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lostinthewoods-kristoff · 5 months ago

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Send me on my way || Self-para

dated end of january summary: Kristoff goes to say goodbye to the Trolls, but he doesn't go alone cw: none!

"Where are you going?"

Freya looked up from the box she was taping up, the words FORMAL WEAR printed in neat block capitals on the side. He had figured he might as well give away the few suits he'd bought for Swynlake's various proms and balls and galas and whatever else to From Farm to Table, since he wasn't exactly going to be needing them. Freya had maybe spent a little too long making sure everything was neatly folded, but whoever was behind the register would thank her when they opened the box up.

"Out to the Quarry," Kristoff said, shrugging into his coat.

"Alright," Freya said, standing and dusting off her leggings. "Give me two minutes and I'll put my boots on."

Kristoff stared for a second, brow furrowed. Put her boots on? To go where? Not to the Quarry. The Quarry and his sisters were two separate concepts, things that didn't overlap. He wasn't sure he could handle the guilt of leaving the trolls and the guilt of leaving his sisters all in one go - he might just collapse under the weight of it, or be smothered by it so completely that he disintegrated into atoms.

Freya patted him on the chest, snapping him back to reality. "C'mon, dummy. No arguments."

Sighing, Kristoff whistled for Bunny, clipped her leash on, and headed out the door.

The snow was beginning to clear a little along the paths leading up to Enchantra, and within the forest there were patches of clean, green earth, water-logged from the sunlight that had filtered in through the canopy and melted the snow atop it. Kristoff let Bunny off her leash, keeping half an eye on her as they headed along the main trail.

"How far is it?" Freya asked, when she had finished commenting on the differences in the weather between here and her home, and the similarities in the foliage between here and the forest behind their parents' home.

"It's not too far now." He answered simply. Walking through town and through the Farmlands tended to take the longest time, but only because Kristoff knew a few shortcuts through the forest. He held few low-hanging branches back out of his sister's way as he guided her through them, being careful to leave everything as he found it as they went along. The last thing he wanted was the Great Prince popping out from somewhere.

Bunny picked up a stick, carrying it proudly, tail wagging so quickly left to right to left to right that it was a blur. Freya snorted softly, but her smile faded afer a second. She looked over at Kristoff, and said, "I can't believe you made it all this way on your own."

Kristoff shrugged. He didn't remember much of it now. He had been six. He could barely remember what he had for breakfast yesterday. But, he supposed, he had probably blocked a fair amount of that out. It wasn't like it was the best memory in the world. "People can run pretty far when they're scared." He said simply, pushing ahead so that he didn't have to see the look on Freya's face.

He frowned; a tree trunk had fallen over, blocking his usual path. Not exactly ideal, since it was already a tight squeeze through a ring of bushes. He tested the strength of it with one foot, leaning his weight on it; it creaked, and so he quickly hopped over, feeling the wood give way a little as he went.

Holding a hand out to his sister, he said, "Careful."

Freya nodded, her head bowed, watching her footsteps. With one leg over, the wood gave. Kristoff pulled her quickly forward, ignoring her thanks, calling for Bunny to jump over so they could set off again.

The sun was shining when they broke out of the treeline, and the Quarry was even greener than the last time he had been there, despite the frost. He was sure at some point, well into the future, when there were no more tourists to bother the trails, this place would become entirely grown over. What the trolls would do, he had no idea, but he assumed they would still be there. It was a nice thought, really, that they might carry on well after the rest of them were gone.

"Is this it?" Freya asked, putting her hands on her hips. Bunny, having found a sunspot, flopped down onto a warm rock, tail thumping passively.

"This is it." Kristoff nodded. He could see her assessing, wondering, how did he survive here? Of course, from here it simply looked like an old, disused quarry. She didn't know all the little inlets, the caves, the places Kristoff had found through careful exploration and had managed to make a home out of it.

In a whisper, Freya asked, "Where are they?"

Shielding his eyes from the sun, Kristoff looked around. "Give them a second." He said. He had seen movement further into the quarry, and sure enough, after a moment, the ground began to shake. A little bit at first, loose pebbles dancing at their feet. Steadily, it grew, feeling almost like an earthquake as several small boulders barreled towards them. Freya squeaked, leaping back a step, grabbing at Kristoff's arm to pull him out of the way.

But the rolling stones stopped just in time, and were no longer boulders at all. They leapt forward, unfurling themselves, teetering forward on short stone legs.

"Kristoff!" Buldr cried. "You're here! And you've brought a friend?"

She peered around his legs, to where Freya was still hiding, her fingers digging painfully into her brother's arm.

"This is Freya," Kristoff said, urging her to come out of her hiding spot. A few of the smaller trolls had already lost interest, toddling over to Bunny, petting her with gentle touches. "My sister."

Buldr looked at Cliff, her face cracking along deep-set lines into a smile. "It's nice to meet you, dear. I took care of Kristoff, when he was little."

"When he was big, too." Grand Pabbie grunted, shuffling forward from the back of the group. "To what do we owe this pleasure, hm?"

Kristoff glanced at Freya, who was watching them all with wide eyes. He knew if Agnetha were here, she'd have launched into a million questions, tripping over herself to make friends and find out what made the trolls tick. But Freya was silent, staring, though at least she didn't look so startled now.

"I came to tell you all that I'm-- I'm leaving." Kristoff said. The trolls looked at him blankly, and so he added, "Swynlake. I'm leaving Swynlake."

More blank looks. Kristoff looked at Freya, and for the first time since they had made it to the quarry, she smiled. She nodded encouragingly, and so Kristoff took a deep breath, turning back to face the rabble.

"You're-- you're leaving!?" Shale cried, falling to the floor with a dull thud.

"Well, yeah, but--"

"We'll never see him again!" wailed Cobble, pulling at the tufts of pale green moss that had settled on top of her head.

"Guys--" Kristoff sighed.

"You can't leave!"

"We'll miss you!"

"We miss you already!"

"Silence!" Grand Pabbie called, and the wails and laments fell quiet. From his spot on the floor, Shale was crying, fine dust falling into small piles on the floor. After a second of hesitation, Freya side-stepped around Kristoff, crouching down next to the troll.

"He isn't leaving forever," She said. "He's just coming to spend some time with our family for a while."

Buldr nodded, patting Cobble's shoulder. "He did that before and he came back, remember?"

Kristoff winced, looking at Freya. He had done that, but... that had been different. He had been desperate to get back to the forest, a wild animal caught in a trap, willing to do anything to break out of captivity. He wondered how much of that Freya remembered. She had only been young, little more than a toddler, really. If she did remember, she didn't seem offended.

"Exactly!" She smiled. "He'll be coming back to visit."

"As often as I can." Kristoff nodded, moving to crouch as well, smiling reassuringly as the trolls gathered round. "You lot have been... you've been more than good to me, over the years. And if you hadn't taken care of me as well as you did, I wouldn't be going. I wouldn't even have the chance to go. I'm really grateful to you all for that."

Buldr's ancient face creased once more into a gentle smile. She left Cobble's side to take Kristoff's hand, holding it carefully in her own. "You're a good boy, Kristoff. You always were. You know we'll be here, whenever you come back." She looked over at Freya, who was wiping the fine-powder stone from Shale's cheeks, and said, "It seems like you'll be in good company."

"I think so." He agreed.

"We should have a party!" Crag called from the back of the group. "I'll get a bonfire going!"

"I'll get the food!"

"I'll set up the logs!"

The trolls lept into action, and Kristoff stood, watching all the activity. He had thought this might happen. He looked at Freya once more, who was straightening out too, patting Shale's head as she sent him on his way. "Fancy staying for a while?" He asked her.

"Sure," She said, smiling back at him. "I'll go help them get set up."

She marched down into the quarry, Bunny close on her heels. Kristoff hadn't known what would happen, throwing his two families together like that, but he was glad it had happened, now. And, since there wasn't much time left, he decided he best not waste any of it. He took off after them, following the sound of laughter in the air and the rumble of the earth beneath his feet.

#( journal. )#feat freya

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snowyseba · 6 years ago

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Attention

Summary: Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands. With how busy Steve was lately, you were feeling neglected. When all else failed, you decided to take a more unconventional approach, but maybe you pushed Steve a little too far. This is my first attempt at a dark!fic, so let me know how I did, or if you’d like to read more of this kind of thing in the future.

Just in time for Halloween, here’s my entry for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor 5,500 follower #athousandwords celebration! Congratulations, Roo, you deserve all the followers for those marvelous stories you write! I’m so happy for you! If y’all haven’t already, you should absolutely check out Roo’s Masterlist for all kinds of amazing dark!fics.

Warnings: dark!Steve, non-con/dub-con, possessive Steve, jealous Steve, swearing, unprotected sex, Steve is incredibly out of character. This is a dark fic. I cannot stress that enough. Strictly 18+.

