apparently has every intention of having a “rematch” with Mister Hero, tomorrow. And he thinks Ravio is the hero, so Ravio is going to be the one who’s involved in this rematch instead of Link! 

Eventually, the giant passes out against the table, but Ravio, still stuck on the floor and still very much in pain from the pounding headache from whatever herbs were used to knock him out, is left unable to do anything save sit and panic. 

He can’t fight a giant. He couldn’t even fight Yuga who, for all intents and purposes, was just a man, ordinarily sized and without much proficiency in anything besides magic to aid him in fighting. He'd had to get Mister Hero to handle that one, and he’s still never gone up against anything in an actual fight in years! The closest was fighting off some bigger children in Thieves Town when he was a kid, and even then, he’d ended up running away as soon as he’d managed to get free from their grasp, food blessedly still in hand. He’s not improved in skill, hasn’t even tried, but this time there won’t be any avoiding it. 

If the cheering he can hear, rumbling outside like a wave of thunder, is a good enough indicator, he has a rather awful suspicion that this fight won’t exactly be a throwdown in an alleyway or a house. What’s outside sounds like a full-blown arena, and that means his destruction and shame will most likely be on full display to anyone and everyone who’s in there. 

Dark hair hits the wall, and he groans. 

He wishes Mister Hero was here. Him, or Hilda, or even Miss Zelda. Anyone who knew enough to give him a helping hand, or at least enough advice on how to slip out. Selfishly, he thinks at least his counterpart could handle being captured, because he’d escape easily, probably before even being brought to the person who’d put a bounty on his head in the first place! He has no such skill though, and the best he has is a knife he can’t reach and a desperation to not die anytime soon. 

Hopefully, that’l do him some good, but he deson’t exactly have high expectations. 

- 

His expectations drop in the morning. 

He was right, it is a blasted stadium that he’s been hauled to, and now he’s left standing in the middle of it, armed only with a knife that looks like a child’s toy in comparison to the axe in the hand of the man before him. Ravio’s heart is beating too fast to probably be good for him, and his breath keeps catching in his throat as he watches from the sidelines as Buri and another, apparently stupid person, duke it out before the crowd. It’s apparent that this is a tiered event, and so far, the giant hasn't lost, but he has left his opponents lying as bloody messes all over the arena to be scraped up by others and hauled away to be fixed up. 

Arena fighting is a huge part of Lorulian culture, so he can’t say he doesn’t understand how such a thing can exist in a kingdom, but he never did get the appeal. There's so much blood and violence! Dread pools up in his stomach as the match he’s watching comes to another bloody end, the announcer calling out, voice loud and carrying over the whole of the area, telling the crowd that the match is won. The winner is clearly apparent, his smile still crazed in the morning light even without having hit the bottle again, and the merchant’s stomach lurches as its fixed on him.  

The announcer continues, unaware, but telling the crowd about a special treat that’s apparently been prepared. Hearing Link’s name so loudly proclaimed isn’t nearly as exciting as it would be to know his friend was battling at Treacherous Tower, where he knows the other is the champion and quite capable of making it out alive. Here though, it’s the same title, apparently uncontested over the years, and this, the announcer tells the crowd, is the first rematch between competitors from five years ago, when the title was last taken. It makes a lot of sense to learn Link had won that title from the giant, hence the man’s lingering resentment and anger. Still, that’s not helping him at all. 

The hooded man, who apparently had wanted to stick around for the fight and is claiming a portion of the inevitable winnings of the giant in return for keeping an eye on Ravio, turns to him with a smirk. “You’re up, mate. Best of luck.” It feels like a taunt. 

The moment the gag comes off, he’s trying to protest, to tell the man that he grabbed the wrong person, that he’s not even a hylian, that he isn’t the hero! His words go unheard though, ropes quickly cut away before he’s pushed out and into the arena, the door between the waiting space for competitors and the main stage pulling shut loudly behind him. 

Oh, he is so going to die! 

The giant’s smile is a mad thing as he comes flying along, feet rumbling at the earth as the merchant fumbles at his sleeves, looking for the knife he keeps there, searching, seeking- there! He’s got it out and just in time to start running away, to dart as fast as his feet will carry him. 

Yet, his feet that fumble to move, to step at all after sitting tied up all night. He trips. 

Thundering steps slow, and he can see the shadow of a figure with an axe raised, although he’s too busy scrabbling to get back on his feet to even dare look back behind him, and then- 

A loud clang sounds through the arena, and a hush falls over the screaming crowd. 

The noise rings in his ears, painfully loud, and this time he can’t help but cover them, shifting up onto his knees and looking over his shoulder to see what in Lolia’s name has brought about so great a crashing sound. 

A familiar blue cap and glittering sword makes him nearly start sobbing in relief right then and there. The giant’s axe has fallen, but not on him, nor on the stone, but caught on the shield of his very own Mister Hero, who’s shaking just slightly from the impact but facing the gladiator head on and unblinking. 

“You...” the giant’s eyes widen, still crazed, but at least more focused than the drunken state of the night before. 

“Me.” He can’t see, not with the hero’s back turned to him, but he can hear the smirk as the shield is pushed up and the axe is cast off, rising again in another blow only for the call of the announcer to sound. 

He’s not entirely sure what happens after that. He only knows that, somehow, the giant catches ahold of him and starts yelling at Mister Hero, who yells back, sword raised and eyes glinting dangerously as they dart from Ravio’s terror filled face to the frothing rage of the giant. The announcer, who may or may not be acting as scorekeeper, darts over, and then the yelling gets to be so much that he can barely make out any of it over the furious pounding of his heart in his ears and throat. 

“I paid good money for this slip,” he’s shaken by a huge hand, “you have no claim over him!” 

“He’s my housemate, you asshole!” Mister Hero’s eyes are blazing as he hisses up at the face twice as high as his own. “How on earth did you think he was me? Let him go!” 

But the man won’t. There's more yelling, threats, drawing of blades and swinging that’s quickly stopped by the announcer, who jumps between the two with more guts than Ravio would suppose the fellow would have, hands raised to either of them. “I promised the audience a fight, so-” 

“You got the wrong Link Lon!” Mister Hero hisses. “You promised them a championship fight, but you’re not even bringing in the champion?” His voice carries, no doubt intentionally, and there’s murmuring from in the stands that clearly has the announcer, who Ravio supposes might also be the owner of the establishment, on edge. 

“We were informed-” 

“Your informant is brain dead if he can’t tell the difference between the Lynna City champion and some random fellow on the road!” And then the yelling starts again, and there’s fussing and there’s pointing of fingers, but Mister Hero’s eyes aren’t on the announcer anymore. They’re on Ravio. “Let him go.” 

The hand holding him by his neck, which is far tighter than he’d like, tightens even further. “No.” 

“He’s got nothing to do with this.” 

“He’s your housemate,” there’s a smile in that voice he definitely doesn't like. “Your friend, yeah?” And the tone drops, a growl that rumbles through the hand around his throat. “You owe me a rematch, pipsqueak.” 

“I don’t owe you a thing.” Dark eyes flit between him and the giant warily, and the hand on the Tempered Sword is tightening, adjusting its hold, ready to make a plunge even as the announcer yells something at the two fighters. 

Another squeeze cuts off his breath for a moment, but blessedly releases it just a second after. “You want his freedom? You have to win it!” 

Realization dawns, quickly overtaken with a sharpness and ferocity he remembers seeing directed at Hilda, at Yuga, at Gannon. Mister Hero is ready for the fight, and he’s pissed. “Fine. Let him go, and you’ll have your rematch.” 

“Win,” the giant hisses, leaning down enough that spit flies of his lips as he speaks and spatters over the hero’s cheeks, “and he’s all yours.” 

That seems to quiet the announcer too, who catches ahold of Ravio and surprisingly is met with no resistance as he tries dragging him away. The man’s strong, not as strong as the giant, but the merchant is hard pressed to get his hands free as he’s hauled across the stadium to a small platform where he’s quickly jerked to a stop. The voice of the announcer is even more painful up close and personal, and it rings over the crowd, announcing the change in competition, the foul play of a fake hero, but that the champion is in fact here now to defend his title. It’s all well and good, until he holds up Ravio’s hands and announces that the merchant is the “lovely prize” that the winner gets to take home. That’s too far, but unfortunately, Hood is back close at hand, offering to “mind the merchandise” so the announcer can attend to his actual duties. 

He’s had maybe ten minutes with his hands unbound, and despite the swings and every attempt to slip away, he finds himself once more tied up again as Mister Hero and the giant take their places across from each other in the ring. 

The crowd is well and truly losing their minds. 

Ravio himself is as well, worry building up as he watches. Yes, he knows his hero is capable, but this is a bit much. Ganon was one thing, Yuga too, because they used magic for most of their attacks. The presence of the huge axe, which would only take one swing to leave his friend in pieces, feels like so much more of a threat as he’s forced to just sit and watch. Well, not actually forced. Since no one’s doing more than keeping him from leaving, but he really does have to cover his eyes a few times as the giant’s weapon is raised and swung at the hero. Every time he dares to look though, Mister Hero is still standing. Blood paints the features of both fighters, but even Hood, at his side, whistles lowly a few times in a way he takes to mean his friend is doing surprisingly well. He's hard pressed to watch those moves though. That’s his hero in trouble, all because he’d gotten captured and hauled off to some strange country he’s never been to before.  

He is, perhaps, when they get back to Hyrule, consulting with Mister Hero’s smithy friend on getting a bigger knife. And lessons, he adds as he watches Link go flying over the giant’s head after performing a very impressive backspring, twisting in midair to swing his sword at the giant’s back. 

He’s watched the other train before, and he thinks Mister Hero calls that move a helm-splitter. It would make sense, given that if there was an armored helm to split, the force of that swing would most certainly have left it in pieces. A cry of pain rises from the giant as he spins around, just as the hylian hits the earth, rolling with the impact, quite literally, and all but bouncing back to his feet again the moment his momentum has run out. 

Mister Hero makes fighting look like a dance, and unconsciously, Ravio can pick up a subtle rhythm to his motions, a beat that’s followed like it’s a rule. It’s new, since he rarely sees any actual combat, and what he did was that one battle with their foes, not anything where the stakes were lesser than the fates of two kingdoms and all that lay within them. Here, all that’s on the line is his own safety, which he has no doubt the hero will preserve even if he did somehow lose, and the pride of his friend, which, considering all the other has already done in the name of saving others, probably isn’t nearly as much of a concern in the other’s head. Still, that desperation he’d seen turned on Ganon isn't here, if anything, Mister Hero is cold, closed off, face fixed in a stern look that’s only made lazing by the explosions of stars in his violet eyes. He’s fluid, twisting easily out of the way an not letting anything throw him off alance, off the steps of the unknown dance he’s crafted to use against his foe. 

And he makes the giant look like an incompetent idiot the whole while. 

Mister Hero’s laughter, not the wildly happy thing he’s seen once or twice, or the relieved desperation after everything was over and they were all safe, but a cold, cruel sort of sound that rings over the crowd, will sound after he avoids a blow. There’s damage done, yes; there’s blood flowing from injuries on both, but no full blow has landed on the hero, and he circles his prey as though he is the bigger, taunting and hissing, striking hard and fast and sure, feet gliding in the churned up dirt of the stadium, calling out to his opponent. 

It’s his way to know that Mister Hero is well and truly pissed. 

Buri is too, running, throwing his weight around, striking out in anger and missing, blinded by his rage as the hero glides out of reach and then flies forwards, blows landing hard and fast. 

Thye axe will lift and fall, and here and again, they do land close enough to tear skin and clothes, ort the edge will catch on the hero’s body just a second before he’s out of reach, leaving a stripe of crimson painted over sweat soaked skin. Still though, his hero doesn’t falter. One moment that great weapon is raised, Ravio shielding his eyes, and then there’s another hiss from his friend and he’s looking against to see blood flowing and feet moving, eyes flashing so bright they’re visible even from where he’s being kept like a trophy for the winner to claim. 

The dirt of the stadium is churned up all about, flecked with blood that’s quickly absorbed by already red stained dust. Feet shuffle, blades clang, and the shield of the hero raises, reflecting light into the eyes of onlookers.  

It’s one such flash of light that has him blinking, blinded, and opening his eyes a moment later to find that the hooded figure who’d hauled him here and now slumping across the ground before him. Another man, also hooded, but with red hair drifting over his eyes, flashes a smile at him. “Need an out there, mate?” 

It’s the same accent, but a deeper voice, and a kinder one, although it’s low with a whisper. A knife appears in one hand of the stranger, but it’s only turned to the rope on his hands.  

The announcer is too lost in his own shouting and excitement to even notice as the red-head catches Ravio by the hand- not the wrist or the neck, but the hand- and tugs him towards the door that separates the announcer’s space from the crowd. Quite frankly, he has no clue who this person is, but he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so far, they’re not threatening him or anything, just holding tight as they weave through the crowd, pulling him along through the screaming onlookers and towards what looks like it might actually be an exit. 

“Where-” 

“Patience.”  

It’s not the thing he wants to hear from a stranger hauling him away, but again, the man isn’t being rough with him. He’s had he continues too, because once the scream of the crowd fades and they’ve darted down a stair to a space below the seats, he sees some actually familiar faces waiting for him. 

“Mister Captain Hero Sir!” 

“Ravio!” The blonde spins about at the sound of his voice, relief washing over lovely features as he darts over, scarf billowing beautifully with the motion. A sturdy hand catches his shoulder, blue eyes flitting up and over him in a familiar once over that leaves both of them a little more at ease. 

“You’re okay!” Tune- Wind (he’s got to get that straight) throws his arms around him, and eagerly, Ravio hugs him back. He doesn’t get to hug long though, as the young sailor bounces back with furrowed brows, staring up the short distance between them with a faint frown. “How did you get away? The fight isn’t over yet!” 

The clearing of a throat has all the heroes glancing behind the merchant, eyes falling on his strange savior. “That would be me.” 

“And you are?” Mister Captain Hero asks, guarded and already looking ready to grab for his sword on the off chance that a fee be demanded for the merchant’s release. There’s no such request though. 

“A friend of your hero’s,” the red-head answers. “He can vouch for me once he’s finished kicking that idiot’s ass. I must say, his distraction worked nicely.” 

The question of ‘what distraction’ lingers in his head, but he doesn’t get a chance to ask it because, even if the sound of the crowds is dimmed from below, the mighty roar that sounds from above stops anyone from hearing anything else. 

The stranger smirks. “And that’s the idiot downed, I daresay.” 

As it turns out, he’s right. It’s only a moment or so more and Mister Hero is suddenly coming up to them, clutching one arm and bloodied to a concerning degree, but that’s all cast aside as the hero all but flies over and throws his arms around the merchant, grip almost painful for how tight it is. “Thank God you’re okay, you idiot.” 

“Oh, so you’re close friends,” the posh sounding voice of teh stranger chuckles. “I ought to have guessed.” 

He can feel the stiffening of the hero’s whole frame, but long ears prick forwards with an eagerness that’s not spoken at the sight of the redhead. “Ralph.” 

“Link.” 

“Thanks for grabbing him for me.” 

“My pleasure.” the man smirks. “You did put on such a lovely show, i don’t think anyone even noticed he was gone, they were so fixated on you.” 

A grin, sharp and bloodied from the busted nose his friend has acquired, is flashed, and that’s what ends the conversation as Mister Captain Hero steps in and demands they start treating Mister Hero’s injuries. The stranger, whom his doppelganger continues to address as ‘Ralph’, also demands that once first aid has been finished- which he takes no qualms in swiping off his gloves to aid with- they come ack with him to a “safer place to catch your breathes”. It’s a welcome thought, especially as Mister Hero agrees without question; a sure sign that it’s alright, for his friend would never agree if it was in any ways a risk. 

There’s questions, as they work to tend the rather copious amounts of cuts. What happened, why was Ravio captured, how does Mister Hero the giant, know the red-head, and of course what is going on in general. They’re all shut down though by the man called Ralph, who says there’s a time and a place for stories, but not while stopping someone from bleeding out. in Ravio’s experienced opinion, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but it does a decent job of granted a bit of silence to those doing wound care. 

Once the worst is tended, they’re heading out, moving quickly to avoid the crowds and the announcer who will no doubt have something to say to the veteran hero.  

Mister Hero keeps a hold of his hand the whole time they slip from the stadium, and even once they’re on the street, following the hero’s red-headed friend, he doesn’t let go. 

“No arguments,” the voice of his housemate is strained as it hisses between them, under still straining breathes but not exactly secretive, “when we get time, I’m teaching you to fight.” 

“Please.” he’d argued about it before, but quite frankly? He regrets that. “If something like this happens again, I don’t want to be useless.” 

One shoulder, the one that wasn’t nicked y the axe, checks against his own, dark eyes sparking as they tur on him. “This, will never happen again, okay? Never.” 

“But something similar-” 

“Ravio, I’m not letting anyone do that.” Violet hold green like the skies cradling the earth, only to break away a moment later with a huff. “But for pities sakes, there’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep knowing you’re as likely to hurt yourself with your weapon as you are someone else.” 

Rude! “You should have seen me in the war! My hammer wrecked quite the decent amount of destruction!” 

“Sure it did.” 

“I’m serious, Mister Hero!” 

But even for their words, the tone of his otherworldly twin is light, warm, and- for the hero at least- fond. 

He’s okay. They’re okay. Everything is going to be fine, and the only ones who aren’t are likely the giant and the announcer, who will have hell to pay from the crowd if Ravio was reading the situation right. Good riddance to bad rubbish though, and Mister Hero agrees with a tired laugh when he says as much. 

[causeimhappinesss]

Warm me up, Captain - Chris Redfield (smut)

Pairing: Chris Redfield x reader

Warnings: smut + wrap your biscuit, please + slight spoilers (RE village) I guess?

Disclaimer: I’m french and even if I’m learning English for ten fucking years, it’s not perfect and I’m sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes. If English is your native language (or if you’re bilingual), I would really appreciate it if you could help me by correcting my errors. Just don’t be too harsh, please. :)

***

"I'm so sick of this shit..." you sighed. You knew you couldn't give up on your efforts so easily, let alone so close to the goal. You had to find Ethan first to stop him from doing anything and no matter how many times you begged Chris to tell him the truth because Winters was known for never giving up, he refused to listen to you. What a stubborn man!

You chattered your teeth, it was so cold, much colder than you imagined in the Carpathians, in Romania. Although you were wrapped up in relatively warm winter clothes, it didn't change the fact that the snow and the freezing wind in the middle of the night made it difficult for you to move forward. Shivers kept running through your body. The only thing that kept you from being totally frozen was the activity, the running, the eliminating of enemies; it warmed you up.

"You look freezing... Are you going to be okay? "

"Yes, Captain. "

You had joined his team for good reason and you had fought to be one of the best, you didn't intend to let your fragility faced with temperatures get the better of you. When you entered Heisenberg's factory, that crazy German or Austrian guy, you quickly encountered enemies to take down and soon you found yourself running through this creepy place from the first to the last level... During the operation, the team members scattered, looking for the master of the place and possibly Miranda. Arriving at the fifth level, Chris and you decided to take a break and examine the tank at your disposal... Taking advantage of the calm and the refuge that the place offered for the moment, immersed in the darkness, you rubbed your arms in reaction to the shivers that ran down your spine.

"I'm going to look around, to see if there's anything interesting. " you indicated, in a solemn voice, in order to scan the place with your eyes. Then you started to look around, in case you find a weapon, ammunition, a grenade or something else. Why not find a new lead, which would allow you to meet your objectives much faster.

"A cartridge! "you exclaimed with a thin smile. You bent down to pick up the bullets and put them away, aware that you would need them. It wasn't out of the question that you might run out at some point.

Chris studying the tank, ready to call your name, turned and froze when his gaze lingered on your ass. Suddenly he felt hot and couldn't rest his gaze on that part of your body. You hadn't known each other for months, the situation was horrible and complicated, but he was an older man with good taste in women. He had always thought you were beautiful and you were in front of him, in an exciting position. He wished he could stroke your curves, fuck you here and hear your moans, even though it wasn't safe to do it here... Why was he imagining all this? Now? He wasn't a twenty year old with raging hormones anymore! While fantasizing about you for less than a minute, he felt his cock harden in his black pants.

"Shit..." he swore into his beard as he looked down at his nearly invisible boner before feeling himself. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to scroll through the most sickening images before his eyes that his brain could produce. His erection didn’t subside. When he opened his eyes, he swiveled slightly to the side, you had stood up and turned your beautiful and cute face towards him.

Without noticing his crotch problem thanks to the dim light and his dark pants, you moved closer to him, still rubbing your arms. It didn't escape his gaze and instinctively, he helped you to warm up with these frictions, much more efficient than you with his thick and chalky hands.

"T-Thank you, Captain..." you stammered, as your cheeks flushed with the closeness. You had always been attracted to Redfield, from the first time you saw him and talked to him. You liked everything about him: his kindness, his open-mindedness, his grumpy and stubborn side, his authority... Your face so close to his muscular chest, his hands on your arms, you dreamed of a simple hug, but you couldn't afford it... He was your superior! Suddenly, a bang and a shake from below pulled you out of your little bubble moment. You clung to his biceps, bumped into his chest and your lower abdomen pressed against his erection.

Your cheekbones flushed even more, if that's possible. You weren't that naive, you knew you were the reason for his erection. Your heart missed a beat. Your whole body was on fire. You had wanted Chris... for a long time. Some nights you dreamed of him, of him fucking you so hard. He was completely your type, even though you were in the middle of a major operation, you needed to kiss him, to enjoy the moment. Your breath quickened and you both stood up, bewildered

"I'm sorry, Y/N...” He sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

Too late to apologize, you wanted him to do everything you'd been dreaming of for months... Fuck you to the point you forget your own name.

"Kiss me." You cut him off, nervously. Was it right? No one could judge you at the time, but morally... You were a little confused. After all, he was your captain, your leader!

Without hesitation, Chris framed your face between his two thick, stubby hands. He pressed his lips to yours for a passionate kiss. One of his hands slid to your waist as your tongues danced wildly. It didn't feel wrong. You were ecstatic. It was as if you had known him for years and trusted him with your heart. Desire... Something that was hard to avoid. Hands everywhere, seeking body heat, discovering a new body. You admired his toned chest, tracing his abs and smooth skin with your fingertips, sensually.

It was a dangerous game to embark on a quick fuck, in such a place, that day, but you needed this. You couldn't imagine what was going to happen in the next few hours and you reminded yourself that life was short, especially these days... As much as possible, you needed to enjoy this sweet, sexual moment.

In a few moments, he ran his fingers over your body, pulled up your sweater, pulled down your bra to reveal your breasts, which he enjoyed titillating and kissing with fervor. Shivers ran through your whole body. Your pussy was getting wet and your wetness was sticking to the fabric of your panties. He got rid of your pants, while you opened his, lowered them, along with his boxers. With joy, you discovered a large and long veiny penis, reddish, twitching with desire. His kisses and embraces warmed your skin, feeling his lips brush against your chest, a teasing look on his face, to excite you like you'd never been before.

"Captain... Warm me up... I'm freezing..." you whispered in the hollow of his ear, mischievously.

His thumb traveled to your warm, wet center, between your thighs, before he gets ride of your panties. As he tickled your most sensitive part, you closed your eyes and a soft moan escaped your lips. He was experienced, that was obvious. He varied the pressure and movements on your clit to bring you up to cloud nine. His expert fingers plunged into your warmth, coming to tickle your oh-so-sensitive vaginal walls, while you craved his huge cock. You were trembling and exuding desire. You bit your lower lip to avoid being loud, at the same time you felt your first orgasm rising and before you could reach it, he stopped his movements. You opened your eyelids and came to caress his erect, hard member, its red head, covered with precum... You salivated with impatience. You made some movements of back and forth with your hand and if you dreamed to suck him, to make him beg you to make him cum, you knew that you didn't have much time, but you kissed the tip. Sighs of pleasure, almost inaudible, passed the barrier of his lips, as he threw his head back.

"Let me warm you up, Y/N..."

Finally, he stopped you in your tracks and with a simple gesture, you jumped. Your legs were wrapped around his pelvis as he supported you by your buttocks. With your back pressed against the wall behind you, you couldn't move as he was about to lead the way. The head of his pinkish cock titillated your wet, hot entrance, which begged him to take you. He knew how to drive you crazy, to the point where you dreamed of forcing him to impale you. Seeming to guess in your thoughts, to read in your eyes veiled with desire, he was in you with a single thrust.

"Oh fuck..." he moaned. You whined slightly together at the sensation. He let you adjust to his size before he began to move back and forth. The faster and more intense his thrusts were, the more you struggled to stay quiet. With one hand, he pressed his hand against your mouth as you tightened your legs around his hips, one hand on his buttocks to push his member further into you while the other played with his hair. You were drunk with love, with sex.

“Faster… Harder…” you wanted to say.

He quickened the pace, so much so that the pleasure became intense. Raucous moans escaped from his lips as you sobbed against his hand. You were gradually approaching orgasm, both at the same pace... At that moment, we could just hear your skins snapping, your faint moans, and the sound of your juices.

"You feel so good... So tight…" he whispered.

As your vagina tightened around his member during your orgasm, he lost control of his rhythm, he pounded into you brutally and it didn't take him long to ride his own orgasm. The feeling of intense well-being and euphoria took hold of him, letting his hot cum pour into your clenching pussy, filling you completely. Gradually, his movements stopped, although he was still supporting you... He finally withdrew, as droplets of his semen flowed from your orifice, reddened, until then martyred by his cock. A smile of satisfaction and euphoria stretched his lips.

"We should do this again when we leave this fucking village. " he annouced while sending you a wink.

***

Instagram (writer) : @carolinemertz_ 

AO3 : maybe one day? Still waiting to create an account aha

[coffee-and-quill]

Birthday Wishes Pt. 2

Stucky x Reader: You have been feeling neglected lately, but Bucky and Steve promised they would be there for your birthday. When they don’t show up, you are left feeling broken, and they are left wondering how they will every make it up to you

Authors Note: It took a long time to figure out how I wanted to end this. Relationships are hard, they are constant work and give/take. It takes communication and understanding for all parties to feel heard and loved. I hope y’all enjoy, and please let me know if there’s anything else you would like to see from me!

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It had been three weeks since Steve had seen you, talked to you, held you in his arms. Three weeks of radio silence, and it was killing him. He and Bucky had gone to your parent’s house the morning after they discovered you were missing. As if they weren’t feeling awful enough, the icy look your mother had given them so different from the warm, caring smile they were used to, sent shockwaves through their chests. Steve had begged to talk to you, but your mother had told them that you had left early that morning. You were going somewhere they couldn’t find you or bother you. When Bucky had tried to get more information, she had slammed the door in their faces.

              It took two more days of searching and desperation to figure out that Tony had helped you go completely off grid. “It’s not my place to tell you where she is, you shouldn’t have fucked up this bad,” the billionaire had told them when they tried to force your location out of him. He wasn’t wrong, and that set a heavy weight on their chests like nothing they had never felt before.

              Steve tried to go back to work, but every time he tried to buckle down and focus, or to accept a mission, he thought of your face. What if you wanted to talk to them? What if you came back and he was so caught up in his work again that he lost you for good? He might have already lost you, and the thought alone was enough to bring him to his knees gasping for breath. He felt small, smaller than he’d ever felt in his life. He would take being a sickly, scrawny kid in the 40s over these feelings any day. It got to the point where Fury told him to go home and not come back until his head was in the game again. “At this rate,” the director had grumbled, “You’re likely to get yourself or someone else seriously hurt if you continue as you are.” Steve didn’t argue. Instead, he slumped home, collapsed on the couch, and sobbed. Pain and heartbreak were the only things he knew anymore.

              Bucky was no better. After the acceptance that there was no finding you until you wanted to be found, the former assassin completely shut down. He barely ate and never slept anymore. How could he when there was the constant reminder that you were no longer in his life, no longer snuggled safely between Steve and him. The nightmares came back full force. He had almost forgotten what it was like to wake up screaming in a cold sweat. Now, instead of visuals of Hydra and the chair, and the blood and death that followed him like a storm, he had nightmare of you telling him you were done with him. You told him with a stone face that you’d never loved him, that you could never love a murderer, and you left with him begging and screaming on the floor. During the day he stayed in bed. He felt useless and weak, so, so weak. He was used to suffering, used to the constant weight of guilt on his chest. But this, this feeling, this guilt was far worse. People are constantly telling him that his actions as the Winter Soldier were not his fault, but this was all on him. There was no scapegoat, no evil organizations pulling the strings, no excuses, no one else to blame but himself. He was the reason you were gone, and it was destroying him.

 ()()()()()()()()()

                Three weeks, and you were feeling like absolute shit. You barely slept, ate only what you could unwrap in seconds, and you’re pretty sure you haven’t showered in at least a week. You couldn’t tell what day it was; time seemed to slip and slide together in a meaningless fuzz in your mind. Most days found you on the small couch of the cabin Tony had so graciously offered you, the TV on a low hum in the background playing some sort of celebrity reality program. Not that you really cared. Nothing really held your interest for long anyway. Your thoughts were stuck back in your apartment with your boys. You kept replaying the better times over and over, trying to figure out where you went wrong.

Back when you first got together, Steve and Bucky had been so sweet, so shy when bringing up the idea, so afraid that you would turn them away and they would lose the best thing that had happened to them since they were reunited. When you told them you wanted to give it a try, they had been ecstatic. Their excitement was infectious, buzzing around you like two overenergized puppies who had just been given the best treats of their lives. Those first few months had been blissful, none of you willing to be parted from the other longer than a day or so. You went on dates, ate crappy Chinese food together, snuggled up to each other on the cold nights.

