#maybe we can pretend i was just continuing the line from where it left off in the previous gif

[lonelier-version-of-you]

Remember New Year’s 2022, when like right after midnight the Holby Twitter posted a Henruss clip? Those were good times.

[bring-forth-his-sac]

maybe some fluff and smut w negan where reader has scars/self harm scars and reader is like looking at them thinking about the past and negan cheers her up😋 also he’s like aggresive in bed but is sweet outside all that. also maybe some aftercare included too

thank you so so much for requesting (and for your patience!) I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Post Whisperer War Negan x f!reader

Tags: mentions of self harm, mentions of suicidal thoughts, cunnilingus, rough sex, pet names, swearing, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.5k

The voices around you blend into a monotonous rhythm. At this point in the community meeting, they shouldn’t be surprised people are beginning to zone out as they rehash the same talking points over and over again. 

You try to force yourself to focus but it’s a losing battle. The gist of it, as Negan so eloquently said to you the other day is “At this rate, the only thing that’ll be on the menu is regret, served with a big glass of desperation… but hey, if we gotta start cannibalising each other, I have no problem eating you out”. 

That last part earned him a scoff and quick slap to the arm.

Gathering in the heart of what was once the thriving community of Alexandria, the aftermath of the Whisperer's rampage is visible everywhere. Ruined homes, scattered debris of what was once vibrant greenhouses and the scarcity of resources cast a shadow of uncertainty over everyone.

“Gabriel is already working on the vegetable patches,” Rosita takes over “but we need food. Now. So I say we raid the old military base not too far from here. We can round some people up and scavenge through there in a few days time. Daryl’s out there now, seeing if it’s worth it”.

You sit quietly on the porch steps to one of the only houses left habitable, staring down at the scars that map your hands and lead up one of your forearms.

It’s been a while since you’ve truly stopped and studied each one, every line acting as a reminder of a time when pain felt like the only answer. 

You trace the lines with your fingertips, the blurry memories of these desperate moments slowly coming back to you. Back then, it was a release and the only way to stop the chaos swirling inside your mind. You remember the fleeting relief that followed, how it dulled the aching inside, if only for a moment. 

In a twisted way, it’s quite funny. You’ve fought so hard to stay alive since the dead began to rise and yet you would still do this, still hurt yourself.

How ironic.

You let out a small sigh, shifting your gaze up to watch Rosita again and pretend like you’re listening. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve self harmed or even had those thoughts. It feels dangerous to think about though, as if thinking back to those memories is like walking a tightrope of temptation. 

“If you’re interested in going to the military base, talk to me or Carol about it,” Rosita begins to finally wrap up the meeting “if not, then go speak to Gabriel or Aaron about helping with the rebuild. We gotta all work on this, no slacking. That’s the only way Alexandria can survive”. You nod vaguely to her words and thankfully, the meeting ends. 

As everyone disperses, you stay seated on the porch steps. Your mind feels foggy as it struggles to fully return to the present moment.

Thoughts of the past continue to tug at your consciousness, lingering like a bad smell. A sigh escapes your lips as you run a hand down your face, your eyes immediately going back to the scars that litter your arm. 

“You buffering or something?” The question completely catches you off guard, the deep voice coming from behind you. 

You already know who it is, of course you do, especially since you’re one of the only people he ever approaches— mainly because he knows you won’t tell him to fuck off… without good reason.

“I can’t just sit and enjoy the view?” you bat back, your prior feelings instantly getting masked with a facade of sass. 

Negan leaves the safety of the doorway now that it’s just the two of you. He grunts softly as he sits beside you, looking out at the remains of Alexandria.

 “... what view?” he asks dryly.

You roll your eyes. “Jackass” you curse him playfully.

He watches you out of the corner of his eye for a few moments, silently debating how to go about this. “You catch everything that was said in the meeting?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

Negan doesn’t exactly understand why but he always finds himself drifting over to you, his gaze flickering between you and whatever he’s supposed to be paying attention to. And the past few minutes of the meeting has been a very obvious case of depressive daydreaming, something he’s seen you slip into every once in a while.

“Hm? Yeah,” you shrug casually, glancing over at him.

He waits, wondering if you’ll crack and open up on your own. When you don’t, he tries again.

“You got notes written out on the lines on your arm?” Negan gestures to your scars, being as blunt as possible about it. 

Automatically covering your arm with your other hand, you shoot him a glare. Negan has always somehow toed the line, knowing how direct he can be without upsetting you too much. 

He doesn't push; he simply tests the waters before backing down and letting you take the lead. Negan quickly put his hands up in surrender. He knew there was no easy way of mentioning your scars but the sooner he addresses it, the sooner you’ll talk. 

He’s expecting a slap or to be cussed out for mentioning it but instead, you stand and march into the house.

It’s your natural reaction to flee the second someone mentions your scars, something you’ve done even when others simply looked in the direction of your arm.

He groans out your name, instantly standing to follow. “Don’t just walk off,” he follows you inside, silently thankful that the house is empty, everyone else out working for the day “you know I didn’t mean it like that… well, you know I didn’t mean to offend ya”.

You pause, debating with yourself on what to do. You opt to look down at the floor, unsure how to feel about the sudden confrontation.

"Listen, I get it. I saw ya eyeballin’ your arm for half the meeting and not to get all mushy and shit, but those scars don’t define you” Negan's expression shifts, giving way to something more sincere. He steps closer, his tone dropping to a softer register.

“They’re not a mark of weakness or worthlessness or whatever bullshit you tell yourself. They show you survived. You’ve got grit and I admire that more than anything.” He reaches out, gently grasping your chin to tilt your face toward his.

Despite every inch of you wanting to run again, you look up. The warmth in his eyes is undeniable and as much as you want to sink further into your defences, you can feel them slowly melt away.

You've always been a fortress in life, sturdy and unyielding. Every brick laid was a lesson learned, or another wound healed. 

You've perfected the art of keeping people at arm's length, never letting them see the cracks that run beneath the surface. In today’s world, vulnerability feels like a foreign language and one you've continuously avoided speaking.

“And if you ever need to remind yourself just how strong you are,” Negan continues, dropping his hand back down to his side “I’m right here, darlin’” 

You smile at his valiant offer and before you can stop it, you slowly open up “I just… sometimes, even when I don’t want to do those things again, I still think back to it. It’s like I’m reminiscing… and it can be hard to decipher whether my brain is thinking back because I want to be back there again or because I’m relieved I’m not…”. 

You brace for the impact, scanning for the possible retreat in Negan’s eyes but instead, you see nothing but understanding.

“You don’t think I feel like that now that I’m a supposed free man?” He asks softly “Even now, there’s still days —usually when I get the hundredth dose of stink eye thrown towards me— that I wonder if I’d be better off disappearing back into that cage. Even though I fuckin’ hated being in there!”. 

A strange sensation almost overwhelms you. The tension in your shoulders strangely ease and for the first time in ages, you're both not just survivors forced to endure; you're simply you and Negan is simply Negan.

Both of you flawed, real, and human. In his presence, vulnerability seems like less of a burden and more of a shared strength.

The air crackles with unspoken words and electric energy. You can almost taste the bittersweet mix of apprehension and desire. It's suffocating and you know you need an escape… but not by running away. 

As you look into his eyes, something shifts within you. The world outside fades and all that matters is in this room. Right now, you want to cast aside any doubts and just embrace the thrill. 

In a quick move, you step closer to him, invading his personal space. The sombre glint in Negan’s eyes transforms into something deeper.

Without thinking, you reach for him, fingers brushing against his arm and igniting a spark that sends a shiver through you both. Surprise flickers past his face before that signature grin breaks through, wide and knowing. 

You lean in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “This has all been… a lot…” you begin, unsure how exactly you’re about to say this “and I think… I think I might just need—“

Negan doesn’t give you time to finish that sentence, your urge towards him telling him all he needs to know.

In one swift motion, he pulls you flush against him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that ignites a wildfire of emotion. It’s a blend of urgency and tenderness, a collision of passion that leaves you breathless. 

It’s dizzying, the way he makes you feel seen, even if it’s just for this heartbeat in time. You let yourself be swept away, surrendering to the connection that pulls you both together.

“Oh I know exactly what you need“ Negan mutters against your lips.

You pull him into another bruising kiss before egging him on further “Then show me”.

That’s all Negan needs, your request allowing him to let loose. Capturing your lips in another kiss, he slowly begins moving forward, forcing you back until you hit against a table. He grabs your waist and lifts you up onto it, his hands immediately going for the zip of your pants.

He kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. “You just sit back,” he instructs, pleased as you lift your hips and let him tug down your jeans, not stopping until they’re on the floor beside him “let me take care of everything, baby”.

In an instant, Negan is kneeling between your thighs, pressing soft kisses along both legs. You can feel the warmth gather at your core, immediately wanting to welcome every inch of him.

“Ready to turn off your brain for a bit? Hmm?” Looking up at you through his eyelashes, Negan places a gentle kiss on your clothed pussy. 

He tries not to smirk as he feels your pussy pulsing desperately for him. Letting out a whimper, you nod.

“Ah ah ah,” Negan tuts, his tone as soft as it can be despite his scolding words “you made me wait a long fuckin’ time to show you a good time, you damn well know I’m not going to dig in until I hear you say it”. 

“Fuck– Negan, yes,” you say breathlessly, glancing at the door as you do “please, I want you”. Even with how exposed you are, your mind is too hazy to care about the possibility of someone walking in. All your attention is on Negan’s breath that’s only a mere few centimetres away from your soaked pussy.

Kissing you through your panties again, Negan hooks a finger around the fabric and slowly pulls it to the side, carefully revealing his gift.

Without a second thought, he buries his face between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips firmly to keep you from squirming away. 

You gasp loudly, not expecting so much contact so quickly. You bite your lip to quieten your moans but it’s no use.

He looks up at you with his mouth full of your pussy, his eyes gleaming with desire. He sucks harder, his tongue flicking rapidly against your clit. 

He releases his hands from your hips to rub your ass, pulling you against his face. Mumbling against your most sensitive area, a shiver runs up your spine as he compliments “Mmm, best fuckin’ meal I’ve had in years.”

Your legs quiver as you get closer to the edge, your core helplessly clenching around nothing as he eats you out. He’s determined, you’ll give him that. And the one thing Negan wants now more than anything is to taste your release on his tongue.  

“Come for me, doll” he growls encouraging, his stubble scratching your inner thighs. 

With a series of whines and moans for more, you let go.

He keeps his face between your thighs, lapping up your essence as you come undone. Negan waits until you've stopped convulsing before he lifts his head up, wiping your gleaming juices away from his mouth with the back of his hand.

He grins up at you, happy with his work. “Well, you wanted me…” he trails off purposefully, taking a moment to plant a kiss on your leg before giving a slight tug at your panties that are still pushed out of the way “so now you’re gonna get me”.

Negan hurriedly unbuckles his pants as he stands, freeing his hard cock and giving himself a few strokes, precum already dripping from the tip. Working in tandem, you yank down your panties and drop them next to your jeans. 

Before your panties have time to hit the floor, Negan’s kissing you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist, both of you as impatient at the other.

“This what you wanted, huh?” Negan continues to talk, rubbing the head of his cock against your slick entrance, “this the distraction you were looking for?”.

You speak only in moans, going wild at the sensation of his cock being so close to your centre and yet still so far away from actually being inside of you. 

He cups your chin, making you maintain eye contact as he presses you for an answer “I can’t hear you, sweetness”.

“Please, just do it” you pant, still not over your initial high.

He grins wider at your compliance and slowly pushes into you, his eyes locked onto yours. Your body tenses as he stretches you out in a way that borders on painful. “Negan,” his name leaves your mouth as a haggard breath.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart, you know you’re ready for it, you can take it” he coos, pushing all the way in before he stops to give you time to adjust.

He groans as he fully sheaths himself inside you, his hips flush against yours. Attempting to be a gentleman, Negan starts slow.

His eyes leave yours, watching as he gradually pulls out. He grunts satisfactorily, filling you to the hilt again. 

“Please,” you whimper “don’t tease”.

Negan chuckles, though his restraint is weakening “Patience is a virtue, darlin’”.

You tilt your head back, the slow force of Negan inside of you making your brain melt. All you want is already inside of you but it’s not enough. This isn’t a time for sweet love making. 

You want to be fucked, plain and simple.

“Yeah and you’re a vice so fuck me already,” you nudge the heel your foot against his ass, trying to make him speed up. Negan smirks again, his ego adoring your words.

The table creaks under you when he picks up the pace, the wet sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the room. 

"You can take it, can’t you? Fuck yeah, I know you can" He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he continues to pound into you. 

You nod desperately, wanting to prove to him that you can take all he’s got to give. He hooks his arms under your knees, spreading you wider and increasing his depth.

His movements become harder and faster, making sure you can feel every inch of him. You yearn it, trying desperately to shimmy your hips on the table to meet each thrust.

Negan pistons into you like a man on a mission, burying his face in by your neck as his hands frantically begin to explore your body. Negan knows he won’t last much longer, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take this opportunity to finally see your tits. 

His hands push up your shirt, hiking it up in a hurry as your bra comes into view. “Wanna introduce me to the girls?” He suggests, his breath coming out in hot pants against your neck.

At this moment, you want everything just as much as he does. Reaching down, you lift up your bra just enough for your breasts to come free.

Even though there’s no rush, it feels as though you don’t have the time to take off your bra properly, feeling that coil tighten in your lower stomach.

His eyes drop to your chest, and he licks his lips hungrily. “Goddamn, just when I thought you couldn’t get any better” Negan cups your breasts roughly, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he continues to fuck into you. He leans down and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

“Oh my fucking—” you groan out, interupting yourself with another moan. You grip the edge of the table enough to turn your knuckles white, your whole body feeling overwhelmed.

He releases your nipple with a wet pop and straightens up, his thumb trailing down to your swollen clit.

“C’mon darlin’, I need to feel ya clench around me,” Negan slams into you, his rhythm erratic as he nears his own release “one more time, baby, come for me”. 

Your body convulses as it hits you. Gasps morph into a wave of quick, sharp pants as you clutch Negan any way you can. Feeling your pussy clamp down on his shaft, Negan’s hips sputter to a stop as the contractions send him over the edge with you.

It takes all of Negan’s willpower not to stay exactly how he is; with his dick buried deep inside of you. 

But he knows better and quickly pulls out, releasing his load onto your inner thigh instead. He has to nuzzle his face in by your neck, silencing himself the best he can. The last thing either of you need is Negan to get loud and attract people from outside.

The sound of your mixed breaths fill the room as you both come back to your senses. You look down at the mess on your thigh, wondering how much longer you both have until someone comes looking for one of you. 

“You know what?” Negan breaks the silence, a sheen of sweat across his forehead as he moves to look at you “I think I like it when you open up”. He nudges your legs, a deep chuckling escaping him.

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes “and get me a towel or something”. He licks his lips, his mind already wondering what your next session will be like, subtly noting how much he likes hearing you order him around. 

He nods “Yes ma’am”.

Leaning down, Negan searches the back pockets of his pants before pulling out a small handkerchief.

“Now,” he announces as he gently wipes his cum off of your thigh “my cum rag can become ours”.

“Negan!” You exclaim, your hands busy yanking your bra and shirt back down to push the rag away from you “Don’t use your dirty cum rag on me!!”. 

Negan chuckles, his smile alone keeping your annoyance at bay. “I’m just fucking with ya, it ain’t a cum rag,” he wipes the last drop of himself off your leg “but now that we’ve christened it as a cum rag, I guess that means we'll have to use it again”. 

Negan winks as if you don’t get the obvious insinuation and before you can object, he kisses you. You’re quick to reciprocate, knowing that there’s no way you’d turn down an opportunity like this again.

A faint smirk graces his face as Negan pulls back, pleased with the fact that you returned his kiss.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Negan clears his throat “But seriously, next time you need to talk to somebody, or open up them legs, I’m your man”. 

You smile at the sincerity of his words, knowing he’s completely and utterly serious about both offers. 

Thinking for a moment, you agree “I will”. 

He holds up his pinky “Promise? And then I’ll help you into your jeans?”. 

You scoff as if he’s inconveniencing you by making you a pinky promise but you both know you appreciate the gesture. Lifting your pinky up to his, they hook together.

“Promise”.

And with that, Negan steals one more kiss before helping you back into your jeans.

[obbystars]

Encounter Nihilism

Synopsis: “Just because they don’t have any eyes doesn’t mean they don’t have other senses. Come on, you should know that by now.” Z-13 (Sebastian Solace)

Notes: Not exactly a Sebastian Solace x Reader fic but you can read it as such / read When Light Fades before reading this / Reader deaths, nothing too angsty though / Sebastian being an asshole (and we love him for it) / Experimental deaths + cutting off limbs / Brief angst at the end / may be a tad bit shorter than my usual (it bothers me)

Credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

(Is it obvious this is self indulgent? I really love When Light Fades, super proud of it. I haven’t decided if I’m gonna take this concept and use it for an OC yet, but oh boy, it’s getting strong. Anyway, this fic’s meant to explore more on the reader featured in When Light Fades while also continuing to experiment with Sebastian’s character.)

As you swam to the next door, you hear strange noises coming from the other side. It’s not the Good People, they can’t come into the flooded rooms. It doesn’t sound like an angler either. You continued forward and the next door slid open. Your eyes widened at the sight of the creature on the other side as it looked at you.

Panicked, you try to climb into a locker. You don’t make it in time as you feel its tentacles wrap around your head to crush your diving mask, but that isn’t what kills you. The creature manages to trick the operator behind the PDG by attempting to remove it, causing immediate detonation.

You woke up with a gasp in an all too familiar room.

“I heard that,” Sebastian leans on his hand as his lure flickers on, “What’d you run into this time… Ah,”

You looked down as he slides over the document. An image of the creature you encountered is shown and beside it was another photo that was redacted. Maybe in another death you’ll see what that other photo is.

Nihilism was the codename Urbanshade had given it. A lot of the text within the first page was left redacted, and only a few lines were on the second page were visible.

“If by chance any operative encounters Z-8 within any flooded rooms, it is advised to remain still and turn off any light source currently in possession. Wait for Z-8 to pass.”

That was the only line you were able to read. Sebastian begins to tap his finger against the desk. You sit back and he takes that as the signal you’re done, but it’s not like you read much anyway.

He sighs as he closes the document, “Think of if as Red Light, Green Light. Surely you’ve played that game before,”

“Ugh, this feels worse than Pandemonium…” you groaned, leaning on the table.

“Pretend you’re a corpse floating in the water. That should be pretty easy for you, yeah? I mean, you have died quite a lot,”

“Screw you…”

Upon your next life, you find yourself in the trench tunnels about 20 doors in. It was an area in Hadal Blacksite you despised since it showed you that the anglers can attack from the front. You stepped out of the locker once the angler passed by and turned on your flashlight. There’s no squiddles in this room so you decided to look through the drawers for anything useful.

In the corner of your eye, you swear you saw something moving in the dark water. It wasn’t the Eyefestation as you didn’t see a green glow. Instead, it was Z-8. You freeze once you finally realized it, and you clicked your flashlight off. They looked like they were just passing by, but they suddenly turned to look at your general direction. Did they somehow sense you turning it off?

“Are you alive?”

You actually freeze up this time. It was a voice inside your head, but it wasn’t like Eyefestation where it tried to mimic the voice of the person in the PA. This was its own voice.

“I can sense you there,”

You start taking shallow breaths, almost resorting to holding it.

“Don’t worry. I can’t reach you. But when I do, it’s not personal,” it continues, “We’re both fighting for what we want, right? Freedom from this place?”

You try to not listen, thinking it’s only try to persuade you into meeting up with it. Maybe even striking up some sort of deal.

“I wish this wasn’t how we met, but I owe Sebastian. This is my favor to him,” its tone suddenly changes, “We can’t let you get that crystal,”

“…they owe Sebastian?” You whispered to yourself.

The Eyefestation suddenly emerges from the dark, and Z-8 swims out of her way as her eyes turned red. A new voice cried inside your head, pleading for you to look into its eyes. The next thing you knew, you were back in the room with Sebastian who stifled a laugh as he slides over the document to you. You had questions concerning what Z-8 had said, but maybe now’s not the right time to ask.

“For unknown reasons, Z-8 is somehow able to communicate with Z-317 “The Eyefestation.” Should operatives see Z-8 outside the windows, or hear its voice, DO NOT LISTEN and keep moving forward as they cannot reach you. They have already called “The Eyefestation” and are trying to keep you in the room.”

Sebastian closes the document, still trying to keep himself from laughing, “A tag-team! Who would’ve thought, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, “I can’t believe that’s how I died,”

“Like a deer in headlights,” he smirks as he leans closer, “Happens to all of us, but man, I thought you’d be used to seeing that shark considering the amount of times you looked at her,”

“She just startled me! I’d love to look at her if she wasn’t able to kill me just by making me look at her,” you shrugged, “She is a beautiful shark,”

Sebastian gives you an odd look and groans, “Get out of here already,”

“Fair enough,”

The next few deaths to Z-8 were more of trial and error. In your most recent death, you learned the hard way that Z-8 does not like the flash beacon and did not hesitate to detonate your PDG. You felt like it was a strange reaction considering it took them a moment to even react when you used any other light source.

“Got grabbed again, did ya?” Sebastian laughed.

He then slides the document to you, now revealing the entire document with some text still left redacted. Some documents contained those, such as his own, and you learned to stop caring about it. At least it wasn’t like the Multi-Monster. Previously redacted photo was now uncovered. A person whose face was obscured.

Z-8 - Codename: Nihilism. Real name: ▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇

In early 2011, five LR-Ps were selected to be a part of an experiment to achieve immortality. Out of the five selected, only Z-8 survived the first round of tests. Z-9, Z-10, Z-11, and Z-12 all succumbed to different effects as each subject was given a different dosage. Although Z-8 survived, they were not immune to the effects their dosage brought. As a result, the experiment was left on hold until researchers found a better source to reach the desired goal.

By 2013, the experiment resumed using the immortal jellyfish as originally planned along with the mimic octopus, the ▇▇▇, and ▇▇▇▇. Z-8 was used again for the next test and hasn’t experienced any side effects on the first day. Two days later, a guardsman escorting Z-8 noticed they have been stumbling and bumping into the walls. On the seventh day, Z-8 had gone completely blind. However, it has been noted that Z-8 is capable of sensing where there is light and where someone is even if they are not moving.

Z-8 soon began to struggle walking and can’t seem to have a tight grip. It didn’t take very long for them to lose all feeling in their arms and legs. They were still able to move their torso as well as their head. They were still capable of speech, but Z-8 has been refusing to talk.

Z-8 was meant to be executed due to the state they were in, but thirty minutes after their heart seemingly stopped, it soon started to beat again. They wake up an hour later as if they had just taken a nap with all of their memories still intact, but Z-8 still cannot see and still cannot walk or move their arms. This resulted in having to move Z-8’s location into a more suitable cell for testing.

Z-8 has endured 5 deaths before changes in their body started becoming clear. Shortly after, testing and studying the regenerative properties Z-8 should have began. Due to poor execution during the procedures, Z-8 ended up enduring 7 more deaths. By the 4th death, a new side effect to Z-8’s resurrection was noted. Upon death, coral (polyps) begins to form on their body.