Word Count: 2.2k

Steve had been busy lately, not spending as much time with you as you would have liked. This happened every now and then, especially before a big mission. You understood that he couldn’t help it, but that didn’t mean you liked it. For the past month, you had barely seen your boyfriend, even though you shared an apartment together. He was so wrapped up in researching and planning for the latest mission that he wasn’t even coming home for meals anymore.

He missed your weekly date nights, something he had never done before, and it stung. At first, he’d call you or break the news to you in person, promising to make it up to you. Now, though, he’d send you a quick apologetic text, and you soon grew to expect them. You would have talked to him about it, but how were you supposed to do that when you barely saw him? The last thing you wanted was to start a fight in front of the team, so during the rare occasions that your paths overlapped throughout the day, you tried your best to prevent the frustration and tension you were harboring from showing.

You missed your boyfriend, and none of your attempts to get him to ease up even a little bit on work had been successful. Missing him and desperate for any kind of attention, you decided that you might have to take matters into your own hands. Waiting for Steve to come around was getting exhausting. It was going to take something drastic to shock yourselves out of this pattern you’d fallen into.

Despite his friendly and open demeanor, Steve was extremely possessive of you. He would always grip you just a little tighter in the presence of other men, not afraid to glare at any who’s eyes lingered on you a little too long. You were his. You knew just how to push his buttons to get a rise out of him. It didn’t show with the other Avengers, but that’s because he didn’t perceive them as a threat; they knew you were with him, and they always respected that. Not like you were interested in anyone besides Steve, anyway, but you were pretty sure that if you approached them with your problem, they’d be more than willing to help out.

A few days later, with the help of Wanda and Nat, your plan was in motion. You smoothed over the fabric of your skirt, shorter than you’d usually wear, but you were going to do everything you could to get a rise out of Steve. This outfit had to get his attention. You picked a blouse you knew Steve loved, tucking it in, and unbuttoning it just enough so that if you bent over, the lace of your bra peeked out. A pair of heels, a choker, and the diamond studs Steve bought you for your last anniversary were the finishing touch. You had to admit, you looked good.

Sauntering downstairs, you found Bucky and Sam in the kitchen. Wanda texted you on your way down, saying she and Nat would meet you there in a few minutes. Steve was exactly where you expected him to be; seated at the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in one hand as he immersed himself in the stack of papers in front of him, surrounded by folders he had yet to open. A pang of uncertainty and guilt bloomed in your stomach. Maybe you were taking this a little too far, but you suppressed the thought.

“Morning boys,” you hummed, giving Sam a coy smile as you purposely brushed against Bucky while helping yourself to some coffee. Steve, however, you completely ignored. If he wasn’t going to pay any attention to you, then he was going to get the exact same treatment.

“M-morning, Y/N,” Bucky stammered, taking in what you were wearing.

“Well don’t you clean up nice. I heard you’re having a girls day?” Sam was eyeing you carefully, almost as if he was catching on to what you were doing.

“Thanks, Sammy. Yup, I think Nat, Wanda and I are going out. Superhero life is great and all, but I need a break.” You grinned, batting your eyelashes at Sam as Steve cleared his throat at that particular nickname, finally looking up from the pile of papers.

His eyes found yours and he flashed you a warning look before his gaze traveled down to your outfit, his eyes focused on the lace of your bra that was just barely peeking out from behind your shirt, how dangerously low you had unbuttoned it. There was a reason it was his favorite out of all your shirts. When he realized just how short that tight faux leather skirt was, he had to restrain himself from grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you back to your shared apartment.

“Oh, morning, Steve. Didn’t see you there,” you feigned innocence, taking a sip of your coffee, loving the feeling of his eyes on you.

Steve's brow furrowed, shocked at your response. He swallowed thickly, jaw clenched as he wrestled with his thoughts. Since when did you dress like this? Since when did you call Sam ‘Sammy’? He never wanted to be that controlling boyfriend, but he hated knowing that you’d be going out dressed like that without him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d almost think you were doing this on purpose.

Before he could say anything, though, Nat and Wanda entered the room, their eyes on Steve rather than you, but you were sure part of that was due to their desire to see Steve lose his cool. He was normally so levelheaded, but all that went out the window when it came to you. No one had quite the hold over him that you did. “Ready, Y/N?”

“Ready!”

You set your mug down in the sink, grabbing your purse. Before leaving, you made sure to kiss Bucky’s cheek and give Sam’s bicep a gentle squeeze. You could hear Steve’s sharp intake of breath, but to him, you said nothing, barely even glancing at him on your way out. You didn’t miss the way his arms crossed over his chest straining the fabric of his shirt, his features flushing with anger. “Bye boys. Don’t bother waiting up, we’ll be home late.”

Although you couldn’t see it, you could feel Steve glaring at your back as you left. You’d be in trouble when you got home, that much was clear, but you weren’t quite done teaching Steve a lesson yet.

As you left, your phone vibrated. It was a text from Steve.

You knew you were in trouble just from the tone of the text. But you decided to see how far you could push it. His text went ignored, something you’d normally never do. You loved pleasing Steve, but with how much he’d been ignoring you lately, he deserved a taste of his own medicine.

You got home late, well after midnight. The apartment was dark and you figured Steve had gone to sleep. Knowing him, he’d have to be up early tomorrow, so he wouldn’t have waited up anyway. Maybe you had underestimated his ability to compartmentalize.

You didn’t realize just how wrong you were. What you didn’t notice, was the figure that slowly stood from the living room armchair, approaching with all the stealth of a trained agent. Out of nowhere, a hand suddenly wrapped around your throat, forcing you backward pinning you against the door before you even have a chance to take your shoes off. The breath left your lungs and you could feel your heart hammering in fear.

Standing in front of you, tightening his grip on your throat to keep you immobile, was Steve Rogers. He was pissed. He was fuming. That much was obvious. Anger rolled off him in palpable waves. His muscles were tensed, as if ready for a fight, and in the darkness, you could see the scowl on his face. “What the hell has gotten into you lately?”

“Well, definitely not you,” you retorted. “Funny, I could ask you the same thing.”

“Y/N,” he warned, grip on your neck tightening ever so slightly, now starting to inhibit your breathing. Whether he was doing it intentionally or not, his message was clear; you’re really pushing your luck. “I’ll repeat myself one more time. What. The. Hell,” his knee was between your legs now, roughly spreading them apart, “has gotten into you. Flirting with Sam? With Bucky? Right in front of me as if was invisible. I’m not that scrawny boy from Brooklyn anymore, doll. You don’t get to ignore me. I’m just as good as Bucky Barnes. Better. I’m Captain America, doll, do you know how many people would kill to be where you are right now?”

“Oh, so you did notice then,” you tried to resist the urge to roll your eyes, knowing it would only get you in more trouble.

Before you fully realized what Steve was doing, his hand moved from your neck to your waist, and he hoisted you up over his shoulder, gripping your ass tightly. He took the stairs two at a time, not even bothering to turn on a light. It would only delay him. “You really are a fuckin’ brat, you know that, Y/N? You know how hard I work to keep you safe? To keep the world safe?”

He dumped you onto the bed unceremoniously, stepping back and waving his hands with a slight shrug of his tensed shoulders. “Well, Y/N?”

“Oh, you’re keeping me safe? Sure, Steve. That’s why you’ve all but ignored me for the past month.”

He stalked closer to you, standing at the foot of the bed, towering over you menacingly, his jaw clenched, fists balled at his side as he took a deep breath. “Oh, I ignored you? You think I didn’t notice you flirting with every single man in your midst? You think I didn’t see how you watched me while you kissed Bucky’s cheek? I saw everything. And you know what I think? I think you’re a goddamn brat who needs to learn her place. I don’t care how busy I am, or how unfair you think I’m being.”

Steve’s hands were on you then, gripping your hips tightly, yanking you towards him, letting you fall back against the bed. One hand gripped both your wrists above your head as the other found its way between your legs. When his fingers found your core unobstructed, he let out a dangerous huff. “No panties, princess? You think you can just wear whatever you want? I don’t think so. You belong to me, princess. Only I get to see your pretty little pussy. Only I get to touch you,” his thumb brushed against your clit, just enough to elicit a low whine. “You’re mine. Say it, doll. Who do you belong to?”

When you didn’t answer immediately, he gave your clit a sharp slap, the stinging instinctively making you try to close your legs. “I don’t fucking think so,” Steve growled. “You’ll keep your legs open and accept your punishment until you answer me. Who the fuck do you belong to?”

You could feel your heart beating like it was trying to jump out of your chest. Your skin felt like it was on fire with even the slightest touch, and your cunt was throbbing in a combination of pain and need that was entirely new. The rational part of your brain said that Steve was going too far, that this was a terrifying new side of Steve that you hadn’t known existed and that you should be afraid. Maybe you had pushed him too far, but the sudden feeling of his lips against the nape of your neck, the sound of fabric ripping as he tore your shirt open, well it was enough to chase any rational thoughts out of your head.

Again, you took too long to answer, and again, you felt the sharp sting of his hand, this time making you cry out in pain. “Steve, stop,” you gasped. “Please.”

