#i swear my actual markers were more purple than this

[mermaidchan05]

Vesuvia Weekly: Eggies

Baby fever doesn't only apply to humans!

So have a Faust and her eggs!

[picklypickle]

- The only one -

a/n: hiii everyone!! this is my first little story, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it, if you want to see more of my writing feel free to send me a request!! Enjoy! ;) words: 1.9k

warnings: tiny bit of swearing, I wrote this with a fem reader, kinda jealous Melissa

When you walk into the staff room in the morning, the first person you notice is your beautiful girlfriend, sitting at her usual table, sipping her coffee with her work wife, Barb, right next to her. At first, she doesn’t notice you, being way too preoccupied by whatever story Barbara is telling. But when she does turn to you, with a frown still on her face from the conversation that was happening prior, her gaze softens and she gives you a soft smile only you can recognize as an “I love you”.

“There she is!” you hear Jacob saying from across the room “Where were you? How come you didn’t get here at the same time as Melissa? Oh no, did you guys fight?” He nervously says as he quickly makes his way over to you.

“Nooo!! No no, I was just running a little bit late so I told Mel to leave without me, thank you for your concern tho!” you laugh.

Everyone at Abbott knew you and Melissa were together, infact, they were the ones who had gotten you two together in the first place, six months ago and they were the biggest fans too. If anything ever happened between you two, your colleagues would probably be more crushed than you and your own girlfriend.

You hear the teacher’s lounge door open and turn around to see who it might be. Suddenly, one of your very close friends and fellow teacher at Abbott, Lauryn, bursts into the room with her usual smile plastered on her face. When she sees you waving, she makes her way over to you.

“Hey girl!! Such a nice day today huh?” she says.

“It is! Oh my god I love your dress!!” you exclaim as you look up and down at her outfit. She is wearing the most beautiful flower patterned dress. You make a mental note to look online for a similar one when you get home tonight.

“Thank you so much!! You know, I bet it would make that perfect ass of yours stand out, you should get one.” She says and proceeds to lick her lips.

You blush out of embarrassment. Did she forget you are with someone? Even worse, that Melissa is literally sitting not even 2 meters from where this very awkward interaction just took place and heard it? You quickly try and look at Jacob, trying to see if he heard the same thing, but unfortunately, he has already left and is talking to Gregory. You quickly glance over at your girlfriend who you can tell very well, has her fists clenched so hard and is fuming right now.

“Uh, thanks!” you try to say as normally as possible, trying to hide the confusion in your face.  “Um anyways, I really have to go, the kids are going to get here soon.” You quickly say and wave goodbye, smiling at her. You rush out of the room, wanting to get away from this whole situation as fast as possible. However, Melissa notices this weird behavior, as she is getting up to come check on you Barb sits her back down. 

“Melissa, you heard what she said, the kids will be getting here soon, she probably just wants to prepare everything.” she says “And besides i'm not done with my story yet, so sit back down.” she adds, while tugging at her sleeve to bring her back down.

When you get to your classroom, you start writing everything you need down on the board, such as the date and the kids schedule that they can rely on during the day. While you’re writing with your favouite purple dry erase marker, your mind starts to wander off. You start to think about how everyone has been telling you for weeks now that Lauryn might be in love with you, but you’ve just been denying it and shrugging it off. But now, you’re starting to wonder if it’s actually true. It’s not like you’re into Lauryn or anything, you have the best girlfriend in the world! Infact, Lauryn’s flirty comments are starting to make you feel uncomfortable, you thought she knew that you were dating Melissa…maybe she forgot?

Before you know it, the bell rings and your little kiddos are running in and hugging you like they normally do every morning. You snap out of your thoughts and start your lesson, you’ll deal with the issue eventually, but for now, all that matters is your students.

★

After lunch was your free period while your students were in gym class. Today, you preferred to avoid everyone and stay in your classroom to do some grading on the most recent test.

Just as you put a sticker on the last copy, you hear a soft knock at the door, you turn arround expecting to see Melissa but you’re met with Lauryn’s grin, holding her cellphone.

“Hey! Am I bothering you?” She asks, peeking into your classroom to see if anyone else is there.

“Nope, I just finished grading these papers.” You reply, gesturing to the stack of documents on the corner of your desk.

“Ahhh alright well, I need to show you this video, it’s so us!” She says excitedly and comes to stand next to where you’re sitting down.

You start to watch the video but quickly realise it’s dedicated to couples… you stop paying attention and focus more on the reflection of the glass of the phone, when you see Lauryn, she’s not.. looking at the video? You try to see what she’s looking at and realize that she is staring directly at your cleavage, practically drooling too. You get red. You get uncomfortable. You start to pray for her to leave or someone to wal-

Someone knocks at the door, again.

“Am I interrupting something?” You look up, recognizing the voice. 

Melissa is standing at the door, hands on her hips.

“Oh hey Melissa!” says Lauryn “You aren’t interrupting anything, I was just showing Y/N this video.” She goes to show Mel the clip.

Your girlfriend clearly also realizes the video is meant for couples and clears her throat, crossing her arms. This makes you look up at her. You can see that she’s jealous, she is part of the group of people that think Lauryn is in love with you and she is also not having it right now.

“Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it!” Says Lauryn, she waves goodbye at the two of you and walks out of your classroom. Clearly she knows that you and Mel are together, so what is this all about?

You and your girlfriend stare at eachother for what feels like forever, until you decide to speak up first.

“Look I d-” You start.

“What the hell was that?” Your girlfriend cuts you off.

“Listen Melissa, I have no idea she just, ugh!” You say, being exhausted from this whole situation “Please don’t be mad, I don’t feel like fighting, I’ll talk to her later.” You finish.

“Hon,I'm not mad, heck if anything I'm jealous!” she says, uncrossing her arms and slowly walking towards you “She’s always making these comments and remarks about your body and undressing you with her eyes! I’m the only one who gets to do that here. And the worst part is, I can tell you hate it, it makes you extremely uncomfortable.” She continues, bending down infront of you and resting her hands on the armrests of your chair. You blush, she knows you perfectly.

“It does.” You say, getting more and more red. You quickly look down at her lips, unknowingly licking your own. The redhead in front of you notices.

“I know it does” she answers, bending her face down to yours, your mouths are inches away from each other “And no, i’ll be the one to do something about it.” 

You smile before kissing her softly, she kisses you back with just as much softness. After a moment, the kiss starts to turn more and more hungry. She places her hand on the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You smile into the kiss. The school bell suddenly rings, signaling that you have to go get your kids from the gym. 

You groan as you pull away from her mouth

“Fuck, I have to go get my kids at the gym! I’m so sorry Mel, I'll talk to you later!” You quickly peck her lips before exiting your class.

Melissa stays there for a moment, smiling to herself, thinking about how much she loves you. 

★

It’s the end of the day, you students have alrea dy gone home and all that’s left to do is go down to the teacher’s lounge to collect your things that you had left there. 

When you get there, you’re greeted by all your friends who are also gathering their things.

“Hey girl, did you have a good day? I didn’t see you around much?” Asks Janine, with a small frown, her face slightly coated in worry.

“Yes I had a good day, I just had a lot of grading to do and preferred to do it in my own space.” You reply reassuringly.

“Oh okay!” She smiles at you.

“Hey, uh, Y/N?” You recognize the voice, it’s Lauryn “Do you think maybe.. you’d wanna um, get drinks or something tonight?” She asks nervously.

“Uh, um” you have no idea what to say “I uh..”

Melissa, who was talking to Barb as per usual, notices you and Lauryn right away and decides that this is her time to shine, this is where this little Lauryn thing stops. 

“Hey, Lauryn?” Melissa says while approaching you from behind “Have you ever noticed in the last six months that, I don’t know, me and Y/N are dating? Or did you just think we were joking?”

“Oh! Well..” The girl in front of you says 

“Save it glasses, and save up that money for a new pair because this one isn’t working” Mel says “Now back the fuck off before I throw you down the stairs and the only drinks you’ll be getting are jello cups from the hospital” She finishes, before quickly turning around to grab her things and you by the arm and dragging you out the door.

“Oh, bye guys!!” She loudly says to everyone else in the room to make sure everyone heard.

“Bye Melissa!” Janine awkwardly says and makes her way towards Lauryn to check on her, not to comfort her, just to make sure no one ends up hating her in the future.

★

When you get to Melissa’s car, you can’t help but smile at her, and then well, laugh. You had no idea she was going to do this right then and there but she did. She joins the laughing fit after a few seconds.

“Oh how I love you!” You kiss her passionately before turning to your own car “I’ll see you at home sweetheart!” You yell at her before shutting your car door and starting your engine.

“I love you more hon, i’ll cook you your favorite pasta for dinner!” She yells back before shutting her car door as well.

With that, you both drive away to where was originally only Melissa’s house, but is now yours too, and you plan on it being for a very long time. Plus, you get to look for that new dress you want! 

[neonacity]

HYACINTHE | Chapter 1: Jaemin x Reader

Summary:

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones.

Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul's top organized crime family normal.

There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word.

So why, then, does he always find himself in the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. tw: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

BLACK DAISIES MASTERLIST

___________________________________________________________

I've known him for almost a year and a half when it happened. 

The small bell of the cafe's back door dinged so hard, I thought it would get ripped off from the wall. I looked up, eyes wide with panic and hands still wrapped around the cold corners of a metal tray when a head of jet black hair appeared on the entrance. It took me half a second to register what I was seeing before I found myself flying to his side in a heartbeat. 

"Jaemin! Oh my god, what the hell is going on!"

My first thought was that he was injured. He was doubled over and I quickly hunched to his level so that I could peer at his face. He looked paler than usual, beads of sweat stuck on his forehead, eyes glazed with a slight look of panic as he tried to keep himself from falling over. I threw out my hands to hold him by the shoulders and that's when my gaze caught it; the small black package that he quickly tried to hide inside his bomber jacket before I could even fully see what it is. I didn't give it much attention back then—I was far too focused in trying to see if he was hurt anywhere to worry about anything else. When his gaze finally focused on me, I thought I saw guilt there.  

"I need your help. Sorry, I don't know where else to go."

My brows furrowed together. 

"What the hell is going on—"

He reached out for one of my hands helping him up and squeezed it tight. 

"Please don't ask me questions. Just—can you trust me?" 

"I don't understand—" my voice started to rise. Is he hurt? Bleeding? In pain? 

"Please."

My lips parted then pursed again. 

"Okay."

Jaemin tugged me closer to him and threw a panicked look outside. He then pulled me farther into the now closed cafe, back into the storage room, the location of which he shouldn't even know in the first place. 

"Let me hide here for a bit. Just a bit."

That encounter was my second mistake since meeting Na Jaemin. 

I should have asked questions. 

Lots of them. 

___________________________________________________________

The first mistake happened about a year and half ago. 

"Welcome to Brick and Beans, what would you like to have today?"

I plastered on my practiced smile and looked at the stranger in front of me without actually looking at him. Working in the service industry sure does things to your head once you get used to it. Despite having to deal with people all the time, you also get to develop a kind of numbness and detachment to human interaction. A face just becomes a face, a customer simply becomes just another passing responsibility. I tried to blink a few times to make myself seem more interested on the boy standing in front of my counter, patiently waiting for him to give me his order so we can go ahead and get on with both our business. 

"Uh… I'll have an iced americano. No water. Eight shots of espresso."

My lips parted and curled on the sides to give him my service smile. My hand automatically reached out for the plastic cups stacked on my side while my other whipped out the marker clipped on the pocket of my apron to scribble his order. 

"That's one iced americano, no water, eight—"

I stopped and blinked once. Twice. My gaze shot up at the customer in front of me again and really looked at him for the first time.

"I'm sorry, that's eight shots of espresso?"

He nodded, seemingly unbothered by my question. 

"No water?"

A slight shake of the head. 

"...eight shots. Of espresso."

"Eight shots, yes." 

For a moment we both just stared at each other. He was looking at me patiently, probably only slightly weirded out by my question while I gave him a look that's a mix of worry and disbelief. Working as a barista has exposed me to my own fair share of weird coffee requests, but this is by far the one that takes the cake. 

I softly cleared my throat and turned my attention back to the words I was scribbling on the cup. As strange as it is, I really am not in the position to judge a customer. 

"That'll be 4.50 dollars. Is that for here?"

"Make it to go." 

"Got it. I'll get you your order soon…"

"Jaem." 

I smiled and scribbled his name on the cup. 

Foot traffic was pretty slow on the cafe so I was able to quickly finish the order on autopilot. As I worked on mixing, I found myself humming softly to myself, my tune shifting into short whistles every time I would dunk an espresso shot down into that cup. I didn't even realize that the customer didn't bother taking a seat on one of the empty tables, opting to lean on the wall by the side instead, hands shoved in the pockets of his jogs as his eyes followed me. 

"One iced americano for Jaem," I called out and pushed the packed drink into his hand. He handed me his card and I quickly worked on swiping it. 

"You sure like your coffee explosive, huh?" I shot him a question for the sake of making small talk as I punched some buttons on my terminal. 

"It's the eight shots, isn't it?"

I answered by giving him a shrug and a smile.

"It's the first time I ever did one like it. I can only imagine how it tastes like."

His lips slightly quirked into a smile. A...really cute smile if I might add.  

"Is there anything wrong?"

"It's really good." 

"Sure, Jaem. I'm not here to judge," I gave him a wink before handing back his card and receipt. "Well, thank you for dropping by. We hope to see you here again." He took both wordlessly and slipped them on his wallet. 

I was waiting for him to walk off with his drink with the practiced polite smile plastered on my face again. He turned, coffee in hand, took about five steps, before turning to me again. I blinked in mild confusion as he placed his cup back on my counter. 

"Actually… I'll have it here." 

___________________________________________________________

"I'm not going to try your death coffee, Jaemin." 

I didn't look up from the page I was reading but I could feel it, that deadly pout and puppy eyes combo drilling onto the side of my head. I flipped a page of my textbook over and I heard a sigh come from the boy beside me. 

"I bought it for you. You said you need to finish a paper tonight."

"I do. That doesn't require me to be awake for the next week and a half," I answered back with a quirk of my lips as I finally looked up to meet his gaze. We were seated at one of the far tables of the cafe for my 15 minute break, away from the handful of customers scattered on the smattering of tables and high chairs. This has become quite a routine already… but how it started, I can't really explain.

Ever since that first order, Jaemin had made it his routine to drop by almost regularly. At first the banter started similar to how a regular customer and his favorite barista would have, but since he would always come and visit during slow hours, we would always have more time for longer conversations. Casual talk turned into light-hearted jokes, and finally into a kind of banter that comes with familiarity with each other. Slowly, I came to know the complexities of Na Jaemin, and boy, is he an enigma and a paradox rolled in one. 

You never really know what to expect with him. There are days when he would be a bursting ball of energy—most of the time when he would order his drink from hell—but there are also moments when he would be quiet and reserved. I found it odd at first, but slowly accepted it since it didn't really hurt me in the first place. In fact, if I am going to be completely honest, I find this kind of personality set working for me. Imagine gaining two friends, except they're only in one body. 

But that's not the only odd thing in our dynamic, too. If someone would ask me now to describe the kind of friendship I have with him, I wouldn't really know how to explain it. We joke together, laugh together, sometimes even tease the crap out of each other like we've known each other for years. We work well together, but at the same time… I know almost next to nothing about him. I don't know his address, who his other friends are, if he's going to school or not… hell, I don't even know what his number is. Outside of this cafe and his regular visits, I don't have anything to prove that he actually exists. He didn't share, and I also didn't ask. 

Until today.

"Fine. I'm just going to drink this then."

I gasped before shooting him a squinted glare. 

"You are going to burn a hole in your stomach, I swear to god—"

He simply shrugged and made a huge show of sipping the previously untouched tears of Lucifer. 

I reached out to tug at the hood of his jacket in an attempt to call him out when I noticed it. His hair was initially masking it at first but now I could see it in full view: a purple bruise just on the side of his eye, almost to his temple.

"Oh my god, Jaemin. What happened?" I asked in a hurry as I tried to take a closer look at it. His expression changed in a heartbeat as he realized what I saw and he quickly leaned back and pulled the hoodie again over his head. 

"That's—it's nothing." 

"It looks so bad. How did you get that?"

He didn't answer. His eyes avoided my own and his hand gripped the plastic cup between us a little bit tighter. 

"Did you get into a fight?" I pushed, gently this time. 

His gaze moved to meet mine again for a few seconds. It's obvious he was contemplating what and how to answer. 

"Yeah… I got into a bit of a tumble with some friends."

I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest as I leaned back on my seat. He threw me a look that silently asked what else I want from him.

"Look. You don't tell me shit but at least I know enough to be sure you are lying."

Jaemin looked away and started tapping his finger against the table. 

"Why are you… why do you even want to know?"

I looked at him incredulously for a few seconds before leaning over. 

"Because you're my friend and I want to make sure you are okay."

"I am okay."

"Your black eye says otherwise."

"Come on, don't push this. Can't we be friends without," he waved his hand between us. "This?"

"Jaemin, I don't even know who you are."

That made him stop. He stared at me for what felt like a full half minute and that's when I saw it for the first time. The dilemma in his eyes. 

"It was because of work…" 

The look of confusion I made must have been so intense that he quickly tried to jump over it.

"Work—why, what do you—"

"I'm sorry, but that's really all that I can tell you." 

The sound of desperation in his tone wasn't lost on me. He looked so torn that I felt almost guilty for pressing.

"Fine… I won't ask again… As long as you are sure you're fine."

He peered at me once more as if assessing if he was finally off the hook. 

"So...we're still friends?"

"Huh?"

"You and me… we're still friends?"

"Uh, yes…" 

The look of relief on his face made me smile despite myself. He caught it and he made it a point to answer it with his best eye roll. 

"Don't laugh at me. I don't know how to do friends."

"You're so cute~"

"Shut up."

And that was the exact day I decided—I'm never going to let Na Jaemin feel alone again. 

Chapter 2

[punemy-spotted]

Of Blackbirds and Barons: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: You Make The Rain Fall Harder

Relationships: Mob!Helmut Zemo x Reader; CEO!Billy Russo x Reader; Mob!Helmut Zemo x Reader x CEO!Billy Russo

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con; Dark!Fic; Mob and Mafia Elements; Character Death (Minor and Major); Threesome; Possessive/Obsessive Characters; Blackmail/Coercion; Kidnapping; Mentions of War; Human Rights Violations; Contract Killing; Mafia AU; Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat; Complete Disregard for Actual Rules of Journalism and Style Guides; Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply

Chapter Specific Warnings: Non-con; Drugging/Date-Rape; Fingering (F-Receiving); Vaginal Sex; Unprotected Sex; Possible Breeding Kink; Kidnapping; Obsessive/Possessive Zemo; Dark!Zemo; Human Rights Violations; Discussion of Destruction of Novi Grad and Sokovia; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Chapter Summary: The problem with having sympathy for the Devil is that he will drag you down to Hell regardless.

Author’s Notes: Another series! Because I can’t get enough of Mob!AUs! Zemo makes his dark entrance. And this IS dark, so read at your own discretion. As always, all of my work is 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Masterlist

The long tradition of the Duchy of Sokovia, that which once stood the test of time against the Tsars of Russia, began to crumble long before its borders did, its sweeping architecture and decadent mystery giving way to the sharp lines of Brutalism and the characteristic industrialism of the Eastern Bloc. Still, the Sokovian people managed to maintain their identity in the face of a new kind of empire, bringing greenery and art to a brisk, concrete world.

There is no Sokovia now, not the way one would think, but there are still Sokovians scattered around the world, clinging to the traditions of their once-home and searching for a banner to be united under.

A banner carried by a man like Helmut Zemo.

The caret blinks back at you with a mocking sort of finality, a metronome counting down the seconds to your ultimate frustration. Once. Twice. Thrice — you lose count, staring at the screen until your vision crosses and the words blur together, until only his name remains.

Zemo.

Baron Helmut Zemo.

Your notes are expansive, excessive, papers strewn about you and you look at each scribbled anecdote, each carefully dictated word, each photograph you have annotated until it is more red marker than actual picture and you are… frustrated.

Where do you put all that passion? He asked you over champagne and charcuterie.

You know this man.

You know this man like you know your own soul. You know this man who has bared his soul to you in turn and how are you supposed to impress upon the world that he has shown you the broken heart beating slow and painful in his chest in just a thousand words?

There is nothing. Nothing you can do, nothing you can saywhich could even begin to encompass the horrors which he has experienced and now as you painstakingly tap out word after word describing the grand beauty of his apartment, you wonder if this really was what your life was meant to be.

These are… fluff.

This is a man who has managed to unite an entire fractured country under his royal banner and yet the project wants to know about the indoor garden of his apartment, wants to photograph him in fine suits and know his haircare routine and this can’t be it. This can’t be the face of the man you see everywhere now, moreso since you picked up the assignment, purple-masked and surrounded by brass wings, over the homes of Sokovians all over New York.

And not just there.

I am a man, he told you with his hand on your thigh, But I can become an idea. And an idea is immortal.

You let your eyes skim over the photographs you took, a collection of banners and graffiti and billboards all proclaiming the need for the Sokovian people to come together and heal. To show that their small country — broken and divided in the wake of an attack by a rich megalomaniac’s private military — could not be taken down simply because its borders had been erased and its capitol turned to rubble.

We live in an age of information, and through information we are boundless.

It should terrify you.

It does terrify you.

But inside of that terror is a sick fascination with the man, isn’t there? That’s the trouble with you investigative types — peel back the layers enough and you find yourself capable of feeling sympathy for anyone.

He flaunts his power, and yet it’s innocent. Is it so wrong, then, to want to bring my country back to its glory?

No, you remember answering shakily, but not as well as you remember the pinpricks of heat his fingers left on your skin when that gloved hand brushed over you arm.

Breathe deep, hover fingers over your keyboard and try not to feel like you owe him the weight of the world. He approved of this, even suggested a word count and a topic of conversation — any chance to put his name out into the consciousness of the public, it seemed, to raise interest for the gallery by raising interest for the cause. Make it indulgent. My people, they enjoy art. They enjoy knowing that their leaders have preserved the past for them.

So do it.

… Baron Zemo’s New York penthouse is its own garden amongst a sea of steel and stone, a veritable museum of priceless artworks rescued from what remained of Sokovian museums and ministry buildings. It is, in its own way, an ode to the spirit of Sokovia, which lives on in the hearts and minds of its people around the world. He displays artworks of the many displaced Sokovians, gesturing broadly to a 3D model of an art gallery he intends to have built near the memorial at Novi Grad — with the consent of the Slovakian government — and speaking fondly of his intention to showcase the lost art of Sokovia as a reminder that loss of land cannot be the loss of an identity…

The artworks, they will be painful at first. But the gallery will showcase more and more, and eventually we will have hope.

He waves a gloved hand over the pieces he has preserved. Sokovian history. Scenic expanses, fields and flowers, a city skyline dotted with domed cathedrals. Each painting marred some way too, you can see when you look close. Patched canvas, the dusting of ash and rubble in the corner of an ornate frame, a trick of the light revealing repainting to cover up damage.

A stone hoof sits on a bookshelf, The attached horse and rider blown to rubble in the attack. I’m told it was of Emperor Ferdinand, but my archivists have not been able to confirm, he tells you as he stands behind you, his hand resting soft on the small of your back.

Come. There is more to be seen.

More to be experienced.

His living room is a garden.

It smells like fresh jasmine the moment you walk in, ivy climbing the walls and you swear you can hear birdsong from more than the pigeons cooing outside. Flower arrangement is an often looked down upon art, but the gardens in Sokovia were impeccable. My father won several awards for his pieces before his…

He trails off and you watch him, seeing the pain paint his face as openly as if he meant for you to watch the facade crack and then back to that placid, pleasant calm, a serpentine smile on his face as he extends to you a hand and guides you to the open air of his balcony and bids you Sitbids you Enjoy bids you I have looked forward to his meeting.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Baron Zemo, you begin politely, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear and trying to avoid the way his eyes follow your fingers, feeling seen, We’re grateful for the honor of your patronage for this piece, we know you could have —

Nonsense, he cuts you off with a wave of his hand, gesturing to his butler and then leaning back comfortably in his seat as champagne and various cheeses are brought forth, You are my guest, and I am grateful you agreed to come meet me here, to assist with my… project. Now. Please, enjoy, I do not want to treat this as strictly business.