Their body soon takes the form of a humanoid jellyfish, leading to having to relocate them again. Z-8 no longer turns to others when they are near until they shine a light. The behavior they show gives the impression they like the light and often try to follow it, sometimes moving their head or even their entire body.

Z-8 will then be used to study the regenerative properties further until it can be refined in a way that is desirable.

Before the lockdown was in effect, Z-8 was going to be sold at The Anomalous Auctions as Z-8 had been deemed of no monetary value, nor can be used for work. 5 hours into the lockdown, camera footage caught Z-13 transporting Z-8 to an unknown location.

If by chance any operative encounters Z-8 within any flooded rooms, it is advised to remain still and turn off any light source currently in possession. Wait for Z-8 to pass.

DO NOT move as Z-8 can sense you nearby, but they can’t differentiate between a corpse and a living person until you move.

Turn off any and all light sources in your possession as Z-8 can sense it and become curios. Your window to turn it off is narrow, but it’s still wide enough to not raise their suspicion.

There is a chance where operatives may find Z-8 roaming in a dark flooded room with S-Q. If the room prior has lights on, Z-8 will go into that room. It is safe to move in the dark room as Z-8 cannot tell the difference between you and the S-Q.

For unknown reasons, Z-8 is somehow able to communicate with Z-317 “The Eyefestation.” Should operatives see Z-8 outside the windows, or hear its voice, DO NOT LISTEN and keep moving forward as they cannot reach you. They have already called “The Eyefestation” and are trying to keep you in the room.

Unlike Z-13, operatives are instructed to contain Z-8 as it is impossible for the subject to stay dead.

You’re not exactly sure what to say to all of this. Sebastian is being much quieter than usual too, not even closing the document when you sat back. You look up at him, building up the courage to speak.

“So that’s what they meant when they said they owe you…”

“They don’t owe me anything,” his voice lowered into a growl, “It was their choice to stay much like that shark,”

You look down at the document again and sighed, “Kinda feels like there’s much more than that,”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

You sighed again as you stood up to leave. Sebastian watches you go and looks back down at the document, then closes it without another word.

[to-thelakes]

concussed

pairing; luke alvez x fem!reader

summary; after you are attacked by the latest unsub, luke does his best to take care of you while you suffer from a concussion.

warnings; hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, minor injury, vomiting, stubborn reader, reader is concussed, a bit of a enemies to lovers but not really enemies

notes; i wrote this thing last night, i wanted to write something angsty because i wasn't feeling great and so i found an angry confession prompt but then it sort of just spiralled away from the anger and we have this! i sat and did some research on concussions (and u can sleep while concussed contrary to popular belief) so this should be accurate-ish! i might do a part two but for now, here it is <3

ao3 / masterlist

The case was taking a toll on your team and you wanted to try and pretend that it was okay. But it wasn’t. You continued to hit dead-end, after dead-end. Your profile didn’t seem to be leading you to any plausible suspect and the killer was devolving into a spree. And as much as being unable to solve the case was bothering you, something else was.

Luke fucking Alvez.

Honestly, you got along with Luke amazingly, most of the time. You’d had a rocky start when he had helped the team with finding the fugitives. He preferred to work alone which infuriated you because you were used to working in a team. He was defensive, reluctant to work with you and just annoying. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was but everything he did made your jaw clench and you wanted to punch his stupidly handsomely angular jaw.

JJ noticed it almost immediately when he began to work with the team. She often did her best to keep the peace between you and that had led to Rossi dragging you into his office more than once to try and understand what was going on. Hotch did the same before he left and then Emily did but every time, you made it clear that you didn’t have any issues with him.

Because you didn’t. He just ticked you off and after him spending so much time with BAU, the irritation slowly began to seep away. But there was something about the way he was acting on this case that was irritating you again. It was tipping you over the edge and you were ready to hit him if he stepped out of line.

And it just got worse when Emily kept assigning you to do tasks together. You assumed she was trying to heal the rift that had suddenly formed between the two of you but if anything, it had just made it all worse. You were walking on eggshells around him and he was doing the same with you. There was no harmony, no talking. It was just two frustrated agents, doing a really bad job at doing their jobs.

You were beginning to think maybe that’s why you were finding it so hard to understand the case but then, Reid managed to figure something out. Which led to the team leading an assault into a warehouse where they believed the victim was being held. 

In the car, everybody had been quiet, only the necessary things were said. Garcia called and answered all of Reid’s questions about the location. The team coordinated with SWAT. And when you arrived, you got out and Prentiss ordered the team to take the different exits. Of course, you were paired up with Luke.

But you had to focus on the Unsub and getting the victim out safe. Which is why you did your best to ignore the ticking anger in your chest that was threatening to explode at any given moment. Luke took first position, opening the door and stepping in. He flicked his flashlight around, keeping his gun up before he nodded, giving you the all-clear to step in. 

The warehouse was filled to the brim with wooden crates and the entrance led to a two-way split-off. So, Luke nodded to one side, indicating you to take it. You nodded and stepped towards it. There was the distant sound of voices but there was no way of being able to locate where it was coming from. So, you headed down the crate corridor.

You were quick on your feet but thorough as you used your flashlight to check any blind spots. You were not going to get caught unawares by the UnSub.

But that is somehow exactly what happened, you had found yourself at a four-way crossroads and you were shining your flashlights down every path, checking them out, when suddenly, a pain reverberated through your skull and you dropped.

The next few seconds were a blur of bodies moving past you as you tried to reach out for your gun, hoping to get a shot at the UnSub. However, he had hit you harder than you had initially and your depth perception was off. You tried to reach for your gun but you couldn’t pick it up. You tried to drag yourself forward but all the strength had left you.

“Luke,” You called out weakly but you weren’t sure how loud you even were. Your world was tilting on its axis when you heard the sounds of gunfire and then you slipped into unconsciousness. 

When your eyes snapped back open, you had been propped up against one of the wooden crates. The warehouse must have been switched on and when you looked around, Luke was standing a few steps away talking with Matt, his back to you.

Your eyebrows furrowed and Matt noticed you were awake. He must have told Luke because suddenly his head had snapped to you and he looked pissed. You had never seen Luke actually angry but this was it and you were a little scared.

Your ears were still ringing, the world still a little hazy so you didn’t hear what Luke said but then Matt was gone. You used the crates to slowly push yourself to your feet and Luke rushed to your side, holding your shoulders to keep you stable.

“What happened?” He asked, keeping his anger carefully controlled beneath the surface. 

“Unsub got me. Didn’t see him coming,” You explained, leaning back against the wooden crate. Luke stepped back, confident that you wouldn’t immediately keel over again even though your eyes were unfocused, “It wasn’t like I did it on purpose,” You added, clearly being able to see the anger that was rippling at the surface.

“If you did, this would be a different conversation,” He snapped, not amused by your comment. You sighed, letting your eyes fall closed as you pressed the heel of your hand against your forehead. Your head was throbbing and you were finding it hard to think straight.

“I’m not that fucking stupid,” You snapped back at him, forcing your eyes open so that could look at him. He huffed out in annoyance, hand moving to rub at his jaw before he looked back at you.

“I know.” His voice had softened a little. Your hand returned to your head, feeling the emotional whiplash from this conversation, “You’re impossible. You should have been more careful.” His voice had morphed from anger to relative calm as he looked at you. You muttered something in response before pushing yourself off the edge of the wooden crate.

“I’m fine, It’s not like I’m dead. So, it’s fine,” You brushed off his concern as you attempted to take a step forward. But you were completely off-balance and the movement had your world tilting off axis. Luke was quick to grab your arms, stabilizing you against him.

“No,” He responded as he helped you get back to your feet, “You have a concussion so you’re gonna stay here until the medic gets here and clears you. Is that clear?” You let your eyes fall closed again, stepping back to lean against the crate.

“Yeah, whatever,” You muttered. Once Luke was sure you weren’t gonna move again, he let go of you. He turned on his heel, pacing up and down the corridor of crates. You hadn’t seen him so stressed before. It was like he couldn’t stay still and he kept looking back at you, face set into a frown. It wasn’t helping how you felt.

“Was I bleeding?” You asked after a moment. Luke looked up and the short nod of your head made you sigh. You honestly couldn’t feel the pain but you assumed that the blood had already matted your hair. Maybe the cut on your head was the reason that your head throbbed as hard as it did. Then you felt it, bile racing up your throat. In seconds, you had turned around, hand pressed against the wooden crate, “Luke, I’m-” but you didn’t get to finish your sentence before you threw up in the space between your feet and the crate.

It burned your throat as you coughed and sputtered, tears beginning to stream down your face as your fingers curled against the wooden crate. By the time that you had done puking up, your stomach was empty and tears were running down your face. Your whole body felt weak and Luke was keeping your ponytail from falling into the line of fire.

His hand was against your back, running soothing circles as you gagged a few more times before coughing. It seemed that your body was done but your head hurt even more now. The headache had gotten worse, the violent push of vomit up your throat had just made everything a million times worse. Luke gently took hold of your shoulders, pulling you back from the mess of vomit before he turned you around. He was careful, keeping your movements slow as he pulled a cloth from his pocket. He was gentle as he wiped the corners of your mouth for you and you looked up at him, tears blurring your vision. He placed the cloth on a nearby crate before he pulled you into his chest. 

The tears were burning your cheeks but his arms engulfing you brought some much-needed comfort.

“Sorry, that was, that was disgusting,” You said against his chest. You were sniffling, silent tears falling down your cheeks as your head began to pound even more.

“Medic’s here,” Matt said, startling both of you. His gaze flicked from the two of you to the pile of vomit on the floor and he quickly understood what was happening. The medic then approached the two of you and you cautiously stepped out of Luke’s hold. The medic walked you to a nearby crate and made you sit down.

She then asked what date it was, what year you were in, who was president and it made you realize that you were a little foggy on the details. Everything about your personal life was intact but the second you got out further than that, it all became a little muddy. You were able to tell her everything. You told her what year it was and what president was in office but it took you longer than you would have liked to admit.

Then she made you follow her finger but you were finding it hard. It made your eyes hurt and your head ache and then she shined the flashlight in your eyes. The dilation levels of your pupils didn’t change at all.

“You’ve got a concussion,” The medic stated and you nodded, “Do you live with anyone at home?” She asked. You shook your head.

“It’s just me,” You muttered. She sighed.

“Okay, if that’s the case, it might be best if I get you checked into the hospital. You’ll likely be fine but you need someone to be supervising you at all times in case your symptoms get worse,” She explained.

“I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself,” You tried to argue but the medic didn’t seem satisfied. She glanced at Luke and Matt who had silently watched the interaction, not sure what to make of your current state. Then she looked back at you and your head rested against the crate, eyes closed.

“Can I see your head wound?” The medic asked. Your eyes slowly reopened before you shuffled forward so she could take a look at it. You felt her push your hair around, pressing against your skull which made you seethe in pain a little. But it didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as you had expected it to, “Well, that’s good news. Your head doesn’t need stitches but I really would recommend that you stay overnight at the hospital.”

“I’ll be fine, I swear. I’ll just take it easy,” You insisted. The medic sighed and then she stepped back.

“Agents, would I be able to speak to one of you privately?” The medic asked. Luke and Matt exchanged a look before Luke gestured for the medic to follow him. Matt then walked over to you and sat down on the crate beside you.

“I think you should listen to the medic,” Matt said. You rolled your eyes before letting your eyes close again.

“I can take care of myself,” You repeated. 

“I’m sure you can but you’ve got a concussion and that means your brain isn’t functioning the same,” He stated blankly. You scoffed and huffed out. You didn’t even have the energy to open your eyes anymore. You were exhausted and you felt like you could have curled up on that crate and fallen asleep at a moment’s notice. But you didn’t, “Listen, buddy, I do not doubt that you can take care of yourself but we just want you to be safe.” Matt was approaching you like he did with his kids when they were being unreasonable. It seemed to work well on them but he wasn’t so sure about what it would mean for you.

“I’m always safe. I just wanna get home and get a glass of water, all I can taste is vomit,” You admitted. Matt nodded and he glanced over your shoulder to see Luke return from his conversation with the medic. He gestured for Matt to tell you to head out and so Matt was left with the task to coax you to your feet.

He kept a hold of you as you walked out of the warehouse and when you stepped out, the lights were still flashing red and blue. It made your head hurt and you flinched away from it. The rest of the team was talking with the PD, discussing what the best course of action was when they spotted you.

JJ and Emily were at your side in seconds and JJ took you off of Matt’s hands.

“How you feeling?” JJ asked softly. You shrugged.

“Fabulous.” The sarcasm laced your tone and they both knew it but it at least meant that you were still somewhat feeling yourself.

“Are you okay to go home?” Emily asked. You shrugged again.

“Medic told me that she would advise I go to the hospital if I don’t have anyone to look over me for the next day but I’ll be fine,” You insisted. Emily’s eyebrows furrowed and she glanced at JJ, who seemed just as concerned. Emily tried to argue back but like you had been earlier, you were set in your way. You refused to go to the hospital and when Luke came over, hearing your bickering, he only made it worse.

He explained that you had thrown up and that you were refusing to listen to anyone which only made Emily even more concerned. And somehow, in the midst of the conversation, people began to discuss whether any of them could stay with you to ensure that you were okay. You honestly began to tune the conversation out, resting against JJ’s shoulder.

Your eyes reopened again after a moment and you were looking at Luke. His arms were crossed over his chest, face set into a frown and you knew that he was mad at you. He had looked so angry and you had thrown up right in front of him. You mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ to him and he sighed.

“If you both have plans, I can watch over her. Roxy can stay with the sitter for another day,” Luke interjected. You let your eyes fall closed again. It was the first part of the conversation that you had heard and you didn’t really understand it. Emily and JJ exchanged a look before they looked back down at you.

“Are you sure?” JJ asked. Luke nodded.

“Listen, I don’t have any plans. It’ll be easier,” He said simply. You opened your eyes again to look at Emily who seemed a little worried by the proposition.

So, you decided to speak up, “He can just sleep on my couch and then, if I get attacked again, I’ve got a scary man to take them down for me.” There was an amused lilt to your tone and you met Luke’s gaze. He looked honestly a little baffled by you but he didn’t say anything against it.

“I don’t mind,” He added. You smiled and nodded, lifting your head from JJ’s shoulder. She kept a hold of you.

“Okay,” Emily agreed.

“But if something happens, you call me, okay?” JJ made Luke promise. He was quick to agree and then the four of you trudged to the rest of the team. You were quick to wrap up with the local PD and you got on the jet to head home. At some point, you fell asleep on the flight but you honestly weren’t sure when.

But when you woke up, you still felt atrocious. Your head ached with every blink of your eye and your memory was still a little fuzzy. However, you did remember that Luke was coming home with you. 

So, when he ushered you into his car, you didn’t bother to try and fight against it. You were surprised that he had even suggested that he could take care of you considering how snappy you’d been with each other but you didn’t have the brain power to question it.

Instead, you just directed him to your apartment, got him to park in your usual spot and he helped you get inside. You could at least walk on your own now but your head was killing you. The nap on the jet had done you good but you honestly didn’t feel much better. You need painkillers before you even went anywhere near your bed. And realistically, you needed a shower. You needed to get the blood out of your hair but you also didn’t have the energy to do anything.

Luke could tell that you were feeling overwhelmed and so, he just led you straight to where (he assumed) the bedroom was. He told you to get changed into pajamas but you were quick to start bitching about the blood in your hair. So, - with reluctance and under the condition that you kept the bathroom door unlocked so he could help you if something happened - he let you get a shower. 

The water relaxed your muscles and you felt cleaner without blood clumping your hair up and so when you got out, you slipped into pajamas and trudged into the living room. He had already gotten painkillers and a glass of water out ready for you and he was sat on the sofa. He seemed to constantly be on high alert.

“Thank you,” You said before you downed the pills with the water. He was quick to stand up, checking over you and you looked a lot better, “I have some spare pillows and a cover in my bedroom. So, you can at least sleep comfortably on the sofa. Can you get the ice pack out of my freezer while I do it?” You asked. He nodded and was quick to cross over to the kitchen while you went into your bedroom.

You pulled the spare sheets from the top of your wardrobe and began to put the covers over the pillows and duvet. However, the movements were making you dizzy. You were over-exerting yourself and you had to steady yourself on the edge of your bed. That was not good but you finished the job and returned to Luke.

You dropped the duvet and pillow on the sofa before you walked over to the kitchen. Luke was wrapping the ice pack in a towel just as you came up beside him. He offered it out once he was done and you placed it against where the pain was pulsating from.

“Will you be okay on the sofa?” You asked after a moment. He nodded and you sent him a smile, “Thank you for helping me. I haven’t really given you a reason to but I appreciate it,�� You explained. It was probably the most vulnerable you had been with Luke in a while and he seemed to recognise that.

“Thank you for trusting me to be here,” He said. You shrugged, adjusting the hold on the ice pack to keep it more stable, “I was worried about you. I found you in a patch of blood and I thought I had lost you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” You weren’t sure if it was the concussion or reality but there was something akin to love in the way he spoke about you. You looked at him for a moment before you let your shoulders drop.

“I should have been more careful,” You responded. He shook his head.

“You had no way of knowing he had been there.” Luke was quick to shut you down. Everything he had said was out of frustration and worry for you but he didn’t know how to explain that. He just couldn’t have you beating yourself up over it.

“I would have if I’d just been paying attention. Instead, I was thinking about you and how angry I was at you. It would have been different if my head had been in it. But it wasn’t. We were both distracted by each other,” You said. Your voice had softened and you felt like there was a weight off your shoulders now that you had admitted that to him.

“Yeah,” He said and the silence spread between the two of you for a moment before he cleared his throat. He then suggested that you both head to bed and you thought it was probably best to call it a night. You said that Luke could change in the bathroom, and get a shower if he wanted to before you headed into your bedroom.

You curled up under the covers, thoughts of Luke lingering in your mind.

-

Your eyes snapped open, sweat dripping down your back as you looked around your dark bedroom. You were half-pushed up on the bed, the paranoia from your dream lingering. You could remember someone coming at you, something had come to find you but then it went completely blank. But you were safe. Nobody was trying to get you in here and so, you settled back down on the bed. It was uncommon for you to get nightmares after particularly difficult cases but it had been a while and you felt a little shaken.

Your head wasn’t hurting as much as it had a few hours ago but you didn’t feel any better than you had earlier in the day. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you kicked the covers back. You let your eyes fall closed when you heard the bedroom door open. You tilted your head to the side and Luke popped his head in.

He was surprised to see you staring back at him and he smiled, a little awkwardly.

“Please tell me you remember your name,” He said. You chuckled softly at his words before nodding your head. You repeated your name back to him and he nodded.

“Have you been checking on me since I fell asleep?” You asked. He nodded his head and you sighed, pushing yourself to sit up.

“The medic told me to check on you every hour or so,” He explained. He then stepped into the room a little bit and you rubbed your eyes with your hands. You were exhausted, you could feel it in every bone of your body. And if Luke hadn’t fallen asleep yet, you couldn’t imagine he felt much better. You wrapped your arm around yourself.

“Please tell me you fell asleep,” You muttered. He shook his head and you sighed. Your head fell forward slightly and you seemed to remember that you had gone to sleep with an icepack. Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked around. It seemed that you had dropped it but you weren’t entirely sure where.

“You looking for the pack?” He asked and you nodded. The pain was beginning to bloom in your temple again, “It’s back in the freezer.” That was a relief. You settled back on the bed but your body was still rigid, “What woke you?” He asked. Your head fell back against the headboard and you let out a hiss of pain.

“Had a weird dream,” You explained. He let out a soft ‘ah’ and you nodded, “Guess a head injury does weird things to your brain,” You muttered. He nodded. He was still leaning against the door frame and you just wanted him to get into the bed, if you were honest with yourself.

“You should try and get some sleep,” He said and you shrugged. You didn’t even want to think about trying to go back to sleep. You just wanted to stay up and talk to him for a little while. You knew that it would make you feel better but he also needed to sleep.

“You need it more than me,” You retorted. He shrugged and you sighed, “If you need to keep an eye on me, just lay in bed with me. It’ll be easier and you might be able to get some sleep.” You were blunt, exhaustion stabbing behind your eyes and your body was aching. You were so sick of the pretense.

“The couch is fine,” He quickly attempted to rebuke but you slipped off the edge of the bed and trudged over to him. 

“Drop the gentleman shit. Just lie in bed with me,” You said, grabbing his wrist and gently tugging him towards it. He sighed but gave in and the two of you slipped under the covers. You lay on your side, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on the injured side of your head. Luke lay across from you, facing you. Your eyes fell closed, “What did he hit me with?” You asked after a moment of silence. Everything was a bit of a blur and you could only really remember the shadowy figure of the Unsub walking away.

“Baseball bat. Aluminum.” Your jaw dropped at his words and he nodded his head, “I took him down and he had it on him. I thought the blood was the vic’s but then I found you,” He explained. You could only imagine how Luke had felt at that moment. It was a baseball bat. And the Unsub had hit you pretty fucking hard. You weren’t sure how you were alive but you were glad that you were even if your head hurt.

“I tried to shoot him but I couldn’t reach my gun,” You admitted. He adjusted his position so he was a little closer to you.

“I got him. The vic is fine. We did our job,” He attempted to soothe you. You nodded but it didn’t make you feel all that much better. In fact, you just felt worse. You should have got him but it was fine. You closed your eyes, hoping that you could just fall asleep. But you couldn’t. You sighed and looked up at Luke.

“Can you hold me?” You asked after a beat. His eyebrows furrowed but he simply nodded, shuffling closer to you. He then pulled you against him and you buried your face against his chest. Your eyes fell closed and he slowly began to run his hands soothing along your back.

“We can talk in the morning, get some sleep,” He whispered softly. You nodded and you felt the tension release from your shoulders before you slipped into sleep.

<3

[riverink]

I can teach you if you want!

Summary. Soap x male reader, fluff Soap could not believe that you never had your first kiss. So he confidently offers to help you out with it.

