#not this vague ''ah shit I have to pick a meal out every day for the rest of my life'' monotony

[lemememeringue]

depression is back. hit like a truck.

[damatris]

There's Harshness In Your Voice And Softness In Your Hands

May I offer you a very soft and hopefully funny concussed!Jaskier geraskier fic in these trying times? Also tagging @jaskierswolf since you’re an awesome writer and I super appreciated your kind words and encouragement! <3 This was the third fic I wrote after a 8 year break in writing prose. :’D

Pre-Geraskier, concussed!Jaskier, protective!Geralt, Fluff, And Humor wc:  2,638 Also on AO3 with The Mud Wolf song!

....

"Are we there yet?" Jaskier asked with a grin, knowing perfectly well the town was only ten minute walk away. Exasperated sigh was his only response, just as he predicted.

"I do hope I have enough time to turn your newest valiant fight into an epic tale. Spinning a song out of a mud covered Witcher and his battle with an overgrown worm might be impossible for a lesser bard but I'm sure I can manage." he continued, taking maybe slightly too much joy out of having stayed spotless while Geralt looked like he had rolled on wet ground for a good while. Which wasn't too far from the truth.

For once the hunt had been more of an annoyance than life threatening. Geralt had been hired to take care of an unidentified monster wreaking havoc on the soft soil of nearby fields, threatening the crops.

Turned out the monster was a sizable worm like creature with thick ridged skin and countless teeth similar to sharp picks in a gaping maw. Which could have been deadly if its anatomy didn't require one to stick an arm inside the mouth to be bitten. But it had been strong, squirmy and eager to burrow away forcing Geralt to drag it out of the ground with both hands more than once. It ended up more of a wrestling match than a fight before he had been able to skewer the monster with his sword.

Jaskier had been happy to offer gleeful advice and encouragement from a safe distance where flying muck couldn't reach his silk doublet.

"Really, it would make for a good ditty, something to hum while working the fields" the bard continued, demonstrating a bright tune.

"Don't." Geralt said blankly, dragging the monster's corpse. Mud was starting to flake off his face and armor leaving dusty residue. He would have to give it a throughout cleaning later. Having caked mud in armor joints could only lead to discomfort and possibility of something jamming.

"We'll see." Jaskier said and kept humming until they reached their destination.

Calling it a town might be slightly generous but it was a lively place. During the day there had been a sizable crowd of customers and sellers in the town square, children playing and general bustle of people hurrying on their errands. Even now in the twilight hours there were people walking around giving them looks ranging from disgust to fear to bafflement. Which Jaskier thought was fair enough considering a bloody carcass was being dragged by an extremely filthy Witcher down their streets.

He too would have stopped to stare at such a spectacle once upon a time. Nowadays he just witnessed the hunting of the dangerous creatures instead.

Few minutes later they separated. Geralt was off to present the proof of the completed mission to the magistrate and collect his fee while Jaskier continued to the inn they were staying at. He had a promise to keep to the owner. Not that it was any sort of a hardship. He would have performed anyway but getting free meals for both of them was a very welcome bonus.

The inn's tavern with its warmth and amiable atmosphere was a welcome change from the cooling evening. Conversations and laughter, clinking of drinks being drank and dinners being eaten filled the space with familiar sounds. It had been far too long since the last time they had stayed somewhere nice Jaskier decided. Adjusting his lute he headed toward the bar to talk with the owner.

"Hello again!" Jaskier greeted placing a coin on the counter. "Could you draw a bath in about thirty minutes or so? Not for me, don't worry. I'm ready to sing until everyone here is full of good cheer and good ale!" he ended with a wink.

"That might take quite the while knowing these folks." Oscar, a tall broad man chuckled. Noticing the lack of a looming presence he asked "Bath's for the Witcher then?"

"Absolutely! You should and will see the state he landed himself. So easy to mistake for something that crawled out of a swamp and rolled in dirt for good measure. If you hadn't already seen him, you'd swear his hair is black and skin grey. Thankfully the same fate didn't befall me." Jaskier gestured to his clothes. "Now that would have been a tragedy."

"Plenty of water needed then." Oscar nodded to himself, moving toward a patron looking for a drink. "I'll have it ready for him."

Jaskier gave a small playful bow and twirled around to spot a good place to stash his lute case.

This evening had blessed him with an appreciative audience, Jaskier mused happily. He had begun with true crowd pleasers, jaunty songs that each and everyone knew, to draw the attention and set a jovial mood before moving to his original pieces bridging the change with Toss A Coin. It truly was a great trademark and transition song with addition of people usually complying with the lyrics and handing out money. Sure, there always were some grumblers who would prefer anything over having to hear about the White Wolf in a positive light but you never could please everyone. No matter how much he would like to.

Jaskier had started on the third song detailing a hunt he had witnessed when the Witcher of the tale entered the tavern drawing all eyes and causing murmur.

"Your bard really wasn't exaggerating much." Oscar noted behind the bar with a wry smile. "There's a warm bath waiting for you upstairs. I'd make haste if I were you."

Geralt nodded his acknowledgment while taking a sweeping look at the tavern. Spotting Jaskier near the stairs leading up to the second floor he locked eyes with him for a moment before starting in that direction. While Jaskier's performance hadn't faltered even for a second it was clear he was laughing internally at Geralt's appearance. His blue eyes were sparkling with mirth as he took stock of the stiff hair and dust falling with every step.

Walking past him to the stairs Geralt grunted something that was both a thank you and a warning. Jaskier felt quite proud of how well he had learned the meanings of the various hmms and wordless grunts Geralt seemed so overly fond of.

"Filthy fucking mutant!"

Jaskier was used to being pelted with various objects by dissatisfied audiences so he didn't think anything about stepping between something flying and the Witcher's retreating back.

Until blinding pain hit him.

On a reflex Jaskier threw his arms in front of himself trying to ensure the safety of his lute as he was knocked down on his back. Trying to draw air back into his deflated lungs and focus on anything outside of the ringing in his ears, he vaguely registered a dark shape jumping over him with a curse.

It might have been a year or it might have been a second before a large hand shook his shoulder.

"Damn it Jaskier, breath!"

Ah, yes. He knew that voice. He should probably answer.

"...G'r'lt..." not the most eloquent but passable. It was kind of hard to force words out when you had to think about breathing. Maybe he should go back to practicing basics if saying one word clearly took that much air. How had he ever sang possessing such a horrendous breathing technique?

"Look at me."

But he already was? Oh, wait. That darkness wasn't Geralt's black armor. He just had his eyes closed. But who was he to deny the chance of looking at Geralt's eyes? They were so beautiful after all. With herculean task he blinked and, behold, those molten yellow eyes were intensely staring at his. Such perfection surrounded by dancing stars.

"Can you sit up?"

Should be simple enough but he would need his hands. And they were...

"M' lute...?"

"Of fucking course you would worry about your lute. You're clutching it."

Ah. Good. Everything was fine in that case. Case. Where was his lute case? No, he had put it down before performing. Should be safe. Even if he couldn't recall where it was. Maybe he could ask Geralt. He could just-

"Sniff 'nd find" it with his strange strange Witcher senses. Seemed like a good plan. Geralt would know the scent.

"What the everlasting fuck Jaskier? How hard did that tankard hit your head?"

But tankards weren't for hitting? Why would he have…? Ah. Yes. He must have stepped in front of it now that he thought about it. Still, who would throw one? If you wanted to throw something at a person then-

"Coins ar' good, bre'd okay."

"That's it. I'm taking him to our room."

Jaskier had never realized he could levitate but suddenly he wasn't on the floor anymore. It felt much more safe and warm than he would have thought. And weirdly dusty. Also, Geralt's face was very close. Very, very close. So very close. It was distracting him from the experience. It was unfair how-

"Handsome." Geralt was. Robbing him the chance of experiencing flight. The bastard.

"If you mumble nonsense then you can just shut up."

Rude.

Shit, Jaskier thought. He wasn't levitating anymore. He had missed his chance of enjoying it. Suddenly also the warmth and Geralt's face were gone. No, there was Geralt again. But why wasn't his hair white? It was even in the name. The White Wolf. Not-

"The Mud Wolf."

"Really Jaskier? Not even coherent and you make insults?"

Geralt was an insult. With his pretty eyes and pretty lips and strong arms. Arms…? Maybe Jaskier didn't know how to levitate after all. Maybe Geralt-

"Carried me?" Huh. That would have been even better to register than levitating. If he asked would Geralt do it again while hiding his stupid good looking face? No, probably not.

"Yes."

He would? Wait, no. It was an affirmation for being carried, Jaskier realized with disappointment. He was prevented from brooding by something wet and stinging touching his forehead. He wanted it to-

"Stop. Hurts."

"Stay still. I need to clean this."

Geralt was the one who had wrestled a worm, not him. Heh, that's why he was The Mud Wolf! Didn't explain why his forehead needed cleaning though. Jaskier took a deep breath and tried to focus. Worm, tavern, performing, Geralt coming in. Then it got fuzzy. But hadn't there been a mention of a-

"Tankard. I got hit by a tankard?"

"Finally. Yes Jaskier, you were an absolute idiot and stepped in its path." a relieved sigh passed Geralt's lips.

"You were already in its path." Jaskier accused him wincing against a new stab of pain. Geralt should be thankful. Who knew that an overglorified cup could hurt this much?

"I was the target. It would have hit my back. While wearing an armor. If I hadn't caught it first."

"..." Jaskier blamed his lack of a comeback on concussion. Having one would explain everything. "Please don't say a child threw it and managed to knock me out."

There was an amused huff. "No, it was an adult. One that has a far worse headache."

"They managed this while concus-? You gave them one!" Jaskier crowed pleased with his returning mental skills. "Ooh, I wish I could have seen it. I hope they lost a lot of teeth! And have a broken nose."

"Probably, didn't check. I had more important things to do." Geralt answered prodding Jaskier's head. It didn't look too bad now that the blood was gone. An ugly bruise was quickly forming on a sizeable bump but the cut wasn't long or deep. Shouldn't even leave a scar. Head wounds just bled like a bitch as Geralt knew from personal experience.

"I'm important?" Jaskier breathed with wide eyes and hanging mouth.

Of course. That would be his take away, Geralt thought. Not that he was wrong but…

"Hmmm."

"Dear Melitele, am I hallucinating?" Jaskier whispered lifting his arm to cup Geralt's cheek. And would have promptly poked him in the eye if Geralt hadn't snatched his hand.

"Geralt of Rivia admitting to care about someone? This must be a first!" a familiar sparkle was returning to Jaskier's pinched eyes. He moved their interlocked hands to take a better look. It wasn't particularly romantic with Geralt holding his wrist but Jaskier would take it.

Just as the thought crossed his mind Geralt let go and his arm flopped bonelessly back on the bed. He didn't remember his hands weighting that much. Weird. Combined with his lute he must have far more strength than he had guessed to be able to play for whole nights with no problem.

"Geralt, where's my lute?" Jaskier suddenly panicked trying to get up to look for it. He was screwed if someone had stolen or, god forbid, broken it. All he got for his attempt was splitting pain.

"Your priorities are fucked up." Geralt stated picking a potion and bandage out of his bag. "It's in the corner. Oscar brought it with the case."

"Excuse me! It's my tool of trade, my life line and…" Jaskier trailed off frowning.

"I'll finish that after I've slept." he sniffed radiating offense.

"You do that. Now, stay still." Geralt drawled. Swiping the cut one last time he covered it with gauze.

It might not be strictly necessary but he was quite sure Jaskier would tear it open at least few times with his animated expressions. And, it made him feel slightly better if he was honest. Realizing the bard had purposefully stepped in front of him and crumpled down like a sack of potatoes had been shocking. Just thinking about it made him want to tear the culprit apart piece by piece.

What in the world had driven Jaskier to do it was a mystery. He should be perfectly aware a flying mug was no danger for a Witcher.

"Drink." Geralt ordered shoving the potion toward Jaskier.

Jaskier did make a valiant effort to take the potion but kept missing the mark until Geralt placed it in his hand with an exasperated sigh. Shakily he drank the concoction without hesitation until the bottle was empty, Geralt helping him lift his head enough not to choke.

"Wait. What was that? You always go on and on how your strange Witcher potions are not for us weak fragile humans. You wouldn't poison me after all this time, right? Geralt?" Jaskier suddenly worried.

"If I wanted you dead I'd have killed you long ago. And not with poison." Geralt answered blankly.

"It's just painkiller. You can sleep now. I'll keep waking you up to make sure last of your brain cells didn't rattle loose." he continued lifting the blanket for Jaskier to wrap it around himself.

"That's offensive. I'll let you know I have plenty of commonsense…" Jaskier protested weakly eyelids fluttering.

"Sure. As much as a toddler." Geralt granted. Softer, he prompted Jaskier to close his eyes. "Sleep. You'll feel better after."

"... Uh-huh…" came the eloquent answer. Just before he succumbed to his exhaustion, Jaskier could have sworn he felt gentle hand carding through his hair.

Also on AO3 with The Mud Wolf song!

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Mine Now

Summary: You’d been in the gang for a while now, and you’re sure that a certain blue-eyed cowboy has some feelings for you.

@verai-marcel‘s high honor/low honor writings intrigue me, so I wanted to take a page from her book and try it myself!

Tags and warnings: Violence, alcohol, smut, body worship, rough sex, overstimulation, slight dom/sub undertones

“Y/N.”

Settled on a crate just outside your tent, you peered up from the book you were reading. Arthur, one of your favorite people, stalked up to you, stopping just a couple of feet away.

“Whatcha readin’?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Ah, just some novel I grabbed last time we were in Valentine.” you responded.

“’Sit any good?”

You shrugged half-heartedly in response. “It’s okay,” you sighed, though it kept you from being bored all day. “Did you need something?”

He shifted in place, his eyes leaving yours to stare at the ground for a moment. He was silent at first, slowly lifting his head to meet you gaze again. “I got tip of a stagecoach headin’ towards Flatneck Station, holdin’ somethin’ good. ‘Sposed to be transferred to a train goin’ west. Gonna try and get it ‘for then. You in?” he asked.

Curiosity piqued, you put your book down. “Sure. Anyone else coming along?”

He shook his head. “Nah, jus’ you and me,” he paused. “That ain’t a problem, is it?”

“Of course not,” you answered immediately and stood up, smiling at him. “Just gimme a few minutes to get ready.”

He nodded, returning with a small smile of his own. “Ya know where to find me, then.”

Within ten minutes, you had gathered your supplies and mounted your horse. You rode with Arthur, side by side, loping down a dirt path in the forest. Arthur asking you to do missions with him wasn’t new; however, this was the first time you and him went alone together.

It’d been almost a year since you’d joined the infamous Van der Linde gang, being picked up by an enthusiastic Dutch after you tried to pickpocket him. You remember him entering a saloon with such a swagger that screamed rich. You were at the bar, scouting the crowd for some drunken fools that could unknowingly leave with lighter pockets that night.

You always got away with it, and you almost did that time. Hadn’t been for that same man riding alongside you that caught your action in the first place. You tried to scamper away, attempting to lose them by disappearing into the crowd. You’d managed to get outside, though ultimately cornered by two men shortly after. You however held your ground, defending yourself of your thievery by trying to smooth talk your way out of it.

Neither of them were convinced, though Dutch seemed intrigued by you. After a few minutes of talking, he offered you a place in his gang. And you, having nothing but the clothes on your back, agreed.

Life before the gang wasn’t easy. You’d been on your own since you were sixteen; your mother had died when you were very young. Your father, a somewhat poor farmer, had always tried his best to keep you fed and happy. He unfortunately had an accident while chopping wood, and despite your best efforts, his wound turned gangrenous without money for proper medicine. And without any known family nearby, there was not much you could do.

Originally you’d gotten a job delivering groceries for a shopkeeper. The job wasn’t glamorous and the pay wasn’t the best, it still meant three hot meals and a bed to sleep in. After a few years, the shopkeeper had passed in his sleep, and the shop was sold back to the town, leaving you once again with nothing.

You did a few odd jobs here and there, even had your hand at being a deluxe bathgirl. It didn’t last long due to the sheer amount of perverts that would come your way. Eventually, you’d come across a small group of thieves who taught you their ways. Rather than robbing people at gunpoint, they taught you to have nimble fingers and how to be sneaky. It was a decent setup, until one got a little too greedy and found himself on the noose just a day later. The others scattered, leaving you to fend for yourself once again.

You’d been on your own for a couple of months until Dutch and Arthur found you.

For the first time in a while, being a part of this gang felt like having a family again. A diverse band of outlaws that each welcomed you with open arms.

With your quick hands, you soon learned how to expertly wield a gun. Arthur was the one who taught you, and even gave you your first; a Cattleman revolver that sat holstered on your hip. With your newly found skills to parallel your current ones, you soon became a valued member of the group. Whether it was robbing stagecoaches in the cover of night, or dressing up all fancy and slipping your hands into the coat pockets of unsuspecting coal giants, you were one of the first people to be asked. And you always accepted.

Every single mission was alongside Arthur. Even when on the rare occasion you weren’t chosen for one, Arthur would ask for you to come along anyway.

Admittedly, something about him intrigued you. He was usually quiet, though held an air of authority to him that most of the others respected. You didn’t know too much about him, only prying out bits and pieces when you talked. The times when he was drunk he’d spill a little more, but other than that, a lot of his life was a mystery to you. Even when you’d ask, he’d shrug and mumble something vague. He was a little bolder when it came to confronting people, a show of his strength that was reserved for the direr of occasions.

That still didn’t stop him from sitting next to you at the campfire on most nights, or wishing you a good night when you went to bed. He was always the first one to speak to you in the mornings as well.