Is that why he had you come alone?

Don’t.

Don’t dwell on it.

It happens all the time, right? It has to.

A somewhat reclusive man, not keen to be in the limelight, in need of public attention to achieve his goals — you are a means to an end and he is your means to an end, surely you can understand.

Is that why he wipes the honey from your lips and kisses it off his fingers?

This is going to be a difficult conversation and you know it. You can only gush over houseplants and rose décor for so long before it becomes… trite, before you’re a part of the problem, painting a shining veneer over a half-decade old injustice

But he is warm, warm and friendly and you cannot help but laugh to his response when you draw attention to the architecture to draw attention from your blush — Very modern, yes. We are in New York, after all, and the old ways are fine for country houses but not so fine, for sunny penthouse apartments —not noticing the way he looks like he’s just smelled blood at the sound of it, the narrowing of his eyes and the hiding of his inscrutable expression behind a sip of champagne.

Well then. Shall we get started?

Of course.

Why don’t we start with your plans for opening night?Your notepad is out, the recorder sitting in front of you to pick up the sound of your voice and his, ready to commit everything to memory.

Of course. We cannot deny the… elephant in the room, I think you Americans call it. There are many who took pictures of the aftermath of the attack, and not enough who have seen it immortalized…

… The tragedy of Novi Grad and the consequential absorption of Sokovia into its surrounding countries weighs heavy in the Baron’s living room, draped in ivy and jasmine and hanging vines but also in photographs of what was left after a private military corporation chose to turn human lives into a war game.

No one knows who Ultron is, only that he is dangerous, that his technology rivals that of the SHIELD Syndicate’s Tony Stark, that he is willing to ally himself to the highest bidder, and that he is fully capable of unleashing endless destruction upon the world…

You will never forget the photographs he shows you, all that death and destruction in the golden light of his balcony, all that warmth and all you can see is cold bodies bathed in concrete dust.

They call to you, when you close your eyes — answer for our crimes — and you remember the way his voice changes too, so soft and solemn, the brush of fingers against yours when you touch the bombed out shell of a country mansion My home, in Sokovia, to the gray-and-blood horror which forms the centerpiece of his display, and you remember your research too, that the Baron is a widow, that his title is inherited from the most tragic of circumstances, that his son was an innocent lost in the attack and you are furious too, at the senselessness of it all.

It is a tragedy yet unanswered for, more than half a decade since the dust settled.

That quote sits front and center on your mock-up, wondering if you could make whatever editor who would inevitably rip this piece to shreds — just before publishing its corpse alongside some glamour picture of the Baron his coat — finally see the error of ignoring the tragedy. You won’t, but it’s worth a shot, as you lean back in your chair and stare at the screen again.

Sometimes you think about it.

Watching Novi Grad happen from the comfort and safety of your living room, wrapped in blankets as open war broke out in the capital city of what had once been a crown jewel in an ancient dynasty. A playground, a show of force.

Sometimes you hear the screams.

The blinking carat waits for you to add more to this story, to decide where you want to go.

… The Baron plays a game with his interview, insists on knowing his guests just as we insist on getting to know the enigmatic leader who has risen up a beacon for the displaced people of his homeland. We will not be recreating our answers in this article, as they were of course of a personal nature, but we do thank the Baron for taking the time to get to know us just as he bared his soul, his sorrows, and his hopes to a gaggle of strangers seeking to make him known to the world…

Tell me of you, sweetling.

Me? This interview is about you.

And so I must tell all my secrets for free? No, I insist. A secret for a secret.

He watches you with a hunger, coal-black eyes an invitation. Slide your gaze away or fall and who knows what depths he will drag you into and what you will find there?

No.

Don’t look, don’t look as you sip the tea Oeznik brought when you politely declined the champagne — Another time, probably — and let it brace you with its bitterness, let it clear your head.

Breathe.

You’re in too deep now, trapped in this cave of wonders… and wouldn’t it be worth it? Know him as he knows you, follow the trajectory of the smiling man before you.

What would you like to know?

Tell me how you taste his eyes whisper.

Tell me what it would take says the curve of his fingers over your hand.

Let me put you on display hums the razor-blade of his smile.

Tell me what drives a woman to take on such a … dangerous line of work, is the final inquiry, innocent and curious and gentle and you sip your tea and smile.

Is it dangerous?

You must know how many secrets you uncover — and the lengths the keepers will go to in order to hide them.

If people get hurt, shouldn’t I bring that to light?

How noble of you, he tells you with another hum, with his fingers squeezing yours, with his eyes fixed on the gaze you refuse to send his way, It must be quite thrilling.

Let me thrill you too, sweetling.

Pull away.

Do it.

Pull your hand away, make an act of it, pick up a candied strawberry and press it past your lips, let the sweetness soak your tongue and wash away the bitter thoughts, let yourself be bright and chipper and pretend you are not afraid.

Because you’re not.

Of course you’re not.

You are in control here, you must be in control here.

This is nothing. This is a casual interview with a handsome man in his handsome penthouse, an interview about architecture and art galleries and you were a correspondent once and you are meant to be friendly here, not afraid, so what are you afraid of?

What is it about his coal-dark eyes and too-sharp smile that turns your blood, that sends you back into your hutch, little rabbit, what is it about the way he prowls at the corner of your thoughts that makes you shudder so?

What are you running from?

Who are you running from?

Your turn, sweetling.

Mmh?

Our deal, or have you forgotten already?

Yes. You have.

It’s his eyes, you keep insisting to yourself. They drag you in, so dark it feels like you’re drowning in the void of them, searching for the light at the end of the tunnel.

It’s a chase.

It’s what you’re good at.

Right — I’m sorry, I’m…

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

The fog in your thoughts doesn’t fade, confusion crossing over your features and ill delight crossing over his. All you had was tea, tea and some of the candied fruit his butler brought for your enjoyment, how can you feel so…

Hazy?

So…

Upturned?

Something clatters behind you and you realize it’s the chair you were sitting on as you stand, unsteady and abrupt, lost in the moors of your own frantic thoughts and there is his hand on your elbow, so careful and soft and there are his lips before yours, so…

Tempting.

Somewhere, a woman croons to you of falling rain and rushing blood and the room does spin round as you stand still in the open air of a desire that is yours and not your own all at once. Shhh, shhh, let me help you whispered in your ear, a hand to your cheek and you…

You blink.

Reality flows into view like a sudden bath of ice water. Jerk away from his iron grip, raise your hands and try to resist, shake your head and N-no, I think. I think I need to go, I’ll just call a cab —

I cannot let you do that, sweetling. Not when you are finally within my reach.

His hold is steady. Unbreakable, even, as he pulls you close and you might even be dancing with the way his arm wraps around your waist the moment you fall into his chest, Don’t look so afraid, sweetling. No one will hurt you, here.

I will protect you like a jewel.

Your mind is still yours — the dose was just enough — but your limbs? Your limbs are tied to his strings, lost as he guides you right back inside, lost as he gestures for Oeznik to close off the balcony.

Your place is somewhere else now.

You belong underneath me.

He guides you inside, jasmine intoxicating your senses and wisps of smoke seeming to float past your eyes. Reality blends into the fantasy, the Baron and his prize, the gentle touch against your soft cheek, the cradling against his form and he is…

Determined.

A door opens. A portal into another kind of decadence, with soft sheets and softer touches, the sliding of a mouth over yours as your escape clicks shut behind you and you are pressed between wall and man and you are consumed.

Curl your fingers into the lapel of his coat, lose yourself to the pressure of his lips, the sharp nip of teeth against soft flesh. He tastes of champagne and honeycomb and you are saccharine on the tongue, a mess of sighs and admonitions left unsaid.

My precious thing, whispered into your unfocused sighs, I will take such fine care of you.

And you want to protest, want to insist you are free you are uninterested you do not want this man and his hands under the cotton of your blouse but the words tangle on your tongue and instead all you can do is whimper.

Whimper, and hear him chuckle against your skin, a line of kisses drawn from your parted lips along your jaw until he’s found the thrum of your pulsebeat to draw a gasp the moment his teeth scrape against the delicate skin. He must mark you his, after all, and this he will gladly renew, over and over.

Over and over as he draws you to bed, lays you amongst soft cushions and softer sheets, indulges in the soft curves of you in the golden glow of the room. Your clothes — so conservative, so professional, so unnecessary — he makes short work of even with what mild resistance you manage, Shh, shh, do not fight me.

The heat is yours and not yours all at once, warming your skin and leaving you flushed, leaving a trail of burning want along your skin where his fingers trace over you and centering in your core You need this, sweetling, look at you…

Do you?

Is it you who needs this or he, he who has begun to kiss along your skin, he who presses himself between your legs so impatiently? The accusation lives in your thoughts and passes past your lips as a strangled Nnh-no, ignored without ceremony or appeal.

Protests are useless when your tongue can form no words and your limbs can do nothing but writhe, seeking structure in the grip of his sheets as he unravels you with a press of his lips to that soft center of yours, slick with a need you cannot own and yet all yours.

He maps you with a hungry gaze, fingers already tracing the plushness of your folds, gathering slick like he might have been collecting nectar and you watch him pull back, watch him bring his hand to his mouth, watch him wrap lips around his fingertip and drag the taste of you onto his tongue, One day I shall make you taste how sweet you are…

One day, after he has savored you so deeply.

You are so full of words they burst out of you on a normal day and yet nothing you say comes to light, just the bare whimpers and anxious mewls of your needy self as he returns to inspecting, to enjoying, to savoring the reactiveness of your body.

He touches. He touches as if he has owned your body a thousand times, he touches as if you are delicate, as if you are breakable, as if his fingers might lead you to shattering around him here and now and you…

Are so close, already.

So close, trying to find the strength in your muscles to pull away, to speak something beyond desperation with every curl of fingers against your cunt, with every pleased hum he utters in response to the flex of your sex. Shh… no more fighting, sweetling, I know you can be good.

He knows you can be good, he says, with all the innocence of a man trying to convince his cat to stop clawing the couch, not a man presently holding your legs open with one hand at your thigh and the other curling against your walls while you arch your back. It builds, the pressure, it builds and builds and builds and — Let go, sweetling. Let me see your ecstasy.

Is that what this is?

You keen. You keen softly, desperately, brokenly, as skilled fingers find the spot which makes you, which leaves you breathless and flushed and sobbing, a trickle of tears making their path down your cheeks as you bite your own lip to muffle the sounds you did not know you could make. Wordless and pleading and he notices with a cold smile the way you seem to succumb, hips no longer desperate to escape the curling, stretching assault of two — no, three — fingers preparing you for him.

Hips pressing back towards him now, a betrayal of your conscious-yet-barely-focused mind, that lustful sweetness in you taking over and he can only watch in awe. Awe not at your surrender but at your perfection, muttering in a language you do not understand and yet you understand perfectly what he means — he will have you, all of you.

Ah, I shall so enjoy playing with you more, sweetling.

But not now.

Now his impatience outpaces your need and both outpace his cruelty, his desire to see you beg and so instead he pulls back his hand — and hears the desperate N-no, please don’t — to bring a cruel gleam to his dark eyes and even barely conscious as you are you know he is beautiful.

Beautiful and cruel, as he frees himself and curls fingers around his cock, rubs your own slick onto that soft skin, hisses at the very feel of you like it must be a preview to how you will make him throb, and presses himself over you. Presses himself over you, absorbs the cry of pain or anguish or relief which pours from your plush lips with the punishment of a kiss just as he sinks, hips pressing against yours, stretching you with his full length and Now we are one, my sweet.

Now we are one.

He will take fine care of you but you, you take finer care of him, so plush and tight around his senses, so desperate as you cling, so lost and wanton and he kisses away the tears which continue to sting your cheeks and hisses half-sensible promises into your ear — You will always be mine — as he ruts his hips and practically shoves you forward with every thrust, dragging you back with a snarl and the pressure builds.

Builds and you moan, builds and you sob into his hungry mouth, builds and you hold to him as if he were the last thing which made sensein the world builds and you are consumed and he is consuming, and the release is both of yours, spilling deep inside of you and that too is the final shackle upon your soul.

You sit. In the darkness of your office and you remember, worrying the cuticle of your thumb and staring at the words you have typed while your memory drifts back to that hazy reminder.

… A discussion with the Baron about Sokovia reveals a country rich with history. Once a Duchy of the Hapsburgs during the era of the Holy Roman Empire, the deeply Catholic country clings to the Austrian and Italian tradition of ceremony and indulgence. Baron Zemo plays an example of the hymns sung in the many cathedrals which once filled the country, a mixture of Sokovian and Latin to raise the soul to divine heights.

The Baron speaks of the country’s culture with a warm fondness, of how even during Soviet occupation, the people managed to enjoy games like ice hockey, and football (the European, variant, the Baron would like to emphasize), and even spent time indulging in horse racing. Surrounded by Slovakia and the Czech Republic, it keeps a similar tradition, with a twist…

No, that cannot encompass all that you discussed, and yet that is what the recording shows, words traded back and forth which you do not remember, a conversation of laughter and warmth and none of it slots into what your mind tells you occurred.

You erase. You rewrite. It is the same passage, over and over, fingers acting unbidden of your frantic will and eventually you give in, demand to be done with these words and this screen, eventually you desire peace.

… Baron Helmut Zemo is many things. A historian, an ambassador, a politician, an activist. He is a widower, a man trapped in the past, a man with lofty dreams for the future. He wears his sorrow as well as he wears his happiness, and for those who still call themselves Sokovian, he is their shepherd into a new age.

And as the door to your office opens, your keeper.

[jungshookz]

cee omg you could literally write a drabble about uni!yoongi making out with yn and i would literally die

➺ pairing; min yoongi x reader

➺ genre; uni!yoongiverse!! nsfw i think?? i’m not sure?? what do u call it if it’s simultaneously smut and not smut at the same time.,,. smaybe smut,,. smalmost smut,..  smerhaps smut,.,. 

➺ wordcount: 1.5k is this a baby drabble??? idk i’m counting it as a regular drabble 

➺ what to expect; “i’m going to need you to shut up now, please.”

➺ optional reading: not necessary but feel free to read some other drabbles from the uni!yoongiverse!

➺ note; this was originally a baby drabble (literally was only going to be a couple of sentences at the moST) but i got carried away so here we are :D also i wrote this while my professor was in the background talking about 16th century literature on zoom and now it’s a genuine concern for me as to whether or not ancient literature is my aphrodisiac 

                                   »»————-　♡　————-««

you never really know how yoongi does it

every time you tell yourself that this time, you won’t let yourself be distracted by your boyfriend, it’s only three seconds later that you find yourself straddling him on the couch with your hands all over him

and theN when you tell yourself that you’ll only entertain him for ten minutes maximum before getting back to work he does that dumb boyish smirk and head tilt thing (“you sure you wanna go back to your textbook?”) that makes your knees all wobbly and your tummy all warm and before you know it your poor textbooks have been abandoned on the coffee table

one time you even left a marker uncapped and when you came back an hour later it was all dRY

yoongi dipped it into a glass of water in a poor attempt to revive it but it was too late

(he bought u a set of new markers from the bookstore on campus to make up for it)

“do you- mm- do you wanna hear about the classes i’m taking this semester?” you pull away and reach up to adjust your glasses that are now a little wonky considering the fact you and yoongi have been kissing for- has it already been twenty minutes?!

what happened to your ten minute rule??

yoongi rolls his eyes playfully before nodding, “go for it, dork-” he snorts before nudging his nose against your chin to get you to tilt your head back

he knows that if he says no you’re going to whinE about it for the entire time he’s groping you on the sofa so he might as well let you get it off your chest

“okay, so i’m taking this super cool literature course on trauma-“ you hum as you wrap your arms loosely around yoongi’s neck

yoongi starts to press warm kisses against your jaw while his hand slides down from your waist so that he’s gripping the side of your thigh, “mm, yeah? sounds cool.”

“it’s so super cool!” you gasp excitedly, “and the professor is super nice - i mean, she’s a little ditzy with zoom, but that’s to be expected - oh, anD she has purple hair, which automatically makes her the coolest professor ever-” you absentmindedly shift in yoongi’s lap and he grunts when you grind down against him in the process

also

side note

(not that he’s not paying attention to what you’re saying right now, but it’s pretty hard to noT focus on the fact that he’s currently kissing up on his very pretty girlfriend)  

he was never really into dry humping before you came along

you guys don’t do it as often considering the fact that now,.,. now u can just have plain ol sex buT sometimes you’ll get into it if you’re on a tight schedule or something

like the other night yoongi had some dinner plans with a couple of friends (aka going to town on 5 XL pizzas in a grubby frat house) but yoU, for some reason, decided that while he was in the middle of putting his shoes on, that was the perfect time to tell him that you wanted to play

“the last person who gets there has to take out the garbage, and i am noT going to take out the garbage again-“

“but don’t you like it when i grind on you wearing just your sweatshirt?”

yoongi pauses in the middle of tying his laces

so yeah

he was the last one to arrive at the frat house which meant he was on garbage duty but it was totally worth it

and yeah, he supposes dry humping is typically something that only a couple of hormonal prepubescent teenagers would be into but.,,. with you, it’s just so,.,.., it’s so hot

he likes seeing you get so worked up over him when he hasn’t even taken any of his clothes off yet

his favourite is when he’s lying on his back and you’re on top just because he… likes it when you’re on top

there really isn’t a very deep explanation to his preference

it’s a nice view! sue him!

he also likes when you place your hands on his chest

you say it’s because it helps keep you from falling off but he knows you just like touching him there

and right as you’re about to cum, your fingers always twitch and he likes the feeling of your nails digging into the thick fabric of his hoodies

not to mention, he loves seeing your reactions whenever he starts talking dirty to you because your cheeks and the tips of your ears get super red and usually you get all quiet and whimpery but there’s always a fire in your eyes like you’re ready to rip all of his clothes off

like there was one time he actually just wanted to tease you just to see how far he could go (you weren’t paying any attention to him because your stupid nose was stuck in your stupid books as per usual and he was getting really bored) and he’d never seen you so needy before

“yeah? you like it when i talk to you like this?” yoongi coos and bites back a grin when you buck your hips against him with a pitiful whine slipping past your lips

he presses his palm flat against your hip to keep you from moving, “aw, what’s the matter, baby? need me?” yoongi pushes his bottom lip out in a mocking pout as he hooks a finger into the waistband of your skirt before giving it a playful tug

“yoongi, please-“ you prop yourself up on your elbows before leaning up to try to get yoongi to kiss you

he’s been dodging your kisses for the past five minutes which he’s been really enjoying because you look awfully cute when you frown at him like that

and to make matters worse (for you, duh! not him >:-)) he knoWs you really really like kissing him

yoongi nearly snorts when he notices you looking at him like you’re about to skin him alive

he totally gets it because he’s basically blue-balling you

it’s nice to be on the other side of the situation for once!

no wondER you do it all the time

“yoongi.” you clear your throat and he raises a brow

“mhm?”

“i don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, but-“ you poke your finger against his chest, “in three seconds, i’m going to get on my hands and knees for you - and i want you to push my skirt up, tug my panties to the side, and fuck me. please fuck me.”

yoongi’s eyes widen in surprise and he pulls back a little

you very rareLY use swear words on a daily basis - in fact, you usually scold him when he brings his potty mouth into your apartment - so he’s not used to you dropping the f-bomb so casuall-

“did i mention i started taking birth control?”

yoongi’s mouth immediately goes dry

“-also taking a literature class on shakespeare, which is really bringing me back to high school-“ yoongi snaps out of his little trip down memory lane when he feels you shift on his lap again

okay well

he was like 5% horny earlier but now that the gates of his spank bank have basically flung wiDE open it’s safe to say that he’s roughly… 98% horny?

maybe a little more

maybe like 150% horny

you could flick his forehead and he would have a mind-blowing orgasm - that’s how horny he is. 

it’s not his fault!!! 

blame the spank bank!!! 

“and- oh!” you find yourself flopping back on the couch and staring up at the ceiling all of a sudden and you blink quickly as your brain attempts to catch up to what the hecK is happening right now 

“i’m going to need you to shut up now, please.” yoongi’s face pops up in front of your eyes and your eyes widen when he drags you down towards him until his very obvious bulge is pressing right up against your centre

you feel your face flush bright red and you find yourself struggling to come up with anything to say because a second ago you were literally talking about william frickin shakespeare, “but-”

“here’s what’s going to happen-“ yoongi tugs his sweatshirt up over his head, “first, i’m gonna go down on you,” he tosses it aside before leaning over and placing both hands on either side of your head, the thin silver chain hanging around his neck dangling down, “and then we’re gonna fuck-”

“language!” you say on instinct and yoongi immediately snorts

that’s pretty rich coming from you, miss flip-my-skirt-up-and-fuck-me-now 

“and you know, since i’m feeling particularly generous today,” he ignores your comment about his oh-so inappropriate language, “i’ll gladly let you choose how we boink-”

(you end up riding him which we all know is the decision yoongi is more than happy with.)

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

[real-kastek]

Darkened Drabbles: Chapter 13

In Tune

(Prompt: Kris plays the piano for Susie.)

Dragon claws were much sharper than you had envisioned.

You swallow a lump in your throat, pulling your head back against the faded yellow wall and as far away from the razor-sharp nails clasped against your mouth.

"Damn birdbrain has it out for me, I swear. This is like, the third time this week that-"

Your eyes go wide as the girl's palm tightens across your face.

The scaled girl dashes away from the door's window, holding close to your side as footsteps echo in the distance.

"Crap!" She hisses, fangs glimmering in the dim sunlight streaking through the dusty room.

You sigh, the air burning against your face. As you begin to slacken against the wall once more, you peer out, silently searching for a distraction as you hid from sight. Between the patterns of mauve scales and sharpened claws, you notice stacks of books and excess school supplies, all thoroughly coated in a grey powder, likely forgotten by even the most veteran teaching staff. Each pile was haphazardly strewn about the room, many of which having fallen over throughout the years of storage, a colorful mixture of picture books and markers peeking out through the mounds. You quietly grunt to yourself. You knew the space hadn't been used for several years, but having an entire classroom to store supplies no one seemed to remember?

Your eyes narrow, a familiar picture book hiding within the nearby pile, various plants and animals in vibrant hues marking the cover.

So that's where your mom put it. You hadn't seen that book in years.

You raise an eyebrow, staring at a particularly oblong-shaped illustration of a local plant on the side of the book.

…water sausages? That's what they were called you th-

"Alright, he's probably gone. Took him long enough."

Cool air washes across your face as Susie steps away, brushing her palm against the folds of her jacket.

"Eugh…you lick me?"

You roll your eyes, stretching away from the wall, "No, but when you nearly shove your hand down someone's throat…"

You brush a bit of dust away from your sweater, peering up at the dragoness ahead, her scales turning a deeper purple in the fading sunlight.

"I-I didn't-!" She grumbles, tossing her mane to the side, "Look, I just…I don't know! I reacted or whatever!"

You wander back out into the middle of the dusty classroom, stepping over various mounds of young adult novels and broken crayons.

"Berdly's just been on my ass for everything lately. Didn't want to deal with him today, and I saw you wandering down the hall, and…"

"You kidnapped me."

"I saved you!" Susie drags her palms across her face, her grumble quickly becoming an exhausted sigh, "I mean, come on! He'd have asked you a bunch of questions and you'd be stuck dealing with all that for hours."

You pause, peering off into the distance, "…true."

"See?! So we're all good! Hell, should be thanking me for saving your butt."

You raise and eyebrow, shaking away from the thought.