“What you mean Never?” “Exactly that, I never did it, don’t pretend that its like a big deal or anything” “It is a big deal, you never kissed before!” Soap couldn’t believe the news, someone as handsome as you has never been kissed. Well you were in the army for most in your life, having started at a young age and now being transferred to Taskforce 141 recently. You were used to working by yourself and you were pretty damn efficient at it. “it isn’t important to me, so I naturally never had it on my to do list or anything” “But how can now one even have tried, with a face of yours I would have guessed that there would be a line”, you didn’t know how to work with Soaps flirty nature, especially that all if it seems always being targeted towards you. “Don’t pretend like you are the master in kissing Mactavish”, Ghost needed to listen to this conversation only because he wanted some tea and Soap held you hostage in the kitchen, bombarding you with all kinds of questions. Surely you may not be familiar with people being interested in you but still didn’t mind Soap. You couldn’t deny that you felt somewhat drawn to him but as you already stated, it didn’t really occur to you to seek out any kind of relationship. “Tsk, well you are not helping Lt.” “Never intended to help” “Mhm mhm I am hurt and here I thought you liked me?” You tried to leave while Soap was busy being hurt by Ghosts comment. But he of course noticed and didn’t waste time chasing after you, Ghost, being left alone with his tea, could only role his eyes at the obvious tension both of you were too obvious to notice. Soap catched up quickly and didn’t hesitate to continue where he left off, collecting all his courage. “Well if you want to try, the rookies say I am quite a good teacher!” “So you kiss anyone?” you gave him a teasing smile “You … I can’t believe it, seems like you spend too much time with Ghost. I am serious.” Coming to a stop now in front of the door to your room. “I am willing to teach you” You hesitated, not sure about this. What you were sure about was that you didn’t want to have this conversation in the hallway, where anyone could come by. “Lets continue this inside my room.” “Oh so that’s a yes”, you could practically hear the smirk on Soaps face while entering your room. “I don’t want to have this conversation with anyone being able to join in.” “Scared I’m going to just jump on the next person offering to smooch them?”, he truly can’t stop teasing you. “ Ugh you know, it is a private topic. And after all, why me? Could be anyone” “Well because I like you. And I want to kiss you. Not just anyone” His confidence got you flustered “You seem quite sure about this. Was this your plan?” “Hmm maybe, does it bother you?” “I invited you in no?” You were sitting down on your bed now, inviting him to take the place next to you, which he gladly accepted. “Oh do I see some confidence? Its nice to see our C/n so confident” “Just Y/n is enough right now, Johnny” “If you say so, pretty boy” You kept up your confidence but the blush that rapidly spret down from your ears to your neck was evidence for something different. “So?” “So ?” “ How are we doing this, you’re the one who said he is going to teach me. Or you just want to stare?” Soap couldn’t help the smile spreading on his face, he wouldn’t mind staring at you a little longer. He was head over heals for you and is still barely able to formulate just for himself how down bad he is. “So you are really fine with it?” “Yea of course, could have thrown you out a long while ago if I wasn´t” “You can always say if you feel uncomfortable, we don’t have to go to fast” “To fast? I thought you just gonna teach me how to kiss? Don’t you think you are getting bold now Johnny”, you tried to sound teasing, but Soap looked at you with a serious expression. He extended his hand forward so you can take it. “I mean it Y/n. No pressure I told you I teach you. And no one ever learned something in one day, let alone be a master at it the same time. And Ghost was not so wrong, I am not a master myself.” You felt how your nerves got the better of you. Taking Soaps hand, he squeezed it slightly rubbing his thumb over it. “Okay” Soap took your face in his palm with his free hand and forced you to keep eye contact with his hold. “We going to start with simple pecks, nothing special and pretty easy. Just touching lips, you can see how you feel with it.” You lost the trust in your voice and simply nodded. Soap used his hand on your face to guide you. Helping to tilt your head till your lips touched. You were stiff like a board not sure what to do, pursing your lips and keeping your eyes shut. It felt weird to kiss someone, but you trusted Soap. You let him guide you, repeating it a few times till you felt more relaxed, you opened your eyes slightly, having direct eye contact with Soap now. You felt hot, extremely hot. You wanted more but didn’t know how to. So you did what you just learned, you closed the gap. It was a bit helpless, but Soap couldn’t help to smile into it. He kept your head in place and started to lock your lips. You couldn’t help it and placed your arms around his neck, its what felt right. When you moved apart Soap couldn’t help but start chuckling. You pouted at him and giving him a questioning look. “You really are bad this. Its so cute” all of that with the biggest grin on his face, you broke the eye contact and with the position your in, you can only hide in his neck. “Oh I’m sorry, pretty boy, please don’t be like that” “You started it” “Well that’s why I am teaching you, no?” You gave him silence, thinking about what to say, he started to pet your head with his hand that was on your face, you may look mad but you still held hands and he did not fail to notice that. “I liked it I’m happy I could be your first.” “I liked it as well, maybe we continue this. Sometime later?” “Sure whatever my pretty boy wants” You snapped your head up, “You are doing that on purpose!” “What?” he pretended innocence. But the moment got interrupted quite abruptly “Both of you love idiots, out now, something important just came in. Prices office in 5” You looked at each other for a moment and then chanted in the same sing sang “Yes Lieutenant!” not letting go of the other. Ghost could not decide what is worse, two obvious idiots or the combined power of both these idiots.

[wolven91]

Rootin' Tootin' Cowboy Canid

The planet wasn't a hospitable place.

Hell, that whole area of space wasn't exactly hospitable, but it was still where Urma had made her home.

Harsh winds blew down off the plateaus and brought with it sand, grit and dust that threatened to blind the human. She pulled down her goggles and lifted the scarf back up to cover her mouth and nose. From here, she could peek over the lip of the valley she was in and observe the surrounding land for miles on end. She peered at the tiny figures on the horizon and mentally noted the predators. Thankfully, the group of creatures that could worry her charges were running in the opposite direction she needed.

He human clicked her tongue twice and jabbed into the scaled flesh between her legs with her heel before leaning to her left and digging her left heel in as a constant pressure. The giant domesticated lizard that she was riding atop merely grumbled and growled, moistening a beady eye before turning to its left and rapidly descended the rocky outcropping from where the human had been observing the herd and surrounding area.

"Nothing on the horizon, we good to move this lot onto the next area." Urma called, leaning back until her own back nearly touched the scaled hide of the lizard as it effortlessly clambered down the sheer rock face.  They were almost vertical as her friend and fellow squidgit herder, Mersa, turned her way and grinned.

The canid's teeth were wicked and sharp, but Mersa was merely attempting to recreate the human grin again, a flinch-worthy sight to say the least. The canid turned back to the oversized hat that Urma had gifted them only that morning and gently thumbed the hem along the brim of the hat. The human merely grinned as she urged her lizard onwards towards the herd who dutifully began moving as a single unit away from Urma and her mount.

She called back to the canid until Mersa pulled up alongside Urma.

"You're not going to be all distracted because I got you a single hat are you?" The human asked with a small smirk.

"N-no! I just... I never wore a hat before." The canid sniffed, raising the head wear up onto their head and placing it down carefully. The canid's ears had to go flat, and the hat merely rested on top of it. One strong breeze, like those found near the plateau and it would be long lost to the winds. The small string of material would catch around the wearer's neck, but it still wouldn't be comfortable to wear by the canid.

Urma merely snorted at the comical sight, the way her ears were laid; it was if Mersa had just heard perturbing news.

"Sorry, I didn't think of the ears. How'd you used to wear helmets? You can't pretend you soldiers never wore something to keep you melon intact?" The human asked as the giant lizard she rode practically flowed over the rough and rocky terrain.

"Of course we did... They had ear holes." Replied the canid, pulling her own lizard away from Urma's as it took a half-hearted snap at the other lizard's leg.

"Maybe I can...?" Mused the human, considering how to adjust the item.

But the human's thoughts were interrupted by the loud sound of tearing material. Glancing up and over, the canid had merely pressed her thumb claws into the material, punching through it was ease before repeating the action in a small line. The damaged material was cut relatively cleanly and as Mersa placed the hat atop their head once more, Urma wouldn't have been able to say that the holes weren't designed to be there in the first place.

"How'd I look?" Asked the canid, turning to the human as the pair continued to corral the herd of squidgits towards the gentle slope of the exit to the valley. The plateaus were a barren and a harsh wasteland but were broken up by regular depressions that lead down into fertile bowls where travellers and animals could take shelter from the constant scouring winds and sandblasted the plateaus clean of any landmarks.

"Dashing. Now remember to take that off when entering a building unless you mean to cause trouble. If you mean respect, take it off and hold it over your chest, over your heart if you're telling the truth." Listed Urma, closing her eyes and counting her points off on her hand as she spoke.

To her credit Mersa mentally made note of each of the points and would hold them as if they were cold hard truths of the universe.

The pair continued to chatter, even with their masks on and scarves up to avoid getting scoured by the winds.

This was why neither of them noticed the ship descend from the clouds behind them and in a screaming, roaring near miss, ploughed the plateau dirt with the belly of their ship as the low-slung cargo bay scooped up half the herd in a swing barn swallow.

The pair of them both unslung the long rifles from off their back and immediately began firing. Mersa charging up the left side, and Urma on the right, their lizard mounts easily speeding up with their legs scrambling with lightning speed. The herd was panicked and not paying attention to either Urma's or Mersa's directions.

Urma pulled the underslung recharge lever to refresh the charge, only this time she held the lever open for longer before aiming down sights and firing at the pivoting wing engine as it passed overhead with an overcharged blast. The flash gave her sunburn and the overheat alarms protested. But the shot was good; it had taken off a panel in a shower of sparks and metal. The internals were exposed.

She just needed one good shot.

The ship took a wide arc and came back round for another pass, disappearing briefly behind great clouds of sand and dust. Half a herd wasn't a payday, these pirates needed as many as they could get.

The ship was on course to scoop not only the remaining herd up, but the human as well as it skimmed the ground, its front-loading bay door still open and ready to eat its prize like a grotesque gluttonous fish.

Urma aimed down her sights without fear, she just needed a window. Her mount was steady, her aim was focused.

"Just give me the opening..." She murmured to no one.

The ship was getting larger and larger, all the while she didn't flinch, she only get a flash of an opening. Her trigger began to depress as she readied herself.

That was until Mersa's mount collided into her own, knocking her aim, her shot flashing and pinging off the cockpit window, scorching it.

The human fell from her mount, feeling the solid ground kicking the wind out of her as she rolled over and over as her momentum was bled away. Clearing her from the danger of being scooped up with the rest of the herd. Unopposed, the ship collected the last of its prize, the rest of the herd was consumed by the pirate's ship cavernous maw.

Along with the canid her mount.

In a deafening roar of destroyed dirt and scarred metal, the ship began to rise as it completed its pass, the shouted in confused betrayal.

"No! No, no, no!" Urma shouted, scrambling to her feet, and snatching up her gun as the retreating ship arced up into the sky and disappeared behind the clouds. Urma stood there, dumbfounded as her friend was stolen away from her.

A moment of helplessness returned, flashes of how she felt during the Sol-3 Incident bubbled back up to the surface. Unable to stop anything, unable to fight back. Her home and life destroyed in one horrid evening. A choking bark escaped her.

But a firm shove at her elbow brought her back to reality and her gut grabbed onto the despair and buried it deep.

The giant lizard's head had merely nosed her. Within its jaws; Mersa's long gun. The human slung her own weapon.

She rubbed a hand firmly into the flat centre of the creature's head by way of 'thanks' while she retrieved the gun. She checked the cell and the crystal for damage, finding none. Urma pulled a face and scowled at the weapon before turning her arm over and observing her wrist reaching to press a button when the arm mounted computer clicked on a tracking beacon, pinging to alert the human. It had picked up a herd tracking pip. The pip used by Mersa.

Mersa had to be alive to have activated it and, knowing the sly canid, will have bugged the pirate's ship rather than herself. Urma felt tear sting at her more than sand ever could. Pirates wouldn't keep prisoners, the chances of Urma catching up to them before they murdered her friend were slim.

The human knew this.

She should have stayed in GC territories, where these incidents didn't happen. She had been warned about living in the unclaimed territories.

Urma didn't care. All that was the past now. All the consumer the human, was hunting down the pirates who had decimated her world.

"Dead or alive... I'm coming for you Mersa... God help them if they've hurt you..." She promised with venom dripping from every word.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[nhasablogg]

The dance of three

Fandom: MCU

Characters: Bucky/Steve/Tony

Summary: Steve and Tony help Bucky get out of his head in their usual way.

A/N: I wrote this for Throwback Week, a project where I would be revisiting fandoms and pairings I used to write for back in the day and posting a week's worth of fics for them. But life happens, and I don't think I'm at a point where I can do this project and be happy with the results. I did however finish this fic before deciding to scrap it, and I have a few half-finished ones I'd love to eventually complete, but for now I'm leaving you with this good old fashioned Stuckony fic, complete with tickles and some teasing and pondering. I hope you like it!

Words: 2k

(Read it on AO3)

Bucky wasn’t good at this, despite the amount of them he’d attended in the past year. Too many people loosened up by the excessive amount of booze you could sneak into your system just by casually grabbing at the champagne glasses that were everywhere. Too many people and too many eyes on him, even though they rarely spoke to him. He used to be good at charming a crowd, only nowadays, in this century, he preferred if they left him alone. Galas were full of people he’d never been around. There was no warmth there.

“Are you sulking?” A hand at his waist, Steve’s minty breath at his ear.

“Not exactly,” Bucky replied, straightening out his features which seemed to definitely have been forming a frown. No wonder people glanced at him quickly and then pretended they hadn’t. “It’s hot in here. Don’t you think it’s hot in here?”

Steve smiled. What had once been a situation where Bucky always had the advantage had now turned into the opposite, although neither of them were even close to being on Tony’s level, naturally. “It is a little stuffy in here, yes,” Steve said, humoring him, or comforting him, or both. Probably both. “Do you want to step outside?”

“I want to find Tony and leave.”

“Buck.”

He sighed. “Outside’s fine. I wanted to look at the view anyway.”

The gala, the most boring of parties, was at the very top of a skyscraper with a view of the entire city, meaning even the balcony was gated in the form of tall metal bars to keep drunk and depressed people from ruining the mood. Bucky might’ve imagined it, but the chilly march air felt thin out there, but at least it was quieter.

“The size of this place is bigger than our first apartment.” He pointed to the ground, tracing the outlines of the invisible squeaky floors of a Brooklyn flat many moons ago, which had been lined with the few books they owned and Steve’s many overfilled notebooks. It had almost been beautiful had it not been so utterly pathetic how their lack of possessions had nothing to do with being okay with a meager living.

Steve was following his hand with his eyes, humming as Bucky continued outlining their too small bed and rickety chairs. “So’s our bedroom back at the Tower.”

“I know. It’s weird. I don’t know what to do with all that space now.”

Steve leaned into him, looking so good in that stupid navy blue suit that Bucky imagined pulling him into a restroom just to rip it off. “It’ll get easier.”

Bucky didn’t respond, because he was sure that Steve didn’t just mean this, and Bucky wasn’t in the mood for existentialism, believe it or not.

He sighed and pressed his cheek toward Steve’s face, grinning when Steve laughed and kissed him. He nearly screamed when someone suddenly kissed his other cheek, only the rational side of his brain caught up to him and he turned to find Tony having crept up to them. “Hey you.”

“Hi. Why exactly are you getting cozy without me?”

“Couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“And here I thought it was the two of you who were hiding.”

“Mm, you jealous?”

“That you’re able to hide? Very.” He looked tired, although something in his tone made Bucky say, “So why are we here then?”

Tony clicked his tongue and moved away from him. Steve might’ve been okay with Bucky’s maybe not so subtle whiny tone which he’d adopted for the night, but Tony wasn’t.

“Sorry,” he hurried to add, averting his gaze. “I know you don’t want to be here either.” I know it’s hard for you to be around these people and all the booze.

“Yeah, well.” Tony cleared his throat. “I’m glad you both came with me anyway.”

“Of course we came,” Steve said, shooting Bucky a look.

“Yeah,” he said. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Tony broke out into a laugh and Bucky felt himself relax. “God, it’s boring, isn’t it?”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve seen worse. Nice view, though.”

Tony turned so that they were standing side by side with Bucky in the middle, watching a glittering New York City that spread out as far as the eye could see. Bucky suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to cry and turned his face to the side where Tony was standing, thinking he didn’t know him as well as Steve did yet, and found him already looking at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Bucky.”

“I don’t know.”

Tony looked at Steve briefly, the two of them trying to quietly figure out what to do. It might’ve once offended Bucky had he not been so fascinated by the ways they all communicated. How much easier it was now.

“We can leave,” Tony said slowly, a hand on his side, firm and reassuring. “Soon. I’m sorry. I just have to-”

“You don’t have to apologize, Tones, Jesus.” Bucky shook his head. “It’s not your fault I’m being an asshole.”

“You are obviously uncomfortable. I wouldn’t call that being an asshole.”

“I’m, uh, strangely emotional.” He regretted it the moment he said it. “Wait, that sounds pathetic, I take it back.”

Tony laughed more than the situation probably called for. “You’re killing me here. Steve, entertain him while I go sort some things out.”

Steve hummed in a way that made them both turn toward him. “Or maybe we can- you know. Fix things so that none of us have to suffer through the rest of the night. Buy a bit more time.”

Bucky understood what he meant before Tony did, and so he was already bright red by the time Tony started grinning. “Oh. Is that it, then?”

“I never said that,” Bucky was quick to say, although there was no heat in his voice anymore. He both hated and loved Steve for always knowing what he needed.

“But you’re not objecting.” Steve’s smile was kind to Tony’s playful. Bucky didn’t know which one he feared more.

“Only if you want us to,” Steve added. “Otherwise we can stay here while Tony finishes his business. How long would that take?”

“At least half an hour,” Tony said, checking his watch. “Can you wait for half an hour?”

“Not now that you’ve teased me like that.”

They laughed at Bucky’s groan. “Well, that’s settled then. Let’s find a bathroom or something.”

“This is so unromantic.”

“I can totally light a candle.”

“And embarrassing.”

Tony hooked his arm through Bucky’s. “You’ll live.”

They’d only done this once before, but Bucky hadn’t been able to stop thinking of it since. Steve had remembered it from their time together before everything, and so he hadn’t been surprised when it had slowly crept into their relationship with Tony too. Correction. They’d only done it in public once before.

Bucky knew even less what to do with it now that there were two sets of eyes observing him, two mouths smiling down at him. Two pairs of hands slowly unraveling him, finding each and every weak spot. He’d never been shy, but this was too close to it for comfort, only he didn’t mind the vulnerability.

They made their way through the gala, looking determined enough that no one stopped them. Bucky felt Steve press closely against his back while Tony pulled him through the crowd, the three of them interconnected. He imagined them grinning giddily, but he himself had not yet learned how to be relaxed about this. How to have this be more than a knot in his stomach until the very first touch would force the anxiety out of him.

“Why are you-” Steve had stopped himself all those decades ago. “You seem. Tense. But in the wrong way.”

“The wrong way?”

“You don’t seem nervous as much as worried.” He’d taken a step back and Bucky had held himself back from grabbing for him to pull him back. “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

Bucky had wished to tell him that they could keep it casual, although he hadn’t. Steve would figure it out eventually, although with Tony it was still new and Bucky felt anxious about it again. Everything else had only made it worse, but he appreciated that Tony never made a big deal out of it. They didn’t talk about his anxiety; how his timidness nearly turned him stoic. Steve had accepted it long ago. Tony didn’t question it.

“Ah, here.” Tony pushed open a door after leading them through several corridors to reveal a relatively big bedroom. “They always make sure they have somewhere to put the rich and drunk.” Bucky didn’t ask if he’d been in there before, but he could picture it. Tony stumbling over the carpet. Tony passing out on the floor.

“This is also miraculously bigger than our old apartment,” Steve said, but Bucky’s attempt at a laugh was weak. “Hey,” Steve continued, a flicker of concern on his face. “Do you actually want this right now?”

“Yes.” Bucky ducked his head. “You know how I get.”

Steve stepped closer to him, a hand on his wrist. “I do.” A squeeze. A smile. “The door can be locked. We’re far away from the party, although I would also assume the room is partly sound proof. You can laugh as much as you want.”

“And we,” Tony said, appearing on Bucky’s other side. “can tickle as much as we, and you, want. Okay?”

Bucky finally, finally, broke into a nervous grin. “Okay.”

They were still new to the dance of three, and so Bucky watched his partners try to figure out how to move around each other without overcrowding him. It was almost amusing, only he felt suddenly extremely ticklish and aware of what was to come, and so he sat on the bed and tried to keep himself from curling up already. The gala was nothing to him now. He barely remembered where he was. This room could be any room. This bed could be any bed (except for their old squeaky Brooklyn bed from the 30s). Tony sat beside him first, the mattress dipping from his weight, and turned his body to face him. One day they might not start this with uncertainty, but that was not that day. “Can I-? Your upper body-?”

“Yes.” Bucky ducked his head, keeping his hands from covering his face. “Anywhere you want.”

Tony grinned, slowly, amused. “Okay. Could you lift your arms for me then?”

“Definitely not.”

Steve laughed. “I could’ve told you that. Here, let me.” 

He pushed Bucky down gently, covering his body with his own and holding onto his arms, and Bucky was laughing even before he felt Tony reach for his armpit. Steve was blocking many of his spots from reach, but being trapped and having Tony zero in on one specific area was almost worse. And once Steve started nuzzling into his neck? He was a goner. Thank god for sound proof walls and loud galas and partners who didn’t judge you.

Bucky turned his face in an attempt to block Steve’s nuzzling and came face to face with Tony, who really had no business lying down with them but was and was letting his fingers lazily circle Bucky’s skin, moving up and down between his armpit and upper ribs. He was smiling. It tickled like hell. Almost worse because he was taking his sweet time with it.

“Hi,” he said and Bucky would’ve rolled his eyes if he could. “Do you feel better now?”

“Shut the hell up.”

“Oh, Steve, he’s being mean to me.” Tony grabbed for his hip, and Bucky started squirming when he realized he was aiming for the hem of his dress shirt which was tucked in his pants. “That simply won’t do.”

“No, no, no, not bare skin, no-” Of course Bucky’s protests weren’t serious enough, but Tony was still inexperienced that he always paused, giving Bucky a chance to explain if he meant it. When Bucky didn’t continue, he got his shirt free, slipping a hand into it easily and scribbling over his bare side. Steve was still nuzzling his neck, picking up speed again after the brief pause.

How Bucky was supposed to go back out there and pretend as if this hadn’t happened he wasn’t sure. Fortunately his blazer would hide the wrinkles in his shirt, though there was not much saving his hair. Not to mention the ghost tickles that would follow him for the rest of the night. There was no getting rid of them either.

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 30: Smut Themed Sentence Starters

I ended up using two sentences: "Who needs a sleigh ride when I can ride you instead" and "Is that a candy cane in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Tags: Established Relationship, Implied Smut, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Eddie Munson Is A Menace, Steve Harrington Is A Romantic

wc: 1345 | Rating: M

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

Steve is a hopeless romantic.

Always has been and probably always will be.

Eddie pretends to hate it, but Steve knows the truth. That under all that leather and loud music is a giant teddy bear who swoons every time Steve shows up with a fresh bouquet of flowers or a pack of his favorite cigarettes from Melvalds.

Everyone else may be fooled, but not Steve.

Which is why Steve has to pull out all the stops for their first winter together as a couple.

He set the bar high last year when they were just friends and now he has to top it. Not because Eddie’s expecting it or anything, but because he wants to. Eddie deserves it. And honestly, so does Steve.

After watching hours of romantic holiday movies and driving around the local towns to see what winter activities they have to offer, Steve draws up the plan. He rents a small cabin two towns over where the snow is already two feet deep with more on the way and buys tickets to all the fun events the town has to offer. Well, almost all of the events. Ice skating is out of the question after last year’s incident left them both battered, bruised, and so sore they could barely get out of their own beds for the Hopper-Byers New Year’s Eve party.

So far, the vacation is everything Steve hoped it would be. They’ve played in the snow, eaten the best apple pie he’s ever gotten his hands on, and strolled around town whispering judgments about the over-the-top Christmas decorations people have outside their houses. They’ve also made themselves comfortable in the cabin — breaking in the bed and the couch and maybe even the indoor hot tub once or twice.

But today is the real showstopper. The grand finale to their little winter weekend getaway and the entire reason Steve booked this place in the first place.