You were crying again thinking about those times. You missed being with your boys more than ever, missed the connection and the feeling of safety and security. You missed the two people who knew you better than you could ever know yourself. You had been stuck on a loop for the past three weeks. Where did it go wrong? When did it happen and how did you not notice? Was it you? God, if you could only talk to them. You had so many questions, so many concerns. Mostly, however, you just wanted a hug. You just wanted to be held between your Stevie and your Bucky and you wanted to feel loved.

It had been around midday, after shoving down a lukewarm hot pocket, that you heard the front door of the cabin click open.

“Damn,” came the snarky voice of Tony Stark, “You look worse than I did after that one Easter party I threw.” Even through the fog in your brain, you couldn’t help but smile.

“That was your own fault, Stark,” you sassed, “Who the hell takes that many tequila shots at a brunch party?”

The billionaire scoffed. “Obviously you have no sense of danger, babe.” You flipped him the finger. “So,” he said, lifting your feet up so he could make himself comfortable on the cushy couch, “It’s obvious to me and to literally everyone else that something went on between you and the two super stooges back home. And by the way they have been moping around the tower and by the grease buildup in Barnes’ hair, they are fairing about as well as you.”

Your ears perked up at the information. You should feel satisfied that Steve and Bucky were feeling miserable for what they did. You should feel relieved that they are getting a taste of what they put you through. Instead, you just felt your heart sink into your stomach. No matter how angry you were at them, you could never stand the thought of them in pain.

“I’m not saying the two don’t deserve it,” Tony continued, “I’m just saying that if your going to make them suffer, at least do it in a way that you aren’t suffering as well.”

“I don’t want to make them suffer,” came you soft reply.

“No?”

“I was hurt.” The tears that had been gathering in your eye dripped down your face at your watery tone. “I was hurt, and angry, and I just felt like I had to run to escape those feelings, so I came here. But the longer I stayed, the less hurt and angry I felt. And then the sadness and loneliness came and I felt like I was drowning, and all I wanted was to be back with them. But I had already stayed away for so long. What if they don’t want me anymore? Or they think we can fix things? What if they realize they aren’t willing to try, Tony? I don’t think I could handle that.”

Tony scrubbed his hand over his face and let out a huge breath. “I can’t answer those questions for you, sweetheart. Lord knows if I could take the pain away, I would. But nothing is going to happen with you sitting here and refusing to talk to them.” You nodded, knowing that what he was saying was logical. You couldn’t solve anything by sitting around and moping, and lord knows you won’t solve anything by running away.

You took a deep breath “Ok. I’m ready to come home.”

“Good.” Tony stood up and adjusted his suit. “Because honestly, the boys have start loitering outside my lab looking like a couple of drowned kittens, and it’s depressing everyone.” He held out his hand for you, which you graciously took, standing and hissing out your cramped muscles. Tony took one step towards the door before stopping suddenly and turning back. “Maybe you should shower first. You stink like that casserole Clint tried to make for dinner that one time.”

Tony barely dodged the chipped mug thrown at his head.

 ()()()()()()()()()

                When you showed up to the apartment you shared with Bucky and Steve, your nerves had been on fire. Steve had opened the door looking he hadn’t slept since you had seen him last. His eyes widened and his arms twitched towards you instinctively, wanting to wrap you in in them and never let go. He held himself back, though it left a deep ache in his chest to do so. You wanted nothing more to go to him, to card you fingers through his hair and reassure him that everything was fine, that you were here and you would never leave again. You had to clutch the straps of your bag until your knuckles were white to stop yourself.

              “We need to talk.” Your voice was small, fragile. You wanted to run and hide all over again, but you knew this needed to be done. Steve nodded jerkily, widening the door to allow you to enter. Visually, everything looked the same; the couch was in the living room, blankets thrown haphazardly across the back, and the table sat in the kitchen with its three mismatched chairs and well-loved surface. However, as you moved further into the space, you noticed a staleness to the air that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t a home anymore, and the thought made you frown deeply.

              Steve closed the door softly behind you. “I’ll go get Bucky,” he murmured, and you shivered. God help you, you were so in love with these men. Even tired and beat down, Steve’s voice still had an effect on you. It reminded you of soft kisses over bare skin in the early morning hours before the rest of the world was awake, of tender love and honey sweet words spoken between breathy moans.

              You pushed the memory to the back of your mind as Steve reentered, Bucky following close behind. You felt your breath catch at his appearance. He looked broken. Dark circles fell under lightless eyes, the grief and despair that sat heavy on his shoulders was visible in the hunch he wore, as if he was being physically crushed by its weight. You could have honestly cried if it were a different situation.

              At the sight of you standing in the living room, he cracked a smile that looked almost painful. “Hey, Doll. I missed you,” he rasped. Hi voice was scratchy and rough from crying. Despite the somber tension that hung in the room like mist, you felt a sense of peace wash over you at the presence of your boys. Despite your nerves, despite your fears and reservations, you smiled at them. The tension melted from Bucky and Steve’s shoulders, and you knew everything would be okay. You could do this.

 ()()()()()()()()()

                The three of you spent hours talking. You told them everything: your fear of being left behind and forgotten, your frustrations with always feeling second place to the duties as avengers, the anger of that night and the emotions of the last three weeks. In turn, they shared their guilt and frustration at their own actions. They told you how they felt that being avengers was the only thing they could do to help people, it was the only thing they knew, and they had been scared to deviate from that routine, even when it had started pushing you away. They shared the fear they felt at finding you gone, and the terror and grief that had set in when they realized you might not come back and that was it for the three of you. Finally, they shared their confession that nothing they had done or would ever do as avengers would be more important than you. They wanted to change, to get better. They wanted to do it for you.

              What started as you sitting across from them quickly transitioned into the three of you cuddled together on the couch, seemingly one entity. Weeks of no contact had starved the boys of your touch, and they couldn’t remove themselves from you if they wanted to. Bucky lay across you legs with his head in your lap, his arms wrapped around your waist. You hand was tangled in his hair, massaging the base of his skull. Your other hand was gripped tightly in Steve’s as you leaned back into his broad chest. His blond head rested comfortably on your shoulder, turned inward to whisper his apologies into the exposed skin of your neck. Every once and a while he would leave a lingering kiss there, the skin tingling nonstop from the feel of his lips. You felt more relaxed than you had in weeks. That night you fell asleep in your bed, bracketed by the two most important people in your life. You would be okay.

[aecs-multy]

Even in the darkest hour, we will find the light

Summary:

When Arthur discovers that Merlin has magic, things go downhill fast, but sometimes you need to reach rock bottom to get up stronger than ever.

---

He was tired. As the last bandit fell to the floor barely five meters in front of him, all the energy left his body. Around him were the unconscious bodies of men and women alike, the bodies of those who had tried to hurt them. They had been too many. He knew there had been no way that they had gotten out of the ambush alive if he hadn’t used his magic.

He also knew that there was no way that Arthur hadn’t seen him using it. Slowly, he lowered his hand, that had been pointing at the last bandit he had knocked out. He was so, so tired. He didn’t want to turn around, he didn’t want to see the hurt, the anger, the hatred, the betrayal that would be in those blue eyes he had learned to love.

Merlin’s vision got blurry, but it wasn’t until a lonely tear run down his cheek that he understood why. He was crying. Right in that moment, he had lost everything. He lost his life, his home, his family, his friends, his soulmate. All his life hiding, doing things from the shadows, completely alone, without people that understood him because he couldn’t let them in, for it to end like this.

I should have let that last one kill me, Merlin thought, Arthur wouldn’t have any problem defeating him and I wouldn’t have to turn around and see him now. He almost wanted to laugh. To think that he didn’t want to even look at Arthur right now because it would hurt too much to see what his king was thinking.

The point of a sword was placed between his shoulder plates and he stuttered a breath. This was it. He was going to die by the sword of the man he had sworn to protect, by the sword of the man he loved. His destiny was going to be his end. At least I won’t have to face him, he thought with a trembling smile while another tear fell.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, and his tone was cold, sharper than the sword that threatened to pierce him. “Turn around.”

He gulped and closed his eyes. It took him what seemed like hours to do as he was told, his body trembling with the chill that had suddenly filled his bones, feeling so cold that not even his hysteric beating heart could warm him.

“Open your eyes.”

He shook his head and pressed his eyelids harder together, willing himself to not break down. When he felt the sword reach his throat, he let a pained gasp fall from his lips.

“I said open your eyes.” Each word was said slowly and punctuated with added pressure of the metal against his skin, until a small drop of blood run down his neck.

He did as he was told, but the moment his eyes landed on Arthur’s, he wish he hadn’t, that he had kept them closed and died without the image that would now haunt him during what little he had left of live and during his death.

Those beautiful eyes were shining with unshed tears, full of those emotions he had put there, and he would give his life to make them go away. Arthur was gripping the hilt of the sword with both hands, in a position he had seen him do many times during his training and their adventures. The difference was that his hands were trembling now. It was barely noticeable, but Merlin knew him better than anyone.

“You have magic,” he said.

It wasn’t a question, but Merlin answered with a weak voice anyways, “Yes.”

“All… all this time, you... you’ve been lying to me,” Arthur said, his voice quivering. “I trusted you, I… I let you in, you were my servant, but also my advisor and friend, I… how could you do this to me?”

“I-” he tried to reply, but nothing came out of his mouth. He wanted to say a lot of things, but Arthur wouldn’t believe him, not now, not ever again, and proof of that was how he pressed the sword harder against him, making him hiss in pain.

He kept staring at Arthur’s eyes for seconds, minutes, hours, days? He didn’t know, but none of them moved or looked away. Finally, Arthur put Excalibur down. “I banish you from Camelot, you have until midnight to cross the frontier, if you ever return, you’ll burn in the pyre.”

His whole expression changed as he covered his emotions with a mask, not letting them show, and that was worse than seeing how much pain he had caused him.

“No,” Merlin said, his voice surprisingly strong, but being banished and separated from Arthur would be a fate worse than death. Determination filled him and he swore to himself that he wouldn’t let Arthur send him away. If he had to die, then so be it, but he wouldn’t that which made him whole.

A flicker of anger went through Arthur’s eyes before he could control himself. “What did you say?” Arthur asked between gritted teeth.

“I won’t go away.”

Arthur took a step closer, making them stand with their noses almost touching, but they had never been further apart, and said, “Then you’ll die, is that what you want?”

“No, but the only thing that will separate me from you will be my death,” he said. Merlin turned around and put his hands behind his back, wrists together, presenting them to Arthur to tie them. “I will be by your side until my last breath, until my heart stops beating, so don’t tell me to go, because your face will be the last thing my eyes will see when my world fades to darkness and your name will be the last word my lips will utter.”

“Then you leave me no choice.”

He felt something hit the back of his head, and then he fell, unconscious.

oOoOo

They were all seated in their respective places in the round table, but Gwaine couldn’t help but feel itchy, ready to fight at any moment. Something wasn’t right, he knew it because no one else was in the room but them, and neither were guards outside of the door like there would be any other day. What made him feel worse, though, was the lack of Merlin.

Their friend was always there, even if he wasn’t a knight, and not because he was Arthur's servant. He was always there because he was their friend and even if Arthur would never admit it, they often came to him for advice.

That’s why he knew something was wrong, because Arthur wouldn’t have called them all without Merlin being there, not unless something had happened to their friend. As he looked around, he saw the confused and worried expression of the rest of the knights, mirroring his own.

As soon as Arthur sat, he spoke, “Merlin is a sorcerer.”

With those four words, all the blood left Gwaine’s face. He knew what those words meant, but he refused to believe them. Merlin wasn’t a sorcerer, he was his best friend, he would know. No, Merlin wasn’t a sorcerer.

The silence in the room was deafening, everyone looking around, as if expecting someone to burst out laughing and tell them it was a lie.

“He isn’t a sorcerer, Arthur, how could he? He is Merlin,” Lancelot said, some kind of urgency laced to his words. Gwaine saw that, of all of them, he seemed the most affected by the statement. Lancelot looked as if he had seen a ghost, panic clear in his face, his hands trembling where they rested in fists over the table.

“I saw him myself doing magic, I saw how he defeated 20 bandits with just movements of his hands right in front of me. Merlin is a sorcerer,” Arthur said without looking at them, staring at the door.

“He isn’t,” Gwaine said. “He can’t be.”

“He is.”

“No, he isn’t, because that would mean that he will have to die, and that won’t happen,” Gwaine said fiercely. He wouldn’t let his best friend die.

“He betrayed Camelot, he used magic. I offered him banishment, but he said that he would rather die than go away,” Arthur said, his tone was low, but full of ice and betrayal and it echoed in the room. “He will burn in the pyre first thing in the morning.”

Gwaine didn’t waste a second, he got up and drew his sword. He said, “You won’t touch a hair of his head.”

Arthur didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. “He is accused of treason to his king, of using magic and letting it corrupt him. Both of those crimes are sentenced with death.”

“Treason of what?!” Gwaine shouted angrily, hitting the table with his free hand, leaning on it. “He is the most loyal person you will ever meet, more loyal than all of us together, and not because of a lack of loyalty in our part. He has gone to countless dangerous places for you, done a hundred million things to keep you safe and to protect you. He is the bravest man Camelot has ever seen, and all you give him in exchange is burn him to death?!” He was breathing shakily and his jaw hurt. “If you want to hurt him, you will have to kill me first.”

“Then I accuse you of treason and will die alongside Merlin,” Arthur said, his gaze now in Gwaine.

“Then I shall burn with them.” It was Lancelot who spoke now, and Gwaine noticed that he had stood up and drawn his sword at some point too. “I knew of Merlin’s magic since the first day I came to Camelot.”

Arthur looked at him now, his eyes full of hatred and his words dripping poison when he said, “You knew?”

“I did,” Lancelot said. “You want to know what he used the magic for when I discovered it? To save Camelot from the Griffin. To save you. All those times branches feel on our enemies’ heads, all those times we lost the enemy, all those times he guided us in the right direction, he use magic to help us.”

“Am I surrounded by traitors now?!” Arthur shouted standing up, looking at the rest of the knights, that cowered under the anger that radiated from their king.

“No, you’re surrounded by friends.” Surprisingly, it was Leon who talked. “I didn’t know about Merlin’s magic, but I do know him. I don’t believe that he is evil, nor a monster, nor corrupted. He was your friend, and so are we, and that’s the reason why we stand by your side, but sometimes we must stand against you to make you see reason. That’s why you trust us, because we aren’t afraid of telling you what we think. If you wanted someone to lick your boots and kiss the floor you step on then you would have sacked Merlin a long time ago in the first place.”

Arthur looked more and more enraged by the moment. “Merlin is a sorcerer,” he said through gritted teeth, as if that was the answer to all their problems.

“So what?!” Gwaine asked. “He is our friend and he would never hurt us or Camelot. He is so devoted to you that he would go to the mouth of hell just to make you smile!”

“He lied to all of us!”

“And can’t you imagine why he did that?! In Camelot, if you use or have magic, you die. What did you want him to do, come and tell you?!” Gwaine argued.

Arthur shouted, “Yes!”

“He couldn’t because if he did, you would have killed him, like you are going to do now!”

“I don’t want to kill him!” Arthur said, his voice breaking at the end, and now Gwaine saw what was happening. Arthur had been told all his life that magic corrupted whoever used it, but now that Merlin was the one he had to sentence to death, he was conflicted in his beliefs.

“Then don’t,” Gwaine said softer. “Magic is just a tool, not better or worse than a sword. It’s the one that yields it who choses how to use it. Do you believe that Merlin, and forget for a second that he has magic, would ever betray Camelot, betray you?”

The silence that followed then was answer enough. “We all know Merlin, he wouldn’t hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it.” Percival said.

“And what should I do?”

“Go to the dungeons, tell Merlin that he’s free and he won’t die, tell him that you are going to lift the ban against magic, tell him he’s no longer your servant, and when he has a fit about it, and we all know he will have one because only someone like him would want to be your servant, then you tell him that he’s now the court sorcerer.” Gwaine said.

“I can’t just lift the ban against magic, a lot of people wouldn’t be happy with that and they will demand a reason.”

Gwaine was happy to hear that the only thing he complained about was what people would think. Arthur appreciated Merlin more than he would let himself believe. “Then tell them it’s for Merlin, half of Camelot likes him, the other half loves him and would kill you if you put him anywhere near a pyre.” Gwaine shrugged.

“This isn’t a time for jokes.” Arthur sat down with a heavy sigh.

“It doesn’t need to be made in the span of a day, it will take months, maybe years, but erasing the ban against magic will be what we will aim for, starting with the erasure of the death penalty,” Leon said, always the pacifist and the voice of reason.

“Merlin betrayed me,” Arthur said, probably more to himself than to the knights, and before Gwaine could argue, Lancelot talked.

“He didn’t. Is it betrayal to do something with the objective of protecting their king and kingdom? Is it betrayal to hide something to avoid their death? Is it betrayal to risk their life for the people they love?” Lancelot said.

“We can’t kill Merlin,” Elyan, that had been silent until then, said. “It would be wrong.”

Arthur stared at his hands, thinking, until he said, “I want to be left alone, no one is to disturb me unless it’s an emergency.”

Everyone looked at the rest of the knights, unsure of what to do, not wanting to disobey their king but worried about their friend in the dungeons too. Gwaine wouldn’t move unless Arthur promised that he wouldn’t kill Merlin.

“I’ll go and free Merlin myself, now go,” Arthur said, addressing what everyone was thinking, and one by one, the knights left. All but Gwaine.

“I know your father always told you that magic was evil, but, Arthur, Merlin needs you right now. I can’t begin to imagine how lonely his life might have been, hiding something so important about himself. If you ever tell anyone, I will deny it, but I’m begging you, don’t be a prat, because if anyone can break him, it’s you.”

He didn’t let Arthur answer, he was out of the door before his words could take effect, praying that his friends would find a solution to their differences.

oOoOo

With each step he took down the stairs he willed his beating heart to calm down. He had went to countless battles, fought against thousands of enemies, lead armies to victory, killed mythical beasts, but nothing had terrified him as much as this.

“I want to talk to the prisoner alone,” Arthur said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. The guards nodded and walked away.

He hesitated one, two, three times before he got the courage to walk in front of the cell where Merlin was. The sorcerer was sitting on the corner, his legs pulled to his chest, his arms around them and his chin resting on his knees, his gaze unfocused. His eyes were red from crying, his face was so pale that Arthur thought he was going to faint at any giving moment.

He had never seen Merlin like this, as if the life had been drawn out of him and nothing was left, just the shell of the bubbly man he had learn to love. Arthur still had problems believing it, that Merlin could use magic, that he could conjure such power.

The knights were right, Merlin didn’t deserve to die, he deserved every good thing the world had. He was the kindest, selfless, most loyal, bravest and strongest person in the whole kingdom. And yet, he had imprisoned him because Merlin had saved his life.

All the things Uther had said about magic, how it corrupted people, how it made them evil and dangerous, how they had to get rid of them, it had to be wrong. Everything he thought he knew about magic from his father was wrong. He didn’t know what to believe anymore, he was starting to doubt all the things he had learnt in his life.

His world was turning upside down, and the only person he wanted to be with was in a cell, where he had put him.

“Merlin,” he said, and talking now seemed like the hardest task of all, but he managed to choke his best friend’s name out of his lips.

The sorcerer looked up, a sad smile on his lips. “Is it time?”

Arthur felt sick. How could Merlin look at him, smiling, and accept his death without a fight? After what he saw at the forest, he knew that Merlin could have escaped, could have threatened him, or done something. But no, Merlin was there, sitting, looking miserable and staring at Arthur with trust and love in his eyes.

“It is,” he said with a shaky voice. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, but he blinked them away. He wanted to know what to do, he wanted a solution, he wanted to go back in time and not know anything about Merlin’s magic because that way he wouldn’t have so many problems.

“It’s okay, I’ll look after you and Camelot even when I’m gone,” Merlin said, his smile so genuine that Arthur had to grab the bars from the cell to keep himself from falling down when his knees became weak.

“It’s- it’s not okay,” he said softly, voice choked with emotion. He didn’t like showing emotion, he didn’t like being vulnerable, but this was Merlin. Merlin, who had stood by his side even at the worst of times. Merlin, who had broken down his walls and disarmed him with smiles. Merlin, who had been loyal to him all this time. Merlin, who had seen him broken down and, instead of taking advantage of that, he had built him back together. Merlin, who treated him like a person, like a friend, and not like a king. Merlin, who had magic and had used it to save Arthur even when that meant he would be accused of sorcery and condemned to death.

Merlin, who he trusted with his life and who he loved more than he loved himself.

He could be vulnerable around Merlin, because even now, Merlin still believed in him, he could see it in his eyes.

“I- I don’t know what to do, Merlin,” he said, his eyes glued to Merlin’s, pleading him and asking for some kind of solution to this mess.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, standing up and almost falling when his legs gave out. He managed to recover and walked to stand before him. “You might be the king, but you don’t need to have all the answers.”

“That doesn’t help, so just tell me what to do,” Arthur pleaded.

“Well, it’s nice to see that you’re still a prat, barking orders. One might think that after all this years you would have learnt that I never do as asked,” Merlin said, and somehow, Arthur chuckled despite himself. He bowed his head and looked at his feet, a tear falling to the floor, between his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Why? I like being here, at least I don’t have an annoying dollophead bossing me around,” Merlin joked, his tone light, but it did nothing to lighten Arthur’s heart.

“I’ve been horrible to you, haven’t I?” Arthur asked, although he didn’t need Merlin to answer, he already knew it would be a ‘yes’. He had treated Merlin horrible at times just because he felt pressured to keep his servant at arm’s length, because he was the king, and a king couldn’t be friends with his servant. Never mind that to him Merlin was much more than a friend.

“No,” Merlin said, and Arthur felt hands over his a second later. When he looked up, Merlin was watching him with so much emotion that Arthur felt dizzy. “You might be a royal prat, and bossy, but you’re also my friend. I know you, Arthur, and I know you care about me, you don’t need to say it for me to know it. You would have sacked me a long time ago if it weren’t because of our friendship, because let’s be honest, I’m the worst servant ever.”

“You are,” Arthur chuckled wetly, a few more tears running down his cheeks.

“You may not have the answer to this, but I’m certain that whatever you do will be the right thing. I believe in you.”

“How can you say that when you’re locked in a cell because of me?” Arthur asked. He wondered how it was possible that Merlin was the one consoling him and not the other way.

“Because I love you,” Merlin said, his cheeks slowly reddening with a blush. “I have loved you for a long time now and I never told you because I was afraid of losing you. You’re destined to great things, too, and I trust that you’ll unite Albion and lead everyone to a time of prosperity and peace like never before.”

He knew he should say something back, like how he felt the same and that they could rule together one day, that if he was destined to great things would only be because he had Merlin by his side, but he couldn’t make a sound. When Merlin gave him another sad smile and took a step back, Arthur didn’t think, he just reacted.

He grabbed Merlin’s face and joined their lips, doing what he had wanted to do for a really long time. At first, he could feel the surprise in the sorcerer in the way he tensed, but when Arthur didn’t let go or pushed him away, he relaxed, and finally, the kiss was reciprocated. It was uncomfortable with the metal bars pressing in his cheeks, but all that mattered was how much he loved Merlin and the soft lips that moved at the same time that his.

Shivers ran down his spine and a tingling sensation spread through his body with each caress of their lips. His heart wanted nothing more than escaping the confines of his body and go to Merlin, because the sorcerer was its real owner. The feeling of the metal bars disappeared suddenly and hands moved to cup his face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. Arthur’s arms circled around Merlin’s waist and pushed them flushed together until they were chest to chest, an urgency to touch him filling his bones. He could have lost Merlin because of his own stupidity, and he needed to know that Merlin was there, with him

“I’m sorry,” Arthur gasped when they broke the kiss to get some air, their foreheads pressed together. “I love you, too.”

“I got as much from the kiss,” Merlin said cheekily, his breath coming in puffs that tickled Arthur’s lips.

“Shut up,” Arthur laughed.

“We both know you don’t actually want me to shut up,” Merlin said, moving his head to look at him, an eyebrow raised in a way that made him look like Gaius.

“I don’t want you to change. I want you to always be you. Magic or not,” Arthur admitted, staring back at Merlin’s blue eyes and begging him to understand how much he meant those words. “You’ll have to teach me so that I can understand, but I can’t kill you, I could never do that to you.”

“I’ll tell you everything, I promise, even what I don’t want to say,” Merlin said seriously, but his eyes were full of happiness.

In that moment, Arthur noticed that with Merlin by his side, they could fix this, because they had always done things together. The reason why he couldn’t find a solution was because he needed his other half to guide him.

“Where are the bars of the cell?” Arthur asked when he looked around.

“I… made them disappear?” Merlin said, his eyes wide and innocent. It was such a Merlin thing to do that Arthur wondered how he could ever think that the sorcerer was evil. The knights were right and he would have never forgiven himself if he had sent Merlin to the pyre.

“Of course you did,” Arthur said, shaking his head in amusement. “Everything will be alright, won’t it?”

“It will, Arthur,” Merlin said, kissing him softly once again. “It will.”

[alicemitch09writes]

lame

02.

everything has changed (whether we like it or not)

When did everything change?

That was an easy question to answer, really. But there was more to it.

Everything could go back to the time Bakugouu first discovered his quirk in kindergarten, he had just turned 5, during playtime, he playfully shoved you before you felt force, heat – an explosion, before faceplanting to the ground.

Little Izuku ran towards you, helping you off your feet. Meeting the panicked look in your best friend’s eyes, you turned back to the blond, staring at his palms in awe, at the little explosions emitting off his sweat.

Funny enough, whenever he sweats, it was always sweet-smelling, never foul or salty.

“Uwah, amazing quirk, Katsuk!” your teacher said, kneeling down to give your best friend an appraising look.

Carmine eyes looked up from his palm, tiny explosives going off excitedly.

“Cool! His quirk’s so cool!”

“It’s so radical, just like him!”

Beside you, Izuku’s eyes sparkled with excitement, happy for your best friend for finally manifesting his own quirk.

“Kacchan’s amazing!”

Discovering your quirk at such a young age, especially with an amazing quirk, should be exciting. However, the look in Katsuki’s carmine eyes was scaring you.

The more he was praised for his quirk, the more his explosions went off, the more the gleam in his eyes was scaring you.

Who is…? What is this?

“Ah, I see. I’m just awesome, and everyone else isn’t!”

Later that day, a small burnt mark was found at the back of your neck. A tell-tale reminder of what’s to come.

And then, Izuku found out that he was quirkless.

It was supposed to be a secret between the three of you, but somehow, everyone caught wind of it and began avoiding Izuku, lest they get caught with his ‘quirkless’ germs. Because you were with him a lot, not showing signs of quirk, kids easily assumed that the quirkless germs were true.

Was that when things changed?

After kindergarten, Katsuki found himself a new set of friends, those who weren’t quirkless like you and Izuku, friends who had cool quirks that could considerably pass up to his.

Since discovering his quirk, not only did it fuel his ego, but it also put a strain on your once impenetrable and inseparable friendship.

Now, he was more bent on being the best of the best, together with his amazing quirk that’ll surely bring him there no problem.

Everyone else were just beneath him, not worth his time, effort, or breath. Especially Deku – how you detested that nickname, so full of malice, disgust, and mockery – everything Izuku didn’t deserve, especially from his once best friend.

Since then, he’s deserted the two of you.

You didn’t care, you had Izuku.

Fuck Bakugou and his new quirk, ambition, and shittiness.

You didn’t need him anyway.

From: Izuku

To: (Name)

(Nickname)! I’m doing well. Just having lunch with my classmates right now!

[image.txt]

Tapping the photo, you could see Izuku smiling at the camera with a few friends in the shot – the brown-haired girl, Uraraka Ochako, the bespectacled boy, Iida Tenya, and the quiet boy, too busy eating his soba, Todoroki Shouto. It made you smile in return, having your own lunch as of texting. 

To: Izuku

From: (Name)

You better eat up, then. You hear me?

Also, stop being so reckless and take care, okay?

Right after the events at UA – the whole League of Villains intercepting the school, Izuku was, more than ever, always brought to the clinic. And you, being one of his immediate contacts (next to his mom), would rush over just to check on him, fighting a tooth and nail just to be with him. And time and time again, Izuku would give you an apologetic smile, matched with his unyielding assuring words, kind eyes, and warm hug.

The only thing you ever hated about Izuku is his recklessness, wrought by his strong sense of justice.

Having enough of everything he’s been through, it was only fair that he revealed something to you, something to explain a bit of him getting accepted at one of the most prestigious schools in Japan while bearing an almost enduring and testy quirk, a secret he knew he could only entrust to you because you were one of the few people Izuku trusted more than anything in the world – his quirk was not his, but it was passed down to him by All Might.

The revelation was shocking to you, especially because it was tied along with so many other factors you couldn’t begin to fathom. But with enough explanation, eventually, everything seemed to tie together and make better sense.

Although worried about his well-being, once again, Izuku was quick to assure you that he was working his best to make everyone – not just his idol, All Might – proud and safe. That was more than enough for you.

Still, it was such a big secret to bear. But, obviously, he trusted you, because you were his best friend.

Well, you and that other guy, for some reason.

"(Name)-san, you're going to snap that broom in half!" your co-worker called out.

Loosening your hold, you inspected the wood, glad to see that it was still intact. It was still three minutes past four, you realize, just a few minutes before dusk.

Sighing, you turned to your co-worker with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Otoha, just got something on my mind."

Izuku did tell Bakugouu his secret in a roundabout way, the blond would at least catch on to that, being a smart asshole. You just couldn’t wrap your head at the idea of having to entrust him Izuku’s big secret.