"So…mind, uh…chilling here for a minute? Make sure he's actually gone?"

You turn back to the dragoness, a sheepish smile pulling at her lips. You tilt your head to the side, staring back, her gaze meeting yours. Within moments her eyes dart away, amber irises obscured under her black mane. She drags a clawed hand along the sleeve of her jacket, clinging to the patchwork material tightly.

You shrug, "Sure. Was trying to find you anyway."

You spin back around, resuming your search, a stammering sound from behind you echoing out. You carefully plod along the visibly worn tile, nearing the edge of the room. You begin tracing a finger along the dusty cabinets and shelves, a single line being drawn through the grey coating.

"I-I mean, like…cool! Yeah, we'll just hang here for a bit. In a classroom." Susie groans quietly, "Yep, this is how I wanted to spend the day. Ugh…"

You continue brushing along the wooden surfaces, your fingers eventually catching on a stouter cabinet. You stop, squinting in the dim light streaming in from the grimy window, studying the oddly familiar bit of furniture.

"Could've been halfway to the lake by now…hell, could've gone to the Dark World today." The dragoness pauses, "Crap, why didn't I just hide in the Dark World?! Damn it!"

You wince, the girl's complaints breaking into a proper roar. You shake your head, leaning down towards the rounded front of the wooden desk. Your finger floats along the base of the curved surface, gently pulling up, eyes going wide as the clasps on the sides allow the rounded frame to lift with a gentle creak. You freeze, eyes dancing along the white and black keys hidden away.

"Eh, whatever. Maybe there's something in here to do." A rumbling voice echoes out, "Hey, you spot any cards or anything? Oh, if you find something sharp, I saw this game in a movie where you see who can stab between their fingers the fastest! Guess we could do that with a marker or something…not really as fun but-"

You blink, "Uh, n-no, I haven't…" You stammer out, fingers instinctively forming along the proper keys, the specific notes hazy in your mind.

It was…high to low? No, that was the song Asriel always wanted you to play. How did it go? The nurse at the front counter always loved the song when you'd play. There weren't too many notes at the beginning. The start was mostly just vocals, but then you fade in softer keys to accentuate the lyrics. You squeeze your eyes tight, barely tapping the surface of the ivory. What were the words? If you could remember the words, at least the start, then…

Your eyes open back to the dull orange light, excitement surging through your body.

Right!

It went…when the light is running…

You allow yourself to fall into the rhythm, notes slowly forming back into your mind as the room is filled with a gentle melody. The song feels worn at first, your hands shaking against the piano long forgotten by the world. But within moments, you forget the anxiety twisting in your chest, the worry in your movements. Music flows along to the lyrics in your mind, echoing in the darkened space. Each strained pull of the piano's strings brings forth a somber sound, haunting in the moment, bringing you back to hours spent with hospital staff and patients circled round. Your eyes soften as you toss your head to the side, swinging the curtain of hair from your vision. How long ago was it? Since you waited for your mother to finish her meetings, anxiously playing song after song in the hospital's waiting room, finding peace in the melodies brought forth.

Too long to remember, but not enough to forget how to play.

The gentle tones hit a peak, finishing with a cleaner note, lighter and higher in pitch to allow an end to the imagined singer's carried words. You sigh, fingers still hovering over the keys. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, opening back to the silence around you.

And to a pair of amber eyes staring back at.

"GAH!"

You jump back, arms pulled tight to your chest.

"…huh."

"C-Crap! S-Sorry! I-" You begin stammering.

Did Berdly hear the piano?! Was he outside the door, waiting for you to finally walk out?

You spin back around, peering through the door's window.

"Crap crap crap…!"

He was probably just biding his time now, waiting to strike, an entire clipboard's worth of questions ready to interrogate you with.

"Dude."

You allow a shuddered breath to escape your lips.

Okay, worst-case scenario, you tell Susie to hide in one of the cabinets. Then you would be the only victim here.

You swallow sharply. Or maybe there was room for two people? There could be enough room. You'd have to squeeze in pretty tightly and then-

You flinch, the dragoness' claw gently poking your forehead.

"Dude, chill."

You brush away from the girl's finger, "But I just-"

Her claw returns, tapping you once more, "Birdbrain would've already beat down the door if he heard. Chill."

Your breath hitches in your chest for a moment, soon flowing out in an exhausted burst of air. You dejectedly stare up at the scaled girl, barely able to meet her gaze, a sudden heat flushing across your features.

"…sorry. I just found the piano over there and…" You gently bite the bottom of your lip, "Wanted to see if I remembered."

Silence rings throughout the room as you cling to your free arm, gaze locked onto the mounds of school supplies scattered about.

"…didn't know you could do that. Like, music and stuff."

You risk a glance above, an unreadable expression on the dragoness' maw.

You limply shrug, "…a little. Just a couple songs. Mostly did it at the hospital when I was bored waiting for my mom to finish at school."

"She teach you?" Susie crosses her arms, leaning back against a metal cabinet.

"Nah. Dad did. Taught me and my brother when we we're younger, but I don't think he remembers how to play much. He was busy with other stuff; was always out at track and field."

"…huh."

You feel another knot begin to twist in your chest as you watch the dragoness' face, much of her pensive expression hidden under a pitch-black mane.

The quiet strains in your ears as you begin squeezing your fingers, desperate to fill the open air.

"I-I know I'm not really…n-nevermind. Maybe Berdly's gone home now? I could lean out and-"

"Can you play that song again?"

You blink, the knot in your chest unraveling as you spot a soft smile broaden across the girl's maw.

"…'s kinda nice. In, like, a dorky way. I dunno." She scratches the back of her neck, barely able to hide the blooming grin, each shining fang glimmering in the dim light.

"Uh…" You hesitate, staring back at the piano, "I-I guess I could…if you want?"

The dragoness freezes, her eyes going wide as her scales flush a deeper crimson, "W-Well, no, like, I mean…" She coughs, "Y-You just looked like you were having fun! And you're face was all happy and it was nice, like, seeing you look all-"

A growl emanates from the girl as she nearly launches off from the cabinets surface, dashing past you and towards the dusted window.

"J-Just play something, alright?! A-And it better be good! No lullaby crap like Ralsei does or whatever!"

You open your mouth to speak, only for the words to fail you. Shaking away from the sight of the enflamed dragoness, you meander back over to the piano, fingers instinctively returning to appropriate keys. Glancing back over to the scaled girl, you catch her amber eyes peering back at you from under her mane. You quickly avert your gaze, pretending you didn't notice the watchful stare. Stifling the excited grin on your face, a gentle tune begins to flow into the room once more, drowning out the screaming thoughts in your mind.

You find yourself falling back into the rhythm once more, each note stretching the piano's wires away from the dust within, a confident, deep sound sweeping past your ears. Your fingers dance across each key, sinking gently and quickly into the ivory surface, allowing a natural pause for the imagined lyrics to take over. You continue playing, fading in and out of the song's moments of calm, slowly noticing a rumbling sound filling the empty spaces. Wordlessly, and without taking your fingers away from the keys, you glance over, the dragoness still facing the dusty window at your side. You focus in on the rumbling sound, attempting to tune out the piano's thrumming tones, slowly picking up on a deeper, almost guttural hum in between each note.

You listen closely to the nervous sound wavering in and out, the noise a mixture of a soft growl and almost a…purr?

You swallow sharply, reorienting your fingers to the keys. You'd never heard Susie try to sing…or hum? She was humming. Susie was humming to a song you were playing. And you were still alive to hear it?

You feel a choking sensation rise in your throat as your face begins to burn. It's not that the sound was unpleasant. Anything but. It was soothing in a way. Like the rumble of a cat but…with a hint of sandpaper-against-gravel tone. You gently bite the bottom of your lip. Not the description you would be vocalizing.

The notes begin to fade into a crescendo, the higher pitch settling alongside the imagined lyrics. The dragoness' humming grows louder for a moment, the silence of the piano allowing her voice to echo through. Within seconds the humming is gone, stifled with an exaggerated coughing sound as the girl lurches forward, covering her mouth.

"That's…uh, that's the song." You flare your hands as if to celebrate the conclusion, only to nervously place them at your sides, "So…yeah. I-I mean, I like it."

"…yeah." Susie turns back to you, heat continuing to radiate from her face's scales, "You're…actually really good at that. I knew you were good with drawing and everything, but I didn't think you could do music too."

The dragoness chuckles, a cruel grin blooming on her maw, "I mean, come on. You can play piano, you can draw dragon girls, you can fight in the Dark Wo-"

"I-I draw all kinds of people!" You stutter out, panic in your eyes, "You just, you didn't see the other sketches that-!"

Your shoulder sink down as you feel an inferno build on your face.

Susie squeaks, the noise soon exploding into laughter as she sweeps along your side, wrapping an arm over your shoulder, "Nah, it's cool, it's cool. Just didn't think you had all this stuff going on. Always so quiet all the time. Didn't know you could play decent music."

You grumble, eyes narrowing at the girl's wicked grin, "Uh-huh. Guess the song's better when I've got someone humming along. Really adds something."

You smirk as the girl's fangs soon hide away, her bemused smile draining within seconds. The shades of purple marking the girl's scales sear into a burning crimson, to the point you begin to feel a familiar twisting in your chest.

Was that too much? Her humming was cute, she shouldn't be ashamed of-

Your throat seizes as you begin to sputter. You shakily contain the thought, scrambling to mitigate the ongoing disaster.

"It was…n-nice. It was fun! Yeah! I…like your voice."

You swallow down another painful tightness in your throat.

"AH-HA! THERE YOU ARE!"

The door suddenly bursts forth as dust is thrown throughout the room, the bespectacled avian stomping through.

"How dare you! I understand you can only hold yourself to such a degree of civility throughout the day, but to glue my desk shut?! How am I supposed to retrieve my schoolwork I have tirelessly slaved over the past few days? How am I supposed to retain my own status as an honor's student with this…this display of barbarism?!"

Berdly sighs loudly, pinching the bridge of his beak between two feathered fingers, "Susan, I know it isn't fair to expect changes in behavior within such a short time frame, but please! If I cannot remain within the honor's program, I cannot provide the same kind of assistance and support to my fellow classmates! Think of the long-term consequences!"

You feel Susie's arm coil away from you as she groans, "Get off my case already! I didn't glue shit! You think I'd waste some perfectly good glue just to make your life worse? Come on."

You awkwardly stand off to the side, watching as Berdly sneers, arms crossed.

"That's the exact kind of excuse I'd expect to here from someone of such mischief! But no matter, the library, where I retain ongoing employment-!" He pauses, accentuating the words, "Has an antiadhesive that I may utilize for just such an occasion! So there!"

Susie rolls her eyes, huffing quietly.

"Well, I suppose then I will…take my leave!" Berdly's stance softens as he awkwardly begins shuffling back, "Just…just know I still consider you two colleagues and will provide assistance in educational matters per my responsibilities as an honor's-"

"Pretty sure the school is closing soon. May want to go grab the antiadhesive stuff before then." You mutter.

Berdly's beak hangs open for a moment, soon snapping shut as he freezes in place, eyes darting back to the doorway, "…r-right. Well then. I shall…erm…"

The avian dashes back through the door, his footsteps clattering down the hall.

Susie sighs as she stretches upwards, soft pops echoing out in the rapidly darkening room, "Always gotta blame me for that kind of stuff. You replace a guy's lunch box with a boulder one time…"

A snorting sound escapes your lips as a chuckle bursts forth, leaving an exhausted smile on your face.

The dragoness eyes you, a look of concern and amusement twisting along her maw, "Alright weirdo, come on. Don't wanna get locked in school either."

You nod, shuffling past mounds of school supplies, out into the hallway's cool air. You squint, the fluorescent lights burning in your vision as a clawed hand rests on your shoulder.

"Hey, so…"

You stare up and the scaled girl, burning purple still painting her maw, "…thanks for that. Like, was kinda fun. Didn't know you could play like that. It's cool."

The girl claps you on the back, sending you reeling for a moment as she passes by.

"Next time we get stuck somewhere, we're heading for the Dark World though, alright?"

You roll your eyes, barely able to contain the grin plastered on your face.

"Now come on, let's get-"

"Wait!"

Susie turns around, eyebrows raised.

"Sorry, gotta grab some stuff I left in my desk. Didn't think I was gonna be hiding in the storage room all day."

The dragoness groans, "Come on, it's almost dark out. What do you even need?"

You dash past the girl, twirling back with a look of glee.

"Superglue! Dad let me borrow some, just need to get it back before heading home!"

You twirl back around as a growl builds in the distance.

[lilyofthestyx]

Fighting for Tomorrow; Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: I don't have the brain function to come up with a witty opener so I'm getting straight to the point- I don't own AOT, its characters, or its plot points. Just a girl dicking around with shit.

AN: I know it took literally forever to get out but my god I was gonna get it out today if it killed me. I love you all and thank you so much for the support! <3

Reiner x Fem!Reader, eventual Captain Levi x Fem!Reader, Sasha x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 6.1k

TW: gore/blood/violence/death, adult language/swearing, slight PTSD, mental anguish, self-harm, grief, nightmares, insomnia, hysterics, homicide??? i guess

The walls sweat and ooze moss and moisture between cinderblocks. Everything is tainted with the smell of mildew and rotting wood. Even the ceiling groans at the smell. Fire casts teasing rays against the wall across from me- but it dares not step into the darkness of my chambers. It’s silent save for the dripping of water down the hallway and the clinking metal of the iron cuffs around my ankles.

“__________,” Reiner mumbles, his shoulder barely fitting through the bars keeping me inside. His hand rests on the outer part of my thigh, tucking me closer to the iron. To him.

My eyes slink back towards him from a patch of moss fighting through the cracks of the wall. They settle on his face. I can see the weight of sleep buried under his skin- settled deep in pockets beneath his eyes. Only tiny slits of white and gold are visible as he looks down at me. He sits on the other side of the bars with only a shoulder managing to squeeze through the rusting iron bars. Reiner hasn’t left, hasn’t slept since I got here. Refuses to. ‘Wants to keep an eye out,’ he says.

I don’t know how long I’ve been down here.

“You need to sleep,” I whisper, brushing hair out of his eyes. “Please.”

“No,” he grunts, blinking slowly, “No.”

“Rei, please.”

“I’ll sleep when you’re out of this shithole.”

My fingers stop to trail down his face. “...Rei, we don’t know if-”

“You are.”

“Listen to me, we have precedent- Eren isn’t even allowed out of Levi’s sight-”

“He can turn into a fifteen-meter Titan at will,” Reiner yawns, letting his forehead hit the bar. “You… you’re different.”

“...that’s not a good thing, either, Rei,” I whisper.

I can feel his eyes on me as I mindlessly focus on his shirt. My fingers anxiously work at the fabric, twisting it over my index finger until it can’t twist anymore and then releasing it- only to do it all over again. His chest grows with breath as he watches me in silence.

“You’re gonna be-”

The door down the hallway opens. Creaking and crackling of wood echoes off the walls- punctuated by the steps of soldiers. I can’t tell how many. My head swims as it tries to focus on the various footfalls. I haven’t slept well, if at all. I can feel it in every movement, this unseen weight. I’m slow and my brain is slower.

Reiner slowly drags himself off the bars and onto his feet. He pulls his Scout cape on and leans against the bars slightly. My hand wraps around the bar, pulling me to my knees. Boots stop just in front of me. Three, I can see now. Three pairs. Slowly, my eyes trail up to face them.

Commander Erwin. Squad Leader Hange.

Captain Shortstack.

The Commander gets down onto one knee, eyes flicking between mine. Calculating, analyzing; those eyes. I can feel unseen plans and strategies behind his irises. Does he see them? Are they locked in endless rows of shelves, ready for perusal? Or are they predictions of plans? Something that he can’t see, but feel- a hazy image in a crystal ball.

“I’m sorry we had you locked up in this place,” he says. “Do you need anything?”

I laugh coldly, grabbing the bar and shifting to face him. “...water,” I whisper hoarsely, clearing my throat.

“Hange?”

Hange nods once and disappears down the hall. I can hear the door open and close as they leave.

The Commander sighs, eyes looking around the cell. “...have you had any other visitors?”

I shake my head, tilting it towards Reiner. “Watchdog didn’t let anyone in.”

“If they were in here,” Reiner mutters, “They weren’t here long.”

The Commander nods. “...we’re lucky you came to us. There’s no need for a hearing. Darius put you in our charge- so long as you remain under Hange’s supervision.”

“Hange?” I mumble, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Eren was put with Captain Levi… why wouldn’t they do the same with me?”

The door opens and shuts again, Hange coming into view as they round the corner. A glass of water in hand, they bend over and give it to me.

“Frankly speaking,” the Commander starts as I chug the water. “It’s because you don’t turn into a fifteen meter rampaging Titan.”

As I wipe my face, I place the empty bottle down on the other side of the bars. “I don’t even know what I can… do.” I laugh coldly. “I… I just… It just happens.”

My eyes ghost over the figures in front of me. Commander Erwin kneeling down in front of me, his hand gripping a bar. Hange standing just behind him, their face shifting with the shadows cast from the torches. Reiner eyeing each of the veterans with his arms crossed over his chest.

And then there’s the Captain. His eyes lock with mine- unflinching and unreadable. I become aware of every sensation as we stare at each other. The gentle breeze from an unseen source. The prickling of my skin against the cool ground. The warmth of my stomach.

I turn away quickly, tucking into myself. I felt like… he could see everything going on in my head. Piercing, steel eyes trying to piece me together like a puzzle. I scoff at myself. I sound paranoid.

But there’s something. Something about him.

Commander Erwin clears his throat and shifts a bit in his spot. “Well… from what the reports say, you… control them. You have some sort of… ability that Hange is more than interested in.”

Hange gives me a small smile. I can see the gleam in their eyes from behind their glasses. They’ve got something planned for me- and it’ll be one helluva fun time for me when I find out what in the names of the gods it is.

Red fog snakes out from under my skin- a tiny piddling of smoke that barely extends out past my fingers. But with the way Hange gasped, I thought for a second that maybe there was an entire field of red fog just behind me. As I turned to look at them, I realised there wasn’t any.

I did, however, realise they were sprinting full-speed at me, screaming incoherently.

“Jeeeeeeennnnnnnn!” They draw out my name in an ecstatic howl, stuttering to a stop just short of me. They take my arm in their hands and take out a marker. “Where did it come out of?! Mark it!” They demand, shoving the marker into my hand.

My eyes blink slowly at the marker before I mark the section of my forearm just past the inside of my elbow. Hange screams again, snatching both my arm and the marker. “Moblit!” They screech over their shoulder, “Bring the journal!”

Moblit pushes his way past the bystanding soldiers, journal in hand, as he runs to Hange. They snatch the journal and turn to a blank page. Hastily, Hange starts to scribble a drawing of my arm into the page and draws a small ‘x’ over the same spot in the book. “And it branched out about…” Hange mumbles to themself before looking at me through their glasses. “Hold your arm exactly like you did before, please.”

I nod slowly. My arm is slightly bent, fingers bent at different angles. Hange squeals and walks to observe my arm. Without a word, Moblit pulls out a ruler and hands it to Hange. Placing it at the tips of my fingers, they measure out the length of the smoke before hastily marking it down in their notebook.

“You’ve done incredibly,” Hange mumbles breathlessly, looking over at the empty field of grass surrounding us. The sun dips low behind the soft-green hills dotted with purple and yellow flowers. The rays glow orange and red as the flowers sway in the gentle breeze. “...but I think it’s time to head back.”

“We’ll be back at it tomorrow, right?” I ask quietly, stretching and flexing my fingers under my gaze.

“Eager, are we?” Hange hums as we start walking towards the horses.

I laugh softly and shrug. “...eager to get this madness under control, I guess.”

Freckles shakes his head and huffs as we approach. Clinking of metal resounds around us in the clearing as the horses pull against their restraints. Hange flashes me a quick smile before turning to another soldier- who relays some message that’s lost in the breeze. I dip my head and turn towards the open field just before the patch of forest we kept our horses in.

It’s similar to the patch of trees where… when Reiner convinced me to come to the Commander, actually. Towering trees that suddenly spring up in the middle of the hilled valley. Our horses are kept in an alcove of sorts- a small dent in the border of the forest that is surrounded by trees but open to the field through a single wide opening to the west. Through the opening, the sun finally disappears completely under the distant hills. Clouds are now blowing in, all tinted grey and blue.

There’ll be a storm coming soon. I can feel it in the air- icy and pregnant with electricity and water. Something resounds from the north, taking my attention from the now-set sun. Untying his restraints, I take Freckles and walk slowly towards the opening in the forest. Freckles fights against me slightly as we start to near the entrance. “C’mon, big guy,” I mumble, pulling the reins. “We’re gonna be stuck in the storm anyways. Might as well see how bad it is.”

Freckles huffs and stamps his hoof into the dirt. A single whinny is enough warning. There’s another resounding crash in the distance- more pronounced and powerful. Freckles shakes his head and starts to back away from the entrance.

I turn away from the entrance, walking back to the bustling camp.

Something twitches deep in my gut.

We need to leave.

My eyes scanning over the camp, I watch as some tents are wrapped up and placed in the wagons. Supplies are strapped down in wagons and on the backs of horses. Other tents- like Hange’s and the soldiers’- are being reinforced. More spikes into the ground, more waterproof layers.

“Hange?” I call, looking from the tents to the towering trees that loom and watch us. They sway dismissively, slowly. Old gods looking down at their pitiful creation. And even further above them, the darkening clouds. Furious and turbulent, they whirl around in blue and black shadow. The harnessed power of the gods- ready to strike down blasphemous heretics.

We need to leave.

Hange appears just in front of me. “We’ll be staying even longer than I’d hoped,” they mutter, eyes focused on one of the last wagons as they pull out. “Some soldiers were called in by Commander Erwin, others I sent for more supplies. If we all went, we’d be too slow in the storm.” Hange sighs, “So, we’ll be holed up in here for a few more weeks.”

“Here?”

Hange nods absentmindedly as they take out their journal.

My eyebrows work together as my eyes flick back up to the old gods. Their bark is twisted in a warning malice, their branches snapping and scratching in a brittle apprise. We have stepped on sacred ground- tarnished a temple.

They’re warning us.

“Hange,” I say quietly, tearing my eyes off the gods as they demand our departure in a language lost to time.

“Hm?” They mumble, still looking down at their journal.

“...I… there’s something wrong.”

Hange closes the book and looks up at me. “...what is it?” They ask. Their voice is flat. Cold. Calculating. I can see their eyes analytically gliding across the camp.

“There’s something out there,” I whisper, my eyes focused on the inner, shadowy heart of the forest. “There’s… there’s just something. I… I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Explain what?”

My eyebrows furrow as my gaze drops to the floor. My head tilts slightly. “...I just… I feel like… I’ve… seen... this happen before.”

“This…?” Hange asks, “What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” I mumble, eyes trailing up towards the sky. “It just… feels familiar… wrong.”

Hange and I go quiet. I can feel their eyes on me before they follow my gaze to the clouds as they begin to swirl in an almost sickly mess of yellow, green, black, and blue.

“...Moblit!” Hange finally calls. Moblit is at their side in an instant. Hange turns and points out past the entrance of the forest. “We’ll be moving camp out from the forest.”

Moblit’s nods slow as his eyebrows weave together. “...out… of the forest?”

“Out. We’ll hole up against the hills in the west.”

Hesitation is prevalent in Moblit’s delayed movements. He slowly pulls away from Hange and stammers directions to the soldiers. Hange places a hand on my shoulder and looks out of the entrance. With a sigh, their glasses glaze over with a sheen that prevents me from seeing through to their eyes. “...ride out and lead the wagons towards a spot with more shelter,” they mutter, still looking out towards the hills being consumed by clouds.

Snarling, the black fog slithers in towards the hills. Hange turns and walks towards their tent without another word. Gripping the reins, I pull myself onto Freckles’ back and urge him forward.