They’re going on a reindeer-pulled sleigh ride through the picturesque snowy terrain of the town.

Or at least they’re supposed to be going on a reindeer-pulled sleigh ride.

“What do you mean you double booked?”

“It seems we accidentally scheduled you and another party for the two o’clock sleigh ride,” the woman behind the counter says. She’s older, graying hair pulled back in a neat bun and thin glasses falling down the bridge of her nose. Steve glares as her lips turn up in what is supposed to be an apologetic smile as she continues. “Since the other party included children, we assumed you wouldn’t mind giving up your spot for a refund.”

“Well, you assumed wrong,” Steve snaps, hands slamming down on the desk a bit more forceful than he had hoped. “You didn’t even give me a courtesy call to let me know of the cancelation.”

“We were just about to do that.”

“Bullshit! My reservation was scheduled for ten minutes ago. If you were going to call you would have done it the moment you realized your mistake.”

“I am sorry for the inconvenience Mr. Harrington but we only realized the error when the other family checked in early.”

“So if I was allowed to check in early like I tried to do, you would have let us keep our reservation?” Steve asks, growing more and more irritated by the second.

He and Eddie have been freezing their balls off for almost an hour now outside of the rustic shop. Even bundled up in their winter coats, beanies, and hand-knitted scarf and mitten set from Claudia hasn't been enough to keep them warm. It’s why he sent Eddie off in the direction of the hot chocolate stand while he tried to work his charm and get them into an earlier slot.

“Well, no, that’s not what I’m saying, but—“

“This is ridiculous,” Steve huffs, tugging at the hem of his scarf. “I booked this trip specifically for this sleigh ride and now you’re telling me I can’t go on it.”

“I understand your disappointment Mr. Harr—“

“Stop calling me that!” If there’s one thing Steve hates more than being unjustly inconvenienced it’s being referred to be his surname. He doesn’t need to be reminded of the man he shares his name with. Not now, not ever.

“Um, sorry…” the woman trails off and glances down at her schedule. “Steve. I can offer you a voucher for the trouble. Unfortunately, we are booked up for the rest of the week.”

“Keep the voucher and shove it,” Steve hisses before shoving himself away from the counter.

It takes him a minute to reign in his anger as he stomps his way toward Eddie. He’s sitting on a bench holding two cups of hot chocolate. Judging by the way his body shivers, they’re not doing much to keep him warm.

“Uh oh,” Eddie says, setting the cups aside when Steve gets closer. “I don’t like that frown.”

“Yeah, well, get used to it. Gladys over there fucked with our reservation,” Steve sneers, plopping down on the bench. “Said they doubled booked us and voided our reservation to give to some couple with kids because she “figured I wouldn’t mind.” Of course, I fucking mind!”

“Oh sweetheart,” Eddie sighs, tugging Steve until he’s tucked securely under his left arm. “M’sorry. She sounds like a bitch.”

“Those kids aren’t even going to remember the sleigh ride when they’re older! But we would have!”

Eddie nods in agreement, nuzzling his cheek into the soft cotton of Steve’s beanie. The contact is almost enough to extinguish Steve’s anger. Almost.

“Now the vacation is ruined.”

“And you say I’m a drama queen,” Eddie teases, pulling away and twisting on the bench to face Steve. He tucks one leg under him and lets the other dangle off the bench before joining their hands together as best he can given they’re still wearing mittens. “Our vacation is not ruined. It’s been fun. Maybe our best one yet.”

“Yeah, well it could have been even better.”

“Oh come on,” Eddie tsks, squeezing his hand. “Who needs a sleigh ride when I can ride you instead.”

“Eddie!” Steve gapes. He can feel what little heat is in his body crawling its way to his cheeks, turning them a bright shade of red if he had to guess.

“Or you could ride me,” Eddie says, before leaning forward. He gets his lips on the shell of Steve’s ear before continuing, “You know I’m not picky.”

Suddenly the blood rushing to his face takes a detour traveling down, down, down until it settles in his dick. Steve can feel it twitch at Eddie’s word and the feeling of his warm breath against his ear.

“You’re a menace.”

Eddie hums, glancing around to make sure no one is watching them before letting his hand drift to Steve’s lap. He moves slowly at first, teasing him until his hand finally settles on the apparent bulge in his pants.

“M’ you like it though, don’t ya big boy,” Eddie says, giving an experimental squeeze before pulling his hand away completely. When Steve looks up, he’s staring at him with those big round mischievous eyes of his. “Is that a candy cane in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

Steve groans both in pleasure and in exasperation. He buries his head in the crook of Eddie’s neck for a moment before pulling away. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“Hey, it put a smile on your face didn’t it.”

It did. Though, if he’s honest with himself, Eddie always puts a smile on his face. Even when he’s being an annoying, teasing, little shithead. Leaning forward to close the distance, Steve gives him a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away.

“Christ, your lips are freezing.”

“Better take me inside and warm me up.”

Steve gets himself on his feet before turning around to offer a hand to Eddie. “Come on then, I think I know just how to get you nice and warm, baby.”

[syntheticfoxfire]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ niragi + companionship [tw: dying, physical injuries]

You’ve been close to death before. Who here hasn't? This world isn’t particularly forgiving, so it’s only to be expected.

Still, you’ve never been this close and getting closer.

Putting more pressure on the bleeding hole in your stomach, you brave on. This isn’t how you meant to die. No matter how ruthless the games and this whole experience made you, how it all changed you, you still longed for happiness. And dying cold and alone wasn’t part of it. One would think that among the bodies that littered the streets there would be someone barely alive to keep you company at least, but that’s just your luck.

Then you hear a wet, disgusting couching. Great, that sounds promising. You’re not sure for how much longer you’ll be able to move, so you try to hurry.

What’s good is that the person in question isn’t too far and his wounds seem pretty bad. He’s been shot like you, and clearly you’re both at the end of your life spans unless a miracle happens. The bad news is who this guy is.

Then again, it’s the end of this world, seeing as only one last game remains. It’s most likely going to be your end too, so why not let go of all the hard feelings. You barely have any strength left anyway and you’d like to use it to breathe for a while longer.

You lower yourself to the ground, leaning for support on the car Niragi’s resting against. You sit right next to him, ignoring his scoff and venomous ‘fuck off’. Fuck him, though, so you move even closer, letting yourself fall over him and resting your upper body on his lap and stomach. His blood soaks your hair. You don’t care, it’s a mess anyway. Being like this feels pretty good though. Who would’ve thought.

“The fuck you’re doing,” he growls, his chest rumbling with blood slowly filling his lungs. You suppose he’d like to remove you from himself, but neither of you have enough strength to really move.

"Dying, the same as you," you shrug, or try to, "Don't wanna do it alone."

It's too late to hide now, to pretend. You're scared. You don't wanna die, period, but the prospect of dying alone is even more terrifying. While you were never more than a casual acquaintance or reluctant ally with Niragi, he’s a piece of familiarity. He’s not a good person, but he’s been decent enough to you. And you figure that here, on the brink of death, it doesn’t matter if he sees you open and vulnerable.

“Should’ve killed you when I had the chance,” he sighs, as exaggerated as his busted lungs allow. His wheezy breathing sounds terrible. You almost feel sorry for him. 

“Should’ve fucked me too, now we’ll die without ever having fun,” you chuckle. Ah, the memories. Maybe you were more than acquaintances. Where’s that line anyway? He huffs.

“Where’s the fun if you can’t fight back,” as he speaks, he lazily trails one of his hands up your thigh. You can tell it’s a lot of effort.

“I wouldn’t have fought back before either,” you hum, “You’re an asshole, but you’re hot. Back then and now.” His hand pauses on your leg, resting on your thigh before getting anywhere inappropriate. 

“You know, I always wondered how you were in our world,” you continue. Blood loss is probably making you too chatty for your own good. It feels comfortable though. He’s warm even as he’s bleeding out on you, you on him, your blood mixing with his in a puddle under your bodies. “I’d like to meet you there. I’m curious if we’d be friends.”

“You hate me,” he deadpans.

“You think I’d come to die together with you if I hated you?” you roll your eyes weakly, too afraid they’d really get stuck up there with how weak you were feeling, “The point is me hating you, not myself. I mean it’s not like I like you, but I guess there might be potential if we met under different circumstances.”

You close your eyes. You really shouldn’t have talked that much, but at least it’s taken your mind off things. He’s really warm. Soft, and his hand feels nice on your thigh. You let your head swing closer to his body, gently rubbing on his chest. His blood smears on your cheek and he hisses as you brush against his wound.

You feel him move, his hand lands on your shoulder and you think he might push you away. Yet instead of retaliating he just wraps his other arm around you. His hold is loose, and you guess there’s not much time for either of you. What a shame. You’d love to tease him.

Faintly you hear explosions somewhere both far away and all around you. A voice informs you about something, but you only make out the key words over the sound of Niragi’s barely-there heartbeat.

You make your choice, and you wonder where you’re going to wake up.

[part 2??]

[jensensfanfic]

A CONFESSIONAL ESSAY

[or: a part 2 to 'kissing montage']

pairing: imogen heaney x f!reader

prompts: heartstopperweekly's week 1 prompts -> 1: summer break/holiday) & 3: "Please help me with my homework. I'll owe you one."

word count: 2.2k+

warnings: flirting, established relationship, an almost-love confession, reader literally runs away from her feelings, anxiety

a/n: this was written for week 1 of @heartstopperweekly. it can be read as a standalone fic, but i do recommend reading my fic, "kissing montage" first for the best experience. also, idk if the 'essay themes' mentioned would actually be a thing, but let's just pretend for the sake of this fic

—☆—

Imogen flops onto the bed face first, and the contents of her pencil case all fall out and roll onto the floor where you have your own stationery and books spread out into organised spaces. You hear her begin to talk, but it's muffled due to the pillow her face is now buried in.

"What was that, Im?" Laughing, you rise to your feet and plop onto the edge of the mattress. "Didn't quite catch it."

She lifts her head just long enough to repeat herself. "I said we only have a week left to finish our summer homework, and I have no idea what to write for my English essay."

Imogen slams her face back into the soft pillow and groans loudly. You shuffle up the bed and lay down, peppering her shoulder in little kisses to get her attention.

Imogen sighs and then rolls over to face you. "It's your fault, you know?"

"Excuse me? What's my fault?"

"This... I could've had this stupid essay done already, but you're just so d—" She cuts herself off.

"'So', what?" You lift your brows and wait for her to explain the blush that starts to spread over her cheekbones, but then she suddenly shifts. "Hey, come back and tell me why this is my fault."

"Just forget I said that." Imogen slides off the bed and back onto the floor, picking up her book again to find a blank, lined page. She starts to draw a cloud with little lines coming out of it. "Come on, help me brainstorm ideas."

You follow her to where she's sitting with her legs crossed on the carpet and pull out your phone.

"Wait, what are you doing?" She asks, leaning over to try and look at your phone screen. "You're not gonna help?"

"I'm taking a break."

"But I need you! Help me, please!" She tries her hardest to plead with you, eyes wide and lips pouting. Reaching over, she lightly ghosts her manicured nails over your arm rhythmically.

You'd be lying if you said that the feeling didn't send shivers down your spine; make you want to give in, and then lean over and kiss her– homework forgotten.

"Nope." You shake your head, rapidly blinking heavenly thoughts of flicking her hand away and pulling her over you. "Not until you tell me why it's my fault that you can't write your damn essay."

She huffs, and you hear the little thud of her pen dropping onto paper as you continue playing a game on your phone. You purposefully turn up the volume and grin.

"Really?"

"Really." You look over the screen at her and wiggle your brows. "You can't just blame me and then not tell me why."

"It's just a stupid thing. I didn't mean it, alright." She rolls her eyes. "Just... ugh! Please help me with my homework. I'll owe you one. You're so smart and so creative and so good at—"

"Hold up, hold up, go back. You'll owe me one?"

"Yeah, anything." She perks up, desperate to keep you interested in the possibility of a deal. "We could, uh... go out after? Maybe a cinema date? Or we could order in pizza? I'll pay for it."

You drag your bottom lip in between your teeth and look up at the ceiling, thinking, then shake your head. "I'm not really feeling like going anywhere... or pizza."

"Okay, okay..." Imogen glances around her room. "Um... ooh! You can pick one of my plushies to keep. You can pick any one that you want! Besides my queen frog, of course."

You look over at the green frog plush sitting on her nightstand, a little crown on top of its head. You briefly remember when you'd given it to her years ago, when you were both in primary school and your friendship was beginning to bloom into something special; into a forever kind of deal.

You smile, but you don't answer, so Imogen carries on looking around her bedroom until she spots something lying under her bed.

"What about this guy?" She plucks the Luigi plush that she'd practically stolen from you at the arcade almost a year ago. She waves his arms around and pats his head. "I know you still want to steal him right back after I kidnapped him from you."

"Hmm." You reach out like you are going to take him, but then pull back just as quickly. "Nah. I'll have plenty of chances to reclaim him when you're not looking."

Imogen sudddenly throws her head back, and tosses Luigi across the room, making you flinch a little. He bounces off the door and lands perfectly upright in her laundry basket.

"God sake! You're so annoying." She exclaims.

"Rude!"

"You..." Imogen ignores you and she now looks both equally annoyed and nervous, the second emotion puzzling you. "You want me to tell you why I said it's your fault, don't you?"

"Ha, you know me well. Oh, yes." You smile. "I sure do, Im. I'll help you figure out an essay topic for the low, low price of..." You clap your hands against your legs, creating a drumroll sound effect. "Revealing why this is all my fault."

Imogen looks exasperated, but there's a hint of amusement in the slight pull at the corner of her mouth. Her lashes touch the bottom of her eyebrows when she rolls her eyes again, dramatically.

There's also a feeling of nervousness that momentarily washes over your own body and mind. You worry that she might be about to say anything that could cause discord, or a fight.

What if she was about to say something that would upset or anger you?

It's not like you had never had arguments as a couple before. After all, you had been going out for almost a year. When they did happen, it would usually be resolved in true Imogen and [your name] fashion; with a long talk, a couple of emotion-desolving jokes and lots of kisses.

Before you can overthink too much, Imogen groans loudly before saying, "You better not make fun of me. This is dumb."

"Im, I would never."

"Okay, fine!" Her head falls and she fixate on her fingers, starts to pick at a loose thread on the lilac-coloured cardigan she's wearing. When she speaks, her voice is quiet and shy, not like her usual bubbly self at all. "It's because of you. It's your fault because of... you."

"What does that mean, I don't—"

"Ugh! It's because you're so freaking distracting, okay!? You're cute laugh, and your face, and you're so pretty it's very annoying." She looks up like she's asking for help from a higher power. Continuing on, her eyes drop back to her fidgeting fingertips. "Ugh, it's so embarassing... but, I can never concentrate when you look at me the way you do— like that! Like you are right now! I can't focus when you're always so... you!"

You could swear that your heart literally flips inside of your chest as you hear the words tumble from her lips. It takes several minutes after she's finished to say anything back.

"I..."

One word is all you can manage before you take a steadying breath and try to regain a slither of the confidence you had been wearing before her outburst of honest affection. It takes a moment, but you find it, shuffling closer to Imogen.

"You find me... distracting, huh?"

You bump her shoulder with yours, in the space where her cardigan has fallen down to her inner elbow. The familiar sensation of tingles chase themselves all over your body at the innocent, yet intimate press of skin against skin.

It feels like fireworks.

"That's why you can't decide on an essay topic?"

Imogen tries to turn away, but you swiftly take one of her hands, stopping her. You use the other hand to take her chin between your thumb and fingers, and guide her face to look at you properly.

The rose-coloured shadow that dusts her cheeks is now visible, and you find it both adorable and a huge compliment towards you; making you feel all kinds of lovely and warm and prized.

"Im, that's so sweet. And you know I find it hard to get anything done around you as well." You lean forward and kiss the corner of her mouth. "All I want to do when I'm with you, is grab your gorgeous face and kiss you forever."

Imogen's fingers interlace with yours as a small, shy laugh escapes her. She finally replies, tinted cheeks still evident and pleasantly hot under the tender stroke of your thumb. "Really?"

"Can't you tell?" You move impossibly closer and peck the space between the top or her nose and her forehead. "That's why I can't stop looking at you, but I never thought you noticed, to be honest."

"Well, I wish you would stop, so I can get some work done."

"I don't think I could stop if I tried." You rest your forehead against hers and smile. You chuckle then, repeating the same phrase that has become your thing since you began dating. "I really, really like you."

She hums, content. "Hm. I really, really, really like you, too."

Imogen's hand comes up to hold the back of your neck, and you stay locked in the moment for as long as it takes for you mind to come up with an idea, dragging you out of the bubble moment and causing you to pull away.

Imogen's looks dazed and confused, her hand hovering in the air from the sudden loss of contact. "What— Come back! That was nice!"

"Sorry, I just got an idea for your essay."

"Really? Okay, wait a sec." Imogen's eyes widen, and then she reaches for her book and scrambles for the pen she wants; a purple one with a little fuzzy ball on the end. Once found, she rest the book on her leg. "Alright, tell me your brilliant idea."

"You can write about me." Imogen smirks and quirks a brow.

"I— ha— I don't mean that in like, a self-centred type of way. I don't mean you should write about me, specifically, but the theme is romance, right?"

"Or friendship, or family relations. Basically any type of relationship... it's pretty vague."

"Well, maybe you could write about chemistry, like in a relationship. Like ours." You pause for a beat. Imogen's smile is fond as she patiently waits for more. "It could be about how two people can become drawn to each other. How they can feel so connected that sometimes it's all they can think about, to the point where it becomes, you know... distracting."

"Mmhmm." As Imogen nods along excitedly, practically transcribing every word you say into her book, you start to feel breathless. You find yourself pressing a hand against your sweater covered chest.

You try to push on, wanting nothing more than to help Imogen, despite the beads of sweat suddenly adorning the line of your hair.

"Write about how it can actually interfere with your day, thinking about that person and how much you crave being around them, and how much you lo— uh, how much you... like them." You such in a sharp breath, wiping your now-clammy hands on your jeans. "Like being around them. Yep, okay."

You stop abruptly, and Imogen glances at you with expectant, sparkly blue eyes. Her head tilts in the way you've always found so alluring, and she gestures with her hand in a way that says 'carry on' without words.

"Uh— yeah... just write about... all that, and—"

"Wait, keep going, please. This is great." You blow out a breath, and Imogen frowns. "Are you okay?"

Your skin prickles with goosebumps when Imogen picks up your hand and runs her thumb gently over your trembling hand.

"Wait, are you feeling okay?" She puts down her book and lays a hand on your cheek. "What's wrong? You've gone pale, babe."

"Oh... God, don't call me that right now."

You shove her hand away, and immediately notice her mouth fall slightly, a hurt look crossing her features. "I'm sorry, I—"

"No, no. No, don't be, just—" You quickly pick up your phone and stand up. "I need to get out of here."

"You're leaving? But—"

"I have to..." You mumble, then swing open her bedroom door. "I have to go home."

"Wait—" You hear Imogen rustling around as you run down the stairs.

Once you've reached the door and gotten outside, you close the door and lean against in for a quick breath. "Oh, my God."

"What just happened?" You hear Imogen's mother say from inside, her voice prompting you to starting running again.

As your pulse races and your body moves on impulse, your mind reels with the words you are certain were about to spill out of your mouth if you hadn't left when you did.

It's not as though you don't want to tell Imogen how you've been feeling for the past few weeks now... it's just incredibly daunting to think about what her reaction could be.

That night, you don't get any sleep whatsoever as your mind acts like a never-ending camera roll of possible ways a confession like that could have gone; all of the awful, perfect and heartbreaking ways.

"Ugh!"

—☆—

Taglist: @whereimwritingfrom @wqxianwriting @httphayn @imdoingbetternow (lmk if you want to be added or removed to all future imogen fics!!)

[ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa]

Situationship to Exes to Lovers [Saiouma Prompt]

Clown: Thinking about saiou being in the middle of completely mundane activities where shuichi casually brings up "I think I'm in love with you" And kokichi immeadiately responds with "You're insane" And they have this conversation like 6 times Ajsgdhdb I just want them to completely brush over it and continue on with whatever they were doing like nothing happened

Dra: Is it done for the "wait that was akward I'll just pretend it didn't happen" way or "I'm unlovable and will ignore it" way

Clown: Hmmm, in like the this is a fun fact we've both fully accepted but aren't ready/ don't feel the need to have a full discussion about it yet But it can be angst, as a treat

Dra: Aww,, waiting until ready my beloved

Beez: i interpreted this as like, theyre already dating, and its just a running inside joke between them kahdkshdjdk

Ves: "love you" "ur just trying to get my money huh" (he is broke) "love you" "YOU POISONED THIS DINNER DIDN'T YOU"

Clown: In the middle of a game of chess "I love you" "your psychological warfare is cheap, really."

Hina: Oh shit we all had different interpretations I thought that this was the first time he says it and it's just. "I love you.", "You're insane." And then they don't adress it, just comfortably live with it

Dra: They move in together and confirm nothing [!! emoji]

Ves: shuuichi knowing kokichi loves him back but he isn't ready to say it yet,,,,,

Clown: I really like the thought of it being really casual, they've found a place that's really comfortable with each other. Enough that shuichi doesn't think twice before casually dropping the bomb because it feels right. And there's no need to pursue it immediately because there's no rush, no judgment between them hehehehe Shuichi just does it whenever he feels like and there's no expectation attached to it because they'll keep going as they are for now

Dra: They comfy,,,,,,,,,

Clown: Okay so now we can angst it

Ves: insecure shuuichi,,,,,,,

Clown: Shuichi becoming really anxious at the lack of answers Maybe meanwhile ouma takes it mostly as shuichi joking around

Ves: i think when kokichi finally says it back it'd be sometime when he doesn't have to face it mumbled into the back of shuuichi's neck in bed..

Dra: Why is he like this [sob emoji]

Ves: terminal clown disease "haha wouldn't it be funny if you actually loved me??? ANYWAY" olympic sprinting from that commitment

Dra: Me @ him

[this wasn't necessary to include, but consider: funny to me]

Clown: Shuichis burying his face in his pillow after the 3rd time ouma seemingly brushes off his confession and meanwhile ouma is just. "Heh, he really though he could get me with that one, oldest trick in the book I'm 6 steps ahead-" Ouma is allergic to heart to hearts he's breaking out into hives

Dra: What would Shu gain from pretending to love him please [sob emoji]

Ves: his CRIMINAL EMPIRE smh dra his WEAKNESSES

Clown: The fact that he feels like he's losing is a crime in itself Shuichi stole his lunch money (feelings)

Ves: seriously though…shuuichi can't wait forever. bro better shape up or he's getting left

Clown: Shuichi starts to distance himself and ouma doubles down on trying to get his attention But its not working and he doesn't quite understand what he's done wrong Maybe shuichi just got tired of him too

Dra: Shu is in "You just want me to entertain you but never care for me back" mode now fuck

Me: oh, they're doomed

Ves: NOOOOOO THEY CAN MAKE UP I BELIEVE IN THEM

Dra: He also blames himself for being distant bc "I fell in love with him who cares if he just wants to use me at least we could spend time together"

Ves: shuuichi's gonna end up The One Who Got Away frrr he breaks the news of a job out of the country.. he leaves. they still never talk about it they basically cut contact but they can meet again years down the line bc i can't take them breaking up FOREVER

Clown: THEY HIT THE SPEEDRUN BUTTON They weren't even dating and they broke up, why are they like this [sob emoji]

Dra: How kicked puppy are they when away from each other

Ves: Maximum for at least a year kokichi never quite gets over it shuuichi moves on a lot more and then they do something stupid af like end up as coworkers

Dra: PETTY ARC

Ves: WOULD THEY BE,,,, i feel like it'd be more awkward and sad kokichi never forgave himself yknow yknow

Dra: I think he'd be "You left me" to Shu a lil

Clown: he tried to confess to him before shuichi left but circumstances made it so shuichi couldn't hear him

Ves: OKAY BUT HE'S GOTTA BE BETTER NOW OR ELSE THEYRE NEVER GETTING TOGETHER- DICE bullied kokichi into therapy after he turned into goo post-breakup okay. he's a leeeettle better at communication now

Dra: One of them sees the other crying over something and they just hug for way too long instead of talking

Ves: they get tipsy at a company bonding outing

Dra: They fall asleep clinging to each other !!