“Stop? You want me to stop?” Steve’s grip on your hands tightened as he ran a knuckle down your cheek before taking your nipple in his mouth, grazing the bud with his teeth. “You’re the one who started this, princess. You’re the one parading around showing off those perfect tits, not even wearing panties. You wanted my attention, doll? You’ve got it, and I’m going to give you everything you wanted and more.”

Steve pulled away from you for just a moment, going to the bedside table to retrieve something. Every fiber of your being was telling you to run, but you were petrified. Steve was a super soldier, and you were just a human. Trying to escape would only make things worse.

You felt it, rough and scratchy against your wrists before you could see what Steve was doing. Rope. “Oh, princess, I’m just getting started. By the time I’m done with you, no one will ever doubt who you belong to, not even you.”

#athousandwords #dark!steve #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #dark!steve rogers imagine

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inkstaineddove · 5 years ago

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The Pride of Wisdom

Characters: Prussia, Austria, Switzerland, Hungary; mentioned Holy Rome, England

Summary: To create Germany's body, Prussia and Austria must work together using less than typical means. Somehow, their plans are found out and lead to an uncomfortable confrontation with a incredibly upset Switzerland over the morals of their methodology.

A/N: The title comes from a Frankenstein quote '“Man," I cried, "how ignorant art thou in thy pride of wisdom!”' There's some overlap in themes between this story and that classic which, while unintentional, I decided to lean into in the choice of title. I've also changed Switzerland's name from Bash/Vash to Roland due to neither of those names being actual names and my liking many alternatives for him better that work in French and German. I hope this doesn't impair anyone's enjoyment too much and, if it's bothersome, I apologize. I can also explain why the date for which this is set too, as it's much earlier than any formal efforts by Austria or Prussia to unify, which is acknowledged by Roderich and Gilbert.

Vienna, 1835.

Prussia knocked impatiently on the door. All was quiet around him save for the gentle patter of rain against the ground. It was the typical nighttime stillness and he found it irritating. No one appeared to be stirring. He knocked on the door again, this time with much more force.

“Yes, yes, I heard you the first time!” The door was flung open by a flustered Austria. He ushered Prussia inside. “Are you ready? I would prefer to get this over with as soon as possible.”

“Of course I’m ready. I didn’t come all this way to laze around. Where is it?”

Austria led them to the basement. At the very end, something the length and shape of a child sat atop an old table. It was wrapped in a series of blankets, masking what was beneath.

Gilbert hoisted it up over his shoulder. He patted the padding around it affectionately. “What’s with all this? Were you really that afraid of people snooping?” For once, his teasing appeared to be good natured. They were acting towards the same goal, eliminating any need for malice between them in the short-term.

“I wish that were the case. How many years has it been now? It’s been rotting in that crypt for long enough. I didn’t want the stench to fill up my home.” Roderich extinguished the candle he’d lit to illuminate the room. “Carry it up to the kitchen. There’s plenty of room there for what you’ll need to do.”

“You’re not worried about any of the servants walking in?” Gilbert shrugged, silently impressed at the lack of concern. It seemed uncharacteristic of his host, but there could be hidden depths he had yet to discover.

Roderich gave him an incredulous look. “You think I would have them here? No, I’ve sent them home to their families for the weekend. Much easier to operate without fearing an interruption.” He shook his head. “Honestly, Gilbert, what kind of fool do you take me for? The risk I’d run to my reputation if any of them saw. Perhaps you can flout the wishes of your government openly, but I prefer to have a bit more tact in my personal rebellions.”

That was disappointing. And here Gilbert had almost believed he had rubbed off on Roderich, had taught the man the benefits of cutting it fast and loose. He shook it off quickly, imagining the humor in Roderich being left alone to fend for himself. He smirked. “No one to look after you? How have you made it this long? I would expect you to be wasting away by now.”

That earned him a sharp rebuke. Roderich opened the door leading them out of the basement, casting a foul look over his shoulder. “I am fully capable of navigating a kitchen. For years I got along fine without any help. I can certainly last for a few days. Your concern is misplaced.” A self-satisfied little smile made itself home on his lips. “Besides, I doubt that you would find it very comfortable without them either. Do barbarians know how to use a knife for cutting meats or is it only a tool for bloodshed in your hands?”

Gilbert laughed. “That says it all. Erzsi’s been doing all the cooking, hasn’t she?” The silence he received proved telling. He laughed harder now, having to lean against the kitchen’s doorframe for assistance holding himself up. He wiped a tear from his eye. “For a second – a second! – you almost had me. Ah, poor Roddy. You’ve grown too soft from all the years of living as a pampered kitten.”

A loud sigh escaped from Austria before he could contain it. His face burned red. There were more important things at hand, the teasing could be saved till later. He tapped his foot impatiently. “Can we begin this? The sooner it’s over the better. Now, where is that…thing you were supposed to get from Arthur?”

Prussia set what he’d been carrying down on the counter. Out of his pocket, he pulled a worn and leather-bound book. The cover contained various markings that held no meaning to either man. “Relax, I’ve got it right here. Arthur handed it over without so much as a fight. All he did was warn me to be careful.”

Panic flashed through Austria’s eyes. “Don’t tell me he knows what we’re doing.” His anxiety only increased when Prussia could no longer meet his gaze. “You absolute moron! Why would you think that appropriate! If France catches wind of what we’re doing – much less our own kings – it will be our heads on the chopping block! The one time it truly mattered for you to keep your damn mouth closed and you couldn’t be bothered! You’re an imbecile!”

“What would you have done? He cornered me on the damn issue, pressing me for why I needed a spell book with such a thing in it. What would you have me say? The guy’s been reliable enough to me, I felt sure I could trust him.” Prussia shrugged. “All that mattered to him was that it would hurt France in some way. And I never told him the details, but I’m sure he figured out a lot of it for himself.”

This answer satisfied Roderich somewhat. His worries were still gnawing at him, but he pushed them aside. There was no need to get into them now, there was nothing that could be done. He began undoing the knot of blankets that hid what they carried. Finally, he reached the last one and did away with it. There, amid them all, laid what remained of Holy Rome’s corpse. He gagged on the scent, stumbling away from the counter.

Gilbert seemed completely undisturbed by it. By now, the scent of death meant nothing to him. He flipped open the little book to the page he needed, skimming the instructions. He had them memorized as he’d been reading and rereading it over the journey here. Still, he wanted to be completely sure of himself. They couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.

“Where’s the rosemary? We need to burn that first and clean what we’re going to use with moon water.” The absurdity of Gilbert saying such things wasn’t lost on either of them. He suppressed his smile, knowing he needed to be serious.

Roderich stood on the far side of the room, with his head turned towards the hallway. The air where he was remained pure and not putrid. “It’s not h-” a loud banging on the door cut him off. Irritation prickled his skin as he headed towards the front entrance. “Who in the world could that be? That incessant banging at such an hour. What could possibly be so important that it can’t wait till tomorrow?”

He threw open the door, surprised to be staring down an infuriated Switzerland. Roland pushed through, backing Roderich up into Gilbert. “You know what’s just wonderful? You two shut everybody out of your little schemes, but word always seems to travel. Both of your damn egos don’t allow you to keep your mouths quiet, huh?” His breathing was ragged, and his shoulders trembled in their fury.

Roderich threw his hands up between them, trying to gently push the other man away. “What are you rambling on about? You come here, bursting in like a madman, and expect us to have any idea what it is you’re referring to? Outlandish, have some courtesy.” Despite how calm he sounded, his heart was racing in his chest. He supposed this is what a cornered animal felt like.

His answer was unsatisfactory. He was grabbed by the collar of his shirt. Never had he seen such mania in Roland’s eyes. “Don’t play coy with me! You think that act really works for anyone but your princes, too inbred to have anything resembling a brain left between their ears? You and I both know exactly what I’m talking about! This crime against nature! You both should be ashamed!”

“Schwarze, the only crime against nature happening here is that Roddy and I are spending a peaceful evening together.” Gilbert gingerly freed a grateful Roderich, moving slowly so as not to enrage Roland further. “There’s no need to burst in here like this. You’d be better served heading home.” He tried nudging Roland away, but the man refused to budge.

The more they pretended everything was normal, that nothing was out of the ordinary, the more they increased Roland’s rage. He narrowed his gaze on Gilbert now, eyes blazing with a fire that refused to be stomped out. He smacked Gilbert’s hand away with a look of disgust. “Don’t you dare touch me! I don’t need to be corrupted by your influence either!” He noticed the light coming from behind the others and barreled his way into the kitchen, moving faster than they could react to. He skidded to halt before the counter, dry heaving. “This proves it! It’s exactly what I heard from the others!” His voice was weaker now, his words stuttered out between gags.

Roderich and Gilbert stood in the doorway, sharing looks. Each was challenging the other to extrapolate themselves from this mess. What was there to say or do? While both were skilled at manipulating others to do their bidding or to go along with their schemes, there was no way to trick Roland into disbelieving his own eyes and nose. It would require something more creative, but both were at a loss.