Every time, you’d feel your heart flutter a little faster.

You couldn’t help but to feel something for him. He was older, something you appreciated since anyone your age had a one-track mind, especially in the situations you’d found yourself in on more than one occasion.

He was also handsome. The way those blue eyes stared at you, sometimes you feel as if you could melt on the spot.

“Hey, Y/N,” his voice snapped you from your thoughts. “We’re almost there.”

You nodded silently and focused on the road ahead. The forest was thinning out into an expanse of a field ahead. You spotted the stagecoach, though the station still a little too far to see. This was good, meaning you were still early enough to intercept it before the train. Arthur slowed his horse to a trot and you did the same.

“What do you wanna do?” you asked, looking at him.

“Your call this time.” He said, tilting his head toward you.

You blinked in surprise. You’d never called the shots before. “Er, why?” you asked.

He shrugged. “You been with us for a while. I wanna see how you do things. You alright with that?”

Well, this was new. “Okay…” you began, observing the stagecoach. It was fairly small; with two horses and one guy steering. That didn’t account for who was inside, but you’ve handled more with ease. There was also a lockbox on the back, which most likely held the loot. “We’ll make it easy. You distract, I’ll get into that lockbox.”

“Alright,” Arthur said. “We got a plan then.”

You smiled at his approval. Even though you’ve had your fair share of kills, you would prefer to leave without bloodshed if you could help it.

He sped up, galloping into the forest to go wide around, briefly disappearing within the trees. You kept behind, far enough so no one would be alerted of your presence. Within a few minutes, Arthur had effectively stopped the coach. Hiding behind the thicket, you hopped off your horse and carefully snuck forward, taking care not to rustle any bushes.

As you got closer, you heard Arthur speaking to the driver. You kept your eyes forward, careful not to kick any rocks or step on any sticks along the road.

“…don’t mean to bother ya, just need a little bit of direction…” Arthur’s voice sounded. Though you were focused on the box, your ears were trained to listen for any issues. So far it was a normal conversation.

You’d reached the back of the carriage, and you pulled out your lock picking kit. Keeping yourself steady, you began to work at the lock. You heard Arthur trying to prolong the conversation, and you quickened your pace. Within a few short moments, you heard the satisfying click of the lock releasing. You let out a silent breath of relief and flipped the lid up, and was graced with the sight of a few fat stacks of bills.

You grinned and grabbed them all, stuffing them into your satchel.

“Hey!”

You froze, eyes widening as you looked up. One of the passengers had poked his head out, and was glaring at you.

Shit.

You only had time to roll out of the way when shots were fired at you, and you fumbled with your revolver, pulling it out of the holster before throwing yourself behind a nearby boulder for cover. Arthur shouted something, and more gunfire was heard, along with thundering hoofbeats.

You peered over, quickly taking a view of the fight. The driver was dead, though the passengers – four of them – came running out of the coach, guns out. Arthur circled around on his horse, firing at them.

You took your chance, taking a deep breath and aimed. It were as if time slowed down while you hyper-focused on your shots, pulling the trigger flawlessly and effectively nailing each in the head in a split second with crimson splatter. It was a little trick Arthur had taught you, and has proved to come in handy in dire situations.

The others were out of your vision, though swears filled the air along with multiple gunshots. Leaving your cover of the boulder, you hurriedly pinned yourself to the carriage, peering around to the other side. The two men were firing into the woods, though you couldn’t see Arthur.

While they were distracted, you aimed and quickly fired, leaving a hole in the skull of one as he lifelessly flopped forward into the grass. The other turned around in shock, yet had no time to react when another gunshot rang out. The bullet had flown through his eye socket, the surprise still plastered on his face as he joined his comrade on the ground.

Heart pounding, you stepped out into the open, squinting to see Arthur still on his horse, trotting out of the cover of the woods. “Arthur!” you sighed in relief.

“Y/N?” Arthur called out, coming up to your side. You could see concern plain on his face. “You alright?” he hopped off his horse, stepping somewhat close to you, his eyes traveling up and down to look for any damage. He held his hand out as if to place it on your shoulder, but kept those few inches of distance.

“Yeah,” you responded breathlessly, holstering your gun and brushing off the dirt and leaves sticking to your clothes from your brief meeting with nature. “That was close.”

The relief he expressed was visible. He put his hand down. “Yeah it was,” he glanced over at the now five dead bodies littering the path. “So much for the sneaky approach.”

“Well, we got out alive,” you pointed out with a smile. “And without a scratch.”

He nodded in agreement, and gestured to your bag. “How much ya get?”

You pulled the money from your satchel, taking a few moments to count them out. “Three thousand.” You announced.

Arthur’s eyebrows raised in surprise, soon replaced with a triumphant grin. “Glad to see that lead weren’t a dud.”

“Hell yeah,” you agreed, splitting the money three ways. You gave him his share, tucking away the rest: some for you, and some for the camp. “Let’s get back, shall we?” you added and whistled for your horse.

---

“Whoa, that’s a nice cut!”

“Good job guys!”

“Damn, Arthur, Y/N. You really got a good one!”

The praises that befell you two when you returned from camp were endless, the air filled with whoops and cheers. It’d been a bit of a dry spell as of late; robberies gone wrong or false leads. This put a damper on the camp, and this news had brightened everyone’s spirits.

As some of the boys gathered around to congratulate you, you couldn’t help but to notice Arthur had stepped back from the crowd. His head was tilted to hide his eyes underneath his hat, though you noticed a slight frown set on his lips.

You were soon distracted when Karen came up, pressing a bottle of beer into everyone’s hands for a celebration.

It’d been late afternoon when you got back, and it darkened to night as the liquid celebrations ensued. After a while, you were a few beers in and sporting a decent buzz. You chatted with the others, your lips a little looser under the influence of the alcohol.

At some point you’d glanced toward the campfire. Arthur was sitting there, along with a couple of others. All of them were drinking, though the latter were chatting amongst one another whilst Arthur remained quiet, seemingly lost in thought.

What was he thinking about? You, perhaps? You knew he felt something for you, he must have. Why else would he ask you to accompany him for that robbery, alone? But the poor boy is probably too shy to come out with it. Maybe you could give him a push…

You swaggered over, giving an airy greeting to the boys. Glancing down at Arthur, he offered a small smile though said nothing. A thought crossed your mind, and before you could think on it further, you acted on it. Standing in front of him, you bent down and sat directly on his lap.

You felt him freeze underneath you. “Y/N-”

“Hey Morgan, got your good luck charm there?” Bill teased with a laugh.

“Seems more than a good luck charm.” Javier added.

You giggled and wrapped an arm around Arthur’s neck, taking a swig from your drink before turning your head to look at him. Even in the orange glow of the fire, you could see the surprise plain on his face.

You also noticed he didn’t rebut Bill or Javier.

“Should we leave you two alone?” Lenny chimed in.

“Ah, it’s all harmless!” you shot back with a smile. “Arthur don’t mind.” As you said that, you turned your head to look at him again, noting his eyes were bright, intense. His hands hesitantly rested on your hips, and you shifted yourself closer in encouragement.

The others chuckled like schoolgirls, though you didn’t care. Arthur’s still surprised gaze was on you, though gave no intention that he was uncomfortable. In fact, you’re pretty sure he subtly pulled you even closer.

Maybe now he’ll get the message.

“Actually, I’m going back to my tent for a bit.” you announced, untangling yourself from Arthur to stand back up. You could have sworn his hands lingered on your hips before you were up completely. Turning your head and giving him a subtle wink, you sauntered toward your tent at the edge of camp.

---

High Honor

You pushed back the flap of your tent, your heart pounding as you walked in. Beer had taken the edge off, yet you weren’t drunk enough to feel shameless about what had happened. It surely seemed like a good idea at the moment.

You hoped you were right. You sat on the edge of your cot and waited, hoping he understood you. A few minutes had passed and nothing had happened.

You were sure you’d made a fool of yourself, and Arthur will probably never talk to you again, or scold you for even attempting such a bold move. How stupid you were to think he thought of you more than just a fellow gang member. It will certainly be an awkward discussion in the morning with the others.

Your thoughts were soon derailed when the sound of footsteps drawing close to your tent caught your attention. You blinked, seeing a familiar silhouette step up, standing on the other side of the canvas. Could it be?

“Y/N? Can I come in?” Arthur’s voice sounded.

Oh, shit. Was he going to yell at you now? “Go ahead.” You answered, fighting to keep your voice steady.

The flap opened again, and Arthur stepped inside. His gaze was once again hidden by his hat. His posture didn’t indicate anger. In fact, he seemed to be nervous. It reminded you of how he approached you earlier that day.

The silence between you was deafening. You weren’t exactly sure what to say to him, and it appeared that he didn’t either.

You took a deep breath, decidedly initiating the conversation. “Uh, s-sorry about that. I’m kinda tipsy.” You admitted, hoping that he’d accept the behavior from your inebriation.

He slowly looked at you. “No need to be. I, uh, I actually…” his eyes darted downward again, trailing off as if he couldn’t find the words. He seemed more nervous than you at the moment.

You blinked, standing up slowly. “You…”

He gave a soft sigh. “I actually…liked that.” he rubbed the back of his neck.

Eyes widening, you responded with a quick exhale. “What? Really?”

He continued to fidget in place, the anxiety coming off him in waves as he tried to muster up his next words. You waited patiently, although you knew what he was going to say. “Y/N, I…well, I like you. I like you a lot.”

The weight that sat in your stomach lifted so much it felt as if you could fly right then and there. “Really?” you gasped.

He nodded, looking at you fully once again. “I have for a while. Hell, I’ve liked ya since you joined us.”

“And you never said anything?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to earlier, but I got kinda nervous. Wasn’t sure if you liked me back. Wouldn’t blame ya if you didn’t.”

You frowned at his response. “Why would you say that?”

“Well, I ain’t the prettiest to look at. I ain’t the youngest either. Wouldn’t think you’d waste your time with someone like me, when you could be with anyone else.”

Your stomach churned at his words. You never knew he had such a low opinion about himself. You reached out and entwined your fingers with his. “Well, Arthur Morgan. Listen to me when I say, I like you too.”

He glanced down at your hands. His lips parted as if to say something, yet no words were formed. It took him a good minute for he asked, “Why?”

You stepped closer to him, closing the space between you two. Releasing his hands, one of yours went to gently cup his cheek. His stubble was rough against the soft skin your palm. “Because you respect me. You see me for a person and not just a thief or some girl with a pretty face. And you’re a lot more mature than any guy my age.”

He chuckled at that last bit. “‘Spose I got that goin’ for me.”

“And you’re damn good looking too,” you added, reaching up to take his hat off, revealing his face in full. “Don’t know why you’d think differently.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off with a kiss. He once again stiffened in surprise, but soon eased into your touch. His arms slowly wrapped around your waist, holding you close as your lips moved quietly against his.

A long moment passed before he pulled back for air. His gaze was soft and loving, all for you. A rush of heat spread through your cheeks. The two of you were holding back feelings for far too long.

You kissed again, exhibiting much more passion now. His grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you closer to him. The heat of his body radiated against yours, and you pressed even closer. The space closed between you elicited a soft groan from him, a sweet melody that sent a fire elsewhere within your body.

A presence made itself known against your thigh. Before you could make sense of it, Arthur stepped back, releasing you and turning himself away in embarrassment. “Sorry…” he murmured. “I should get goin’…”

“No.” You whispered, reaching out and grabbed his hand again. “Stay, it’s okay.”

He blinked in confusion. “You sure?”

You nodded silently, tugging him back toward you. “If that’s how you feel about me, then act on it.” In the dimness of your tent, you could see the bulge that rested behind his jeans. How far could this go? Your free hand twitched forward, slowly, your eyes never leaving his. He didn’t stop you, or move away. Laying gently along his hardness, you palmed him slowly. You were rewarded with a soft groan, the uneasiness melting from his being.

“I ain’t been with a woman in a long time,” he shyly admitted to you, his hips slightly pitching forward vainly searching for more friction. “I may not be what you expect.”

“You’re perfect either way,” you assured him, running your hands up his torso to rest on his chest. He made a small noise of disbelief, and you gently shushed him. “Let me prove it.”

He was silent this time, watching you as you nimbly began to unbutton his shirt. One by one, revealing the expanse of his pecs. Once completely undone, you pushed the fabric aside to reveal more. Your hands began to explore him, admiring hard muscles underneath scarred skin. Every ridge and plane didn’t go untouched. Your fingertips roved every part of him before finally resting at his waist, hovering above his pants.

Reaching up, you whispered in his ear to lay down. Without questioning, he did so, his eyes never leaving you. He looked so beautiful and vulnerable in this position. Carefully, you straddled him, leaning over to give him a gentle kiss. “You’re beautiful,” Your murmured against his lips, moving down to kiss every scar you’d found before. “Every part of you.”

“Darlin’…” he sighed, rubbing his fingers through your hair. You smiled at this, knowing your words were beginning to take effect.

Kissing below his navel, you made quick work of his belt and buttons. Pushing aside the restraints, his length was revealed to you, standing straight and waiting. He certainly had a bit of girth to him, and your mouth watered at the thought of having it inside you.

You wrapped your hand gingerly around him, hearing another soft sigh passing his lips. You kneeled in between his legs, pumping your hand once. His eyes fluttered.

“Arthur,” you said gently. “Look at me.”

He focused onto you, his hands taking place on your waist.

“What a beautiful sight, you are,” you murmured, pumping your hand at a slow and steady rhythm. “Don’t you think?”

“…Y-yes.” he stuttered hesitantly, eliciting a low groan.

“And you’re perfect the way you are, right?”

“Right…” he moaned, keeping his eyes on you.

“Good boy.” you purred, leaning down to sweetly kiss him. He deepened it, his tongue exploring your mouth heatedly as your hand sped up. You could feel his fingers playing with the fabric of your pants, tugging your shirt free from them. His rough hands found their way underneath, though let a muffled hiss of annoyance to find your chemise was blocking him.

You giggled, sitting up to shrug your shirt off. Your chemise was soon to follow, exposing your upper half to him. He wasted no time in reaching for you.

“You feel so soft, so nice…” he murmured, one hand sliding up your midline, stopping between your breasts as the other gripped one, kneading it within his palm. The sensation felt great, sending a flash of fire straight down to your core.

“You feel nice too,” you added, your hand returning to his length to solidify your statement. “Can’t wait you have you inside me…” the more you played with him, the greater the heat made its presence, pooling as moisture in your undergarments.

He hissed out a swear. “Shit, Y/N. I want you…”

Oh how you wanted him too. But you wanted to prolong this moment, make it memorable between the two of you. Most importantly, you wanted Arthur to feel good about himself. “Touch me, Arthur,” you breathed. “Prove me how good of a man you are.”

He sat up slowly, never breaking his held gaze. He continued to massage your breasts as his other hand slinked down, unbuttoning your pants.

His calloused fingers parted your lower lips, finding his target with ease. A moan escaped your mouth as he danced slow circles upon your bundle of nerves. Your hands rested on his shoulders, partially for balance, almost melting from his touch.

You praised him, your breathless compliments were like music to his ears. You could see that smile growing, his touch becoming more fervent the more you spoke. Pleasure coursed through your veins, and your back arched, pressing your breasts to his chest. A noise of appreciation escaped his throat, and he leaned down to kiss your soft flesh. He nibbled lightly along the crook of your neck, across your collarbone, and along your nipples. A gasp uttered from you, shivering as his lips and teeth toyed with the sensitive nubs.

Peak on the rise, you ran your fingers through Arthur’s hair. “You’re so good, Arthur...” you purred to him. “I’m close. Keep going.”

He peeked up at you, and slipped a finger in. Feverishly working your inner walls, he brought into a smooth, deep kiss. Arms around his neck, you gladly accepted it, hot breaths mixing and your moans muffled. Ecstasy pulsed like fire in your veins, filling you up to your very center. It was coming, and quick. You broke the kiss, reaching your orgasm as you sang out a moan. Your hips shuddered, grinding languidly against his palm as you rode out the last waves of it.

Your heart raced and your face flushed, you gazed lustfully at Arthur. He pulled his hand out, marveling how soaked his fingers had become.

“Is that to your likin’, sweetheart?” He asked, giving you a look of expectant curiosity while his voice radiated need for approval.

“Mmm, I think so,” you gave a soft giggle, idly twirling a lock of his hair around your finger. “No man has made me come to my orgasm the way you just did.”

You swore you’d never seen a man blush so hard.

“And I want you to do it again…” you whispered, getting up to pull his pants off the rest of the way, exposing him completely to you. Your own pants were to follow, though taking your time to shimmy them down your hips. Arthur watched, eyes wide, reflecting a hunger that lurked beneath the surface. Bringing yourself to straddle his hips, you hovered yourself over him. “By taking me completely.”

His lips parted slightly, though his words died in his throat when you’d rubbed your folds across the pinkened head, coating him with your slick. His hands found their way to your hips again, though from the shudder that rippled through his chest, he staved off the urge to force you onto him. “Fuck…” was all he said in a strained voice.

Slowly at first, you began the descent that allowed him to stretch your inner walls. Inch by inch, filling your core, biting your lip and wincing a little as you adjusted to his size. He watched you in awe, taking him whole as you seated yourself completely on his lap.

And then, you started to move.

The slight pain from before had disappeared completely, the friction absolutely amazing. You gripped on his shoulders, using the added leverage to roll your hips on him. A slow place, though lovely all the same. His grip tightened, not enough to hurt. He let out a small groan, leaning forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder. Another swear escaped his lips.

“Y/N…Jesus, you feel…so amazin’.” He rumbled, kissing your shoulder.