Beez: its the best sleep theyve had in ages /hj

Clown: Okay, okay. Shuichi arriving at the company post a messy breakup who's wary as all hell about hanging around ouma again. He doesn't wanna be hurt again. But its so easy to fall right back into the place he had with ouma and bicker despite the lingering tension. Ouma is post neet era. Took him a bit to accept help from dice and friends but he's finally breaking in there. Shuichi lighthearted asks about his plans to rule the world with his orginazation and ouma shrugs and says "I guess we grew up." They don't talk about anything until the alcohol lmao They're dapper buisness men at a soul sucking company I'm assuming aksbdkdh Where do they work actually??

Ves: i was assuming a detective agency

Dra: And what do they talk about when drunk enough [eyes emoji]

Ves: the good mediocre old times? "we were real stupid back then huh. wanna make out"

Dra: Did Ko become a detective too help

Ves: IT'S ONE OF THE BEST JOBS FOR HIM I'LL DIE ON THIS HILLLLL

Dra: They get fired for this/j [making out]

Ves: they hide in a corner it's fine

Clown: Fully silly speedrun one night stand that they both don't know how to deal with and now they're working on a case together whose events they're going to metaphorically link to their current lives/j

Hina: "This murder is just like the death of our relationship"

Ves: "see how these people didn't communicate, kokichi?? SEE WHAT HAPPENED TO THEM???????"

Dra: Who wakes up/gets sober first [eyes emoji]

Ves: kokichi unfortunately shuuichi is a Squeezer so no escaping for him <333

Clown: He's going to jump out a window to escape alshsk

Ves: NUH UH he tries but shuuichi wakes up they cook breakfast together. it's. An Experience

Dra: They get eggshells in the yolk because fuck them/pl

Ves: these eggshells are also a metaphor for their-[GETS SHOT]

Me: Shuichi waking up groggily, what could he mumble to destroy Kokichi who's already been dying for half an hour?

Dra: An ex's name/j

Me: noooo that's not how I meant it!

Ves: an old petname

Me: YESSS

Ves: for a minute he doesn't even realize all those years've passed,,,,, kokichi's hair is still FUCKING ITCHY-

Hina: No but this was my first thought too It was that or "This was a mistake" Or even "Who are you?"

Ves: THIS IS MEANT TO BE THEIR RECONCILIATION GUYS WGAT THE FUCK

Me: that's as far off from what I wanted as it gets, I was trying to think of something cheesy with extra cheese, like "you stayed,,," is not enough

Dra: He says darling in the most eepy voice ever methinks

Hina: Or even just a "Stay…"

Ves: my goto for Maximum Sap is bunny but i know that makes some people cringe SNDJSBHDFJBGF….hitting him with darling could be an instakill… is he aware of the situation or is it more of a 'nooooo it's too early babe,,,,'

Me: something that was more personal to them, a pet name that clearly has a story behind it unaware, more than half asleep

Ves: if there has to be a Story than i am once again proposing bnuy

Dra: While yes they definitely have that Saiou are also the type of mfs to call each other a random object for the funnies and it sticks

Me: that counts as having a story and being something specific to them

Ves: i maintain that all their petnames start out Stupid

Clown: Called him bunny because ouma wouldn't stop trying to eat cardboard/j

Ves: it was their pens and cords actually. but i think he'd try cardboard if you put it in his hands when he was distracted enough but also a random object? does shuuichi just wake up and say paperclip?

Dra: Yes

Checkers: Kokichi starts calling him Baby Carrot

Ves: did i tell you about the 'punk' one i watch a streamer who apparently started calling her husband pumpkin -> then punkin -> then just punk. i know this because when he comes in the room she says PUNK!! in the most affectionate voice and it's hilarious every time very saioucoded

Clown: Shuichi lovingly calling ouma "punk" beloved

Clown: Okay, so saiou waking up together. Do they talk about it? Or is it an unspoken thing? And will there be a dramatic scene where ouma is physically ripped from his silly little dodging commitment Era when there's a real threat he might lose shuichi forever? /hj

Dra: Maybe not forever but something happens and Shu might have to leave again and he DOES NOT want that

Clown: Ajsgdjdh I was gonna shoot shuichi BUT YES

Me: it was a christmas office party and they got snowed in together I'm talking like. Snowstorm hits as they're eating breakfast, Ouma is watching his plans of leaving asap after they eat and not touching any heavy topics slip through his fingers as it's howling against the windows

Ves: ah, getting snowed in…mother nature's get along sweater the discussion is very stilted but it HAPPENS okay and then they kith <3

Dra: What if they like. Use metaphors. It's hard to actually talk about it so they pretend they're only talking about the weather

Ves: shuuichi starts it as a way to give kokichi an out but still make him Talk

Clown: Shuichi finding ways to get what he wants without sacrificing ouma's lying shield YES

Ves: they communicate strangely but they still do

Dra: Something something "The windows can't hold the snow out forever, they'll either need stronger support or the wind should be considerate and calm down" (I knew you weren't ready but it kept hurting me when you avoided me and I couldn't take it anymore.)

Ves: as the serious conversation (and coded apologies) eases down it just gets. Silly bad adult film dialogue they're both giggling like 'hmmm maybe the wind should get on over here then-' 'i sure like the feeling of the wind on my face' and they just double over wheezing they're so fucking annoying <3 their coworkers have a bigger storm coming than the snow one smh it turns out they're insanely good at solving cases together. but GOD are they obnoxious-

Dra: PDA is officially in

Clown: Everyone's walked in on them making out in the closet at least once

Dra: Imagine them praising each other in the already small cubicles after solving cases sjgjdj

Ves: i am a coworker kinnie now. if i have to hear about shuuichi's massive sexy throbbing wrinkly brain one more time i set off the fucking bombs they are communicating their affection TOO MUCH!!! GO BACK [after everyone starred it] so ur enjoyers of shuuichi's sexy brainmeat then????????

Hina: NO Shuichi Saihara is not sexy

Ves: -kokichi, in the denial phase

Dra: They call each other partner. Work and gay

Dra: They solve a really heavy case together and it impacts one of them and hurt comfort,, Points at Shu He can relive the first case tm methinks

Ves: he stumbles away from the scene and kokichi chases after to let him hide his eyes in his neck just huggin on the curb,, he doesn't want anybody to look at him :((

Dra: Can they be silly for a moment,, Kokichi tells him to close his eyes and just guides him until Shu feels better

Ves: he slaps his little babyhands over shuuichi's face "cmon, cmon, don't you trust me??"

Dra: Makes him walk into stuff for the funny/j

Apollo: Ngl, I love the 'guess we just grew up stuff' because you can angst it so fucking hard if you try hard enough

Like they always talked about ruling the world but they actually meant making a safe space for misfits like them. They wanted to change the world for the better and if at least one kid didn't have to go through what they did, it meant they'd won.

Shuichi knows this and to hear Kokichi say it was all just childish wishes? It hurts so much because Shu knows that he can help people. Hell, he's done it by becoming a detective.

Yet he gave up so easily… He's not the Kokichi he left behind that's for sure

Shuichi doesn't know how to react. Here's the guy who broke his heart (by accident mind you) who had an honestly noble dream and he just…Gave up. Kokichi Ouma gave up on something.

Now imagine this. DICE also broke up. They all decided it was time to grow up and felt they couldn't if they stayed in their silly little clown group

They have some contact with each other but have sorta drifted away like multiple friendship groups do Kokichi pretends it doesn't hurt him as much as it does

Shuichi doesn't know how to react. He can tell it hurts but he also knows Kokichi will deny it.

Theres also a tiny sick part of him that wonders if it's a good thing Kokichi is suffering at the breakup of his group because Kokichi broke his heart. Shuichi hates that part of him

LIKE A SMALL PART THINKS IT'S KARMA THEN HE WANTS TO PUNCH HIMSELF BECAUSE YEAH KOKICHI PLAYED WITH HIS FEELINGS OR WHATEVER BUT DICE WAS KOKICHI'S FAMILY AND NOW THEY'VE SPLIT UP AND KOKICHI IS THROWINFG HIMSELF INTO HIS WORK TO AN ALMOST UNHEALTHY DEGREE TO DISTRACT FROM THE LONELYNESS AND PAIN

Clown: AND PART OF HIM IS RIGHT. EVEN OUMA THINKS SO. HE KNOWS WELL ENOUGH THAT OUMA WAS ENTIRELY CAPABLE OF NOT BEING GOOD. Sometimes Ouma sucks and sometimes that has consequences. It doesn't mean he hasn't learned, but it also doesn't mean those effects went away. Ouma blames himself for a lot and somehow it hurts a bit to come to the understanding ouma's feelings aren't that far off from his own in that case They're better now tho

Apollo: They're better but it takes time Shuichi is glad that Kokichi had gotten better but those consequences are low-key permanent but at the same time, that's life Shu gives him a big hug though when he finally breaks down over it all

Clown: With ouma slowly growing distant to dice to the point where they rarely talk…I think it would partially be his own fault too.

They're family, they'll never not love each other. But they have their own lives, own goals, own families now. And so they'll never be as close as they were when the corralled behind ouma as their leader. Its a big change. And there's only so much they can do when their schedules conflict or Ouma doesn't respond to their texts.

They know Ouma, you don't spend a good chunk of your formative years together and don't learn something. And what they've learned is that ouma has to do it by himself.

He has to make the effort to reach out to them, he has to start extending his hand out to them again. They'll be waiting for when he does

Shuichi being the first push into getting him to do that and rebuild his family, its different now, but its just as good

Apollo: With Shuichi, there was no promise that he'd be coming back nor a promise he'd answer any messages but DICE? DICE was with him through thick and thin and know how his mind ticks.

They know that despite not talking to them for ages, he still cares about them.

He just doesn't want to bother them is all but thanks to reconnecting with Shuichi, he's able to reach out to them and become apart of their lives again

Ves: he's pushed himself out of his heartbroken NEET era and reconnected with shuuichi but DICE is harder DICE are divided on Shuuichi Opinions on the one hand it was super kokichi's fault they broke up. on the other SHUUICHI BROKE HIS HEART >:(

Apollo: Kokichi's right hand man eventually pulls Shu to the side to talk everything out and reminds him of how unused Kokichi is to being cared for by people other than DICE and that's why he never said 'I love you' back and just treated it like a joke. He wasn't used to be loved and still isn't in a way that's not family

Ves: "also he never got over you and if you leave him again i think he might actually die. good luck!" /J/J kokichi is so demi to me it's crazyyy he has no idea how tf to handle romantic love (or how to get over it!) it's not something that's supposed to Happen to him

Apollo: Poor Shuichi though. He got to move on and Kokichi never did

Ves: he mentions someone he dated in those intervening years and kokichi is so violently reminded of his miserable lonely NEET time that he makes up a guy

Apollo: He's just fumbling to describe this guy and Shuichi just nods along

Ves: HAHA YEAH WE BOTH HAD A LOT OF FUN HUH. LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY VERY REAL VERY SEXY EX JEFFERSON RYAN GRANT HE HAS. SKIN. AND HAIR

Apollo: "Oh and we totally did alllll the sex!" "Sure Ko."

Ves: hey so they were just in an unnamed roommates situationship before right did they even HAS KOKICHI OUMA EVER KNOWN THE TOUCH OF ANOTHER

Apollo: HE'S A NEET THE HELL DO YOU THINK? /J

Ves: HE WASN'T BEFORE HE ENTERED NEET ARC OUT OF HEARTBREAK THEY HAD A BREAKUP THAT MESSY AND DIDN'T EVEN FUCK!?

Apollo: DO YOU THINK KOKICHI 'CAN'T TELL PEOPLE MEAN IT WHEN THEY SAY THEY LOVE HIM' OUMA FUCKED SOMEONE?

Ves: this is so embarrassing for him was. was that drunk one night stand his FIRST TIME?????????

Apollo: OH GOD WAS IT? IMAGINE HIM TELLING SHU THAT YEAH WE WERE DRUNK AND YOU TOOK MY V CARD Shuichi just pauses because he knew Kokichi had becoem a NEET after he left but he somehow didn't expect this Shuichi said Let's get drunk and throw out that card /j

Me: no… I was under the full assumption that they did, and were dating, Kokichi just didn't believe Shuichi loves him & didn't say he loves him because of that, the pet name scene doesn't make sense otherwise, it was because he was thrown back to waking up together

Apollo: Me waking up every morning: How can I ruin the Pit's day today?

Me: today by trying to make Ouma a virgin, apparently, but I won't let you they fucked, I know this in my heart, it's okay of course they were fucking, they were roommates, fucking is a lot easier than talking about feelings bet they even had a situation (or multiple) when things escalated that way as to avoid talking about feelings, Kokichi kissing him so he doesn't have to reply to something

Ves: you can ABSOLUTELY have a petname for ur roommate but i see the vision actually. ouma using physical affection to avoid verbal,,,OUGH

Me: yeah, but it's about waking up together and slipping into the old act because he's done it many times it just felt so familiar to wake up this way that he said it without thinking!!!

Clown: Thinking about ouma calling one of the dices members for the first time in a long while and they don't yell at him, they aren't even disappointed. They just start immediately gushing about how wow! They have so much to talk about. And ouma has a moment where he finds they've grown so much without him realizing. He doesn't have to protect them anymore. And they're having lunch on a Saturday and a weight falls of his shoulders for the first time in a while

Apollo: Kokichi gives a wobbly smile and they ask what's wrong and he says he's so relieved they're doing so well and that he missed them. He gets teased for being a sap despite them tearing up as well One of his former classmates is also at the cafe and is just like Fuck they're back together Maki screaming internally because Kokichi knows where she works

Clown: What crimes will they commit? Maki Cafe worker real??? :0

Apollo: Kokichi makes the worst sugar riddled drinks. He just grins while requesting the worst thing ever

Clown: He can't even finish them half the time he's just doing it out of spite

[ravenelyx]

I love you in every timeline - Chapter 4: The Repertoire of Memory is Worn

← Prologue

← Chapter 3

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Words: 8.8k

Chapter Warnings: pining, some angst, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name use for reader, some swearing, use of 2nd person for the reader, book dialogue

Summary: "It was as clear as day, no matter how many times he had brought his tie to his nose in the days that followed, that you had no interest in him.". In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: Basically a therapy session for him

You can read the whole fanfiction here on ao3

"The repertoire of your memory has shown me you yourself before you left. There were names of various countries, dates and sojourns and at the end a blank white page, but with rows of dots…as if to suggest, if it were possible: ‘to be continued’." -Eugenio Montale, The Repertoire

Perhaps he should have given the Gryffindor Prefects less credit after all. He should take back the bonus sapphires he had reluctantly given to the red gryphon for his "hospitality."

Because at that moment, it felt anything but.

He remembered the look Hermione had given you when you were about to tell him your deepest, darkest secret.

Okay, maybe that's too far-fetched.

But your tone of voice and the look in your eyes clearly showed that whatever you wished to disclose to him wasn't something you would have told Umbridge... or any other less preposterous teacher either.

He wasn't looking for validation, nor was he fishing for pity.

But maybe he did wish to be seen.

All things considered, no one in his new circle of friends — which looked more like a segment and a dot, given he didn't yet know where he stood with you — knew of his misadventure, nor of the reason he occasionally tugged at his sleeves when the cardigan itched at his wrists.

He wanted to tell Daphne.

He wanted to tell you.

He wanted to tell everyone.

Hell, he'd have even told Draco Malfoy if it meant that at least someone would acknowledge his standing, no matter how asinine and annoying their comments might be.

"...unless it's absolutely necessary," he recalled. But where was it that he could draw the line between necessary and extremely-and-idiotically-self-indulgent?

It had been two weeks since the Artefact had brought him there. Two weeks in which he hadn't seen Ominis or Anne — not that they wanted him around anyway. Two weeks without hearing her voice. Two weeks in which you hadn't visited the Undercroft, not even once.

He was there all the time, much to his dismay. If he sat there long enough, he could almost pretend nothing had really changed. He could almost trick himself into waiting for her to walk in and practise Confringo with him. He could almost hear Ominis and Anne's laughter as the Gobstones splashed him with their juice.

Almost.

He wanted to ask you to practise some spells with him there. Maybe, just maybe, if you placed your body at a certain angle and shrugged off your Gryffindor robes, he could see her.

Your hair was shorter. Just a little.

He had noticed it the day before when you'd turned around to collect your potion ingredients, and it had been eating at him ever since. Stupid, really, because your hair should have been the last point on his list of discrepancies between you two.

As demonstrated by your escapade in the Library, it was quite obvious that, aside from some physical features and your last name, you two were like chalk and cheese.

"I can be sneaky, let's go," she had said, naively.

"Hold on, now," he had answered her with a small, knowing smile.

"Is it always this easy to sneak in?" he heard his voice say again.

"The Library is closed at this hour, so no. It's not."

"You said the librarian would be gone by now!"

"I said usually!"

"It's five to eight. That means we have twenty minutes, at max , before Madam Pince returns," and he had nodded in understanding.

He took a loud, deep breath that sounded more like a choked gasp.

Everything felt wrong. Everything was wrong. It felt like the Universe (or that damn Supreme Being that had been toying with him since he arrived in this world) had swapped your places. And the more he looked at you, the less he saw her.

And that scared him.

Because if one thing was true about Sebastian Sallow, it was that he was a selfish, heedless bastard when it came to matters of the heart, and if the only way to have her back by his side was to love her vicariously through you, he wasn't going to budge.

But now he was starting to notice too many differences, and not just on a physical level. Because while he could ignore your eyes, especially when you were facing away from him, or the birthmark near your lip, or the crease which only showed when you drew your eyebrows together, he couldn't ignore your lacking presence in the Slytherin Common Room, or your sagacity and boldness, or your confidence and wit, or the way you appeared to know how everything worked to the brim.

Or how you always seemed to be one step ahead of him.

And yet, he had to reluctantly admit that he didn't completely hate it.

And that scared him, too. If not more so.

Because he felt like he was doing her a disservice by admiring you.

Sebastian wasn't stupid, he knew that the reason his heart leapt at your mere presence wasn't because of some real-life fairy tale about love at first sight: he'd never doubted that what was going on in his nervous system (and in his stomach, which for some reason couldn't get rid of those stings) was just the result of poor emotion regulation and transference (and also a form of intrigue, though he wouldn't admit it out loud). He was extremely self-aware, he prided himself on that, but in the last year, when he had let his feelings take the reins of his body, the results had almost always been disastrous.

And he was sure that this time would be no different.

So he thought back to his promise. To stay away from you, as he told himself. To find out what had happened to her, and then to ignore your presence and existence as best he could.

But how could he ignore you when you were everywhere now?

There had been days when he had scrubbed his hand more than once to get rid of your drawing, only to regret it the next day when he saw it fading more and more.

And so it went on, an alternating nightmare.

Two weeks of it.

He often caught himself staring at the seat next to him on the sofa near the fireplace in the Common Room: the seat where she always sat. Now Daphne occupied it most of the time.

"What are you staring at?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are my hips funny or ...?"

"What? No," he snapped out of it, and averted his eyes, only now realising exactly where he was staring.

To anyone else, it would have looked like he was gawking shamelessly. But it was Daphne he was talking to: some days she seemed to know him better than he knew himself. She was bloodily perspective in her own way, and he was more than willing to open up to her, against his better judgement.

If it weren't for her loose blonde hair and bright blue eyes, he would have seen Anne in her.

He seemed to be forgetting that it wasn't only you whom he shouldn't get attached to too much.

"I just spaced out."

She clicked her tongue as she smudged a little on her diagram. "I suppose the Chinese Chomping Cabbages aren't exactly piquing your interest, are they?"

He watched thoughtfully as she struggled against the ink, and the only answer he graced her with was a guttural sound at the back of his throat. She seemed too distracted to care.

"Why won't it stop dripping?" The blonde hissed, annoyed, and Sebastian half-smiled in amusement.

And then he reached into his pocket.

"Try this."

Daphne furrowed her eyebrows and picked up the weird stick he was holding.

"Is this a new kind of wand or…? Didn't know Ollivander had stepped up his game."

He rolled his eyes. "It's a pen. A… A muggle invention. Just press it on the paper and write. You won't need ink."

She looked at it suspiciously, as if asserting that it wasn't a Zonko product that would spray her with Bouncing Spider Juice when she least expected it. In the end, she seemed to trust him enough and shrugged.

And so she did as she was told.

"My, my!" The girl grinned. "You know I'm going to steal this from you, right?"

There was a pang in his chest, and his breath was cut short at the idea. He remembered the playful twinkle in your eyes and your smile as you handed him that same pen.

"No you won't," he retorted, his voice trembling slightly more than he had hoped.

"Ho ho," she said, keeping the pen tight in her hand and biting her lip to stop a sly grin from breaking onto her face. "Why not? Is it… special?"

He took in a sharp breath. "No. It's just my first muggle object… and I want to enjoy it."

"Your first muggle object, is it?" She shook her head. "You took it for a tattoo-making tool as well then, I reckon?"

"Tattoo-what?"

"Those weird marks Muggles draw on their skin. Permanently," Daphne shook her head, emphasising the last word disapprovingly. "But yours wasn't permanent, which means..."

"Mine? What are you talking about?" The boy leaned back on the armrest. "I've never visited a Muggle - er - tattoo-maker."

She sighed, seemingly exasperated, but her small, teasing smile told him otherwise. He felt cold sweat run down his spine.

"It might be gone now, but I remember that weird circle on your hand, and I don't suppose you've drawn it yourself, so either you joined a cult or… someone else who would possess muggle objects drew it for you."

He flushed and hid his hand by instinct, even if now the skin was smooth and unblemished again.

Just how perspective was Daphne Greengrass? Or was he just far too easy to read?

"I joined a cult."

She broke into a laugh. "Alright, then. I won't steal your most prized possession from you."

He loved and hated talking to her at the same time.

Sebastian watched musingly as his friend twirled the item in her hand, stopping now and then to draw symbols and write short words on the worn parchment, and he thought back to the wide range of abstruse sketches on your notebook, and on how he wished you would take that same notebook with you to the Undercroft when you would finally accept his invitation to study together.