The younger girl tilts her head to the side, in thought, as she stares at you. "Are you sure? You seem to be out of it since this morning."

"Yeah, I am. Promise."

Right after revealing his secret, Izuku had planned to have you and the famed Symbol of Peace meet – to assure both parties. But you declined, knowing how busy hero work was.

(Also, to be in his presence would be something. You couldn’t deal with that. Izuku going a mile about how amazing he was made up for it.)

However, with the newfound information given to you, it was almost too much to bear. It was amazing to hear how Izuku was adjusting to his new life, working his hardest, granted that he earned it all. Guilt gnawed your insides, realizing that you were doing him a disservice at the same time, as you had your own secret you weren't telling your best friend.

Exhaling through your nose, you walked around back, to return the cleaning supplies, missing the group of people entering the cafe, hearing only the cheery greetings from Otoha and your other co-workers.

05:51 pm.

The café was in full bloom, packed with students from various schools filling all the seats. You’d spot some of your regular customers, most don’t stay long whilst stop just drop by for a coffee fix before they’re off.

From the far corner, a small group of students you could only guess were from UA, judging from their uniform, were making quite a ruckus.

Thankfully, there was enough staff that day.

Still, working was taxing!

Off to handle drinks, you kept the newbies by your side, promptly teaching them how to mix orders, which cups to use for which drinks, the amount of syrup, etcetera before they finished up for you and you were left to prepare another order. Like clockwork, they’d be back by your side for another order, and the process would start all over again.

Seeing as how well they were doing, you decided to leave them to make their own drinks as you worked on your own. Coming up to serve at the bar, readying your smile, your expression froze as you were met with the last person you wanted to see.

"The fuck-"

Not letting him finish, you forced the smile on back before practically shoving the drink into his hands, uncaring that it almost spilled over.

“Oi-“

"Enjoy your drinks, sir!"

Otoha, your young, sweet, co-worker, saw the whole thing, flinched at your gesture, warily watching you turn your back to help fix other orders without another bat towards the blond who just stared. Discreetly walking over, to fix her own order, she whispers, "(Name)-san, do you know him-"

"No."

"Are you sure-"

"Yes."

"But-"

"Otoha," turning to her with a pained smile, you reply. "I've never seen him before in my life. Okay?"

Feeling a shiver run down her spine, the younger girl slowly, nervously nodded. "O-Okay..."

…

“Bakugou my man, are you alright?”

“…”

“That girl looked really pissed at you, do you know her?”

"..."

“Is she an ex-girlfriend? Is that why she was so angry?”

"..."

“Yeah! And you’ve been wanting to head to this café for a while now.”

"..."

“I must admit, she’s kinda cute- “

“I will end you, dunce face.”

09:08 pm

Ever since she applied, you had taken Otoha under your wing and she all but admired you after your first meeting. You both lived in the same area, so you’d take it upon yourself to walk her home, not trusting a young teen like her to walk alone, especially when evil abounded. Also, she was quirkless.

That night, you were walking along the quiet streets, hands in your pockets as Otoha hummed under her breath. You stopped, ears picking up on footsteps – two, no three people were trailing after you. Gently taking the girl by the arm, you led her to another route, to a busier area, hoping to lose them.

Otoha was too gung-ho about her surroundings to understand your predicament, which was probably for the best. Still, you could feel them behind you.

Exiting the busy lane, the two of you crossed the street, turned a corner, into an empty square. Just as you walked in, so did they – three guys in godawful flashy clothes.

Scared, the younger girl hid behind you and you took a step forward, shielding her from their lecherous gaze.

“Can we help you?”

One of them laughed, some pansy in ridiculous SUPRA outfit waltzed towards you.

“Oh no, no, no, can we help you, young misses?”

You had to roll your eyes at that.

“Well, let’s see, it’s late at night,” he drawled, flashing gold in his teeth “two girls are out walking out,” his two companions chuckled “dangerous is it not?”

Your expression remained, betraying nothing. The pansy decided to talk some more, probably on some shit about chivalry.

“And well, we gentlemen thought it would be just right to walk you girls home!” And there it was. “It’s dangerous for little girls to be out so late.”

And he was right.

“Otoha,” you whispered, as he continued to babble. “take this alleyway,” to gesture with a quick tilt of your head, something the guys didn’t notice. “go straight then turn to your first left, you’ll be safe then.”

“E-Eh? How about you?”

Smiling, you met her gaze. “I’ll be fine.”

“…So, little girls, what’s it gonna be?”

Crossing your arms, you sighed. “Well, you guys do have a point…”

They smile amongst themselves, rather smugly.

“But” taking Otoha’s hand, you tugged her towards the alleyway, pushing her with all you have onto her shoulders. “I don’t trust fuckers who look like they belong to the world’s worst dance troupe that easily!”

The younger girl took this as her cue, albeit slightly confused, but fuelled by panic to run for it.

Loosening your bag, you allow it fall off your shoulders, before it hit the ground, and just as his goons were about to touch a hide of Otoha’s hair, you were before him, eyes ablaze with a ferocious, eerily calm expression on your face, before kicking him away from the young girl.

The force of the kick sends him rolling on the dirt before he’s out cold. One down, exhaling and you fell into a stance, eyes yellow like the moon above you.

Bracing yourself for the next assault, your ears picked up something clinking – a weapon? Ah, knuckle braces which circle his entire fists. Ah, his quirk.

Beside him, his other companion put on his glasses, his godawful flashy clothes engulfing him like an armored suit.

Always gotta be ballsy.

The lights flicker above you; you didn’t move from your spot nor did you deter from their sneers.

“You’ll wish you came willingly like a good girl!” screamed armored flashy guy. Fists hammered against each other and the two were dashing towards you.

Despite being outnumbered, adrenaline rushed through your veins, reeling with excitement as you messed with them, toying at every chance you got.

Dodging a fist thrown your way, eyes caught on the armored flashy guy you easily swung low, aiming for his legs, playing a dangerous tango against two. Sweeping low, you managed to just barely block the kick thrown your way, using the awkward push back, forcing the weight unto your back before swiftly kicking him back.

Once knocked out, you focused on fists, quick to press your body flat against the ground to dodge a measly kick, before lifting your body ever so slightly to deliver a kick to the back of his head, slamming painfully to the ground. Two down.

The light above burst, glass flying everywhere as the armored flashy guy smugly laughed to himself. “Now look what you did, little girl. It’s night out~ A dangerous time for little girls like you~” putting on his shades, which were actually night vision goggles, he walked towards the unsuspecting girl. “And I have to take good care of good girls like you~”

Without turning, you grabbed the hand that reached for your head.

“Eh?”

You could hear the thump of his heart, the hitch of his breath, his muscles moving – it was satisfying to know how much he underestimated you.

“What was it you said again,” came your voice, smooth and calm. “you’d take care of a little girl like me?”

Clenching your hand in his, you heard a crack, he screamed in pain, falling to his knees with one hand in the air.

Head turning, he flinched at the sight of you – eyes once were (e/c) gleamed a dangerous yellow, maybe not like the moon, but of a creature of the moon, a dangerous smirk playing on your lips.

“You’re right, it is dangerous to be out this late at night.”

Faster than the eye can see, you elbow him in the face, hearing a satisfying crack, before tossing him away from you.

Exhaling, you felt your nerves come to a calm. Yellow eyes took in your surroundings, ensuring that they didn’t have any more accomplices.

Three bodies, down and unconscious. You were good. With the help of your heightened senses, you found that Otoha had just fled to safety and that there was an unwanted presence behind you, smelling like burnt sugar and spicy cinnamon.

“Can I help you,” without looking his way, you turned to grab your bag from the ground “Bakugou Katsuki?”

Having seen the whole thing, he was rendered speechless, voice caught in his throat. “(N-Name)…” was all he managed to say, clearly shocked at the new discovery. "Oi, oi, oi, what the fuck? Y-You…you had a quirk all along?"

Exhaling through your nose, quite angrily, you nodded. "Yes."

Even without looking his way, you could tell his expression had changed – feel his heart thump slowly, hear the hitch in his throat – completely seething that he was lied to, kept in the dark.

You barely flinched when he grabbed you by the shoulder, rather forcingly. "Then why the fuck didn't you-"

"Tell you? Oh please, don't give me that bull that you wanted to know." Pushing him away, you didn't mind the pain in your abdomen, choosing to distance from him. "It was enough knowing that you thought having a quirk made you the king of the world and those who didn't were peasants. In layman's term, it wouldn't change a damn thing."

Carmine eyes remained on you, wide, heated, for once not filled with anger, but of confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." You sighed, tiredly this time, massaging the bridge of your nose.

"No, tell me."

"What good would it do you?"

"I just want to know."

Scoffing, you shook your head, running a hand through your hair. "Your chances were used up; you have no fucking right now."

And with that, you left.

Despite being quirkless, Izuku managed to make up what he lacked with the help of keen observation that was powered by his fascination with quirks. Thus, began his ‘Hero Analysis’ notebooks, in which he’d list down hero after hero, their amazing feats, quirks, abilities, possibilities, theories – basically, a Wikipedia page. In addition, Izuku was stronger than he looked, especially because he had a heart of gold and a strong sense of justice.

You, on the other hand, could care less about quirks. They were something to behold, true, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still human just with an added bonus, that’s it.

For the longest time, you withheld the one secret you could never have the heart to tell your best friend – you had a quirk of your own. It wasn't an impressive quirk, but it wasn't a bad one either.

Your quirk was called ‘The Night One’ - having heightened senses, agility, and strength but only at night. Most of your abilities were likened to those of nocturnal animals. When activated, your eyes would turn golden yellow. As the quirk made you active at night, obviously, and making you a bit of an insomniac, its drawback was that it made you restless during morning time.

The Yoruichi family came from a long line of martial artists, all of which mastered every martial art known to man. Before you were 10, you'd mastered it all.

Your family was more of an anti-hero, which is why they chose to lay low and pretend they were normal quirkless folks. It was easier to hide in plain sight, after all. The family had a reputation in the underground business, especially for stealth and espionage work.

Eraserhead was a family friend, he was basically your uncle growing up. He was also your idol.

Your quirk first appeared when you got your first period, which was normal for a female in your family. Not only was it terrifying experience, but you didn’t really care much for it, especially since you just wanted to live a normal life free from the expectations of society and the weight of it.

The thought of heroes and quirks made you skeptic, to say the least. And it was thanks to a certain blond.

However, your parents were more than understanding with your views – however jaded they were, assuring you that it wasn’t all bad.

“But since you’re doing this for Izuku’s sake, I don’t see why not.” Your father had said, patting your head gently.

“He’s my best friend,” 7-year old you were quick to say, cheeks puffing.

“Yes, yes, we know. We all know who you’re really setting your eyes for.” Your grandfather said teasingly, causing your cheeks to burn, sticking your tongue out to him.

Laughter left your parents’ lips, your grandfather included. Gently, your mother took you in her arms, smiling kindly at you. “But, (Name), what you’re doing is quite noble. You may not like what I’m about to say, but what you’re doing is a mark of a hero – putting others before yourself.”

“Still, we’re going to work you to the bone in the Yoruichi fashion!”

Both your parents turned sullenly to your grandfather, clearly displeased.

“Father, please.”

“You ruined the moment, old man.”

So, when did everything change?

Was it the time Izuku and you were paired more often during class? Katsuki had plenty of friends anyway. He didn’t seem to mind, stating that it was better than being exposed to quirkless germs.

Was it when Izuku and you would still tagalong to play? In the end, Katsuki would leave you in the middle of a game with his new friends.

Or was it the time Katsuki fell off that log?

You could remember it, clear as day, you and bunch of other kids tagged along to play in the forest, Katsuki leading the charge as always, you and Izuku in the last. The lot of you found yourselves with a log that connected the two cliffs together, but Katsuki just walked on, the rest followed. Halfway through, he slipped on the mossy part of the log before falling into the water.

“KATSUKI!/KACCHAN!” both you and Izuku screamed in unison, scurrying down to help him.

While the rest of your friends called out, watching, the two of you were waddling knee-deep into the water towards your best friend.

“Kacchan,” Izuku’s small voice called. “are you okay? Can you stand?”

Yes, you remember it well. The look in his eyes when Izuku offered his hand, offered him refuge and help. You were next to Izuku, unsure of the tense situation at that single moment.

And what did Katsuki do?

He slapped Izuku’s hand away, throwing away everything you three had in the process.

That’s when everything changed.

Friday, you were working the bar, lazily keeping the counter clean, when the door opened.

“Welcome!” you cried, smile in place, it widened when you were met with green curly locks. “Izuku!”

“Hi, (Nickname)! Uwah, so this is where you work, it’s rather cozy-looking!”

Smiling cheekily, you pressed your palms against the counter, watching as he approached. “Well, it is a café.” Noticing he wasn’t alone, you smiled at the company. “And who are these lovely people?”

“A-Ah, how rude of me! Everyone,” he turned to the small group, who had been watching your interaction quietly. “this is my childhood friend, (Name) Yoruichi.”

“Yo!” you gave a two-fingered salute in greeting.

“(Nickname), these are my friends-“

“I kinda know who they are, Izuku.” You teased, cutting him off, making you laugh. “But, by all means.”

“Greetings, I’m Tenya Iida!” the tall bespectacled boy says, waving his hands robotically, almost dangerously.

“Shouto Todoroki.” The dual-haired boy nods at you, eyeing the menu behind you in interest. Idly, you handed him a menu so he can have a clearer view, he mutters his thanks.

“And I’m Ochako Uraraka!” the lone brunette female says, cheerily, grabbing both your hands in hers. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! Deku-kun talks about you a lot!”

“The pleasure is all mine, then. Thanks so much for taking care of my clumsy little broccoli.”

“(N-Nickname)!”

“Any case!” Iida chops a hand in, catching everyone’s attention. “We shouldn’t dilly dally! We must place our orders!”

“No worries,” you wave at him. “it’s pretty quiet this time of the week. But,” fixing your posture, standing a little straight, you put on your work persona. “anything you’d like to order?”

“I’ll have the chai latte,” says Todoroki, having made his decision. “cold, please.”

“Okay,” nodding, you turn to Iida, who orders a hot mocha, Uraraka orders a strawberry Frappuccino with cheesecake on the side. Uraraka turned to Iida and Todoroki, looking checking for available seats whilst waiting for Izuku – you liked them, they were a good bunch.

Turning to the green-haired boy, he was left eyeing the menu rather clinically, taking his time. Poking his forehead, he blinks at you. “Hot Matcha?”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know me too well, (Nickname).”

“That I do, Izuku, that I do.”

One thing that never changed though, the one thing you hoped never would, was the friendship you have with Izuku.

masterlist • three

[my-writings-and-musings]

Here's my latest commission from another wonderful and amazing person! A human reader is secretly a pyrokinetic, but an attack on Rodimus forces them to reveal their powers, and the more they unleash the more their appearance changes...

Warning for some violence and angst!

In the back of your mind, your relationship with Rodimus had been oddly perfect and ironic in ways you'd never dare tell him. The Autobot's love of heat had extended well beyond a simple temperature preference; he had a power over fire you'd never seen the likes of before. Even his own species didn't seem to understand how naturally he wielded flames for combat, nor how he possessed such an incredible resilience to temperatures that would have been painful for most. For his part, the cocky captain took the peculiarity in stride, emblazoning himself with fiery motifs and embracing his nature using an adorable mixture of puns and catchphrases.

It was something you loved about him, and while it perhaps explained some of his adoration of the seemingly unremarkable human that had plopped into his life, it also made you a little wary for his sake. If he only knew how attuned with fire you really were...

The thought of him discovering your greatest secret was a daily intrusion, but for today, you decided that it could go on the back burner. The Lost Light would be docking on a planet safe for humans, and you wanted to enjoy the time off to the fullest of your ability. No worries, no paranoia, no thoughts of past rejection... just you and Rodimus exploring a vibrant alien city together. It was going to be perfect.

"Got your debit chip, Y/N? I'm planning on doing a lot of shopping, and I don't want you to feel left out!" Rodimus said, exuberant even by his own standards as he stepped out onto the landing pad. Giggling as you kept your balance on his shoulder, you let the warm light of a foreign star cascade over your body with a sigh, the sight of a bustling alien port making your heart accelerate in your chest. All around you were races from a hundred different worlds, selling their wares and taking rest stops to relax during long intergalactic trips, and the flurry of sounds and sights and smells was intoxicating. You almost forgot to confirm the device Rodimus mentioned was indeed secure around your neck in a makeshift necklace.

"Got it right here! Show me where we should start, Captain!" You held the tiny black square in between your fingers, unable to imagine something so small holding so much value. Evidently it was the spacer equivalent of a debit card, as the name implied, and after a purchase it would simply be scanned and the necessary amount deducted from your account. Its simplicity was almost as hard to grasp as the fact you'd been gifted a ludicrous amount of money for this trip by Drift. In his own words, the ninjabot had told you to spend it on having a fun day with his best friend. The kindness of the entire crew was still so foreign to you...

"Let's check out the surf shop! My last board melted on an especially high power asteroid, so I need a new one." Rodimus said cheerfully, hefting you a little higher so you were right beside his helm. As a somewhat taller than average individual from a naturally towering species, he had an ideal view over everything in sight, resulting in you having the same. Between the packed landing strip and the notion of a store that sold surfboards for space, you were a little too overwhelmed to speak. Rodimus had no such difficulty. "Oh, or if you're hungry, we could check out an interspecies cafe! They've always got lots of earth food, even out here. Especially the extra spicy stuff you like so much."

For an instant, you were taken aback by his mention of your preference. Had he truly been paying so much attention he noticed such little details? On the one, more dominant hand, you were flattered. Rodimus had to care deeply to have noticed you preferred your food as hot and zesty as physically possible.

"I'm not hungry just yet, but thanks." you said in genuine gratitude, hiding some wariness that you desperately wished would go away. In the past your unnatural preferences had been the first clue most had to your "peculiarities", and it had never taken long from that point for things to come together in the worst possible way. Holding on tight to Rodimus for more than just balance, you quickly returned to the wonderful present, refusing to fall into the belief that the past would repeat itself. "I just want to start wherever you think is best. You're the experienced one, show me what's fun around here!"

"Well, if it's fun you want..." he said in a fake contemplative voice, having obviously had an idea he was preparing to spring on you. Taking long strides through the narrow path left by the many other denizens of the spaceport, he gave you an eager and barely restrained grin. Something almost like childish glee seemed to twinkle in his brilliant blue optics.

"There's a holo-suite lounge in some hole in the wall locale by the bay. I've heard nothing but good things about it, and it's all above board. Want to go on a vacation in a vacation?"

Thinking over your limited knowledge of the virtual reality establishments, you knew more than anything how your beloved bot adored the experience of risk free adventure they offered, finding it to be relaxing due to his day to day life. You were more than happy to let him show you one at long last, and chuckled happily as you leaned against his helm. "I'd love to, Captain."

"Yes! I have got to show you the coaster simulation, it's totally wild!" he said in victory, pumping his arms so suddenly you were nearly cast off his shoulders. Recovering quickly and catching you, he let out an abashed cough as he made sure to resettle your tiny form before proceeding far more carefully. In the moment it took you to realize the lack of leg room would make it rather hard for him to trek it anywhere in good time, Rodimus gestured to a narrow gap between skyscrapers. "We can cut through some alleys to get there faster. I plotted it out on the satellite map before we landed."

Though it didn't seem especially smart, there wasn't anything to suggest the move would be dangerous, as the planet had been cleared entirely as a secure zone. The few whisperings of anti-Cybertronian bias were too small for anyone to be worried, so you nodded your assent to use the shortcut. Careful to stick to the narrow walkways for beings of his size, Rodimus kept you secure with one hand as he hopped an underwhelming barrier to access the alleyway, chatting the whole time about all the possible simulations the two of you could try. He's talking so fast it's actually impossible to keep up as he walks between two superstructures and down the alleyway that feels more like a canyon. As the hubbub of the crowd fades to the gentler din of the machinery keeping the city going, it's easy to forget your surroundings entirely, all to allow the other's excitement to wash over you. You don't even notice how the alleyway has tiny side sections for maintenance and smaller species to traverse safely.

Until you see one pop out right in front of you.

Rodimus stops politely, assuming initially he's just met another traveler that he plans on letting pass so as not to be rude. But the alien doesn't move. Though you can't read their expression, the none too tiny organic immediately sets of your alarm bells, and a hot knot of anxiety twists in your stomach as you tense atop your partner's stiffening shoulders. As awkwardness morphs into tension, the Autobot speaks with an even and cool tone.

"There a problem here?"

An answer came not from the insect like being in front of you, but from another stepping out in the space behind, their clawed hands curled about a weapon of unknowable function.

"Typical tin man, cutting corners and plodding around like it owns the place." they said, rasping voice echoing through the translator in your ear. Before you could even guess what they meant by a phrase that was probably intended to be an insult, more began to slowly emerge from splintering alcoves and alleyways, and in moments the two of you were surrounded. Skillful as Rodimus was in a fight, there had to be enough firepower between them all to make this far from an easy win. As heat crackled instinctively to your palms, the Autobot remained calm.

"Look, if this is your filthy back alley, I'll happily leave you to it. I've got better places to be and far more attractive company to enjoy." he said glibly, making you want to kick him for not being diplomatic. For his sake he needed to be, and as for you, situations like this one had never gone well in the past... Your heart began hammering as the lead alien replied with what was likely a glare.

"Bit too late for that."

Like sharks, they began to close in on the much bigger bot. You wondered how things could have taken a turn so quickly. This was a reputable port on a stable planet, how could it be unsafe? Had the two of you not just been planning a day of fun? These aliens had to have been waiting to be this prepared, and as the next one spoke you started to understand.

"Should have stayed in your own corner of space, tin man. We're not gonna let your kind set up shop here."

"Last I checked, this was a bot friendly planet." Rodimus replied, still unnerved but tense as a rock beneath you. He was getting ready, you knew, but for what was anyone's guess. As you held onto him you prayed the plan was solid, because the heat in your body was starting to grow to levels he might notice, and that couldn't be allowed to continue. Hopefully his need to stall wouldn't last long...

The circling group, that you counted at twenty or more, took the bait. "For now, until the beauracracy gets its priorities straight. In the meantime, we're here to make sure you don't bring your trouble to our home, like your kind always does."

"Plus, can't hardly expect the authorities to prosecute what they don't know about, can you?" another said, now so close Rodimus could have kicked them. The hatred in their eyes was beyond you, and their words made the heat in your gut twist into nausea. "Your kind is easy to clean up afterwards; melt down what you can and sell it all offworld."

Rodimus, one hand still steadying you, tightened his grip possessively. Time felt like it was slowing down as you looked about madly for an exit, swearing that the enemy seemed to double every time you blinked. There had to be over twenty of them now, and the high but narrow space gave your partner little room to work with you in the mix, something he seemed well aware of as he next spoke. "What about the human? They're innocent in all this, and organic. Let them walk away."

"They chose the wrong side." the apparent leader clipped.

Bright blue optics looked to you, and a hushed voice whispered at impossible speed.

"Y/N, when I say now, be ready to tuck and roll and run. No looking back, understand?"

There was no time to say you agreed, let alone to argue.

"Now!" he shouted as a high energy weapon began to hum in preparation, followed by so many others. Before you knew it you were being moved in a wild blur. Rodimus made good on his plan, moving as precisely as he could with your comparatively fragile body to toss you over the heads of the enemy. Using the reflexes you'd honed in his company, you did as you were bid more or less subconsciously, curling up and moving with the momentum so that your landing was less than disastrous.

"Rodimus!" you choked out upon catching your breath, turning to see the group advancing with their weapons glowing hot and ready.

I said run!" he shouted, not looking at you before taking care of the first row of attackers with a wide arcing kick. More seemed to be emerging every second, but the Autobot only looked concerned for you as he swiped away another batch. "Get the others! I can hold them off until-!"

With a screech, the first weapon fired, but there was no energy beam or bullet. Instead, Rodimus was ensnared in a tangled mess of high voltage cords, their arcing metallic webs circling his upper body like a snake. Crackling electricity seared across him in a blinding burst, and he was on his knees in moments, crying out at the agony that left him helpless. In rapid succession several more shots were fired. The Autobot was left to scream on his hands and knees, the electronic pulse weaponry having been specifically designed to cripple Cybertronians in seconds and kill them in minutes.

You knew he wouldn't last long enough for you to get help.

In last ditch desperation, you grabbed the cord on your neck and pulled, snapping it so the microchip in your palm could be held aloft. "Please! I have a debit chip worth thousands! Just take it and leave him alone!"

"Just something else to make this more worth our while." the alien you'd begged to sneered, giving you a kick straight to the gut with a deceptively powerful leg. The wind was knocked from your lungs, and you were left trembling on the ground. Vision spinning, you caught sight of Rodimus barely clinging to consciousness, his flaring optics pleading for you to run. Clawed hands had a hold of your arms before you could attempt to fight back, and the leader gave a casual order as they continued to fire pulse after pulse through the metallic web. "Grab the sympathizer; we'll take care of them after this one's fried."

It was clear that survival hinged on the unthinkable. Heat in your gut became molten as you summoned what you knew was your only hope, the air about you filling with the scent of smoke as you looked up Rodimus one final time as his partner. You'd always hoped it would never come to this, but fate, it seemed, was determined to be unkind.

"I'm sorry..."

The aliens on either side of you yelped and released their hold on your arms as the skin went from hot to searing, their confusion turning to fear as the heat only continued to intensify. Your clothes singed and the air thickened, and while it only took moments, the remaining attackers became aware of the change far too late. Shouts of alarm didn't register amongst the crackling sparks that started dancing up and down your body. It had been very long since you'd used these gifts, but you knew the steps far too well to ever forget.

A jet of flame erupted from your palms with the force of a rocket leaving the earth, blasting back numerous aliens from the sheer power. You heard screams but they hardly dissuaded you, as they'd all more than earned what was coming. The heat began to reach levels high enough to clear the air of any moisture, making those still alive after the first blast cough and struggle to breathe, all the while rendering them incapable of fleeing.

You should have just ended it there; cut the flames and told the survivors to get lost, but you weren't done. It felt far too good for you to stop.

A literal ring of fire encircled the gathered aliens, trapping them all in with you as they tossed aside their white hot weapons and tried to find a way out. Rodimus was immune even to the extreme heat, but dazed enough from his shock not to truly be conscious. You stepped over to him as the fire danced at the command of your fingertips. After the fear of the ambush, the choking heat and crackling flames felt like a breath of fresh air. You were at home in the inferno.

Hearing a scream, you realized rather quickly that payback was still due. Smiling softly, you beckoned the fire to move, controlling it with mere gestures and the simplest of thoughts. It danced like a snake would for a master charmer, coiling about the enemy and suffocating them. You were far too busy indulging yourself to notice how the waves of heat washed over your skin, particularly how the flesh hardened and patterns began to emerge like the scales of an otherworldly being. Similiarly, the sharpening of your teeth and the rise of claws from your fingertips drew no trace of concern. All that mattered was how good it felt to make your attackers pay.

There were more than enough of them for you to take your time, and so you did, keeping them corralled in the fire as you picked them off one by one. Had they expected anything like this when they'd made you a target? Had they prepared for the possibility that not everyone would just lie down and die? Had they even bothered to consider the Autobot wasn't the most dangerous being here?

As one body crumbled to ash, you got your answer in a way that made you smirk; clearly they hadn't.

As you began to run low on targets, it occurred to you that keeping up your wall of fire might draw unnecessary attention. Frowning around canines you realized had developed a lovely point, you decided to finish the fun. Clawed fingertips snapped together to command the flames to converge, and they did so in a heartbeat, jumping upon the survivors like rabid dogs on a meal. You barely registered a scream before ash and cinders began drifting past on a hot breeze. With another smile, you recalled their comment on crimes going unpunished when they were properly cleaned up. Dismissing the fire with a wave of your hand, you thought smugly on how these piles of soot would hardly suggest what had happened here.

Rodimus stirred from his daze, groaning in discomfort and shifting beneath the web of deactivated electric pulsers. Frowning at the sight, you summoned a thin jet of fire from your fingertips and got to work. The metal coils turned to red slag with very little effort, which melted down the heat resistant bot's body like wax before dripping to the ground around him. In no time you had him free, and while the flames actually seemed to perk him up a bit, the Autobot was clearly not in a good way. When he failed to awaken after you said his name your confidence started to dissipate. Heart hammering once more, you dropped to your knees beside his helm, hoping to wake him with some gentle encouragement to get him moving.

It was when you laid your hands on his helm that your thoughts shifted to horror, but not for his sake. The normal human hands you had once possessed were now tipped with wicked claws, and as your eyes trailed upwards you saw that your skin was patterned with scales of an equally inhuman nature. Sharp fangs registered with proper horror in your mouth now that the adrenaline of the moment was gone, and you realized that unlike every single time before, you weren't turning back to normal. You must have gone too far this time... How could you not have, killing dozens of people, as desperate as the situation may have been? You had liked it too, and even now you couldn't bring yourself to regret what you'd done...

"Y/N?" a raspy voice spoke up, startling you with good enough news that you momentarily forgot your panic. Rodimus stirred more effectively, groaning in pain but appearing otherwise stable as he lifted his helm off the ground and looked to you. His expression turned to fearful concern before you could speak. "Are you okay? What did they do to you?"

"I..." You didn't have the words. No doubt you were a horrifying sight, twisted as you were and smoking in your burnt clothes... It was a miracle he recognized you at all.

Rodimus narrowed his optics, perhaps thinking everything he'd seen was the result of processor trauma from his shock. "You burned them... I saw... but you don't have a weapon."