Roderich dared to try first, stepping into the room. To his surprise, he had grown adjusted to the stink enough to hardly notice it. “Roland, please, you’re hurrying to all sorts of unfounded conclusions. Why not provide us with a moment to explain ourselves? You forget how reasonable we are.” Part of him was weirded out by how implicitly complimentary he was speaking of Gilbert. The pragmatic half of him, the one currently controlling his actions, couldn’t be bothered to care. There was the more important matter of appearances and reputation; any rivalry was secondary to that.

“Reasonable? You both lost any claim to that when you dug up a grave to work some sort of devil’s magic! Things that are dead should stay dead. Though you’ve never been one to understand that, haven’t you, Roderich?” Roland sneered at him with a look in his eyes conveying how little he thought of both men before him.

The bitterness stung, melting any of Roderich’s faux politeness away. His fingers twitched, wanting to smack the self-righteous look off Roland’s face. “And yet I’m not the one barging into your home, telling you that which you can and cannot do. Seems like only one of us has moved on from things better left in the past, while the other is still hurt over how easily replaceable he was.” He grinned, seeing that his words hit their intended mark. “What we do should be of no concern to you, being the neutral party and all. Really, what claim do you have in our affairs when you constantly refuse to help either of us? You have no thoughts when we’re trying to destroy one another, but, now that we’re working towards the same goal, that’s what you find objectionable? You truly defy all logic.”

Roland ground his teeth together, trying and failing to keep from exploding. “Why would I care when you two are out killing each other? If one of you fades away, that’d be a blessing to us all. Maybe this part of Europe could catch a break from the constant warfare if one of you is pacified! But this? Oh, this is beyond belief!” He began pacing, needing to get his excess energy out in a way that didn’t end in a brawl. “This is an act against creation! A sin if there ever were one! Our kind may have incredible powers, but they’re meant to protect our people and not engage in something like this, something so sinister!”

“Roland, you’re really going to throw around charges like this? Our very existence is a sin. We shouldn’t exist by all accounts and yet-” Gilbert dramatically waved his left hand around, strolling into the room. “here we are. What would you say is the worst sin: taking life so freely as we do, slaughtering many in wars for our own power grabs, or giving back life to what is dead, reviving what is still?” He spoke with the passion of a former zealot. These were questions he’d grappled with while serving as the Teutonic Knights, questions that hadn’t left him since. A mischievous glint appeared his eyes and he smiled, belying that he already knew the answer. “The sin is always in taking and salvation is found in giving. Our work here should be admirable, even if isn’t the most traditional route.”

“Cut with the choir boy shit! I’m not one of the pagans you can spout a bunch of garbage off to and convert. Have a little respect for my intelligence, Gilbert. You and I both know you’re trying to play God here and it’s sickening! Karl was a failed experiment with a body too frail for this life. It’s cruelty to subject another person to that kind of torment.” He laughed, cold and harsh. “Who am I kidding? As if either of you care what kind of life it lives. This only makes your ambitions more obvious.”

Gilbert flicked his wrist, batting Roland’s words aside. “Who’s to say we’re not as close to gods as you can get? Think of it, we all have limitless power and can’t be destroyed except by our own hands. Neither of you can stand here and pretend like you didn’t try praying to whichever god we’re told to believe in, desperate to find the meaning of this existence, only to find no answer in response. Maybe you weren’t, but I was forced to walk through fire too many times to where I can still feel the rope around my wrists. And still I look like the devil, as if God’s cures don’t work and His laws were written by men. If we’re not gods then we must be monsters and, either way, that gives us free reign to act as we please.” He realized he was speaking with too much honesty, felt the surprised eyes boring into his skin, and cleared his throat. He smiled, changing tones with a speed that could cause whiplash. “I thought you couldn’t stand Karl, what’s with the sudden concern? If all this goes right, his body should be good as new, nothing to worry about. He’ll be healthier than the last kid and with enough strength that all of Europe will be listening to us.”

“‘Us?’ You two plan to share him?” Roland snorted. “As if that will last. I shouldn’t be so worried. Both of you will have destroyed him as soon as he’s breathing.” He shot them both a glare. “I don’t have to like someone to do what is right. No one should treat anyone’s body with such disregard, especially one who has no say in the matter.”

“Ah, so it’s about consent? Well, let’s ask him!” Gilbert moved to the counter, standing over Holy Rome’s corpse. “Karl, do you mind if we use your body for Germany’s? What was that?” He leaned down low, meeting Roland’s gaze with ferocity and manic energy. “Right! It doesn’t matter because he’s dead!”

It was a grim joke, one that belied his soldier’s sense of humor and one no one else found funny. Roderich wrinkled his nose. “Gilbert, don’t be so crass. That’s distasteful.” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. This conversation was going nowhere, both sides remained firmly entrenched in their beliefs. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

Erzsébet burst into the room, a wide smile across her face. She was unfazed by the stench of decay, grown too used to it on the fields of battle and revolt. She set her bag down, removing its contents. “Really, Roderich, there was no need to send me out so late. I understand that we must be cautious, but this is a bit much.” She smiled sweetly at Gilbert, who was standing in her line of sight. “Gil, what’s with the look on your face? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” She laughed at her own lame joke, before following the Gilbert and Roderich’s gaze. She froze at the sight of Roland, who looked ready to snap again. “Ah, fuck.”

She barely finished speaking before Roland was carrying on again. “I should’ve known. Even your little whore is in on it too. Anything to follow them to the ends of the earth, right Erzsébet? And you’re supposed to be the moral center.” He had never liked her, for reasons Erzsébet was clueless on, but this was much crueler than his usual treatment towards her. “Grow a spine, dammit. I thought even you could see how wrong this is, but I guess I thought too highly of you. Do none of you really care what the others will think once they find out?”

“Roland, you realize you’re the only one with any objections, right? Did neither of them tell you that they spoke with Saxony and Bavaria about this, that this isn’t what you’re thinking.” She looked between Austria and Prussia. “You two really didn’t? I forget how helpless you both are.”

Prussia seized upon this, appreciating where she was leading them. “We probably should have mentioned this earlier, but we do have the go ahead from everyone. A lot of our people are desperate for Germany of some kind. The four of us agreed it would be in our best interest if we, at least, got a body ready.” He laughed, relaxing considerably now that things appeared to be going their way. “It’s been so long since we had a kid in the family, it was getting stale with all the same faces.”

“That’s it? The four of you decide everything for this family? No one else has any say?” Roland tried to suppress his hurt feelings, desperately not wanting his upset to be on display. And he would’ve as the changes were barely perceptible. But Roderich knew him too well, knew exactly what it meant when Roland couldn’t maintain eye contact, when he began chewing at his bottom lip, when his hands rolled and re-rolled into fists.

Roderich intended to capitalize. With cool detachment, he smiled. “You know Gilbert, he speaks in generalizations. We did speak to others, some of the lesser states. If he truly is to represent Germany, then his birth must be through a method we all agree on. And, astonishingly, there were no qualms with our idea so long as it was us who got our hands dirty. Which is fair since it will be through our might alone that things will coalesce, but that’s at a later time. As for the present, why we didn’t speak to you is simple.” His smile widened and he paused a beat, relishing it. “You’re not our family. You lost the privilege to be consulted on these matters when you left us. No harsh feelings, of course.”

His words had their intended effect. Roland stiffened up, his eyes becoming distant to separate himself from the conversation. He looked to Gilbert and Erzsébet and, finding no allies in either of them, turned his attention to the wall. “Of course,” he grumbled bitterly. Recovering slightly, he tried to regain some mojo, but found much of it lost. “And you, Erzsébet. Why do you go along with this?” He needed to believe he wasn’t the only sane man left standing, that she had some wits about her.

She was caught off guard by him suddenly using her name. He normally only referred to her in derogatory terms, never had he been so respectful. Her surprise led her straight into honesty. “What else am I to do? What say do I have in all this? I had no love for Karl, but if he can be repurposed then what’s stopping us? Besides, perhaps having a kid around again will give me something to do if I’m not allowed to live in Budapest.” She shared a tense look with Roderich, conveying arguments Roland wasn’t privy to. He was unsurprised to see Gilbert’s quick look of contempt towards Roderich, but wondered what else he had missed while attempting to float above the fray.

He was big enough to admit defeat. He sighed, frustrated by the outcome. But what was there to do when the world was aligned against him? Maybe he was the one with the lopsided morals and that playing with dark forces was now acceptable. He found that, if that were the case, he’d rather sequester himself in the Alps away from the rest of the world rather than try to engage it. “I see how it is then. Fine, have it your way.” He gave one final disgusted glance at the corpse, before turning on his heel. “There’s nothing left for me here. Hasn’t been in years.”

“Allow me to escort you out,” Roderich offered more out of habit than genuine kindness.