He tried in vain to pull himself out of that reverie, to finally come to terms to what it really was: a whim he shouldn't indulge in. What was really important, and the only reason he should keep you in his company, was to find out what happened to her, what had made the wizarding world repute her achievements perfunctory and irrelevant enough to enshroud her existence to everyone.

It was a rickety plan you were both treading on, going from pillar to post those last few days with no success. You had told him you had visited the Restricted Section again, but that the only book who made mention of Ancient Magic had just said something about the hides of dragons and their protection.

His heart broke a little upon knowing you felt the need to do that alone without sending for him to accompany you: he thought you were in this together. On the whole, though, you had only been the bearer of bad news, but despite the crushing weight of repeated failures, he wouldn't acquiesce to the sinking reality of the impasses you were piling up. He was as stubborn as a mule and intended to remain so.

As always, you got away with no one being the wiser. He could not help but be envious and enticed at the same time.

Sebastian had always felt like he knew everything: what other people thought, what his environment was like and, above all, what he himself was like. He had an assertiveness that few people could master and many would emulate. He knew exactly what to say to make people tick. He knew better than anyone how the school worked. He had studied its rules and guidelines, and knew exactly how to put one over on them when he needed to.

And yet he had got caught.

You hadn't.

Neither that time, nor the previous times.

Now, he had kept Tracey Nettlebed at bay by fulfilling her stupid requests, and that seemed to prevent her from telling what happened that morning — how she knew was still a mystery to him — but, to anyone other than Sebastian, Daphne and Tracey, you still looked as if butter wouldn't melt in your mouth.

He wasn't even sure the Professors would believe Tracey if she had — as people around Hogwarts said — "dashed the dirt" on you two, given how much of a blabbermouth she was, but Dean definitely would have, and that was the reason you had been so adamant not to let your adventure out in the open.

So, despite his own reluctance in having to ask you to get those Snackboxes-whatever from the Gryffindor Common Room whenever Tracey cornered him near the slithery entrance of his own — and the constant twitching of his left eye whenever you mentioned said boy — he had decided to push his own qualms (and feelings) to the side and had yielded to your wishes.

He hadn't properly told you Tracey's exact words — having learned a bit later that the shocked expression you had worn, which had made the pit of his stomach drop to his knees, was due more to the fourth-year's tone of voice and threatening look when she'd said his name than to the 'your little crush' remark — and he had absolutely no intention of doing so.

It was as clear as day, no matter how many times he had brought his tie to his nose in the days that followed, that you had no interest in him.

And his marks on cricket darts seemed as appealing as squeezing Bubotuber Pus from its plant with his bare hands.

In the end, the house elves had been quicker, and had probably had enough of him and that damned tie lying biasedly on his bed day after day, and managed to snatch it and launder it properly.

The avocado was gone.

As he looked over at the girl copying her diagram — or, more specifically, at her hand to assure the pen wouldn't disappear into thin air — the familiar feeling of holes being bored into his head came back. He grimaced.

"Look behind me, see if she's staring," he whispered to Daphne, and the blonde lifted her head slightly to peer over his shoulder.

"She is."

He gave a world-weary sigh and rolled his eyes once more. "She is going to ask me for those damn boxes again."

"I say you cast Obliviate on her and end this nightmare."

His lip twitched up.

"Tough when you have to salvage your crush's reputation and hide her escapades from her other crush." She continued with an exaggerated sigh.

He grabbed the heaviest pillow he could find and threw it at her head, while she brought her hands up to protect her face. She laughed as her hair flew everywhere.

"Alright alright, sorry." She took a loud breath. "But seriously, I think Tracey might have been following you to know all that."

"Would you have guessed?" He replied sarcastically. "Stupid Library date, stupid Dean—"

"Is that what you asked of her? Where to find Dean?"

He cleared his throat and looked away.

"You know it's funny that if it weren't for Tracey, you two would have never been caught. Gryffindors have been outdoing us lately."

That was a low blow — not that Daphne knew any better.

Because in a way, in his twisted, homesick, lovestruck mind, that could just as easily add to the competition between you and her.

"What do you mean?"

"Let's say some people have been… tarnishing our reputation…" She shot a glance behind them and he followed her gaze to Malfoy and his group. "While Gryffindors are prospering with all kinds of renegades. Harry Potter for once: he has been basically rewriting the rules of this school ever since he arrived. Ron Weasley, his best friend? might appear a bit as a nitwit, but I assure you he's lost more points in his first year than I did in five of my own. Even Hermione Granger is a little sly one, despite her goody-two-shoes image. And the Weasley twins… don't get me started on them. They are the inventors of the Skiving Snackboxes your little friend loves so much: the Weasley products have been thriving in this school."

He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest, and hoped Daphne had forgotten about you, but she had decided to twist the knife deeper — inadvertently of course.

"Not to mention…" and she knowingly quirked her head to the side, lifting her eyebrows in the meantime, "she's just as reckless and slightly more cunning. If she hadn't been a Muggle-born, I'm pretty sure she would be sitting in my place on this sofa right now."

That wasn't a low blow, that was a whole punch in his gut. Part of him wanted the girl to just stop talking.

Part of him wanted to know more.

"What makes you say that?"

She shrugged. "Well, she was almost a Hatstall, after all. The hat kept going back and forth between the two."

His throat did a strange thing, blowing out air so quickly he choked on his breath. He tried to cough as quietly as he could.

"S-So… she could have been a Slytherin?" He asked, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Daphne seemed to ponder.

"To be honest… I think she could have. But I don't really see her as an ambitious gal, do you? I think she is a perfect Gryffindor after all…"

He nodded absent-mindedly.

Yet another thing he added to his list.

-

"Why have you never visited the Undercroft?"

"I—"

To tell the truth, you had wanted to... but only when he wasn't there. Good old inquiry for your worries and doubts.

But he was there all the time.

Whenever you approached the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower, you would see him wandering about, looking ever-so-suspicious as he pretended to strut nonchalantly through the hidden corridor.

He stood out like a Thestral in a herd of Unicorns.

It was a sight to see, really.

Once you had even approached him just as he was drawing his wand, and he had jumped up in alarm, as if you were a Muggle who had just seen him walk through the enchanted wall in King's Cross.

For a moment you thought he was going to erase your memories like some common Ministry minion.

He had obviously invited you in, with an expression on his face that you couldn't quite decipher: too welcoming and too afraid.

And a bit too hopeful.

But eventually you had to decline his offer, fearing another ambush by his fellow Rita Skeeter-wannabe Slytherin, and walked away.

You weren't quite sure what to make of the way his face seemed to fall faster than a Quidditch player hit by a bludger.

And whenever your separated Houses graced you with different planned lessons and, consequently, different free periods, it was either Umbridge strutting in that same corridor (albeit with a bit more authority and self-assurance than your classmate), Hermione dragging you back to the Common Room or the Library to study, or Fred and George cornering you to recruit you as a test subject for their new projects (from which you always managed to scurry away much to the twins' displeasure) that ruined your plans.

You were on your way to the Astronomy Tower when you saw the familiar head of messy brown waves walk towards you. And all your terrible luck and, quite frankly, not-so-nice neglect of that place Sebastian seemed to hold at heart had led you to this conversation.

"I mean, of course you don't have to come in if you don't want to, I just…"

He seemed at a loss for words, searching his mind for a reason to give you why you should visit the Undercroft with him.

And the way his eyes darted around as he turned his head slightly to the right and upwards told you that he perhaps had at least one, but one he'd rather keep to himself.

You didn't inquire.

"It's not that, I've just been… busy. O.W.L.s and stuff," you replied.

It was the most conventional answer a fifth-year could come up with, and frankly, most of the time it was rubbish, a fib of the highest order: any Hogwarts student could see through that lie like they could see through the numerous ghosts wandering out and about, and yet it was a silent agreement between the younglings to accept it as a reasonably polite excuse that most likely meant, 'I don't want to hang out with you'.

(Perhaps Hermione was the only exception: she actually meant it, but she didn't need to use it as an excuse either, because she tended to make it everyone's business. In a way, she saved the grades of most of her friends that way.)

Sebastian didn't seem to catch on, though — perhaps it was due to a cultural difference from his old school, you suspected — and you were actually glad of it, but he definitely had his difficulties reading between the lines and recognising the underlying implication.

"You… We… We could study there, though? I mean, McGonagall did tell me I needed a tutor."

(He had no care for tutors, he could catch up damn well on his own, thank you very much… but you didn't need to know that now, did you?)

"Isn't the Library better for that? Less dusty…"

"Less private," he replied with a playful smile.

You shook your head and let a chuckle escape your lips at his beckoning.

"Maybe… I usually need a special kind of environment to concentrate. As of now, the only three places that have lived up to that expectation were the Library, the Beech Tree and the Common Room," you answered honestly.

"The more the merrier, no?" He encouraged hopefully.

You almost gave in.

Almost.

In a way, you needed to talk to him about something important — he deserved to know as much as everyone else.

But not that night.

"We'll see, I suppose," you answered awkwardly, averting your eyes from his, not missing the way his face fell again.

-

Just the day after, though, as Sebastian was wallowing in self-pity at your conversation, as Sebastian was conveniently looking away from you as you sat next to him in Potion, you slipped him a piece of parchment on the table.

He did his best to ignore it, even going as far as pretending to swat it away as he reached for his Beetle Eyes, but in the end he couldn't keep his curiosity at bay.

'We need to talk.'

It was simple. Simply enervating. Simply invigorating.

Simple enough to make the Beetle Eyes fall from his hand.

He saw you frown at him as he quickly bent down to pick them up off the floor, and he would have gladly disappeared if you hadn't followed him to help.

"Butterfingers, eh?" You teased.

He couldn't stop the small smile on his face.

"What did you need to talk about?" Sebastian followed you out of the classroom as your fellow students walked to the Great Hall for lunch.

He stared frontwards and saw Hermione's head turn left and right in bewilderment. When he looked over at you to ask what she was searching for, you were gone.

Now, if he had also started to hallucinate you, he would have considered it his last straw.

But then Hermione turned back and your hand appeared from Salazar-knows-where to grab at his robes and pull him into another corridor.

You looked around urgently, assessing that no one was in earshot, before you turned back to him and conspiratorially whispered: "Hermione doesn't want me to tell you this..."

His eyebrows shot up, and so did his ego.

So you were about to tell him, even if Hermione didn't want you to.

His heart began waltzing again, and he wondered what sort of secret you wanted to share with him that was so important you were willing to betray your friend’s trust for it.

"What is it?" He asked, trying to appear nonchalant and level-headed, but letting the façade drop when you didn't buy it.

"Are you willing to break some rules? Well… again, I mean."

Now that he wasn't expecting, and a thousand scenarios of what 'breaking some rules again' meant for you crossed his mind.

He imagined another escapade in the Restricted Section, this time with no Tracey following you, but maybe involving that same wardrobe.

Or perhaps a journey into the Forbidden Forest, meeting Thestrals, fighting giant spiders, kissing against the trees.

He slapped his forehead and you flinched a bit.

"I'll… take that as a no?"

"I'm very keen on breaking rules," he moved that same hand through his hair, trying his best to ignore how stupid he must look with a red print the shape of his palm on his face, "just… er... just what do you mean?"

Another part of him dismissed his earlier thoughts of any intimacy and imagined you asking him to follow you on some sort of cloak-and-dagger adventure; imagined teaching you curses and spells, telling you his every thought and having you sharing yours in return, showing you every side of magic he was willing to explore still.

He wanted to pretend that you would follow him into the deep, dark abyss of immorality and sin, that you would take the Cruciatus Curse for him if he had asked, that you would forgive him if he had told you about Solomon, that you would stand by his side even after his soul had been warped and infected and lost, and that you would do your best to put it back together and keep it with you, safe in your arms.

Of course, that's not what happened.

"We're thinking about having secret Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons and we are supposed to meet this weekend in Hogsmeade to discuss the details. I figured, since you hate Umbridge just as much as the next person, that you deserved a chance."

His mouth fell open. Secret lessons?

"Like a secret club, or…?” He couldn’t help but think of Lucan Brattleby and how Crossed Wands would suffer without his presence. If any of them even noticed.

“We’re not sure yet, it's barely an idea. It’s just... you know how Umbridge has been treating our education, and given what has happened in the past few years, and especially last year, I think we should all be prepared for what’s out there.”

What's out there? Last year? How much did he still have to catch up on?

He knew about some Dark Wizard being around — Ron and Hermione had explained all about it his first day — but the way you spoke about it, the whole ordeal seemed far more serious than he had anticipated.

“Sure, count me in,” he simply said, clasping one hand in the other.

“Then we’ll meet this weekend and go to Hogsmeade together. Mind you, let’s stay away from Hermione at first, or she’ll become suspicious: it's better to ease her into the news once she has no way to moot… or argue.”

Sebastian didn’t want to let his thoughts wander.

But there was a certain word flying around in his mind that he desperately tried to keep under key.

“Is this a date?” He asked with a playful grin, letting the key fall with a clang.

You rolled your eyes. “Tell me why I knew you’d say that.”

That should have made him feel somewhat proud, but he only felt a painful twinge in his heart. Is that all you thought of him?

He bit the inside of his cheek.

“Do you have your permission slip?” You asked him, and he shrugged.

“I’m sure I’ll manage.”

-

The day came, just like any day when you live in a world where clocks just won’t stop.

And Sebastian dearly wished they would.

You were a few steps ahead of him — a well-conceived strategy not to let Hermione have her suspicions — and he just couldn’t stop staring at your hair.

And how it should be just a bit longer.

He wanted to slap his forehead again, but that would have drawn too much attention to himself, and, honestly, he could do with less attention lately. He already had too many holes in his skull from Tracey’s piercing eyes.

Add another one right through his glabella from Filch.

After the caretaker had ungracefully leaned in towards Harry Potter to smell him, he was now eyeing Sebastian up and down like he was a rat who stole cheese right under his nose.

His permission slip was perfectly valid, though, as Dumbledore himself had guaranteed for him given the circumstances.

He walked a few feet behind you, with Daphne following suit.

"So it's a date, or…?" She gave him a smirk.

"Not really." He replied curtly as he remembered your words.

As you reached the outskirts of Hogsmeade, you seemed to have found an excuse to separate yourself from the group, and he said goodbye to Daphne who in turn went and joined another Slytherin boy, whom Sebastian recognised from that day in Charms.

As soon as the trio was far enough that you could barely distinguish their shapes, you motioned Sebastian to join you, and he did so with a grin and a bouncing of his feet.

And a growing shame in his bones once he realised it.

"Well well, looks like you will be my tutor after all?" He tilted his head and let a small, teasing smile play on his lips.

You weren't looking at him, though, but at the spot on the ground right next to him, scrutinising it like it was the most interesting place in the Highlands. Your eyes then began running up and down under a frown, inspecting the air. He turned his head, half-expecting to see someone standing next to him, or at least anything more than the flying, rusty leaves.

"Are you seeing something I'm not?" He asked half-jokingly.

And then it hit him. Maybe you were seeing something he wasn't — maybe some white drops dancing on the ground, maybe traces of Ancient Magic, maybe your gift was actually there, only dormant, maybe—.

"Was Daphne not interested?" You interrupted his musing, finally gracing him with eye contact.

His chest seemed to deflate. "What?"

"In the lessons, I mean. I expected her to be, perhaps I was wrong."

Sebastian hadn't told Daphne what his meeting with you was for: he had thought it was a secret between you two. Sure, he knew Hermione would be there, and if she was, so would Ron and Harry, but it would have been easier to steal you away from three people than more.

He had even planned the lessons in his mind like a madman, dreaming of the day when he could teach you everything you didn't already know yourself.

"Uh... she had something else to do."

You nodded in acknowledgement. "We're meeting at the Hog's Head. It's a bit more hidden and away from prying eyes. No one would mind if a bunch of students suddenly came in there."

A bunch? How many people were supposed to intrude?

It's not intruding, he reminded himself. This wasn't his idea. He was the one intruding.

"Fine by me… so, how many people are we talking about?"

"A few… could be ten, could be twenty…" you shrugged.

That was a great deal more than a few.

"Good… all right…"

There was a beat of silence as the two of you set foot on the High Street.

“So, I had promised Hermione I’d meet them beforehand, so you’ll either come with me and witness her wrath, or you’ll come in with everybody else and endure the ugly stares they're going to throw your way.”

The boy stared at you for a moment. “You have an awful way of making people feel welcomed.”

"I'm glad," you smiled and cocked your head to the side. He sighed.

"Wouldn't I get ugly stares nonetheless?"

"Yes, probably, but in that case I'll be there, and I'll guarantee for you."

"I'll send you an owl next time I'll face trial in front of the Wizengamot."

You turned your head away with a dampened smile.

There were a few new houses around the village and fewer shops than in his time, at least on the main street.

"I assume the school has been lending you its supplies in the past two weeks?" You asked.

"It has, but McGonagall has advised me to buy my own earliest opportunity."

"Well, seems like an opportunity to me," you grinned up at him. "Come on, let's indulge in some calm before the storm."

He gave a low chuckle.

The two of you walked through the town, stopping every once in a while to greet other students or shop for supplies. He had a limited budget — he didn’t have his own money after all — and made sure to pay extra attention to the prices.

You didn't comment on it for which he was glad.

"Are those the infamous Weasley twins?" Sebastian asked when a tall, red-haired boy sent you a wave from the entrance of Zonko's Joke Shop.

"That's Fred, the other is George. Infamous, huh?" You waved back.

So they were the Fred and George you had mentioned.

After a last stop at J. Pippin's Potions, you suddenly turned towards him.

"It's time, I believe."

He felt the hairs stand on his neck and nodded, following you to a side street, towards a small, scruffy Inn with the picture of a severed boar’s head over its entrance sign.

“That looks cosy,” you muttered and pushed the door open.

Now he could understand the fuss about that Gryffindor boldness, because he would have happily hesitated outside a bit more.

Sebastian followed suit, stepping on the soft ground of the pub. He frowned slightly and looked down, confused as to why one would deprive himself of the privilege of a stone floor.

It turned out the only privilege the owner deprived himself of was hygiene.

“This place hasn’t been cleaned in centuries, has it?” He asked, kicking the dirt with the point of his shoes.

“Adds to the aesthetic I suppose.” You chuckled, handing him a dusty, dirty bottle of Butterbeer.

He frowned. “No glass?”

“Oh I don’t think you want a glass,” you sent a glance to the dirty rug resting in the transparent cups on the counter, “might as well chug from the bottle like real cool drunks.”

You cleaned the top with your sleeve and brought it between your teeth, cracking it open. He did the same.

“If only it were alcoholic.”

“Everything can be alcoholic if you bring extra aid.”

He chuckled, and then reached for his pocket. “How much do I owe you?”

“Just be quiet and let me do the talking. That’s my prize,” you whispered, sending a glance to the trio sitting at the far end of the bar, hidden behind the wall at the entrance which was mercifully still shielding you two from your ugly fate.

“Here goes nothing,” and you stepped forward, letting the three Gryffindors see you. Sebastian followed right after.

And while the trio seemed happy to see you, their expressions quickly changed upon landing eyes on the Slytherin boy. They sent you a look of disappointment and confusion that sent chills down his spine.

“Before you say a word,” you began, placing the dusty bottle on the table, “let me explain.”

“It was supposed to be private,” Hermione said between gritted teeth.

“No,” you interjected, now getting worked up. “You said it was open to anyone who wanted to learn, and he —” you pointed at the boy behind you, who would have most surely liked to be swallowed by the filthy ground under him, “— wants to learn.”

He gave them a tight-lipped smile, mustering as much poise and politeness as he could.

“But he… he’s —”

“He’s what?” You cocked an eyebrow daringly. “A Slytherin? Who gives a damn.”

Sebastian flinched at your harshness, but his chest warmed up nonetheless… and no, it wasn’t because of the Butterbeer. Hermione seemed to deflate in her seat, gasping once or twice before finally yielding.

“Fine… I— I suppose if you trust him…”

“I do.” You interrupted, and scooted closer to him for good measure. He couldn't have stopped his face from flushing even if he wanted to.

Harry and Ron only glanced at each other with wide eyes and buried their attention in the bottle in their hands.

"Well, that was easy enough," Sebastian whispered to you once you sat down, making sure the trio wouldn't be able to hear his words.

"Shut up. My heart's beating in my face," you sighed slowly, taking place next to him and downing half of your bottle in one go. He suppressed a chuckle, and you nudged his arm with your elbow in protest.

"You have Butterbeer on your lips," he observed, his lips stretched into a smirk.

Your eyes widened and you quickly wiped it away with the sleeve of your robes, a light blush on your cheeks. "If you breathe so much as a word..."

"You missed a spot," he taunted you further, grabbing a napkin from the table and leaning in to clean it for you, but you flinched away from it.

"I'm not putting that thing anywhere near my mouth." — you attempted to do it yourself, using your robes again — "There are probably traces of Spattergroit from the eighteen hundreds."

He rolled his eyes and tossed it back on the table. "Fair enough, although the eighteen hundreds aren't as far back as you think." He pushed his sleeve down to cover his palm, keeping it in place with his thumb, and gently brought it to your lips, holding your chin in place with his other hand.

You stared at him as he cleaned your lips. If he weren't so gentle in the way his fingers pressed on your jaw, and the way the fabric only lightly caressed your skin, you wouldn't have felt your breath hitch as it did. And your heart would probably be doing its own job properly instead of missing so many damn beats.

His eyes were tender as he examined your face, fleeting over your skin to find any drop he might have missed. "We wouldn't want you to make a bad impression at such an important meeting."

"Oh, shut up," you averted your eyes, feeling your cheeks burn at his words, and his gaze finally met yours. His eyebrows lifted slightly, and you felt a twinge of guilt at your harsh words. "Thank you."

Your voice was breathless and shaky, and you cursed yourself internally for it. Sebastian only suppressed a smirk as he let his eyes linger on your lips for a second more.

"You're welcome."

Much to his dismay, his eyes inadvertently shot to the trio next to the two of you, who had been watching it all unfold with wide eyes, looking between you and Sebastian like they had missed a crucial Charms lesson right before their O.W.L.s.

You cleared your throat and moved away from the boy, your finger tapping nervously on the bottle in your hands, and he let go of his sleeve, smoothing the wrinkles caused by his grip.

-

After some small talk, Sebastian heard the door opening and a crowd of people trooped into the pub. He noticed a bunch of Ravenclaw girls, followed by a group of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. No Slytherins came at the rear, much to his disappointment. Maybe he should have invited Daphne, after all.

One of the first people to enter, though, was Dean, and Sebastian immediately noticed the way your eyes seemed to light up at his sight. He took another swig and averted his eyes.

“A couple of people?” said Harry, his green eyes looking even wider behind his glasses as he stared at Hermione in bewilderment. “A couple of people?”

“Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular. Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?”

The red-head grunted and stood up. Sebastian had half a mind to help, but he couldn’t risk losing his seat next to you to Dean Thomas, so he stayed put.

One of the twins approached the counter with long strides and a charming smile. “Could we have —” he stopped to count his companions “— twenty-five Butterbeers, please?”

Poor barman, Sebastian thought as his eyes were lazily set on the man getting down and back up behind the counter twenty-five times.

“Cheers!” Said twin began handing them out. “Cough up, everyone, I haven’t got enough gold for all of these.”