You could only moan in response, increasing your movement against him. He began to lightly thrust into you, keeping in sync with your motions. His deep, guttural moans vibrated pleasantly. His teeth ravaged your skin again, knowing you’ll have marks later on.

His hands moved to your back, bringing you even closer to him. Pressed together, he drove himself further upward into you, dragging along your sweet spot. You trembled in his arms, tilting your head up to let out a moan, keeping your voice steady to not alert the entire camp of your pleasure.

“You sound beautiful, sweetheart.” Arthur marveled, tilting his own head up to kiss along your neck. His stubble tickled you pleasantly, all the while he continued to subtly push himself toward your pleasure.

“So do you,” you mewled. “You’re d-doing marvelous.” Caressing his face, you kissed his forehead, his cheeks, and finally on his lips. Fingers slinked through his sandy hair, with every loving and gentle touch he groaned in appreciation.

Briefly breaking his lips away, his arms wrapped around you. Strong and warm, he lifted you off his lap and laid you on your cot. The feeling of emptiness was short, him sliding back in with one smooth motion. His eyes never left yours as he placed his hands on either side of you.

He thrust slowly, deeply, kissing you again to staunch your whine. You lifted your legs and wrapped them around his waist, allowing an even deeper angle for him.

He moved faster, harder, rocking your body to the very center. Your second was on the rise, advancing too quickly for you to even fully comprehend. Your voice heightened to alert him, your nails dragging along his solid back.

Arthur pulled back a few inches, giving you a stare so intense that it almost made you blush. “You close?” and when you nodded, he quickened his pace.

The explosion radiated from your core, ascending into you moaning out his name. As the fire ebbed from your belly, your shaking legs fell limp as his hips started to shudder.

“Shit, I’m close too.” He groaned, his thrusts becoming faster and shallower with abandon. You could only cling to him as he chased his own peak. In seconds he pulled out of you, rubbing himself between your folds before releasing his spend across your belly with a guttural moan.

With both of you panting, Arthur met your eyes once again. His face was flushed, though his eyes were bright and soft. It was quiet, no words were exchanged for that first moment of post-copulation bliss.

You spoke first after catching your breath. “That felt amazing, Arthur.”

He smiled shyly, leaning down to plant a sweet, gentle kiss on your lips. “It did.” He straightened up, taking in the sight of your sweaty, fatigued body with a look of marvel. He’d reached for his bandana and wiped away the mess he’d left on your stomach. This faintly surprised you at how much of a gentleman he was. His gaze swept over your cot. “Uh, may I?” he asked, gesturing to the space next to you.

You smiled up at him, scooting over to create more room. “You may.”

He took the space next to you, though there wasn’t much room on your cot. He pulled your blanket on top of the two of you before he wrapped his arms around your torso.

You pressed yourself closer to him, snuggling into the crook of his body. He felt warm and slightly slick with sweat, though you didn’t mind.

A wide yawn escaped Arthur’s mouth. “Can’t believe we just did that…” he mumbled, nuzzling the back of your neck.

You turned your head to look at him. “Why?”

“Bein’ able to lay with someone as amazin’ as you, I only dreamed of it,” he explained, the lull in his voice accompanied his drowsiness. “Didn’t think you’d have feelings for me as well.”

Arthur,” you cooed, laying a tender hand upon his cheek. “I think I just proved to you how you make me feel. That ain’t gonna change.”

He hummed in response, turning his head to kiss your palm. “I’d hope not. Cause after this, I’d like to call you mine. If that’s okay.”

You smiled widely at him, turning to kiss him once again. “Of course it’s okay.”

---

Low Honor

Your heart leapt to your throat the moment you’d stepped into your tent. Had you really just done that? It was a bold move, even by your standards. Despite the shame that loomed, an active giddiness took a hold of you.

You paced in your tent, unable to calm yourself down. Blood thundered in your ears, every second felt like an eternity. Arthur had to have gotten the message at that point. If he didn’t take your hint, then you couldn’t imagine the endless testing you’d get for weeks from the boys afterward. Even worse, you were afraid Arthur may never even speak to you again.

Despite the pounding of your heart, you heard footsteps stalking up to your tent.

The flap fell open, revealing Arthur as he slid inside. Your eyes widened, and he stopped before you, his hands gripping his belt in a domineering way that could have made you weak at the knees.

“You mind tellin’ me what the hell did that was about, Y/N?” He asked in a low voice.

Was he angry? Your mind flipped back and forth between rational thought and a cheeky response. The alcohol had tossed better intuition out the window. “Your lap looked cold, thought I’d warm it up.” You responded simply, folding your arms.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “That so? Why would you think that?”

“I think you know, Arthur.”

His eyes caught yours, a firm gaze that you held evenly. He then swept his gaze over you, his tongue darting out between his lips as if looking at a delicious meal. “Do I? Then tell me.” He challenged.

God, that voice. “I think you like me.” you said simply.

He stepped closer to you, stopping within inches. “S’that whatcha think, huh?”

You nodded silently, forcing yourself to keep still. His entire being instilled a fear in you while simultaneously igniting a thrill that sent fire through your veins.

The hunger in his eyes intensified. “Can’t say you’re wrong,” he chuckled slightly. He reached towards your face, tucking a stray lock behind your ear before running his fingers through your hair. You were surprised by this gentle action, though you didn’t object it. “You have no idea what the hell you do to me, woman.” He growled in an almost animalistic way.

You didn’t respond, you couldn’t, as he gripped the back of your head to pull you in for a kiss.

You stiffened at first, unsure how to take this. His other hand held you in place by your jaw, although not tight enough hurt. You relaxed after a moment, melting to him as his tongue prodded its way past your lips. You tasted the liquor he’d been drinking, as well as a faint tang of tobacco.

Moving his hand from your head, he placed it on the small of your back. “Been wantin’ ya for a while,” he said in between kisses. “Since that day you tried to rob Dutch.”

You felt your face flush in surprise. “Really?” you whispered against his mouth.

“Wanted to take ya then and there.” He growled to you, pressing his hips against yours. The warm line beneath his jeans made itself known against your mound.

You gave a slight gasp, not expecting to feel that. You however stood in your place. “Wh-why didn’t you?” you stammered, keeping your eyes on his face.

“Decided to step back n’ watch,” he continued. “See how ya fit in with the gang.” He moved his hands to hold your hips, locking you against his body. “But seein others try to be sweet on ya, made me jealous. Surprised ya didn’t go for anyone else.”

“No one really stuck out to me, not like you.” you admitted.

A growl emitted from his chest, no doubt pleased with your words. “Wanted to say somethin’ earlier at the robbery, but it didn’t feel like the right time. Couldn’t help but to be jealous again, when everyone was surroundin’ you. I wanted to pull you out n’ take you to my tent.”

Your face grew hot again. “Arthur-”

He cut you off with another kiss, even rougher than the first. He pressed his weight to you, making you back up until the back of your legs hit your cot. “But now I got you here,” He whispered. “Been waitin’ a long time for this.”

Leaning onto you, his weight forcing you to sit and lie back. His mouth attached to your neck, sucking and nipping your skin. You shuddered from the sensation, letting out a small moan. He reached for your shirt, nimbly unbuttoning it before peeling it off, then pushing the fabric of your chemise aside to expose your breasts. He wasted no time in tweaking your nipples, rolling them in between his fingers. You bit your lip, shuddering underneath him.

“God…” you mewled, feeling a warmth pool between your legs.

“That feel good, darlin’?” he asked, his mouth resting on your pulse point.

“Y-yes,” You answered with a wavering voice. “Please, more.”

He chuckled, gripping one breast to caress it with his tongue. He swirled around your nipple, sucked on it, stimulating you in ways you’d never dreamed of. His other hand slinked down the front of your body, making quick work of sliding into your pants.

“Wet already?” his fingers found your center immediately.

You whined in response, shuddering as he toyed with you. Mere minutes had passed by before he slipped a finger in, and then another, slightly stretching you out as he vainly sought your climax. Your hands clawed at his shoulder, his back, anything to hang on to, your body feeling almost limp to his touch. “Arthur!” you gasped, unable to form any other words.

“Go on, princess. Let me feel it.”

Your peak hit quick, expelling a rush of liquid into the palm of his hand. You cried out weakly, your entire body trembling from the sudden onset of your orgasm.

“Good girl,” he reached up to pet your head before standing up straight and pulling you back to your feet. He pressed on your shoulders, making you kneel on the ground. You peered up at him curiously, wondering what was next. Appreciating him from this angle gave you a rush.

He began to unbuckle his belt, and then his pants. Pulling his hard cock from its restraints, he prodded your lips with the tip. “Go on.”

Oh. You’d only heard of this maneuver, though had never seen it in action or attempted it yourself. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to try. You opened your mouth slightly, easing the tip slowly inside. Your tongue swirled around it carefully, turning your eyes upward for a reaction.

He let out a soft moan, his hand returning to your head. You took a little more of him in your mouth, inch by inch until you were almost at his root. He was wide, taking up more room than you’d thought. His hips twitched slightly, a small movement to indicate for you to continue.

And you did, slowly bobbing your head along his length.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Arthur rumbled, petting your head once again. “Make that pretty lil’ mouth work.”

You hummed around him, adding vibration against his sensitive shaft. His hand added some pressure to the back of your head, prompting you to go faster. His groans sent a thrill through you, pooling once again in your already soaked undergarments. Daring to go further, you reached up and fondled his balls.

He uttered a small gasp, his hips bucking forward slightly. “Darlin’,” he hissed. “You gonna make me cum before I’m ready.”

You giggled lowly, giving him one more good rub before focusing on his length once again. He bucked further, and you felt him hit the back of your throat. You fought the urge to gag around him, closing your eyes and allowing him to fuck your throat.

“Look at you, takin’ me so well,” Arthur cooed, reaching down to caress your cheek. “You’re so pretty from this angle.”

You made a noise of appreciation, surprisingly enjoying the praise. You held yourself still, letting him have his way for a moment, thrusting quickly into your mouth over and over again. It lasted for longer than you’d anticipated, before he pulled himself out completely, his breathing slightly uneven.

He leaned down to kiss you tenderly, wet and sloppy from your spit. Pulling back to give you a smirk, “Can’t get carried away,” he murmured. “But your mouth is somethin’ else.”

“Glad I can please, then.” You said sweetly.

His smirk widened, and stood up straight once again. “I ain’t done yet though. Get on the cot.” He commanded. You did so without question, sitting on the edge. He grabbed the waistline of your pants, sliding them off along with your underwear, leaving you bare for him. “On your back.”

You lay down, peering at him expectantly. He stood in between your legs, hooking his arms around your thighs. Stepping closer, he prodded your entrance with his cock. Sliding it through your folds a few times, covering himself with your moisture and sending a shiver up your spine.

With one thrust, he sheathed himself smoothly and quickly, giving you no time to adjust to his size. You gave a whimper of pain. “A-ah, fuck!”

“Take it, sweetheart,” Arthur growled in encouragement. He released one of your legs to dip to your clit, rubbing it in slow circles. “You’ll like the pain.” He began to thrust.

You bit your lip, tensing from the pain-pleasure that gripped hold of your body. The more he moved within you, the better it began to feel. You breathed slowly, letting your muscles relax as sweet ecstasy began to overtake you.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he drawled, increasing his ministrations upon your sensitive nub while his thrusts grew faster and harder. “Beautiful, takin’ my cock like that.”

You moaned loudly in response, your fingers slipping along your cot, failing to find purchase for anything to hold onto. He fucked you hard and fast, the glorious friction allowing the heat to build up quick in your core.

The sounds of his hips slapping against yours, and your wanton whining filled the tent. He was relentless with you; his fingers dancing against your bundle of nerves without a break. You get your second peak building quickly, your voice raising an octave in warning.

“Go ‘head.” He granted, his own voice breathless, somehow rubbing you even faster than before.

The coil sprung deep within you, emitting a moan that soon turned into a squeal, realizing Arthur hadn’t removed his hand. You squirmed in his iron grip, trying to get away from his touch. He held you even tighter at that.

“Cum again,” he ordered. “I love the way you look when you do.”

You cried from the overstimulation, failing to escape his fingers. He continued regardless of your efforts. “Arthur, p-please!” You begged, absolutely writhing now. Though at this point, you weren’t sure if you were begging for him to stop or continue.

He pounded harder within you, managing to hit that spot that made your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head. The buildup happened fast, wrenching out another one explosively cascading within you, a mewl escaping your mouth.

He grinned down at you, drowning your sounds of pleasure with a deep kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, but he pulled away. You whined in protest, wanting the closeness.

He chuckled, pulling out to flip you onto your hands and knees. Finding your entrance again, he didn’t hesitate to pound you from behind with much more intensity than before.

Your back arched, gasping at the new angle. It felt great, your already tired muscles trembling beneath him. You called out his name rather loudly, only to have him shove his bandana in your mouth. He leaned over, his thick torso pressing down on you.

“Ain’t nobody need to know what a filthy whore you are, ‘cept me,” He growled in your ear, his tone like fire in your veins. “Ain’t that right, princess?”

You made a muffled moan, unable to do anything else as he mercilessly fucked you, pounding himself in such a feral way. “I’m close,” he huffed to you. “I’m gonna…fill you up.”

You didn’t even have a moment to comprehend his words. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

With one last powerful thrust, he pressed his hips to yours, eliciting a low groan as he released his spend deep within you. He rolled himself against you shallowly, milking himself of every drop before he pulled out, slowly, feeling you shudder as he did so.

Without the support of him, you collapsed onto your cot, removing the bandana from your mouth. You felt yourself shaking, sweat covering nearly every surface of your body. As tired and used as you felt, a sense of euphoria began to trickle through your veins. You rolled onto your back, silently watching as Arthur cleaned himself off before tucking himself back into his jeans. Despite the flushed look on his face, one couldn’t tell what he’d just done.

He took a deep breath and met your gaze. A smile of satisfaction crossed his face, reaching out to run his hand up your midline to caress your cheek. “Beautiful, princess. You did so well for me.”

Heat crept into your face, shyly averting his gaze. How could this man be so romantic after fucking you like that?

“Ah ah, look at me, darlin’,” he softly chided, removing his hand to place both on your hips again, gentle this time, prompting you to stand. You did so silently, letting him wrap his arms around you. As you leaned willingly into his embrace, your body trembling from head to toe, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and whispered, “You’re mine now.”

[hetawrite]

Hello how are you to day? Good, good. If you can could you do some hetalia headcanons for the main 8 (not including America or including him if you want to) as well as Prussia, Romano, Spain, and Canada that have a American S/O that uses a lot of Meme slang (like Yeet or Salty or Shook or Mood you get the picture) and the countries are just like 'WTF are they saying?!' and because of it they have to try and explain it, Key word TRY. Sorry if this is to long, thanks for read this have a good day.

My day is good, thanks. I think I quite enjoy writing headcanons like this. And no problem for a long ask. Just means you have something more specific in mind!

1p!England

"I am shooketh"

Pardon? You were drinking some hot chocolate, reading on your phone. He'd ask if you were alright. His mind would assume you’re scared, or got shivers from a ghost walking through you.

“Did you just have an Encounter?”

This man is high-strung so don’t laugh otherwise he’ll be offended and get rude. What an absolute brat. 

It’s meme slang, you tell him. “Love, I deal with enough slang on a regular basis. We don’t need any more.”

This guy is vaguely aware as he is exposed to America quite often and he himself is a London aware of changing tides, but he’s then he deems it ‘Improper’ and implores you not to use it too often.

1p!France

“He is being salty.”

He doesn’t know how to take this. That man on the TV is being irritating, but he can’t comprehend what you mean. 

This man is helpless with technology. If you show him the word meme, he will say “mee-mees”. He is uncultured in the ways of the internet.

You explain, and he just nods, but he doesn’t understand. He comprehend, but doesn’t understand. Barely ever.

This man basically embodies ‘old dogs can’t learn new tricks’.

1p!Canada

“You’re such a simp.”

“Only for you.” Awww, Canada, baby. 

Of course he knows. This boy is young in comparison to every other personification and he goes on the internet. 

He isn’t one for speaking in slang normally, only when someones being extra cringe or dissing someone. Boy is cultured but sassy.

He also has a folder of memes. Mostly saved from America, but now he knows you’ll understand them and won’t cringe at him, you will now get them when you’re apart. He wants to make you smile and if memes are the way to get deeper into your heart then so be it. America is literally supplying him with the hottest memes out there for free.

1p!Russia

“Cash me outside, how ‘bout that?”

He recognises it. It doesn’t click in his brain, but he remembers America shouting it at some point. Just like you’re doing because he inconvenienced you. Please don’t fight him.

You can show it to him, but he isn’t all that interested. Internet culture doesn’t interest him. He doesn’t follow trends and only got Facebook because America insisted on making him an account. The dude only has a laptop for work and his phone has basically no app. His highest used is Tetris.

He’ll recognise things you say, but will mostly just give you a judging stare. Or maybe chuckle if you make a fool of yourself.

1p!China

“Yeet!”

Calm down, you’re being way too energetic about throwing that into the bin. 

He deals with all of his siblings at home, and then America at Big Work Meetings. He does not want to have it from you.

This man needs chillness in his life, consistency. He hates hecticness. So you throwing shit and shouting will get on his nerves before he tells you to pack it in. 

Yeah, he’s too grouchy for this stuff.

1p!Italy

“Is this a bird?”

“That’s a butterfly...” He doesn’t get it. He has watched a few animes, that’s what happens when you’re friends with Japan. And America. And Prussia. And also Romano because it’s his guilty pleasure so he may catch on to what you’re saying.

He’ll also understand other memes you say, but he doesn’t find them themselves funny. He just actually enjoys watching your expressions to it and your enthusiasm. 