"I am the weapon." you blurted out, baring your fangs without meaning to. At his confusion, you tried to explain, a sinking feeling pulling you down as you did so. There was no way you could be with him like this... Appearance aside, you'd awoken a part of yourself you couldn't trust. Still, he deserved to know. "I never told you... I've always been able to do this, but could never go too far, unless..."

"You saved me." he whispered in awe, weak but insistent as he reached for you. On reflex, you pushed his hand away.

"I killed them. All of them. I finally lost control and now..."

Rodimus perked up a bit, looking desperate when your intent became clear to him. Even after a beating, he could read you well, and your decision to leave for his sake was clear in your face. "They were going to kill us both! You didn't do anything wrong-"

"Look at me!" you shouted back, curling clawed hands into fists as each grabbed at your head. You swore you felt newly erupted horns crowning your brows, and that discovery drew sizzling tears down your cheeks. "I burned them, and I liked it, and now I look like this! I'm a monster, and I'd do it again!"

"Y/N-"

Wiping away the wetness from your eyes, you stood up sharply, knowing he wouldn't accept what was best for him. "You can't be with me like this, Rodimus. I'm not even human..."

"I'm not either!" A gentle but insistent hand looped about your middle, turning you back around to look at him before he nearly collapsed from the effort of the movement. Wide blue optics pled to you as he did the same, baring his spark with every single word. "Please, Y/N, I know this is a lot for you but please... don't leave me... I can't lose you."

"Haven't you already?" you said bitterly, optimism nowhere to be found as you surveyed a clawed hand. Rodimus didn't flinch at the sight.

"You think a new look will scare me away? Plus, I'm fireproof, remember? You can't hurt me." he said with his best attempt at a winning smile in his current state. Losing it in an instant, he hugged you closer, optics betraying the depths of his pain and desperation as he did so. The Captain was holding on to you like a lifeline. "I need you, okay? Please, just give me a chance to work this out with you. I love you, no matter what."

It was the first time he'd told you that, but you knew he meant it. A softer heat, like a pleasant campfire, filled the space around your heart. Holding a digit of his in your hand, you gave a gentle squeeze. "I love you too..."

"So stay with me?" he said softly, pulling you in for something like a hug. Getting down on your knees, you cuddled close to his helm, a few stray tears dripping down onto his armor. Rodimus didn't even flinch as he whispered into your ear. "We'll figure this out. I don't care if this is the new normal, as long as you're with me."

"Okay..." you replied, nodding as you recalled the thoughts of irony you'd had just that morning. How perfect he was for you, a fireproof being so enamored he didn't see what a risk you were to everything... But if he was willing to try? Well, you couldn't deny how much you wanted this to work either... Holding him tight, you replied with the best promise you could give at the moment, but like him you meant it.

"We can try..."

Like this? You can commission me for a story of your own here!

[willwedie-justalittle]

Teen wolf and sounds

Ever since I started watching tv, I noticed that I would be more likely to recognise songs and voices instead of faces. That lead to a game in my household where I would try to remember which characters had the same voices, since the shows I watched were mostly American and needed dubbing. This means that most of the time, a single French guy would be the voice of a lot of different characters. I also spent a lot of time just singing the theme songs or trying to recognise which song was being used in a scene. And when I started TW, I watched it in English. That meant that I no longer needed to listen to the voices to see if they reminded me of another character, I could just concentrate on the sounds the makers of the show decided to use.

When making a cinematographic piece, there are a lot of things to take into consideration. Not only does the cast have to be good, they also have to make sure the visual and sounds serve a purpose. A dialog can be perfectly delivered by the actors, if their surrounding aren’t made to follow along, it just becomes a pretty useless scene. And since I’ve watched a shit ton of Teen Wolf over the years, I wanted to talk in length about the sounds and noises used by the makers of the show to help move the story forward, and how much I enjoy it. I originally wanted to concentrate on the 3rd season, but I soon realised that I couldn’t limit everything to a single season. Everything that’s being said here doesn’t reflect anybody’s opinion but my own. I accept criticisms, and I also recognise that I don’t own kind of degree regarding movies and/or sounds. I’m just a 27-year old who loves cinema and music. Don’t take it too seriously. This is also a disclaimer : I’m French, so there might be some mistakes along the way, don’t hesitate to tell me and I’ll correct them.

This goes without saying, but SPOILERS.

Here’s how I organised this :

I : Introduction to sounds, for the viewers and the characters

II : Wolves and vilain, how they communicate?

III : What if we just talk?

IV : The new world within the new world

________________________________________________________________

I : Introduction to sounds, for the viewers and the characters

Where it all began

For this story to exist, there is one thing that can’t be taken away : a police scanner. We overhear that a body has been discovered in the forest during the night at the end of August/early September. Stiles, the Sheriff’s son intercept the message on his police scanner and decides to drag Scott, his best friend, deep into the woods to go and look for the body. It is made clear to the audience that listening devices are going to be important, so much so that one of the main character has one installed in his car.

After the search, and an altercation with the Sheriff’s department, Scott gets bitten. In the scene, we see him turning around because of the noises the wolf behind him is making. The scene is dark, and we hear more that we see the wolf attacking him. We hear his feral snarls, and Scott’s screams. And here starts what becomes a very TW characteristic : the presence of a wolf is mostly known because of their sounds. Whether it’s the growling, the running, or the noises that come along the reveal of their shifted form with the glistening of their eyes. It’s a very distinct sound, one that will be kept until the end of the show to signal to the audience of the changing into a wolf of one of the character, no matter their rank.

The police scanner has then been used multiple times, up until the end of the 5th season, when Stiles and Scott hear that a body had been found in the woods, again, the story going full circle when Stiles decided to leave Beacon Hills to start studying in the FBI’s training program. Of course, it wouldn’t be the last time we see Stiles, but it was pretty heart-warming to see that after they passed the torch to Liam and Mason, their story as teenagers was coming to an end.

As my mum would say : should you listen to your music so loudly?

I thought it was interesting how music was used in the series. Not the background musics, sadly I didn’t have the time to go too deep with the interpretation of why a certain song was being used in a specific scene, but rather, how music is being used in the series in regards to the character’s actions, and the sense of false security that comes along with it.

First, let’s talk about Kira. In her first scene interacting with the pack, she overhears a conversation between them; using it to approach them. Sounds here serve as an introduction to the pack for her, since she’s able to become part of it afterwards. The other interesting part is that through noises and sounds, she is able to get a few glimpses into Scott’s world without fully understanding it.

She’s actually the first character that made me realise the importance of music as a tool. In season 3, she comes close to death when William Barrow comes to the school and is ordered to kill her. She has no idea that a serial killer roams around the school and goes to the library after her classes end. When Stiles pulls the emergency alarm; a universal sounds that signifies danger when heard, to evacuate the school, she is unable to hear it due to the music in her headphones being so loud. When Coach finds her and makes her leave, Barrow is shown hiding behind the shelves next to her. If music seems to be a way for her to escape, it it used to trick her into a state of false security.

Then, it Liam’s turn. In s4, this newcomer is bitten by Scott in order to save his life. And soon enough, he begins to change into a werewolf. This is being shown to the audience through music. When being driven by Kira, the music playing in the background overwhelms him, making it as if it was being played at a loud volume, instead of the nice background noise it actually was. It’s a nice flashback to when Scott was still learning to get used to his heightens senses (more on that later). Teen wolf has a habits of making things go full circles and often uses sounds to translate this for the viewers. Even without outright saying it, we are able to reflect on what it can mean. And this sense of false security comes back too. Kira is here pretending to drive him to a party, when she is actually bringing him to the pack to help him control the shift.

Last, I’m going to talk about the bonfire, and how, once again, music was made to lure the wolves into a dangerous situation. In the bonfire scene, we are shown Liam and Malia getting drunk, something that we’ve been told was impossible due to their healing powers.

Scott ends up realising that the music playing for the crowd is being used to disable them to help the killer who came there to cross their names off the deadpool.

The makers of Teen wolf found a universal part of the life of teenagers, something that can help them go through difficult times and decided to use it against the characters, showing the audience that nothing is safe. They all have to figure out a way to navigate through this new life without the help of what was once a source of comfort, and so does the audience.

II. Wolves and vilains, how do they communicate ?

How the wolves use it

Not only are we, as spectator, made aware of their changing, but the wolves themselves gain something from being bitten. Their sense of sight, smell and hearing become heightened, to help them not only hunt, but protect themselves.

Scott is the first wolf we see who is learning how to control his senses. In the first season, Derek tries to teach Scott a way to control and survive the shift. It doesn’t go as easily as Derek hoped, and he has to resort to showing Scott what will happen if he doesn’t try harder. He helps him concentrate on the sounds of hunters approaching them one night, and makes him watch another wolf get killed. From this moment on, Scott is not only able to take this training more seriously, but also use his listening ability to protect himself.

Unfortunately, the hunters are aware of this characteristic and found a way to deprave them from it : they fabricated a device that emits a sound only wolves are able to hear and it was originally used to distract them and lead them to a trap. But as the seasons go by, Chris Argent (whose family is known for hunting werewolves) becomes an ally and helps regroup Boyd and Cora to the school using those emitters. The torture device becomes helping as the seasons progress, along with the relationship between the characters. The noises then become a tool.

Over the following seasons, Scott masters this ability, and is shown using it in a lot of different situations. It helps him when he needs to listen in to conversations in relations with a villain he’s chasing, or when it helps him get closer to Allison on her first day. Funny enough, it is also used to try to befriend Kira when she first arrives after he heard her talking to her father about her lack of friends.

Alphas and packs

Since the beginning of the show, it was showed that wolves can communicate differently. To signal their position, they can howl and while it might not mean anything to humans, other wolves/animals are able to understand it. It is also used to bring someone back from their headspace. Scott first uses it in the first season to bring the alpha to the school. Later, in season 3, when he and Lydia enter Stile’s mind, he howls on Lydia’s advice to help Stiles overcome the Nogistune’s power in his mind. Stiles being part of Scott’s pack is able to hear it and regains control of his mind despite being human. Over the course of the show, we see wolves of Scott packs using it with each other, but they’re not the only one.

In the first half on the 3rd season, we are introduced to the Alpha Deucalion. Leader of the pack Scott fights against, he uses his voice to force terror and submission to those around him. He shatters his glasses when he proclaims himself Destroyer of worlds and tries later on to force Scott to kill Jennifer, making Scott fall to his knees ; his wolf unable to resist the command of an Alpha.

Sounds in this case becomes a way to rally someone to a cause or a pack. But it is a very grounding sound, used to bring either peace of mind, or terror. The viewers are then able to choose a fighter.

III. What if we just talked ?

Phones, man’s greatest invention

Scott realises quickly that something’s happening to him when he hears Allison (on the other side of the school ground) saying to the mother on the phone that she forgot to bring a pen. It helps him get on her radar since he is able to give her one, making him the first person/student Allison talks to when she arrives in BH.

As the story goes on, I’ve always thought that Allison’s relationship with sounds was a pretty important on. As a foreshadow, she gets some mysterious voicemails of a man speaking Japanese when her phone is turned off the night Stiles goes missing in s3. It is revealed that the man is telling instruction to a group of prisoners in a Japanese camp named Oak Creek during WW2. It ends up being relevant, since Kira’s mother summoned the Nogitsune while being a prisoner in this camp. Sadly, it also happens to be the place where Allison is killed.

Still with the Argents, when Kate is brought back to life, Scott says that since he doesn’t have the money to call France where Chris is staying since his daughter’s death, he thought he could text him the bad news. Stiles tells him that it might not be such a good idea to announce something like that over a text. And with money being a big part of the 4th season, the foreshadowing is once again strong in this scene.

Then we have the case of Jennifer Blake, the English teacher/antagonist in s3a. We are first introduced to her through her voice. She sent a text to all of her students, quoting the end of a book they’re going to study, and she reads the last sentence out loud coming into the classroom. And if it can be shocking to see teachers texting their students, it is later used to set up a meeting between her, Derek, Scott and Deucalion. This time, instead of the tool bringing people closer, it is used to put a plan in motion, one that involves death and pain.

Words aren’t just words, they’re tools

I talked about a lot of sounds a wolf can make, but another important thing in a series are the words themselves, the dialogues. In this story, we are faced with a lot of teenagers, and it isn’t wrong to say that at 16/17, it is hard to voice everything that’s going on in the head of a teenager. Everyone relies on a different method, and it builds their characters. Where Scott can be a little shy, Stiles is the loud one. When Lydia is making sure nobody knows how high her grades are, her boyfriend Jackson likes to brag about his successes. We have a lot of paradoxes here, and there are a lot more comparison to do.

Spoken words are loud in this series. Stiles is the sarcastic one, using it to defend himself, and it is quite interesting that Lydia is doing the same thing with her screams. But sadly, the unspoken things are louder. They can break a family apart. Scott is once again a good example. After his drunk father came home after a night out drinking, his mother told him to get out. She then went to Noah Stilinski to talk about it. Stiles overheard everything but never said a word to Scott. But so did Scott’s mother who felt like Scott would resent her if she told him that she was the one how asked his father to leave. Secret are hard to keep and live with, and they gain so much power as time goes by. There is also something to be said about misunderstandings. In that case, Melissa admits to Scott’s father in the 3rd season that he misunderstood her words, saying that she wished that he would still be a part of their son’s life.

Then, we have Stiles trying to get the biggest secret of all off his chest and tell his dad about the supernatural at the hospital. His father has a very specific answer :« I’m listening, I've been listening ». Meaning that as much as he is used to his son antics, he doesn’t want to admit that he is telling the truth. He hears what his son is saying, but he doesn’t want to listen, despite what he’s saying. Listening and hearing are two very different things. Listening means taking into account the words that are being spoken. And when the things he hears go against everything he believed his entire life, and he can’t listen to it any longer. We then find out that he had a moment when his wife died and a young woman told him to go be with his wife, and he didn’t want to obey. As much as he tells himself that he doesn’t believe, he just doesn’t want to face the fact that he missed his wife’s last moments. And it is heartbreaking to see that he needs to be himself close to dying to admit that his son was right. Stiles’ words were true, and not just the rambling of a teenager. He finally listened, after days, even years of dismissing what he refused to believe.

But some words can help bring closure. It is always a regret people have when they can’t say goodbye to their loved ones. But Allison isn’t one of them. On the contrary, her last words are probably the most important ones of the series. Just before her final battle, she made a point of telling her dad that she loved him. She needed to voice it, making sure that no matter what happened, her words would always resonate in her father’s mind. Then, she tells Scott how he’ll always be her first love, and finishes by saying that she has to tell something to her dad. When Chris hears it, he first think of his last conversation with his daughter, but it turns out that Allison needed to tell him something else : she realised how to kill the Onis, and she wants to make sure the pack and her dad are able to use her arrow heads to defeat them. Allison was a powerful young woman, fierce and strong, and as much as she values her relationship with the people around her, she also made sure to voice what was important to her.

Spoken words are on of the most effective ways to bring a story to life, but not everyone is able to speak. The show doesn’t let it stop them, and it brings us to the next subject.

Different kinds of voices

Over the course of the series, we see the pack facing all kinds of villains. Some like to talk and be heard, like Kate, or Peter, but some others use another way to be understood and deeply feared.

Let’s start with the Mute. He is a man (?) without a mouth, a professional killer who decides to kill supernatural beings from the deadpool. He uses a wrist keyboard with a computer generated voice to communicate with his victims. And the fact that he can’t talk but still has a voice coming out of him makes for a great villain, but a scary one at the same time. Because he only uses his voice to invoke fear ; with Sean Walcott to tell him that he killed his family and will kill him too, and with Peter when he tells him that Derek will be the next to die. The sounds coming from him are haunting, and likely resonate in the head of the people lucky enough to survive him.

The Anuk-Ite, who doesn’t use his own voice, found a way to inflict fear as well, with a difference: he uses other’s people voice to make his victims suffer. In the series finale, he uses the pack’s weaknesses’s voices against them to make them open their eyes and freeze them. Most of them give in and open their eyes, but Scott finds a way to go around it. If the Anuk-Ite uses voices, he will use his eyes. And it is such a great power move, because it shows us that while powerful enough to create illusion of the pack’s loved ones or fears, Scott decided to exploit the villain’s weakness against him.

Then we have the Oni, the « Japanese ninjas » from season 3. They don’t need a voice to be feared. The sound effects used to signal their presence is the only thing we need; a weird sound that comes out every time they appear, making the viewers and the character scared for what’s about to happen. And we have to recognise the talent of the people behind those sound effects, because without them, we would need words, and threats from the villains. But given that the only introduction they need is this sound, the scenes come across perfectly. And, except the few information given by Katashi, we don’t need anything else to understand that anyone standing in their way will be killed. Similar to them, are the Rider’s in the 6th season. They are some of the biggest villains the pack has faced, erasing dozens of people from existence without uttering a single word.

Finally, we have one of the most human killers of the show ; Brunski, the Head Orderly at Eichen House. He was a serial killer who killed patients because he believed he was helping them with their pain and recorded it on a tape recorder to listen to it later. In the fourth season, we found out that he murdered Lydia’s grandmother and uses this to torture her by made her and Stiles listen to the young woman's grandmother pleading for her life. And it must have been excruciating for Lydia to know that the last thing she will ever hear of her grandmother was her last moment alive. Once again, sounds and voices are being used against Lydia to torture her further, showing us that this human serial killer doesn’t need any super power to be heard and have his voice used to kill. Worst than this, his use of sounds is so disturbing. He finds happiness in listening to his victims suffer, going even further by recording it to relieve it all over again. He uses the last defences his patients have against them, even beyond their death.

Now that we saw the importance of sounds coming from humans and wolves alike, let’s see who else needs more than words to express themselves.

IV : The new world within the new world

Lydia and other Banshees

When we first meet Lydia, she is as far from the supernatural as one can be. But as time progresses, she encounters Peter who bites her and turns her into… Well something. She starts by following blindly his orders in season 2, but the real progress happens in season 3. Being held captive by Jennifer Blake, she ends up screaming, signalling every supernatural creatures around that something is happening to her. In the previous season, her screams were made to believe she was just screaming out of fear, as humans sometimes do when faced with a gigantic black form sprinting out of a store window. Blake then realises that she’s a Banshee ; the wailing woman, shading lights on so many events in the seasons : why she ended up finding a lot of the bodies in the beginning of the season, or why she would end up at certain key locations. But once again, the makers of the show decided to use sounds to express not only how she felt, but what it meant.

After she sees Peter talking to her mother about hearing, she decides to go to him to learn more about her power. He tells her that the screams don’t give her her powers. They help her calm down enough to quiet her mind. That explains how she was able to find out what was hidden in Talia Hale’s claws ; she screamed and threw them at the wall, allowing her to understand the voices inside it. That’s also how she was able to understand that the flies she was hearing in the William Barrow episodes were actually electricity, which helped the pack realise that Kira was being held at the power plant. After spending an entire day thinking there were flies around her, she finally screamed when Stiles told her to. Lydia has a special relationship with sounds, but they are sadly too overwhelming at first, thus stopping her to understand what’s going on.

During this time, a possessed version of Stiles was taking some medical tests in an MRI machine. Lydia, being so scared for his friend, spent the entire day being hyper sensitive to sounds. She was hearing lockers and doors closing at a higher rate and heard the sound of the machine loud and clear, as if she was the one inside it. She tried to put the music louder but the sounds were all she could hear, and she finally screamed. But no sound were heard in the scene. We only saw her despair and fear. She wasn’t screaming as a Banshee, but as someone who didn’t want her friend to die. The torture wasn’t over though, because Void Stiles took her in Oak Creek and there, she was able to hear every single person who died during the riot. She appears in total distress, not being able to shut her mind from all the pain that roamed around the corridor. The saddest moment however came when Allison was killed. Not being able to stop herself, or help a passed out Stiles, she just screams for the life of her best friend, and it no doubt will be added to cries of the other victims of this place.

Next comes the study in the Lake House. During the party in season 4, she realises that once the door was closed, no noise was able to come through. And as hard as it to make a scene with the proper music and sounds, it is even harder to do when there aren’t any sounds. Here we see how important the absence of noise is. And it becomes so much more relevant when we learn that her grandmother was also a Banshee who was able to predict one death because she heard rain when it wasn’t raining outside. Sadly, it didn’t help, since her girlfriend ended up dying, not able to understand where this warning was coming from. Her grandmother then decided to look for other people like her and here came Meredith. This young woman wasn’t able to understand the voices in her head. The Lake House served as some kind of experiment for her, and here, the sounds are used to show how mad they drove her. If Lydia was able to understand more of her family’s heritage and her power, Meredith bled from her ears in this room. Once again, foreshadowed when the wine bottle breaks on the ground, spreading red everywhere.

As for Meredith, she goes through some rough times during the end of the season when we discover that she was the one who created the deadpool in response of Peter’s thoughts that she was able to hear when he was in a coma after the fire. He kept going on and on about how there should be a list of supernatural people, and that professional killers should be the first one to cross names off that list. Lydia explained that for Meredith, all the time he spent in a coma, it was like she was only hearing his thoughts, like a radio. And so the deadpool was born. And once again, the study in the Lake House was a crucial part of the story since it was there that the deadpool was able to be active, and ended up being destroyed. When the truth comes out, Lydia is the only one able to understand Meredith. And it prompted the saying « Not all monsters do monstrous things ». Lydia is finally able to understand the world around her and herself, recognising that sounds and screams can be used for the greater good.

And it is also Meredith who ends up teaching a lot to Lydia, showing her that her screams can be as powerful as a bullet. From then on, Lydia is able to save Stiles from the Hunt-version of his mother in season 6 for example, help him break free of his imprisonment of the Hunt, or break Mason from The Beast’s possession in season 5. Her screams no longer come from a place of fear, but power.

But it also shows us something important : when the pack was trying to destroy the Beast of Gevaudan, Lydia is attacked by Sebastian Valet and, when she attacked him, he clawed at her throat, making her unable to use her voice, making her powerless. Over time, her screams became a defense, something that she was able to channel to protect herself. And the inability to produce them showed us once again that while it is hard to voice our thoughts and make sense of things while talking, it is even harder to deal with them without the ability to be loud or even just heard.

Eichen House & Echo House

We are first introduced to this place in season 3 when Stiles believes he is trapped there by the Nogistune. He finally decides a few episodes later to stay there to ensure the safety of the pack. And from the moment he walks in, we are surrounded creepy music. The woman tells Stiles that he won’t have any spoken contacts with the outside world for 72 hours, making sure that the isolation is complete. It also means that he won’t be able to be reassured by his loved ones. And as soon as the Sheriff begins to doubt his decision to leave Stiles there, he hears sounds louder, like Lydia earlier ; doors closing, buzzing sounds like in a prison when a cell opens and closes, etc… His mind is unable to concentrate on anything else but the sounds telling him that his son isn’t safe there. And as soon as he leaves, we have proof of that : a man hangs himself from the stairs. Right before that happens, we hear him talking, without anybody paying attention to him, even when Stiles points it out to the nurse. And when he voices his need to talk to someone outside, his request is denied. In this place, there are so many voices and levels of insanity that the few clear sentences that come out of the patients’ mouth are taken as white noise.

Stiles' roommate Oliver then tells him that he is aware of the suicide without having to leave his bed. The other name for this institution is Echo House, because according to him, everything echos there. Which means that the pain and suffering that one patient can experience is voiced and shared with all the other patients. Voices here are a sign of insanity and unsafe environment.

Sadly, all of this was perceived by Lydia earlier in the season. When Stiles went missing, she went to his room to find an intricate bundle of rope all over his bed. When Aiden pinched a string, Lydia heard voices telling her that Stiles was trapped in Eichen house.

The story then comes full circle with Lydia being a patient at Eichen House in the 5th season where she learns all about the strength of her powers. As patients are often physically restricted or tied to their beds, it is significant that Lydia was able to finally scream out her pain. So loud in fact, that she was able to break windows and free herself.

_____________________________________________________________

In the eighth episode of season 6, Blitzkrieg, Noah Stilinski says that they are gathered together (minus Stiles) because his « goofball son » decided to drag his greatest friend in the world out in the wood to see a dead body a few years ago. And this call was the beginning of everything. If Stiles hadn’t been listening, he wouldn’t have led Scott outside, Scott wouldn’t have been bitten, and none of this would have happened. And that’s the most important thing in this show. Without sounds, there wouldn’t be any kind of story.

Rare are the shows and movies who are able to make a complete work without any sounds, or spoken words. But as astonishing as those body of work are, it makes even more important the ones that feature sounds as a tool. Because that’s what they are, in the end. Tools to move a story, tools to understand the characters. Show runners talk through their characters, bring life to words that only existed in their minds. Some put more thoughts into it than others, but I think that we can learn a lot from the person behind a show if we listen closely to the sounds they choose to include in a story. Each character is a representation of a specific idea, and each one of their words represents an important notion a show runner wants the audience to grasp. Are we all willing to listen, though?

[krystal-sylph]

Marble Hornets - Hoody x Reader

So yes, I saw another author do something similar to this in their book on Quotev, and I liked the idea so I thought I'd try it out. This isn't canon whatsoever, it barely has anything to do with the actual story considering it takes place after Entry #87, and everyone is either already dead or gone. It's basically a 'what if' scenario that makes almost zero sense if you look at it from the eye of a critic. Don't judge too harshly! I made it when I was bored and in need of inspiration considering it's been weeks since I last updated this book. I'll give you more details about what I was thinking during this one-shot down at the bottom of the page.

Warnings: Mentions of death

You were walking steadily through the dead trees of what you assumed to be Rosswood Park, completely lost but also not really trying to find your way out. Why would you? You had nothing to go back to. All of your friends were either dead or missing, and your family... well, let's just say your family didn't exactly want you with them, which is why you stuck so closely to Jay, and Tim, and the others. But now you had nobody to stick close to. They were all gone.

The last thing you remembered was helping Tim fight off Alex in the old high school, then when Alex had been killed, you passed out and somehow woke up in Rosswood. More whacky teleportation, probably. Either that or you were sleep-walking, which wouldn't really surprise you considering everything you've done the past few years. 

You also managed to unmask that hooded figure and were more than astonished when you saw Brian, your boyfriend that had gone missing all the way back in 2009 and was the whole reason you got involved with Jay and this mystery in the first place. You weren't sure how to react, you felt a rush of relief, shock, and anger all at the same time. He wouldn't wake up, of course he wouldn't. He had just fallen from a fifteen-foot window and landed on concrete. He was dead, and you knew that, but a part of you didn't want to accept it.

You hadn't got a lot of time to try and get him medical attention, for the Operator once again showed up and ran you and Tim off, then Alex got in the way, and well, here you were. Thankfully, you had woken up with your phone, but it was quickly losing battery so you tried calling Tim one, two, three, four times. He never answered, which lead you to believe that he, too, was gone. That left you all alone, stranded in the woods, with no one to turn to. Nobody to live for.

It felt bad enough not knowing where Brian had been all of this time, and you started believing that he was actually dead, no matter how much you denied it. But then finding out that he had been alive through the whole thing, and was watching you, well aware of how frantic you were over his disappearance, and had plenty of chances to reveal himself to you but never did? It hurt. And it made you mad. How could he do such a thing? It felt like the ultimate betrayal, and it really was in a way. If he was trying to protect you he was doing a poor job of it. 

But now he was gone, and for good. You saw proof. You saw his motionless body more than once, and it made you want to rip your heart out of your chest and throw it to the floor. And you would have, had he not already done it for you. Losing him not once, but twice? You were already experiencing the pain from Jay's death, but discovering that your boyfriend had also died? Indescribable grief is what you felt. Your heart ached, your mind throbbed, the tears wouldn't even come to your eyes anymore. You had cried them all out. 

You truly had nobody. Your feet scraped across the dirt and pebbles beneath as you continued wandering aimlessly through the forest. Where were you going? You couldn't even bring yourself to care. Your stomach rumbled, your throat was dry from dehydration. How long had you even been out here? At least two days. It was cool out, but not dreadfully so, being only June. The oversized hoodie Brian had let you have prior to all of this chaos was keeping you plenty warm, however, it only made you even more depressed. This was the last thing that was left of him. You would die in it for all you cared because you sure wouldn't be taking it off.

If you got close enough, you could still smell his scent, if only faintly. It brought you a sense of dread, but hopeless joy as well. You couldn't quite explain it. The Operator, or whatever that thing was, hadn't messed with you at all. Why? Who knew. Maybe it moved on to someone weaker to pursue, seeing as how its original victims were long gone. Or maybe it just slunk back into its weird underworld, its Own Zone, or whatever. Just as long as it left you the heck alone. You were not in the mood to be played with. After all, it was the cause of all of this. It's the reason your boyfriend was dead, the reason Alex went crazy, the reason everyone was so unstable. The reason that everyone you ever loved, who ever loved you, was gone. 

It was extremely difficult to process. How could any of this have happened? You were just a normal girl with a normal life, with normal friends, with a normal boyfriend. At least, most of your friends were normal. Turns out Tim was the one that it attached itself to first. He was patient zero, in a way, but you stopped blaming him long ago. It wasn't his fault. Yes, he should have told you and Jay sooner, but what would be the point in being angry at him now? He was inevitably deceased, too. 

You missed Jay, Tim, even Alex, as much of a jerk as he had been. You missed your other friends, but most of all you missed Brian. He was the one that had been with you when personal problems wouldn't stop messing up your life, he was the one that stuck by your side the whole time. He had been the epitome of a loyal and perfect boyfriend, and to find out he had kept the fact that he was stalking you and Jay for who-knows how long a total secret? It was disappointing. But what were you going to do, now? He was gone, it didn't even matter, anymore.