Whatever I’ve seen before, whatever memory that is deep inside the crevices of my brain- I know it was a warning.

A deep breath fills my lungs as my eyes shoot open. My arm is outstretched- reaching for something that once hovered above me. Fingers trembling, red smoke starts to recoil back under my skin. I can feel it retracting under my muscles like a snake to its hole. With a huff, my arm hits my bed.

Someone clears their throat.

I turn over in bed to look at the voice. It’s Moblit. His eyes are trained on my arm, his fingers hovering over his blades. His clothes stick to his skin, dripping with rain.

“...nightmare,” I whisper, sitting up and rubbing the inside of my forearm.

Moblit nods slowly before pulling the tent flap open again. “...there’s something you need to see,” he says, stepping out of the tent.

I pull myself out of bed, throwing my cape on and pulling the hood over my head. Stepping out, I enter a war of wind and water. Rivulets of water already start to cascade down my arms- my cape soaked through in moments. Wind whips the fabric around my legs like hard whips, cracking against my thighs.

Moblit leads me forward. Mud squishes under my feet, sucking my legs into the earth’s body as I trudge forward. He leads me up to the crest of the hill we hid behind. Hange stands at the very top, hair and fabric tossed around as the wind ravages their body. They remain focused on the distance. Moblit stops at their side, focused on the same spot in the distance.

Blinking rapidly as watery knives carve my skin, I draw the blurred copies in my vision back into focus. The patch of forest we had originally set up in- that’s what they’re looking at. I squint, put a hand up to shield my eyes from the wind.

Titans. A dozen of them. Half of them stand in the shelter of the woods, the other half making their way towards the trees.

“...we would’ve been trapped,” Hange mumbles above the howl of the wind. “If we had stayed.”

We go silent, watching the Titans congregate in the trees before they all slip even deeper in the forest.

“...I’ve never seen them act like that,” Moblit says quietly.

“Neither have I,” Hange adds, their eyes sliding over to me.

“...I… I haven’t either,” I whisper, shaking my head. “...I… I think I haven’t.”

We go silent again but there’s no mistaking a few things. The main being that we would’ve died in a surprise attack had we stayed. The next being how little we know about these beasts.

And the most daunting- how little we know about this… power… flowing under my skin.

And how little I know how to control it.

“Control it,” Hange directs sternly, their voice focused.

“...I’m… trying,” I mutter, arms and hands locked and trembling. The smoke floods from my veins and muscles- wrapping around the Titan just a few meters away from me. It’s thick, red as it slithers around the Titan’s arms, legs, and face.

“Keep going,” Hange says firmly.

With a grunt, I lean into the fog. A low yell builds up from my stomach as I continue to push forward. ‘Stand’, I tell the Titan. ‘Stand.’

It refuses, pushing against my fog with a hunger-fueled strength. The jaws open and snap shut, fingers claw into the dirt towards us.

I plant my feet and push even harder. My voice tears as it strains out a growling scream. The Titan thrashes as another wave of red smoke surrounds it. ‘Stand’, I tell it.

A single word hits me.

‘Why?’

My body loses tension. I know I didn’t think it- I know it was from… something, somewhere. The Titan- No. No, no cognitive thought like that could come from Titans that aren’t like Eren. No, this is deeper.

From me.

I asked myself.

Why do I want it to stand?

What purpose does that serve?

What goal does that achieve?

Memories of falling, memories of Trost come running back. The forest- I saved Reiner and myself. Trost- I saved myself. Those were the goals, the purposes then. To save him and myself.

So find a goal for this, __________.

Hange’s yells finally slam against my ears. “__________! Get out of there!”

My eyes focus on the Titan emerging from the smoke, hands outstretched in an effort to grab me. My body tightens. The loose smoke mirrors my movements- tightening like a snake around the Titan. The Titan howls as the smoke enters its mouth and nose.

‘Stop’, I tell it.

I can feel it thrash against me. Planting my foot deeper in the dirt, I grit my teeth. More smoke enters its body.

‘Stop’.

The Titan stills. It heaves with breath, hunched over. The smoke dissipates but I can feel it.

We are one. I am in control. It obeys my command- I could tell it to devour itself and it’d begin tearing into its flesh.

Slowly, the Titan stands up straight.

The eyes. They glow red. Bright and intense like crimson suns. Just like the Titan in Trost. Just like the Titans in the forest. They come to rest on me. I relax and stand up. I can hear the murmurs of soldiers and the excited chatter from Hange- now faraway and distant.

The Titan lifts an arm. The soldiers jump and gasp behind me. Huffing a laugh, I sit down in the grass and watch the fingers dig into the skin behind its neck. With a single tug, the Titan’s body goes limp with its own steaming nape clutched in its hand. The body falls backward. It collides with the grass and dirt to send a spray of dust out behind it.

The soldiers are silent.

Hange walks up to stand beside me, overlooking the decaying corpse. “...did you…?” they ask quietly.

“I did,” I groan my head starts to throb and pulse. Heat begins to flood my skull furiously. My fingers rub circles in my temples as my eyes pinch closed.

Hange places a hand on my shoulder and I can hear them squat down beside me. “...I think that’s enough for now,” they mutter as something streams down my nose. “We’ll… meet up with Captain Levi and the other Scouts at HQ tomorrow. I think you’ve had enough practice away from everyone.”

I open my eyes as I wipe my nose. As my hand pulls away, I can see my skin is stained with a thick streak of blood. Moblit appears next to me, offering a handkerchief. Slowly, I take it and hold it under my nose. Hange and Moblit both help me to my feet. Moblit barks orders at soldiers to pack up the wagons as Hange leads me to my tent.

I push the flap open and plop down onto my bed. Weights are strapped onto every muscle, pulling down every movement.

This is how it is. My power- it’s limited. Controlling Titans drains my energy and leaves me wounded the more I use it. It was a nosebleed this time- but there have been times gashes form even though I haven’t been touched. It always feels like something is tearing me apart from the inside out when it gets to that point.

The point of these experiments lately have been to... build endurance. Make it so I can do more without the consequence of being ripped to shreds by my own power.

And controlling Titans isn’t even the thing that really drains me.

It’s healing myself and others that siphons energy and time before my body starts to physically tear. Minor scratches, cuts, bruises- those don’t do anything more than make me lightheaded for a few moments. But more serious wounds require more time and energy.

And there’s a possibility if the injury is too much, I may end up killing myself while healing someone else.

Hange theorizes I need more practice to heal more complicated injuries without injuring myself.

But as I use my power more and more, there have been more and more… complications.

More nightmares, more visions. I can see more detail with each day. Innocents slaughtered by red fog, blood staining my hands. There are moments when I’m healing something when a sudden inclination hits me. When I’m healing, I feel like... reversing the healing I’ve done and then stealing the person’s health even further.

There was one instance… when I was healing someone after a particularly stressful day of experiments. I was focused on creating skin under my hands when my vision went dark. The next thing I remember was Moblit pulling me away from the soldier while Hange checked over him. I had been sent to my tent with guards until Hange entered hours later. They told me that I had not only retracted the healing I had done, but made the gash fester and grow until it consumed the soldier’s entire forearm to the bone.

It had only been a rope burn that I was treating originally.

...I don’t even remember doing it. I don’t even remember having the thought of doing it. If I could just remember battling the thought, trying to keep it at bay-

“How are you feeling?” Hange asks, sitting down beside my bed with their notebook. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“...I was just thinking about that soldier.”

Hange nods. “...there’s a lot about this power we still don’t understand,” they say softly.

“Still,” I mutter, “I… I was… I was a nurse. I wanted to be a doctor, I signed up for the Scouts- I did all that because I want to help humanity, not… aid in its destruction.”

“You are helping humanity... By learning to wield this power, you’re helping us take back what was taken from us,” Hange says firmly before chuckling. “...and besides, mistakes are good teachers.”

I roll my eyes and laugh softly. “...that was cheesy, Glasses.”

Hange shrugs, “It’s not wrong.”

Sighing, I nod. “...I guess.”

A few moments of silence pass before Hange clears their throat. “You’ll… you’ll be back with the others tomorrow.”

I smile gently. “...it’s been a few weeks,” I mumble, “What’s happened since we’ve been out here?”

Hange’s smile fades.

Slowly, I sit up and take their hand. “...Hange?”

“...terrible things,” they whisper, eyes glazed as they stare unblinkingly at a spot on my bed.

We go silent. Their hand clenches around mine as they take a long, slow breath. Swallowing thickly, their eyes slowly meet with mine. “After you were… when you came to Commander Erwin about your power,” they start before taking another deep breath. “...the entirety of Levi Squad was…”

My heart stops. I can feel every sensation amplify and see each moment a million times over. A blade of grass shaking in the wind. A dewdrop dripping off the edges of the canvas tent flap. A rough patch of their fingers catching on the fabric of their cape.

“...Eren?” I breathe out. “Is Eren-”

“Eren’s alive,” Hange says quickly, placing a hand on my shoulder and tightening their grip. “Eren’s alive and well.” Hange chuckles, “...got into a bit of a scuffle with the Female Titan but he’s alive.”

My eyes roll back into my head with a breathy laugh. “Thank the gods,” I mumble, my eyes shut. “Thank the gods…”

“But, __________,” Hange’s hand squeezes my shoulder. My eyes open in response, landing on their face. Their eyebrows drawn, tears prick their eyes. “...Eld’s gone.”

I can feel my heart clench with their words. Eld’s gone. Another one taken from me. Slowly, I nod. “Can… can I have a moment? Alone, please.” I ask breathily, my voice slightly scratching with tears.

Hange nods and gets up. Another shoulder-squeeze and they walk out of my tent without another word.

Laying back down, I remember those nights after Shiganshina fell. The running, the fighting, the searching. Terrifying beasts disguised as men following me in the moonlight. Fending off those beasts’ kin that wished to drag me into complacent subservience for their own fleshly satisfaction. Looking for kids in the darkest pits of the Underground.

And those gaunt, sun-starved, malnourished people living- existing- in the Underground. Pale, clammy hands grasping at my ankles like damned souls from Hell. The pleading, wailing, begging for mercy and healing. To be cured. To be treated like a human being. And then there were those who damned me. Damned me for being born above the ground, being fortunate. They, diseased and broken, spat at me for nothing more than being alive.

And who could’ve blamed them?

I helped where I could, when I could. I had never seen so many people in one spot with so many different types of diseases- some practically extinct above ground. It was a festering shithole. But I gained a reputation, connections, information. While I worked on family members and friends, I asked those who could answer if they had any idea where I could find the kids. People would point me down a path as payment and I’d set off. And then I was pointed to that asshole.

I sigh and roll over, tucking the blanket up over my head. With each blink, moments of that night flash. I was looking for the kids- he was someone who dealt with the field detail they had issued as a last-ditch effort to cultivate the land. I was told he could help me find where the kids were assigned; which field, which town, something.

What a waste of time.

‘From the sound of it,’ he had said as he took a sip of wine, ‘you’re desperate.’

I told him no, that I was just being thorough, that I had no doubt they were alive and well and out of trouble.

He had laughed. A cruel, cold, rasping laugh that made my skin crawl. When he finally stopped, he looked at me like a wolf looked at prey. Not sexually, not pervertedly, no. Just like prey. Hunter and hunted. ‘I’ll help you find them,’ he swore with another sip, ‘if you do something for me in return.’

I asked him what he wanted.

He smiled, leaned in. I can still see the gleam in his eyes. ‘I want you to kill Captain Levi and Commander Erwin Smith.’

I asked him why. Why he would want the Commander and Captain dead.

‘The Captain went back on our deal,’ he had said. ‘And the Commander is far too ambitious for his own good.’

I groan, tossing back the cover.

I had entertained the idea. I had thought about it- even if it was for a moment. I debated the morality of it all. Humanity’s Strongest Soldier and the leader of the Scouts in exchange for three innocent children- for three of my children. There was a moment when I was weak, when I was desperate enough to seriously consider it.

But I knew.

I knew I could find them myself. I knew it would’ve been a lot more of a sacrifice than just the Commander and the Captain.

I would’ve damned the entirety of humanity for my family.

If Eld hadn’t found me that night, if I hadn’t been convinced in my grief to join the Scouts- I would’ve done it. I would’ve crawled back to that offer and cut myself, bled myself dry of humanity and loyalty to my species in order to save my family.

Eld was the person that showed me how to keep my humanity. Eld was the person that helped me find my family.

And now he’s gone, too.

“There’s a reason why we brought you back from training,” the Commander admits, sitting down across from me with a sigh.

My eyebrows knit together as I look over to Hange. They turn their head to avoid my gaze. Turning to face the Commander, I tilt my head slightly. “...what is it?” I ask quietly.

“You’re to be processed by the courts with Eren.”

Chills slide rampantly along my skin. Being sent to the courts means my existence lies in the hands of a single man- Darius. That my being allowed to live would be debated the same way someone would debate killing a bug.

And for Eren, it may mean he…

“Commander,” I mumble, my eyes dotting with tears as the walls start to close in around me. “Commander- Eren, he’ll-”

“I know,” he says, his eyes simultaneously soft with sympathy and harsh with reality.

“But we have a plan,” Hange cuts in, their voice gentle.

“What is it?” I ask, taking a strained breath in.

“We’ll be using body doubles for you and Eren when the Military Police come to take you in,” the Commander starts, “You’ll be assisting us in another way… a way that rebels against the MP’s rule.”

I tilt my head slightly to the side. “...which is…?”

“You’re going to use your power to help us capture a spy amongst the Scouts.”

“...a spy?” I ask quietly, eyebrows weaving together at his words. A spy for the Titans? Who would-

My face relaxes with realization. The Female Titan. They found her operator. They know who controls that Titan. And they’re one of us.

“...who is it?”

“That will be revealed when you see her in person,” Commander Erwin states. “I’m sure you understand the secrecy.”

I nod slowly. If they announced her identity, any associate of hers could and would run to tell her about the plan and she’d disappear. Or worse. She may transform and lay waste to humanity from the inside out.

“Commander?”

“Yes, __________?”

“...this traitor,” I mutter, “my powers may not work on her. We’ve never tried to use my power on a Titan being controlled by a human.”

“Yes… Hange had told me about that. Even if your powers don’t work on her, you can prove to be a valuable asset that assists us. Hange tells me of your healing capabilities.”

I nod once. “Yes, sir… I can heal injuries fairly well. I… I can’t fix severed limbs but… I can make it so someone doesn’t die from losing an arm or having a leg torn off.”

The Commander smiles slightly. “An advantageous ability.”

I dip my head. “Thank you, sir.”

“You should get going,” the Commander says softly. “You’ve been gone for a long time- I’m sure there are some faces you’ve missed.”

“Yes, sir,” I mumble, getting up from my seat. “Thank you, sir.”

Breaking out into a sprint, a breathy laugh leaves my lips. Sasha drops a plate of food and runs to me. “You’re back!” She giggles, taking me into a hug. “How was it? Did they do anything to you?”

I shake my head and watch over her shoulder as the others clamber over seats to get to us. “It was a lot of experiments- but nothing like what the Military Police would’ve had done.”

“Well, look who’s back,” Jean says, a joking smirk on his lips. “It’s… it’s good t’have ya back, Mom.” I pinch his side as he takes me into a hug.

“So you’re like Eren now, huh?” Connie asks, wrapping his arms around me. “All power-y ‘nd whatever.”

I shrug, looking down at my hands. “I’m not nearly as… I’m not exploding into a Titan, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“Pfft, no,” Connie scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I mean you’re like. Cool… ‘r something.”

“Please,” I laugh, “I was cool a long time before that...” I stop, looking around the kitchen, “Where ‘re the others?”

“Eren, Mikasa, ‘nd Armin were with Bertholdt ‘nd Reiner just a second ago…,” Sasha mumbles, turning to survey the kitchen. “I thought I-”

My eyes slide over the entrance, where the five of them stand talking. “Found ‘em.” I turn to Sasha and give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be right back. Gotta go say hi t’the meathead.”

“Bring ‘em over,” Connie offers, “We can eat in the courtyard.”

Ducking my head, I start towards the group. Reiner is joking with Eren, grabbing him by the shoulder and quickly rubbing his knuckles on his hair. Eren thrashes around and pushes him off with a smile. Mikasa cracks a smile as she watches them in silence. Armin’s talking quietly with Bertholdt, who nods slowly at his words.

“Hey!” I call, waving my arm over my head. “Rei! Mikasa!”

Their faces all turn towards me, their eyes wide and movements frozen. Armin’s the first to break into a sprint for me- Mikasa, Eren, Reiner, and Bertholdt hot on his heels. As he collides with me, his arms wrap around me. “You were gone for so long!” Armin mumbles, pulling away to look up at me.

“Too long,” Reiner huffs as he stumbles to a stop just in front of me. “Way, way, way too long.”

“So what’d they do?” Eren asks, “Did Hange have you go down a well too?” The rest of us turn to face him, our eyebrows drawn and mouths hanging open slightly. Eren blushes and shrugs. “...that’s… that’s what they did t’me.”

“Well, I mean, I don’t exactly turn into a giant, pissed-off Titan,” I tease, ruffling his hair. “So there weren’t any wells.”

“But what about-?!”

“We can discuss it over dinner,” I interrupt gently, “I just rode all day t’get here, I’m starving.”

“I’ll grab you something,” Mikasa offers, taking Armin and Eren’s wrists.

“We’ll be in the courtyard, okay?”

With a single nod, the three of them hurry off to the food. Bertholdt clears his throat, “It’s… it’s great t’see you again,” he says with a small smile. “I… I should go make sure they don’t start another fight with Jean.”

“‘They’?”

“...I should go make sure Eren doesn’t start another fight with Jean.”

“Thank you,” I smile as he starts off after them.

Reiner sighs heavily, taking my hand softly. “Gods, I’m glad you’re back.”

My smile grows as our fingers interlace. “...I’m glad to be back.”

The two of us watch as Bertholdt tries to defuse the tension between Eren and Jean. They’re snarling and barking like foaming-mouth dogs while Bertholdt has Eren by the collar. He’s sweating as he hurriedly calms the two down. Mikasa watches with a plate of food, saying something to Armin that makes him burst into laughter.

“...ya know,” Reiner mumbles, leaning down to whisper into my ear. “...they won’t be done for a bit.”

“What’re you implying?” I smirk.

“You know exactly what.”

“...bet I can beat my record.”

“Well, I mean… it’s been a while since…”

“You didn’t-?” I stop myself and shake my head. “Whatever, I’m still beating my record.”

The two of us stumble out into the courtyard, a giggling mess. “Told ya I’d beat my record,” I puff my chest out proudly.

“You really expect me t’last when you look like that?” Reiner scoffs, “You have way too much faith in me.”

He takes my hand as we walk towards the others. Sasha spots us and waves her arm over her head, gesturing to the spot they have laid out on the grass. It’s oddly peaceful- the calm before the storm. Tomorrow we’ll root out a traitor in our ranks. A friend, possibly, working against us for…

For them. Titans. For reasons unknown.

Hopefully tomorrow brings us some answers.

[thefugitivemango]

Tower Ascendance - Part II

[[ Co-written with @sylaess & @kidcatgemini / @codegemini ]]

[[ Part I ]]

~*~

Sylaess felt rooted for a moment, staring at the lone wisp that stayed with her. She’d been so deep in thought, she’d missed the sounds. The signs. It had been quiet for too long. It felt like her heart had plummeted through her chest and into the floor, an impressive feat, considering the incessant hunger for power. For sustenance. 

Such as it was to be undead.

“...We need to run. Don’t fall, don’t lag. Don’t stop to fight. Fucking run.”

Her voice was oddly calm. Flat.

Both swords were in her hands, but she didn’t move yet. Pulling on a quick set of runes, a rapidly modified spell that she wasn’t sure of--

It worked. It was fragile. But it worked. The spirits nearby fled before them in a wave, suddenly. She was pushing them. Well, it was more like suggesting a direction, but it worked nonetheless. Her skin felt tight across her skull, teeth clamped in concentration. 

Still, that single wisp stayed. 

The elf swore softly at it.

Argonas wasn’t in the habit of running from fights. His grip tensed, tightening around the handle of his hammer. As Sylaess, Sinafay, and the host of wisps all made haste down the stairway, Argonas held. What mattered was getting them out, after all. Self-preservation wasn’t his highest priority here.

“--Go, I will buy you the time you need, and meet you down there!” he instructed, once Sylaess and Sinafay were too far to intervene. 

“Argonas--”

But it was too late. He already careened ahead of them in a show of protective light. Thankful he had that blessing, but now more concerned than ever at their chances of escape, Sylaess grit her teeth, slamming her blades into their sheaths hastily. 

He charged up the stairs, hammer and shield at the ready-- that’s when he laid eyes on the Tarragrue. Impossibly massive, brimming with a blazing core and adorned with plated spikes. Its eyes pierced into Argonas’ soul, filling his mind with thoughts of dread and weighing his heart with despair! A creature of nightmare, through and through! It let out a booming bellow that shook the tower itself before lunging for Argonas!

But the Draenei was undeterred! The Light was with him! Luminescent wings sprouted forth from his back, as his hammer was charged in holy Light! The shimmering of a divine blessing glistened across his broad-shouldered form! He met the Tarragrue’s charge with his own, crying out final instructions to his beloved and friend!

“Follow the Light runes!”

*BAP!*

A streak of radiant gold and purple flew back down the hallway, cascading down the stairs like a tumbling boulder down a hillside. Argonas slammed into a wall, then skipped over the stairs’ railing, flopping like a ragdoll as he smacked into one side, then the other, of the open spiral staircase Until finally, he fell flat on his back at the very base of the stairs-- right in front of Sylaess and Sinafay. He should have died, were it not for the Light’s blessed protection of his mortal form. 

Dazed, but unhurt, he quickly scrambled to his hooves, and cleared his throat.

“... I have decided that I should lead you to the exit. This way!”

“Honestly, I do not know what I expected,” Sinafay sighed, but then couldn’t help but crack a smile despite the situation, “Good to see you have not changed, My Love.”

She reached down to help him up… only to remember that she couldn’t even do that as her hands moved right through. They may as well have been on two different planes of existence.

“Quickly!” She urged, as the entire room seemed to shake under the behemoth’s steps.

“You fucking idiot, don’t stop to chat it up!” 

“Whatever you do, don’t stop running. It knows we’re here now.” 

The thin elf raced forward to haul on his shoulder. Pull the behemoth of a draenei into a run by sheer will alone if she had to. But she was unnaturally strong.

“This is not the time for heroics. Time to run like the little bitches this place made of us.”

Those onyx eyes glanced back sharply at the incoming absolute marker of death. Felt it again. That sudden grip of fear down to her core. Had she seen this thing before, then? She certainly had heard it.

Her breath caught on it. It was one of those premonition feelings that had a habit of coming back to bite later. That was not what she wanted right now.

Argonas had learned his lesson. He kept running, looking back only to ensure the others were keeping pace. He was moderately fast, for a Draenei weighed down in so much plate armor. Practice. His shield kept affixed to his back, hammer in his hand. The other hand reached out, causing the Lightrunes he’d left behind to emit a resonant glow. In such a dark and dismal place, the glowing runes weren’t hard at all to spot. 

The Vindicator led the group further down the tower, each new twist in the corridor looking no different than the last anymore, save for the runes. They were helpful… while they lasted. Had they missed one? Taken a wrong turn? Argonas slowed for the sake of searching, before grunting in frustration. He then stopped. The trail had gone cold.

“Either they could not endure the dark magic of this place… or the corridors changed too much.” he reported, frowning. “We cannot go back the way I came in.”

As far as they ran, however, the sounds of the massive Tarragrue still echoed intensely from behind them. Argonas looked around, formulating a plan as quickly as he could. The room they had stopped in had several cages and chains, but little else. The left-side wall wasn’t constructed, but sheer stone that extended several meters up. But it looked as if it terminated at a certain point before the high half-cavernous ceiling-- a faint, ominous glow highlighting the gap.