He works off other peoples happiness, so seeing that grin of yours whilst you imitate gives him the butterflies in his stomach. 

He will try though to pepper some in if you are a user of memes in your language. He wants to pick them up to make you smile. He’s such a cutie-pie UwU.

1p!Germany

“Ah yes, stonks.”

No, these are the finances, honey. They’re not-oh... now he’s slightly disappointed as he looks at you from over his glasses.

Prussia is energetic about his memes, and Germany will often be ‘gifted’ with them. Sometimes, he’ll read through them but often he’ll scroll through them all. His brother spams. Heavily.

You may get lucky sometimes if it’s an animal meme to make him smile, or exhale sharply through his nose, but Germany doesn’t often find them funny. 

Like Italy, he’ll smile if your positively thrilled with it.

1p!Japan

“That is a juicy boy.”

Oh, thank you, s/o. He’s happy you’re enjoying the meal he made you.

He knows memes. This man watches anime. He has every social media account on all platforms. He will smile, he will partake in some fine dining that is the dank meme section of the internet. 

They’re mostly the anime version of a meme. He doesn’t really enjoy edgy humour, and while a Danny DeVito meme about magnum dong is mildly humorous, it just isn’t his sip of tea.

He’ll say memes out-loud in the same room as you sometimes, in that deadpan voice of his, which always makes it ten times funnier. Even his commentary of anime that you’re watching a rerun of will have memes in it. And if you say you’re watching an anime and got to this specific episode, you bet he’ll pull up his neatly made folders on his phone for that anime and send it. He appreciates that you like that type of humour.

1p!Prussia

“That is a sweaty boi.”

Dat boi? Dat boi! Prussia is a people pleaser at heart and a goofball so of course he knows memes. This man has a large following on the internet, he makes a living off people enjoying his content!

As soon as you spill the proverbial bag of you liking memes, he will spam. His line of thinking is often, “Hahaha, this is hilarious. S/o may also find this funny. I will send it to them!” And if there’s one meme on that website with him scrolling hours at a time, you will get sent at least like 30 in an hour.

He will try his darnedest to make you laugh, so you will get a specific meme made about anyone you know too just to see you in tears over it.

“I have an army.” He sends you a picture of England. “We have a Germany.” Yeah, it’s that MCU meme of Loki and RDJ... Sometimes he’s not that funny, but A+ for effort!

1p!Romano

“One does not simply--”

Yeah, he knows what you;re going to say and rolls his eyes. If it’s anything too cringe, he will laugh at you and take the piss. But he will not hesitate to make an edgy or self deprecating meme.

Romano is ‘do as I say, not as I do’ type of person, and also never call him out for his hypocrisy. He will get snooty with you.

But he does enjoy them even though it doesn’t seem like it. He enjoys seeing you happy about them so as long as you’re shameless and don’t take his elbow digging to heart it’s all fine. 

Don’t call him out for laughing at whatever meme you say or send, as he will get defensive and annoyed with you. Imagine edgy teenager ‘I’m not like everyone else!’.

1p!Spain

“Pepe the frog.”

He partakes in a bit of memeing. He enjoys it. He’s got you.

But boy does he like the incomprehensible ones. Where the pictures highly saturated and has a couple of nonsense words put across it not lined up. He is cracking up at it.

Normal ones are fine too, but it’s either Facebook mum ones or weird incomprehensible. No in between. He doesn’t get that deep on the internet to understand the ones with context.

[kindofcashton]

𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕  •  chapter 17  (Calum Hood AU)

DESPITE THE STARTLING realization that I might in fact be in love with Calum, I didn’t act any differently.  I didn’t hover or cling to him like annoying, love-struck girls would.  In fact, I was almost more distant, using it as a safety precaution in case he caught on to my intensifying feelings.  One night I casually suggested we sleep apart, even though the thought pained me.  Calum’s reluctance was a comfort, but even still he ended up agreeing.  That was one of the longest nights of my life; I laid for hours just staring at the ceiling, wondering if Calum felt as empty as I did without a warm body laying next to mine.

Things at the house were also just better all around.  With Ashton and Hannah on good terms again, the group was tentatively back together.  I interrogated Hannah for answers on what had happened, if their relationship was slowly reforming.  She dodged most of my tougher questions, insisting that they’d put aside any bad blood for the sake of the group.  I didn’t entirely buy this; something definitely happened, but for whatever reason Hannah wasn’t ready to tell me.  I didn’t demand any more details, seeing as I was withholding plenty myself.  Hannah thought Calum and I were just fooling around, no strings attached.  While that was what was supposed to be going on, my feelings lately had confused things.  By no means was I going to tell a soul what I felt, but even keeping it inside still made the whole thing feel different.  I leaned deeper into Calum’s kisses, I held his gaze longer when he rocked inside of me.  My body was communicating all on its own, and I just hoped Calum didn’t catch on to these subtle changes.

After a particularly hot and passionate night together, I was frantic to go off to work.  Calum’s heady pants still echoed in my ears, the burn of his fingers still lingering on my skin.  As I sat on the edge of the bed lacing up my sneakers, I felt warm lips press into my neck, and goosebumps raised immediately where he kissed me.

“Back for more?” I joked, not looking over my shoulder.  I’d woken up before him to get ready, leaving him peacefully asleep, or so I thought.  He swiveled his body to sit next to mine on the bed, shoulder bumping my own.  Calum was clad only in black athletic shorts, his toned torso on teasing display.

His nose nestled into my neck, making my lashes flutter.  “I can be quick,” he whispered in a sultry tone, and I pushed him away with a snort.

“I think I’ll need more time to recover after what you did last night,” I reminded him, feeling the residual ache between my legs.  Calum left me the sore in the best way possible, and all day I would have a reminder of his body’s wicked tricks.

Calum smirked at me, flopping over onto the mattress with his hand over his abdomen.  He looked beautifully relaxed, jawline framed by the morning light, his eyes drowsy but content.  I’d never seen him so happy, and for a second I wondered if it was more than just the sex that made him feel this way.

“How long’s your shift?” he asked, eyes closing with a yawn.  I grabbed my bag off the floor and shouldered it with a sigh.

“Long,” I said simply, not looking forward to the strenuous hours ahead.  With community college tuition looming, I asked Mack for as many shifts as I could get, just in case I felt tight on money.  I’d rather have more than enough than barely enough, even if it meant working excruciating hours.  

Calum frowned.  “You’re working so much lately.”  There was an edge to his voice, like he disapproved.

I ran a hand through my hair in aggravation.  “What else am I supposed to do?  My life is getting back on track, and that means more bills to pay.”  I tried to stifle the resentment bubbling up inside me; Calum lounged around day in and day out, doing what he wanted when he wanted to.  Week after week he tore open the checks his mother sent, tossing them carelessly onto his desk.  Usually this didn’t come between us, but with my increased schedule I couldn’t help but feel bitter about his lazy routine.

Clearly a similar thought crossed his mind, and his frown deepened.  He didn’t say anything else, instead taking on a guarded expression.  He was so hard to read sometimes, and when I wanted him to open up he just shut down.  I had no idea how he felt about me going back to school; part of me thought he didn’t care, but another part wondered if he felt insecure that I was growing up and making a life for myself while he wasted time doing nothing important.  I wished he would tell me if he felt this way, but of course he never did.  We didn’t talk about anything that wasn’t surface level, which was fine when we were in our peaceful little bubble.

But I had to live in reality, which meant popping that bubble more frequently.  I couldn’t let Calum distract me from my more important goals, and he just had to learn to deal with my busy lifestyle.

As I was tying my hair into a messy ponytail, Calum suddenly asked, “When do you get off?”

“Seven,” I answered.  “It’s a ten-hour shift with only one lunch break.  I might drop dead from exhaustion.”  A second passed, and I chewed my lip as an idea popped into my head.  “Want to get dinner after I’m finished?”

For some reason this caused Calum to lean up, his posture stiff and his expression incredulous.  “What?”

My brows knit together, puzzled at his odd reaction.  “Dinner.  I’ll be starved after my shift, so I thought you could join me.”

His frown turned into a glare.  “Like a date?”  He sounded defensive and mocking, which didn’t help my already exacerbated mood.

“What, we can’t eat a meal together?  Is that against some hook-up rule or something?”  I couldn’t control the annoyance in my voice; why did Calum always have to complicate things?

“I don’t know, dinner just seems like a weird thing to do.”  I had no idea what he meant by ‘weird’, and his unreadable expression didn’t help me figure it out.

“Whatever, Calum,” I refuted.  “Forget I asked.”  I was already late for work and had to catch the bus, so I didn’t bother staying to bicker any longer.  Admittedly, it hurt that he was so against the idea of us spending time together outside of the bedroom.  I’d suggested dinner as more of a friendship thing than anything else; after all, there was a time when the two of us actually liked one another.

I didn’t realize Calum had followed me until I reached the front door, but his arm blocked me from opening it.  He’d thrown on a shirt and shoes, and his lips were pressed together in a thin line.

Fuming, I crossed my arms and demanded he move.  “I’m late for work, Calum.”

“No, you’re late for the bus,” he countered.  “So let me drive you, and that’ll solve the problem.”  For such a considerate offer, he didn’t sound too nice about it.  His scowl seemed permanently etched on as I followed him to his car.

We drove in silence for a few minutes, not even the sound of the radio to alleviate the tension.  Calum’s knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, and I leaned as far away from him as possible.

Sensing my irritation, he asked, “Are you gonna be pissed at me for the whole day?”  He sounded accusing, which only made me more infuriated.

“No, Calum.  I’m not gonna waste that much time on you.”  Realizing how harsh the words sounded, I backtracked.  “I just thought we could eat some stupid grilled cheese sandwiches together and maybe do something different for a change.  God forbid I want to spend time with you.”

More silence, so I thought the conversation was over.  But then I glanced over and saw an odd look on his face, almost resembling guilt.

“So it’s not a date?” he reiterated, and I let out an enormous sigh.

“I literally just want to eat food, and not do it alone,” I insisted, so beyond done with this conversation.  But Calum seemed satisfied with my answer, and eased up his tight grip on the wheel.

“Okay, so I’ll pick you up.”  He met my eyes as he pulled into a parking spot near the cafe, stopping the car and filling the air with quiet.  I tried desperately to see the thoughts swirling behind his level brown gaze, but it was a hopeless task.  At least he wasn’t hostile anymore.  I sighed again, hoping my annoyance was well communicated so he knew not to pull this shit again.

“I’ll see you later,” I told him before closing the car door.  I stalked towards the coffee shop, grabbing the strap of my bag for support as I refused to look back.

Roger knew something was up the minute I started working.  I moved angrily as I made the coffees, sighing every so often and grimacing rather than smiling at the customers.  It would be a long day.

“Who pissed in your morning coffee?” he joked after a particularly bad exchange with a customer.  The guy had demanded I remake his cappuccino because it “didn’t taste right”, and when my polite apology wasn’t ass-kissing enough for him he accused me of being a miserable, lazy youth.  I seriously contemplated throwing the hot coffee in his face, but reminded myself I was working these stupid shifts for a reason.  My future.

“Just having a bad day, I guess,” I replied vaguely, but this didn’t satisfy Roger.

“Trouble in paradise, eh?  What’s he done now?”

I couldn’t help but smile at how Roger always jumped to my defense, always blaming Calum when things went wrong.  “I told him I was working late and suggested we get dinner, then he flipped out because he thought I meant it as a date.”

This intrigued Roger, who raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise.  “Interesting.  He could be using reverse psychology.  I’ll bet he actually does want to go on a date, but wants you to think that he doesn’t.”  Roger tapped the side of his head.  “Smart cookie.”

I laughed, beginning to wipe down the counters after the first morning rush.  “I’m a psychology major and I still can’t figure out what goes in his mind,” I joked.  “I just thought it would be nice to do something together.  Other than what we always do.”  At my insinuation, Roger giggled like a schoolboy.

“Ah, yes, the sex has reached the boring stage, has it?”

I shook my head firmly.  “No, not at all.  It’s still great, just...”  I exhaled sharply, frustrated with the whole situation.  “I really thought it was just gonna be dinner, but then he had to make it weird.  And he was being weird about me working so much, too.  I don’t know what his problem is lately.”

Roger nodded along to my rant, considering the dilemma.  “Well, that’s obvious at least.  He feels left behind.”

I waved the rag excitedly.  “That’s what I thought!  I mean, he doesn’t have any idea what he’s doing, and I have every idea.  I thought maybe he was jealous or insecure, but he’d definitely rather die than tell me this.”

“He’s a guy like that.  We don’t like feeling inferior, and when we do we totally deal with it the wrong way,” Roger informed me.  “He doesn’t know how to process these complex emotions so he’s shutting them out.”

I smiled.  “You don’t need to tell me twice.  Classic defense mechanisms, disconnection from his feelings...”  I trailed off, suddenly feeling guilty.  I shouldn’t psychoanalyze Calum, not when I knew how much he hated that side of me.  But I couldn’t help it when he was being so difficult.

Resting my elbows on the counter, my smile faded into a worried frown.  “What do I do, Roger?  I thought we were in a good place, but lately it just doesn’t feel right anymore.”

“Don’t give up yet,” Roger suggested.  “Give it a little more time.  But if Calum doesn’t start making some changes, cut him loose.  You’ve got better things to deal with than his emotional immaturity.”  Despite the harsh criticism, I knew Roger was right.  Whatever I felt towards Calum didn’t matter if he was jeopardizing my future, and I couldn’t keep dealing with his detached feelings when it made me so exhausted.

For once I actually dreaded the end of my shift.  I had no idea what mood Calum would be in when he picked me up--or if he would even pick me up at all.  I wouldn’t put it past him to abandon me, especially if he wanted to avoid an uncomfortable conversation.  

I ended up cleaning the whole dining area twice, and even resorted to re-mopping the floor which was practically sparkling already.  Roger played along with this for as long as he could, but even his patience was wearing thin.

“We got off half an hour ago, Scarlett,” he criticized, snatching the mop out of my hand.  “I’m going blind from all the sparkly-clean surfaces inside this cafe.”

I sighed, placing my hands on my hips.  “I know, you’re right.  I just...when I’m nervous I like to fix things and be productive, so cleaning--”

“Yeah, yeah, your fatal flaw is that you care too much and you clean all the time.  I swear, you act like you’re the worst person alive when those are barely flaws.”  Roger’s tone was light, but I couldn’t help but look deeper into his joke.  Did Calum think that I didn’t believe I had any flaws?  Caring too much is barely even a character flaw, but that’s what he threw in my face constantly.  Maybe he thought I put myself on a pedestal above him, and that’s why he felt so insecure.

I decided I would try to be less condescending and more open when it came to Calum’s feelings.  I only hoped he would actually appreciate this effort, and maybe start making some positive changes of his own.

The sun was bleeding into the sky as it set below the horizon, casting a pale orange glow about the earth.  I glanced around outside the cafe, searching for that signature red mustang that always made my heart skip a beat.

Sure enough, it was parked right across the street, and Calum was leaning casually against it.  He looked good; typical black jeans and sneakers with a big red flannel over a band shirt.  My face broke into a surprise smile; I remembered wearing that shirt just a few nights ago.

When I approached, Calum’s brows raised disbelievingly.  “What’s with the face?” he questioned, referring to my dumb grin. 

I shrugged.  “I don’t know, I guess I wasn’t exactly sure if you’d show up.”  It was an honest answer, and I didn’t think lying or placating Calum would help either of us.

His lips twisted into a sardonic smirk.  “Of course I showed up; I would never miss our date.”  He said this with obvious bitter sarcasm, but the crinkles around his eyes softened the delivery.  I rolled my eyes, amused by his stubborn refusal to get over the whole “date” thing.

“I’m starved, where should we go?”  I’d eat just about anything right now, but a grilled cheese sounded particularly mouth-watering.

“Luke says there’s a new diner open by the music shop.  Says it’s more upscale than the truck-stop places we always go to.”

I nodded, pleased with the idea of trying out a new place with Calum.  This felt like something regular friends did, and although Calum and I were definitely out of the ordinary, I enjoyed it nonetheless.

The diner was fairly packed when we got there, but we managed to snag one of the last open booths.  There was no question about what we’d order; as soon as the waitress showed up, we asked for two grilled cheeses.

I sipped my coke and gazed out the window at the bustling city streets.  My muscles relaxed into the cushioned booth as the day’s stress lifted from my shoulders.  Work was taxing, as always, but worth it in the end.  

Neither of us minded the quiet, since we were so used to each other’s presence.  A few times I felt Calum’s knee brush mine under the table, and my lips twitched at this subtle motion.

“Why’d you get out so late?  Mack ask you to stay longer?”  Calum twirled his unopened plastic straw between his fingers, and for a second the movement mesmerized me as I thought about his skilled fingers.

“No, I just wanted to clean the place up.  I didn’t have to stay.”

Calum scoffed lightly, and I worried I said something wrong.  “Always so selfless,” he muttered, but I couldn’t detect if he was joking or not.  “Do you ever do anything wrong?”

The question was rhetorical, but I took the opportunity to open up a little and show Calum that I could be vulnerable.  “Yeah, all the time.  What do you think me lying to everyone was about?”

He frowned, unsatisfied by the answer.  “You lied out of loyalty to a friend, that’s hardly wrong.”

“Okay, then I leech off all of you by living rent-free.  I’m cheap, I’m a cheap-skate.”  I was grasping at straws, anything to show that I didn’t think I was some perfect angel.  And I didn’t.  I knew I was flawed and I hated that Calum thought I wasn’t; that would just set him up to be disappointed when he realized I wasn’t as amazing as he thought.

Calum just rolled his eyes at this attempt.  “You whine about feeling bad every day, that’s hardly being a leech.”