You kept your gaze trailed on the ground as you took weak steps through the trees, stuffing your hands into the pocket of the hoodie and not thinking about anything in particular. There was no doubt in your mind that Brian had been trying to do what he thought was best for you, as he likely thought that revealing himself after so long would put you in danger. But you were already in danger. Maybe he was afraid of what your reaction would be. Good, he should've been, because you would have been furious. You still were furious. You trusted him. You spent five years looking for him, worried sick about him, and he was watching you the whole time? Watching you suffer? Not doing anything about it?

Sure, Totheark was one thing, as he made it abundantly clear that he was trying to point you and Jay in the right direction several times, along with the masked figure, who was Tim, and another unknown person who had never been revealed, but it had also seemed like he was taunting you sometimes. Had he really changed that much? Did he just not care? You know that you had changed in major ways since the investigation started, but you had never stopped caring about your friends. About Brian. In fact, your love for them is what spurred you on. It was the only reason you got involved, to start with. Because you wanted them to be safe. You wanted him to be safe. 

And he practically just spat all of your hard work back in your face. Understandably, you were vexed, but the sorrow topped the anger. It didn't matter if you kicked a tree. It didn't matter if you screamed. It didn't matter if you cursed your screwed-up life, cried about your losses, or just downright died because of it all. Everyone you loved had been taken from you. Why were you the one survivor? Why couldn't it have been someone stronger, someone who deserved it? Someone like Jay? You had been briefly acquainted with him thanks to him knowing Alex, but when all of this chaos took place, the two of you got exceedingly closer.

You had been there for each other, through all of it. He was probably the one person you trusted most in this world because even though he was stressed, likely more than you were, he never lost that aspect that made him, well, him. He never let the Operator get into his head to the point of it changing who he was. Sure, the past few months he had been easily irritable, but you were, too. And the both of you had become pretty paranoid, but who wouldn't in that situation? The point is, you two stuck together. That's what got you through everything, your friendship. He was the only one you could truly count on.

And what happened to him? He was brutally ripped from your life, all thanks to Alex. All thanks to the Operator. And you didn't even get to say goodbye. He was just gone, and right behind him was Brian, then Alex, and now Tim. Every single person whom you ever cared for, now dead. Never to be seen, again. You had nobody else to try and protect, nothing else to do. You didn't have another reason to continue fighting. You didn't even want to find the way out of this park. You had nowhere to go that wouldn't bring back loads of painful memories. 

So you figured, you would wander around until you eventually just dropped dead. Is it possible to die from mental agony alone? If so, that would surely be what took you out, if lack of water and food didn't do it first. A gust of cool breeze swept through your tangled hair and, for a moment, you felt more human. It merely lasted a moment, but it still felt nice. What drew your attention was a sudden snap of a twig, and you jerked your head to the side, a bit startled by the noise. You saw nothing hiding behind the trees, then again it wouldn't be the first time you failed to see when somebody was watching you. But all of those people are gone, at least the ones you knew about. 

So what if you were being recorded right now? It wouldn't surprise you. You didn't even care. You just wanted the pain to stop. Besides, it was probably only a squirrel or some other harmless woodland creature minding its own business. No need to worry about it. A disconsolate sigh escaped from between your lips and your gaze once again averted down, eyelids beginning to feel heavy. When was the last time you actually had a solid night's sleep? How long had it been since you weren't plagued with terrible nightmares, or an ever-present fear of being killed, or endless worrying about your missing friends?

It had to have been in 2010, right? That was when everything began getting more complicated than you could have ever imagined. If you had a second chance, would you have just brushed Brian's disappearance aside and gone on with your life as if nothing had ever happened? Would you have been able to ignore it all and avoid the inevitable trouble you'd get into? The answer you came to is no, probably not. Brian meant too much to you. There would be no way to simply move on without digging at least a little in an effort to get to the bottom of what happened. 

Your head snapped up again when you heard yet another sound, this time it seemed as if a small rock had been crushed farther into the dirt, and right in front of you. What you saw made you gasp and stumble back from surprise alone, your foot catching on a root and making you fall on your back. You gaped up at the figure standing only three feet away from you, trying to comprehend how exactly this could have been possible. It isn't possible. Right? No. No, it isn't. So how was it happening?

He tilted his head to the side slightly, as if confused why you were reacting the way you were. Oh, gee, I wonder. It isn't exactly normal to see somebody who died standing directly in front of a person. You didn't speak, not for a few minutes, anyway, and neither did he. The nerve. You'd think he'd at least have the decency to say, "hi, I've risen from the grave, wanna go get a coffee?". 

But nope. Not a word. Your eyebrows furrowed as you finally came to a reasonable and most likely conclusion. It was a hallucination. He was a hallucination. A mere image your mind created to deal with your grief. What else would it be? Real? Absolutely not. There was no way, it was only your imagination playing cruel tricks on you. "Go away," you muttered, voice scratchy due to not speaking nor having anything to drink. He didn't listen, he only continued to stare down at you, though you couldn't sense any type of malice, irritation, or even sympathy emanate from off of him. In fact, he seemed almost... curious. 

You sent him a glare, trying to keep your composure and act as if seeing him didn't make you want to break down into tears for the hundredth time and wish that he was still here with you. But he wasn't, this was only your mind playing games with you. And you were sick of it already. 

"I said, go away." Slowly, you pushed yourself to your feet, not taking your eyes off of the hooded man in front of you, and when he still wouldn't listen, you hardened your voice. "I don't need you here." He waited a moment before taking a step forward, indicating he still refused to get out of your head. What could you have done in this situation? It isn't easy escaping your memories, even though the only thing you wanted to do was escape them. This one, in particular. 

His hands were dangling by his sides casually and his ski mask did everything to conceal his face and any emotion that may have been in it, which was the point of it, you supposed. And you were inwardly thanking your mind for coming up with an image of what Jay's followers on Twitter dubbed 'Hoody', instead of what you absolutely did not want to see, which was Brian. Not the hooded figure, just Brian. Your boyfriend. Or late boyfriend, now. 

You let out a resentful growl, scooped up a small rock from the ground, and lobbed it at the hallucination, hoping that once it went through him that he would disappear and leave you alone. This was too much to take for your vulnerable, broken state right now, and you just wanted it to stop. However, something happened that you most certainly did not expect. The rock, instead of flying right through him as it should have, hit him below the shoulder with a soft thud before bouncing off and landing on the dirt, once again. 

Not only did it hit him as if he were an actual, physical being, but he flinched back at the sharp impact and craned his neck down to look at the rock that had just been thrown at him, then focused his vision back on you, the girl standing with wide eyes and a confused expression clear on her features as her body went rigid. What was that? Plainly, you were losing your marbles in more ways than one. Hallucinations aren't real things, they're in the mind and in the mind only. So how did he, a hallucination, block the path of a rock, a very real, very concrete item, to the point it couldn't only be heard when it hit him, but it bounced off of him?

Still, he didn't say anything, and the silence around you, save for the tweets of birds and rustling of leaves, nearly made you crazy. Why were you doing this to yourself? Surely you had suffered enough, already. Why couldn't he just go away? You clenched your fists, in anger or as a way to gather your bearings, you weren't sure, and bit the inside of your cheek. What were you supposed to say? This couldn't be real; Brian was dead. It would be impossible for him to be here with you. Unless there was somebody pranking you to get some kind of reaction out of you. That would be the only logical explanation. 

"This isn't funny," you snapped, shooting daggers at the person still ahead of you. "Get out of here before I make you." With that, you stomped around him, making sure to keep your distance as you continued on your way, trying to forget about him. You shook your head in disbelief. How dare somebody play with your emotions like that. But how would anybody know where you were? How would somebody get an outfit exactly like Br... like him? Unless they stole it off of his dead corpse, which is a thought you really didn't want to consider too much. 

Who would ever prank you in such a way? Who would find you all the way out here? You couldn't be tracked—your phone had died after the first couple of hours you had been out here, and even so, you had ended up throwing it into the brush of the woods miles back. You figured that you'd never need to use it, again, since you planned on just dying deep in the forest soon. And they couldn't have followed you, not for so long without you noticing. The more you thought about it, the more it just didn't make sense. Everyone that had been keeping tabs on your and Jay's story likely thought you were already dead, so it couldn't have been one of them.

Your train of thoughts was derailed when you heard, what sounded like a leaf crunching behind you, and hesitantly looked back, seeing just what you expected to find; the same hooded figure, tailing you, though not to the point of it invading personal space. You didn't care though. It was disconcerting, especially since you had just disproved your theory about it being a prankster. This wasn't a prank, everyone who knew about you was dead. That should have included Brian, and you thought it did. Could you have been wrong...?

No. No, he was dead. So maybe it was just an extremely vivid hallucination after all? Then how did a rock bounce off of him? Could you have imagined the rock? No, the rock was real. He was not. It was beginning to get darker, you could tell by the way the sun fell past the trees and the sky faded into a deeper shade of blue. The cicadas began to chirp persistently, and in only a few minutes your eyes would once again have to get adjusted to the change in lighting.

Exasperation grew within your chest, as well as a flaming desire to get rid of him, and you spun fully around until you were looking directly below the red eyes that were painted onto his mask, where you assumed his actual eyes to be. An indignant huff left your mouth and you took a step forward, fixating on him with a threatening scowl and talking between your teeth. 

"Go away." Your tone left no room for argument as the sentence slowly came out, but still, he stood there. Not a word came from behind the mask, he just stayed still. Staring at you. A move that finally made all of your anger rise to the surface, and you didn't even try to contain it. You just wanted him gone. "Leave. Me. Alone!" 

In one quick movement, you took another step forward, stretched your arms out, and with all the force you could muster up, pushed him backward. It must have taken him off-guard because he did nothing to stop you, nor could he catch his balance before he tumbled to the ground with a thump. You sucked in a sharp breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You didn't expect to touch him. You didn't think there was anything to touch. But you could feel him, and clearly, he felt you, too. You blinked down at him with puzzlement, unable to fight the tears any longer.

You couldn't handle this. It was too much, it was just too much. You only managed to take two steps back before your legs became jelly and collapsed beneath you, sending you falling to the ground on your knees. You didn't mind it, not right now. You just had to compose yourself enough to get away. But something in your mind told you that wouldn't be very easy. 

You allowed your hair to fall in front of your face as you tilted your head toward the ground below your trembling frame, screwing your eyes shut in an effort to stop the constant flow of tears from cascading down your cheeks. That's odd, you were sure that there were no more tears left to cry. Perhaps your body was saving them for this moment because it knew that it was going to torment you even moreso than it had, already. When would it all end? Until you died, probably. Quiet whimpers exited your mouth, you didn't bother trying to stop them. There wouldn't be a point. You were alone, anyway, no matter how much your mind wanted to convince you otherwise.

"Please go away..." The sentence came out as no more than a pained whisper as you hugged yourself, trying to come to terms with everything. It was bad enough that he died right in front of your very eyes, but now your mind was taunting you by making you think he was actually here? You could hear the faint sound of pebbles being displaced as if someone was drawing closer, and sniffed. "I love you too much. I miss you too much. Please, just... just leave me alone." Your voice cracked, though it wasn't extremely noticeable thanks to how low it became. 

After a minute, you thought that your ears picked up muffled, gentle breathing, and you knew for a fact it wasn't you. Finally opening your eyes, you slowly leaned your head up, a bit surprised to see him not only in front of you but on his knees looking at you through his black and red mask. He was mere inches away from you now, and you weren't sure what to do. He obviously wasn't going to leave. Your mind wouldn't give you a break. Or was this really just your mind? Of course, there was no other reason. Brian wasn't here. Brian was dead. Even if it was him, he would have said something to you. Well, at least your Brian would have. 

You weren't really sure what the new Brian would have done. After all, he went years without letting you know that he was so much as alive rather than dead like you presumed but didn't want to believe, and instead stalked you and your best friend, threatened you, taunted you, and lead you on wild goose chase after wild goose chase. It was unknown if the 'new' Brian would have even alerted you of his presence like this one. Probably not. He would have just recorded you from behind a tree, stay far out of your sight, and then used the footage to send some type of cryptic message in binary through Youtube that would take you and Jay hours on end to solve. 

But this one, he wasn't acting nice enough to be your Brian, nor was he being mysterious enough to be Totheark Brian. He seemed almost... vague. Confused, curious. And it greatly addled you. If it somehow was Brian... why would he be acting so strangely? Who knew. Being pushed from a window would have its effects on a person, you supposed. But how would he have been here with you? He died. He wasn't breathing, his heart wasn't beating. You saw it. So what were you seeing now?

Reaching up slightly, you put your hand on the top of his knee, your breaths turning shaky. You could still feel him. You could touch him. You can't touch hallucinations, right? Leisurely, your fingers moved up to his hands that were placed on his thighs in a relaxed manner and grabbed one cautiously. You squeezed it, and it took a moment, but he squeezed back. As if following your lead. It was warm, and you could feel skin and bone beneath the glove he wore over it. Hallucinations aren't warm. 

You scooted just a little closer and put both hands on his chest, giving it a light, effortless push to see if he reacted. He tipped back briefly before stiffening, posture becoming more solid. Your touch traveled up to his shoulders as you scooted even closer, tears glistening in your eyes as your intent gaze went up to his masked face. Would he let you remove his mask? It was the only way to tell for sure if he was actually Brian, or if he was just an imposter. You were afraid of either possibility. 

There was hardly any doubt that this was an actual, physical person in front of you. The question was, is it the person you thought it may have been? Did you even want it to be him? You didn't even know what you wanted. You paused your movements before feeling faintly around his throat for the hem of the mask, thankful when you found it without much trouble and began sliding it upward. 

Only then did his hand come up and wrap around your wrist, firmly but softly, and you flinched a little from the sudden action. You knew what he was saying. 'Don't'. "Please," you started in a tone so quiet that nobody could hear it unless they were right beside you. "I...I need to know." It took around thirty seconds until he finally let go, albeit slowly, and brought his hand to rest in his lap, once more, giving you complete access.

You gulped and pulled the mask off, eyes widening when you saw the sight that awaited you. It was him. It was Brian. His hair was quite a bit longer than it was the last time you had seen it, and now messy, too, his eyes were still that deep shade of brown that you fell in love with, and his lips were set in a mellow frown. He looked almost exactly like you remembered him. But something was... different. Maybe it was the paleness of his skin or the confused, unfamiliar look in his eyes, but something wasn't right.

He stared back at you, eyebrows slightly furrowed in what you recognized as perplexity. You ran your finger along his cheek, his lips, through his hair, as if to make sure he was real. This shouldn't have been possible. He died. How would he have been reincarnated? Without you knowing about it, especially? All of these questions and more flew by in your mind, but each one was only there for a couple of seconds before the next one appeared. You couldn't process any of them right now. You were too focused on the man sitting here, right in front of you, in arms' reach. 

You dropped his mask to the side, eyes collecting even more tears as you parted your lips in utter disbelief. "Brian..." Saying his name seemed to spark some sort of recognition within him because he tilted his head and brought his own hand up, wiping away a droplet that was slipping down your cheek and almost studying you with curiosity present in his brown orbs. This made your heart clench. What on earth was happening? All of your friends were dead. What was this one doing coming back?

You couldn't stop the weak, pathetic whimper that left your mouth as your heart rate increased, unable to fully comprehend the unspoken information that had delivered itself to you. The only thing you could think about doing was bringing him close and refusing to let go, which you did. Your arms wrapped so tightly around his neck that it's a wonder you didn't break bones, and your head leaned against the side of his own, letting out heartbroken sobs that you didn't even know existed, anymore. 

It didn't take long before you felt his arms snake around your torso, pulling you closer to him as well and enveloping you in a hug that was an odd mix of comfort and confusion. You didn't care, though. All you wanted was to stay in your boyfriend's, who was presumed dead, embrace, and never let go. You didn't need to know the answers, not right then. You had gone five whole years without his touch, his voice, his presence, and you weren't going to waste this chance on searching for an explanation. You just wanted him. You needed him. You got the faint feeling that he needed you, too, whether he realized it, or not.

__________

So... yes. I liked the idea and wanted to write it, mainly because I think the whole 'Hoody tilting his head in confusion' thing is really cute xD Don’t say anything, you know you do, too. 

Anyway, what I was thinking is that basically... Brian did die but he somehow came back to life after the events in Entry #87 but nobody knew it. It's Brian that came back to life, but he's kinda different? He had his memory almost completely wiped and can't really talk because he's dead. He's a physical being, but he's like a ghost? It doesn't make a whole lotta sense, lol. He remembers very significant people that were in his life, in a way that he feels connected to them and has an instinct to protect them, but he doesn't remember them as we would think. 

Is that like, way too confusing? I'm sorry, it's not a thoroughly-planned idea, in fact it's very vague. I just love Brian so much and it absolutely killed me when he died in Entry #83, so I wanted to bring him back! Even if it's for unexplained reasons. Heck, I don't even know how he came back. Vengeful spirit? Pure magic? Extreme love for his girlfriend that refused to let him rest in peace without knowing she's safe? I think I like that the best.

Also, I was sneaky and put a little reference from Joseph DeLage's live stream on Marble Hornets in the one-shot so let me know if you found it! 

I’m well aware that my first real post on this account is about Hoody, and I could give less of a shit if I’m being honest. Brian is baby and I have an obsession with him that may or may not make me dream strange things about him. But don’t we all? I mean, who couldn’t absolutely fall in love with his smile? Or his laugh? Or his voice, or his eyes, or his face, or just every-freaking-thing about him? 

Also this one-shot is crap but I am currently running off of about four hours of sleep and have been for the past two days so my writing isn’t exactly polished and reward-worthy content.

But yes! Hoody x Reader, there it is. Hope it wasn’t too cringy.

[crystalstar8]

Knights of the Night (ch 11)

Chapter 11

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 2,054

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j  @daechwitad-2​ @zobadak​​

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing…

tw: France, attempted murder, death, it’s a vampire story so...

               When Catalina and Jungkook came back to the rooms wrapped in towels, hand in hand, everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and stared.

               “Did you guys fuck in the hot tub?” Jimin asked, breaking the silence.

               “Jungkook! That is irresponsible and inappropriate!” Jin screeched.

               “We didn’t fuck in the hot tub!” Catalina yelled over the chaos, trying and failing to contain her laughter. “Everyone calm down.”

               “We were just about to do some slumber party activities,” said Taehyung. “I got us some popcorn from downstairs and I heard of a game called spin the bottle-“

               “Or we can just talk,” said Jimin. “I want to hear about you guys, since you’re immortal and all.”

               “And we can braid hair,” said Taehyung. Jimin giggled.

               “Well, we’re gonna go change first, then we can do whatever you want,” said Catalina.

               After changing into some warm clothes, everyone gathered into the room with the largest floor space and sat around wherever they could. Catalina was sat on the ground in front of Taehyung, who was braiding her hair. Jungkook sat beside her, close enough for their arms to brush every time they moved.

               “So, what happened out there?” asked Jimin. “Give us the deets. I know I said not to go find him, but it looks like it went well.”

               “It did go well,” said Catalina. “We made up.”

               “And made out,” said Jungkook. Catalina elbowed him, but he just laughed.

               “Yeah, we…” Catalina felt breathless again as she looked over at the boy making her heart flutter. “Yeah.”

               “I mean, I don’t think we need the deets,” said Jin.

               “Yeah, I’m more interested in you guys,” said Jimmy K, pointing to the four vampires. “You guys have been around a while. You must have plenty of stories.”

               “Sure! What do you wanna know?” Hoseok said with a shit eating grin on his face, leaning back on his hands. Namjoon, who was sitting beside him, swatted at him.

               “Oh please,” he said. “You’re practically a baby.”              

               “He’s right,” said Hoseok. “I was born in 1973. Turned in ��95. I’m still not used to the whole ‘no aging’ thing. Definitely not used to living with people who are literally hundreds of years old. That’s a trip.”

               “How did you get turned into a vampire?” Catalina asked him.

Hoseok completely ignored her, turning to Namjoon and saying, “Yeah, tell us your story.”

               “I-she…” Namjoon stuttered, pointing at Catalina. Then he sighed and said, “Well, I was turned when I was twenty-three. The year was 1580. I guess I should give some history. So, during those times, there was a lot happening in Europe to the vampire community, specifically in France. This was called The Great Hunt, but it definitely wasn’t great for a lot of people. The vampires living there at the time were being relentlessly hunted and killed, rounded up and tortured. It was a massacre, and it led to a lot of vampires leaving the country and travelling the world to get away from it. That’s how I met Pierre. He escaped the hunt and fled, ending up all the way in northern Korea. I lived in a seaside village, mostly working on the water. One day, I ended up in a swampy area of the shoreline and my boat got stuck. Then this ghostly man came out of the water and sat on a rock. I had never seen anyone like him in my life; he was unnaturally beautiful and pale. I ditched my boat and swam to him, I couldn’t even control myself. We talked for a while and he told me about where he came from and then he bit me. He was going to drain me if it weren’t for the search party arriving, looking for me. He ran away and my fellow fisherman took me back to the village. I was half dead, but his venom was already doing its work. The transformation was excruciating. It felt like my veins were on fire, my head felt like it was going to explode, my jaw ached like someone was prying my mouth open, and it went on like this for days. Finally, when it stopped and the pain went away, I had this uncontrollable thirst. I could hear people’s hearts beating. I could taste their heat, just by being near them. I ended up killing three people in my village before I was captured. They were going to behead me, but I was stronger and faster now, so I got away easily.

                “I was on the run for so long, but eventually, I made it out of the country. I ended up in Bangladesh-“

               “How?!” Jin interrupted. “That’s…that’s all the way across China!”

               Namjoon shrugged and said, “I was fast and I never got tired. I was able to feed off of people along the way, as long as I kept moving. Anyway, I ended up by the ocean, the Indian ocean, and I met another vampire there. She worked on a ship and offered me a job. She turned out to be a pirate, and the crew was a mix of vampires and humans, all working together. We sailed the sea, taking ships and feeding from their crews. It was dirty, living like that. And it wasn’t how I wanted to live my life, so I left them and lived in India for a few years. Then one day, I took a boat to America and built my house in the mountains, using the riches I had from my pirate years. From there, I spent my days studying and getting degrees, learning as much as I can about everything.”

               “That’s incredible,” said Catalina.

               “So cool. I can’t believe you were a pirate,” said Jungkook. “You just don’t seem like the type.”

               “It was mostly about the community,” said Namjoon. “A lot of vampires were drawn to piracy during those times because they felt safe together. We couldn’t engage in regular society because the French were still hunting us across Europe and even into India for a while. But on the water, no one could touch us. But you’re right, I wasn’t the type. I didn’t like the bloodshed and pillaging and the dirty lifestyle, so I left as soon as I felt it was safe to live in society again, which was right around the time the Renaissance period began.”

               “That’s when I met Adrianna,” Taehyung said quietly behind Catalina. He had finished the braid and was tying a hair tie at the end.

               “Who Adrianna?” asked Jimin.

               “The vampire who changed me,” he said. “Ah, she was incredible. I miss her every day still.”

               “She’s not around anymore?” Jimin asked.

               Taehyung shook his head. “When we moved to the United States, the town we lived in found out we were vampires and they were going to lynch us. I got away, but she didn’t.”

               Jimin crawled over to him and gave him a hug.

               “I’m so sorry,” he said.

               Taehyung pouted and said, “It’s okay. It gets easier over time, especially now that I’m making new friends and doing things again.”

               “How did you meet her?” Catalina asked.

               “She found me in Korea. She was travelling the world, avoiding the hunts in France and Europe, and she ended up there,” Taehyung began. “I was only about sixteen at the time. I was painting and doing calligraphy for the royal family, but most of my time was spent on my grandma’s farm. She raised me so I wanted to help her out as much as I could. Adrianna found our farm and we let her stay with us, since she seemed unwilling to go into the town. She didn’t speak Korean at the time and I didn’t speak French, so we couldn’t talk much. She taught me French, and once I got decent at it, I taught her Korean and we became close friends after that. She stayed with us on the farm for a few years, helping with the chores and everything, and teaching me different art styles. She was an incredible painter. I found out she was a vampire one day when I saw her sneaking out of the house at night, so I followed her. She went into the village and drank from someone, hypnotizing them so they couldn’t remember. I told her I would keep her secret.

               “After my grandma passed away, I sold the farm and Adrianna took me to France. The hunts had ended and people were becoming more interested in art and science. We lived well in France, staying in a big house and studying under great painters. I even got to see the grave of Alexandria the Annihilator.”

               Namjoon, Yoongi and Jimmy K all gasped.

               “No way,” said Namjoon.

               “What was it like?” asked Yoongi.

               “Was her sword really on display there?” asked Jimmy K.

               “How do you even know who she is?” asked Taehyung. Jimmy K just grinned. “Anyway, yes, her sword was there. It was so big! It even looked like there was old blood on the blade. It was in a glass case, resting on a bed of her real fur capes.”

               Namjoon and Yoongi both erupted into a chorus of “so cool”s and “I’m so jealous”s.

               “Okay wait,” Jimin interrupted. “Who is Alexandria the Annihilator?”

               “Yeah, she sounds awesome,” said Jungkook.

               “She was,” said Jimmy K. “I did my history thesis on her. She was a famous vampire who led the resistance in France against the church. She saved hundreds of vampires by hiding them and smuggling them out of the country, but she also killed thousands of humans. She was slain in the early 16th century, ending the resistance and the hunts for good. Her lineage still lives though; she supposedly had a daughter with a human man, but it was in the midst of the resistance, so her daughter was smuggled away, kept in hiding for a long time. No one knows if she was a human, or a vampire, or something in between, but she’s said to still be alive today.”

               “Anyway,” Taehyung continued. “Adrianna and I lived in France during the early 17th century, so almost a hundred years after all that bad stuff. We had a lot of fun together. I had a little dog during those years, Yeontan, and I got to learn all about vampire history and culture. I wanted to be a part of it, and I wanted to be with Adrianna forever, so I kept asking her to turn me. She kept reminding me that immortality becomes a curse if you’re alive too long, and that I should wait to make a decision like that. We studied philosophy together, and I learned about life and death, and what our purpose was on this earth, I learned about critical thinking and how to form arguments. And when I was in my early twenties, I asked her again to turn me. I gave her a proper argument and everything. And she did.

               “And then, during the 1800s, we came to America and she…” Taehyung trailed off, his smile fading. “And then I was alone for a while. But then I travelled west, met Namjoon, and have been living here ever since.”

               “Were you and Adrianna lovers?” asked Catalina. Taehyung shook his head.

               “No. We loved each other dearly, but I was in love with her. I think she might have been gay though,” he said. “She liked to dress as a man when we travelled, she called herself ‘Adrien’ when she did. Or maybe she might have been trans. Well, either way, she wasn’t interested in men.”

               “She sounds like she was a very interesting person,” said Jimin.

               “She was,” Taehyung said with a small smile.

               Catalina then automatically turned her attention to Yoongi, hoping he’d share his story next. Apparently, everyone had the same idea, because when Yoongi looked up, he said, “Why are you all staring at me?”

               “Aren’t you going tell us your story next?” asked Jimmy K.

               “Oh, it’s really not that interesting,” Yoongi said with a wave of his hand. “I don’t even remember it.”

               “Oh, you’re so funny,” Hoseok said with a laugh. “He’s lying.”

               Yoongi let out a deep sigh and sunk into the couch he was on.

               “Where to start?” he asked. 

[smutbymia]

into the woods

WARNING: violence & dystopian themes, alcohol consumption, minor sexual themes -- no smut (yet?) but lots of tension

Word Count: n/a i hit the limit lol

Pairing: Yuta Nakamoto x Female Reader

PLOT: In this world, the only safe places tend to be within the various compounds that each community is confined to. Between these compound’s is rainforest where war, crime, and danger tends to lurk -- it is the only place where there is no law and no authority, which makes it the perfect place for those who do not fair well with following the rules of the few societal structures that exist. Y/n leaves the compound on a research mission -- going beyond her usual limits, in the risk of making important medical advancements for her people, and finds herself in the underbelly of the uncharted territory. 

The afternoon air was crisp -- a very rare occurrence in the compound where most days were typically humid and damp. Weather like this usually meant others would be freely roaming around the grounds enjoying the outdoors without worrying about beads of sweat clinging to the sides of their foreheads or the warmth of the sun engulfing every inch of their skin.

You sat perched on the rooftop of the medical building watching as people continued with their usual tasks. Children with their hands firmly interlocked in each-others grasps spun in circles as they fell into a fit of giggles -- the warm breeze tearing through their hair. A smile spread across your face before disappearing once more as your eyes settled on a woman who pushed a cart down a narrow path between two other small structures as you noticed the slightest limp in her step. 

You drew your hair into a bun before rummaging around the the satchel you had slung across your chest. Your fingers landed on the pen you kept tucked in a compartment of the sack which you pulled out and stuck directly into your mouth before diving in once more to retrieve the medical notebook you had spent years filling with information. You flipped through the pages as you landed on a particular section of the book you used to keep track of treatments you wished to further develop. After scribbling a note down about joint pain, and potential herbs and plants you wished to further research for its treatment, you closed the book once more and shoved it, along with your pen back into the satchel before zipping it shut and swinging your legs back over the ledge of the roof. 

You crossed the top of the structure before descending a ladder that would take you back into the building, landing in a hallway that stretched across the third floor where approximately 7 rooms were located. Most staff of the medical centre stayed here, as the compound relied heavily on the availability of their services. It was a place you once stayed as well, before you decided to use her talents elsewhere. It was certainly rewarding to help others, but your curiosity in the field of medicine had gone beyond just working in the centre. You wanted to discover more, and you did. Now, you worked amongst a team of people tasked with the extraction of medicinal herbs and plants in the forest, whom the people of the compound referred to as scavenger medics. 