It was something, at least.

“Stand back!”

He set for one of the nearby cages. A massive one, that could very easily contain him behind the dense, sturdy bars. A length of chain remained affixed to the base of it, coiled in a semi-neat pile beside it. He sheathed his hammer to his hip, and squatted down before the cage. He grunted, gripping the heavy cage tightly as he hefted it up off the ground. He swung it slowly, left. Then right. Then left again with more momentum. Right, and up slightly. Left, leveling out. Again and again as he swayed with the momentum. 

The monster’s footsteps echoed louder and louder, drowned out only by its angered roars.

Argonas kept focused. The momentum built with each swing, until he finally brought the cage fully around himself. Once, twice, three times, spiraling in almost a dance with one hoof rounding about the other. 

Then released! The cage flew up in a steep arc, sailing up the height of the stone wall. It smashed through the gap, lingering a moment as it teetered… then grinding against the stone as it slipped behind it. A brief moment of silence, then a thunderous crash reverberating through the floor beneath them. The chain, of course, followed, now dangling straight up the wall. 

“Climb! Quickly!” Argonas ordered, taking a brief moment to catch his breath after the exertion.

A very brief moment-- the Tarragrue had begun descending the winding stairs that led to their chamber!

Syl turned her back on the chain for a moment, squaring off with a small crowd of spirits and fragments that followed after her like a lost bit of cloud. She bared her teeth slightly, looking for one. That one.

Sinafay had no issues climbing up the chain. Her ethereal form was as light as could be with no mortal form to weigh her down. She made it to the top long before the other two, only to freeze as she saw what lay next. 

“I swear on my undying breath if you do, I’ll--”

A wisp burst past her, following Sinafay up the chain almost amicably. Sylaess’ teeth clenched so hard it was audible. It wasn’t clear if she was angry or simply upset at this point, but it sure stirred up the party she collected. Those black eyes turned on Argonas.

“Up. Now. Please.”

Another chain, much thicker than the one they’d climbed, attached to the wall she stood on and led upwards to a cavern entrance. Below was nothing but hot lava. Even as a spirit, she could feel the heat rising from it, and was more than aware that it would burn her just as badly as any mortal. 

“I desperately hope the two of you are good at balancing,” she called over her shoulder.

A small hop down and she landed at the base of the chain. Keeping her determined gaze focused on the mouth of the cavern, she began taking careful steps towards her goal. One hoof at a time.

"--Light help me…" the Vindicator muttered under his laboured breath. 

Running, heaving, climbing, all had worn him out to no small degree. And now a chain bridge suspended over a lake of lava was their only way forward? The heat was sweltering; already he could feel his armor starting to conduct the heat. He couldn't endure it for too long. 

Hastily, muttering, he began to strip off his plate. Shoulders, gauntlets, chestpiece… grace and leg plates too. It pained him to abandon his Vindicator's plate, but it had to be done. He stripped it all, down to his cloth pants and a few leather straps on his arms. Chest bare, runic scars glistening from perspiration. 

Unceremoniously, he left the lot of them in a heap atop the wall, before venturing out towards the chain bridge.

With no actual memory to tie the fear to, it was easier to digest as unfounded. Push aside. 

Sylaess hauled herself up the chain with a lot more ease than she had anticipated. Maybe it was the pressing threat of the Tarragrue, maybe it was the hint of hope at escape. Either way, she didn’t really dawdle when her feet slipped once.

Up over the edge, she had to blink and ... wait, what?

Argonas dropping his armor was not what she’d have put a bet on for sights to see on the wall. Gods. Sinafay had stopped halfway up the chain to look over her shoulder at the other two. To her, Argonas stripping down was a treat, and her tail swayed a bit wider as she couldn’t help but take it all in. He’s certainly been working out more since Argus… and her first time actually -seeing- the Fel scars from their torture at the hands of the Sagerei. Sylaess, on the other hand, blinked, looking away for a moment. Then the realization hit her. Lava. Fire. They were considerably high up, too; as if it weren't a harrowing enough situation.

Oh, are you fucking kidding me? 

Argonas swallowed hard, taking a wary step out onto the broadside of the giant chain links. One hoof, then the other, doing his best to keep his eyes on the other side. His goal. His--

His misstep. 

His hoof scraped the metal link as it slid off to the side of it. His balance lost, he toppled. Quickly as he could, he gripped onto the upright link beside him to keep from falling over, but only managed to hook an arm over it. He gasped, the heat making him sweat. His sweat compromising his grip…

"We are most assuredly talking about this later!" Argonas blurted out, scowling.

Sylaess’ hand brushed over one of the hilts jutting above her shoulders lightly, almost lovingly, in distraction. Her runes again glimmering to a dull roar. Icy wind rushed down around her and fled, leaving her glittering in tiny crystals. Sporadic, sure, and melting. But they helped negate the oppressive heat. Breath in. Sigh out.

“Okay.” Another exhale, slowly. She drew the rune in the air at her side.

The wisps and spirits recoiled--but were yanked in a moment. Some of them disappeared.

The elf became ever-so-faintly translucent. Hazy, even. Something about it didn’t work right. She stepped onto the chain, light as air. Stalked her way up to Argonas and reached down to draw him back up with unnatural strength. “Don’t ask, just go. And don’t you dare zap me right now.”

She breathed the words, drawing the second rune. Drawing him into the shell of the spell. wraith-walking was a little awkward when you were already in the Shadowlands. What realm were they side-stepping into? Who the fuck knew! But it was better than a hot dip.

As much as he appreciated the assist, this coercion-- and possible sacrifice?-- of souls expended in order to phase him into a more spiritual state was NOT something he was okay with! It stood against everything he had cone here for; to save souls, not cause them further anguish. Or worse.

Survival, however, took the forefront of his mind. His instincts. Escaping was paramount. Getting them all free of this accursed place was a mission of such importance that, while he wouldn't admit aloud, allotted for no small degree of concession of his morals and principles. Acting now. Justifying or reconciling later.

Syl merely affected a grunt in response. Not looking forward to that conversation.

Behind the wall, the Terragrue roared, once more filling their senses with fear, even knowing it could no longer reach them.

“Keep going!” Sinafay encouraged, having managed to complete her trek and reach the mouth of the cave, “Do not look back!”

Being phased into a spiritual state was mildly disorienting. The Vindicator’s body felt lighter, yet somehow it dragged as if he was pulling it through water behind him. It served its purpose though, keeping light helped keep him balanced. He crossed the chain along with Sylaess and Sinafay without any further trouble.

"I did not come from this way… I am unsure where to go from here." he stated his disclaimer. "But now we are safe from that thing."

The Tarragrue roared, as if in response to his statement.

"... for the moment."

“I can ask in a few minutes, but I suggest we find a way down. That’s all we can do.”

The phase shift of wraith-walking left her and she sagged a bit harder than she thought she would. Blinked dumbly. ‘Oh for the sake of being undead, you’re dropping the ball hard, Syl. Some undead strength,’ she mocked herself viciously. ‘You even sure this is real?’

Her legs jellied as she lumbered forward a step or two. She reached out for the cave wall and promptly fell over. Graceless as before. Maybe she had been using too much, drawing too much power from a dry well. Maybe she was just damaged. Then again, withdrawal was a hell of a ride.

It was an odd sensation watching the world’s axis shift from horizontal to vertical. A resigned sort of acknowledgement somewhere far from personal came to her. Thoughts drifted away in a fog as she had another seizure. The tremors stiffening her body to the point of joints creaking alarmingly and armor scraping the stone in a high-pitched whine. Her jaw was clenched hard enough to make a cracking noise.

The wisp settled on her temple, flaring slightly. At one moment, you could swear you could see the vague outline of a face in it, but it wasn’t strong enough for that.

[naptoons]

Heyyy girl can I request a nick imagine where we are quarantined with the rest of the boys?

Hey dear!! And You got it darling!!

Polaroids- Nick Mara

Summary: being stuck in the house with your bestfriends seemed fine for a while but it started to make you anxious when you have to see nick everyday. Also known as your crush.

Warnings: fluff is all.

A/N: I hope this is good my dear!! But I had so much fun writing this one. I was in my feels today so fluff it is! I love taking requests they’re so fun.

Proofread: yes/no

You only meant to visit the boys and hang out with them, then leave the following week. You were in town for a vacation from college. Spring break made you happy finally a break from everything stressful.

Now here you are stuck with the boys with no way of going home because of this pandemic. Not that you didn’t mind being with them, it’s just that you were soon running out of clothes and your car was stuck at the airport in your hometown. Nick ended up sparing some of his clothes with you, while you ordered some to be shipped. While wearing his clothes Zion and Edwin would constantly tease you about it “Aw look at you being a cute girlfriend” Zion teased

“Shut the fuck up Zion” you spat, having the desire to strangle him

“What he is your boyfriend, so actually ask him out dude!, what are you scared of?”

“Rejection, ending a friendship, awkward moments” you defend yourself

“Oh shut up dude, it could never end y’all relationship, y’all are closer than us and we’re a band, we also live together!” Zion counterattacks, you look at Edwin to see if he agrees, to which he nods as he places his phone down. “Zion is right, most times he isn’t be this time he is right”

“But listen! It can get awkward because if he says he doesn’t feel the same way about me then where am I going to sleep? I sleep in nick’s room and plus I’m stuck here with him”

“Aye! Don’t act like we kidnapped you!” Edwin throws a pillow at you, squinting your eyes you throw it back at him to which he blocks it out his way.

“Listen it’s no or never, people can only wait for so long before they give up” Zion ruffles your hair before heading towards the closet “board game night!!” Edwin yells towards Zion, what if everything he said was true. What if your fear was slowly making nick fall out of love with you. But what if he never liked you at all. Standing up you walked towards his room to grab your Polaroid camera and films but bumped into a shirtless nick head first. Bouncing back you night your lower lip staring at your toes.

“Where you going speedy?” Nick laughs slightly, brushes his thumbs against your cheek, calling you ‘speedy’ was a joke between you guys, because anytime you were passionate or nervous about something you spoke so fast. That no one could comprehend, but nick does.

“Just-just going to the room to grab my camera, we’re having board game night you should join!” You smile your heart pounding against your ribcage, you walk into the room searching for your camera, as you found the films first, you heard the door close along with the closet being opened and closed. Turning around nick was closer to you than you thought. Almost tripping over your shoes on his floor, he grabbed you by your waist crashing you into his chest.

“Are you okay y/n? You’ve been hella jittery lately” nick furrows his eyes in confusion, your ears starting to flood up in color, you couldn’t even look him in the eyes without your face turning red. “Nothing— im okay just thinking a lot you know?” Nick’s eyes shallowing in disbelief he really wants to help you, he cares about you so much and never wants you to deal with heavy emotions alone.

“Hey dont look at me like that” you start off while rubbing his forearm “I’ll be okay I swear, I am okay”

Nick’s eyes shifting whole examining your whole face, Nick wondered how you’re so beautiful inside and out, and no has treated you the way you treat others. “M’kay” Nick answers “you got your Polaroid?”

“No, I have no clue where I put it” you chew on your lower lip looking through the nightstand drawers, Nick chuckles while sitting on the bed, his fingers dig into your waist “were you that wine drunk you forgot where you placed it?” Nick smiles, causing goosebumps to scale your arms “you placed it in the closet ma” you gasp, then punch him slightly, walking towards the closet you open it seeing it sit right on top of his folded clothes.

“You’re beautiful” Nick mummers, you turn back around to see him laying on his back, showing off the ink layered on his body, you try not to smile but he always has a way with words to make you weak in the knees. “You’re handsome” you reply

“Dare I say we make a great couple” Nick teases, you roll your eyes pulling him up to his feet “yeah we would” you beam brighter, Nick meant it and so did you. But both of y’all joke that way, and neither of you knew if one was being serious or was joking.

Coming into the living room the boys were sitting on the floor sitting around the coffee table “finally mom and dad are here!” Edwin jokes

“They were probably making our niece or nephew back there” Zion comments, grabbing the nearest thing you could find you throw it at Zion, which ultimately turns your face red. Sitting on the floor nick sits next to you. “What are we playing?” You ask

“We figure you’d pick, since you’re our guest” Brandon comments

“Aw, how sweet, let’s play clue” you excitedly grab the box,

“Oh shit, y’all are in for a treat” nick boosts your excitement

“Damnit, right y/n loves solving mysteries”

Couple of minutes later you guys were yelling who you think is the murder, your suggestions told you zion was the murder, so when it was your turn you squint your eyes at him. “Hm, Zion come with me, i think you’re the murder” after talking to Zion, he ended up showing everyone his cards pointing him as the murder. Everyone looked in shock while nick’s eyes swam in love. Everyday you never failed to surprise him. Sitting back down next to nick you smile rubbing your nose against his,while his arm is on the back of the couch. All of a sudden you see a flash on the corner of your eyes. Turning around Edwin hands you the film smiling.

“Do we look good?” Nick jokes

“When dont y’all look good” Edwin replies

“Fashion couple” Brandon adds, you turn your head in nick arm attempting to hide your face.

After a couple of hours you guys played more board games, you let Edwin dye your hair purple, painted in the backyard and played in the pool. Today was a great day. And nick was slowly getting more and more agitated with how he couldn’t just tell you how he felt. Watching movies with you and the boys in the backyard, you guys made a tiny little campfire as y’all at s’mores and drank hot cocoa. Your hair still a little damped , he ran his fingers through it. You turn towards him only inches away from his lips. Your breath caught in a turmoil.

“I can’t do this anymore” nick whispers above your lips

“Do what?” You ask, instead nick just cups your face pressing his lips upon yours, placing your hand on his wrist. Everything else began to fade away, and everything Zion said was right. It couldn’t be more awkward. Because he felt the same. Seeing a flash go off in the background nick pulls away, you cover your face in his arms, Nick pulls you in closer caressing your ear lobe with his thumb.

“OTP!!” Edwin yells, you laugh purely out of nervousness, while nick soaks it all in, never being ashamed of how much he loves you. Nick kisses the top of your head “mm, I love you” nick tells you.

Cuddling in bed you guys look at all the Polaroid pictures they took of you two and everything else. Grabbing a marker from the nightstand you write down the dates on them and stick them on the cork board you and nick started since the quarantine. looking back at it for a better view. You feel nick place his chin on your shoulder softly kissing your neck.

Caressing his forearm that’s wrapped around your waist “Hmm, this is going to look great on my wall when I get home” you joke nick pouts just thinking about it, now that you were his girlfriend and you were here for a while, he couldn’t phantom you being away from him. “Aww baby, dont be sad my love, I promise I’ll leave something behind that smells like me”

Nick rolls his eyes in sarcasm while chuckling at your comment, you lay your head on his chest running your fingers over the ink on his skin “by the way, I hope you remember I do graduate in two months, so I’ll be with you for a while”

Nick smiles letting out a huge sigh of relief, one had grabbing your jaw he kisses you all over your face finally reaching your lips “god I fucking love you”

Giggling into the kiss you smile “hm I love you more”

[hiccanna-tidbits]

Happy Holidays, RotBTD Fandom!!!

Hello everyone! This is my Secret Santa gift for @siodymph’s RotBTD Gift Exchange!! Or a preview from it anyway--the full fic is actually much longer and is still a work in progress ^^; 

I got @disney0bsessoid5150! I admittedly stalked your page a bit and it seems like you ship Jackunzel and enjoy angst, so I was just like ohhhhhhh yes, I can work with that!!! Truthfully I used it as a bit of an excuse to finally start on an angsty Jackunzel fic I’ve wanted to write for a loooooong time now. I think it’s approaching like...4 years that I’ve had the concept now?? Anyways, I guess I’m finally getting around to it! And I owe ya one for giving me an excuse to finally get up off my butt and get started on it XD

So I came across and really fell in love with the idea of icicle!Jack a few years ago, where basically Jack gets covered in icicles after his power goes out-of-hand in some way and like...double-freeze him, or Pitch does some shenanigans to use the icicles to make the poor boy even MORE isolated. Largely inspired by NightmareHound’s comic strips about Icicle Jack on deviantart as well! And of course my Jackunzel Trash brain instantly was like “Angsty Jackunzel fic??? Angsty Jackunzel fic??? Do I smell ANGSTY JACKUNZEL FIC???” as soon as I saw Icicle!Jack, so here is said angsty Jackunzel fic. The full first chapter will be posted on my fanfiction.net account Infrared-Ultraviolet soon!

Now without further ado--please enjoy this preview from my new story, Melting Icicles!

(Preview starts under Keep Reading marker)

The winter seems to last an eternity.

February is beginning, and some of the ice is starting to melt. Jack Frost treks through the forest again, heading for the creek.

Spring isn’t coming anytime soon, not on the Nightmare King’s watch. And if this means Jack Frost has to refreeze the entire forest and dump another 2 feet of snow on it, so be it.

He’s getting awfully tired of doing Pitch’s bidding, and although he admits it to no one but himself, he feels he could use some sun after all these months of dark. But if he loses the Nightmare King, he knows he will be alone again.

Someone who fills his mind with vicious whispers is better than no one at all.

The ice across the top of the creek is cracked and splintered in places, revealing water starting to rush with spring fervor. Certainly well on its way to thawing completely, if the late winter sunshine keeps up.

He spots a plump female rabbit a little ways down the bank, ears twitching and nose to the ground. She sniffs cautiously around the dead reeds and gingerly puts a paw down on the ice, pressing down as if to test it.

Seemingly satisfied, she takes another step forward, hopping slightly with her back legs so that her front half is now entirely on the ice. Jack feels himself tense up.

She wants to cross, he realizes.

The rabbit takes a few more paces forward, tiny, furred nose twitching as she goes. She takes one more step, and there’s a small snap beneath her.

“No, no, go back!” Jack hisses, feeling anxiety creep up in him like a brewing blizzard. “It’s not safe to cross yet!”

Frustration prickles at him as he watches the rabbit, willing her to back up to the banks. Couldn’t she wait until after he re-iced the creek to try and get wherever she needed to go?

The rabbit skirts the small fissure and continues on her way, albeit more timidly. Another louder crack sounds and she freezes again, nose twitching furiously.

Jack creeps carefully along the treeline to get a better look at where she is. The ice is nearly as clear as a window, and he can see the waves of the chilled stream rushing by below it.

It may as well be paper-thin.

The rabbit takes another step forward, and a crack spreads out in front of her, splitting and bifurcating like the branches of an eerie tree. The crevices grow and grow, scattering off to the side and spreading into a wide semi-circle almost completely surrounding her.

The entire ice cover is about to cave in.

No! Jack lunges forward, jabbing his staff at the thawing stream and sending a fresh wave of ice surging down it. The rabbit’s head turns and her eyes widen at the fast-encroaching wisps of blue-white. She leaps backward, spooked.

In one slow, horrifying moment, the ice gives way beneath her, and she plunges into the stream. Jack can’t quite put his finger on why, but the image chills him to the very bone.

It’s almost as if there’s a haunting sense of…familiarity.

Snapping out of his shock, he jumps into action. He slams his staff down against the icy creek, and it shatters like glass, fragments of ice spilling into the rushing water below. Crouching down, he plunges his hand into the water and freezes it into a thick dam of ice.

The rabbit lets out a cry as she collides with it seconds later, the wind knocked out of her temporarily. Jack scoops her up and pulls her out of the water, starting to massage her soaked, cold fur.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs. “You’re safe now.”

He summons a burst of wind from his staff and lets it sweep across the rabbit, dragging the cold water away. The rabbit shudders as it passes, paws twitching uncomfortably.

“I know it’s cold,” he says meekly, an apology heavy in the words. “But you’re going to be alright. I promise you.”

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” he can almost hear the Boogeyman saying.

Well, you’re wrong. I’m going to keep this one.

He starts to run his hand back and forth through the rabbit’s fur, trying to generate some semblance of warmth. The creature trembles, letting out a low whimper.

The shivers start small, nothing more than tiny tremors. But with each stroke, they grow stronger and stronger, until the creature is shaking like an autumn leaf.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m trying.”

The rabbit jerks suddenly, starting to twitch and squirm toward the edge of his hands. He reaches out his thumbs to try and grab her, but she’s too quick. In one fluid movement, she twists out of his hands, toppling to the ground.

There’s a shock of red as she hits the ground, and Jack sees crimson lines rapidly beginning to form in her gray-brown coat. Places where his icicles grazed her in the fall, he realizes.

Not again…

“No, please…” His voice is shaking, becoming desperate. Frantic. “I want to help. Please let me help.”

He has to be able to do more than hurt. He has to.

Pitch has to be wrong about him.

The rabbit starts to drag herself away, leaving a trail of cherry-red in the snow. Tears brimming in his eyes, Jack reaches out and gently scoops her up again, careful not to touch the gashes.

Maybe I can at least wash them off before she goes…

The rabbit goes limp in his grip, seemingly with little fight left in her. For one horrifying moment, he wonders if she suffered the same fate as the squirrel, until he feels the shallow rise and fall of her breaths against his hands. His entire body slackens with relief.

“Allow me.”

An unfamiliar voice sounds behind him, and he turns.

The snow-melting girl from the clearing is looking right at him, long blonde hair streaming out behind her like a river of sunlight.

She can see me…

He expects her to shudder or wince at the sight of the coating of icicles, but she doesn’t even appear to give them a second glance. She steps forward, bare feet quickened with a sudden sense of urgency.

She kneels before him and sits on her knees, starting to wrap the ends of her long hair around his hands and the shivering rabbit in tight ropes. He doesn’t resist, too surprised to protest. He feels the rabbit finally relax against him, something about the touch of the girl’s hair seeming to finally calm the animal down.

Then the girl begins to sing.

A golden-orange glow glides down her hair, brighter than the purest amber. When it reaches his hands, a sudden warmth surges through him. A warmth unlike anything he’s ever known.

He leans into it, feeling like he’s stepping into the sunlight for the very first time.

“Flower gleam and glow Let your powers shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine

Heal what has been hurt Change the fates’ design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine What once was mine” 

Her words are haunting, making him feel an emotion he finds he doesn’t quite have a name for.

The glow fades as the girl finishes, and she delicately pulls her hair away. The rabbit perks up, long ears sticking high in the air and nose wriggling curiously. The cuts on her side have completely vanished, any trace of red seeming to have been carried away with the winter breeze.

She hops out of Jack’s hands and bounds cheerfully away, eyes bright and eager again. In moments, the icy stream, the cold winter spirit hands, and the sharp icicles appear to have been completely forgotten.

“You…saved her.” He looks up at the girl in wonder. “From…from me.”

She shakes her head, smiling. “No, we saved her. I saw what you did with the ice dam. She would have drowned if not for you.”

“Only because I spooked her and made her fall in in the first place,” he mutters.

“Because you were trying to make the ice thicker so she could cross,” the girl says gently. “You were only trying to help.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, and look how well that went.”

Her smile widens, and Jack could swear he picks up just the slightest hint of a smirk in it. “She’s alive, isn’t she? I’d call that a net success.”

“Only thanks to you,” he mumbles.

He looks over her, and he finds his curiosity gets the better of him. She may be strange, but he can’t help but be intrigued. “Who are you, anyways?”

Her face falls suddenly, pink-purple dress seeming to sag like wilting flowers. “You mean you don’t know?”

He gazes at her, puzzled. “Should I?”

She stops and thinks on this for several moments before finally shaking her head. “No…no, I guess you wouldn’t.”

“How can you see me?”

She looks taken aback for a period before smiling sadly. For just a moment, she looks like she might be on the verge of tears.

She appears contemplative, like she’s choosing her words carefully. Finally she says, with the air of holding quite a bit back, “I’m a spirit too.”

“A spirit? A…Guardian?” He suddenly backs away, growing wary of her.

My replacement…

“Well, no…not exactly.” She looks away, frowning. “I help them sometimes, when they need it. But I’m not…one of them. I’m Rapunzel,” she adds, looking back at him and smiling warmly.