Sitting back with a defeated sigh, I demanded, “Well, what do you want me to say?  I’m showing you everything I do wrong and you’re denying all of it.”

“Because you don’t do anything wrong.  You’re so kind it makes my teeth hurt, and there’s never a doubt in anyone’s mind that you’re genuine.  You’re perfect, Scarlett.”  He said this matter-of-fact, like I was a little kid he was explaining something very simple to.

I ignored the way his final sentence made me feel.  You’re perfect, Scarlett.  Did he really see me that way?  Was I perfect to him?  Or perfect for him?  I hoped it was the latter, and bit my lip to hide my inner turmoil.  Calum danced along a very thin line all the time: the line between what we were now, and what I secretly wanted us to be.  What kind of friend-with-benefits says you’re perfect?  I tried to convince myself he didn’t mean it, that it was supposed to be mocking, but the sincerity in his eyes was telling me otherwise.

Thankfully, the waitress interrupted us with food and gave us both an excuse to change the subject.  As soon as she left, Calum and I collectively cringed; the sandwiches were cut down the middle.

Calum exhaled gravely, shaking his head.  “Gonna have to tell Luke this place isn’t so great after all.  I mean, they really fucked up here.”

I laughed, pretending to push my plate away.  “Get that waitress back here, we’ll set her straight.”  As we both joked over the grilled cheese, any intensity or confusion from before was banished.  The meal was quickly over, and I won the argument for which of us would pay for the food.  While we got up to leave, Calum grumbled about having to take me out again so that he could pay and make us even.

When he said this, I had to hide my blushing smile.

The night wasn’t too cold, and we decided to walk for a little bit before driving home.  Our hands swayed close to one another’s, and I willed Calum to twine his fingers with my own.  But the backs of our palms grazed a few times, and he made no move to change this.

As we passed by a familiar building, I pointed it out to Calum.  “That’s one of the places Hannah and I looked at.  The apartment is actually pretty nice, but there’s god-awful green bathroom tile that makes me nauseous just looking at it.”

Calum smiled vaguely, his expression distant.  “You can’t live there, the location is awful.”

I knitted my brows together.  “It’s right by the coffee shop.”

He shook his head.  “Yeah, but way too far from the house.  We’re never gonna see you guys if you live there.”

I chuckled, looking down at the pavement as we walked.  “I think you just don’t want me to move out,” I concluded.

Calum’s smile tightened.  “Yeah, who else would constantly wear the shirts that are supposed to be mine?”

My shoulder nudged him jokingly as I teased, “Admit it, you love seeing me in your tee shirts.”

He paused in walking, and my grin faded.  Had I been too serious?  Was using the word love a mistake?  Panic welled up in my chest, and I feared I ruined an otherwise perfect evening.

And then all of a sudden his phone began to ring, and I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding.  Saved by the bell, I thought, wondering what would have happened if we weren’t interrupted.

Calum fished through his pocket for his phone, pulling it out and glancing at the screen.  His expression immediately darkened, and my stomach sank upon seeing this.

“Who is it?”  It was a stupid question, because I knew he wouldn’t answer.  Calum squared his shoulders and started walking, leaving me to hurriedly catch up to him.

“No one,” he snapped when I reached him, anticipating my badgering questions.  “Drop it, okay?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but then remembered the promise I’d made to myself earlier.  Don’t be condescending.  So I kept my mouth shut, and instead focused on keeping up with Calum’s long strides.

He glanced at me a few times, surprised I wasn’t trying to get answers out of him.  Once I met his eyes, and saw the deep thought hiding behind his brown orbs.  I wished he’d let me in on what he was thinking, but I settled with not knowing.  

A minute passed, and then his phone chimed, indicating the caller had left a voicemail.  We both tensed, but I didn’t expect him to listen to it.

So I was surprised when he whipped his phone out and brought it to his ear, stopping again to listen to the message.  I stood a few feet from him, keeping enough distance that I couldn’t eavesdrop on the call, even though I was dying to know who it was.

I watched Calum’s face as he listened, taking in the subtle narrowing of his eyes, the lowering of his brow in shock.  His lips parted, and all I wanted to do was kiss away the storm brewing behind his eyes.

The voicemail ended, and Calum shoved his phone back in his pocket.  But this time when he tried to continue walking, I stopped him, stepping in front of his chest and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Calum,” I started gently, lifting my eyes to his.  He avoided my quizzical stare, breathing hard.  “What is it?  What’s wrong?  You can tell me.”

He pushed a hand roughly through his hair, glaring everywhere but at me.  “It’s nothing, Scarlett.  Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not,” I defended.  “But maybe you should since whoever it is makes you feel this angry.”

Finally he turned his angry eyes on me, and I inhaled sharply at the fury I saw there.  “Fine, it was my mother who called.  Satisfied?”  He pushed me aside in order to storm off, and I was too stunned to move for a moment.

But then I jogged to catch up, breathless and confused.  “Your mother?  What did she want?  I thought she only reaches out through the checks.”

Calum looked ready to boil over.  “She does, but apparently she felt the need to call me.”  He appeared to be fighting over his next words, before finally stating, “She wants me to come home for a visit.”

I took a minute to let this information sink in.  Instinctively I was thrilled; his mother reaching out was a promising sign that their fractured relationship could be healed.  But then I considered the ramifications of her request.  She wouldn’t just ask out of the blue if something else wasn’t going on.  And she had to know that Calum wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy when it came to family stuff, so why not go about it delicately, not so sudden and shocking?

I tried in vain to read Calum’s expression, finding nothing but frustration and anger.  It pained me to see him so tense, but I didn’t just want to coddle him, I wanted to help him.

“Why not go?” I proposed softly, trying not to set him off.  “It might be good to see her.”

Calum snickered at this, and I winced.  “You’re shitting me, right?”  He sounded harsh and mocking, and I struggled to hold my ground.

“I know you’re confused and hurting,” I said firmly.  “But you don’t have to take it out on me.  I just want to help you.”

“Of course you do, because I’m your favorite little charity case,” he retaliated.  “Give it a rest, Scarlett.  I don’t need you smothering me.”

Fuming, I folded my arms and didn’t shy away from his steely gaze.  “No, Calum.  You can be an asshole and you can bitch about whatever you want, but don’t you dare take it out on me.  I’m just suggesting you patch up your relationship with your mother, or at least give it a try--”

“What makes you think you know what’s best for me?” he snarled.  “You don’t know me, you have no right to tell me what to do.  We’re not even friends, so why do you care?”

I huffed in disbelief, pressing a hand to my forehead.  “Why do I care?  Maybe because I’m not an emotionless husk who has no idea how to express his feelings!  We’re sleeping together for God’s sake--”

“And that makes us what, a couple?  You think you’re my girlfriend?  We’re not even friends, Scarlett.”  

Each word cut me like a knife, voicing the exact anxieties that had been eating away at me for weeks.  “I know we’re not, which is why I wanted to go to dinner and spend some freaking time together!”  I was embarrassed at how high my voice had gotten, how pathetic I sounded when I was trying to defend myself.

Calum chuckled darkly.  “I don’t want to be friends with you.  You always do this, you always force your way into other people’s problems because you think it involves you when it doesn’t.”  His hard eyes met mine.  “You’re nothing more than a good lay, and I can get that anywhere.”

I tried to remember how to breathe as I watched his figure get smaller and smaller, walking farther and farther away from me.  Each step he took was a stab to my heart, until he was out of view and I was left bleeding alone in the street.

[sxfterhearts]

11. [3:21 pm]

The leaves rustled above your head in the warm spring breeze, a pleasing melody that drifted into your ears as you sat under the tree, waiting. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the leaves, creating a mosaic of shadows on the ground around you. You closed your eyes, basking in nature’s gifts. In a distance, the school bell sang in a high-pitched voice, signalling the end of the school day for the rest of the students.

As it was already Friday, your entire year was allowed the option of either staying in school for study period or to go home and revise for the national exams. It came as no surprise that most students preferred to go home and engage in other activities not related to studying, such as window shopping or catching up with friends over a hearty meal.

You couldn’t blame them, though. This year was the most stressful academic year yet, and it was totally understandable to take a break once in a while. However, you couldn’t afford this luxury as you had a Chemistry test next Monday, and you stayed back to attend tutoring sessions with your teacher.

All your classes had ended. On a normal Friday, you would already be on the bus back home with your best friend who lived across the road from you, a cup of bubble tea in each of your hands. But today wasn’t a normal Friday.

Today, someone promised to meet you after school – a boy. Now, this came as quite of a surprise to you because, for one, you went to an all-girls school. The only males you came into regular contact with was your male teachers or your father.

Another thing was that you didn’t know who this someone was. He had passed a note to you via your friend, under the instructions of her boyfriend, who attended the all-boys school close to yours. All you knew about this mystery person was that you were to wait for him at the park outside your school, and that he had careful, immaculate handwriting.

Also, he was late. The note said he would be there at three. It was nearly twenty past, and you were starting to think about leaving.

You drummed your fingers against your thighs absentmindedly, humming along to the song playing through your earbud in your right ear. Out of habit, you took the left earbud out to listen. Along with the cheerful notes of your song, there was also a bird chirping somewhere in the tree. A car honking, probably to urge students to cross the road quickly. The school bus groaned as it opened its doors to eager students, looking forward to the start of the weekend. A dog barking on the sidewalk. Rushed footsteps, muted by the grass.

The footsteps increased in volume by the second, until finally, it stopped. You were acutely aware of tired panting as the owner of said footsteps caught their breath. The patterns created by the leave’s shadows ceased to exist. The person must have been standing behind you, you concluded.

“Noona,” A voice called. You turned your head, looking up at the towering figure that was Kim Yugyeom. “Sorry I’m late, it’s just,” A pause for a deep breath. “Practice ran overtime, the hyungs didn’t let me leave until we absolutely nailed the choreography.”

“Kim Yugyeom? You wrote me that note?” Confused was an understatement.

The boy standing before you was someone you’ve only seen three times in your life. The first time, when you went bowling with your friends and they invited their boyfriends, who extended the invitation to their group of friends. The second time was during your interschool basketball competition, where some of the boys from their school came to cheer your team on. The third time, not too long ago, was accidental. You stayed a bit too late at the community library to study for a midterm and missed the last bus home. Just as you were pacing around the bus stop, about to call your parents, the boy spotted you across the street. He recognised you as a friend of his hyung’s girlfriend, and had kindly offered you a ride home. You politely declined at first, but then you remembered that your mum was babysitting your cousin’s daughter and your dad was working overtime that night. You accepted gratefully, promising to pay him back in the future with a drink. Yugyeom assured you there was no need for that, and spent the rest of the car ride making light conversation about school. Honestly, you didn’t think you would see him again so soon.

“Yeah…” He loosened his tie slightly and undid the top bottom. Wiping the sweat off his brow, he explained, “I didn’t want to text you or anything because I haven’t asked for your number. I mean, I could’ve got it from Jackson hyung, but I didn’t want to invade your privacy like that. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all.” You shook your head quickly, touched by his thoughtfulness. “But, I have to ask, why did you want to see me?”

“About that…” Yugyeom looked down at his feet, sporting a small grin. “I’ll tell you later. Do you want to go for bubble tea? There’s a shop near my school where I can get a discount.”

It was as if he read your mind. Getting bubble tea on the way home was your tradition on Fridays, and your best friend was sad that you had ditched her for a boy. “Sure, I go there every Friday anyways.”

“Really? How come I’ve never seen you there?” He helped you up on your feet as you slung your backpack over your shoulders.

“It’s probably because I go after school ends, I stay for study period with my friend. When do you go?” You walked past the school gates side by side, your hands on your backpack straps, his in his pockets.

“Ah,” His face lit up in realisation. “These past two weeks we’ve been staying til seven or eight to rehearse, that’s probably why. And before that I’d go right after the lunch bell rings and head to the basketball courts.”

You nodded. The walk to the bubble tea shop was short, consisting of questions along the lines of “how are you?” and “what subjects do you do?”. To be honest, you didn’t know much about this boy. Yugyeom was a friend of your boyfriend who studied in the all-boys school affiliated to yours, a year below you. He lived and breathed dance, and was always drinking iced-chocolate.

Today, you also learned that he was a part of a dance team before high school, had an older brother, and couldn’t stand the taste of coffee. You, on the other hand, were an only child, consumed two cups of coffee daily, and was also in the same dance team a few years back. It has been awhile and you’ve long since given up on your dreams of professional dancing, but you vaguely remembered thinking Yugyeom looked oddly familiar when you first spotted him across the bowling alley. There was no way you would’ve recognised him though, as the two of you were a year apart and placed into different groups.

The sweet fragrance of brown-sugar coated pearls filled your nostrils as you stepped into the store. You greeted the girl behind the counter, your classmate who recognised you from your weekly trips.

Turning to the boy beside you, you asked, “What are you getting? It’s my treat.”

Searching for his wallet in his pockets, he furrowed his eyebrows. He urgently patted his blazer pockets, trouser pockets and back pockets. A sigh left Yugyeom’s lips. “I’m gonna kill Bambam next week…” He muttered. “It’s alright, noona. My friend has my wallet. You go ahead.”

“You sure?” You quirked your eyebrows, finding his flustered expression cute.

“Yeah, I feel bad. I made you wait and now I can’t even buy you a drink. I’ll make it up to you next time, okay?”

“Don’t worry about it, Yugyeom. Go take a seat first, I’ll join you later.”

You gave your full attention to the cashier, giving her your regular order, a large Pearl Milk Tea with less ice and less sugar. She gave you a teasing smile as she keyed it in. You weren’t particularly close, but you were in the same study group for Chemistry and chatted briefly about the upcoming test while she prepared your drink.

Once she was done, you sipped happily on the sweet concoction while making your way towards Yugyeom, who had taken off his blazer and was sitting with his back facing you. You were curious about the purpose of his meeting.

“Noona, you’re done.” He put his phone away and looked towards you as you took a seat. “What did you get?”

“Just the normal milk tea. Are you thirsty? You can have some.” You offered, pushing the drink across the table.

“Thank you,” He smiled sheepishly. “I’ll only have a sip.” Before you could stop him, he picked up the drink and placed his lips on the straw. You watched, surprised, an unused straw in your hands.

“I was going to give you another straw…” You mumbled.

Yugyeom’s eyes widened. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I thought-” A panicked look flashed across his face. “It’s just, me and the hyungs, we share drinks all the time. I didn’t think you were saliva conscious. Should I get you another straw?”

“It’s okay,” While his actions alarmed you because, yes, you were saliva conscious, his words made you forgive him. “You didn’t know, it’s fine. I have another straw here.” You poked the straw through the drink when he handed it back to you hastily.

“I’m sorry, next time I’ll buy you another one next time, large, with any topping you like. You can choose the most expensive ones too.”

“Yugyeom, it’s fine.” You reassured him once more with a smile. “Now, what did you want to tell me?”

“Right,” He smiled mischievously. “Our school’s senior ball is coming up soon, and the student council asked us to do a performance. The hyungs and I, that is.”

“That’s great! I don’t mean to sound rude but, what does that have to do with me?” You wondered where this was going. It wasn’t uncommon for boys in their school to ask girls in yours as their ball date, but you didn’t know why he mentioned the performance specifically.

“See, we have a plan. We as in, all of us except for Jaebeom hyung. You know, the one with four piercings who sticks out his chin when he’s angry?”

You laughed at that, flashing back to bowling night, when Jaebeom’s team lost to yours by a point and all the boys made fun of him for his angry chin. “Yes, Lim Jaebeom, the b-boy?”

“Yes, him!” Yugyeom was clearly excited that you were engaging in his storytelling. “The thing is, he asked your class president to be his date for our ball, with our help, of course.”

“Last week, right? The entire school heard about it.” You laughed fondly at the memory. The class president was also your close friend, so she gave you and the girls a detailed account of what went down. “Who would’ve thought, your school’s bad boy and our school’s star student.”

“Jaebeom isn’t a bad boy,” He defended. “He just dresses like one. Deep down inside he’s a softie who loves cuddling while watching romcoms. Anyways, that’s besides the point. The rest of us are trying to help him to ask her out as his girlfriend.”

“What?” You exclaimed, surprised by the news. “He’s serious about her? He wants to be with her?” It was hard to determine whether he had serious feelings for your friend, because he seemed like a player. “Are you sure about this, Yugyeom? I know the two of them went to the same kindergarten and primary school, but does he really feel that way about her?”

“Yeah!”

“Positive? How do you know? You didn’t get his consent for this plan of yours…” You trailed off, uncertain. You didn’t want this to be some sort of big show to put on in front of the entire student body, for the sake of popularity. While you were happy for your class president that she was asked as his ball date, you didn’t want her to get heartbroken by such an act.

“Didn’t you notice the way he looks at her? There’s been at least three other girls who confessed to him this semester and he’s turned them all down. Every time she comes to watch our performances, Jaebeom always tells us about how he made eye contact with her from the stage. He is the only girl he talks about, ever.” He rebutted, clearly passionate about defending his friend.

“What about that girl?”

“What girl?”

“The one he posts on his Instagram stories, that girl… Nora?”

A part of Yugyeom was slightly jealous that you followed Jaebeom, and not him. “Nora is his cat, Y/N. There is no other girl. And since when did you follow his Instagram?”

“His cat?” It made sense, you suppose. “I don’t, I just saw a screenshot.”

Yugyeom leaned forward, interested by this new piece of information. “Wait, so you’re saying she screenshots his stories and sends them to you?”

“It’s common. That’s what girls do, Yugyeom.” You smiled, watching him put the puzzle pieces together in his head. Your reluctance to agree, in case your class president got hurt, and her talking about Jaebeom with her friends. It made sense.