It was one of the many roles that existed in this locked off town. There were shopkeepers of all sorts, members of the government who supported the Father of the Compound -- who oversaw the community as its official leader, and a military team that worked to secure the outskirts of the compound, often venturing into the unlawful lands of the forest to conduct trades with neighbouring compounds in the eastern parts of the rainforest where it was safer to conduct business. The West, however, is where many refused to venture at all. Only those who became ex-pats of the compound or those banished for the most severe crimes where released into the west side of the rainforest. And once released, they were never heard of again.

“Actually, they say if you go out far enough west you’ll find someplace better to live,” you’d hear kids whisper in school, growing up. 

“No, they’ll cut your head off in the west forest!” was another legend that was commonly spread around the compound. But you knew the truth, or at least some of it. Yes, the west was dangerous, but it was also the part of the rainforest with the richest most rare resources. 

Before the passing of your father, he told you all about the west forest, which he often snuck to in search of rare herbs and plants. The little cabin located in a quiet and secluded area of the West Side of the Compound (where most people avoided due to its proximity to the “bad” parts of the forest), where he raised you was positioned perfectly by the large concrete barrier that surrounded the entire community. 

Only you and your father knew of the small opening he had managed to create years and years before that was concealed by thick shrubbery on the back of your family property. Because even the military could not patrol that particular corner of the wall due to the dense forestry that was directly on its other side, it served as the perfect blindspot -- and the only way you could discretely move in and out of the compound without anyone knowing, which happened to be extremely illegal. 

The sound of your combat boots echoed through the quiet hallway as you made your way towards the staircase. You walked past a few open doors where other medics were tucked away in their boarding rooms, either resting, rummaging through books, or working away at their desks. As you reached the staircase you gripped the banister, preparing to descend as a familiar voice rang out to stop you. 

“Y/n? Are you taking your leave of absence now?” you heard the head medic call out from his office.

    You hesitated, wondering if it was best to pretend like you hadn’t heard him before deciding that it would probably be best to solidify the lie you had been preparing. You turned on your heels to stand in the doorway, leaning against its frame. Doyoung was by far the best medic in the compound and had trained directly under your father for many years. He wasn’t much older than you. Though you weren’t exactly close, you did see him often growing up. What you liked most about him was his calm demeanour and the unspoken trust you both had for each other -- even though you did stretch the truth about the nature of your research leaves. 

“Yes, I’ve finished the briefing for the scavenger medics already. I’ll be off for about a week or so,” you mumbled quietly. It wasn’t until you peered around the side of the door that you noticed another medic sitting in the office as well. She was an older woman who was very caring but very nosy and had a tendency to ask way too many questions. You braced yourself as you watched her draw air into her lungs as her mouth fell open.

“A week or so? You’ll be gone that long?” she began while furrowing her brows with what appeared to be a look of concern, “And a young girl like you who lives on her own in the west end of the compound... I can stop by and --”.

You cut her off abruptly, “I’ll be fine. I don’t see visitors during my leave. It’s a part of my routine. I need to get some research done and reorganize treatment plans,” you answered cooly -- just as you had rehearsed. 

“But, we have office spare rooms here. Wouldn’t you feel more comfortable if--” she began. The look on your face must have been ice cold because Doyoung cut in for you this time. 

“Y/n, doesn’t like to be disturbed during her research leaves. I didn’t understand at first but her work speaks for itself. We’ll see her whenever she returns,” he said, looking up at you fondly. 

You offered up a weak smile before nodding your head at him and turning to leave without another word. 

    You rested your hand on the banister of the staircase again, stepping down as the wood creaked beneath your feet. Just as you neared the bottom you heard Doyoung speaking to the female medic.

    “She’s not unusual. She just takes after her father in every way and he was by far the smartest man I’ve ever known,” he reassured her. 

    You rolled your eyes. The nerve of that lady. There was no need to be mad, though. Many people thought of you that way but it was for the best because it kept them at a distance. Without that distance you wouldn’t be able to disappear for days on end without your absence being noticed. 

    The second floor of the medical building was very much like the third, except the rooms were larger and held beds for house patients while other rooms were used for medical checkups. The first floor, which you had finally reached was where medicinal treatments, from cats claw tea, to tuyuya vines extracted from the eastern parts of the forest -- everything needed for pain relief, detoxing, or even healing tonics like Ginseng were also packaged to be sold and prescribed to members of the compounds community. 

     You squeezed your way through the crowd of people who crammed into the small space as incense floated through the air, coating the lower floor with healing smells. People shopped for leisure and health purposes here, and came for their checkups. The compound was filled with people who worked to keep the community alive, and running as smoothly as possible. Those that did labour work frequented the medical pharmacy the most, and others such as midwives and cafe owners stopped by often to purchase supplies and products needed to maintain their businesses as well. 

    You pushed through the front door of the building, stepping right out onto the dirt road. The sky was beginning to turn a slight shade of yellow, signalling the beginning of golden hour.

  “One hour until the sun sets, then...”, you thought to yourself, “I better hurry.”

     You weaved through the people who strolled through the streets as the end of the work day approached as you made your way home, being sure to look up up at the sun as it moved positions, carefully keeping track of time. You took your usual shortcuts through a few back alleys while stopping to buy a few things like bread and matches and soon enough you had reached the west side of the compound. Mostly labour workers lived back here now. Most were middle aged and worked in the mines or in construction around the compound and for the most part stuck to themselves. A few had wives but once they had children opted to move to a more desirable area of the compound. You watched as the lanterns that lined the neighbourhood streets flickered on, faintly illuminating your path until you reached the end and went off road, trekking towards the bottom of a slight hill where your cabin was tucked away.

    Most people may have found the area a bit frightening but you knew the true beauty of what was ahead. The sound of the creek that ran alongside the property was the tell tale sign that you had reached your destination. The sun was due to set any minute now. 

     You pushed open your front door, not even waiting a second to rest. You tore off piece after piece of the bread you had purchased and shoving them past your lips, savouring the warm before putting the rest in your pantry and dusting your hands off on your shorts before making your way through the small cabin to change and pack your belongings up. 

       A quick trip out of the compound into the west forest didn’t last more than a few hours at most but you planned to make the most of it to limit the amount of times during your leave of absence that you would have to sneak away. The second the sun would set you planned on venturing out and returning just before sunrise again since it was risky to approach the outskirts of the compound during daylight. 

     You changed into a pair of black pants that hugged your body and a short sleeved cropped shirt before throwing on a sweater overtop and a pair of boots that were light, yet sturdy enough to navigate the wooded areas of the forest. Next, you needed to pack the small rucksack you planned on carrying with you. You had your medical kit prepared which included vials, and baggies that you used to transport medicinal herbs and extracted liquids, as well as other smaller containers used to carry seeds and uprooted plants you retrieved from the forest as well as bandages, gauze, disinfectant, and tools such as scissors and a compass. 

      Finally, you entered your fathers room which had remained virtually untouched since his death. After quickly shifting the rug under his worktable and carefully lifting the floorboard, you clicked open a small wooden box where you kept a collection of weapons. You retrieved two switchblades one small and the other larger, dropping one in your sack while the other remained tucked into the leather holster you wore around your waist before slipped the baton into a holster positioned around your thigh. And the most essential item of all was the leather bound travel notebook you carried with you to document research and keep track of the items you intended to return with because your usual notebook was far too valuable to bring with you on the outside.  

      You stood in front of the mirror in your fathers room as you drew your hair up into a high ponytail and casted a quick glance out of the window. The sun was officially set. As you made your way through your house, slipping into the backyard and locking up, you took a brief pause by the creek as you filled a canister with fresh water before fastening it to your sack. With one final glance back at your home and at the one faint source of light from a lamp you left on to mimic your presence, you approached the shrubbery hidden at the back of your property, parting it with your hands and falling to your knees, crawling the remainder of the way to the opening in the concrete wall that you squeezed through before emerging on the other end into another set of thick bushes.

     After crawling for another minute or two, you had made it out. You were careful to conceal your path once more as you rose to your feet, and broke off into a jog. You had successfully entered the west forest. 

Your father told you a lot about this area. You knew where to find the things you needed, you rummaged through your rucksack to retrieve your notebook and aimlessly flipped through the pages as you wandered through the thick of the woods, using the little bit of moonlight available to illuminate its pages. 

After about two hours or so you had retrieve a good amount of herbs and carefully packaged everything. You had worked through your list much faster than you originally expected and considered turning back to the compound before reaching a clearing. 

You squinted your eyes as you gazed across the river and over into a deeper part of the woods. You had never reached this river before but the thickness of the woods ahead made you feel compelled to cross. You could only imagine the plants that grew beyond the water and you stood idle fighting the urge to run across full force into the unexplored land. Just as you moved to step forward into the river, you heard the splashing of footsteps along the river bank. 

You stumbled backwards as you tried to retreat into the shadows to conceal yourself. Your hand travelled down to your waistband for your blade, and just as your fingers danced met the cool metal of its handle you felt someone grip your wrist. You almost let out a gasp until you felt the cool blade of a knife at your neck forcing you to hold your breath in unless you wanted it to cut the delicate skin under your chin. 

You stood motionless as your body was spun around away from the river. Your captor held you firmly in position as the back of your body pressed into his front, and his back was firmly positioned against the trunk of a tall tree. 

“Shh...” he said in a faint whisper directly into your ear. He was so close that you felt his lips brush against the lobe of your ear. Despite the delicate tone in his voice, his touch was strong, steady, and rough. You tried not to panic as you listened to the footsteps get closer and closer as they continued to splash down the bank of the river. You tried to shift under his grip but he held you tightly. You tried not to lose control of your breathing as you felt the anxiousness starting to build up. He must have sensed this as he shifted the blade a little further away from your skin. 

“Hold still, or I’ll have to kill you,” he said, his threat sounding again, like a delicate song whispered into your ear. You calmed under his touch, not wanting to provoke him. As the sound of the footsteps became more faint, you stood together for what felt like ages before he was confident enough that whoever was after him had long since disappeared. 

When you felt his grip relax, you moved your wrist in an attempt to distract him. As he tightened his grip on your right hand you used the opportunity to reach for the baton you had on your thigh, clicking the button on it and watching it extend itself out. It was enough to distract the man momentarily, as he removed the knife from your neck but wrapped himself completely around your body as he drew you with him to the ground, losing his stability as the two of you slid down a hidden embankment located a few steps away from the tree you had been up against earlier.

He held onto you firmly as the two of you rolled down the embankment before finally coming to a stop with you positioned above him. You scrambled quickly reaching for your blade as you straddled him, this time moving quicker than he was. As you pressed it to his neck the moonlight stretched across his face -- finally allowing you to get a good look at your captor. 

His gaze was dark, and his long silver hair was splayed around around his head as a few strands fell over his forehead. You were taken aback by his beauty, and as you both locked eyes you could see a smirk momentarily tug at the corner of his lips as you let out a gasp. He was... fucking beautiful, you thought. In fact, he looked nothing like any other man you had seen before. 

Within seconds he had reversed your position, straddling you in exchange, this time pinning your arm that held your blade above your head and roping his other hand around your neck. This time you didn’t fight back. You couldn’t. He leaned closer to your face, holding his own inches in front of yours. 

“Do you want to die quickly, or should I let you suffer?” he muttered under his breath as he slowly tightened his grip around your neck, limiting your breathing. You writhed underneath him as tears pooled in your eyes.

“Or...” he began, as he used his other hand to pry your switchblade free from your grip, “should i kill you with your own blade for giving me such a hard time?” 

You felt warm liquid drip onto the exposed skin of your stomach as you used the last bit of your strength as your vision went spotty to reach out and yank his shirt up, exposing his torso. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, as he winced in pain. 

“I-i can help,” you pleaded, your voice barely coming out in a whisper. “I can help you!” but you felt yourself slipping further and further away as your arm fell back to your side and your vision went black. 

You blinked a few times before regaining consciousness one more. Your eyes scanned your surroundings as you watched as the boy from earlier sat a few feet away from you, rummaging through your rucksack. 

You reached your hand up to your neck, rubbing at the sore flesh when his gaze landed back down on you.

 “Welcome back,” he muttered weakly as he pulled out your notebook and began thumbing through its pages slowly. 

Your eyes settled down on his shirt, noticing that the pool of blood in the fabric had grown significantly bigger.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” you complained as you lifted yourself up, wincing at the soreness you felt throughout your body. You approached him and this time neither of you moved to attack. 

His face was dripping in sweat as his skin was beginning to go pale. He sat against the bank, and dropped his head back as his energy quickly depleted. You lifted his shirt over his head, leaving him half naked to assess his wound. You thought maybe he had injured himself during your fall but the slash across the side of his abdomen made it clear that his injury was caused by a sharp weapon. You used his shirt to wipe away the excess blood. 

“You must have been bleeding for hours...” you muttered. He grunted in response, still with his eye closed. You reached for your bag and coated a cloth with disinfectant. He let out a loud hiss as it came in contact with his skin before you treated the wound with gauze and bandaging him up. He had passed out during the process and as you finally finished his eyes began to flutter open again. He ran his hand across his torso, feeling the bandage under his touch as his eyes met yours. 

“Why’d you do that? Are you really this stupid?” he asked. You rolled your eyes as you packed up your belongings and began retrieving your blade and baton without answering his question. He watched as you slipped your weapons back into their holsters and strapped your bag cross your back once more. 

Just as you were about to get up and leave he reached out to grab your wrist. 

“I. almost. killed. you.” he said through gritted teeth. You yanked your hand from his grip, growing tired of him touching you as if he had full agency of your body. 

“Yeah, I know. Thanks a lot,” you responded -- voice dripping in sarcasm. You shot him a cold glance as you got up and began making your way back up the bank. 

“Wait, where are you going?” he called after you. 

“Home,” you muttered as he immediately let out a scoff in response. 

“Nobody in the West Forest has a home. And if they do, they don’t make it back there alive,” he said matter-of-factly. 

“Good thing I’m not a nobody, then,” you snapped back. 

This time he let out an even louder laugh wincing as he drew himself to his feet. 

“Trust me, if you go back up that way you won’t make it back to your precious home alive,” he said as he looked up at the moon. “This is when they all come out to play,” he murmured under his breath. 

You rolled your eyes again as you ignored his words. As you took a step forward, you heard the sound of a single gun shot in the distance. It was enough for you to freeze on the spot. 

“We need to go. Now,” said the boy. He didn’t wait for you to respond before he pulled at your wrist and went off sprinting deeper into the rainforest. The air was damp, and the condensation that pooled on top of the leaves of the shrubbery you tore through together left you both covered in droplets of water. 

You were out of breath and panting when you reached a clearing. The boy with the silver hair still kept a firm grip on your wrist as he craned his neck up to the sky to look at the moon. He muttered to himself under his breath as he whipped his head around in every direction. You pulled out your compass from your pocket, trying to gain some sense of direction. You were getting further and further away from home and the sun would be rising soon. 

“This way,” he said as he continued to pull you further away from your compound. Eventually you reached a quiet area of the rainforest so hidden that you were surprised when you stumbled across it. Tipi like structures were scattered in the area and well hidden thanks to the way they were concealed with forestry in a camouflage like manor. 

The boy pulled you into the nearest one as he fumbled around before the inside was finally illuminated by a lantern. The both of you jumped in shock as he pushed you behind his body for protection, before sighing deeply. You peered around his shoulder, at the boys who sat cross legged in front of you. 

“Yuta, where the hell have you been... and who the fuck is she?” said one of them. He had black hair and big eyes. You held tightly to Yuta -- just now learning his name, out of fear.  His fingers were tightly roped in yours. You both glanced down at your hands before frantically pulling apart. 

“I... had to deal with something,” he said. Another boy with blonde hair who donned a slit in his eyebrow nodded his head in your direction. 

“And the girl? You know you can’t bring people back here right?” he asked. They all looked at you — gazes trailing every inch of your body. 

“Uh... I t-traded her,” he blurted out after failing to come up with an excuse. “I got her.. in a trade,” he finished. 

Your jaw dropped as you swatted at his shoulder, and shot him an icy look. 

“What I mean, is that she’s a medic. So she’s actually very useful to us,” he began, “so don’t see her as some random person I brought here because she’s... valuable, see?” he finished as he motioned to his torso. 

“Why would we need need another medic?” mumbled the third boy. He was tall and strong looking. He stood out from the rest because of his laid back stance.

“H-hi, my name is,” you began, before another boy dipped into the tent behind you both. He froze the second the two of you locked eyes.

“Y/N?” the voice called out in shock as they settled on your face. 

“D-doyoung?!” you screeched. Everyone in the tent fell silent and Yuta glanced slowly between the two of you.

Neither you nor Doyoung said a word to each other. His gaze remained attached to yours as his eyes conveyed what seemed like an endless combination of emotions.

He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t get the words out. Your eyes wandered over his body, shocked to see him dressed so differently. The man who worked as a medic who always donned a white uniform looked unlike himself. His hair, which was usually parted and styled to perfection was gelled back sloppily, and he was dressed head to do in dark military styled clothing. He looked like all of the other boys from the campground.

Yuta finally broke the never ending silence that had fallen across everyone in the enclosed space.

“I don’t know what’s going on but can this all wait until morning time? I’m sore and tired,” he complained as he ran his hand delicately over his bandaged torso while letting out a tiresome yawn.

He looked over at the boys seated behind you both and nodded his head in the direction of the exit as he encouraged them to leave what you now realized was his tent.

As they moved to get up, Yuta turned back to you.

“You’ll sleep here—“ he began before getting interrupted almost immediately by Doyoung.

“No. She won’t,” he blurted out sternly.

Yuta, who was still looking at you, turned towards Doyoung with his eyebrows raised before a smirk stretched across his face.

It was similar to the one you had seen earlier when you straddled him with your knife pressed to the skin of his neck. One side of his mouth titled upwards and his eyes glinted in amusement. You cursed yourself for even getting distracted by the thought as you tried to clear your head and focus on what was going on right now inside the tent.

“Is she your girlfriend or something?” he taunted as he cocked his head to one side.

Doyoung’s cheeks flushed a barely visible shade of pink as he scoffed before muttering under his breath a weak “Of course not.”

“Then what’s the problem, doc?” said Yuta — his words dripping in venom this time.

Knowing Doyoung and his usually calm demeanour, you fully expected him to surrender and abandon whatever argument the men seemed to be on the brink of. But to your surprise he did the opposite.

“She works for me. I’m responsible for her!” he spat back. The other boys who had been in the process of leaving the tent, paused as they observed the interaction.

“Yeah, well she owes me,” said Yuta calmly.

“For what exactly?” inquired Doyoung.

“For not killing her earlier when I had the chance,” he said shrugging. Yuta ran his fingers through his silver locks aimlessly as if his words were meaningless.

“Hey, I saved your life... so technically we’re even,” you whined.

“Yeah but I brought you here instead of leaving you stranded with those gunmen running around,” Yuta reminded you as he flashed you a cheeky grin.

Doyoung’s eyes went wide from shock at Yuta’s prior admission to almost killing you before he zeroed in on your neck where your skin donned a few faint finger shaped bruises.

“W-what the hell? You did that to her?” he said glaring at Yuta, “he did this to you?!” he yelled as he diverted his gaze right back to you as his eyes franticly looked back and forth between your face and your neck.

Yuta rolled his eyes. Doyoung on the other hand was extremely riled up.

“Y/n, wait outside,” Doyoung said through gritted teeth as he glared at Yuta. You opened your mouth to protest at his order — not appreciating his tone, until Yuta placed a hand on the small of your back and sighed while delicately urging you to exit the tent.

“It’s okay,” was all he said as you reluctantly exited the tent, followed by the other three boys as Doyoung watched you with what seemed like an expression of anger and pain all in one.

Once you made it out the tent you could hear the strained noises of Yuta and Doyoung arguing back and forth.

The other boys quickly surrounded you. The first one to speak was the tall, relaxed one from earlier.

“I’m Johnny,” he said. Then he gestured towards the other boy with black hair and bright eyes “this is mark, and this is Taeyong,” he finished as he gestured towards the blonde boy with the slit in his brow.

“Y/n,” was all you could mutter in response as you craned your neck to look past them towards the tent.

“Your presence seems to have caused quite a bit of drama,” said Johnny as he chuckled.

“Where are you from anyway?” asked Mark curiously.

“The same compound as Doyoung,” you said. The boys exchanged suspicious glances with achother.

“So what were you doing in the west forest?” asked Taeyong.

You went on a brief spiel, recounting the events of the night — omitting the details of how you managed to sneak out of the compound. By the end the boys were chuckling a bit as you explained how you had held Yuta at knifepoint and then managed to end up back at the tents.

“Leave it to Yuta to almost die at the hands of a pretty girl in the middle of the forest,” Mark joked. The other boys agreed that it seemed very on brand for their friend to end up in such an unpredictable situation. However, they admitted it was very unusual for him to look out for someone the way he had for you.

“Speaking of...” you began as you had finally circled back to Yuta’s tent after walking in circles as you fell into conversation with the boys. “I wonder what’s going on in there. They’ve been talking for ages. I’m exhausted,” you complained.

“You could always sleep in my tent,” teased Mark before he jumped, absolutely startled by the heavy hand that had just landed on his shoulder.

“Do you have a death wish?” Yuta asked as he squeezed at the side of marks neck. The other boys stifled a laugh as Doyoung appeared with a stern expression by their sides while Mark winced in pain.

Doyoung approached you. “We need to talk,” he said as he walked off. You trailed behind him as you heard the boys and Yuta fall into conversation behind you.

“What, do you have a crush on her or something?” squealed Mark.

“What makes you think you could handle someone like her, baby?” Yuta teased at the youngest of the group.

“I heard she almost slit your throat so I doubt you can handle her anymore than I can,” Mark scoffed. Taeyong and Johnny broke into a fit of laughter as Yuta drew Mark into a headlock and the boys began to playfully scuffle.

Doyoung had taken you down to a small river that was situated near the campgrounds before turning to you.

“I bet you have a lot of questions,” he said. Truthfully, you didn’t even know where to begin. So much had happened over the last few hours and even though seeing Doyoung was probably the most surprising of all those things, you seemed to be at a loss for words. You looked up at him before shrugging softly and kicking the tiny pebbles by your feet into the water.

“First off, are you alright?” he asked as he reached out to touch your neck. You winced as his fingers came in contact with one of the small bruises left behind by Yuta.

“I’m fine, it’s just a little sore,” you answered. “What are you even doing out here, Doyoung?” you questioned.

He didn’t even hesitate before answering. “I’m working on something. There are certain things you don’t know about the compound,” he explained.

“What things?” you questioned.

“Well... it’s really complicated. But what I can say is that there are bad things going on there with the government,” he said hesitantly. You went wide eyed as you turned to him, hoping for answers.

“I can’t explain everything right now. You just can’t tell anyone that you’ve seen me here. And you can’t come out here again. I’m guessing you left through your fathers tunnel?” he asked. You were taken aback. You thought his tunnel had been a secret.

“H-how did you know?” you asked.

“He taught me a lot, y/n. He just left before we could get our real work done. I knew you left during your leaves from work but I didn’t expect you to come this deep into the forest. He told me that you were taught to stay within specific boundaries!” Doyoung said, as he scolded you.

“I did. If I hadn’t run into Yuta then-“ you began, before Doyoung cut him off.

“Yuta isn’t someone you should be hanging around. None of these guys are. You don’t belong here. You need to stay at the compound where it’s safer for you,” he argued.

At this point it was getting annoying. All these years your relationship had remained casual and distant and now he seemed to have transformed in an instant and become far too comfortable barking orders at you.

“You just said it yourself that there are bad things going on at the compound so why does it matter?” you spat.

“Because there are killers roaming this forest. You don’t understand what it’s like out here!” he yelled.

“And you do?” you challenged.

Doyoung sighed as he squeezed the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“I’ve been out here for years, y/n. You don’t know the half of it. You need to trust me,” he pleaded.

“You can’t expect me to trust you when you aren’t telling me anything,” you replied.

“Population control,” he stated abruptly. You opened your mouth to question him but he spoke again before you could get any words out.

“Resources have been running low for years. They’re controlling the population in the compound. People are being kicked out for crimes they didn’t commit. New uncontrollable illnesses are popping up slowly. There have been talks about the father being responsible. The compound is conducting shady trades and even seem to have some criminals from the west forest involved. I’ve been working with a few trusted people to expose it all and change things but...” he blurted our quickly.

“You’re staging a coup d’état?” you gasped. Doyoung sighed again.

“It’s not that simple. This is something that has been going on long before we were old enough to understand. This is something your father worked on too. He is one of many that wanted to liberate the compound. Not just ours either. He wanted to take back the forest and live in an open society like in the old days,” Doyoung explained.

Your head spun with the new information that had suddenly been dumped on you. You couldn’t even speak. For what felt like forever, you both stood in silence.

“I have to get back to the compound. I managed to slip away from the crowd but the rest of the head medics are going to grow suspicious soon if I don’t make it back east,” said Doyoung.

“B-but what about the gunmen?” you asked.

“I’ve been escorted to a meeting point by the some military men from the compound. I’m the only person authorized to do that in order to get some harder to find medical resources. I usually wouldn’t be able to come this Far East but one of the children of the Father of the Compound have been ill with an ongoing condition since he was a child and it’s worsened so I’ve been making more frequent trips. I’m the only person who has special permission to venture off alone and its because the father really wants to keep his child’s condition private,” he began, “so I need to get back to the meeting point quickly. They’ll escort me back.”

You nodded before Doyoung spoke again.

“I spoke with Yuta. He’ll get you back to the compound sometime within the next 3 days. Please just stay on the campgrounds and out of trouble until then,” he warned.

The two of you made your way back towards the campgrounds. Doyoung slipped away back into the forest after you said your goodbyes and you walked the rest of the way back.

Everyone had seem to retreat back into their respective tents as you approached Yuta’s. You ducked through the opening before pulling it closed behind you again. The tent felt much more spacious now that there weren’t as many people stuffed inside but to your surprise, Yuta was not inside.

You made your way over towards the flat sleeping mattress that was placed in a section of the tent as you decided to wait for him to return. That was the last thing you remembered as you fought the feeling of exhaustion that had finally overcome your body as you slipped into a deep sleep in the unfamiliar space.

The next morning you woke up to warmth and the feeling of your head rising and falling ever so slightly.

“This is relaxing,” you mumbled to yourself despite being half asleep.

Your head began to shake as a soft chuckle tumbled through Yuta’s chest as he answered quietly, “is it?”. Your eyes flew open within seconds as you realized you had been draped over his body and your head was currently resting against his chest.

“Oh my god.. OH MY GOD,” you gasped as you pulled yourself off of him and drew yourself into a seated position on the mattress in an attempt to create as much distance between you and Yuta as you possibly could.

Yuta still laughed softly. Your cheeks burned with heat as you could feel them begin to flush. You couldn’t help but wonder how long you had been sleeping like that. You were so tired the night before that you barely remembered falling asleep and definitely didn’t remember hearing or feeling yuta get into bed.

“W-why would you sleep here?” you scolded.

“Well this is my tent and my bed,” he answered as he slowly lifted himself up, being mindful of the bandage on his torso. He drew a shirt over his head as you watched him get dressed. His hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and despite it being morning time, he still looked so beautiful.

“Well you should have woken me up instead of just—“ you began.

“Instead of what? Becoming your human pillow? You didn’t seem to mind when you were sleeping like a baby all night,” he teased.

You pouted at Yuta as he winked back at you before dropping to his knees back on the mattress. He leaned towards you while resting on his hands as your heart began to beat faster. The closer he got to you the bigger the smile on his face became.

You leaned back away as his body drew closer to yours and his face hovered towards you. When he was close enough to bridge the gap between the two of you, you squeezed your eyes shut and pushed your hands out against his chest to stop him from moving as you braced yourself.

A few seconds passed but nothing. You opened up your eyes again with your hands still firmly against Yuta’s chest as you met his gaze.

He held back laughter as he reached one of his hands behind you and out of sight before it emerged again in your line of vision, this time with a stainless steel water bottle in his grasp which he had been reaching for the entire time while you were in the way. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, princess,” he chuckled before leaning away from you again and getting up. He made his way to the exit of the tent before slipping out.

“Wait here,” he muttered before disappearing and leaving you flustered, a bit embarrassed, and frankly still tired. You flopped back down on the mattress with a loud groan as you pulled the blankets over your head as you drifted back to sleep with thoughts of that cheeky bastard in your head.

The next time you woke up, you were alone. There was however a plate of fruit from the forest and some other greenery in a bowl waiting for you by the mattress. You didn’t hesitate for even a second before diving in. You hadn’t realized how hungry you had been.

Outside had grown gloomy again making you feel as though you were beginning to lose perception of time all together. It must have been a little while until sunset which meant you had slept through almost the entirety of the day.

You were finishing off the last bit of avocado that was left in your bowl when you heard someone call your name from outside of the tent.

You made your way outside only to find out that it was Mark who had been calling you.

“Sick! You’re finally awake!” he said excitedly. “Dude do you always sleep this much?” he giggled.

“Ugh, don’t even get me started. I don’t know how I managed to sleep for so long. I must have had a rough night,” you whined.

“Oh yeah, how did you sleep?” he asked. You blushed as the memory of this morning returned to you. The thought of being cuddled up to Yuta like that had slipped your mind yet you couldn’t help but feel the same level of embarrassment all over again now that Mark had unknowingly reminded you.

“Uh... y/n?” he called out as he waved a hand in front of your face.