Once they had left, Gilbert and Erzsébet began preparing everything, unpacking what she had brought and assembling all their tools. Lavender burned in the center of the room, purifying the area. Gilbert lifted the needle from the moon water, threading it carefully. Roderich returned, taking his place besides Erzsébet. Gilbert grinned at them, adrenaline pumping through his veins. “Let’s get ourselves a son.”

#aph prussia #hws prussia #aph austria #hws austria #aph hungary #hws hungary #aph switzerland #hws switzerland #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fanfiction #aph fanfic #aph fanfiction #hws fanfic #hws fanfiction #its left intentionally ambiguous on what destroyed the swissaus personal relationship #if you interpret as a romantic/familial/paternal falling out then youre correct #whatever it is to you is right #but he is jealous of erzsi seemingly taking his place - regardless of the validity of that belief

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cosmosogler · 8 years ago

Text

it’s weird, the disconnect between how much i prevented things from happening today and how much things still happened.

i mostly avoided talking to people. slept in kinda late because i went to bed so late last night. tonight might not be any better...

it feels like i have the same conversation with myself every morning. where i suddenly think, “i had that dream again.” and then i say, “which dream???” and the only answer i have is “that one.”

except, like, i remember the dreams i am having to some extent, and none of them have been the same! it’s not a recurring dream or anything! i just wake up and make yet another tally mark for absolutely no reason and it bothers me periodically throughout the day.

in the morning i took care of some stuff for snoopy’s rabies tag. then i did basically nothing all day, i had a nice breakfast, and i cleaned up the apartment, and i felt really sick and painful all morning. then i made veggie burgers for lunch and that turned out ok, except the burgers got burned even though i followed the directions.

i also listened to the adventure zone for like four hours. i dunno. i didn’t feel like doing anything else. i felt lonely. not sure about what to do. the podcast is a nice way to pass some time without having a panic attack from being alone for too long.

well, not a panic attack just from being alone. but the things that happen while i am alone and don’t always happen when i am around other people. being with people doesn’t always prevent me from getting really bummed and sometimes upset, but it feels like it helps sometimes.

i also sat with snoopy for a while... as the day rolled into evening i realized i hadn’t really done anything so i went out to the gym. the gym was closed though so i decided to just take a walk along main street and see the shopping area.

well, it was only a shopping area for one avenue. after that i ended up on like a country road. i felt... exposed. i also got stopped by a woman trying to pay for a ride back to her home in another city before the hurricane arrived. i felt really powerless, because, i only had my water bottle and my keys, because i’d been meaning to go to the gym. i had my ipod but it’s not a phone. it’s an old regular ipod with no cell connection and a cracked and chipped screen because my pockets are always too small and it falls out.

as the woman dumped her life story on me i had to cut her off after a minute or two. i told her i didn’t want to waste her time and i didn’t have any money or anything that could help her. i could walk with her somewhere if she needed that. she seemed really upset, but she shook my hand and thanked me. i kind of put my hand under my bangs when i said i didn’t have my phone, but i don’t know if she recognized that my ipod is not a phone. i don’t know anyone in town who could help her anyway but just having the ability to make a call for her... i dunno.

i kept walking and ended up way out where there were no buildings. i looked at the street signs. i had gone about seven blocks. five? not that far at all. i turned east and kept going for a little while, then i made a loop around. i kind of nodded at people as i walked by to acknowledge them but i don’t know if that actually does anything. i felt like they were glaring at me. one guy was out walking his dog and the dog really wanted pets but i didn’t want to talk to the owner so i just smiled at the dog and kept going.

i was only out for like 40 minutes. well, “only.” maybe 45. it didn’t feel like enough even though i was sweaty and thirsty. i dunno. walking alone is intimidating. walking in cities alone is worse. walking out in the middle of nowhere with a lot of tree and bush cover alone is just not fun.

i hope that woman got what she needed. i hope she’s ok. they always start talking before i can turn off my ipod and i never really catch the first sentence they say to me.

i just don’t have a lot of money to give right now. by not a lot i mean none. my budget’s really tight between mine and snoopy’s meds and the rent payment compared to my first paycheck...

like. i know my parents can bail me out in an emergency. but that’s not spending money, and it’s not money i can take to give to others, and it’s not cash i actively have in my wallet.

i wish i had the means and energy to volunteer again but i just don’t. and that wouldn’t stop me from getting stopped on the street anyway. it makes me not want to take walks.

i talked to oz about it a little bit afterward, just a little. i spent some of the evening after dinner watching some youtube videos, and then i listened to another taz episode. i got to the end of 52, and i also got through the live episodes today. it’s... a lot. lethargy and procrastination manifest in strange forms. i’ll have all the motivation in the world to clean or to watch something i’ve been meaning to watch, but by god is reading hard! or, i’ll want to do a lot of homework and i won’t have any energy or interest at all for personal projects or feeding myself or keeping my apartment as clean as i like.

today i swept and washed up the bathroom a bit and did exercise but i didn’t do the dishes. the stuff i do actually finish never seems as important as the stuff i didn’t do. like everyone expects me to juggle with five balls but i can only manage three, or on a good day, four. but even on a good day i still fall behind everyone else.

no matter what i do, no matter how urgent or “adulting” the things i did were, the things i didn’t do were ALWAYS more “real” work i was avoiding. the things i like to do are all “fake” work. sweeping is “fake” work, taking out the trash, securing snoopy’s license, faxing papers to my psychiatrist. dishes would have been “real” work.

ok that sounds dumb when i put everything there like that. but i really didn’t do homework today and that’s upsetting, even though my homework is sitting literally less than a foot to the right of my elbow. my eyes just slide over it and find something i could put away instead. i didn’t want to interact with anyone in person today so i just didn’t buy stuff i might need during the storm. i guess i could deal with it when it happens during the storm but like... i could have prevented that if i’d just tried harder.

ngh... people always joke about binge-watching shows being an “i felt lazy so i watched a lot of tv” thing but that stuff takes a significant amount of energy to start and continue doing. i enjoy it, and i know i’ll enjoy it, but starting is still work for me. when an adventure time episode airs, even when i’m vibrating with excitement over it, watching it is still work. talking to friends is work. talking to friends about things besides frickin black holes or whatever the hell is on my mind is work!!! and it’s super disappointing when i fail to put in that work and people think i’m either ignoring them or steamrolling them. being not “too much” is WORK.

i love taz. i love it so much. but since it takes so much energy to start an episode and get all the way through it (i take breaks sometimes and then have to come back to it), doing that feels like work! it takes energy!! and then when it comes time to do other things that take energy i go to do it and then i suddenly don’t have that energy, because i spent it all trying to do something i enjoy so i don’t feel like garbage for a few hours.

that’s why watching movies is SO HARD for me. they’re meant to be watched all at once. the pacing and editing don’t work as well when i stop and get up for a few minutes. and i can’t stop and get up when i’m watching them with friends so it feels like a huge commitment even for an 80-minute animated movie about balto. or the iron giant, which is a fantastic movie. tokyo godfathers is a fantastic movie. but it’s still work.

why am i like this. maybe i’m lying to myself. maybe things i enjoy aren’t actually work and i’m just making excuses so i don’t have to do REAL work. or smart work. or creative work.

everyone who isn’t my family (or like two therapists) tells me i work so hard. and they seem confused that i feel like i’m not working hard. but sometimes i have a suspicion that i am so supremely lazy that i just build up depression and anxiety around myself so i’ll have a reason not to do something important. like live my life! all the obstacles are my fault, yes, that’s it!!!

i am confused about my relationship with the real world and my, like, place within it. i don’t get the confused feelings as much when i’m actually interacting with other people, even just over text. sometimes i feel powerless and terrible and i don’t see the point. other times i feel all-powerful and like everything is my fault and i’m terrible because all my problems are my own fault and i’m not good enough to just stop having problems and i don’t see the point.

i feel like i have some kind of other underlying problem that is hiding behind depression and anxiety.

it’s not... what mom thinks it is. i think about it all the time. i look at symptoms and signs over and over. i don’t seem to have the key lack of social skills, and mother has never mentioned to anyone (she likes to tell my life story a lot) that i suddenly experienced developmental problems, which is like, the big thing for that. there is some overlap in my experience... but i don’t know what’s super important for that diagnosis and what isn’t.

but hey! the internet says a lot of things happen when small children have depression!! and mine went basically untreated until adulthood!!! so!!!! maybe!!!!! it’s just that!!!!!!!

looking at the ways you’re supposed to prevent and treat childhood depression makes me cry because my parents basically failed at literally every level there. my pediatrician failed at literally every level with both the mood disorder and the heart defect. my teachers failed at every level at every school with the bullies and the other students’ parents bullying me. the hospitals and doctors failed me for seven months while i wasn’t able to eat because the first guy just didn’t feel like doing the normal gallbladder test!

and now I’M an adult, and I’M failing everyone! how could i not hate myself???