“Jack Frost,” he mumbles, not sure how to response to this entire situation. Never, not once in his 300 years of existence, has someone just…come up and cordially introduced themselves to him.

It’s amusing, really. Something that must seem so mundane to all the people he sees walking about the streets of the towns and cities he wanders through seems completely alien to him.

“I know. I’ve been watching you.”

He gives her a strange look, and she slaps her hand over her mouth, eyes widening.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…! That must sound so creepy! I wasn’t—gosh, I didn’t mean to be following you around! I’m so sorry!”

She buries her face in her hands, as if slowly realizing the size of the hole she’s dug herself into.

Jack can’t help but chuckle at the utter unexpectedness of the entire scenario. “I don’t think it’s creepy. Just…strange. I mean, why would you want to trail me?”

She peeks at him from between her fingers, expression shy. “I see those frost patterns you leave on the trees. They’re beautiful. I…did accidentally melt a few, though.”

She looks away again, embarrassed. He remembers her hand recoiling after touching his frost the other day, her gasp of horror. He thought she’d been appalled by the freezing cold…but perhaps she had only been dismayed she had started to melt it.

The thought that someone appreciated his work was more comforting than she knew.

He looks over her and something suddenly clicks in his mind—the ice-melting hands and feet, the flower-colored dress, the life-giving healing hair, the light green eyes. “You’re a spring spirit,” he realizes.

She smiles at him, shrugging. “I am, but…I think all of the seasons are beautiful. I love yours, too. I came out a bit earlier than I was supposed to so I could have a look at everything you’ve done. It’s gorgeous.”

If Jack Frost still had color in his skin, he’s sure he’d be blushing. How embarrassing.

He tries his best to deflect the compliment, smirking at her instead. “Oh, what gave away that I was a winter spirit?”

She smirks right back at him. “Oh, nothing, really. Just a shot in the dark.”

It’s a moment before it dawns on him that she hasn’t started to retreat after she finished her healing. She hasn’t apprehensively scooted away from the protruding ice spines, hasn’t eyed him with the same careful fear as someone creeping past a chained beast that could rip free at any time and lunge. If anything, she’s made herself more comfortable next to him—hugging her knees to her chest, resting her chin on her hands and regarding him thoughtfully.

She’s just naïve, he thinks bitterly. She’ll find out soon enough that all I can do is hurt people. She can’t fight my nature any more than I can.

Nonetheless, the girl seems kind, if lacking somewhat in worldly wisdom. He hates the thought of anything bad happening to her.

“I’m surprised you let yourself get so close,” he says, the implied warning clear in his voice. “You know…considering all this.”

He gestures at his torso, sweeping a hand in front of his lower chest to show off an especially honed row of icicles. Rapunzel seems unfazed.

“I’m not worried,” she says nonchalantly. “I think I can manage to not get close enough to jab myself.”

“But what if I got closer to you?” he retorts. “What if I attacked you? You know, getting cut with these, it wouldn’t be…” He trails off, unsure what he’s trying to say. “Just…you shouldn’t trust so easily, Rapunzel. I could hurt you.”

She shrugs, looking almost annoyingly unperturbed. Smiling, she holds up a lock of blonde hair.

“I have this, remember? I think I can handle myself fine. Besides…” Her eyes soften. “You don’t seem like the type who wants to hurt people. You just seem…lonely. And sad.”

He bristles suddenly, alarmed. This girl he barely knows, who he met mere minutes ago…how had she pegged him so entirely?

“How can you know that?” he asks, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.

She smiles again, and this time, there’s something bittersweet about it. “Well…if you wanted to hurt people, you wouldn’t try and make the winter beautiful just because you can. You’d make it angry, destructive. But you wouldn’t find ways to make it into art.”

He sighs, looking away. “Those gashes on the rabbit…you know those were because of me, right? I…I didn’t mean to hurt her, but stuff like that just…happens, if you’re around me. When I try to help.”

“But you were trying to help,” she says, without missing a beat. “And that’s what matters to me.”

“So stupid,” Pitch whispers in his mind. “So tragically, trustingly stupid. People who try to see the good in monsters are only going to get devoured in the end. When she succumbs to some tragic demise, there will be nothing to blame but her own bleeding-hearted naivety.”

She makes no move to distance herself from him. No move to flee from the obvious danger. If anything…he swears he can see her inching closer.

He looks back at her, eyes growing as cold as the ice he trails throughout the forest.

“You’re making a mistake,” he says harshly. “It’s not safe around me. You want to end up like…”

Like the squirrel?

He stops short, finding himself reluctant to spill the details of the incident…no matter how relevant.

Perhaps, he finds himself thinking, she doesn’t need to know. Not yet.

Idiot. Of course she needs to know. How else will she see what abominations you’re capable of?

“…marred like that rabbit?” he says instead.

Of course you pick the story with the happy ending. Of course you pick the comparison that could persuade her to stay. What on earth makes you think she’d want to, anyhow?

“I’ll take my chances,” she says softly.

Jack hates himself for the unadulterated exhilaration that courses through him.

What the hell is wrong with you?! You shouldn’t want her to stay! She’ll get impaled in the end somehow, and it’ll be all your fault…

“You look like you need a friend, Jack Frost,” she adds, eyeing him sympathetically. “No one deserves to be alone.”

He thinks of a man cloaked in black, and he looks away guiltily.

“I do have a friend,” he argues. “And he says…he says no one else would want to be my friend. He hasn’t been proven wrong yet.”

She scowls deeply—an expression that looks almost amusingly out-of-place on such an innocent, serene face, he thinks.

“That doesn’t sound like a very good friend, if he tells you things like that,” she retorts.

He shrugs, trying his best to look indifferent. “It’s all I know. It’s better than being alone.”

“Well, then maybe it’s time for you to know something better.” She brightens up again, the frown flitting away as quickly as it had come. “You think you could use another friend?”

She gazes expectantly at him with those big green eyes of hers, and he feels a prick of annoyance at how convincing she’s being. It’s an offer that’s hard to refuse, he has to admit.

In a heartbeat, the Nightmare King is back, whispering doubts into his mind. Telling him it’ll only end in disappointment and abandonment and being alone once again.

For once, Jack ignores it.

“It’s at your own risk,” he says simply.

“I can live with that.” Rapunzel shrugs. “Will I see you again?”

His lips, long-since blue and frosted over, form the tiniest hint of a smile. “I think you will.”

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Too Smart for Your Own Good: Part 2

Pairings: Machine Gun Kelly x Reader, (Past and Future) Henry Cavill x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, one night stand, unprotected sex

Word Count: 2,129

A/N: Doesn’t have a completed end yet, but just giving you more content to try to get myself out of a writing funk.

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Your father, Negan, chuckled as you got off the golf cart in front of the trailer you’d be celebrating Christmas in again, like you had for three of the past ten years, at the Los Angeles County State Prison.

“Hi, daddy.” You breathed in relief, grateful to spend any amount of time with the only family member that you could completely trust. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry fucking Christmas to you, too, Princess. Fuck you, give ‘em.” He barked as he pulled the bags of food and your clothes off the back of the cart before you could even think to reach for them. You simply rolled your eyes and grabbed your guitar case before thanking the officer and heading inside the family visit trailer. “So what kinda trouble did you get into this week?”

“Well…” You sighed as you sat down at the small table in the kitchen. “… I went to Cleveland on Saturday and flew back yesterday morning. Pretty sure I got pregnant, too.”

“You fucking what?!” Your dad roared as he slammed a box of Mac and Cheese down on the counter. “Fucking Henry?”

“Henry is not coming back!” You shouted back, defensively. “And does it fucking matter? I made a choice, two choices actually, to sleep with some douche bag and not take Plan B after. It is what it fucking is.”

“So what, you're just gunna throw away your fucking life…” He started as he went back to throwing groceries in the cabinets, angrily. 

“No, I made the choice to not be fucking alone any more!” You interrupted as you looked over at him. You couldn't hide the hurt in your eyes when he turned around to stare at you, shocked that you were actually talking about your emotions.

“Sweetheart…” He breathed as he abandoned his task and came over to sit down in front of you. “You are not fucking alone…”

“I am alone, daddy.” You nearly whispered as you put your feet up on your chair and wrapped your arms around your legs. “Mom’s dead, and you're in here for who knows how much longer. And Henry…” You scoffed and shook your head. “Henry isn't coming back. He loves being some hit shot doc the Army more than he ever loved me. So other than my research, which I've all but abandoned anyways out of sheer boredom, I have nothing. I have no one, daddy. Just the occasional visit from Ashleigh and some of the harlots from the club. Maybe a once a month lunch date with some of the people from UCLA. But that's it. So I made a choice not to get the morning after pill after I stared at the box for over an hour and weighed out the pros and cons. And I would much rather raise a sperm donor baby than be alone in that house anymore.”

“OK.” Negan whispered with a nod as he rested his hand on your bent knee. “OK. I don't fucking like it, but I will get on that train all the fucking same.” Tears welled in your eyes as you rested your cheek on the back of his hand, and you closed your eyes to hide them. “So I'm gunna be a grandpa?”

“Maybe.” You choked the slightest bit as you opened your eyes to look at him again. “It just happened but I know I'm ovulating…”

“Eww fucking gross.” He fake gagged to get you to smile as he pulled his hand free and got up to finish putting groceries away. “I don't wanna hear that shit.”

“That's what you get for raising a daughter with no filter.” You pointed out as you propped your chin between your still bent knees.

“Fucking gross.” He repeated with a laugh. “So the fuck was in Cleveland? This fuckin guy?”

“Ashleigh’s client. He’s a rock rapper that needed someone that could learn music fast and played the guitar well. So Ash landed on me. But dude is a total self absorbed prick. B minus in… well in the broom closet.”

“I'll have Simon kill him.” He said almost 100% seriously.

“You are not going to kill this idiot for being bad at sex.”

“No, I'm gunna fucking kill him for laying a Goddamn hand on my daughter.” He responded with a smile as he balled up the last empty grocery bag and put it in the recycling bin.

“You're an idiot.” You laughed as you grabbed your guitar and got up to sit outside for a while.

“Hey, be nice to your old man.” He huffed as he grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a pack of matches off the table and followed you out front to enjoy the California sun. “And go easy on me today.”

“Yea fucking right.” You laughed as you sat down on one of the plastic lawn chairs and pulled out your guitar, which took you almost a year of bribery to be able to get it into the jail it now lived in in the first place. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Pain in my Goddamn ass.” He grumbled around his cigarette as he moved his chair out off the shade and pulled off his blue prison issue shirt for as long as he could get away with it. “Alright… rock music from the 70’s.” You nodded at the category and tuned your guitar before picking an easy AC/DC song to start with. Which is pretty much how you always spent your days when you visited your father in prison.

——

Your office hadn’t looked so chaotic since you were working on a regular basis, but as of that morning, every available surface was covered in every single medical textbook, (with a focus on pregnancy and pediatrics) and motherhood book you could get your hands on. The dry erase board that usually had your equations to see if your Milky Way black hole theory was a possibility, had been wiped clean and replaced with columns upon columns of notes, to separate the ridiculous from the actual facts you would need to go through a pregnancy and raise a child.

You were blazing through the ‘Essential Neonatal Textbook’, when your house phone rang, startling you the slightest bit and forcing you to pull your attention away from a long list of the benefits of cord blood. You sighed and snatched up your headset as you set the book down to work through all of the information and pick out the more important bits and pieces to make the best informed decision.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)? I have a Colson Baker here to see you.” Your fingers froze with the cap of the marker in one hand and the marker itself in the other.

“You can let him in.” You sighed as you took a step forward and started a new list under the newborn column in the middle of the board. You heard the line click in your ear and you wrote quickly, trying to get some of the information down so you knew where to pick up when you came back inside. You got a short start and reluctantly forced yourself away from your research  to let your guest in. You started to work out your ideas vocally as you opened up the two gates and watched his purple Lamborghini pull into your driveway. You waited just long enough for him to make it half way to you, before you turned and headed inside to add more to your cord blood list with him following behind you.

“Umm… what the fuck is this?” Kels asked as he looked at the board over your shoulder in shock.

“Did you vaccinate Casie?” You asked as you continued to write.

“You’re fucking pregnant?!” He shouted over you as you capped your marker and set it back down on the easel.

“I am pregnant.” You said evenly as you walked over to find the ‘The Umbilical Cord Blood Controversies in Medical Law’ book to cross reference the former textbook. “Did you vaccinate Casie?”

“Were you gunna fucking tell me?” He shouted as you flipped through the pages, easily reading 20,000 words a minutes despite the distraction of your visitor.

“I was neither planning on telling you, nor keeping it from you.” You said simply. “I want nothing from you, Mr. Baker. I don’t need money, and I don’t need you to step up to be a father. You were a one night stand that I chose to not take Plan B after. My choice, my child, my body, my life.” He looked at you completely lost for words as you set your finished book down and headed back to the white board to add and change notes. “I would like your family medical history, though. I could easily do a diagnostics test and an MSS while I’m pregnant but…”

“Oh, I’m gunna be fucking sick.” He groaned behind you as you finished your idea and turned to move on to the next section. You grabbed the trash can and handed it to him on the way past as you tried to keep your thoughts as straight as possible, relatively unsuccessfully.

“I don’t wanna be alone.” You sighed as you looked over at him for a moment. “And after the way you treated me that night, the way you just used me and threw me away like I didn’t mean a Goddamn thing…” You exhaled through your nose and shook your head as you looked away from him and out the back door to the ocean. 

“I don’t care that you’re not happy here, Mr. Baker. I don’t care if you want to be in this child’s life or not. I don’t care if you see me or this child as a mistake, or what you see us as at all. I just don’t care. What I care about is having a calm, healthy pregnancy, and becoming a mother. And I will not tolerate having someone come into our lives to walk in and out of it because he never wanted us in the first place. Nor will I tolerate someone treating me like I’m worthless trash in front of my child.” Kels didn’t say a single word as you shook your head and turned back around to go back to work. “Stay as long as you want. I have work to do.” 

As Colson sat and thought, you went over to find a book about banking cord blood so you could round out that column. The next column was pros and cons of breastfeeding verses formula, which was a lot more extensive than you originally expected due to the varying opinions on length and benefits, but after reading through seven different books, and writing and erasing conflicting notes, he finally spoke up.

“Breastfeed for a year.” He almost whispered as he watched you work. “That’s what we did with Casie. And yea, we vaccinated her.” You nodded your head as you erased the idea you were writing and stood up to make a note in the vaccines column. “I don’t turn my back on my kids.”

“OK.”

“I’m sorry.” He continued as you capped your marker “It’s no excuse but I was high as fuck and running on adrenaline. I used you and that was shitty as fuck.”

“Yes it was.” You agreed with a nod as you leaned against the front of your desk and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Well I’m fucking sorry.” He said a little harshly. “And I’m sorry for knocking you up.”

“Pregnancy happens, Colson.” You breathed with a shrug of your shoulders. “I’m obviously a little more prepared since I actually made the decision…”

“Yea, that’s a fucking understatement.”

“OK, you can fucking leave and I can file a restraining order.” You snapped. “What’s done is done. I’m pregnant, you’re the father, your kid and my kid have a new sibling. You’re not going to have to pay child support, I’m taking primary custody with open visitations. And no, I am not going to date you. Not now, not ever. You left a sour taste in my mouth and I want nothing to do with you or your crazy lifestyle.”

“You’re just making this super fucking easy, aren’t you?” He asked as he pushed himself out of his chair. “I’m outta here. I’ll get your number from Ash and I’ll be in touch.” You rolled your eyes and gestured toward the door behind him.

“You can see yourself out.”

“Such a fucking bitch.” He muttered as he stormed out the doors and through the atrium to leave. You let out a huff and shook your head as you went back to your research.

“Idiot fucking sperm donor.”

Part 3

[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: should we rest for a little longer? 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: minagi tsuzuru/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 2.7k words

𝐚𝐧: i just want to take care of this tired boy

He was asleep again.

“And you’re being a creep again,” Your friend nudges you, and you nudge him back with a vengeance. You peel your eyes away from the sleeping brunet to frown at the boy beside you.

“I’m not being a creep. I’m just… concerned, I guess.” As soon as the words leave your lips you find yourself cringing a bit. It sounded off, almost like you pitied him. If anything, the right way to phrase it probably would have been-

“I kid, I kid,” your friend raises both of his hands, almost defensive, “it’s because you’re a fan of his, right?”

Your lips purse at the suggestion, neither offended nor angry but not very pleased either.

“I suppose,” you say, eyeing the professor that entered the room.

Fan. That sounded wrong too, despite being the truth. You have watched all of Mankai Company’s plays, ever since your little sister dragged you to one since the boy she liked was playing one of the leads.

“Ahh, so cute!” Your sister was shaking you for what might have been the nth time that night, but you weren’t so focused on Romeo as you were Mercutio.

When you saw a familiar face standing on stage beside the pink-haired boy, you were rather surprised. You couldn’t pretend you knew him, but you did see him here and there on campus. You might have even shared a class together and you just never noticed.

You didn’t peg him for an actor.

Curiouser and curiouser.

You checked the website where you booked your tickets again.

Minagi Tsuzuru, Scriptwriter

Interesting.

Somehow, even though he wasn’t in the next play, you found yourself watching more and more. You’d swear up and down that as a theatre fan, you wanted to support deserving local productions; while not exactly false, it was hard to deny your admiration for Tsuzuru’s scriptwriting.

An almost inaudible yawn breaks your reverie and your eyes settle on the familiar green of his jacket. Did the professor just not care? Well, perhaps it was for the better. He probably needed a nap, more than a nap if you were honest.

“Lend me a highlighter real quick,” your friend whispers.

When you pass him the marker, its bright turquoise hue brings you back to your original thoughts.

Were you really just worried because you were a fan of his?

The next time you see Tsuzuru is at a cafe that had ‘the best hot chocolate ever!’, or so your little sister proclaimed.

“Eh? You’re Mercutio, right?”

Specifically, at a cafe where Tsuzuru was currently working at.

Do you let your sister do the talking? You don’t wanna disturb him at work or anything. Besides, it’s not as if you’ve ever talked to him, so other than telling him your order there really wasn’t much else to say.

“… really likes your scripts!”

“Ah, really? Please keep supporting us, I’ll make sure to keep improving!”

The corners of Tsuzuru’s eyes were crinkling as the corners of his mouth slid upwards.

Eh? Why was this boy suddenly giving you an angelic smile? What happened when you spaced out? Wait, didn’t your little brat of a sister mention something about scripts?

“Ah, yes, I’ll keep watching your plays!” You smiled quickly, lightly kicking the younger girl’s feet from beneath the table. Did you say anything to her about your admiration for Tsuzuru or something, or did she suddenly get observant?

She was lucky you weren’t so petty or you would have outed her crush on Sakuya to his troupe mate then and there.

“Oh, by the way,” you begin to lower your volume to be sure, “is the hot chocolate really that good?”

A small chuckle barely escaped his lips before he shrugged, positioning his clipboard to take down your orders. “You have to try it to find out.”

“Then two hot chocolates, and a strawberry creme crepe for me.”

“Chocolate covered banana pancakes, please!”

As he took down your orders, you caught a glimpse of the dark circles under his eyes. He seemed to be fine when he was talking to the two of you, but a part-time job along with university and theatre probably took a lot out of his energy.

“Eh, isn’t this-“

“Don’t say anything.”

So when you ended up with a chocolate-drizzled banana creme crepe and your sister got strawberry topped chocolate pancakes, you let it slide. The hot chocolate was actually pretty good.

You were only supposed to borrow a reference book for one of your classes, take down some notes, and then scramble home.

So what were you doing?

You wanted to sit somewhere further down the library where it was quieter when you stumbled upon Minagi Tsuzuru, fast asleep with several papers scattered haphazardly on the desk.

The two of you weren’t close or anything, but you wanted to encourage him somehow. Sometimes sleepless nights were really necessary, you’d be a hypocrite to vouch against them, but you wanted to tell him to persevere somehow.

You set your bag down on an empty chair, bringing out a green sticky note pad and a ballpoint pen.

...

When Tsuzuru wakes up it’s from Juza lightly, well as lightly as Juza could, nudging him awake. He waits for his eyes to adjust to his surroundings, wondering how long he’s been asleep. The first thing he spots is Juza’s purple tupperware, wildly contrasting the off-whites and blacks and browns his things usually were.

The second thing he notices is a green sticky note stuck on one of his notebooks.

Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise!

Les Miserables, a line from the finale song if he remembered right.

No name or hint from who could have given it.

He found himself humming the song on the way home.

“This presentation will be a paired work activity… and as usual, I’ll be pairing you up.” Several people groaned audibly, while two girls whispered excitedly behind you.

“I wonder if she’ll couple me up with someone?”

“Ahh, I hope I get coupled up with…”

Seriously, coupled up? Since when were you all Love Island contestants?

You knew this professor was highly acclaimed to be some kind of “yosei of love” or matchmaker or whatever, but weren’t they expecting too much out of her?

“This is a class, not a mixer,” your friend began to say, “is probably what you’re thinking right now. Am I wrong?” He looked awfully smug and you couldn’t resist rolling your eyes.

“More along the lines of ‘this isn’t a reality tv show’, but that works too.”

“Prude.”

“Should you really be insulting me? Prof is probably gonna pair us up again and I’d be stuck with you for a whole week.”

“What’s wrong with that? We became friends precisely because she thought we’d look good together. Of course, it didn’t work out, unless?” He started wiggling his eyebrows and you smacked his arm.

“Dumbass. Well, she’s probably hoping we’re some kind of slow-burn pair and keep us partners,” you predicted. Somehow his smugness increased tenfold, looking as sly as a fox.

When the professor calls your name you perk up, head-turning to her. Even seated three rows away from her you could see her eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Please pair up with Minagi Tsuzuru.”

Your eyes immediately sought for the familiar figure in front of you, until you felt a soft tap on your shoulder from behind you.

He greeted you by your surname, a small smile on settled on his face. “Looks like we’re partners. I didn’t know we had a class together.”

“Ah, yeah, it’s nice seeing you again.” You reply, discretely reaching over to your ears as if to hide them.

“Right!” The two of you looked over to your friend as he clapped his hands together, “Looks like I just got called! Take care of my babe, Tsuzuru!” You were so, so close to slamming your face on the wooden desk, instead deciding to shoo him away with the motion of your hand.

Turning back to Tsuzuru, you give him an awkward laugh. “Don’t mind him, Minagi-san. He acts dumb, but at least he’s consistent.”

He stands up, shuffling his things and for a moment you forget that he’s actually pretty tall. Transferring to the seat beside you, he shakes his head. “If you think that’s bad, wait until you see what I have to deal with.”

“7 younger brothers, and 2 honorary younger brothers that I had and have to deal with on the daily.” Despite his visible tiredness, his tone suggested that he didn’t mind having to look over them so much.

“I only have my little sister, but she’s as much of a pain as she is cute.” Your eyes lock with turquoise, and both of you simultaneously release a sound between a sigh and a laugh.

“Older sibling night hours?” You offer.

He lets out an appreciative hum, “More like older sibling noon hours, really.”

It’s been two hours since you’ve gotten up from your chair. It’s not that you don’t like Tsuzuru’s company, far from it actually, but your back was starting to hurt and you were getting real fidgety. You needed a walk.

“Minagi-san, do you mind if I get something to drink?”

“Not at all, we’ve been at this for a while.” At his signal, you stood up from your chair and fished through your bag for your wallet.

Pausing, you turn back to look at him for a couple of seconds. He was typing furiously fast, but his eyes were droopy and lidded. If you asked him if he wanted anything he’d probably say no, but that didn’t mean you weren’t gonna try giving him something. He mentioned not having a least favourite food, so coffee milk would probably do, right?

Tsuzuru’s eyes tear away from his laptop, catching you staring at him. Before he could ask if something was wrong, your body suddenly tensed before dashing off.

He sighed, letting his eyes rest for a bit while you were still out. He barely got any sleep last night, and the light emitted by the screen was starting to make his retinas burn. Despite his drowsiness, he manages to let out a small huff to mask his growing smile.