“She likes him?” He asked, hopeful.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m not saying anything.” You sipped silently on your drink, chewing the pearls while Yugyeom’s mind raced.

“But you should tell me! It’ll make the plan so much easier.”

“What is the plan, anyways?”

Yugyeom launched into this elaborate explanation about how at the end of the performance, there was going to be a surprise couple’s dance, and after the song finishes with Jaebeom taking centre stage while twirling his date, the boys would hold up cardboard cut-outs of the words “Be my girlfriend”.

You nodded. It wasn’t a bad idea, albeit slightly cheesy, but you knew your friend was into that. “Does each of the boys have a date to the ball?”

“Well, not exactly… All the hyungs do, except for me.” He said in a soft voice.

“Your plan’s not going to work then, if you don’t have a date.” You stated matter-of-factly.

Yugyeom struggled to meet your eyes. “That’s sort of where you come in.” You froze. “Do you want to be my date and dance partner for the ball?”

You looked at him in disbelief. Sure, you were flattered that he asked you. You had watched their performance videos in the past and Yugyeom, although the youngest in their dance team, was undoubtedly the most experienced dancer. Being his dance partner meant you had to be at a certain level of dancing proficiency to be able to keep up with him. You were also somewhat amused that he asked you to be his date.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, and we don’t really know each other that well, but this is solely because of Jaebeom. I promise I won’t try to spike your fruit punch or make any unnecessary advances. We’ll just be partners for the night, and then we can carry on like nothing happened.” Yugyeom reached his hand out for a handshake, hopeful. “Besides, you’re one of the most competent dancers I know.”

“You’re just saying that to make me say yes,” Your eyes crinkled into crescents as you laughed. “Okay, I’ll do it, partner.” You clasped his hand in yours, shaking it firmly.

Yugyeom returned your eye-smile with his own, pumping his fist in celebration (for more reasons than one).

part 2

[toomuchofabastard]

Heaven’s Final Betrayal (3/6)

[ << CHAPTER 1 ] [ < CHAPTER 2 ]

Fandom: Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Aftermath of Rape/Non-Con, Denial, Drinking, Self-Blame

Word count: 3,228 (total 9,818)

Fic Summary: It was obvious that Heaven wouldn’t exactly be thrilled about Aziraphale’s role in preventing Armageddon. But neither the angel nor Crowley could have predicted how far they were willing to go to get  revenge, and now Aziraphale needs him by his side more than ever.

READ ON AO3

___

Crowley was stirred from the inky grasp of sleep by the rumble of the mattress and the sensation of shifting weight next to him. Reality slowly seeped its way back into his consciousness. Aziraphale. The angel was awake. His bed, his flat. Morning.

What happened yesterday.

Crowley grimaced as the memories resurfaced. Fuck. Images flickered unbidden in his mind, snippets and sounds of events like a highlights reel designed specifically to torment him. He rubbed his gluey eyes with the heel of his palm, and forced them open. The visions vanished.

Aziraphale was sat on the edge of the bed, still and silent. Crowley couldn’t see his face.

“Mornin’, angel,” he mumbled.

“Good morning,” Aziraphale replied quietly, but still facing away. Crowley cocked his head, trying to guess at what was going through the angel’s mind. After a long pause, Aziraphale turned to him.

“So-,” he began, with what Crowley could tell instantly was painfully-forced cheerfulness. He patted his thighs and gave a half-hearted wiggle.

“Breakfast at the Ritz?”

His voice was thin and brittle-sounding, higher than normal. The smile on his face didn’t reach to his eyes. The sight rekindled the ache deep in Crowley’s chest.

Crowley sighed. “Angel, it’s- …You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Aziraphale replied quickly. Then he exhaled shakily and his eyes scrunched closed.

Crowley sat up next to him and encircled his arms gently around the angel’s waist, hugging his belly and resting his cheek against his shoulder. When Aziraphale’s eyes opened again, they were filled with the same despair and devastation from the night before. His chin started to pucker and he blinked rapidly. He wouldn’t look at Crowley as he spoke, instead staring down at his hands rested loosely in his lap.  “I… I don’t want to think about it, Crowley. Please, just for today, can we please just pretend…” His voice wobbled and he trailed off with a gulp, turning away.

Crowley sighed unhappily and rubbed his hands over the angel’s stomach. Pretend what? Pretend like it had never happened? Like yesterday afternoon had just been a bad dream. Like they were still happy. Like he hadn’t been raped. Oh God, thought Crowley, as the weight of the word hit him fully. He’d been raped. They’d raped him.

He looked again at Aziraphale’s face. No matter how valiantly the angel was trying to bury it, he couldn’t just suppress all that hurt, all that trauma. He was visibly this close to breaking, barely holding himself together. Crowley was pretty sure one tiny thing would be enough to throw him over the edge. And stoically, stupidly trotting out that stiff upper lip and hiding behind denial would only make things worse, Crowley knew. Why did he do that to himself? He supposed Heaven had taught him to be that way. Some kind of self-defence mechanism against all their cruelty and control.

But he couldn’t ask Crowley to be party to it. Crowley couldn’t do that, it just hurt too much. Even if Aziraphale needed him to… ah, shit. He looked down, and ran his tongue despondently over the back of his teeth. Yeah. Aziraphale needed him. And wasn’t he always there when Aziraphale needed him. He knew this was never going to be sustainable in the long term. But, especially with how fragile Aziraphale seemed right now… maybe just for one day…

“Alright,” Crowley eventually conceded. He nuzzled sadly into the angel’s shoulder.

“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale whispered.

“So-,” Aziraphale took a deep breath and tried again, the artificial mask of cheerfulness returning. “The Ritz, for breakfast? We haven’t been there for a while. And their smoked salmon is simply delectable, and they do that fancy juice that you like, or at least you said that you did last time. Or-or we could do the Wolseley, if you prefer?” He was rambling, still smiling too wide and too emptily.

“Whatever you want, angel,” Crowley replied quietly. Just because he’d agreed, didn’t mean he had to encourage him. He was already hating every second of this.

Aziraphale flashed the fake smile again, and swallowed. “The Ritz it is.”

◥|⧗|◤

They took the Bentley. Crowley drove with less reckless abandon than usual, not wanting to rattle his angel in his current state. Aziraphale spent most of the drive looking vacantly out of the window as the busy London streets zipped by. Crowley shot him furtive glances, wanting to keep watch over him but hoping to avoid the usual chiding “eyes on the road, please dear”. Aziraphale either didn’t see or was choosing to ignore him. His hands in his lap were clasped tight, Crowley noticed. The little signs were still there, betraying what the angel must really be feeling inside.

A table for two for the breakfast sitting was miraculously available, and they were seated immediately. Crowley dismissed the waiter with a flick of his hand when he tried to pull out the chair for him, whereas Aziraphale smiled graciously at the man and accepted his help. He couldn’t hide the wince as he sat though, and even as he tried to smother it, Crowley could see the despair flicker again, ever so briefly, behind his eyes. Then it was gone, and the smile was back, though even less convincing than before. Aziraphale sat up ramrod straight and busied himself with his napkin. Crowley smirked vaguely back at him, heart heavy. He’d put on a new pair of sunglasses, and was very thankful for the camouflage they provided. He didn’t want Aziraphale (or any of the humans, for that matter) reading his expression at the moment.

They ordered quickly, and ate quietly. Aziraphale maintained the frozen smile throughout the meal, and tried a number of times to engage Crowley in pleasant small talk, but Crowley didn’t feel any more like talking than he did like eating, and the resulting silence hung dead and flat in the air around them. Aziraphale, likewise, wasn’t eating with his usual relish, instead picking at his food and batting it around the plate with a far-away look in his eyes. Nonetheless, the angel forced down every morsel and afterwards made a great show of wiping his lips with the napkin and complimenting the waitstaff. Crowley watched him carefully all the while, ready for the moment when the mask would finally crack, already preparing himself to pick up shattered pieces of angel in the aftermath.

But it didn’t come, and once they’d paid for the meal*, they headed to St. James’ Park at Aziraphale’s suggestion. The ducks were rowdy as usual, tearing the pieces of bread they threw to shreds, like vultures at a carcass. Crowley begrudgingly left the angel alone at the pond-side while he fetched them ice-creams from the kiosk, as had become their habit. Aziraphale accepted his with another flash of that god-awful broken smile, and linked his soft hand with Crowley’s purposefully. Crowley gave it a squeeze.

*Crowley, by force of habit, left a handful of pennies on the table for the waiter, but discreetly doubled the service charge on the bill. 

They strolled around the edge of the water as they ate. Occasionally, Crowley felt a subtle tremor run through Aziraphale’s hand in his, but when he turned to check on him, the angel always looked away, suddenly remarking on the activity of the waterfowl or pointing out a worthy target for one of Crowley’s demonic wiles.

The deflection continued as they finished the ice-creams and headed back towards the bookshop, stopping at Piccadilly Market on the way. It was busy with people today, milling around between the red-and-white striped awnings, underneath which proprietors were hawking old books, antiques, and other sorts of tat that the angel loved. Aziraphale dragged Crowley from stall to stall, cheerily inspecting their wares. He seemed unable (or, Crowley guessed, unwilling) to pause for even a moment, presumably lest the façade he’d built up crumble without a constant distraction. But Crowley caught the mask slipping in a few moments when the angel thought his face was hidden. A shimmer of uncertainty in his eyes, a tiredness in the way he held himself. As the afternoon wore on, Crowley could swear Aziraphale began to limp when he walked, just imperceptibly.

Crowley was worried about him. It had been gnawing away at his stomach all day. But he couldn’t help but feel annoyed too. Aziraphale must realise how much it hurt whenever he turned that bloody fake cheerfulness act of his on him. Sure, hiding his feelings from Heaven or even from the humans was understandable, but they were supposed to be on the same side now. They were supposed to share these things. Did he think Crowley would judge him? That he wouldn’t see through it in an instant? They’d known each other too long for the latter, and Crowley prayed that Aziraphale didn’t believe the former. It just hurt, the way Aziraphale was shutting him out.

The sky was turning peach-coloured with the first omens of sunset when they eventually got back to the bookshop. Crowley held his breath as he opened the door. Aziraphale hung back behind him. Inside, everything was still, the air heavy with dust, and the books, papers and furniture exactly as where they’d left them the last time they’d been home. Before. Crowley sighed deeply. Nothing had changed. Even though it seemed everything else in their world had. A weight that he hadn’t realised was pressing down on him seemed to lift slightly from his shoulders.

He turned and motioned Aziraphale inside. The angel looked briefly hesitant, but then he swallowed, raised his chin, and entered. Crowley’s hand went automatically to brush his back as he passed. Finally, they were back where they belonged. He shut the door on the world behind them with a sense of conclusiveness. The hum of the streets melted away, and then it was just them, left in silence.

◥|⧗|◤

They were six bottles of wine down, and Aziraphale was clumsily opening a seventh, when the elephant in the room finally trumpeted its unwelcome presence. Crowley had only drunk one, maybe one-and-a-half, of the bottles. The edges of the room were just beginning to spin a little at the corner of his vision. Aziraphale, on the other hand, was so far beyond plastered that he was heading towards a decorative stucco with crown moulding.

“An-angel, I think you’vhad enough,” drawled Crowley, and then frowned at himself, surprised at how drunk he already sounded.

Aziraphale made a face like a petulant toddler. “Jus’ one more,” he muttered. He finished wrestling with the cork and tipped the bottle unsteadily, managing to get at least half of the liquid into the glass instead of onto the carpet. “Can’t… can’t do any harm.”

Crowley’s face creased in disagreement, but he said nothing.

Aziraphale grasped the glass and then necked the contents back in one gulp like a parched man in the desert. Crowley watched, slightly dumbfounded. Under the veil of inebriation, the worry bit again at his stomach.

“Hey, you r’member that thing at that wedding in Cana?” he asked abruptly. “Wine into water - no, wait-” He made a spinning motion with his hand. “-other way ‘round. You know what I mean.”

Aziraphale looked morosely up at him, cradling the glass close. “Bloody awful evening.”

“You’re just sssaying that ‘cos you weren’t allowed any,” said Crowley. The angel pouted.

“Anyway…” continued Crowley, feeling increasingly talkative as the alcohol permeated its way into his system. “Point is, you’re not s’pposed to drink it like it’s still water.” He jutted out his chin. “So s-stop drinking like a… a…” What was the phrase? Some kind of animal. Something aquatic?

“…a dolphin,” he finished, with a confidence he didn’t feel.

Aziraphale spluttered with laughter, making Crowley blink in surprise. “ ‘s fish, dear,” the angel slurred, and then collapsed into another giggle. “You and your dolphins!” He suddenly fell about laughing, bending double on the sofa, and inadvertently sloshing wine everywhere.

Crowley smirked uneasily. His unease built as the angel’s laughter grew gradually louder and louder, until it was almost hysterical. It hadn’t been that funny, he thought to himself. The noise sounded wrong to his ears, discordant and unsettling, as though the bottom had fallen out of reality. It actually made him feel a bit sick.

Aziraphale raised his glass-free hand to cover his face. Beneath it, Crowley heard the hysterical laughter slowly transmute into hysterical sobbing.

Aaand there it is, thought Crowley with pained resignation. The angel had finally reached his breaking point. Immediately, he miracled the alcohol out of his body and back into one of the bottles. “Angel?” He stepped closer and knelt down in front of Aziraphale, trying to peer up through the angel’s fingers at his face. Aziraphale’s hunched shoulders jerked fitfully up and down, muffled sobs and hiccups escaping from underneath his hand. Crowley gently removed the wine glass from his other hand, and then took hold of his wrist and rubbed soothingly at his pulse-point.

“Talk to me, angel,” Crowley said softly. “Please.”

He waited while Aziraphale continued to gasp for breath, eventually managed to stop sobbing, and swallowed heavily. Slowly, the angel peeped out at Crowley like a frightened child from underneath the hood of his hand. Half of his face remained hidden, but what Crowley could make out was contorted with anguish.

“How do you make it stop, Crowley?” he asked wretchedly, sniffling. “It just-… I just want it to stop hurting. I don’t know what to do.” He stared into Crowley’s eyes, looking desperately lost.

“Help me,” he pleaded.

And there was that terrible, stabbing ache in Crowley’s chest again. “Oh…c’mere,” Crowley replied with a sympathetic sigh. He clambered onto the sofa beside Aziraphale and drew him close. Aziraphale lent into his touch, burying his face into Crowley’s shoulder as another distressed whine escaped him.

“I can’t help you if you keep shutting me out,” Crowley explained gently, rocking him from side to side. Aziraphale nodded mutely against him. “C’mon,” he rubbed the angel’s back. “Sober up and let’s talk. It’ll help. I promise.”

Aziraphale nodded again and, gradually, he pulled away from Crowley and straightened up. A quick squint of exertion crossed his face, and the empty bottles on the table were suddenly filled again (well, all but one, Crowley noted, but that was forgivable given the circumstances). The angel wiped messily at his eyes with the back of his hand and took a deep, shuddering breath, and then turned to look uncertainly at Crowley.

“Just tell me what you’re feeling,” Crowley whispered. “Don’t keep bottling it all up.”

Resignation settled on Aziraphale’s tear-stained face and he sighed. He looked away at the floor, hugging at his own arms.

“I feel...” he began, his voice strained like it was a struggle to get the words out. “…humiliated.” He rocked back and forth on the sofa, digging his fingernails into the flesh of his upper arms. “…violated.” He shuddered. “A-And I know I shouldn’t but…” He glanced sideways at Crowley and then back down at the floor, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “…ashamed,” he finished, voice almost a whisper. He covered his face again as another pained whimper slipped from his throat.

Crowley rubbed at Aziraphale’s knee. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” he said. “What they did to you, it was barbaric, a-and senseless, and cruel” - the litany of bastards bastards bastards returned to his head, but he tried not to let the rage carry him away - “and it was not your fault.” He punctuated each word with a gentle pat of the angel’s leg. “Not one bit of it.”

Aziraphale nodded quickly. “I know, I know. It’s not that.” He sniffled again.

Then what? Crowley raised an expectant eyebrow, and waited as Aziraphale gathered himself together again and shuffled on the sofa until he was facing towards him.

“You know, I really thought-” the angel began, and actually chuckled bitterly through the tears. “I really thought that we were the good guys.” He shook his head. “How naïve of me. All those years of loyalty to Heaven, and this is what I get for it. It seems I’ve been well and truly ‘played for a sucker’.”

He looked up at Crowley. “You could always see it, of course.” He sighed ruefully. “I just can’t believe I was ever so foolish as to have-…to have trusted them. I’m just a soft old idiot.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley sighed with a hint of exasperation, squeezing the angel’s hand. “That’s not your fault either. You’re a good person.” He cracked a slight smile. “You are soft, and I love that about you. You see the best in people” - he lifted Aziraphale’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss into the tops of his knuckles - “like you did in me. Shame on them for taking advantage of your trust.”

Aziraphale looked unconvinced.

“Can you say it with me? ‘None of this was my fault’?” Crowley pressed.

The angel gulped and stared into Crowley’s eyes, a look on his face like he truly wanted to believe him. “…None of this was my fault,” he repeated quietly.

“And you believe that, yeah?”

Aziraphale nodded silently.

“Then…the shame will go away,” Crowley said. “You just gotta give it time.” It would always hurt, of course, but Crowley knew from his own experience that the pain did fade, eventually. He wasn’t about to remind Aziraphale right now that some of this would doubtlessly stay with him forever.

Aziraphale sighed again, deeply and wearily. He glanced over at the once-again-full bottles of wine on the table, but a hint of a frown from Crowley and he stopped reaching for one. “I just want to move on. Forget this ever happened,” he mumbled, waving a hand dismissively.