the storm isn’t projected to really get into full swing up here until sunday. but maybe... maybe tomorrow i’ll try to talk to someone over text. one of my classmates i guess. and i guess i could try to go buy the bathroom supplies and wash my dishes before things get any sort of bad. it might not be fun but it should be ok. the water treatment plant expects to keep emergency power, if not regular operational power. that doesn’t mean it’ll happen, and i still have my extra water in the fridge, but i know that these people have lived here a long time and can generally tell when something will definitely fail and when it won’t definitely fail.

and... at least snoopy likes me. and eve likes me, even though i can’t be with her now. and snoopy is depending on me and she hasn’t starved to death or anything yet. she seems happier and healthier than she was a few weeks ago even.

barbara, dad’s mom, called me the other day to tell me to be careful during the storm. she seemed to think i was on the coast. i never know what to say to her. i feel dirty accepting any kind of love or concern from her. pet killer. people are multifaceted. i know. but some flaws are just unacceptable. her concern feels insulting at this point. her and mom and dad have gotta have noticed by now that i call her barbara and not grandma. but it’s easy to lie and just say “thanks” in a nice tone of voice where she can’t see my face. it’s easy to lie to mom too and just say my rehearsed “love you too.” keep the wheels greased i guess.

lying is so easy. i don’t know if other people can tell. maybe they can and i think lying is easy but i’m actually super bad at it. at this point it’s like, i’m following a script, and as long as people expect me to follow that script they won’t think about it. if i really want to lie i just, kind of, omit information. or straight up don’t say anything. i guess that’s not the same as lying.

does that make me bad? does that make me a sociopath or something? that’s not the same as bad, it’s a separate question.

... am i stupid? i feel like i’m stupid. i need someone to tell me i’m not stupid. no, do it again, i didn’t believe you the first three hundred times. dude, i don’t even believe MYSELF and i’ve said it over a thousand times. i can’t seem to validate myself, but it seems like i won’t let anyone else validate me either. i tell the same stupid stories all the time over and over and it’s boring. i’m not creative enough to have any new thoughts or find third options or figure out shortcuts or whatever. and i’m not smart enough to believe it when other people (or me) tell me i’m intelligent or clever or talented.

i mean, i do appreciate it. it feels better for a few minutes. then i just fall into the same dumb hole on my ass like a dunce again.

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lady-divine-writes · 8 years ago

Text

Klaine one-shot - “Problem Areas” (Rated PG13)

Kurt comes home from a rare Saturday work day, eager to go out on a date with his husband. But he finds Blaine acting strange, withdrawn, with odd Sharpie marks all over his skin. (2100 words)

Okay, so, I've been a little down on myself, and this is something I've been toying around with. I just recently got motivated to finish it. This is something that actually happened to me a long time ago when I started modeling, I was just way sassier back then with how I handled it xD I don't know for sure if they do it now, but to be honest, I wouldn't be surprised. Warning for angst, body issues, self-esteem issues, and body shaming. Mention of Sam. Kurt and Blaine still attend NYADA, but Kurt works at Vogue.

Read on AO3.

“Hey, honey! I’m home!” Kurt announces while he struggles with full hands to unlock the door to the loft. He’s relieved to finally be home. He hates working on Saturdays. Saturdays and Sundays are the only days he and Blaine get to spend 100% alone with each other. They turn off their phones, stay in bed all day, ignore the occasional knocks on the door from friends who can’t take a hint. Kurt loves his job at Vogue. He loves his boss, Isabelle. But Saturdays are reserved for him and his husband.

Thank God this only happens once in a blue moon.

The one good thing that came from working today was it gave Blaine an opportunity to spend some bro time with Sam. Ever since Sam got signed on at Wilhelmina, he’s been too busy working to stop by. Not that Kurt minds. He’s glad that Sam found his niche in the New York modeling world, especially since it removed him from their couch. But he could tell that Blaine missed him, and all of the creepy bonding stuff they used to do.

Seriously. Kurt doesn’t know what he was more bothered by – Sam’s obsession with Star Wars fanfiction, or Blaine encouraging it, not only reading it to Sam before he went to sleep every night, but also acting out the voices.

One night, after Sam moved out, Blaine had even suggested roleplaying a particularly smutty fanfic he’d discovered to Kurt.

Kurt said no. He wasn’t touching that with a ten-foot pole.

“Blaine?” Kurt calls when Blaine doesn’t answer. “Are you home?”

“Uh, yeah,” Blaine replies in an anxious voice. “Yeah, I’m home. I’m in the bedroom.”

“Good! Get dressed! We’re going out on a date!” Kurt shuts the door behind him with a push of his foot. “Dinner, remember? You chose the spot.”

“No, uh … I don’t think I want to go out to dinner. I, uh …”

“Why not? You’ve been wanting to go to that new Ethiopian place for over a week now!” Kurt drops his belongings on the sofa - messenger bag, portfolios, his reusable lunch bag, his coat - and heads for their room. “Do you feel sick? Ugh! I knew that eating cottage cheese three days past the sell by date wasn’t a good idea.”

“Uh, no. It’s not that. I just …”

Kurt stutters to a stop inside the doorway to their room when he sees his husband sitting on the bed in nothing but his purple briefs. Kurt would normally grin like a frisky cat at the sight of his hot, half-dressed man and then pounce, except Blaine looks like he’s in pain - arms holding his stomach, hunched over, staring down at the floor.

“Blaine? Blaine, are you …?” Kurt rushes in. He’s almost at the bed when he sees strange black marks on Blaine’s skin – circles, dashes, and in a few cases, x’s. “What are … what are those, Blaine?” Kurt traces one mark on the back of Blaine’s bicep – a dark circle that looks like it may have been made with a Sharpie. Blaine’s eyes dart to the mirror to look at Kurt, but his gaze falls short of his face. He looks back at the floor and winds his arms tighter.

“They’re, uh … I got them at … Sam and I, w-we stopped by Wilhelmina so he could show me around. The director there … she said she liked my look. She asked if I wanted to sign on with them, too. I didn’t see the harm. It was kind of flattering. Another thing to put on the resume, right?” Kurt sits and puts a hand on Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine shrinks like he might shrug it off, but he doesn’t. “They had me change into a swimsuit - some little red Speedo thing from the 80s. I … I had Sam take pictures,” Blaine admits with a shaky smile, “in case you wanted to see.” Kurt nods and smiles back, hoping Blaine’s smile will stay, but it doesn’t. It twitches at the corners and slips away. “They wanted to see how I looked under lights in front of a white backdrop. But then …” Blaine stops and swallows, too embarrassed to continue.

Kurt’s brows pull together, an angry, incredulous heat beginning to boil behind his ears and spreading to his cheeks. “You mean, someone from the agency drew those marks on you?”

Blaine doesn’t speak. He simply nods.

Kurt looks the marks over. He’s worked with dozens of models and photographers during his time at Vogue and he’s never seen anything like this. He’s definitely never seen Sam come home with marks like these. What the hell …?

“What … what do they mean?”

“They’re, uh …” Blaine’s voice squeaks when he talks again. He clears his throat in order to continue. “They’re my … problem … areas.”

The heat in Kurt’s cheeks shoots straight to his forehead, his brain inside his skull broiling. “What!?”

“They’re the things they told me I’d have to work on if I wanted to become a model,” Blaine explains. “Places where I need to build muscle … places I need to lose fat … you know …” His voice becomes thin, trails off.

“No, Blaine! I don’t know!” Kurt spits. “How could you let them do this to you!? A-and what about Sam!? Why didn’t he say anything!?”

“Kurt, it’s okay,” Blaine says with a hollow laugh, trying to diffuse Kurt’s temper. “We both know I don’t have the body I used to. I’ve been struggling with my weight for a while. It’s no … it’s no secret.”

Kurt watches Blaine fold in on himself, more uncomfortable now than he looked when Kurt first walked in, and Kurt knows he’s partially to blame for that. He shouldn’t have flown off the handle. But he’s done with judgmental assholes and fair-weather friends. Not that Sam is one. He’s always been one of the most loyal people Kurt has ever known. Maybe he was somewhere else at the time. Maybe he was worried that if he said something, it would negatively impact his contract.

Maybe he didn’t realize how much damage this could do.

Kurt really should give him the benefit of the doubt … and he will.

For now.

Kurt leans forward and kisses Blaine on the cheek. “Give me a minute. Okay?”

Blaine nods in response.

Kurt stands and heads for the bathroom. He soaks a clean washcloth in warm water and grabs a bottle of body wash from Blaine’s shelf. When he returns, Blaine doesn’t seem any better, hunched so far over, his forehead is almost resting on his right knee. Kurt has only seen him this withdrawn a handful of times, none of which Kurt wants to remember.

He stands in front of Blaine, blocking his view of the mirror.

“Stand up, honey.”

Blaine sighs, but he doesn’t move.

Kurt feels his chest squeeze. “Please, Blaine?”

Blaine takes a breath in and slowly unrolls. He stands the way Kurt asks, but he doesn’t drop his arms. Standing upright, Kurt sees more x’s and more circles, but he suspects that the worst of them are hiding somewhere beneath Blaine’s arms.

Kurt puts a gentle hand where they cross and pushes down, doing his best not to react as they fall away.