Your ears were red again.

...

Discretely hiding the milk cartons as you re-entered the library, you jokingly wondered if Mankai Company’s playwright would be asleep on a library table again.

“No way,” you murmured in disbelief, setting the cartons on the desk the two of you occupied. There was neither the click-clack of his keyboard nor swift ASMR scribbling on his notebook. Hadn’t you only been gone for 5 minutes?

You debated waking him up for a moment, maybe even teasing him for immediately falling asleep as soon as you left. Maybe you’d press the cold drink next to his cheek to shock him.

You do none of those, and let him sleep for as long as possible. He said he didn’t have any work for the evening so no harm, no foul right?

Unzipping your pencil case, you spot your trademark green sticky notes. You had thought about giving him another note again but never found the opportunity to until today. Of course, if you wrote one now he’d definitely know it was you.

It was sorta embarrassing, but you didn’t mind him knowing.

Ah, but you didn’t really want him to see it while you were in front of him?

“Let me just,” muttering to yourself, you hid the sticky note in one his jacket’s pockets. He shifted slightly, causing your heart to stop for a moment.

Don’t wake up, don’t wake up…

When his eyes don’t flutter open, you let out an audible sigh. Well, whether the brunet was asleep or not you still had work to do.

30 minutes pass when the actor finally woke up. He’s still a little dazed and thoughts still a little muddled when he sees you out like a light in front of him.

Maybe, as he’s walking back home, the humiliation and shame of falling asleep while waiting for you would hit him;

but right now he’s focused on the golden rays of the setting sun hitting your gentle, sleeping features and he’s absolutely entranced. Tiny sighs, soft breathing, a picture of peacefulness.

Seriously, Tsuzuru? Just because you like his scripts. Just because you had your similarities. Just because you had a serene sleeping face. Just because your ears turned red around him and was he allowed to hope?

Did you even see him for more than just Tsuzuru the Mankai Company Playwright? Tsuzuru the actor? Tsuzuru who’s in a class with you?

Last month, he thought of you as a sincere fan. Last week, he thought of you as his cute partner.

And what about now? His mind couldn’t supply him an answer right away, but that was okay. There was time for that tomorrow, and the days and weeks after.

His hand extends forward to pet your head when your eyes blink open and lock with his own.

“Minagi-san?”

He thaws himself out of his frozen stupor and quickly moves to take his hand back. Unexpectedly, you reach your own out to keep it in place.

What were you doing?

“Were you going to…” You trailed off, and by the way your eyes averted from his gaze he could tell you were too embarrassed to finish the question.

“Yeah,” he replied quietly, “Sorry.”

For a few beats, only silence was exchanged between the two of you; then you spoke up again.

“I don’t mind,” some more beats, “you can, you know.”

There are questions left unsaid, but instead, he lowers his palm down slowly, hovering with a bit of hesitance left.

“If it’s you,” you start, “it’s okay.”

“Okay.”

His fingers glide over the soft strands and begin caressing the top of your head.

The concept of time itself didn’t seem to exist as both of you soaked in each other’s quietude. When was the last time he felt all his worries didn’t exist? That he wasn’t constantly worrying about his family, or finances, or university, or scripts.

“Minagi-san,” you began, tone still soft as though not to ruin the atmosphere they created. “It’s important to get some rest too, okay? I worry… I don’t want your health to suffer, so please take care of yourself.”

A rush of endearment overcomes him and if you paid an ounce of attention to his fingertips brushing against your cheeks as he played with your hair, you don’t mention it. He whispers your first name and watches as his index paints a peach across your skin. Your lips part and the palpitations in his heart increase at a pace that can’t be normal.

“I can’t pretend to know, offer to carry your burdens,” you pause, placing your hands atop of his free one, “but if for a while I could relieve you of your stresses, I’d like to stay by your side.”

Oh.

He moved his hand from beneath yours and interlocked your digits together. “Then take care of yourself too.”

When you looked like you were about to protest in confusion he squeezed the palm of your hand lightly, drawing circles on them with his thumb.

“Alright, I promise,” you whispered.

A dozen or so seconds of nothing but tranquility passes when Tsuzuru breaks the silence. “Should we rest for a little longer?”

His eyes have a teasing glint to them, a look rare on the brunet, and something else you can’t describe other than it makes your heart skip a beat.

“We should be heading home now,” you said, almost regretfully, “but our project still isn’t done, so…”

An oath of next time.

It really wasn’t any of Masumi���s business, but wasn’t Tsuzuru in a particularly good mood tonight? The younger boy had no plans to be nosy, but it was getting weird. What if he was planning something with the director? He had to make sure he wouldn’t get in the way.

Quietly, he peered over Tsuzuru’s shoulder to look at the green paper the college student has been staring at for the past five minutes.

I’ve heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason, bringing something we must learn, and we are led to those who help us most to grow.

Oh, wasn’t this from one of the musicals the director liked? The dark-haired boy didn’t know how to interpret it, but if it meant he wouldn’t have to share the director as much that was fine by him.

want to order again?

[kumeko]

A/N: I’m having fun writing this. Part 3 of the  @marveltrumpshate fic I wrote for @wombatking

Summary: There was something luxurious about waking up at 7:30am, to an empty room, with an empty bathroom, and the kitchen all to herself. Kitty hit the jackpot.

…

…

…

…

There was something luxurious about waking up at 7:30am. Absolutely luxurious. Kitty wanted nothing more than to sprawl over her bed, languidly stretching before she finally rolled off. Unfortunately, her right leg was a dead weight to all of this, so she had to settle for lazily yawning and spreading her arms above her. The birds had been awake for hours, her dormmates equally so, and she had the most glorious sleep. She hadn’t even noticed when Rogue had left for training, her roommate for once not waking her up with her extensive morning prep.

 For a girl who claimed that she didn’t care what others thought of her, she spent an awfully long time in front of the mirror. Kitty chuckled at the thought. Rogue was full of strange contradictions and the more she learned, the more she liked. It was strange to think that at one point they’d fought like cats and dogs.

 Well, if Kitty were honest, they still fought sometimes now, but they always made up after.

It was harder than she expected, to get off the bed. Her leg felt weird, her movements even more so—her legs didn’t feel in sync, her left far too light and quick, her right too slow and heavy. Walking was a strange hop and dance. Dressing even more so. She half-wished she had Velcro pants, like the ones Spike used for his stupid “my pants ripped off!” joke. The only problem was that they were ugly. On the bright side, she was more than used to putting a little pain in for her fashion.

 As she passed by a window, she caught sight of Jean and Amara running through the obstacle course, sweaty and tired. “Glad that’s not me,” she murmured, grinning as she stepped into the for-once-empty bathroom.

 She’d been wrong. The best part of her broken leg wasn’t sleeping in, it was the fact that there was no rush. No one knocked on the door, asking her to get out. Kitty didn’t have to bounce impatiently on her feet, waiting for the door to open so she could rush in. Nope, the bathroom was all hers, for however long she wanted.

 So was the kitchen, so was the tv—if she’d realized how good it was, she’d have broken her leg ages ago. Maybe in six weeks she could break the other one. Chewing on a piece of toast, she idly flipped through the channels. News, weather, Say Yes to the Dress, Psycho—

 “Ready to go?” Scott said, suddenly appearing behind her.

 Kitty almost dropped her toast, surprised.  Instinctively, she turned off the TV, flushing a bright red. “I, that—” She wasn’t even sure why she was feeling flustered. This was fine! Technically allowed! No one expected otherwise!

 Yet it was one thing to relax when no one was around, and another to do it in front of her slightly sweaty housemate. Scott’s hair might be carefully combed, but his skin still had a light sheen to it from all the exercise. Noticing her stare, he cocked his head. “What’s wrong?”

 He’d always been a slightly dense brick. Fighting back her embarrassment, Kitty scarfed down her toast and stood up. “N-nothing. Let’s go.”

 “Alright then. I pulled my car up front, so just slip in.” Scott picked up her backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “You know, instead of a reality show, you should try watching the news.”

 If Kitty could have, she would have stomped to the car.

 -x-

 “Hey girl!” Kitty got no other warning before a pair of slightly tanned arms wrapped around her neck, hugging her tight. Tabitha pressed her cheek against Kitty’s, her messy hair tickling her neck. As usual, her perfume was as loud as she was. “Heard you got hurt.”

 “Tabitha!” Kitty laughed, leaning into her friend. She’d been getting lonely anyways, sitting in the playground as she was. Kurt had gone to get lunch and unfortunately the track team wasn’t practicing, so she couldn’t even stare at them. “Did Amara tell you?”

 “Didn’t have to, I have eyes.” Tabitha let go and rested her hands on her hips. “I hear Blue is now two for two for training accidents?”

 “It was my fault this time, not his.” Kitty rubbed her neck sheepishly. To be honest, the other time hadn’t been entirely his fault either—Tabitha had a little to do with it. Gesturing at her leg, she explained, “I broke my leg, so now I’ve got that ugly thing.”

 “I know training sucks, but I didn’t think you’d go that far to get out.” Tabitha whistled as she saw the cast. “Damn, that’s clunky.”

 “I know, right! It’s like I have snowpants or something.” Kitty rapped on the top of her cast. “It’s so thick! I don’t want to know what’ll smell like after all of this heat.”

 “You’re lucky it isn’t summer, or you’d be roasting in it.” Tabitha scrunched her nose, her lips curling with disgust. “Broke my arm once, on a job, and not only was I utterly useless after, I reeked like Toad.”

 “Seriously?” Kitty didn’t have to ask to know what sort of ‘job’ she was referring to. Wincing, she looked at her cast again. Tabitha had to be exaggerating, right? “It’s not that bad, right? I can’t get it off for six weeks. I don’t want to deal with smell on top of everything.”

 “Just spray some perfume on it.” Tabitha winked. She mimed spraying it on. “Works like a charm.”

 “Eww.” Kitty glared at the offending cast, her heart sinking. Just how stinky could the thing get? She groaned. “So either I smell like Toad or a flowershop.”

 “Hey, the choice is yours.” Tabitha grinned, shrugging. “I bet Logan won’t like either smell.”

 “I don’t think Rogue or Kurt will like it either.”  Resigning herself to her fate, she hoped they’d still hang around her after six weeks were up.

 “Cheer up, it’s not that bad. You get a lot of sympathy goodies.” Tabitha crouched next to the cast, a marker in hand. She started doodling something, just out of Kitty’s sight. “People open doors for you, give you seats, sometimes even food—”

 “You shouldn’t eat things strangers give you,” Kitty warned, worried about that last one. Sometimes, she was amazed Tabitha made it to high school. More often, though, she was impressed the school hadn’t burned to the ground multiple times, considering her short temper. “And what’re you drawing?”

 “You’ll see!” Tabitha replied cheekily, her brow furrowed as she finished her masterpiece.

 Kitty rolled her eyes. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

 “I’m pretty good at that, ask anyone.” Tabitha smirked up at her. “How’re the geeks taking this? Bet Logan ain’t happy.”

 “They’re like, the only bad part.” Kitty grimaced, remembering Scott’s lectures. And she had to get a ride from him for the next six weeks—her mornings were going to be so ruined. “I swear, Scott and Jean won’t shut up about it, and Logan’s just counting down the days till he can make me suffer again.”

 Tabitha stood up now, laughing. “Sounds like ‘em.” Hand on her hip, she gave her a wry look. “Honestly, you should just ditch that whole scene and join me. It might not be the best place to stay, but it’s the funnest.”

 There was absolutely no way Kitty was staying in that rundown house the brotherhood claimed was ‘livable’. She’d been there a handful of times, and each time she wasn’t sure how the place hadn’t been torn down. At the very least, it had to be filled with lice or something. “I’m not that desperate.”

 “Yet.” Tabitha pocketed her marker and waved before waltzing away. “Lemme know if you change your mind.”

 “Not happening!” Kitty laughed, watching as a garbage bin exploded.

 -x-

 Kitty lay on her bed, examining her cast by her tablelamp light. It was, perhaps, the first time she’d gotten to use that thing without having to cram for a test or something. Today was actually full of firsts—she finished her homework without having to rush, she had dinner on time, and hey, she saw an episode of her favourite drama on time instead of catching a rerun.

 Even now, she was lying in her bed, at 11pm, and not bone-tired for once. Across the room, Rogue snored lightly as she slept, too tired from training to complain about the light. The house was utterly silent at that this time and if it weren’t for the lights-out rules, she’d have snuck around to see just how different the house was at night.

 For now, she bent over her cast, running her fingers along the different signatures she’d collected. After Tabitha had signed it, the rest of her friends popped in, one after another, all ready to make a mark. The once white cast was now a collage of signatures and messages. Rogue had written her name in purple ink, with nothing else added to it, and Kitty couldn’t figure out if it was because she didn’t have anything she wanted to write, or if it was because she was too embarrassed to put anything.

 Feel better soon, Honey, Kurt had written in blue ink, and Kitty smiled as she pressed her fingers on the pink heart he’d drawn beside his name. It was utterly cheesy, but she liked that about Kurt.

 There was a picture of a grumpy Logan next to Spike’s name, and Kitty covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. He was a terrible artist, and that only made it funnier. Logan was either a furious hedgehog or he was some new evolution of a bear. Definitely not human, at the very least.

 Finally finished with all the easy to read signatures, Kitty leaned forward and strained her neck to see what was on the back of her cast. More importantly, to see what Tabitha had spent so long drawing. Biting her tongue and squinting, she could just make out the picture.

 It was a dick.

 Of course it was. She flopped back on her bed, and silently swore revenge.

[kaeyas-beloved]

The Lost & The Pained {Chapter 14 ~ Pictures}

The Lost & The Pained Chapter Masterlist

Summary of last time: (Y/N) along with Midoriya, Iida and Todoroki were admitted into hospital after facing off against the Hero Killer Stain. Although she won't outright admit any details, Mido and Todo can tell that (Y/N) is hiding something.

Amono and Dabi had a moment on the roof of the hospital before getting called back to base. Dabi reminisced about old times before actually leaving.

Now: (Y/N) has just made it back home and is about to get an earful from her explosive mother and brother.

Also! Just a reminder and warning that this book does have elements of blood, torture and drugging. In this chapter, a somewhat graphic description is written. I'll have bold exclamation marks for when it starts and when it ends in case some wish to skip it!

~

"GOD DAMNIT AGAIN!?" Katsuki and my mother screamed, their expressions and tones making it seem like they were clones of one another. In all honesty, they basically are.

"Calm down!" I say, cool as a cucumber. I've been through this routine before and hopefully if I'm calm it'll mellow out the two blonds. "I told you, it was just a little backstreet throw down - nothing to worry about and nothing I couldn't handle..."

"YOU WERE ADMITTED TO THE HOSPITAL!!!" Mom shouted. I swear I could see her hair turning grey faster by the second.

Things were getting heated and when I took a step back both of the angry humans advanced a step forward.

"Hey now..." you're a rock star - I MEAN, "it's all part of the job description!" Their eyes practically bulged out of their sockets with that comment.

"WHA- WHY YOU!!"

3rd Person POV

While (Y/N) stood before her fuming relatives, Masaru trying to calm the situation down, The League of Villains were plotting some more bullshit to enact.

"We already have plans for the summer, so why are we discussing more for the girl?" Shigaraki rasped, slowly scratching his neck, red eyes glaring at the group of males seated together at the bar.

Two nights ago Airaki called up the entire League, though at the time some members were unavailable, so the meeting was set back a few days.

Airaki spared a glance around his small group of close comrades before eyeing Shigaraki once more, a glare present within his cold forest green eyes. He never liked the way Shigaraki worked, finding that sometimes there were too many gaps in his plans or simply just the way he acted pissed him off. Yet he still went along with him, seeing as at the beginning of their agreement it seemed the League was the only way to get back at (Y/N) and what she did to them.

"We are all well aware of future plans," Airaki sneered, unsheathing a dagger from a strap around his thigh and started to idly play with it, voice evening out for his next words "but until then I figured adding a little bit of... excitement might rage the growing fire even more..."

To Shigaraki it seemed like too much work, why go through more for a plan that's already chock full of twists and turns? Yet he still heard them out, something in the way the greenette spoke catching his interest.

Amono stood when the signal to go on was given, making his way to the cabinet he always kept locked. With a turn of the key the doors opened and he reached in, retrieving a valuable item.

"We decided that releasing these to those she's closest to, plus the media, would defiantly have an effect" Airaki continued, his smirk growing at the thought of what the contents within the container could do.

The face of the villain group stopped his scratching for a moment, taking the outstretched metal box from the kinetic quirked male.

With just one peek, Shigaraki was already on board with this bonus plan.

~

First Person POV

I walked down the sidewalk to UA, another day of teaching about to start. It was unusually quiet for a Friday morning, but who was I to complain?

Rounding the corner I nearly ran into a camera man who was only one of many men and women bombarding the school gates. Briefly I wondered if something had happened or if they were just there for All Might again. Nevertheless I still had to say something to the guy I nearly rammed into.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to knock into you!" I apologize, offering a sheepish smile. The guy turned around a smile of his own.

"It's quite alright- (H/N)!"

Shit- they were here for me weren't they!?

"(H/N)? Where!?" They were!!! But why!?

Instantly the domino effect kicked in and everyone in the crowd surrounding the front entrance erupted into shouts. And me? I was swarmed by those closest to me. I couldn't make out any coherent voice since all the sounds mingling into one loud noise but it consisted of a boat load of questions.

As I fought off the crowd of news reporters something rough wrapped itself around my waist, freaking me out. I took a quick look at it and found that it was a familiar cloth scarf and before I could do anything I was yanked up off the ground. Following the line of cloth once I landed on the lip of the school wall, I was proven right that it was Aizawa who got me out of that mess.

"Thanks..." I said with a short nod, surveying the mass of people that pooled below us. Camera men pointed their cameras up and took shots while reporters held up mics, still spitting out questions so fast that I got a headache.

"Come on, let's head inside..." the ravenette sighed, pulling me down to the ground by the back of my shirt. I ended up falling ungracefully on my ass, a comical oof escaping me. From behind me a barely audible snicker sounded from my long time friend and my eyes narrowing into a playful glare despite him not being able to see it.

"Don't think I didn't hear that!" The lazy man seemed to kick his ass into gear because his pace quickened ever so slightly, almost like he thinks he can get away from me.

Well he can't apparently because I caught up to him in three seconds flat...

As we walked in silence down the halls a question stared to gnaw at my mind and it wouldn't go away. So I did the most logical thing and asked it.

"Shota, why are the students staring at me?" Dark coloured eyes spared me a glance before they returned to in front of him, his ever present neutral expression deepening into a slight frown.

"You didn't see the news?" He answered a question with a question. My brows furrowed.

"No, I was in a hurry this morning and didn't have time to sit down and watch. What does that have to do with the staring though?" Aizawa sighed again - obviously I'm missing something here! Before he could answer me we entered the 1-A classroom where all 20 students awaited us, with something to tell us too apparently.

As I parted from Aizawa's side to my usual window spot Yaoyorozu stands and calls out to me, stopping me in my tracks. Her tone was what caught me off guard, she sounded... distressed? Anxious too perhaps. Gazing over my shoulder my eyes meet her's for a moment until they trail down to the object in her hand.

A photograph. Two photos to be more specific. Although the picture part of it wasn't facing me I could still see that something is written on the back in thick, red marker.

"Bakugou-san... this morning many of us received these in the mail... they're rather graphic and... and they're..." she trails off, eyes down casting like she's unable to meet my (e/c) eyes anymore. Now that it's been said, as I scanned the rest of the room many did in fact have their own pair of pictures laying face down on the desks. Not everyone had them, but a good three quarters did.

Wordlessly I waved my hand, motioning for the teens to bring me them. One by one they did until I had a relatively thick stack, all of them having a single word inscribed on it's back. As I collected them I was able to get a better look at what was written, some said LIAR, other's said TRAITOR or PATHETIC.

When I had all of the pictures in my hand I met the eyes of Aizawa. I'm not sure what I was looking for when I gazed at him, maybe an answer to what these mean? All I got was a nod, telling me all I needed to know, just look. Hesitantly beginning to turn each and every picture over I went through the pile slowly, the content just growing gruesomer by the second.

!!!!!!

It started with pictures of me chained to the wall, some have me baring my teeth as I tug on the metal restraints in an attempt to get at the one taking the picture. Some just show me with a lifeless expression as I sat against the wall.

After they became images of me beaten and bruised, the chains moving from being nailed into the wall to somewhere above and out of shot. The clothes I wore were torn in various places and died red with my blood. A couple of them have it where I was barely standing and a few had me on my knees, head bowed with my arms still raised high above my head. In these there was a pool of crimson at my feet that only seemed to grow in size. One had it where the wall behind was painted in my blood.

Dark purple and blue bruises coloured my exposed neck and arms along with thin and thick cuts, blood ran in a tiny streams down my nose, out the corner of my mouth and from somewhere within my hair line.

!!!!!!

It was a never ending collage of my demise.

With each photo I went through, placing them face down on the desk I stood closest to, I finally reached the last one. By now my hands have already started shaking, my legs felt like they would give out at any second and I felt hot tears of years of hurt and frustration barely being kept at bay.

I didn't flip this one over, it was different than all the others that came before. Instead of just a single word in red it was a sentence written in black.

She can't be trusted

One shaky inhale later and I turned it over. What I was met with was no image filled with agony and pain, but a picture of evil intent in the eyes of the muse. It was me, I was the muse of this picture, like all of rest, only this one has me dressed in clean clothes, no injures marring my face or neck. My eyes, though, were not their usual (e/c) but a glowing red and the smile I wore had no joy, instead it held so much malicious intent. It was the smile - no - the smirk, the look a villain would have and it made me sick.

"I think I'd be best... if all of you forgot you ever saw these..." my voice was barely above a whisper when I finally spoke, yet everyone apparently could hear me loud and clear.

"Forget!? (Y/N)-chan we can't forget something like that!" Midoriya cried, standing from his seat. In front of him Katsuki glared at me, a snarl twitching again his lips.

"For once I have to side with Deku. You expect me to not think about this after seeing pictures of you chained and laying on the ground bleeding!?"

Slowly my eyes trailed up from the plastic within my hands, scanning the entire room. Many nodded in agreement to what was said.

"I know it'll be hard but I need you guys to. After all, this doesn't concern-"

A ringing noise pierced the tense atmosphere and for a moment I thought it to be the bell until coming to the realization that it was actually my phone. Dropping the current argument I pull my phone out, an unsaved number displayed at the top. It didn't have to be saved into my phone for me to know who it was though, it was a number I was familiar with and knew by heart.

Not wanting to waste a second I tap the green answer button, lifting the device up to my ear.

"Hello?"

"I see you've received our little gift~" a low but sweet voice rang out, the response given setting me on edge. If he knew to call at this very moment then that means he can see and potentially hear me.

"I wouldn't show any signs of distress if I were you doll... wouldn't want to scare the kids now would you?" a different but still undeniably masculine voice said.

It was Airaki and Touy- Dabi, both of them sounding like they were having a blast toying with me. In the distant background the click of what I believed to be computer keys could be heard and I briefly hoped it was Amono. Briefly.

Something shifted within me. Before, I would let my emotions take control and cloud my judgement, but now that I've had a run in with all four of my old friends a small voice that's grown so loud in my mind is telling me to get it together. That they are not who I use to know and that if I wanted to do anything about this situation, to maybe even fix it somehow, that I have to use my head now more than my heart.

And not let lingering feelings get in the way.

"What do ya need?" Playing it like it was someone I'm acquainted with, which really isn't that far from the truth, I replied casually.

"That's a good doll. We need you to meet us at the location we send you in exactly one week at three. Don't be late." As soon as the blue fire quirked villain ended the call a text notification popped up under a different, yet still familiar, number - a location and time attached with it.

Later, I tell myself, I'll look at it later.