“O-oh, I slept okay. I’m just still a little sore,” you murmured as you snapped out of your thoughts. You rubbed aimlessly at the bruises on your neck.

Mark tsked as he reached out to softly run his hands over your neck. “Yuta... that idiot. Why would he hurt you like this?” he said as he shook his head.

“She could have been dangerous,” said Taeyong as he walked up behind Mark to join in on the conversation.

“Yeah right. Yuta just likes to play rough,” Mark said as he dropped his hand.

“Well if it hurts that bad then we have the perfect thing to make you feel better, y/n,” said Taeyong as a small smile played on his lips.

“Guys! It’s ready!” yelled Johnny from across the tent grounds. The boys glanced at each other, smiling. Mark grabbed your wrist as he pulled you through the campgrounds past a series of empty tents until you reached a raging bonfire in its center.

“Where is everyone else?” you asked after noticing that you hadn’t seen anyone but the boys since your arrival

“Most of them are away dealing with business in the forest. A few others patrol the outer parts of the campground in shifts and alternate every few days so it’s just us for the next week,” answered Taeyong.

“Which is why tonight we are gonna celebrate the arrival of our dear y/n... and by celebrate I mean eat and get drunk because we finally have this place to ourselves,” said Johnny as he pulled out a large container filled with questionable liquid and held it over his head.

The four of you passed around more fruits and vegetables, grilling things over the bonfire along with some meat. The questionable alcoholic mixture Johnny had managed to make was actually surprisingly good and it didn’t take long for everyone to get buzzed. You cooed at the warm feeling in your stomach as you stuffed your mouth with food.

“Mmm, I’ll never get over how great fresh food tastes right out of the forest,” you squealed. The boys looked on in amusement.

“Maybe there are some perks to being out here after all,” muttered Johnny.

You all continued to drink and eat for a while as the sun set for the day. Eventually you fell into conversation with the boys whom it turns out you got along with quite well.

“Wait, where’s Yuta?” you slurred, tilting your head to the side.

As if on cue, he emerged from the shadows looking a bit dishevelled.

“Did you miss me?” he taunted as he approached the rest of the group, grabbing what was left of the plentiful amount of food you had grilled to eat. His eyes settled on the container of alcohol before letting out a deep sigh.

“No wonder I could hear you guys from the other side of the campgrounds. Why would you let these idiots get you drunk, princess?” he questioned as he shoved a piece of meat into his mouth and poured himself a cup of the mixture.

“Who me? I’m not drunk!” you slurred again. The boys giggled at the high pitched sound of your drunk voice. Taeyong, Mark and Johnny got up to retrieve more firewood while they continued chatting away. They occupied themselves with the bonfire as Yuta settled down next to you.

“You sleep like a baby and now that you’re drunk, you sound like one too,” said Yuta while forcing a slice of mango past your lips.

The juices from the fruit trickled down your chin as he fed you. To his surprise, you wrapped your lips around his fingers, suckling softly at the juices that coated his fingers.

Yuta’s mouth fell open slightly as he slowly pulled his fingers away from you. He chuckled softly as his gaze went dark.

“Play nice,” he said sternly. You rolled your eyes at his warning before shrugging.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, where have you been all day?” you said, changing the subject.

“Just handling business,” he muttered. You pouted in response. You knew very well the kind of trouble Yuta seemed to find himself in while away from the campground.

“Doyoung told me about our compound but I just realized that he didn’t tell me much about what any of it has to do with you guys,” you complained.

“Don’t whine. It’s nothing you need to worry about. I’m gonna get you back to the compound tomorrow night like he asked,” Yuta answered.

“That’s so soon...” you said as your voice dropped down to a soft murmur.

“I know it must be nice to have a bunch of guys take care of you but did you really think you were going to live here forever or something?” he scoffed.

You shot him a cold glance before getting up from next to him and muttering under your breath, “whatever.”

You ditched him and joined the other boys by the fire as you cozied up next to Mark who was just as drunk as everyone else. It was only Yuta that hadn’t caught up yet and at this point his attitude was killing your vibe.

The boys were engaged in an animated conversation about grilling meat when you joined them. They argued over who amongst the group was the best at their grilling techniques.

“You have to hold it still for a minute before flipping it on to the next side!” Johnny yelled.

“Nonono, you’re holding it too close to the fire. It has to be higher!” said Taeyong as he cringed at Johnny’s method.

“Nah watch this,” said Mark as he placed a piece of meat on the end of a metal rod and shoved it directly into the flames before pulling it out again.

“Dude, you burned it,” laughed Johnny.

“Wait! That was a mistake. It wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said as he drunkenly giggled. You took the rod from him and placed another piece of meat on the end as you expertly rotated it for a few minutes over the fire, dipping it ever so slightly into the flames. Mark watched wide eyed as you held the rod in front of your lips and blew softly on the meat to cool it down before pulling it off of the metal and holding it out for him to taste. 

Mark opened his mouth as you placed the piece of meat into his mouth, letting your fingers brush softly against his lips as they lingered on his skin. Yuta froze,, watching the exchange between the two of you.

“Dang, this tastes so good,” Mark moaned as he chewed away at the meat. You smiled as you watched him savour the taste.

“We should put the fire out before the smoke becomes too obvious,” suggested Taeyong. He grabbed a few buckets while Johnny joined him. 

“We’ll come with!” offered Mark as he got up and drew you to your feet. “The rivers fun at night time,” he chuckled as he pulled you towards the direction you had gone in the night before with Doyoung. The two of you stumbled along the forest in a fit of giggles as Johnny and Taeyong trailed behind you with the buckets. Yuta sat alone by the fire seething as he watched you and Mark run off into the distance. 

Once you had reached the river, Mark wasted no time tugging at his shoes before splashing his way into the water and groaning at the cool feeling  of the mini waves against his toes. He splashed about, drawing you in with him. Johnny and Taeyong filled up the buckets with water. 

“We’re gonna head back before that fire gets out of hand,” yelled Johnny as the two boys turned away, leaving you and Mark alone.

“You’re in trouble now,” Mark teased as he reached down and flicked water up from the stream all over you -- making you squeal as it seeped through your clothing. You returned his actions by kicking at the water below you as the two of you messed about like children. 

You hadn’t heard him at first but a dark figure by the edge of the river caught your eye as you froze. Mark, who had continued splashing you, stopped and followed your gaze. 

“Yuta hyung, you scared the shit out of me!” he said as he sighed a sigh of relief at the sight of his friend. 

Yuta stumbled slightly as he approached the two of you, words slurring ever so slightly as he called out “Mark, y/n is drunk. It’s too dangerous to play around in the river like this!”

Mark chuckled before responding, “She’s a big girl so there’s no need to coddle her.”

Yuta’s expression went cold as he walked into the water and grabbed you by the wrist. “That’s enough princess,” he warned -- clearly fed up with your antics. 

You opened up your mouth to speak but Yuta cut you off as he addressed Mark. 

“Fun’s over, baby. Go back and help the boys clean up. I’ll take care of her,” he said. Mark shrugged and stumbled out of the water before picking up his shoes and disappearing into the forest towards the campground. 

You stood frozen in front of Yuta. “Doyoung will be very upset if he finds out what you’ve been up to,” he scolded. You huffed -- suddenly feeling like a child who has being told off by their father. 

“I haven’t done anything wrong!” you insisted, still feeling warm from the amount of alcohol coursing through your body. You poked a finger into Yuta’s chest as you pouted your lips at him. 

“Y-you’re just jealous,” you taunted. 

“Of?” he asked.

“M-me and --” you began before you were rudely interrupted by Yuta’s deep and powerful laugh. What scared you was the fact that his laugh stopped just as fast as it started. 

He drew you close to him, squeezing your chin between his fingers as he hovered closely to your face. 

“Is that what you’ve been doing all night long? Trying to make me jealous?” he asked as his expression changed -- making him look very amused instead. You huffed again, shaking your way out of his grasp and making your way out of the water. It wasn’t until your feet were back on land that you realized how drunk you really were. 

The ground seemed to be rocking underneath you as you struggled to keep your balance. You stumbled, nearly falling over before becoming engulfed in Yuta’s arms. You tried not to throw up the contents of your stomach as he lifted you off the ground and into his arms. 

“You’re so annoying, you know that? And mean too,” you mumbled as you rested your head in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you carefully towards the campgrounds. 

“You’re no angel either. Don’t think i’ve forgotten about what you did to me earlier,” he whispered into your ear. His voice sent shivers down your spine as you recalled the mango incident. 

“Dang, what happened to her?” asked Taeyong as Yuta approached him and the rest of the boys as they cleaned up the final bits of the little party they had thrown. 

“Looks like Johnny’s juice finally hit her,” Yuta teased. Johnny smiled proudly knowing his creation was a hit. 

You finally arrived at Yuta’s tent and he carried you all the way inside before putting you down and holding you at your shoulders to ensure that you were steady enough to stand on your own. 

“Shit, I’m soaked,” you mumbled to yourself as you pulled at your shirt, growing uncomfortable with the feeling of the wet fabric against your skin. 

Yuta rummaged around in his tent before pulling out a dry shirt for you to put on. He passed it to you before ducking out of the tent to let you change. He waited before you poked your head out, and carried your wet clothing with you to hang outside to dry, still drunk and giggly. 

Yuta watched as you hung your shirt, and pants but went wide eyed when he saw you hang up a pair of panties as well. His cheeks flushed pink as he unconsciously allowed his eyes to run over your body, noticing the way the fabric would momentarily cling to the parts of your body as you moved making it very evident that you were in fact naked underneath it. 

He ducked back into the tent as he stripped down to change as well. He had just put his shorts, still shirtless, when you pushed through the opening of the tent. You clambered across the mattress and fell back with a deep sigh. Yuta lowered himself down to climb into bed next to you. “Get some rest, I’m taking you home tomorrow,” he said. “I don’t wanna leave,” you groaned as you stretched your arm across his body and rested your head on his chest like the night before. Yuta naturally let his arm circle around your body as if you slept like this together all the time. You started to drift off to sleep, feeling the rise and fall of Yuta’s chest and his fingers combing softly through your hair. You didn’t expect any of this to happen but you were grateful. The cold girl that walked through the compound and kept to herself was gaining some warmth again. She smiled more, and giggled, and felt less lonely outside of her isolated town. You couldn’t help but hear the words of the compound children echoing in your mind as you finally fell asleep -- “I heard if you go far enough west, you’ll find a better place to live.”

Let me know if you want a part 2! <3

[c-optimistic]

Happy prompt: the Danvers sisters discovering the joy of couch cuddles, and how they perfected the art over the years?

The first time was out of pity.

Kara had only been on Earth for a measly few months, and school was decidedly not going well. The humans made fun of the way she talked, the careful way she walked, how she jumped at noises no one else could hear, how she locked herself in the restroom during lunch to avoid the crowds. Eliza and Jeremiah assured her it would get better over time, had given Alex a look (as if blaming her for the actions of Kara’s classmates), and then offered Kara an extra hour of television that night (as if hoping a Star Trek re-run would get Kara’s mind off her dread at going back to school the next day).

Alex stared at Kara from the other end of the couch, looking terribly uncertain. Her fingers twitched, as if she wanted to reach out or maybe click off the television or (more likely) maybe point an accusing finger at Kara and blame her for Eliza and Jeremiah’s quiet disappointment. Kara turned her head, looking away from Spock and Captain Kirk and all the inaccuracies of human imagination, and focused her eyes on Alex.

“They shouldn’t have done that,” Alex blurted after a moment, turning to stare at her lap. Her fingers twitched some more.

“Who should not have done what?” Kara asked, adjusting her glasses and tilting her head slightly to the side. She wasn’t quite good at controlling her powers yet, so along with Alex’s unsteady heartbeat, its hard pounding, she could also hear the rush of blood, the scratching of joint and bone as Alex continued to fidget. A part of Kara—an unfortunately significant part of Kara—worried that Alex was about to blame her.

“The kids at school,” Alex clarified, meeting Kara’s eyes. For the first time, there was something other than impatience and annoyance in them. There was a lot of pity—too much for Kara’s liking—but something else. Something softer, something familiar.

(She thought it was reminiscent of the way Eliza or Jeremiah looked at her.

The way her own parents looked at her back on Krypton.

Warm. Familial.)

“I am...different,” Kara said, frowning. “Your species doesn’t like those who are different.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, shifting on the couch so that she was sitting right next to Kara. After a moment's hesitation, she grabbed Kara’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Humans are an unevolved species, I think. We have really bad tendencies.”

“And good ones, too,” Kara offered, trying to mollify Alex. She gestured towards the television. “You humans are creative. Funny. Kind, when you want to be. And you’re a young species, with a yellow sun. You have so much to learn.”

Alex squeezed Kara’s hand again. “You don’t have to worry about those kids anymore,” she said, her eyes taking on a dangerous glint. “I had a talk with them.” Kara blinked, realizing talk wasn’t the word Alex had in mind, only then noticing the scattering of bruises on her knuckles.

“You—” Kara stopped, frowning. “Why would you hurt yourself for me?” 

“What are sisters for?” Alex asked, shrugging easily. Then, while Kara was still struggling to catch up, to come to terms with the easy way Alex had finally offered her acceptance, Alex shifted and put an arm around Kara’s shoulder. 

“W-what’s this?” Kara asked, pressing awkwardly against Alex, knowing her elbow was digging into Alex’s side, their legs uncomfortably stiff. 

“Well, it’s supposed to be a hug.” Alex sounded vaguely amused, and didn’t move even though Kara knew she couldn’t have liked their hug. “Let’s make it a thing, yeah? You and me, whenever something happens. Ice cream, shitty television, and unlimited couch cuddles. A...sister night.” 

Kara leaned into Alex’s one armed hug, her so-called couch cuddle, and she grinned. “Sister night,” she repeated, watching Star Trek cut to commercial. “Ice cream, cuddles, and shitty television sounds good.” 

From where she’d just passed by, Eliza shouted language! but Kara’s focus was on Alex, who was nodding somberly in agreement. 

Alex. Her sister. 

x

The hundredth or so time came when Alex was supposed to leave for college. 

They were in their living room, where they sat and cried together after Jeremiah died, where Alex talked about her dates with a lackluster tone, where Kara discovered her love for potstickers. 

Tonight, they were watching The Princess Bride for the thousandth time, Alex mouthing all of Inigo’s lines, making Kara laugh. They were sitting right next to each other on the couch, Kara with her legs curled under her, Alex with one leg propped up on the coffee table and the other pulled up to her chest. Their arms were linked, Alex’s head on Kara’s shoulder. An empty pint of ice cream sat on the floor in front of them.

“This is the best movie,” Kara said as Westley fought the Rodent of Unusual Size. “But I never understood why Buttercup just stands there for most of the fight. Surely she could do something.” 

“Kara, she’s a princess. Obviously she’s not supposed to do anything. How else would she know Westley’s love is true?” Alex said sarcastically. 

“I would do something,” Kara complained.

“You also have super powers. I don’t know if that’s fair.” 

“National City is really far away,” Kara muttered, getting to the point of their sister night. Alex sighed and pulled away, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and pausing the movie.

“I know it is,” she said, sounding contrite. “And it’s not forever. You know that.” 

“What about Sister Nights?” Kara asked, glaring at Alex now. She was leaving, abandoning her. And for something as silly as college? Kara could teach her everything she wanted to know herself. Earth was, after all, fairly primitive. If wondrous. 

“They’re not going anywhere, Kara. We’ll have Sister Nights when you visit, when I come home, when you eventually go to NCU. This little thing can’t get in the way of the Danvers Sisters.”

“I could just fly over and see you.” 

Alex fixed Kara with an unimpressed look. “No, you can’t.”

“I meant in an airplane, what were you thinking?” 

Alex laughed, though her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Kara knew she could expect frequent phone calls to the landline in the near future, Alex making sure she was safe and at home and definitely not using her powers.

(A side effect of having a sister, Kara learned, was that she’d protect you from anything—even, and especially, from yourself.) 

“You know,” Alex said a long time later, when Kara was leaning on her shoulder, comfortable enough and close enough to Alex that she was okay with the casual contact—with their shoulders pressed together, heads close. “One day, we might be too old to have Sister Nights.”

Kara scoffed. “Never. Even when we’re old and grey, Alex Danvers, we’re having ice cream, shitty television, and cuddles.” 

x

At some point, Kara lost count of their Sister Nights. 

(There were years and years of them. After first dates, after heartbreaks, after deaths, after weddings, after every tiny life thing and every big life thing.

Through it all, a constant. Her sister, Alex, and her sister’s first promise, faithfully kept: ice cream, shitty television, and cuddles.) 

This time, they were both sore: Kara from having to chase an alien around all day, nearly blowing out her powers, and Alex from chasing Kara around. Alex handed over a beer and took a sip of her own before settling on the couch next to Kara. 

There was an ease to their movements now, a practiced sort of muscle memory. Kara always sat to Alex’s right. They’d always start with Alex’s head on Kara’s shoulder, then would switch. They’d always hook arms, shoulders pressed tightly together. They’d always eventually put away the alcohol and the ice cream, pause the movie they were watching, and would just talk. 

It was routine. A comfort. A thing that the others learned they could never intrude on—not even wives or kids were allowed in on Sister Night. 

“Kelly wants to try private school. But I don’t. Public schools are good, great even. You and I turned out okay.”

“You’re a secret genius and I’m an alien whose people were highly advanced. I don’t know if we’re exactly the shining examples of a public school education.”

“Plenty of people went to public school and did just fine.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Kara said, handing over the ice cream and setting her beer aside. “Just that maybe you need to talk to your wife about what school you want to send your kid.” Kara shot Alex a look, raising her eyebrow like Lena taught her. “Your daughter is also only two. I don’t know why this is a thing right now.” 

“Sure, take Kelly’s side,” Alex joked, rolling her eyes. “I can’t wait till you and Lena have kids and I can make fun of you panicking over everything. Lena,” Alex said, putting on an affected voice, clearly trying to imitate Kara, “what if they have powers like Clark’s kids? Lena, please let me teach them how to fly. Lena—”

“—joke’s on you, Lena has already said I can teach our kids to fly. As long as she’s the only who handles bedtime stories. Apparently, no Princess Bride.” 

“Fair. We may watch that movie too much.” 

“It’s a classic.” 

Alex hummed in agreement, shifting slightly so that Kara could rest her head on her shoulder. “We should retire from the saving the world business,” Alex said, groaning as Kara got comfortable, accidentally jostling Alex and exacerbating her soreness. 

“The world would fall apart without us,” Kara said. 

“Very fair. The Danvers Sisters—”

“—we should come with a warning,” Kara finished, grinning widely. She felt Alex tug on her arm, pulling her into a comfortable side hug, and her eyes slowly shut. “Thank you, by the way. For being there with me every step of the way today. I know you’ve been pulling back from the field for Kelly and your daughter.” 

Alex hummed again, this time just indicating she’d heard. She tightened the hug. “What are sisters for?” she asked. 

Kara grinned. Nearly two decades later, Alex. Her sister. 

[prismatales]

Phonecall

Anon asked: Hi I was wondering if I could request an ~angsty~ fic where Todo finds out his s/o got severely injured in a fight, since they intern under a pro hero?

OOoooh! My first Angsty request! Let's see how this turns out! *cracks knuckles* Since you didn't specify the pronouns I'm going for a gender neutral character.

The mission had been a success, or so had everyone thought the moment the Pros, sidekicks and interns -including you- had finally apprehended all members of the Hallow Brotherhood, one of the most dangerous organizations to be known in the underground all over Japan.

The outcome of the raid had been expected, the organization's dealings with the black market, human trafficking and drugs dealings had been discovered and dealt with, ending their vicious rule once an for all.

Unfortunately success always comes with a price.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye, the mission was supposed to go effortlessly, that was the sole reason only a few sidekicks and you had been sent to a reckon mission during the raid on the other side of the building, for an operation which was meant to be done in a matter of minutes:

Scout the perimeter, find as much additional evidence you could about the organization; Their leaders, suppliers and connections all around the black market and go back to the meeting point in three hours...Easy, right?

But nothing's simple when it comes to success and hero work, your team found out the hard way...

...

To say Todoroki was worried was but a mere minimization of his current emotions, he was shaking from anxiety, he had been on edge since you started the internship and were called to assist with this mission. While Midoriya, Kirishima, Tsuyu and Uraraka were on their own assignment, you had been requested by another group of Pros, alongside Setsuna Tokage from class 1-B for a different operation, but still as top secret and high-priority as theirs.

After their run in with Stain in Hosu, Todoroki didn't hear the end of it from his s/o, the moment he stepped inside the classroom. The agitated look in their eyes made it crystal clear that (Y/N) had been worried sick the instant the news of the hero killer injuring three students of U.A. had been released to the public.

Yes, hero work was not and would never be a walk in the park, someone was always bound to get hurt, everybody knew that, and yet it didn't pacify your nerves after hearing about your boyfriend and friend's altercation with one of the most dangerous villains in Japan.

An agreement had been made between you both, now matter what you were doing; training, exams, internships, official hero work once you graduated, you'd always call each other as soon as the mission was over.

"Promise me you'll call?"

He remembered those puppy eyes and that pout he just couldn't bring himself to refuse, of course he wasn't going to say no to begin with. Gently grabbing your hands and kissing the knuckles softly, Todoroki let out a reassuring smile that helped calm down the small pit of concern growing inside your stomach.

"I promise"

That was months ago, and he remembered every single time you both called each other if anything happened.

The time of the training camp? You were the first one to call him in the middle of the attack to make sure he was fine.

When he followed Midoriya and the other to rescue Bakugo? He called you once everyone was safe and sound.

Your very first day on patrol during your current internship? He got a call as soon as you were done and back at the agency.

And yet he couldn't stop the uneasiness slowly accumulating inside of him, you said the mission would take long, but he never thought it would be this long. The air around him was tense, anyone that got close enough to him could sense the suffocating feeling inside the dorm.

Iida was the first one to approach, placing a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder in hopes of helping calm down the heterochromatic guy's nerves.

"Todoroki, I understand that you're worried but remember, (Y/N) is quite a competent hero, there's no reason to be worried about" His hand moved on its own, making his signature gestures as he attempted to help his classmate and close friend.

Nobody was prepared to hear Mina gasp from her spot on the tables were she and the girls were studying together. Her hands covered her mouth in horror at the scene that appeared on her laptop. The others quickly went to see what had left the pink haired girl in a state of dread.

Their reaction varying from horror to shock, but the one feeling everyone shared in that moment along with the silence was the unease to look back at Todoroki, whom seemed to realize something was terribly wrong.

"What happened?" he walked up to their spot, noticing some of his classmates didn't really wanted to answer him, more than one actually trying to take the laptop away before he could catch sight of the screen. It was Momo who started talking to him.

"Todoroki-san...you might want to sit down first" she asked before he could get closer, concern on her features as everyone looked at him worriedly. He only squinted at everyone in the room before approaching to see what had rilled everyone up.

Someone had streamed the aftermath of a fight, it was the city where you had gone for the internship. The scenario was like the apocalypse had occurred.

A building had exploded, the pros were rescuing people caught in the explosion, paramedics had been called in order to help. The sound of screaming and cries could be heard all around the footage as people were being rescued from debris, unfortunately some people didn't made it.

That's when they saw an agitated Tokage hugging herself in the background, body covered in dirt and bruises as she talked to the Pro you were working with, she was shaking as the both gazed upon something laid before their feet, something that left Shoto so distressed he unconsciously activated his flames.

Even from afar the sight of a body covered by a sheet was visible with a stain of blood nearly soaking the fabric. His legs nearly gave up on him and the voices of his friends became static.

That couldn't be (Y/N), you said you'd be careful...it couldn't be you!

All of the memories of you and him together came back to mind...The day you guys awkwardly confessed to eachother at the same time, the day you met his mother, the mess the both of you had made in the kitchen the first time you tried to make homemade soba.

"We found another one!" Someone's voice cried loudly in the video, causing him to slowly look up at the screen, and his breath got caught in his throat when he realized the person being carried in a stretcher was his (Y/N).

You were alright....You were alright!....right?

That's what he wanted to believe, but the sight of your battered body, and the wound on your abdomen that slowly soaked the front of your costume with blood made the paranoia overpower his senses as he saw the ambulance take you away as quickly as they could.

Accordingly to the time the video was recorded everything happened nearly 30 minutes ago, that meant you were already at the hospital. He wouldn't just stay there and wait, he was going to see you, no matter what.

......

"We managed to stabilize them just in time, had they arrived a minute later I don't think we could have done anything" The doctor informed your parents, Shoto had run into them when he arrived to the hospital. Your mother had been hysteric while she was comforted by your father, until Todoroki arrived and she saw him, quickly embracing the boy in a tight grip and thanking him for coming to see you. Todoroki slowly embraced the older woman back.

That's when the doctor walked out of the room and gave a final explanation. Mentioning it would take a while for you to go back to normal, Recovery girl could help speed up the healing process, but you'd still need some time to rest before doing any physical effort.

"You may go inside to see them but I would suggest only two people should at a time"

It was a relief for everyone they moment the doctor mentioned you were already out of danger, Shoto and your parents nearly fell on the floor at the reassurance that everything would be alright.

He wanted to see you, he really wanted to...but seeing the look on your parent's faces...would it be selfish if he asked to see you first? It was like they knew what he was thinking because you mother smiled sweetly at him, the fear in her eyes long forgotten.

"You should see them first Shoto, we can go in later so don't worry about us" her words left him quiet for a minute, until he finally nodded gratefully before opening the door of your room. You were laying in bed in such a relaxed manner that if it wasn't for the bandages covering the right side of your face and the ones peaking out from the top of hospital gown it would seem like you were just taking a nap.

Silence filled the room except for the soft noise of your breathing, Todoroki quietly pulled a chair to sit besides the bed, he couldn't be thankful enough as he softly grabbed one of your hands and brought it closer to lay his face on the soft skin.

"Don't ever scare me like that again (Y/N)..." He didn't notice as your eyes slowly fluttered open or the way you looked at him with a confused expression.

"...Shoto...?"

It wasn't his imagination, was it? did he just hear you talk?

His face quickly turning up made him realize it was not a dream, there you were looking at him with a tired smile on your features, the hand he had been holding slowly caressed his cheek with a warm touch he just couldn't help but get addicted to.

"Hey...sorry I couldn't call you right away"

Todoroki couldn't help himself from leaning towards your touch with a broken laugh, even near the brink of death you still kept thinking about your promise.

"It's alright" He gripped the hand still caressing his cheek "All that matters is that you're safe"

That day he made a promise. He'd become a hero that would always be there to protect you. A hero that would keep everybody safe.

I hope you guys enjoy my first attempt on angst!

MASTERLIST

@t-amajiki @undead0relived @shoobirino @godtieruwu @bnha-ra @mysticalite

[verai-marcel]

The Things That We Could Be (Charles x F!Reader, Biker AU, 18+, 1 of 3)

Summary: You’re a freelance writer, trying to bust into the world of journalism. While the local paper gives you a few assignments here and there, you’re looking to catch a big break. When you start sniffing around one of the local motorcycle clubs, you find more than you can handle, and it leads you to discovering secrets about the owner of your favorite cafe, a man with warm brown eyes and the kindest smile.

Author’s Notes: This story has been in my head for a while. Hope you like it. Also disclaimer: I did some light research on motorcycle clubs, but I really don’t know a whole lot about them, so this may come off as pretty generic. That’s fine, we’re here for the Charles smut, amirite? Also, can you guess what song I took the title of this fic from?

Tags: plot, drama, violence, cheesy 80s vibe, bathroom sex, doggy style, smut, romance

AO3 Link is here, sweetie.

Word Count: 2567

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

Chapter 1 - New Girl in Town

“C’mere Natasha,” you cooed at the calico cat that had walked towards you as soon as you had entered the cat area of Crafty Cats. This cat café was your haven, your home away from home, ever since you had moved to this area two months ago. Pursuing your career of news journalism, you worked for a local paper, hoping to get enough experience to break news left and right. It was the hunt for the story that drove you; the search for truth kept you going even when your boss cut your articles time and again. You dreamed of one day crafting the words that would move hearts around the world. 

But for now, with your crushing student debt, you settled for any job that would keep you afloat. Even though this town was small and relatively quiet, there were still stories to be told. Pulling out your laptop, you started typing away as Natasha leapt into your lap, curled herself into a ball, and purred loudly. Patting her absentmindedly as you hemmed and hawed over your word choices, a soft chime of the bells tied to the door heralded another visitor. 

"Your hour is almost up."

You looked up at Charles, the owner of the café. His long black hair was loosely tied up in a queue, but shaved on either side of his head. Tendrils too short to be tied back fell around his face, framing a strong jaw and a gentle smile. 

And that voice? Ooh, it was like sinking into a hot bath. You could listen to him talk all day. 

Unable to stop yourself, you pouted. "Already? It feels like I just got here."

Charles laughed softly before looking through the large window that separated the cat area from the café. Then he turned to you and placed a finger to his lips, winking at you. 

"Maybe you still have another thirty minutes left," he said with a smile. "I won't tell anyone if you won't."

You grinned. "You're the best, Charles."

He just shyly shrugged as he began to reach down toward Natasha. He paused, looking at you for permission to get closer. "May I?" 

"Of course," you said, leaning back to give him room. He gently pet Natasha's head, a smile on his face as she lifted her head to rub against his palm. 

You envied the cat so much at that moment. 

With Charles so close, you could see the profile of his face, so beautiful to you, and the lines of scars on his cheek and jawline told a story that filled you with a burning curiosity. You wanted to ask, but you also got the feeling that it would be overstepping some boundary and the warm aura that surrounded him would disappear.