“…you can’t do that, angel,” Crowley responded, as patiently as he could manage. “It won’t work. We’ll just keep going round the same miserable circle.”

He shuffled closer to the angel again and pulled him into a hug. Aziraphale let him, and curled up close with his head resting heavily against Crowley’s chest. Crowley stroked a hand through his soft curls as he spoke.

“Look, I understand,” said Crowley. “You turn the pain inwards on yourself, because you don’t know how else to survive it. Trust me, I get it.” Aziraphale looked up at him in surprise. “But you have to stop trying to escape all this by suppressing it, angel,” Crowley continued. “If you don’t let yourself feel it, you’ll never be able to move past it.”

The angel looked down and sighed once more. “You’re quite right, of course,” he said quietly. Then his face twisted and another half-sniffle, half-sob left him.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said, “for hurting you too. For shutting you out.” He pressed closer into Crowley’s embrace. “I’m a mess.”

“For Satan’s sake, angel, don’t worry about me,” Crowley scoffed softly. A pang of love and fondness joined the ache in his heart as he looked down at the angel. “In fact, don’t you worry about anything right now. I’m here, I’ll look after you.”

He brushed Aziraphale’s hair gently aside, and planted a tender kiss on his temple.

“We’ll get through this. Together.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, and he smiled - weakly, but, this time, genuinely.

[rythasbrenelle]

Prompt #19 - Where the Heart Is

(Note: I don’t have any great group screenshots, and I certainly don’t have any with everyone mentioned, unfortunately. Most of this is adapted from scenes written alongside some fine people, and the characters appear in the order of @savothesewercat​, @bellsandspells​, @mugishalffull​, @wineandcookies​, @erahsae-ffxiv​, @straycatte​, and @fheylahaken​.) Belmion, ages 7-18; the Duskwight, ages 18-23; Rythas, ages 23-24 “Home, little bat, is where the heart is,” Erelle said. Belmion lifted his head to find her staring down at him. Lit by the crackling fire nearby, her eyes twinkled every bit as brightly as the ten silver studs lining her long ears. She wrapped her arms around Belmion, holding the boy tight in her lap. “It’s with the gang, it’s with your parents, it’s with me. No matter where we go, you’ll have a home with all of us.”

Home was never a single place. It was caves or tunnels, narrow or sprawling, cold or comfortable. It was thickets of trees and bedrolls beneath brambles. It was an abandoned cottage in the woods, dilapidated and one good gust of wind away from collapse. They drifted from hideout to hideout, playing a lifelong game of cat and mouse. But they did it together. If Belmion’s aim was true and his ears were sharp, then he had the Butchers. Murder for love. He was happy to make the trade. “They’re family,” Belmion told himself, years after Erelle taught him about home. He secured his mask in place to stifle what he could of the bitter stench of death as he picked through the campsite, retrieving his arrows and stripping corpses of their possessions. “I do this for them because they’re family.” He was a Duskwight. A Grey. Cave dweller, thief, brigand, murderer. All any of them had to their name was a ruined city nobody on the surface gave enough of a shit about to rebuild or even preserve. The Gridanians would share, but he’d never be seen as an equal. The Keepers would shoot him if he dared walk their lands. Home was something to carve out from the world and take by force. “Bel. Have you ever been outside the Shroud?” Arlianne asked. Her crooked fingers made their way through his long hair, weaving a snowy lock of it into a braid. She sighed and lightly slapped his back as he pulled his hair out of her hand with a shake of his head. “You can use your words, you know. But alright. We should see the rest of the world sometime, yeah? There’s a lot more out there than this forest and the underground.” Belmion hummed. “What about Auntie and everyone else?” “They could come with us, if they wanted. But I don’t think they would.” Belmion tilted his head back, this time spilling more hair across Arlianne’s fingers and earning him a glare as the beginnings of the new braid were made to mingle with hair she hadn’t wanted. “I don’t think so either. But I kind of want to go anyway.” Home was with loved ones. But they weren’t always gathered in one place. That was okay though. If Belmion could stay with Arlianne, anything was okay. The Duskwight lost track of the days. He sat with his back to the wall of the cave. His bloody fingers toyed with the bones of his most recent meal. They were too small to twirl properly, nothing like his lost stilettos. He settled for turning them over and over in his hand. Anything to occupy his mind. He’d spent a third of his life taking everything from the people of the Shroud. They’d finally responded in kind. Home was a makeshift tomb, a secret cave full of bones and dripping water, twelve steps wide. The Duskwight found Limsa Lominsa a poor fit for him. It was loud with the sound of bartering, gulls squawking, sailors coming and going at the docks. He passed his days learning arcanima out of a stolen grimoire. He passed his nights with his back to a wall and a dull knife in his bandaged hand. Home was somewhere far behind him, lost to time and hubris. Home was nowhere, but that was okay. He’d be gone soon. A home would be wasted on him. He kept his head down and his eyes lowered and marched forward. He had no reason to look. Home crept up on him and spoke with an accent that made her sound a little bit stupid. “Hey, sharp.” The words freed him from his reverie not because they meant anything, but because they were said right in front of him. He blinked, bringing the book in his lap back into focus, and lifted his eyes to find a woman staring at him. Her body was all straight lines and sharp angles, not a curve in sight. She blinked large eyes at him, the picture of innocence. “You look like you just walked through a desert.” “Ah. Hi.” His voice matched hers: unremarkable, without power or presence. “I, ah, suppose I did just walk through a desert, yeah. Haven’t been here long.” The waif gestured toward the bench he was sitting on with a wave of her claws. “Mind if I sit?” “Oh.” His eyes cut across the street, taking note of the empty benches across from them. He looked back to the Miqo’te. She wasn’t moving. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Go ahead.” The woman hopped up and perched herself on the stone bench before tucking her spindly legs beneath herself. She’d elected to sit sideways on the bench and face him, fixing her attention on him in a way that felt foreign. He was used to people’s eyes skating over him, hardly registering his existence before moving on. He preferred that. He usually disliked the attention. Not this time. And like that, home had him and wouldn’t let go. “Rythas is good family,” Mahteki murmured, resting his head on Rythas’ shoulder. The smell of buttercream vaguely registered in Rythas’ brain, something he catalogued and tucked away in his head even as his body froze at the sudden contact. His scars were on fire, his hands itched. He felt warmth tinge his ears and cheeks, and it didn’t abate even as Mahteki added, “Zanin still wins though. Sorry.” “Rythas is the best Rythas,” Zanin interjected. He offered a small smile toward the Duskwight. Home became quiet moments between the jobs where he threw himself into the blender and wove magic that threatened to crack his bones and ignite his skin. It was time spent nibbling on cookies and drinking tea and clinging to sanity. Rythas’ stomach twisted into knots. He bit the inside of his cheek and tried to pry off whatever was squeezing down on his heart and making his chest tighten. He kept his eyes down, staring at the bandages wrapped around his hands, following the way they slithered over themselves before disappearing around the contours of his palms. Someone nudged him. He lifted his head to find Lionnellais’ sympathetic smile and a silver flask extended toward him. Rythas barely managed to say his thanks before grabbing the container away from the Elezen. Sometimes, home was a cocoon of noise and body heat, inescapable within the confines of whatever concert venue he’d drifted toward. But it was something meant to be fun. He’d been fortunate enough to find people that made sure of that. Rythas tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. The chime of a bell was normal. The sound of it being placed onto a pedestal, clicking into place, was not. And he’d grown too used to the rustling of Savo’s satchel and the clunk of a bell being dropped into it to mistake a different sound for it. He climbed the stairs and found Erah’sae waiting by the door. The Keeper blinked his mismatched eyes toward Rythas. “Mornin’, Rythas. I’m not catchin’ you at a bad time or anything, given it’s this early?” Erah’sae paused, then tilted his head. “Or late, ‘pending on your viewpoint?” “Nah. I was planning on being up for a while still.” Erah’sae nodded before taking his hat off and hanging it from the nearby stand. “So, you’ll be up for a bit … mind if I bend your ear?” Home was different than what he’d known. It was giving and taking and not minding whether he was being asked to help or asking for help himself. Building a home took a little bit of effort, but it was worth the trouble. Rythas watched the tuna flopping on the wooden deck, his ears full of the sound of it slapping and struggling. With a word, he lulled it to sleep, then lifted his eyes to look toward the mooncat nearby. Lolette looked remarkably like Savo, though the differences were clear to him at a glance. Still small and delicate, but not starved. Pale hair, but in loose curls. Red lenses, but remarkably bright green eyes behind them. A long tail, but fuzzy rather than rat-like. And perhaps most notable, a huskier voice, barely accented. But her smile was similarly warm and set him at ease. “Oh, I don’t think there’s ever really an end, just a road. When you’re dead then I suppose your journey to redemption is over, but I think it’s something that once you’re already doing, you’re kind of on the right path and, in a way, already there unless you slip up again. We’re stained. But we’re not evil nor irredeemable. Just tainted.” Rythas wasn’t sure he believed her. But he liked that she said it. Home was a place of comfort. Somewhere to limp back to and lick his wounds when they grew too painful to ignore. Rythas motioned for Fheyla to join him, patting the spot beside him. Instead, she plopped herself down onto his leg, balanced on his knee. Ordinarily, he was the warm one. It had come with his time in the cave-turned-tomb and existed as a fire that lingered beneath his skin. But the mooncat felt feverish, her body heat bleeding through the cloth separating them. “As long as you’re trying to be better, it’s okay to me,” she said, nodding her head. Her pigtails, resembling nothing so much as blue and white tassels speckled with dander, bounced. “Thanks. Appreciate your graciousness,” he said dryly. Despite his comment, he rubbed her head. She grinned and swiped the corner of her mouth across his palm, leaving his bandages a little wet. He ignored it and continued, “I’m trying. Really. Doesn’t always feel like anyone sees it. But I am.” “But seriously, why is you having so much trouble learning? I mean, I know you’re only male, but … c’mon?” She paused a moment, then fixed her eyes on him, blue eyes oddly focused behind the red lenses perched on her nose. “Rythas?” “Yeah?” “Has it ever occurred to you to stop resisting and just join my camp? Hitch your wagon to my train? ‘Cause … you may have noticed, I’m always right. Every time you ignore me, doesn’t it end up badly?” “It doesn’t, actually.” “I’m just trying to help you be happy,” Fheyla insisted, leaning close enough that Rythas could catch the scent of old laundry clinging to her. “You seem so sad and I’ve noticed that you never take my advice. Seems like there might be a correlation there.” Home was sometimes full of verbal jabs and groans and frustration. But when the lights grew dim and they were left on their own, it was a place to unmask their vulnerabilities and find comfort. Savo slunk to the couch and curled up as best she could with the space available, resting her head in Rythas’ lap and blinking her glowing eyes in a wordless, tired response as he asked if he’d woken her up when he came through the door. He draped an arm over her, a canvas of scars on blue skin covering bruises and pale skin stretched taut over the bones beneath. Her clawed fingers kneaded his legs like he was a pillow, and once she was satisfied, she rolled over to look up at him. A smile curled her mouth, and she leaned over to kiss his stomach through his shirt. One of his hands fell over hers, and he knit their fingers together. Home wasn’t what he’d known before, when he was never without a chaperone or a crew or a partner. It was sometimes distant and elusive as people came and went, his lives intersecting with theirs however briefly fortune permitted it. It didn’t go with him everywhere. Sometimes it disappeared from behind a bar without warning, sometimes it crawled into a wine cask to sleep, sometimes it skipped off without a care in the world while a million words were left yet unsaid. But he loved it all the same. (Prompt #18: Panglossian) (Prompt #20: Holy Water)

[beepbeeprichiellc]

Please, please, please, PLEASE tell us what happens in the 74 and 86 promp fill that you did. How is Eddie going to react? Is he going to forgive Richie just like that or will there be angst???????

This took me forever! Sorry…. Part 1, Part 2

Eddie awoke with a painful crick in his neck. 

Not that he would ever complain about it, or the fact that his bed had lumps or that his room was always ten degrees colder than the rest of the house. There were a million things that scratched at his skin but he would never ever tell a living soul. Throwing his floral bedspread over his awkward form he reached over and shut off the blaring alarm, groaning into his pillow. At least it was Friday, the mask he wore around school could finally be peeled off and he could sulk in all the things that weighed him down. It was easy enough, fooling the people at school. They ate right out of the palm of his hand, fawning over the new and improved attitude that he had developed over the past six weeks. Even the losers seemed unaware of the torture he was in. 

If people knew that he had been kicked out of his home, thrown into the night like some kind of dog that his mother had grown out of they would mourn his so called loss. What they would never know was that he-Sonia’s perfect little Eddiebear-had been the one who initiated it, the one who screamed at the top of his lungs until they were black with hate and vulnerability. He had called his own mother a bitch and a whore like he was some delinquent with a vendetta. It was like he was a puppet who had finally pried the ventriloquists hand out of his own ass and made a break for it. In the end he was put out with the clothes on his back and twenty five dollars in his wallet. 

He had made it to the park where he sat until nearly dawn just soaking in what had happened. There was no home anymore, no roof over his head or meals for his stomach. There had been a thought-or rather a person that had popped into his head but his heart hung heavy at the realization that he could no longer go to him-that door had been slammed shut. More than anything he wanted to walk that familiar path, bang on that familiar window and puff his chest out with dignity. Richie would’ve been so proud of him, or at least the memory of Richie would. Eddie had never felt so alone, so lost. With nowhere to go and no one to call he waited for something-anything to do that would keep him alive long enough to see the sunrise. 

That something turned out to be a red haired girl who was cutting through the grass, on her way home. Without a word she had sat beside him and pulled him close which shattered the illusion. Somehow she had known, and in that cold morning he had wept for the person who he had been and also for the person he was going forward. Eddie Kasprbak had died on that bench and he was terrified of what was left. 

There was a knock at his door, “Wake up Eddie, we are going to be late.” 

“Okay!” He yelled back, forcing his body out of bed. Without really thinking about it he went through the motions and made it down the staircase in ten minutes flat. While running his fingers through his messy hair he followed the smell of cooking meat and was surprised to find a full spread on the kitchen table. “What is-”

“Happy Birthday!” The Hanscom family sang, including Beverly who either just got there or had snuck in sometime last night. While Eddie stood there dumbstruck, Mrs. Hanscom came over to him and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a sideways hug. It was warm and inviting, unlike his mothers which had always seemed greedy and cold. 

This woman-Eddie had decided-was some kind of angel. Arlene Hanscom had always wanted a big family but that had been stolen from her the day her husband had come home with a folded flag. Ben mentioned her a few times but Eddie himself had never really met her until Beverly had brought him there from the park. It took literally no convincing-not even a nudge from either Ben or Beverly and before Eddie knew it the spare room was cleared out just for him. Beverly was there nearly every night-seeking comfort after her father had fallen asleep. In that sense, Eddie was jealous. Ben was there-always there for her no matter what shape she was in and never asked for anything in return. It was hard to adjust to but Eddie made sure to do his best not to offend his hosts. 

“Don’t tell us you forgot your own birthday!” Mrs. Hanscom cooed, leading Eddie to his chair. “Eighteen! My, what a fun age.” 

“You really didn’t have to do all of this.” Eddie said, looking up to the woman. 

“Nonsense.” She replied, brushing off his sympathetic look. “A birthday should be celebrated! You are finally an adult Eddie!.” Eddie smiled, it was a thin one that came from somewhere in his chest but it was enough to keep Mrs. Hanscom happy. Turning to the food he felt no hunger, which was more normal than not. 

“So, you are finally the big one-eight. How does it feel?” Beverly asked, shoving a partially eaten sausage into her mouth. 

“I don’t know, the same I guess.” He shrugged. 

“Well we are all going to get together tonight to celebrate.” Beverly shot back, making sure that Ben’s mom was turned away before adding, “Mike’s scoring the beer.” 

“I’d really rather not.” Eddie said to his eggs. 

“Oh come on.” Ben chimed in, “It’s your birthday.” 

Eddie huffed, knowing full well that here was no win in this. The Losers celebrated every birthday the same way since 16, getting secretly shit faced at Mike’s farm and soaking in each others company but that was the thing-Eddie wasn’t really enjoying all the company lately. Things had been shaky between the group, all subtly joining sides after his and Richie’s falling out. Eddie tried not to notice, but the tension was so taught he could play it like a violin. Yet another thing that weighed down on his shoulders. 

After finishing breakfast they walked to school, Beverly talking on about their little get together. Eddie zoned out somewhere between what she was going to wear and what she was going to burn in the bonfire. Eddie nearly jumped out of his skin when a pair of hands grabbed his hips from behind-the noise that came from his mouth was less than manly. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a friend but rather Rick, someone who Eddie had been somewhat seeing over the past month. “Jesus don’t do that.” He scorned. 

“Sorry Eddie, I was just trying to surprise you!” Rick cooed, moving to the space between him and Beverly. His arm slipped around his shoulder making Eddie’s cheeks flush. “You know if you would just let me drive you, I wouldn’t have to sneak around.” 

“Sorry but I can’t let these two walk alone, they would never make it to class.” Eddie’s excuse made Beverly snort. It was a lie, and they all knew it. Only one person had ever driven him to school, it had been a tradition since the trashmouth had turned sixteen and Eddie couldn’t bear to let anyone else take the mantle. 

“It’s okay.” Rick assured, smiling over to the couple as they parted at the double doors of the school. “I get it, your friends mean alot to you.” 