The Slytherin boy watched in contemplation as the students began searching in their bags and purses for Sickles, and at the same time ignored the dirty and confused stares sent his way all the same.

“What have you been telling people?” he heard Harry whisper to Hermione urgently. “What are they expecting?”

“I’ve told you, they just want to hear what you’ve got to say. You don’t have to do anything yet, I’ll speak to them first.” She replied nervously.

After a few greetings here and there, the students finally sat down (there was an abnormally large distance between Sebastian’s seat and the Ravenclaw girl next to him, who seemed to eye him like he was a leper). Hermione took a deep breath and began to speak.

“Well — er — hi,” she gulped loudly. “Well… erm…. Well, you know why you’re here. W—Well, Harry here had the idea…” Said boy shot her an ugly glance and her voice became even more nervous as she backtracked on her words. “I mean… I had the idea that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts…. a-and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us, because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts—”

“Hear, hear,” a Hufflepuff boy interrupted the girl and she seemed to shrink onto herself.

“Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands… And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but the real spells—” 

“You want to pass your Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?” said a Ravenclaw boy, quirking up an eyebrow.

“Of course I do,” Hermione replied indignantly. “But I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because… because...”

Sebastian looked at her, his interest piqued when he saw your hands nervously crumple with each other under the table.

“Because Lord Voldemort’s back.”

There was an immediate reaction that made Sebastian frown, bemused. Some students shrieked, others spilled their drinks on themselves, others shuddered and murmured, afraid.

How could a name possibly incite such a response?

“Where’s the proof You-Know-Who’s back?” a blond Hufflepuff boy asked rather harshly.

“Well, Dumbledore believes it—”

“You mean, Dumbledore believes him,” he shot Harry a glance.

“Who are you?” Ron intruded defensively.

“Zacharias Smith, and I think we’ve got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who’s back.”

Hermione sighed and lowered her voice to a calm tone. “Look, that’s really not what this meeting was supposed to be about—”

“It’s okay, Hermione,” said Harry, his voice more alive than Sebastian had ever heard it. If a voice could drip venom, the Slytherin was sure there would be a puddle on the floor already.

“What makes me say You-Know-Who’s back? I saw him.” the black-haired boy said, staring straight at Zacharias Smith with unwavering eyes. “But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn’t believe him, you don’t believe me, and I’m not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone.”

Sebastian could see the tough facade begin to slip from the Hufflepuff’s face.

“All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory’s body back to Hogwarts. He didn’t give us details, he didn’t tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we’d all like to know —”

“If you’ve come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can’t help you. I don’t want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that’s what you’re here for, you might as well clear out.”

Sebastian faltered at his words and looked at you, hoping to meet your gaze. Something that could at least ease the uncomfortable feeling in his chest. But you didn't indulge him, your eyes trained on your friend, your hands clung to each other in your lap.

“So,” Hermione began again, her voice even more nervous after Harry sent a piercing, angry gaze towards her. “Like I was saying… if you want to learn some defence, then we need to work out how we’re going to do it, how often we’re going to meet, and where we’re going to —”

“Is it true that you can produce a Patronus?” A girl with long hair interrupted, aloof to Hermione's words, and looked at Harry, who confirmed it, still not lowering his guard. “A corporeal Patronus?”

Sebastian stared at Harry with curiosity as the girl introduced herself as Susan Bones. Producing a Corporeal Patronus in your fifth year was nothing short of impressive.

"You make a stag Patronus?”

“Yes,” said Harry.

“Blimey, Harry! I never knew that!” A Gryffindor boy grinned at him.

One of the twins chuckled. “Mum told Ron not to spread it around. She said you got enough attention as it was.”

“She’s not wrong….”

“And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore’s office?” asked a Ravenclaw rather excitedly. “That’s what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year…”

“Er — yeah, I did, yeah,” said Harry.

There was a murmur of surprise and approval, some whistles and "wow"s reaching Sebastian's ears. But he ignored them. His eyes widened as he looked at the boy, and then at you as if expecting you to turn around and tell him this was all a prank, or that people were just making up rumours as Hogwarts students tended to do.

But your face was hard as stone, your posture straight and unwavering as you looked at your friend proudly.

“And in our first year,” another Gryffindor — who Sebastian had heard being called Neville — added, excited to have something to include in the conversation, “he saved that Philological Stone —”

“Philosopher’s,” Hermione corrected.

“Yes, that, from You-Know-Who.”

“And that’s not to mention all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year — getting past Dragons and Merpeople and Acromantulas and things…” added a Ravenclaw girl with long black hair, sending Harry a soft glance.

Sebastian's hands trembled around the bottle as he spaced out looking at the dirty floor. Dragons… Acromantulas… all thpse seemed a bit too familiar for his comfort. He shot you a glance again, hoping you'd turn around that time and tell him that it was no big deal. That you could do more. That you could do more with him .

He didn't know if he was more shocked at the fact that Harry — a simple wizard with no Ancient Magic — could accomplish all of this on his own or the fact that you — her direct descendant — hadn't.

“Look, I…” Harry sighed, interrupting Sebastian's train of thoughts. “I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to be modest or anything, but I had a lot of help with all that stuff.”

“Not with the dragon, you didn’t,” the Ravenclaw boy sitting next to Ron’s sister spoke again. “That was a seriously cool bit of flying….”

“Yeah, well—”

“And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer,” said Susan Bones.

Dementors as well?

“No, no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I’m trying to make is —”

“Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?” said Zacharias Smith.

“Here’s an idea, why don’t you shut your mouth?” Ron said rudely, looking as if wanting to punch said boy right in the nose.

“Well, we’ve all turned up to learn from him, and now he’s telling us he can’t really do any of it,” Zacharias blushed.

Both the twins stepped in, taking out a large metal instrument they had bought from Zonko’s Joke Shop and branding it threateningly.

“That’s not what he said”

“Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?”

“Or any part of your body, really, we’re not fussy where we stick this.”

“Yes, well, moving on…” Hermione sighed tiredly, “the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?”

A murmur broke through the pub, but overall, everyone seemed to be in favour. And here went all of Sebastian's plans. He wondered how suited Harry was for this. Sure, he had accomplished a lot, but… how much did he really know? How many spells could he actually teach him? How many spells could he teach you?

And for the first time, he felt a pang of jealousy that wasn't directed towards Dean Thomas.

“Right." Hermione continued. "Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don’t think there’s any point in meeting less than once a week—”

“Hang on, we need to make sure this doesn’t clash with our Quidditch practice.” A tall Gryffindor girl interrupted solemnly.

“No, nor with ours.” Said the Ravenclaw girl.

“Nor ours,” added Zacharias Smith proudly.

Hermione seemed to refrain herself from rolling her eyes. “I’m sure we can find a night that suits everyone, but you know, this is rather important, we’re talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort’s Death Eaters—”

“Well said! Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we’ll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up!” Another Hufflepuff chimed in cheerfully, looking around his companions as if inciting a crowd. “I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period. Obviously they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who , but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells —”

“We think the reason Umbridge doesn’t want us trained in Defence Against the Dark Arts is that she’s got some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he’d mobilise us against the Ministry.” Hermione explained.

Sebastian took another swig of his Butterbeer. Not only was Umbridge useless, she was also completely daft.

After some more discussion — and an argument initiated by a blonde Ravenclaw girl with big blue eyes about Heliopaths, a Ministry army and Spirits of fire Sebastian couldn’t care less about, they finally got to talk about where to meet.

“Hem, hem,” it was Ron’s sister who interrupted the argument, coughing in a perfect imitation of Umbridge that made Sebastian snort. “Weren’t we trying to decide how often we’re going to meet and get Defense lessons?”

“Yes  we were, you’re right. Well, the other thing to decide is where we’re going to meet...” Hermione sighed.

A few students began suggesting different places.

“Library?”

“I can’t see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library,” said Harry.

“Maybe an unused classroom?” said Dean, and your eyes shot to him immediately. Sebastian hid his scowl behind the bottle top.

“Yeah, McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practising for the Triwizard…” Ron said thoughtfully.

You sent Sebastian a side glance and he panicked, his heart skipping several beats. Were you about to suggest what he thought you were about to suggest?

He sent you a pleading look back, but you had already looked away from him and he braced for the worst. But you didn’t speak.

“Right, well, we’ll try to find somewhere. We’ll send a message round to everybody when we’ve got a time and a place for the first meeting.” Hermione said, taking a parchment and a quill from her bag. “I-I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here.”

There was some resistance from the students: many of them didn’t look too happy to put their name on a list that everyone could read (the Hufflepuff, for once, was pretty quick to backtrack on his statement), especially with something as delicate as this, given the circumstances.

The twins were the first to sign, and then you yourself took the parchment and wrote your name without hesitation. After that, the students seemed more and more convinced and lined up in front of the parchment. After everyone had finished, Sebastian had a strange feeling rising inside him, as if he had signed a contract he couldn't get out of. It worried him and he looked up suspiciously at Hermione and then down at you, who didn't seem fazed at all.

It wasn't long before the crowd began to disperse, and you too decided to leave the filthy inn and say goodbye to the trio. Sebastian followed you outside.

"For a moment I thought you were going to suggest the Undercroft as a place..." He chuckled gauzily.

"For a moment I thought so too," you replied, lost in thought.

His breath caught.

"S-So, is all that true? What they said - what Harry did?"

"Yes, of course," you turned to him, puzzled by his question about your friend's achievements. “You had never heard of him?”

Yet another mistake he had made: the lack of thorough research into his contemporary environment.

"Let us say that I ... never indulge in gossip."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Of course..."

"But I noticed the scar," he added, hoping you would tell him more.

You shrugged and turned back around. "Who hasn't?"

"Very peculiar shape."

"Yeah well, it's only one of the most powerful curses there is. Nothing too big." You retorted sarcastically.

He felt a cold wave wash over him as he confirmed his suspicions.

"The- The Killing Curse."

"The boy who lived."

His heart stopped in his chest.

Taglist

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[serenefreakgeekao3]

Ever in our favour

CHAPTER FIVE

[Table of Contents}

Summary: Now having to care for Rue as well, you realize you have to perform to survive Warnings: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of blood and death

“Hey Rue,” You begin, speaking into the cloud of hair ambushing your face, “Are you hurt at all? Do you need some of this medicine?” You feel her shake her head into your chest and acquiesce, tightening your hold on her. “Okay, good.”

“That is good, it looks like we’ll have very little left after this,” Peeta adds in, his fingers gentle across the wound on your back. The pain-numbing part of the medicine was already kicking in, smoothing the glide into something soothing, even.

“So, who all is left?” It was Rue who finally pulled back, looking you in the eyes as she spoke.

“There are eleven of us left. Both of District 1 and 2, District 4’s boy, District 5’s girl, you,” She nods at you, then continues, “Both of us from my district, and both of District 12.” Her eyes dart to Peeta behind you, whose hands still at the same time. Everything pauses for a moment, and you suck in a breath, pushing past the fact that Peeta’s district partner was still around. That woman who had volunteered- the girl who had been set on fire. Everyone was betting on her if not the careers. But- you all have now partnered together. What could they be thinking about that?

“Those poor darlings, all three lining up to be killed together!”

“Maybe if you add all of their scores together it’d make one career?”

“I’d pay to send my tribute to them. I bet whoever gets all three at the same time deserves a prize!”

You shudder involuntarily at the thoughts strewn across your mind, trying your best to block out those irritating Capital accents and brightly coloured bodies. You could feel Peeta hesitate behind you, likely worried he had hurt you. He placed his free hand on your shoulder, and you reached up to take his hand in yours to provide some sort of comfort. You could feel Peeta rub what felt like the same spot as the last two times and begin to wonder if he was just prolonging the time he was allowed to do this.

“What would you do?” Rue asked, and when you finally came back to yourself and looked toward her you could see her eyes locked on Peeta behind you.

“About what, darling?” You whisper, trying to pull her closer. Every single time you laid your eyes on her you’re reminded of how young she is, of how she should be anywhere but here.

“If we ran into Katniss,” She whispers back to you, her eyes flitting briefly to your own before looking back at him. “If he runs into her.”

“I would run,” Peeta announces, his voice hard behind you. He was no longer even pretending to rub the medicine onto your back; he just held your hand on your shoulder, the other pressed completely to your back as if he could drain comfort through it. “I don’t want to fight her.” His voice was quiet, but slowly gained volume until he was talking normally once again. “Of course, I don’t want to fight her. I don’t want to fight anyone. But we all do what needs to be done to survive.” You squeeze his hand and you can hear him choke behind you, finally turning to look at him as he finishes off, “We do what needs to be done to protect the ones we care about.”

“You said that includes me now?” You both snap your heads to look at Rue, who seems almost to curl into herself. “You said you care about me, that you’ll protect me now?” She raises her eyes to Peeta once more, and you almost want to step in between them for how it makes you feel. “So you would protect me? Would you kill someone like you did that District Six boy by the river? Would you kill Katniss to protect me?”

“Katniss would never harm you,” Peeta reassures immediately, scooting forward to sit next to you instead of behind. “Katniss would never put anyone into a position where we’d have to kill her to save you, because she would never harm you.”

“Peeta,” You whisper, watching Rue’s eyes fill with tears.

“You’d be surprised,” She mumbled, her voice wavering with emotions. You tighten your hold on the girl and she curls into your chest. “You think you know somebody until-” She breaks off, crying into your chest. You can do nothing but hold her, smoothing her hair down under your chin and looking back at Peeta with worried eyes. Silence reigns until her cries finally quiet down.

“Yes,” Peeta whispers, finally reaching a hesitant hand out to place against the back of her head. She pulls back enough to look up at him, and you follow her gaze to see Peeta’s face full of confidence and assurance. “I would kill anyone who tried to harm you, Rue. Katniss included.”

“So, eleven left of twenty-four,” Peeta begins, shooting a grin over toward you. The three of you were walking through the forest aimlessly. You held the knife you had in your hand, using it occasionally to pick berries or other herbs you came across. Peeta had a wicked-looking dagger in hand himself, cutting away at any bushes or brambles that blocked your way. It looked eerily similar in the dancing sunlight, almost like the one that had been pressed to your throat near the river. Rue walked silently between or behind the two of you, quietly pointing out different herbs or berries to you whenever they would pass by unseen by your eyes. “That’s not too-”

“Sh,” Rue calls out suddenly, ducking down as if out of instinct. You glance at her, then in the direction she was looking. When you all remained quiet, that’s when you heard it. It almost sounded like a splashing sound, repeated in a broken rhythm every so often. Then you heard the muffled cursing sounds- obviously human- and watched Rue frighten and begin scrambling up a nearby tree. You nod slowly, glad she’s able to take care of herself, as you and Peeta duck down under nearby cover. You keep your eyes peeled in the direction of the sounds, jumping to Peeta and Rue, then back. After a few minutes, it seemed fairly obvious that the sounds weren’t moving so Peeta finally broke the silence surrounding you all and crawled over closer to you. Crouching next to you, he leaned in to whisper while keeping his eyes averted up toward the trees.

“Do we investigate?”

“I’d rather know who it is and where they are. Ignorance will get us killed here.”

“Right,” Peeta agreed easily, looking back up to Rue. He moved away from you, approaching her tree. You could hear the leaves rustling above you, then murmured voices as Peeta likely told Rue the plan. You kept an eye in the direction you knew to be where the person was, listening intently past the rustling and murmurs to hear the continuous splashing and curses. Once Peeta reinstates himself next to you then you feel free to finally move, leading the way through the bushes.

It takes a bit of poking and prodding through, but eventually, you find yourself crouching behind the last row of bushes, peering through the middle to see a boy standing at the river. He had a rather well-carved fishing spear, which he was using to jam into the water and pull back up. Every time he pulled up empty he’d mutter another curse, then move to the side and try again. You and Peeta watch him fish up three nicely-sized fish, and with each one he turned and tossed them into a woven basket set on the ground nearby.

“Steal or?” Peeta’s voice was whispering, trying his best to minimize the noise. Due to this, he was pressed close to your side, his mouth near your ear. You contemplate his question. If you stole it and ran, he’d likely give chase. With that fishing spear, which he seems to wield competently, then he could likely reach you from farther than you’re likely to reach with just your small knife. Likewise, the same if you decided to fight. The best course of action could be a distraction since there are two of you and one of him.

“Why does he need so many fish?” You couldn’t help asking the question before it even crossed your mind, and you tried to think of a reason why, after at least three fish, he still stood there and tried to catch yet another one. “Is he not alone?”

“I don’t see anyone. If he isn’t alone then now would be the best chance we have.”

“I don’t want you to have to kill another tribute.” You felt Peeta’s hand rest against your upper arm, then as he pulls you lean into it, falling against his chest.

“Then I won’t.”

“It can’t be that easy, Peeta.”

“We can just steal it and run, no harm no foul.”

“He’d give chase. If something happened- if either of us were in danger- then you would kill him.” He remained quiet and you sighed, watching the boy catch yet another fish to add to the pile. “You said so yourself earlier.”

“And I meant it,” Peeta mumbled, nuzzling his face into your neck. “But if you don’t want me to kill him then I won’t.”

“That’s not what I said,” You sighed, leaning your head backwards against his shoulder. “I don’t want you to have to kill him. If it comes down to it, I’d rather you kill him than risk yourself.” You could feel Peeta’s chuckles against your back.

“You’re kinda giving me mixed signals here, Y/N.”

“Well, maybe there’s a way we can steal them without him even noticing.”

“I think he’d notice if his dinner disappeared.”

“Before he noticed.”

You both raised your heads at the same time, studying the boy across the way. An idea pops into your head, and you tense up against Peeta. Slowly he slid his arms around your shoulders, pulling you back more and making it more visible that he was holding you. You couldn’t see his face, but he was tensing slowly too.

“I had a thought.”

“Me too,” You admitted quietly, hesitantly. Peeta waited a moment before leaning down into your ear.

“If we make a spectacle of this then we can gain sponsors. He’s small, and he’ll need to die eventually anyway.” You turn your head toward his, finally meeting his serious eyes.

“I had the same thought, but slightly different.” You bit your lip, leaning close to his ear sensually, “If we played up our relationship, and took him out together, then the sponsors might go crazy for that.” You back up to meet his eyes again, seeing the hesitancy that you felt earlier.

“Do you think you could do that?”

“Can you?”

You both waited for the other pin to drop, but nothing else came to mind. Making a spectacle over killing a boy seemed so heartless, so unthinkable. How would you even go about that? On the other hand, you both were probably already known for your caring nature. If you went against something like that, would they see through the obvious ploy?

“So, what? Go out there and laugh? Joke around with each other?” His eyebrows drew further and further downward, finally shaking his head. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Trade,” You whisper, turning to look at him again. “We could always just go out there, ask for some of the food. Maybe offer something in trade. If he accepts, then we’ll have what we were looking for anyway. If he refuses and tries to attack, then we just fight back- that’s when we’d play up our relationship. How dare he attack the other.”

“Act like we’re not looking to fight?”

“I mean, we’re not.” He raised an eyebrow toward you and you sigh, looking away. “Could just go back to plan A. Steal and run.”

“Plan B, fight and make a spectacle,” Peeta continues as if listing off options. You decide to finish it.

“Plan C, ask for a trade.”

“They all seem plausible. Could even do them all. C, A, B.”

“Plan cab. Perfect.” The sarcasm was evident in your tone, but you felt Peeta shrug against you. You sigh again, looking back at him.

“I can ask-”

“You’re not going there alone.” He stares into your eyes for a few moments, and you could hear a cheer coming from the boy a bit away from you. You both look over to see him hauling up a huge fish, watching it flop back and forth. The boy almost loses grip on his spear from the effort of the fish, but eventually lands it on the grass next to his woven basket. You use this opportunity, pushing to stand and exiting the brush. He doesn’t notice you when you exit, nor does he notice as you begin to approach. Even standing ten feet away he seems too enamoured with the fish he had caught- one of those piranha mutts that had followed you and Peeta down the river. “Excuse me?”

  The boy jumps up quickly, trying to swing his spear to face you, however he hadn’t anticipated the spear still being stuck to the fish. His hands slip and he loses grip on his spear, the wooden stick waving slightly in the air before remaining upright, still stuck in the giant fish on the ground. “Who are you? Don’t come any closer!”

“Don’t worry,” You heard Peeta behind you, and turn to see him only a step behind you. You take a step back to stand next to him, taking his hand in yours. He smiles briefly at you before looking imploringly toward the boy. “We’re not here to kill you. We’ll leave all that to the careers but-”

“Go away then!” The boy yanks his spear out finally, taking a step back and aiming the sharp bit toward you.

“But,” You continue, glancing down at his basket and then back to him, “We’re hungry. We’re not good at fishing like you. We could offer you something in trade-”

“No!” The boy yelled out, jabbing the spear toward you. He was still a good few feet back, but he was trying his best to look intimidating. “These fish are mine! I need them!”

“All of them?” Peeta asks, attempting a small step forward with his free hand held out in submission, “Toby, listen. Just a few. Three, that’s all.”

“Get back!” Toby lunges forward and you pull Peeta quickly back by his hand, though Toby still ended up nowhere near him. You took a breath, looking around the area quickly. Looking back at Toby, you see him doing the same.

“We can trade-”

“Get back or I’ll send my friends after you!” You hesitate at that, watching Peeta immediately scan the area more thoroughly.

“Friends?”

“The careers! I’ll send them after you!”

“You’re friends with the careers? Which one?” As Peeta speaks his eyes are constantly scanning around the two of you, even turning around to watch your back.

“With the- with…” The boy trails off, the tip of his spear dipping before he realizes it. Lifting it back toward you, he growls out, “It doesn’t matter! They’ll let me in with this haul of food and then they’ll protect me. From you!”

“Do you really think the careers need food?” You remember back to the previous Hunger Games you were forced to watch. Anyone who managed to capture the cornucopia had almost an endless supply of food. “They have all they need, they’re not going to want-”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Look Toby,” Peeta begins again, locking eyes with the boy and trying that small step forward again. “We just want to make a deal. You can fish up more, we’ll leave and you won’t have to see us again.”

It looked as if Peeta’s words finally struck something in Toby as the boy paused, looking at the two of you with a peculiar look. You were hesitant, trying to pull Peeta back toward you but he wouldn’t listen, instead taking a step to the side to half-block your form. When Toby finally speaks he’s quiet, as if only just speaking to himself. “No, you’re right. If you leave I won’t see you again. You’ll be watching and waiting to ambush me and I won’t see you coming.” There was silence, a stillness that lasted for much too long. Then, action.

Toby had lunged forward again, this time far enough to possibly stab through Peeta. Peeta had, instead, let go of your hand and dodged to the side, shouldering Toby to knock him down. He caught himself and turned to face Peeta, and you finally were able to spur yourself into action. The knife that had been in your hand this whole time- you had practically forgotten about it, like an extension of your arm- slid into a firmer grip as you raised it up.

“Peeta!” You call out loudly, shooting a desperate look over to him. You could see the recognition in his eyes, how you were playing it up for the cameras before you finally lock back on Toby and pounced toward him. “Get away from him!” Toby didn’t anticipate your actions, scrambling to swing his spear toward you. By the time he managed to aim it in your direction, you were close enough that his long spear was practically useless. You swiped your knife against his arms, his chest, anything you could reach. He kept pushing against you, eventually managing to kick a foot out and trip you backwards.