So you swallowed your questions and continued to watch him pet Natasha for a few more moments. When he got up, he looked at you, almost as if he was going to pet you next. Or maybe it was just you projecting your fantasies onto him. He walked away, heading out the door and entering the cafe again. You looked through the window and watched him talk to the barista who was working at the bar, and then he headed through the back door, presumably to do manager things.

You turned back to your laptop. He had given you an extra 30 minutes. Better make them count.

***

“I thought you quit smokin’.”

Charles shrugged as Arthur came up to stand next to him, leaning against the back wall of the cat café. It had been a long day, and even though he rarely smoked anymore, today just seemed like that kind of day. He took a long drag, blowing out the smoke slowly as he looked up at the crimson sky.

“Who’s the girl?”

Charles turned to look at Arthur, an eyebrow raised incredulously. “How’d you know?”

Arthur chuckled. “You used to smoke a lot whenever you had your eye on someone.”

Charles let out a short laugh. “Am I that easy to read?”

“Nah, I’ve just known you long enough.”

Charles smiled as he put out the rest of his cigarette. “She’s a writer. Watching her work in my café… It’s nice.”

“You goin’ to make a move then?”

Charles turned to him, a wry grin on his face. “I’m not letting this one get away.”

***

You were packing up your laptop just as you saw Charles and another man come through the back door. It was sunset on a Saturday, and Charles always shut the cafe down early on Saturday nights to give him and his barista a break. Spotting the barista grin as she saw the other man, you were suddenly intrigued by the way they looked at each other, a heat to their grins as she reached for him, pulling him close. He kissed her forehead gently, his head tilting to one side slightly to gaze at her, and you felt as if you were watching a much more intimate moment. Heat flooded your cheeks as you quickly looked away, continuing to pack.

Once you had everything put away in your laptop bag, you moved to get up, but a small paw attached itself to your leg.

“Sorry Nattie, I can’t stay.”

The calico meowed and dug her claws in.

The door opened and closed. You could hear Charles laughing softly. “She really likes you.”

You managed to pry Natasha’s claws out of your pants and stepped out of the way before she batted at you again. “I’d adopt her if I could, but my apartment doesn’t allow pets.”

Charles nodded. “I understand. Arthur over there is in the same situation,” he said, nodding towards the man who was now holding the door for the barista as they exited the cafe. Arthur looked up and waved goodbye with two fingers as Charles waved back the same way.

He looked back at you. “If you ever move into an apartment that can have pets, you’ll have to fight him for her,” he joked. “Natasha only likes the two of us and Arthur.”

Your shoulders sank. You were stuck in a 6 month lease for the only place you could afford, a dinky studio apartment in the next town over. “It’ll be a long time before I can move,” you lamented.

Charles stepped closer to you. His concern was pouring out in waves; when you had told him during a previous visit about where you lived, he had immediately told you to go home while the sun was still out. You were still trying to figure out what places were safe and what places weren’t, and when he had talked about how the motorcycle club in that area had a tendency to harass new people to the town, you started to keep up your guard and to play it safe, getting home before dark and locking the door. So far, so good.

But you were also curious about this motorcycle club; were they really as bad as Charles said they were? He was just a cafe owner, what would he know about this? Had they threatened him in the past?

Your train of thought stopped when he placed his hand on your shoulder. His warmth was inviting, his touch was gentle. You wondered for a split second how it would feel to have his hands all over your body.

“Charles?”

“Just… stay safe, alright?” He looked away for a moment, thinking over something before looking back at you. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Alright,” you said, a little breathy. “Thank you.”

As if your heartbeat wasn’t erratic before, the smile that bloomed on his face made your cheeks warm and your breath quicken. You nodded at him and headed for the door, trying to hide how he was making you feel.

But as you walked past him, his hand brushed the small of your back, and he quickly caught up with you so he could hold the door open like a gentleman. “See you tomorrow?”

You smiled. “Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

***

Back at your place, you took a deep breath. You were going to do this. You were going to start investigating the local motorcycle club.

***

A week had passed. While you were churning out articles for websites and the local paper, you were also asking around about the MC. Most people just knew to steer clear of them, that if you  didn’t bother them, they didn’t bother you. Some suggested you stop investigating them, to stop sticking your nose where it shouldn’t go. But of course, you couldn’t do that. You wanted to know what they were about, what was their motive. 

Some men wanted power & money. Others just wanted to watch the world burn.

You were hoping it wasn’t the latter. 

***

A banging on your door woke you up late at night. Startled, you grabbed the metal baseball bat near your bed and slowly walked towards the door, only for it to suddenly burst open. 

Three big, burly men poured into your doorway, the light outside making their silhouettes even larger.

“Heard you been askin’ about us.”

You swallowed.

One of them walked up to you. You swung your bat.

He dodged it and grabbed it, pulling it easily from your grip. “We don’t want to hurt you, baby. Unless you keep asking about us.”

“Why?” you asked. It was the first thing out of your mouth, and once you asked, the rest came out. “Why is this town so afraid of you?”

One of the other men stepped forward and grabbed you by the throat as you tried to step away. You clawed at his arm, but he was strong as steel, his fingers digging into your neck.

“We don’t owe you an explanation, lady,” he said. “Stop askin’ about us.”

“Or else,” the third man threatened.

You hated being told what to do. But you saw the danger in your situation. You clamped down on your urge to question them. It’d be hard to write a news story if you were in a hospital. Or dead.

So you kept your mouth shut and stared them down.

“You goin’ to stop?”

You nodded, just to get him to let you go.

The man let you go, pushing you backwards with a hard shove. You staggered back, but stayed on your feet.

“Don’t think about calling the cops,” the leader said, taking a practice swing with your bat. “They can’t protect you all the time.”

Then he swung the bat into your TV, smashing it into bits. Tossing the bat onto the ground, he and others laughed as they walked out the door and into the cold, dark night. As they left, you caught the symbol on their jackets: in large letters, ODB written across the top, with a green skull inside of a four-leaf clover below it. The letters MC were on the right of the symbol. 

It was the O’Driscoll Boys.

You fell to your knees, shaken and scared, but also filled with an all-encompassing anger, burning-hot and laced with frustration.

You had a feeling you weren’t the only one who had dealt with this. And you also had a feeling that you couldn’t stay here while you investigated further. As if this was going to stop you.

You just had to find another way.

***

You stared at apartment listings, trying to figure out a new place to stay. Unfortunately, so many things were outside of your budget. Maybe if you skipped a meal every other day?

“Tell me what happened.”

You blinked and looked at Charles, who had managed to sit next to you without you realizing. You were so deep into your house hunt that you hadn’t paid attention to what was around you. Perhaps it was because you felt safe here.

Perhaps it was because Charles was here that you felt safe.

He slowly reached for you, his fingers touching your shoulder. “Who hurt you?” he asked, gentler this time.

You reached up to your throat; your scarf had slipped down a bit, revealing the bruises around your neck. Looking down, you answered him in a soft voice. “The ODB MC.”

“Fuck.”

You looked up quickly. He had spoken with such hard anger that you were surprised to hear it from him.

You took a deep breath and told him what had happened last night.

At the end of your story, he took your hand in his big ones, making you feel small, but protected in his grasp.

“Do you have a friend you can stay with? You can’t stay there, it isn’t safe.”

You shrugged. “Not really.” The few friends you had lived far away. Family was far away too. You were stuck.

He squeezed your hand. “Stay with me. I can sleep on the couch, but I’ll sleep better knowing you’re safe.”

You blinked. He was offering his room for you? “Charles, I couldn't impose—”

“You wouldn’t be imposing. Please.”

Looking at his serious face, you nodded, accepting his offer. You had the feeling that if you refused, he was going to pick you up right there and then and keep you in his room anyway. There was an intensity to his protectiveness that stirred your heart, made you want him to lock you away.

He smiled. “Thank you. I’ll help you when you’re done here.”

***

That afternoon, he had his barista hold down the fort while he helped you pack up some of your essentials; you weren’t planning on staying with him for more than a week, but he let you know that you were welcome to stay for as long as you needed to. 

You had told your landlord that your place had been broken into and that the lock would need to be fixed. When he saw your bashed-in TV, he said nothing, solidifying your theory that he had turned a blind eye to the MC when they had walked through here. He knew, and he wasn’t going to do anything about it, which pissed you off even more.

***

Charles carried your two duffel bags full of your stuff up the stairs in the back of the cafe to his apartment. On the way to his place, he had told you a little more about the downtown area where he and his friends lived and worked. One of his friends, John, was happily married with a daughter and owned a flower shop close to the clock tower that served as the town center. His other friend, Arthur, worked at the local tattoo shop, but lived elsewhere. A lot of the businesses in the renovated part of downtown were live-work spaces, so Charles had his little loft apartment above his cafe.

“Makes the commute pretty nice,” you remarked as you followed him up the stairs.

“Yup. Have to be sure to at least put a shirt on though, or I get yelled at,” he said with a laugh. He had mentioned his barista was like a little sister to him, and that he was lucky to have her. He mentioned having put the idea in her head to go out with Arthur, and was happy they had gotten together. You wondered at his observation skills, to see to the heart of someone and what would make them happy.

Would you make me happy?

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

Chapter 2 is next!

Tagging @mrscharlessmith @fangirl-ramblings @eeeasyguuurl

[lilsciencequeen]

Relationship: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons

Characters: Leo Fitz, Jemma Simmons

Summary:  “Jemma,” he whispered when she had shown up at his apartment that night. “What happened?” “They kicked me out,” she told him, stepping over the threshold and collapsing into his embrace as her knees buckled. “They kicked me out.” Sinking to the ground with her, he let her curl against him on the floor, his back against the wall as she sobbed. He knew that she had never gotten on with her family, that despite the environment she was raised in, she never agreed with the beliefs that they had about blood purity and who should be allowed to learn the art of magic.

Additional Tags: Parents, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Angst, Minor Injuries, Blood, Hopeful Ending, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Minor Character Death. Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death

Read on AO3 or read below

Her father had never slapped her before.

He had been emotionally abusive.

He had spent years tormenting her, telling her that she would never be good enough, that she would never be like her sisters, both older and younger.

But he had never hit her.

Not once.

Not until tonight.

She hadn’t meant for Bella to find the letters. She had always made sure she hid them, locked them away so that no one would ever find them. But tonight - it had been a simple mistake, one slip up that was going to cost her everything.

She had been reading the most recent one when Bella had come barging into the room, flashing a brand new engagement ring that probably cost more than she had in her bank account at that moment in time, elated that she was now to be wed to probably one of the most powerful and influence wizard families that there was. But to Jemma, this had been a shock. Bella wasn’t supposed to be home, not this early anyway. And her door shouldn’t have been unlocked. She always kept it locked.

Always. It had been a foolish mistake, thinking that it would be safe to keep it unlocked. As when her older sister had caught sight of the letters, she went to grab them and Jemma wasn’t quick enough to get there before her. And upon seeing them, all joy from getting engaged had vanished as there was something much more interesting happening to her now.

“It’s him, isn’t it? The Mudblood ?” She was rifling through the letters, scanning them as quickly as she could and trying to take in as many words as she could. Trying to work out why her younger sister had been oh so secretive all summer. And then she saw it.

Saw his words of love.

All of his secrets.

She saw his promises that he would get her away from here, away from her family.

Somewhere where she could be happy and away from the icy grip of her father.

And now Bella had seen all of that. “You love him. That one from your year. Fitz." From the tone of her voice, she sounded shocked and disgusted, even struggling to speak Fitz’s name. "The one that you spent all that time with... So that's what you were doing with him... You had fallen in love.”  And it was in that moment that Jemma knew that she would be in so much trouble. That things in her life could go from bad to worse. Especially if...

“Father is going to be so disappointed.”

“Please,” Jemma begged, grabbing the sheets because she shouldn’t be fighting for the letters like she was a child. She was eighteen. She was an adult who had graduated a handful of months before and now she was like a scared child, worried about what her older sister would tell her father. “Don’t tell him.”

But it was no use for her sister had already taken the letters and left her room, the creaking of the stairs betraying where her sister was going.

And it was only moments later that her father was bellowing her name, demanding that she come downstairs, and slowly she dragged herself from where she had been curled up on the bed and made her way downstairs.

She had wiped the tears from her face as she had walked, as slowly as she could get away with so that when she finally arrived in the drawing-room, head bowed, she looked at least presentable. Her father was rifling through the letters, a disgusted look. “What is the meaning of this? Is this the boy? Fitz? The one who was the head boy?”

She nodded but the gesture was so subtle it would have been easy to miss. She remembered how proud her father had been when she had gotten head girl, something that was short-lived when it was discovered that Fitz was head boy.

And it was during those days that she had gotten closer to Fitz, these days that they had hidden away and wasted time with each other whenever there was time to waste. Kisses had been stolen, and late-night dates shared. He respected her need to keep their relationship private and now because of one simple mistake things were all going to fall apart.

“You love him?” he had asked her, his voice level but full of malice. “You love this boy?”

At first, she hadn’t answered, knowing that anything that she said would be the wrong thing but it seemed as though even remaining silent was the wrong thing to do. “Do you love him? Answer me!” Her father had snapped then, the last threads of his restraint breaking. And at first, she didn’t even realise he had slapped her, it was only in the moments after when she had stumbled into the china cabinet with her face on fire that she knew what had happened.

That her father had hit her.

It shocked her.

Horrified her.

That her father would ever do something like this to her.

But then as her mind cleared, as the stars floating in front of her vanished, the reality of what was happening started to dawn on her. She wasn’t part of this family, not really. Their beliefs were ones that she refused to share but with this… it would be a step too far. At least in his eyes.

He would rather her dead than marry a Muggleborn.

“Do you love him?”

And she nodded, knowing that whatever she said would be wrong, that her father would take his anger out on her once again. His eyes were cold, he was no longer her father, a man she wished she could describe as loving, but knowing if she did she would be lying to herself. No, now he was just one of the members of an ancient house, who was more worried about the purity of blood than most other things.

“You love him?”

She nodded again, and things went from bad to worse. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her in close. “You’re no daughter of mine,” he hissed the words as he pushed her back, and she stumbled once more into the china cabinet, this time hitting it in such a way that she fell to the floor. Several plates fell, shattering as they hit both the ground and Jemma. One managed to catch her hairline, the sharp shard tearing at her skin. It didn’t take long before she felt it, sticky and warm against her skin - blood was snaking down her forehead before dropping onto her mother’s vintage rug. She tried not to cry, tried not to give her father what he wanted, but the shaky sob that escaped her was the one that betrayed her.

“I want you out of here. Now.” The words from her father were a demand, and she knew that there was no use arguing.

She would never win against her father.

“If you want to be with someone like him, then you can be with someone like him.” He threw the letters into the fire, the flames eating away at the parchment. “Pack what you want, and then I never want to see you again.” Turning on his heel, he left the room without another word, and not even mourning the loss of one of his daughters. Because she was no longer his daughter, not anymore.

In desperation, she looked at her mother, and at her sister both of whom had looks, she did not want to see. Her mother looked ashamed and wouldn’t even meet her eye whilst her sister looked proud and smug as if getting her disinherited had been something that she wanted.

***

“Jemma,” he whispered when she had shown up at his apartment that night. “What happened?”

“They kicked me out,” she told him, stepping over the threshold and collapsing into his embrace as her knees buckled. “They kicked me out.”

Sinking to the ground with her, he let her curl against him on the floor, his back against the wall as she sobbed. He knew that she had never gotten on with her family, that despite the environment she was raised in, she never agreed with the beliefs that they had about blood purity and who should be allowed to learn the art of magic. He knew her father was abusive, favouring her sisters over her.

He had had a feeling that one day, potentially, a situation like this would occur. That their relationship would be known to her family. But he hadn’t expected her to show up like this, bruised and bloodied, sobbing on his floor. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her in closer, pressing gentle kisses on the top of her head, wishing that he could take the pain away. Wishing that the hurt that she was experiencing was something that could be magicked away.

But it wasn't. And all that he could do for the time being was hold her, and for how long he didn't know. He just held her as she sobbed, allowing her to get all of her emotions out. “You can stay here. You’re always welcome here.”

“But what if I… I shouldn’t Fitz. What if I put you in danger? You don’t know what they’re like. What his followers are like.” A shudder ran through her at this thought. She had had the first-hand experience. She knew just how dangerous the world was. Just how much danger they were in.

Her sister had sworn loyalty to Hive, had worked her way up through the ranks and was now one of the highest-ranking followers there was.

Her younger sister though she wasn’t one herself, had fallen for someone who was. It made her just as bad. Just as guilty.

And her parents, well they had made their views clear.

“You won’t.” He stood up, offering her a hand and after thinking for a moment, cautious about taking such a friendly gesture but she did. “Now c’mon. Let’s have something to eat and then go to bed.”

***

“I have to leave,” she told him, packing her bags. It had been a handful of months now since she had fled to Fitz’s in the dead of the night. But after what had happened earlier that day,  “I can’t stay here Fitz. I’m so so sorry.”

“But… what she did, what happened to my mother isn’t your fault.”

“My sister murdered her.” Jemma’s voice was frantic and full of sheer panic. “She killed her because she can’t get to me! The longer that I stay with you, the more danger I put you in.”

“You can’t just leave.” He reached out and took hold of her wrist as she tried to leave the bedroom. “Jemma.” He turned so they were face to face. “You are not your sister. You aren’t like your family. This isn’t your fault.”

“But if you’d never met me, you wouldn't have fallen for me and your mother would still be alive and I can’t… I don’t know how I’m supposed to live with myself, knowing that her blood is on my hands." Jemma was all but begging at this point.

But Fitz thought otherwise and wasn't going to hear a word of it. “I know what your sister is like. Just how dangerous she is and not once do I blame you. I know how she tortured you, tormented you through school and not once did you stoop to her level. Not once did you behave as she did. And your family… fuck them.”  Jemma was breathing heavy, staring up at him. “You’re not them. You will never be like them. You’re… you’re one of the best people that I know. And I can't imagine my life without you, Jemma. I don't want to imagine my life without you. Because every day that I wake up beside you, every moment that I spend with you, they're the best moments that I have. The moments that I value the most Jemma. I love you."

The three words hung between them, and though this was not the first time they had ever been said, they seemed to mean more than before.

The seconds slowly ticked by before Jemma closed the distance between them, reaching up and placing one hand on his cheek.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, he returned the kiss. One that started off tender and gentle, but soon turned rough. Passionate.

Her hand moved from his cheek, running her hands through his curls. His own were on her waist, pulling her in closer, wanting to enjoy every moment of this. Wanting it to never end. The heat between them was hotter than it had ever been, and slowly her hands worked their way down to his shirt, undoing each of the buttons.

"The bedroom," she whispered when they pulled apart for the briefest of moments to catch their breath. "Please."

"Yeah, yeah," he responded, his words hanging in the air between them, a promise of what was to come.

And thought the night was wonderful, full of fiery passion when she awoke the next morning wrapped in his embrace, the tears from the night before were still clinging to her eyelashes.

***

“So what do we do now?” she asked him, nursing their daughter in her arms. The world was still at war. And with each day that passed, there were more disappearances, more murders. It was dangerous out there, and with the crime she had committed by marrying Fitz, by starting a family with him, she knew there was a bounty on their heads.

That they were in constant danger.

She knew that things wouldn’t be easy, not until Hive was defeated and there were still days that she was adamant she had made the wrong decision by staying. There were days that she thought that she should have snuck out in the middle of the night and ran.

Ran until she couldn't go any further.

But now with the birth of their daughter, that was something that could never be done. She had responsibilities. She couldn’t run away from her problems, not anymore. She was an adult. She had to face these problems head-on, whenever they might show themselves.

Fitz remained silent for a moment, unsure of how to answer because they were in danger, each and every day. After his mother’s murder, after she had been buried, Fitz had taken the two of them back to Hogwarts and demanded some form of protection for the two of them. Saying that with everything that had happened, they were at risk each and every day. Thankfully, it didn't take much to persuade Coulson.

And now they were hiding in a cottage in the Perthshire countryside, waiting for the war to be over. Coulson had told them that it was something he was working on, that by the end of the year, it would all be over. But he refused to say more than that, refused to tell him what the plan was and how it would be done.

So they tried to live the best they could, as ghosts to the world.

“I don’t know,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he tried to close the non-existent distance between them. “But whatever comes, next we’ll face it like we’ve faced everything before.”

“Together.”

[agrinsosardonic]

Unused CSB Chapter

Our third year attending Camp White Wolf in the Catskills. I was a shrimp approaching thirteen and my bones always hurt from growing. Sephiroth hit his first growth spurt and towered over me like one of the mountains that surround that camp. And no sooner did my parents pull away from us- not to be seen for six weeks- Sephiroth abandoned me for the older boys he made friends with last year. Leaving me alone. I expected it. I knew he would do this. A common thread, but it didn’t change the crushing rejection that I felt. That I carried on my shoulders as I grabbed my bag and found my cabin. 

My time there remains a blur. I remember the smell of the still lake later and wood wet with Summer. Bugs sang songs in whispering trees in between attacking my skin. The hot sun, humidity, that muffles the sounds of camp. The disturbed water from rowing. The shouts of competition. The mess hall and the static of conversations I could never find myself to become a part of. I sat alone. Strangled by my thoughts. My lack of self-esteem even though my braces had just come off. 

Your teeth look big now. 

Sephiroth had said. I ran my tongue over them instinctively every-time I remembered that comment. 

I never attempted to make friends in that place. All the boys just seemed so much more put together. And handsome. And I cringed every time that thought floated into my head. I wasn’t supposed to think that like; pinched my eyes shut and tried to think about anything else. Video games, or comic books. Horror movies were a great relief, because it’s fucking real hard to get a boner thinking about a girl getting sawed in half. Everything is ten times more difficult at thirteen. Body always tense with pain. My dick constantly tried to give me away. My brain just then started hearing that voice that whispers in the shadows- all the solutions to my problems. 

By the third day, I wanted to call my mom and beg her to pick me up. The boys in my cabin, often secretly led by Seph, decided I was an easy target and tortured me every morning. Traps I would step into like a fly to a web. And my best friend, the one my parents asked to watch me, nowhere to be found. Alone. The kind of alone that I can actually feel. Like I’m being crushed between two walls closing in- suffocating. No way out. 

Sat by the lake and thought about hurting myself for the first time. At the time, the thought seemed logical. Injure myself in a way that would get me sent home. Burn myself on a fire, or cut myself with a blade. In reflection, this was the first time I considered self-harm as an outlet. One I would end up returning to time and time again. But, then, twelve years and eleven months, pissed look etched upon my face while I thought about all the ways I could destroy myself, someone sat next to me with a loud hmph announcing his presence. 

Did the lake do something to piss you off?

I no longer can remember the sound of his voice.

But I had turned my head and saw him sitting next to me, knees up to his chest and arms listlessly draped over them. I recognized him from the previous years. His deep black hair wild like the forest at midnight. Blue eyes that glimmered like the moon. He wore the white camp shirt they gave us and black swim trunks. I knew his name. Zack Fair. But I had no idea why he decided to sit next to me.

Well?

I stuttered through my words, still not used to the absence of metal in my mouth. Uh, w-what?

You look like you’re about to fight the lake.

I brought my eyes back to the green and blue rocky body of water. Zack was two years older, just shy of his fifteenth birthday which would have him working at the camp as a Junior counselor, instead of a participant. We didn’t hang with the same group- well. I didn’t have a group. He did. And all I could think about was those friends lurking in the shadows waiting for my guard to drop so they could play a cruel prank on me.

You know, this lake sucks. He continued, it attacked me my first year here and I’m not over it!

He showed me his foot, by practically shoving it in my face so I could see the faded pink scar on the sole. Attacked by a rock! First week too. Never forgave it. So, if you’re trying to fight the lake, I got your back.

I cracked a smile. A small one but showed my teeth. And I remember the way he tilted his head. Like a puppy. You’re kinda cute when you smile. You should more often. You’ll have all the ladies chasing after you!

My stomach flipped.

Actually, that never happened before and I thought I was going to throw up and started getting nervous. But his smile, bright and comforting, kept me from fleeing to the coldness of my cabin. 

You’re Cloud, right? And I remember being shocked he knew my name. He revealed he was captain of the opposing Volleyball team in that afternoon’s game. Which saw my pathetic attempts at being useful in a sport rewarded with a ball to the face, the stomach, and somehow my legs much to the resentment of my teammates; who slung every vile slur they had learned in their young lives. 

I felt a wave of hot embarrassment. Tried to bury my face in my knees but he pressed on. Complimenting my attitude despite the failure. I shot pointed glares at my teammates and continued to play despite their displeasure with me. That takes balls, man he smiled. 

We sat together at the lake while the sun descended over the water casting a fiery glow against the water. He informed me he came from New Jersey, mocked me gently when I revealed I’m from Staten Island. We argued over which state has the better pizza. What life was like back home. He was entering Sophomore year of high school-and I always forget that fact when I reflect on our relationship...if I could even call it that. 

Zack became my friend first; guiding me during those dark weeks of camp. He invited me to sit at his table in the mess hall with his two other buddies. He taught me how to throw a football in a perfect spiral. Took me rowing on the lake during free time. Picked me first in every team sport, including capture the flag which saw Sephiroth on the opposing team. 

And we won. 

And I do sometimes remember the sensation when Zack threw his strong arms around me, cheering my success. How it felt like a million needles pricking my skin and my heart thundered to a halt. And I was so caught up in the fleeting moment of pure euphoria, I barely acknowledged the strange look Sephiroth shot threw his silver bangs as he cocked his head to the side and watched Zack and I be ushered off to revel in our victory. I recall it at times when he gives me that same look. The same look he gave when he asked about Reno the first time. And I get sick just thinking about how far back he planned everything. 

The night of the victory, after dinner with our team and sharing scary stories over the campfire, Zack walked me back to my cabin late. And pulled me into a hug I didn’t understand at the time. And another feeling pooled in the pit of my stomach when he ran his big hands down my back, stopping short of my buttocks before bringing them back up. Nerves. He felt so much bigger than me. Maybe at the time I felt safe in that embrace. But it’s tainted now but what happened after. And while he whispered Good Job, shorty in my ear like a supportive friend, I think I knew there was something else he wanted to say. Something he communicated with an extra squeeze before he released me into the damp darkness of my cabin. 

I laid in bed that night thinking only of Zack. 

Recalling the last few weeks of our budding friendship. Calculated every time he found an excuse to touch me, whether it be a playful push or messing up my hair or kicking me underneath the table. His defense of me to the few friends he had, who hated a tiny kid running around behind them like Peter Pan’s unwanted shadow. Counted on my fingers how many times he gave me this look, the same look Tifa would give me under the covers. 

And I realized between the obvious fucking tent in my pants and the rush of butterflies in my stomach- I was in pre-pubscent love with Zack. 

My friend. 

The older boy who took pity on me. 

And maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. 

I laugh about it now, when I’m throwing back shots of vodka to numb myself from the trauma of it all. But then, I couldn’t help the smile that stretched across my face that remained there until one of my cabin mates discovered my issue and called me out in front of everyone. 

I forgot how easy rumors start. 

But I hadn’t considered that fact

And maybe history just repeats itself.

Zack became my first in almost everything..

My first real kiss under the moonlight after we snuck into the lake after hours. Jumped in with our clothes on- and despite the heat that hung in the air, the water felt like frost. But he was warm. When he ran his hands against my cheek. When our lips met. And I thought this was the most beautiful feeling I could ever experience. The height of human emotion.

And one night, after sneaking out successfully for almost a week, we went to where they stored the canoes- and I never found out how he accessed the shed. He whispered promises in my ear. Told me I was beautiful. 

I played a dangerous game; followed his lead. Accepted acts I offered in return without understanding the consequences. Curse of childhood is short sightedness. And I mistook his acceptance of me as loyalty. And I got myself wrapped up in him that I forgot the person I was before he engulfed me in his gaze. I wanted to be Zack as much as I wanted Zack to love me; like the love they show in movies. Artificial passion. 

Playing these memories back, only three and a half years later, it feels like a different life. And as soon as I feel those rough reminders, my brain shuts down. I’ve drank him away so many times, I find him to be more of a phantom than a tangible being of meat and bones. Who took my innocence away.

And then like a switch flipped-

I approached him at our usual spot in the mess hall. He ignored me. 

When I tried making strain conversation, he offered one word answers. 

The judgmental eyes of his friends drilled into me. And I left with my head low; wondering what I did wrong. Thinking he got tired of me just like Sephiroth did. 

Sephiroth, I found him in the cabin reading one of the comics I brought with me. Lounging in his bunk. Eyes darted to me. And all he said I heard a rumor. 

Apparently someone discovered our actions in the canoe. And that someone threatened Zack he would tell the whole camp. But that someone felt so inclined to tell Sephiroth what he saw. My stomach dropped out of my body. The hazel-eyed boy just stared at me as he vacantly recalled the information he received from his source. And followed with how disgusted he was to be associated with me. 

And I denied.

Denied

Denied. With increasing alarm. And with every crack of my voice, his lips curled. Twitched into a smile. 

And I denied until I started believing in my own words. 

And I blamed Zack-

But I don’t think I’m entirely wrong in that. Which adds another stone to my back that crushes me. One I should have started cracking when I went to therapy and maybe I wouldn’t be such a confused, chaotic, disaster of a person. Any self-confidence I had captured crumbled and turned to dust that year.

I tried to bury all those memories instead of actually addressing them- and now here I am. Presented with a similar situation. An enemy, under the guise of a friend, had weaponized a personal part of myself for his own selfish pleasure. And I stand alone. Bailed on by a person who claimed to care-

And maybe it’s time to change the narrative.