Seeing them, though, makes Kurt want to scream. He’s definitely going to make some phone calls come Monday morning.

Whoever was in charge of the Sharpie went to town on Blaine’s stomach - circles overlapping circles with x’s and dashes in between. The ink is smeared, having bled onto the palms of Blaine’s hands as he covered himself. Kurt looks at Blaine’s face, but his head is bowed, his eyes closed, a single tear threatening to break from the corner.

“I don’t know who the hell those people think they are, but these are not problem areas,” Kurt says, wiping at the marks with the cleanser and the cloth. The marks begin to fade, but they don’t go away easily. They were meant to make an impression, to bother Blaine enough that he’d force himself to change. “In fact, these areas are some of what I love most about your body.”

Blaine scoffs. “How can you say that?”

“How can you not see it?” Kurt says with a soft, comforting laugh. “For example, there’s nothing wrong with your shoulders.” Kurt scrubs at dashes drawn on Blaine’s traps. “They’re just perfect for squeezing. Your biceps are so well-defined, and your back is exceptional. It makes me jealous.” Kurt inches in, lips hovering beside Blaine’s ear. “And when we make love, what do I grab to pull you closer? Hmm?” Kurt’s hands caress Blaine’s hips. The light touch makes Blaine jump, but he doesn’t pull away. “They call these love handles for a reason, but there’s barely anything there. And here.” Kurt plants his hands on Blaine’s ass, making him yelp. “Your gorgeous behind. If you lost an inch off of this, I’d mourn it forever.”

“You have to think that way,” Blaine mutters. “You’re my husband.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I hate it when you say that, but okay. Let’s talk about you then.”

“What about me?”

“Before you left our loft today, did you think you were fat?”

“N-no.”

“Earlier this morning, when I had you in my mouth, were you concerned about how your thighs looked?”

A red stain blooms on Blaine’s cheeks, but his expression doesn’t change. “No.”

“And last night, when we were talking and laughing and making love, did the thought that you had some miniscule amount of back fat ever leap into your mind?”

“No.”

“No. And not that it apparently matters because I’m only your husband, but it wasn’t in my mind, either.” Kurt smiles, showing that he’s kidding, but it doesn’t budge Blaine’s mouth an inch. “You’re perfect, Blaine. Just the way you are. And you were happy with yourself a few short hours ago. I know you’ve had trouble with your weight before, but you’re back on track. And you’ve worked so hard to get here. Don’t let some random stranger take that away.” Kurt continues scrubbing, going back over areas where the black marker is being the most stubborn. “If you do want to change something about yourself, do it for you, because there’s something that you want to change. But if you go on some crazy binge, exercising and losing weight, because a woman you’ve never met before tells you that you have problem areas, you are going to make yourself miserable. And then what? Her opinion’s not everyone’s opinion. Maybe her definition of perfect looks awful to everyone else, and then where would you be? The only person whose opinion of your body matters is you, Blaine. No one else.”

“Well, you, too,” Blaine offers. “I want you to think I’m handsome.”

“Then consider that job done,” Kurt says, dropping a kiss on Blaine’s forehead, “because I’ve thought you were handsome from the moment we met, and I’ve never stopped.”

“You’re right,” Blaine concedes. “I know you’re right. It was just a bit of a slap in the face to hear what they had to say.”

“If you really want to be a model, come with me down to Vogue where everyone knows you and loves you. Isabelle’s got contacts that I know for a fact she’d threaten with complete fashion world blacklisting if they ever pulled a trick like this on you.”

“Deal” – Blaine shuffles forward, standing nose to nose with Kurt, forcing Kurt to loop his arms around his waist – “but I don’t want to be a model. And not because of what happened today. It seems so stressful, exercising three times a day, counting every calorie you put in your mouth. It doesn’t sound like it’d be fun unless it’s what you really want to do with your life.”

“Good,” Kurt says. “I already have to deal with people drooling over you at NYADA. I don’t know how I would handle the whole world falling in love with you. Though, you know, it’s only a matter of time …”

Blaine tilts his head, a subconscious smile lifting his lips. “A matter of time before what?”

Kurt kisses him on the nose, matches his smile. “Before the whole world falls in love with you.”

Blaine chuckles, bashful eyes dropping to Kurt’s collar. “Do you really believe that?”

“Blaine” – Kurt wraps his arms completely around Blaine’s torso and hugs him, not caring one iota when soapy water starts seeping through his shirt – “I always have.”

#klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #klaine #frankie writes #blangst

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wordsofawitheringwriter · 8 years ago

Text

The Key That Binds Us

Summary: Earth Land is dying. The Erlking are rising. At the height of the war, an unconscious and dying Natsu is unknowingly thrust into a celestial portal by his friends in a last-ditch effort to save him. It'll take an old lighter and the remains of a rusted key to get him home, but with his travel cost him his memories. How does one get home when they don't know they're missing? Nalu

Prologue, Part I, Part II

Part I: The Beginning

The heat had always bothered him.

Natsu went up for a layup, already beginning to feel that he was sweating through his cutoff tee. His shoes were rubbing blisters where his socks were rubbing thin.

Ever since he could remember, he'd never been one to handle warmer temperatures.

He kept his weight light, shifting from one foot to the other to prevent the soles of his sneakers from melting to the blacktop as he caught the ball that slid smoothly through the torn net. Around him it was quiet; the school playground behind his house empty for the summer months. The air was dry with not a cloud in the sky to soften the sun's rays.

Just one glance at the scar on his upper left arm and you would know that he and fire had never mixed.

Drops of sweat began to collect at the top of his brow and at the base of his neck, causing the hair there to stick to his skin as he raised off the ground to attempt a three. The ball bounced once, twice, three times on the pavement after knicking the rim.

His palms slapped his knees as he doubled over to catch his breath. From the corner of his eye he could see the ball roll until coming to a soft stop at the edge of grass that bordered the asphalt. Natsu took in a deep breath through his nose, held it, then let it out in a heavy, drawn out sigh.

The heat had always bothered him.

He straightened up and crossed the court to where he left his bag on the wooden bench beneath a large oak. Igneel had nagged him enough over the years to where he never forgot to bring a bottle of water with him, and as he rummaged for it, he felt his phone go off and illuminate the inside of his bag.

The text was from Gray: where the hell are you?

Natsu checked the time and cursed. He was going to make them late for work.

Sorry, he typed. At the court. Lost track of time. On way.

He threw the straps of his bag over one shoulder and sprinted toward the tree line that separated his house from the playground, scooping up the ball as he went.

Waiting for him in the driveway was Gray, his Jeep running. Natsu hurried into the house just long enough to grab his work boots and drop his bag on his bed before finding himself out the door again.

"We're driving there with the windows down," Gray said as Natsu's seatbelt clicked into place. "You reek."

"Can it and drive," Natsu replied, flipping him a lazy bird, "or I'll tell Igneel you decline his next batch."

Gray mumbled a curse as he jerked them in a hard reverse out of the driveway. "Damn that man and his spicy jerky."

Natsu wrinkled his nose as they flew down the road, the trees soon giving way to the interstate. He and Gray were working a summer job with a landscaping company that took them anywhere from down the street to several counties over. The current project had them working roughly an hour down the main highway where a quarry had once been, before the water was removed and the land graded over so that they could be contracted. Several years had passed in the time it took for everything to be approved, however, so some people had used the downtime as a place to throw their trash. It was a work in progress for sure, but the job paid well and the hours were decent. The only downside was the occasional long commute, in which he and Gray would carpool to save on gas.

"I don't know how you guys can eat that stuff," Natsu shuddered. "It's like eating straight fire."

Gray snorted. "Like you would know what that's like."

"Excuse me for not wanting my tongue to taste like charcoal."

His friend had merely rolled his eyes and flipped on the blinker, coasting over into the fast lane to make up for lost time. The rest of the ride consisted of Natsu playing with the radio and Gray complaining about the stations he chose, and Natsu staring out the window to keep from getting carsick.

He stuck his arm out to feel the air at one point when traffic landed them in a near standstill. Clouds had gathered and Natsu wondered if he was only imagining the static charge in the air while Gray cursed their bad luck.

A storm was coming.

Natsu's foster dad was a worrier. He hovered, was constantly checking and rechecking the expiration dates of everything in the fridge, and would text Gray asking if they had made it places when Natsu would forget or leave him on read.

It wasn't really his fault. Natsu couldn't remember much about the years of his life before coming to live with Igneel, but he knew the mother hen act was a result of hearing about the accident that had led Natsu to his front door.

That aside, Igneel seemed to have no problem allowing his son to spend hours outdoors under the sun doing hard labor.

"It does a young man well to get out there," he'd say. "Put some hair on your chest. Rough up those hands. Some hair on your b-" but by this point, he would normally be cut off by Natsu chucking the nearest object at his old man's head.

Now, looking up at the pale sky with its overlapping clouds that billowed out into deeper patches of gray, he could at least be thankful that the sun was no longer beating down on him.