You gain your bearings in time to see Toby standing above you, spear aimed at your throat. You hear your name called, then watch as Peeta full-body tackles Toby to the side. You sit up quickly, seeing the two of them wrestle around on the ground nearby the river. This was coming alarmingly close to what had happened earlier, and you weren’t willing to let Peeta fall into the river again. You jumped up as quickly as you could, walking over to watch the wrestling. Toby finally drops his spear to the side to grab both hands on Peeta, attempting to push him off. That was your chance.

“Don’t you dare hurt my love!” You reach down and snatch the spear, watching as it seems neither boy had heard your shout. You aim, then wait for the right moment, which was difficult with Peeta wrestling on top of him. Toby manages to free a hand, throwing a punch across Peeta’s face. Certainly not the worst he’s been hurt, but you call out anyway. “Peeta!” You reach forward to place a hand on his shoulder, and he immediately jumps back off of Toby. You step forward, placing the tip of the spear against his throat.

Your face falls. This was it, the moment you would have to kill someone on purpose. Sure, you had done it once before on accident. But- this was cold blood. Damn it all. “I’m sorry,” You couldn’t help but whisper as you pressed it in deeper.

“Y/N,” You heard whispered behind you, Peeta placing his hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to-”

“He hurt you Peeta,” You interrupted, emotion colouring your voice. You didn’t even have to try and conjure them by thinking something else, you didn’t want to be in this situation in the first place. Tears began springing to your eyes. “He said it himself, he could follow us and ambush us when we don’t notice.”

“I can do it, Y/N, just give me the spear,” Peeta continues in a quiet voice, walking up behind you and reaching his arms around your form. His arms followed yours, and if this were some other time or some other universe it might be him showing you how to do something, telling you to follow his movements. But here, right now, he was trying to take the spear from you to kill the boy himself.

Toby lay there, frightened and wide-eyed, like a deer in the headlights. You gulp, raising the spear up slowly. You acted as if you were handing the spear to him, but you watched Toby carefully. His eyes flicked to the spear, to your legs, then back up to you. When you lifted the spear enough, Toby threw out a kick. You had been expecting it, having firmed your stance, but Peeta hadn’t. Peeta was tripped, falling backwards away from you, and you tightened your hold on the spear and drove it downward.

The image of the spear piercing his throat would stay locked in your mind forever. The blood pooled around the stick, the gurgling sound as he tried to breathe. You covered your mouth and backed away, tears falling from your eyes. Turning, panicking, you search for Peeta. He was mid-stand as you turn, standing and rushing to take you into his arms. He pulls you against his chest, petting your hair. “Sh, it’ll be okay.”

“I did it, I killed him.” Your statement was proven by the sound of a cannon in the air, making you visibly flinch.

“Y/N,” Peeta spoke your name softly, and then you could feel him take a deep breath. He was bracing himself. He slowly pulled you back, ducking his head to meet your eyes. “Did you-” He bit his lip, and you would’ve tried to help him along if you knew what he was trying to ask. “Did you call me love earlier?” You widened your eyes for the show, eyes darting around anywhere but at him.

“I-I-”

“Do you love me?” You take a deep breath, meeting his eyes. You slowly raise your hands to cup his cheeks, talking low so it felt like it was only for him, though loud enough for whatever bugs were around to hear.

“Of course I love you Peeta. More than the Capital loves their tributes.” He smiles wide and bright, then pulls you forward.

Oh. He was kissing you. This certainly wasn’t your first kiss- having had that back in the cave (or wherever you had been during those memories you don’t have)- but it certainly wasn’t a kiss to scoff at. He had taken hold of your cheeks and pulled you close, kissing as if this was the last chance he would get. It was intense, and even if you knew he was just playing this up for the cameras, you decided to enjoy it anyway. He certainly seemed to be.

“Gross,” You hear next to you, and you break apart with a gasp, turning to look. Rue stood there next to you, trying to hold back a grin and she looks between you and Peeta. You glance briefly to meet Peeta’s eyes before finally turning and running toward Rue.

“Oh, Rue! I’m so glad you’re safe!” You call out, falling to your knees to hug her close to yourself. You turn your head to bury in her hair, whispering softly, “We were playing it up for the sponsors. They’re watching.” Backing up, you place your hands on either side of her own face. It felt almost as if you were in your mother’s place, looking down at the eyes of innocence. Rue’s face fell instantly, and you worried for a moment that you had done something wrong.

“Oh, Y/N!” Rue jumped forward, wrapping her arms around your shoulders, but talking almost louder than necessary. “I was so worried when he jabbed that spear at you! Don’t ever leave me again!” You felt Rue bury her head in your neck, then felt vibrations shake her body. Was she laughing?

“We have a good haul, at least,” Peeta calls out, walking over in front of you and dropping the basket. “We should probably take this somewhere else to cook, but we finally have food for Rue.”

“Good,” You respond, nodding up toward him. “I was worried.” Rue pulled back, wiping her face as if wiping away tears- though you saw nothing glistening on her cheeks.

“Did you grab that- that really big one? It was huge!”

“Yeah,” You began instead, looking up at Peeta, then over to Rue, “I don’t know exactly how healthy those things would be for us. Those were the mutts that were chasing Peeta and me earlier.”

“Oh-”

“It’s fine though, there’s plenty enough here for us. Honestly, if there were any more I think it’d just go to waste. Would spoil before we could get to it.”

“You’re right though,” You stood, taking Rue’s hand. You watch Peeta lean down, picking up the basket and wielding the fishing spear in his other hand. “We should find someplace else to cook those.”

[ethereal-bumble-bee]

John My Beloved Songfic- Sprace

(Trigger warning for death, illness, and grief. Enjoy some Sprace angst!)

    Race could only watch from his perch on the rooftop as the love of his life dissolved into tears just a few feet before him, and it was then more than ever that he wished he could reach out and say something, anything, to let him know that he was still there, that he didn’t move on and wouldn’t until he knew that it was going to be alright when he left.

    God, Spot, I’m so sorry.

Are we to speak, first day of the week Stumbling words at the bar

    Tears of his own springing to his eyes, Race tried in vain to set a hand on his shaking shoulders, words slipping out of his mouth in a useless attempt to break the deafening silence.

    “Sorry I left you,” he said. “I never wanted to get sick, and I sure as hell didn’t want to die without sayin’ goodbye first, but the world was dead set on takin’ me early, I guess.”

Beauty blue eyes, my order of fries Long Island kindness and wine

    “It hurts like hell to die, y’know. There was all this noise and all these voices, all these people yelling and begging at once, then a flash of light and blinding pain and… nothing.” He took a deep breath. “It was like I’d been thrown off of a cliff and I’d just hit the water, so sudden and so damn painful that if I could, I woulda cried my little heart out. If I could speak to anyone right now, I’d beg for a way back onto that cliff, even if it means I’m teetering over the edge for the rest of my life.” Glancing away, Race added, “It sucks.”

    Spot didn’t answer- of course he didn’t. He was crying still, but the tears had calmed, and it was now Race’s turn to choke up as he continued.   

Beloved of John, I get it all wrong I read you for some kind of poem

   “I have always wondered what my last words were. I don’t remember them- I don’t think I’d even remember my name if not for the way your face crumples when they repeat it. All I really know is that they weren’t enough, that I’ll never get to say to you what I really want to say.“ His voice dropped to a whisper. “God, I’ll miss you.”

Covered in lines, the fossils I find Have they no life of their own?

    “I’ll miss all of them. Jack, Crutchie, Albert- every single person who I won’t see again until they come to join me. I’ll miss you the most, though, I think. You were the only reason I kept goin’ most days.” Race smiled, which seemed so out of place there that he couldn’t keep it on his face, and his expression crumpled.

    “M’sorry, Spottie.” Spot hadn’t moved this entire time, hadn’t said a word, and Race began to fear that he might have lost all resolve to get up. “I know how awful this must be, but I guess it’s different when you’re the one dyin’.” 

So can we pretend sweetly Before the mystery ends? I am a man with a heart that offends With its lonely and greedy demands

    His heart aching now, Race continued to speak, the smallest, most naive part of him hoping that somehow Spot would hear him. “I’m gettin’ weaker lately, like it’s harder to stay where all the livin’ people are the longer I’m dead.” He looked up at the sky. “I’ll be gone soon, wherever souls go when they die.”

    Silence. Spot didn’t move to lift his head or do anything but shudder, a small, helpless sob of grief escaping him. “Why did you have to leave?” He whispered, almost inaudibly, a small child’s cry. “What did you ever do?”

There's only a shadow of me, in a matter of speaking, I'm dead.

     “I dunno,” Race mumbled back, more of an answer to himself than anything else. “Maybe my time was up. Maybe, with the strike, I did all that the universe needed me for, and now it’s time to make room for the next kiddo that’ll change the world.” Pausing, he reached up to swipe some of his own hair out of his face, sighing. “Who knows, maybe I’m comin’ back some time soon.”

Such a waste, your beautiful face Stumbling carpet arise

    “I just don’t understand.” Spot shifted his weight, and Race jumped, startled, as he looked him directly in the eyes. “If it was time for you to go, why are you here?”

    “I…” Race’s voice faltered, and he looked down at his shoes. “I don’t know that either. Did- did you hear everything that I said?”

    “I did.” Spot let out a breath, a sad smile coming to his face. “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

Go follow your gem, your white-feathered friend Icarus, point to the sun If history speaks of two baby teeth I'm painting the hills blue and red They said beware, Lord hear my prayer I've wasted my throes on your head

    His mind was full of questions and thoughts, but Spot couldn’t muster another sentence. He simply stared at the boy before him, wondering if he was dreaming or perhaps even hallucinating, praying that this was real and he really had a chance to say goodbye. “I wasn’t there to see you,” he whispered, “when you was sick. I was too scared that you were dying.”

So can we be friends, sweetly Before the mystery ends?

    Race nodded softly, his eyes swimming in sadness yet his lips turned up into a smile. “Well, you’s seein’ me now, aren’t ya?” When Spot didn’t answer, he glanced away again, wishing there was something he could do. 

I love you more than the world can contain

    “I know why you’re here.” Spot’s voice cracked slightly, but he wasn’t whispering anymore- the streets had gone quiet, leaving only his voice to fill the empty. “You’re saying goodbye.”

In its lonely and ramshackle head There's only a shadow of me, in a matter of speaking I'm dead

    “Yeah.” Another grin, this one slightly more pained than the last. “I’m sorry, Spot, but it’s getting too hard to stay here.” He glanced out at the night sky before them. “There’s somethin’ out there, and it’s callin’ my name.” He turned back to Spot, placing a single, nearly translucent hand over Spot’s. “I’m sure you understand.”

I'm holding my breath My tongue on your chest What can be said of my heart?

    “I do.” Spot inhaled, the cold air of the night stinging in his lungs, his face dry from tears but the ache in his heart refusing to subside. “Just… be careful, okay?” 

If history speaks, the kiss on my cheek Where there remains but a mark

    “I will.” Silence filled the air for one more second, and then Race stepped away with one final smile. “Hey, you be careful too, okay? I don’t wanna deal with ya again any earlier than I have to.”

Beloved my John, so I'll carry on Counting my cards down to one

    “Yeah, sure, idiot,” Spot retorted, his tone of voice the same as when they used to bicker endlessly, before they fell in love, when Race was still alive. 

And when I am dead, come visit my bed My fossil is bright in the sun

    “I need to go.” Race’s eyes flickered, for just one moment, somewhere in the distance, and then he focused back on Spot. “I love you. Don’t forget that.” His voice choked. “I love you, Spot.”

    And then he was gone.

So can we contend, peacefully Before my history ends?

    Spot sat alone, his eyes closed, placing a hand on his heart as the emptiness surrounded him once more. “Bye, Racer,” he muttered into the dark, hearing his voice echo as if his words had never been heard by another soul. “I love you too.”

Jesus, I need you, be near me, come shield me From fossils that fall on my head There's only a shadow of me, in a matter of speaking I'm dead.

[nrc-broadcasting]

imagine the students sending anonymous messages formatted like those aita posts in reddit. like "aita for almost killing 5 students?" or like misleading titles like "aita for strangling my friend?" and like the story says the friend was ta

What A Shame She’s Fvcked In The Head

⋆﹥━━━━━━━🎧━━━━━━━﹤⋆

This has been an increasingly big issue in my area, so I propose a scenario that’s usually not what people think of when they hear someone say ‘*insert name*’s miscarriage was a good thing’

Warnings: Sensitive Topics, Miscarriages, Moral Issues, Cursing, Subjective

Yuu adjusts their mic, straightening it from it’s oblique position as they start tapping on it a few times to check if it’s working after a long time of being out of commission.

“Good morning, Twisted Wonderland. I am not dead just yet, so I’ll be continuing this broadcast after an unannounced and unexpected hiatus I went on,” they scratch their head sheepishly.

“Anyway!” They clasps their hands together. “Let’s start off today with an anonymous submission,” they pull up their laptop and scrolling through the eclectic submissions sent in and spread out for them. They hum as they choose, the subtle scent of their wooden table wafting up their nose and ensconcing a familiarity in them after being away from this studio for so long.

One particular submission catches their eye and they click on in, opening it. They clear their throat, “here we have our first submission for today, ‘Am I the assh0le for telling my cousin it’s good thing the had a miscarriage—?!”

“WOAH.”

They blink a few times, trying to process what in the Underworld they’ve just read.

“Okay, I’m definitely reading this whole thing before answering that. Damn!” Yuu shakes their head and start to read the submission.

They clear their throat once again, starting to read the submission with a rather… perplexed expression on their face. “‘My cousin’s the definition of evil incarnate, she’s always been unnecessarily rude to serves and unbelievably cruel to most people. Especially kids. So when she got married, it was obvious that there was a power imbalance between her and her husband, as she tips the scale into her favor. If she bothered trying, I saw that she would’ve made such a lovely bride, what a shame she’s fvcked in the head. When the news that she was pregnant came out, it was safe to say the air was tense every time we talked about it in the family,’ she sounds… machiavellian.” They remark.

“I’m assuming the whole family thinks of her the same way you do? Anyways, I’ll continue now. ‘She was always quick to anger and prone to emotional outbursts, even in situations where she can clearly control them. Everyone knows emotions are likely causes of miscarriages. But my cousin doesn’t seem to care about the child in her womb, only the privileges and the demands she can make because of it. She’s even went so far as to verbally admit she’ll micromanage every detail of the child’s life.’ Remind me of someone,” they mutter, remembering Riddle’s mother.

“‘It’s safe to say everyone that knows her knows she’ll only cause her child emotional and if she’d hide it enough, physical abuse. So when she came to us, crying in a way so obviously only for pity, she was met with silence. I took the initiative and told her it was a good thing, as she’d never be a good mother to the child. No one sided with her and she merely left, her tears stopping as she stopped pretending to care for the lost of her baby’s life. We were all throughly disturbed…’ this is… a very heavy topic.” They furrow their eyebrows.

“But I don’t think what you did was incorrect, maybe it was out of line for some people, but you told the truth on behalf of your entire family.” They sigh.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to provide you an answer to this submission.” They shake their head.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━🎧━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Our fairytale has come to an end.

[peachymilkandcream]

Break Me Slowly|Part 25|Yandere Levi x Evelyn

(A/N: The fact we're almost done with the canon storyline is actually insane. There's only two specials left that I'll try and cover one per chapter in and then it's totally off of my own storyline (which I think you guys will really like tbh) How many chapters after the end of the canon line ends I'm not sure I'm still deciding. I would put a number but I don't want to force myself to finish at a certain number if I don't need/want to. Hope you enjoy and comment to be added to the taglist!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc.

==============================================

Since the battle Levi had done nothing but insist Evelyn sat with him while he held her stomach gently. He would never admit it but he was worried sick that something might have happened to her. Might have happened to their child.

"After this is all over Levi, what will we do then? Go back to our house? Pretend like the world didn't almost end and live out the rest of our mortality."

"That's if we don't become fugitives."

"Exactly. What are we going to do."

"That house is my home. I'm going to go back there and live out the rest of my days with my wife in peace. Our children, and their children gathered around us. The Ackerman bloodline rebuilt, my legacy continued."

"What if we don't make it back?" She was hesitant to ask.

"We will. I promise you. I will not allow you to exist without me. The very idea makes me sick."

A soft scoff comes from her at his determined look, how easy it was for him to get into these fits. "If you say so Captain."

Neither had anything smart to say anymore so they relapsed into silence, until with some effort Levi stood, straightening his clothes, even now at the end of humanity he was determined to look clean and presentable.

"Where are you going now? Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Not a chance. I sleep when I'm dead. That bearded lady, she's healing up and it seems like she survived her infection. I'm going to make her tell us where Eren is going."

Evelyn stands with him, taking his arm. "Shall we?"

"Willing to touch me huh? What's with this sudden change in mood?"

"We're partners in crime. In all things I've got your back."

A small smile appears on his face before he forces it to vanish, kissing her forehead. "There's my girl."

=============================================

Levi's presence alone was intimidating enough for Yelena to talk. Spilling her guts on the excuse she wanted them to admit that Zeke was right in what he was doing. Although Levi's suspicion is she really didn't want to get any more bones broken.

Her calm explanation of the world's destruction didn't phase the Captain in the slightest. Just another thing that needed to be accomplished. Evelyn didn't even think he gave a second thought to her words until they were lying in the same bed last night for the first time in months. She had forgotten how warm and comforting it was to lay beside him and hear the rhythm of his heart.

"Hey."

"What is it."

"I told you I was going to get you out of this, but truth is, we could die tomorrow."

"I know."

"I want you to stay behind."

"You know I won't do that."

He sighs. "Not even if I tell you it's for your own good?"

"Nope."

"Good. Glad we got that out of the way so I can go down in the record that I did the gentlemanly thing and told you to save yourself."

"Record added." She looks up at him, his gruesome stiches hidden poorly under the cloth. "It's like you don't know me at all."

"Trust me I do. Wherever I go you're right behind me like a leech."

"I think you have that the other way around."

"Hm. Maybe I do."

Their breathing fills the room again until he breaks it by pulling her face up towards his and meeting her mouth in a fiery kiss, as if he was trying to sear the imprint onto her skin.

"What's gotten into you-" Her words and more breathless than she would've liked, her core clenching on nothing.

"We might die, so fuck it and lets have one last night to remember."

He was right, he always was. They could die tomorrow. So giving in at the end of all of this could be done guilt free.

Her body rose up to meet him, accepting his hips rolling onto hers with such desperation it made her shudder. His hands clawed and groped, wanting to touch every inch of her. His tongue and mouth tasted all they could, he just wanted to devour her. That's all he ever wanted since he laid eyes on her. To take everything she was, chew it up and savor how it broke and bent to his teeth before spitting her out, just bones of who she used to be.

Their clothes become nothing more than a discarded heap, soon she found her thighs over his shoulders while his tongue explored her folds, dipping eagerly in and out. He was famished, before he was incapable of making their reunion worth while. No more.

His arousal covered kisses trailed up her body, pausing to flick her nipples with his tongue while his fingers twisted and turned inside her. Speeding up until she threw her head back, moaning and clamping down on them, practically begging him for his dick.

"Tell me what you want honey."

Defiance flashed in her eyes, she was willing to work with him for the sake of their child but there was no chance she was going to submit to him. "Oh fuck you."

"If you insist." His hand slips behind her neck, then he flips her onto her stomach, landing a slap on her ass, admiring the ripples it makes.

Levi pressed his whole weight onto her, still holding her neck while squeezing slightly, his erection grinding into her and channeling all his desire into his thrusts. "You'll do as I say, got it? And you'll fucking enjoy it." Slowly he started to slide in, each inch he pushed punctuated his next words. "Every. Fucking. Inch."

Fingers down her throat kept the noises at bay while he thoroughly fucked her, setting his own rough and unforgiving pace until eventually she was sucking him in while she came, forcing every drop of cum to fill her cunt.

When he was finished with her he dropped her with a sigh. "That's a good girl."

==============================================

Something was different between them the next day, It was almost like how it was before the whole mess of marriage. Helping each other with their gear, sharing smiles, and joking with each other like that had back then. It was...nice. Oh how she missed it.

She added it up to the hope of what was to come. The flying boat nearly prepared and all filled with a sense of determination that they would be the ones to save humanity. And while the only gloom was the leaving of Annie, the fate of the world rested on their shoulders. They had a mission to finish. Then they could all go home, life would continue on, Commander Erwin would be finally freed once the Jeagerists realized there was no longer and hope. They would all be free.

Shots fired from within the hanger cut short their celebration. Floch's weakened body firing without thought before Mikasa's sword finally cut him up. A deserved death in Evelyn's mind, all he had caused was trouble on top of that arrogant attitude.

"Good riddance." She muttered under her breath.

"Hange, he shot up the tank- We're grounded-!" Onyankopon's eyes were filled with terror as he surveyed the damage.

"Don't give up." One of the engineers assured him. "It'll fly if we can just fix these holes."

Collectively, they scrambled to get the welding tools and begging fixing the damage.

"How long will it take?" Concern laced Hange's voice.

"Tin is the fastest way, it shouldn't take longer than an hour."

As he reached for a set of wire cutters the ground beneath them began to shake violently.

They were too late.

"We haven't got an hour."

Evelyn followed Reiner out to estimate how much time they had left, horrified when they saw they had no time. The Rumbling was here.

They continued to march forward, the Titans refusing to stop their assault. All of the former Scouts debating amongst one another who should stay and who should go with the others.

"Go, I can cover the rear." Reiner's gaze traveled to Evelyn unbidden, if she could make it out, his death would be worth it.

"You think that's any better?" Hange's voice came from behind them, her arms laden with thunder-spears. "If we're going to stand a chance we can't use any of our Titan power yet." She paused, a determined look in her eyes. "We wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for me, I dragged you all here over the bodies of your comrades. It's time I made it right." Her gaze met those of her comrades. "When this is all over remember me when you all celebrate your victory and the end of The Rumbling. It was an honor to serve with you all." She gave them all a small smile. "Short retirement speech I know. Alright, bye guys." She turns to leave, facing her two oldest friends.

"Hey, that's your goodbye?" Levi seemed unimpressed.

"I know you get it Levi, I've been waiting so long for this. My time has come." She pauses, leaving the silence hang for a second. "So please, I want to ride the high to the end and make a really awesome exit! Let it happen, okay?"

Both the Captain and wife sort through their feelings all at once. This woman had been with them since the beginning. Teasing Levi for his quirks, daring Evelyn to do crazy stuns, dodging responsibility to research Titans. Their best friend.

A moment passes before Levi presses an enclosed fist to her chest. "Dedicate your heart."

She smiles slightly as Evelyn salutes her. "Captain."

A laugh escapes Hange's lips. "I didn't think I'd ever hear you say that. Take care of Evie for me Levi, or I might have to come back from the dead and take her myself." She tries to wink but with the loss of her eye it seems like a blink as she zips away to certain doom.

Hange's assault was taken advantage of, the Scouts only moving when told that the flying boat was prepared to move. They boarded with one last look on Hange as they took off down the runway. Her burnt body resembling that of a falling star.

Each grieved in their own way, sobbing, or silent thoughts of sadness. The only words spoken were that of Levi's.

"See you around, Hange. Just watch us."