Silence hung in the air, breaths held as those around me waited for something to happen, maybe for me to say something. Across the room Aizawa stared at me, onyx eyes holding a single question, who was on the other end of that phone call?

"Like I said, it's best of all of you don't worry about these photos..." I muttered, "I've got to go, don't wait up on me..."

"(Y/N)!" The monotone voice of Aizawa shouted but I merely waved at him over my shoulder, pushing past. I have things to do and people to see.

I realize now that maybe I can't do this alone, I can't find those that I've lost twelve years ago without a little help.

Just whose help do I need exactly?

~~~~~ Well, it's back! While writing this chapter I was reminded of how much I love this plot that and I'm really happy to be writing this story again :)

Sorry if this chapter isn't the best, I still gotta get back into the swing of writing for BnHA again.

Thank you to those who are still reading this despite the couple month gap, you guys are awesome (even if there are only a few of you) :)

See ya in the next chapter!

[boxed-toast]

Pyrite and Hairbands

A wlw short story, by me!

~~~~

"Mommmm Ali hit me," Heather shrieks. "Alicia how many times do I have to tell you, don't hit your little sister," Heather glares at me.  Blood drips from my arm. Heather stabbed me with a pen. I didn't even hit her back this time, but   it's pointless to argue. I just try to put pressure on my arm where she stabbed me. When we get home I run to the bathroom and grab a bandage Then, I just hide in my room hoping she'll just leave me alone. I feel like my body never fully heals from the damage she does. I've always got scabs and bruises.

~~~~ School is incredibly boring. we learned everything we're doing two years ago and then again last year, but at least it's easy. At lunch Claire and Alex sit with me. Sometimes it feels like they're the only people in the world who pay attention to me. "Can I have that?" Claire points to one of the hair ties on my wrist. I pull it off and hand it to her. She stuffs into the huge black bag she always has with her. She pulls out a shiny little gold cube and hands it to me. "What's this?" "It's Pyrite. Miners used to find it and think they found gold. Sometimes it's called fool's gold." "Well it looks like gold to me," I put the Pyrite in my pocket. Alex hasn't said a word. She's just eating her sandwich in silence. "Dude, Alex, something up?" "It's all stupid." "What's stupid?" "Ughh, it's Mr. Pithers." "What did he do this time?" "Those two guys who sit next to me in his class decided to throw things at him while he wasn't looking. I think they were trying to get him in the back of the head, but he turned around and got hit in the nose with one of those little oranges." "What's wrong with that?" Claire asks. "It was my little orange. I didn't even see that they'd taken it, but of course he didn't believe me." "Ugh, that sucks. Did he say what he was going to do?" "He said after my other infractions that he'd have to think about it." "Shit, are you going to be okay?" "I dunno, the guy already hates my guts." Alex says staring at the ground. "It'll probably just be extra homework or something, that's what he did last year when I replaced all his dry erase markers with ones that didn't work," Claire never seems phased by anything. ~~~~ We walk to Claire's house after school. Her parents work late, so we have the place to ourselves. I like being here. Claire's cats are cute. Alex sits of the couch next to me. I like how she's pressed up against me. We're both doing homework. Claire sits on the floor across from us, a cat sits in her lap. Claire's reading something. After a few hours my mom calls and says she wants me home. The walk home is long and the rest of the night is filled with endless dull chores. ~~~~ "We're all going shopping for new clothes for your sister." Dad says. "I would really like to _not_ do that" "Alicia you are coming with us. Get in the car." Nothing in the world sounds less appealing than shopping with dad and Heather, but did isn't going to take no for an answer. I grab my DS and get in the car. Minutes pass, it takes forever to drive to the mall. I don't know how a town with nothing to do manages to have this much traffic. Where is everyone even going? "Dad, can I have a turn playing games now?" Oh god, here we go. "What? No, this is my DS. Did you bring yours?" "Daaaadddd" Heather kicks me in the leg and I yelp. "Dad she just kicked me." I say in a momentary lapse of judgement. "Alicia I swear to _God_ stop making problems and give your little sister a turn." Dad pounds the steering wheel with each word. "Ugh, fine whatever" She tries to scratch me as I hand her the DS. I just stare out the window for the rest of the drive. The store is fairly empty. The florescent lights make squiggly patterns on the tile floor. Heather tugs at my shirt. I turn to look at her. She lobs my DS at the ground with as much force as she can muster. It lets out an echoey crack as it hits the floor. "Oh my gosh, Heather are you okay?" Dad rushes in. Why does he fall for this every time? Is he really this stupid? "I'm sorry, I dropped it." Heather smiles up at him. I rush to my poor DS. There's a crack across the touch screen. I hold down the power button....and....nothing. It's dead. That DS was my birthday present last year. In the background dad is still reassuring Heather that everything is fine. The rest of the trip is just a blur of heather screaming and trying on clothes. She doesn't attack me again though. So, I guess that's something. ~~~~ At lunch the next day, Alex and Claire are in our usual spot. Alex is writing something on a little notepad. "Velociraptor, easy. I eat my prey while it's still alive" Claire has this look in her eyes. "Yess, I win again!" Alex responds, "Oh, oh oh Ali your next." "What am I next for?" I ask "It's a game. I have a list of questions, and I write down how I think you'll answer. And then I ask you the questions for real and we compare the results. It's shows like how much I know about you." "Learn anything interesting about Claire?" "Well I don't know, but I got 12 of 15 so I must know her pretty well." Alex says. "I need to work on being more mysterious." Claire makes a face at Alex, but I can tell she's having fun. "Okay, Ali. Let's do you. Gimme, a sec to fill these out." Alex starts scribbling on her little notepad.   Claire takes a grape from my lunch and replaces it with a slice of orange. "Okay, ready!" Alex looks up from her notepad. "We'll start with the easy ones. What's your favorite ice cream flavor?" "Chocolate" "Favorite color?" "Purple. Was that what you had?" "Yeah, but these are just the easy ones." Alex says "Okay, well ask me a hard one then." "Okay, okay, According to the infinite wisdom of Ali, what is the greatest song ever written?" Alex has that spark in her eyes. I just want to stare at her, but she's too much and I look away. "Oh that is a hard one, umm When September Ends" "Aw, miss" Alex scribbles something on her paper. "She's a sucker for the sad ones." Claire says between bites of sandwich. "What was your guess, Alex?" I ask "Well I wasn't totally sure, but I had Mr Brightside" "It's a close second." Two boys walk up behind Alex. "Heyy Alex, It's goin down tomorrow, you better be..." "Fuck off, Kyle." Alex glares at one of the boys. "Hey, I'm just trying to warn you is all." He responds. "Fuck _off_, Kyle." Alex repeats. Kyle shakes his head and the two boys walk off. The bell rings. I scarf down the rest of my lunch, and we head to our afternoon classes. ~~~~ At dinner, mom keeps going on and on about how talented Heather is. She's doing gymnastics or something. After dinner I have to clean the house. Heather can't help because she's "too tired" from practice. Mom finally runs out of things to have me do, and I manage to hide in my room.   ~~~~ It looks like Alex is late again today. We have social studies together, 1st period. I keep waiting for her to walk through the door, but she never does. Between classes, I decide to wait by her locker hoping to catch her before the next one. Her lock is gone. I open the locker and peer in. The empty locker shocks me a little, did they move her locker? Did   something happen with Mr. Pithers? I can't stop thinking about Alex for the rest of the morning. Claire and I sit opposite each other in the cafeteria. "Have you seen Alex?" I ask. "I don't know for certain, but from what I heard a bunch of boys were found with drugs, they told everyone they got them from Alex, and so Alex got sent to juvi." Part of me heard Claire, and that part of me knows what's happening, but I just can't accept it. I can't believe it. Claire takes a bite out of her sandwich and it takes an eternity. I keep feeling Alex next to me and then seeing that she's not there. Some part of my brain is playing her laugh on repeat, and it cuts just a little bit each time. "We have to help her. We have to do something." I hear myself say. "We can do something." Claire says, her voice doesn't show it, but I can tell she's really   upset. "Do you mean like, telling people it wasn't her?" "No, I mean making a trade," Claire's voice is steady, but I can tell she's forcing it, "Someone else for Alex." "You mean like, tell the cops it was someone else? Why would they believe us?" "I'm not talking about convincing the cops, or anyone else for that matter. I'm talking about a simple trade." I nod in response, but I have no idea what she means. "Who do you know that you wouldn't miss?" The bell rings. ~~~~ After 4th period, I rush over to Claire's locker. I have to push passed masses of 8th graders. I feel like everyone is staring at me. "Busted" Someone half sings at me. I don't see who it is. Claire is rummaging through something in her locker, but I can't quite make out what it is. "Claire, you said we could make a trade. What did you mean?" I ask. She looks up, "Bring someone to me after school today. We can exchange their life for Alex. So let me ask you again, is there anyone you wouldn't miss?" I'd ask more questions, but I don't have time. I have to push my way back through the 8th graders, and I probably only have about half a minute to do it. "Yes," I say to Claire, "there is" ~~~~ The moment the bell rings, I rush out towards the Elementary school. Heather is outside waiting for mom. I tell her she has to walk home with me today. She rolls her eyes, but she follows. Around the corner   Claire is waiting for us. "Do you still want to do this, Ali?" Claire asks. I nod, I still don't really know what I'm agreeing to but it doesn't seem like a good idea to ask while Heather is right next to me. "Then follow me," Claire says, she turns We walk out past the football field, into a forest. I don't think I've ever actually been back here before. "This isn't the way home!" Heather shouts. "It's a shortcut," Claire responds. "Ugh why are you here." The pine trees and short, just a few feet taller than we are. They're young and dense. The path between them is windy and narrow. The ground is bright green pine needles caked in red clay. I keep expecting Heather to run off, or scream at us, but she doesn't. She just follows. Pine needles brush up against my arms. I feel like the forest is squeezing us in more and more as we go. Claire marches forward. Eventually we come to a clearing. The trees form a perfect circle around us. I can't even make out the path we came from. Heather is uncharacteristically quiet. "Hold her," Claire grabbing Heather and turning her back to me. I comply. Claire takes a knife from the pocket of her hoodie. Before I even have time to react, she flicks the blade out,and gashes Heather across the chin. Heather starts shrieking. A splatter of blood hits the ground and the earth beneath us shifts. I'm thrown off balance, but my muscles contract and I dig my fingernails into Heather's shoulders. Claire is shouting something but I can't understand the words. The trees are moving now. Swaying back and forth. My ears are ringing from Heather’s wailing. She kicks my shins, but I don't feel it. The ground beneath heather opens up to reveal a mass of writhing roots. Claire utters a single ear splitting syllable. The roots rush up and wrap themselves around Heather and wrench her from my grasp. Her skin turns white and she goes silent as the breath is expelled from her lungs. The roots crush and tear at Heather's body like a giant mouth. Bits of flesh and bone snap and rip apart until there's nothing left. The ground shakes and in a wave the earth rushes in to cover the roots. I'm knocked off my feat and I feel my back hit the ground with a thud. Everything goes quiet. The trees are still. Claire stands over me. "It's time to go," She says. The path back to the school feels much shorter than before. The spacing between the trees is comfortable. By the time we get back to the school the sun has already started to set. I half walk, half jog home. ~~~~ It's dark by the time I get home. I figure mom must have realized that Heather is missing by now. I don't think anyone saw me pick her up, but the thought still gnaws at me. I swallow hard and open the front door. To my surprise, dad is just sitting watching the TV. "Hey honey." He says. "Hey, dad" I respond nervously. "There's some food on the counter for you." He continues. What the fuck is going on. I am actually really hungry. I eat the food at the table. Cautiously, I walk down the hall to my room. I push the door open. All my stuff is gone, it's gone. Desks line the room, mom sits at one of them typing on her computer. She spins around to face me. "You were out late." she says, totally calmly. "Claire and I were doing homework together." I respond reflexively. Suddenly the pieces fall together. We didn't just kill heather. We erased her. "Did you want something?" Mom asks. "I just came to say hi. " I say. "Hi, Alicia." she says, "Hey can you put these in the dishwasher for me?" Mom hands me a plate.   I walk down the hall to what used to be Heather's room. I take a deep breath and open the door. All my stuff is here. My DS sits on the bed. I press the power button and the screen comes to life. I distract myself with Pokemon until it's 1am and I pass out. ~~~~ Alex is standing beside her locker when I get to school. I run up to her and hug her. I feel a weight lift off my shoulders as her arms wrap around me. She's really back, she's real. I kiss Alex on the cheek. I know I should feel bad about what we did. I should be afraid of Claire. I should probably be afraid of myself. I just killed, no I just erased Heather, my own flesh and blood. But Alex kisses me back, and I'm happy.

[hermannsthumb]

If your'e still taking prompts the one from the halloween list: "we’re secret friends with benefits and you accidentally wore my shirt to to the party so you’re pretending you came as me and it turns out your impression of me is on point and you know me better than you know myself are you sure you’re not in love with me??" seems like such a good newmann one. love your writing :)

from list of halloween prompts here

this one is literally so fucking good for them. god. GOD. theres like the tiniest bit alluded to not sfw in the beginning (after the making out) but after that its fair game

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

“Ngh,” Newt says. “Keep doing that.”

“Hmm?” Hermann says. He drags his mouth up from Newt’s collarbone, eyes dark, pupils wide, mouth curled into a lazy smile. Almost coquettish.

Newt blinks down at him blearily. And with a little poorly-concealed irritation. “I said keep doing that,” he says. “Not stop doing that.” He gives Hermann’s head a nudge. A tiny gentle one. He’s eager, he can’t help it; Hermann always gets him all eager and hot and bothered. He doesn’t think he’ll mind. “C’mon, baby, c’mon--”

It’s a mistake. Hermann minds: his demeanor changes in an instant, like Newt flipped a light switch that was clearly labeled with a do not touch! in masking tape and Sharpie. (Shit, Newt thinks.) “Don’t,” Hermann snaps, and swats at Newt. “You know I can’t stand it when you pull--”

“I’m not pulling your hair!” Newt says. He drops his hand away and holds it high above his own head just to make his point. “I swear. I was just trying--”

Hermann rolls off of him and onto his back, huffing, arms folding across his bare chest. Lacking any better ideas, Newt follows him. “Aw, Hermann,” he says, “don’t be like that.” He presses kisses to Hermann’s jaw, his chin, the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to--”

“Unhand me at once,” Hermann mumbles. Newt kisses his cheeks, his mouth. Hermann kisses back. His hand slides up to cup the back of Newt’s neck. “Wretched little man,” he continues to mumble. “Ah.”

“There we go, Hermann,” Newt says, grinning against his lips, and adds, sarcastically (because it always makes Hermann laugh), with a little nip of teeth, “There’s my Hermy-wermy.”

Hermann makes a face. “You know I can’t stand that either.”

“Really?” Newt murmurs. He tiptoes his hand down Hermann’s chest, down to the waistband of his ugly slacks, the open zipper; his grin spreads wider. “Because I think,” he starts to tug Hermann’s slacks down, “your hermy-wermy would say otherw--”

There’s a knock at the door.

Mood ruined, and all of Newt’s hard work getting Hermann game to go again ruined, too, Newt slides his hand back to safe territory and lets out a colorful stream of profanity. Hermann wrinkles his nose beneath him. Whatever, he curses just as much as Newt. “Fuck,” Newt finishes. “Who the hell is that?”

Hermann pushes him off and sits up with a grunt. “We’ve probably got a damned laboratory meeting we forgot about,” he says, “because someone couldn’t keep it in his Hot Topic skinny jeans long enough to wait until we clocked out for the night.”

“They’re not from Hot Topic,” Newt says. He pauses. “How do you even know what Hot Topic is, anyway?”

“I’ve seen the label on them,” Hermann says. There’s another knock. Hermann sighs, and makes to slip out of bed. “If you won’t get it, Newton, I will.”

Newt drags him back down quickly. “What are you doing?” he hisses. “Get back here! You are not answering my door looking like--” He plucks at the elastic of Hermann’s tighty-whiteys peeking out, pokes at the hickey purpling on his neck. “--this. Or at all, actually, how suspicious would that look? This is my bedroom.”

“We’re colleagues,” Hermann says with a sniff. “It’s perfectly natural for us to--er--consort. Outside of work. For all they know we’re talking about work.”

“In our underwear?” Newt says, and points out, “It’s not really natural for colleagues to screw each other as much as we do.”

Hermann flushes. “No one would be able to tell--”

To be completely honest, Newt really, really doesn’t care whether or not people know he and Hermann are--uh--rivals with benefits, but Hermann is always so weird about privacy, and Newt supposes it’s a little bit of a cliche to sleep with a co-worker, so he takes one for the team. “Jesus, Hermann, I’ll get the door,” he says. He swings his legs to the floor and does his jeans back up, then grabs the first shirt he can find and pulls that on too. “Just sit there and look pretty.”

Newt learns two things in the course of squeezing his head out the door and talking to a mildly intoxicated LOCCENT worker: one, that the guy was sent by Tendo to remind them about the super awesome spectacular Halloween party going on down the hallway right his second, and two, that Newt and Hermann were invited to this Halloween party, apparently agreed enthusiastically to coming to it a week ago, and if Newt doesn’t find Hermann and show up with him in ten minutes, Tendo is totally never speaking to them or inviting them to another awesome party ever again. Newt learns a third thing once he and Hermann toss on the rest of their clothing, smooth out their hair a little, and hurry down the hallway to where the party is being held within those allotted ten minutes: he’s accidentally put on Hermann’s shirt. A fourth: Hermann’s accidentally put on his.

Before Hermann can waltz in through the door and raise questions (because his buttons are straining obviously under his low-cut button-up sweatervest, kaiju blood stains a spot just under the lapel, and Newt’s swimming in Hermann’s sleeves and has got a fucking pocket protector in), Newt drags him off to the side and shoves him against a deserted wall to explain their predicament.

“We have to change,” Hermann declares immediately. “We can’t be seen--”

“No, look,” Newt says. He’s quickly formulating a plan. They won’t be able to swap pants, obviously, but-- “Take off your blazer and sweater.”

Hermann frowns. He tucks his blazer tighter around himself. “No,” he says. 

“Take them off, jackass!” Newt orders, ripping his own tie off from around his head and starting to kick off his boots. “And your shoes. Look, it’s a Halloween party, right? People dress up for Halloween parties. Let’s just say we’re going as each other, everyone will get a huge kick out of it, no one finds out we’re, you know.” He adjusts his left index finger and thumb into a small circle, and pokes his right index finger through it a few times with bonus sound effects. “Rendezvousing. Platonically. Your public image is saved.” 

“No,” Hermann repeats, though he flushes. “I am not wearing your disgusting boots.”

Patience running very, very thin, Newt corners him closer against the wall. Not very successfully: Hermann does, after all, have several inches on him. Newt has to glare up at him. “So help me God, Hermann,” he says through gritted teeth, “if you don’t give me your blazer right now, you can find some other horny bozo to--”

“Fine!” Hermann says quickly. He yanks the skinny tie from Newt’s hands. “If you spill anything on--”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

After a hurried exchange of accessories which leaves Newt looking like an exceptionally short and baggy Hermann, and Hermann like Newt if he wore contacts and enjoyed attacking his hair with scissors, they waltz into the party together. Newt’s actually pretty pleased with how their costumes turned out, all things considered--Hermann even consented to having Newt draw shitty approximations of his tattoos on Hermann’s arms with a marker they found in Hermann’s pocket.

Everyone at the party gets a total kick out of it, too, which is the best part--especially when Newt decides to toss in some quality Hermann Impressions. 

“Newton,” he grumbles, poshly, hands on his hips, "quiet down right this instant.” That gets a few laughs. “You know I can’t stand it when you have fun.”

More laughs; Hermann, nursing a drink, looks only the vaguest bit amused. “Very funny,” he says. “My turn, now.” He shrinks in on himself in a way that makes him look just a bit shorter, and clears his throat: the voice that comes out next is so high-pitched, so scratchy, so fast, so--uncomfortably Newt that Newt nearly drops his own drink in shock. Especially once Hermann tosses in equally uncomfortably Newt hand gestures. “I’m going to do something ill-advised and dangerous to prove I’m right and give Hermann a stroke,” he declares. “Don’t you just love kaiju? They’re so cool.”

“I’ve never said I loved kaiju,” Newt says, but he’s grinning. 

“They’re so cool,” Hermann repeats. “Do you like my tattoos? You know I have a Doctor Who one on my--?”

“Dude!” Newt hisses. He was eighteen, okay? Anyway, that’s not the kind of private, personal information that Hermann should be sharing if he wants to even remotely pretend they don’t get up to hijinks in the lab after hours. 

“Dude!” Hermann echoes, perfectly.

The little crowd of their co-workers laugh. (Louder laughs than any of Newt’s impressions got.) Newt laughs, too, despite his embarrassment. And despite something beyond embarrassment, something he can’t quite put his finger on--it’s making his heart race, his palms sweat. Hermann sure must, well, know him to get him down like that, obvious comical exaggeration aside. (Or maybe it’s just because Newt talks a lot.)

“Ha, ha,” Newt says. “Okay, you win.”

“Thanks, dude,” Hermann squeaks in his Newt-voice. He winks. 

Newt corners him at the snack table crammed into the far back of the room later, while Hermann is--innocently--scooping some bat-shaped pretzels onto a plate with a large plastic spoon. Newt makes his presence known by stealing a handful and swallowing down half of them. “Gotta say, dude,” he teases, “I’m a good look on you.”

“Of course you’d think that, you narcissist,” Hermann says, but he’s smiling. He swipes a few pretzels back. “Get your own. The bowl is right there.”

Newt steals another from Hermann’s plate. “It’s a crying shame you didn’t borrow my jeans, too,” he says. “I bet you could rock ‘em.”

“Mm, I highly doubt that.”

“You absolutely could,” Newt says. He glances around to make sure no one’s looking, and quickly darts his hand out to pinch Hermann’s ass. Hermann drops the spoon back into the pretzel bowl in surprise. “Though I guess there’s not much to fill them out--”

“You’re a wretched little man,” Hermann says, for the second time that day. The guy really needs some new insults.

“Your voice was really fucking good, by the way,” Newt says, casually, as they lurk in a different corner (lit up with a blacklight) a few minutes later. He’s finally gotten his own plate of food, though he keeps stealing from Hermann’s anyway. “Your Newt voice, I mean. And the--” He waves his hands around. “Do you practice it a lot?”

This pulls a snort from Hermann. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“How’s it so good, then?” Newt pushes, and Hermann shifts, clearly uncomfortable.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says. “I suppose I just--pay attention to you.”

Newt cracks a grin, and bumps his elbow against Hermann’s side. “I would kinda hope so.”

“Not like--” Hermann sighs; Newt shuts up fast. (Hermann’s moments of emotional candidness are very, very rare: the most he’s ever done after a fun romp in the sack, beyond leaving immediately, is pat Newt’s hand and say thank you, Newton.) “What I mean to say is that I am...fond of you. Fonder than I am of anyone else. And I watch you, occasionally, because I am fond of you, and notice small things about you--your speech patterns, how you carry yourself...”

That’s, well--it’s certainly candid, and unexpected, and good, of course, to know that Hermann like-likes him, but it’s also a little-- “That’s kinda creepy, Hermann,” Newt says. “You watch me?”

“That’s not--” Hermann stammers, and it turns into a quiet groan. “Oh, I’ve fouled this up. Newton--”

Newt saves him by stretching up on his tiptoes and planting a firm kiss on his mouth. Completely chaste. Devoid of any dirty intentions, like all of their previous kisses have been, like what they’re used to. Just a simple little kiss. It takes Hermann aback: Newt can feel him freeze up before he returns it tentatively.

It’s over in seconds. Newt pulls back and pats Hermann’s cheek. “I know what you mean,” he says. “I feel exactly the same way.” Then his grin returns. “I mean, I don’t watch you like a creep or anything--”

“Shut up,” Hermann says, pink-faced and very pleased.