But with dirt caked under his nails and the rough handle of a cheap shovel rubbing against torn callouses and open blisters through his gloves, that was about as far as his thanks would go.

The boy digging beside him grunted, shoving the head of his shovel into the dirt so that it stood upright; as good a stopping point as any. He was taller than Natsu and a few years older, if he wasn't mistaken. His hair was ruddy and flew in different directions, and his glasses always sat awkwardly on his crooked nose that had been broken at one time but never set properly. "I'm off to take my break," he nodded to Natsu. "You coming?" Lewis was his name.

Natsu waved him on ahead and continued his work, praying for rain so they could all be dismissed for the day. Even then, however, he doubted that he'd be so lucky. Boss was a decent guy who paid his workers fair, but he was also a man who liked to exceed any and all expectations. If he promised a client that a job would be done in a week's time, then by golly it would be done in half that. He was like Igneel; he thought the work was honest and built character and was not a leading cause of scoliosis.

Natsu was distracted from his thoughts when his shovel hit something that made a ting and most certainly wasn't dirt. He mumbled a curse when the action jolted his bones after all his weight fell on whatever it was that some moron had planted there.

He huffed and tossed the shovel to the side, dropping to his hands and knees to brush the dirt away.

The first drops of rain began to fall as he unearthed the brass box that was tarnished from years spent beneath the soil. It wasn't large, just barely larger than his palm. He turned it over in his hands a few times and heard the contents shift around beneath the lid, but he soon discovered that opening it was futile at the moment. It was sealed tight.

He brushed some of the loose dirt aside to get a better look at the detailed etching. The carefully crafted indentions were packed with dirt and made it difficult to make out, but he ran his thumb along the design and had the strange sensation that it should feel familiar.

A crack of thunder clapped overhead. Natsu faintly registered the sounds of different conversations around him as others left their posts to seek shelter, but he remained on his knees by the small hole he'd created that had housed the small box. He sat, lost in thought as he grazed his thumb over the etching. The rain was slowly turning the dirt into mud that was easier to wipe away with the heel of his hand and the hem of his shirt.

He squinted at the faint lines, trying to figure out what it was supposed to be. It held a small resemblance to a type of bird, but he was at a loss as to what kind it could be. It certainly looked unlike any bird Natsu had ever seen.

"Natsu! Come on, man!" He was suddenly yanked to his feet by the collar of his shirt and dragged to the overhang where the rest of the guys were taking their breaks and cracking open lunch sacks.

"What the hell, dude?" Gray panted, and only now that he was out of the rain did Natsu feel wet. Soaked, actually. His bones were being washed clean by the rain water as he stood there shivering with the box safe in his hand. Gray had yet to notice it; too preoccupied with his friend's impression of a lighting rod, but Lewis did.

"Yo," the older boy said, raising to his feet. He tried to adjust his glasses, but they remained off-centered. "What's that in your hand?"

"I found it," Natsu replied. "Right after you left."

Someone that Natsu had never spoken to before asked, "Well? What's in it?"

"It's probably his time capsule," his buddy retorted, elbowing his friend in the ribs as the two cackled.

"I don't know yet," Natsu responded, ignoring the two strangers. "Doesn't open."

Lewis grinned, his canines sharp. "Everything with a seal can be opened, my friend."

Someone snatched the box from his hands before Natsu could decipher the boy's words.

"Give it back," Natsu growled, lunging for the man who had made the joke at his expense and was more than a few years Natsu's senior.

"We'll give it back," he chortled, "just as soon as we find out what's in it." He tutted at the sight of Natsu's balled fists. "You wouldn't want to keep all the treasures for yourself, now, would ya?"

"Yes," Natsu replied simply.

The man threw his head back and laughed as though it was the funniest joke he'd ever heard.

"Rimmer!" he yelled, cupping the side of his mouth with a large, meaty hand so that Natsu could see fat fingers and several scars etched into the sun-stained skin. "Get your tools so we can crack this baby open!"

Thunder drowned out the cheers of the men involved while Gray put a hand on Natsu's shoulder to keep him from following.

"Dude, what's it matter? It's just a box with a weird-looking logo. The old bastards probably won't find anything inside other than a kid's old trading card collection."

"I found it," Natsu said. "It's mine." It was more than that, though, and Natsu could tell he was doing a poor job of convincing Gray otherwise. Maybe it was nothing more than morbid curiosity, but Natsu did want to know what was inside the box. He just didn't want everyone else knowing too.

Lewis clapped a hand on his other shoulder, his eyes following the small crowd that was convening around an old picnic table that sat in the far corner of the overhang. His expression was odd, unlike any that Natsu had ever seen come across the boy's features in the weeks they'd been working together.

"Lewis?"

But the older boy merely shot him a smirk and tapped the temples of his glasses before slinking off to join the others.

Gray and Natsu stared after him.

Natsu cocked his head to the side. "Am I wrong for thinking he's a little weird?"

"Probably leftover from whatever happened to his nose. No one can get hit that hard in the head and not be left a little scrambled."

"Nice guy though."

"Oh, totally. Lent me his pair of gloves once."

"Did you use them?"

"Gross, no. If I ever feel like sharing sweat I'll borrow something from your gym bag."

Natsu gave his friend an affronted look, followed by a deadpan, "Gross."

Gray shot him the finger before moving to stand at the edge of the concrete slab they were all gathered on, looking up at the clouds. "Looks like they're rolling out. Storm should be over soon, but the ground will be too soft to get any work done. We're probably done for the day once this lets up."

"Want me to drive home?"

"The day I let you drive my baby is the day you spit fire."

Natsu, having already known the answer, merely shrugged. "Figured I'd offer."

They found a spot nearby where no one was sitting because the wind had blown a little rain in that soaked the concrete, but it was nothing detrimental. They'd left their lunches in the back of Gray's Jeep, so they didn't have much to do other than look around. There was a small commotion breaking out on the other side of the overhang where everyone was waiting to see what was inside his box, but Natsu didn't have the heart to check it out.

"So," Gray said, picking at a callous. "You gonna tell me what's so important about this box that you were ready to throw hands with Wick?"

"You wouldn't of had to jump in."

Gray snorted, "Of course I would've jumped in. I'd just like a heads up when you feel like you're about to be a dumbass. I feel like it's common courtesy."

Natsu scratched at his arm to keep his hands busy. "I dunno, man. I know it's probably just a piece of junk, but…" he trailed off. He couldn't find the words to convey the feeling of familiarity he'd had when he first saw the symbol, not in a way that his friend would understand. Hell, Natsu didn't understand it. Why should he expect Gray to?

"Well, forget them. They can keep the trash inside if that's what they really-"

But Gray was cut off as the commotion on the other side of the overhang was quickly turning into the uproar of a mob. Men were surging forward with their hands raised over their heads as they scrambled for something that neither boy could make out from their sitting position. They both shot to their feet just as something broke the link and sprinted in their direction, the figure's glasses skewed to the side of his bleeding, re-broken nose.

"Lewis?" Natsu asked, but the boy didn't answer immediately. He shoved something hard into Natsu's chest and grinned, the look almost made maniacal by the trail of blood along his hairline and the ambiance of the storm around them.

"It was my fault that everyone noticed the box to begin with," he offered his hurried explanation. "Figured it was only fair if I got it back for you. Now go!" He ushered both boys out into the rain and towards the parking lot. "They still think I have it. I can buy you a little time."

"It's just a damn box!" Gray yelled, but sprinted after Natsu while fumbling in his pocket for his keys.

Natsu jerked the handle and clambered inside as Gray stuffed the key into the ignition and brought the roaring engine to life.

"You're more trouble than you're worth," he groaned, once again yanking them into a hard reverse as the tires spun on the loose gravel before finding purpose.

"Remind me to thank Lewis."

"I'll do that," Gray said, rolling his eyes. "On the card, be sure to include the part where he lent me those gloves. I'm sure he'll love reading it from the hospital bed those jackasses are going to put him in over this."

Natsu pressed his nose against the window to try and make out the crowd in the dense rain, but they still stood in the cover of the overhang, not a redhead in sight.

Natsu flipped on his lamp, illuminating his room and dousing the wooden tabletop in a hazy orange glow that warmed his skin. Mindful of newly applied bandaids on his fingers, he wiped once at his tired eyes and pulled out the top drawer where he'd stuffed the box when he first got home, before Igneel could call him down for dinner and turn it into a game of Twenty Questions.

While he was still nowhere near thankful to the assholes who had knicked it from him earlier that day, at least they had broken the seal. The way the dirt was still caked around the hinges led him to believe that Lewis had retrieved it before they could open it, which would explain the mob mentality.

Curiosity killed the cat, temptation brought it back, and God be with Lewis should those assholes decide for a little retribution come tomorrow at work.

He took a deep breath, wiped his hands on his flannel pajama bottoms in an attempt to stall, and then braced his fingers on either side of the metal.

#nalu #fairy tail #lucy dragneel/natsu heartfilia #<3

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