God why did he have to be so perfect, it just wasn’t fair-Eddie didn’t deserve it. In reality, this thing was just something Eddie was using to busy himself with which was a shame because holy fuck-Rick was so sweet. In another world-another universe Eddie could see himself really falling for him but his heart was still swollen and bitter from the last time Eddie had tried to give a piece of it away. 

“Hey Eddie! Happy birthday!” Mike called from just down the hall, ensuring that every person after wished him as well. This made Eddie cringe at the attention. 

“Holy shit, it’s your birthday?” Rick asked, sounding disappointed. “Oh man, I’m so horrible! I didn’t know!” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Eddie muttered, letting Ricks arm fall so that he could get to his locker. “I forgot myself.” 

Rick laughed, the sound something he wished he could substitute for someone else’s. “You forgot your own birthday? Really?” Eddie shrugged, “Okay, how about I make it up to you tonight? I’ll take you out to a movie, your pick.” 

“Can’t.” Eddie sighed, “The gang is getting together to celebrate. It’s kind of a tradition.” It was like venom dripping from his tongue, the annoyance clear as day. 

“Ah I see.” Rick sounded disappointed, making Eddie’s heart clench. “You know Eddie I wanted to talk to you about something. I think I want to-” The bell rang out, silencing whatever Rick was going to say. Eddie shot him a look of sympathy, making Rick’s mouth snap shut. “Let’s talk later.” Rick said, bend down to place a peck onto Eddie’s cheek. This should make Eddie’s stomach flip but all it did was leave him with a sense of emptiness. 

Eddie watched him leave and begged himself to feel something-anything but couldn’t. Giving up he swam through the sea of students to get to this most dreaded period. Without looking around he sat in his seat, right up front. This was the only class he shared with Richie and in the nine weeks following his little slip up they had talked a total of one time and that was just when Eddie was forced to ask him for his notes. It was weird and cold and Eddie vowed to fail before doing it again. 

“Hey Eds.” 

Eddie choked on the air in his lungs at the sound, the voice sending shivers down his spine. There sitting at the desk beside was Richie Tozier himself, wearing his favorite ripped jeans and the hoodie Bill had gifted him last Christmas. Eddie blinked, unsure that he wasn’t imagining the whole thing. “U-Uh yea?” 

“I know we haven’t really talked since well-” His voice trailed off, his hand making a vague geustrue in the air. Clearing his throat he continued. “I just wanted to say happy birthday and to give you this.” Reaching into his bag Richie pulled out a small box gift wrapped in bright colors. He handed it to Eddie-who only starred. “Uh-I got it for you-” Still, Eddie watched, unmoving. “Okay well here ya go.” In slow motion he put the box in front of Eddie, as if afraid that he would scare him away. 

Richie disappeared back into the back of the class and the teacher began to lecture. Eddie could only watch the box, the rainbow Happy Birthday mocking him in every way. Despite his better judgment he pulled apart the wrapping and peeled open the box. 

It was a music box. 

Not just any music box but the one Eddie had fawned over six months ago in that thrift store the group had dragged them to three towns over. As he opened it the ballerina began to dance, the melody floating up towards the sky as if trying to escape the darkness of the world. It was just as beautiful as it had been all that time ago, the porcelain cold and frightening in his hands. 

Oh god, he was going to be sick. 

Grabbing his backpack he bolted from the room, the sound of his own name following him out into the all. There was no stop, not when he met the double doors or when the crisp wind touched his tear streaked face. Eddie had no idea where he was going but he knew that he had to get there before he completely broke down. 

So he kept running. 

What a fucking birthday.

[honeymoonjin]

A/N: It’s here!!! Like I said before, this fic will be a lot lighter and more humor-based than DOPE, so that you have some variety! 3k words.

LOST IN TRANSLATION ↳What do you do when you have no qualifications but want to see the world? You help teach English in a Korean primary school, apparently. ↳Principal!Jin, math teacher!Yoongi, PE teacher!Hoseok, English teacher!Namjoon, school nurse!Jimin, art teacher!Taehyung, and science teacher!Jungkook.

CHAPTER ONE ↳You arrive in Seoul and begin to meet the teachers you’ll be spending your whole year with.

You hover awkwardly in the arrivals foyer, consulting your phone again, reading the email you had been sent a week ago. According to the information given, there should’ve been someone there for you already, waiting to drive you to the school.

But no matter how often you glanced around, up on your tiptoes as you tried to scan the massive area of Incheon International Airport, you couldn’t see any signs with your name on them.

Oh shit, you thought, what if they’ve written my name in Hangeul? You sigh and begin another dutiful look-over, deeply focused on the countless signs with Korean characters on them, trying to recognise ones that would make up your first or last name.

You just about jump out of your skin when someone taps you on the shoulder out of nowhere.

“Are you Y/n, here for teaching?” He’s younger than you were expecting for a schoolteacher, although you remember the email stating he was in charge of physical education and the rec sports teams, so maybe it was better to have someone still pretty fit. And he definitely was fit. Although he was in a grass-stained polo shirt and basketball shorts, he had a contagious smile and kind eyes, and his dark, wavy hair was endearingly a little bit messy.

Clearly you were looking over him for a little too long, because he smiles sheepishly and pats down his shirt. “Sorry about the messy clothes. I came straight from practice.”

You frown, hoping your Korean will be at least coherent if not entirely correct. “But it is 8am.”

He gives you a wide beam and laughs a little as you get through the sentence one syllable at a time. “Yes, soccer practice is from 6am to 7:30 on a Monday morning.”

“Oh. The kids still play soccer when it is very early?”

He shrugs, beginning to lead you towards the carpark area. “Actually, we have 6am sport every day of the week. Soccer on Monday, basketball on Tuesday, swimming on Wednesday. You get the idea.”

“And you teach all sport teams?”

“Your Korean is fantastic, you know?” He chimes the final part in a cutely accented English, and you blush at the praise, shaking your head modestly. “I teach almost all of the sport teams. Technically the mathematics competition team is classified as a sports team, but Teacher Min does that. You’ll meet him later.”

You nod slowly as he talks, a little overwhelmed by how fast he’s speaking. You had studied the language for five years, but all of the other teacher’s assistants you had spoken to had said a thousand times how when you were finally confronted by a native speaker in that country, your mind went blank and you forgot every single word.

It was what you had been obsessively worrying about on the whole red-eye flight over, and you were lucky that some last minute studying had made you feel a little more confident in your abilities.

He comes to a stop beside a shabby Nissan, unlocking it and gesturing for you to get into the passenger side. It smells like sweat in there, and you can see a random assortment of various balls and other equipment stashed into the backseat and boot. “Sorry about the mess in the back,” he apologises, starting the car up and pulling away towards the exits.

“You don’t need to apologise, I’m very thankful you drive me from airport to school.” The matter is forgotten completely as the car breaches the exit and your eyes are filled with light. Several skyscrapers dot the horizon line in the near distance, and everything looks so advanced and modern. There’s a large amount of people milling around outside, and the traffic just around the airport is rather congested, but the man navigates it with ease. You sit in a comfortable silence for a good half an hour before directing your gaze back inside the car with a sudden thought. “Sorry, I don’t know your name now.”

“Oh, you forgot?”

“Ah, yes, I forgot.”

He glances over at you intermittingly, hands relaxed on the wheel as he winds through the streets of Seoul. “My name’s Hoseok. Well, Teacher Jung.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.” You purse your lips in the awkward silence that falls, trying to work out something grammatically correct to say. “Uh, the school is good? You like it?”

He hums his affirmation, and with a surprised blink you realize the car is already pulling up to a relatively small primary school, heading towards the staff parking. “You’ll love it here. The kids are great, and the staff are more like family.” He slides into a park in one clean swoop and stops the car. “Alright, out we go.”

You can’t see much of the school before you’re taken straight to the reception building, but it looks like there are only five or six classroom blocks out back, all lined up around a slightly bumpy and overgrown sports field. When you had applied to three different schools in South Korean, they were all smaller schools. You had decided you’d feel more comfortable with a rural primary school rather than a large one in the city. But you hadn’t connected the dots that a school away from the hustle and bustle of the city meant that funding wasn’t so high.

It probably worked out quite well for a school like this to get a teacher’s assistant. You had paid for your own flights, and they basically just provided you with a homestay for accommodation and a small weekly allowance for your work. Coming fresh out of a half-completed university degree, it was a nice break from student life for you, and a good opportunity for them to save a little money on staff.

One thing that immediately stuck out to you was the lack of receptionist in the reception office. Technically, it looked more like a waiting room with a few offices branching off. Hoseok bounced up to the door right across from the main entrance and rapped three times.

Principal Kim Seokjin, the plaque read, and the amount of time it took you to work that out by reading the characters, the door was falling inwards, and a warm voice called out, “Ah, Y/n, come in!”

You look up from the silver engraving and your mouth falls open. In the correspondence that had occurred between you and the principal, you had always imagined a grouchy but softhearted, slightly older gentleman. Okay, if you were honest with yourself, you just imagined Ji Seokjin from Running Man. If the shoe fits; but in this case it most certainly didn’t.

It felt like you had stumbled straight onto a cheesy k-drama set. He had honey blonde hair that swept over his much darker eyebrows, perfect bone structure and full, pouty lips that made you want to pass out just so he could perform mouth-to-mouth. “Uh…Yes, I’m Y/n. Nicetomeetyousir.”

He grins at your rushed introduction and invites you in to sit. His office is warmer than outside, and you automatically tune in to the principal’s brief conversation with Hoseok as you take off your coat and scarf.

“…those clothes. Didn’t you have time for a shower?”

“Why am I not hearing ‘Thank you, Hoseok, I’m so grateful, Hoseok’? I could’ve easily gotten Yoongi to go. She would’ve turned right back around and hopped on the next plane out of here.”

“Go back to class, Jung. Year 3 PE starts in eight minutes.”

“You’re most welcome for picking her up, sir. I appreciate the thanks.”

Principal Kim huffs and shuts the door gently behind him, making his way back to sit behind the large desk you were sitting across from. As your gaze follows him around the room, you notice a few frames nailed to the wall; a teaching certificate, a local management award, a photo of the school itself, and, larger than the rest, a professionally-shot picture of himself, with a white blouse and some round-framed glasses, lips slightly parted and staring dead-on into the camera.

You cough lightly as he turns to you with the exact same posture and expression. “How was your flight?”

“Good. I slept the flight.” Every time you say a sentence, you cringe internally when you know you’ve messed up, but he doesn’t really seem to react.

He breaks the gaze, reaches into a drawer and pulls out a stapled pile of pages, tossing it over to you to flick through. “There’s a map of the premises, though I imagine you’ll be able to find your way around soon enough, a copy of the official contract, and some general advice for living in Korea. Don’t worry too much about all that, since you’ll be living with a member of staff. He’ll take you to and from work each day and we’ve given him some extra funding for meals for you.”

You nod gratefully. “Thank you, sir. It is very helpful.”

A grin lights up his face as he leans back in his chair. “Now, that’s the boring stuff out of the way, are you ready for a tour?”

You blink, not understanding one of the words he used. “Tour?”

He gestures vaguely around himself. “I’ll show you the school, introduce you to our other teachers, that’s what tour means.”

“Oh, I see. Yes, let’s do it!”

One of the first things you learn about Kim Seokjin is that he walks pretty fast with those long legs of his, and you spent so much energy on half-jogging to keep up with him, that as he explained the history of the school, you couldn’t really focus on that too. You tried your best to make general sounds of surprise or agreement so that he thought you were listening, and hoped you weren’t missing anything too important.

It wasn’t until you finished following him around the school field that he comes to a halt outside the first classroom and you can finally zone in on what he’s saying. “…is the physical education classroom since it’s the closest to our equipment shed. Jung is teaching in there now, but you’ve already met him, so we won’t go in. You won’t really have to go over here much, but I thought I should mention that if you ever get here early, this is the only classroom that’s unlocked since it’s where the kids meet for early morning sport. There’s a bathroom in there too, so it’s a good place to stay warm until we officially open at 8am.”

You barely have to walk fifteen meters to be standing in front of the second building. Instead of staying outside on the concrete quad, he leads you up a short wooden ramp and into a small locker room. When he continues speaking, he’s dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “To the left, Class 2, that’s a basic room, we have most classes like Korean, English and Math in there.” He pops up to the small window on the door. “Ah, Min’s doing Year 5 math. Let’s go in.”

“Oh, we don’t have to…”

Your protests go unheard as he barges right in without knocking. “Can they do Pythagoras yet, Teacher Min?”

A low voice from inside the classroom calmly replies, “You can’t do Pythagoras yet, Seokjin.”

Principal Kim turns to you from half-in, half-out of the doorway, and tips his head over to get you to follow him inside.

The voice belongs to a man with dark hair and perfect skin. Like Principal Kim, he’s pretty young, and you’re beginning to regret not listening better to Kim’s speech, wondering if he had explained why all the teachers looked well under thirty so far. He’s lounging at the desk, one leg crossed leisurely over the other, eyebrows raised from behind his glossy bangs. His students, kids around 9 years old staring blankly at the three division questions written on the blackboard.

“You haven’t placed first in a regional beauty pageant, but you don’t see me complaining,” Kim bites back.

The teacher quirks his lips up a little in bemusement. “I wonder how long it’ll take you to realize that’s not a relevant achievement in the line of education.” His dark eyes flick over to you, and he raises his eyebrows further. “The new kid arrived?”

You bow to him. “Hello, my name is Y/n, nice to meet you.”

Principal Kim smiles benevolently and turns to the kids, who have long since given up on the math questions and are watching the interaction with wide eyes. “Children, Y/n will be helping you with your English. Take good care of her.” He leans over to you. “Say a little something about yourself.”

If there’s one thing worse than being put on the spot for an icebreaker, it’s being put on the spot for an icebreaker in a foreign language. Your mind whirs on double-time as you desperately try to find something interesting to say. “I have not been to Korea before, it is very kind here but more winter than my home country.”

An unreadable smile plays on Teacher Min’s lips. “What a relief that it’s English you’ll be teaching.”

You blush violently as Kim scolds the Teacher and quickly hustles you out of the classroom, shutting the door behind him with a little more vigor than usual. “Sorry about Min. He’s the only math teacher we could find. You’ll get used to him.”

“It’s fine,” you breath out with an awkward laugh, “I know my Korean is not good. I want to learn better here.”

He pats you on the shoulder, then points behind you. “That there is our art classroom, I’ll introduce you to Teacher Kim.” You frown. “Different Kim. Actually, there are three Kims at the school including me, so we call the other two Art Kim and English Kim. Anyway, let’s go in.”

You’ve always been a little biased towards the arts; you would’ve gone to university to study art history and painting were it not for your parents insistence that education was a much better field, and so it gave you a certain kind of wonder to see the people that had pursued their dreams in the field, and the kind of life they led where their job was their passion.

Your first impression of the classroom was how chaotic it was compared to the one across the hall. Instead of four lines of chairs and tables, students were bunched into small groups dotted around the room. The room itself was lined with benches; some had sinks where old streaks of paint led down the drain, some had boxes of charcoal sticks and pastels, others held cardboard sculptures and mock-ups. A fond smile played on your face at the scene you were met with. Principal Kim had chosen not to noisily announce his presence, and you could see the teacher looking like a giant on the extra small and short children’s chairs, talking quietly but passionately to a student attempting to draw an old green bottle that sat in the middle of the table.

His voice was surprisingly deep, and his hair was much longer than most men you had seen, flopping over in the front and reaching near his shirt collar in the back. Like every art teacher you had ever met, he had an endearingly quirky fashion sense, wearing a patchy pink woolen robe over a dress shirt and pants. The other students at the table bunched up as best they could, listening intensely and looking at him like he was explaining all the secrets of the universe. You remembered that feeling of awe well.

He glanced up when the principal called out his name, and let a boxy smile overtake his face. He quickly excused himself from the table and stood up to his full height, approaching you two as the kids called out in disappointment behind him.

You notice that when Principal Kim introduces the two of you, Art Kim never once takes his eyes off of you, staring at your face with some intent curiosity. You smile at him awkwardly and give a short bow. “Nice to meet you, Teacher Kim. Art is my favorite school subject.”

His lips drop open slightly. “Oh, really? Why do you like art?”

You weren’t prepared for the extremely open-ended and opinionated question, and it takes you a moment of stumbling over your words to get any coherent thought out. “Well, I see…no, I think art is, uh, beautiful, because it is…um, it is like a conversation from artist to person looking. I’m sorry, that doesn’t make sen-”

“It makes perfect sense,” he cuts you off quickly. His chestnut hair glows under the harsh lights in the room and his eyes stare deeply into yours. “You’re completely right. Art isn’t just a picture, it’s meant to be given and experienced. The artist is sending a message to the viewer, of course, but art is nothing if the viewer doesn’t see it and give something back, even if it’s just an emotion or an analysis.”

You don’t understand most of the words he just said. “Yes, exactly.”

He smiles at you again, shyly this time. “It is very nice to meet you, Y/n. I look forward to seeing you around.”

Principal Kim looks back and forth between the two of you, blinking like he’s just as lost in the conversation as you are. “Thank you for your time, Teacher Kim, we will be moving on with the tour now.”

Art Kim bows quickly and gives you a cute little wave, then goes back to his students, pulling up a chair at a different table and immediately entering into a conversation about whether the young boy should make the sky orange and the sun blue instead of doing it the normal way.

Once you’ve left the building and stand outside in front of classroom 4, Principal Kim turns to you and tuts. “Ah, this tour is so boring! Math and drawing pictures. But don’t worry, next is the science blo-”

He’s cut off by a loud bang coming from inside, which is paired with a flash of white and kids squealing in excitement and delight. A thin wisp of smoke trails out of one of the half-open windows.

Principal Kim lets out an exhausted sigh. “Dammit, Jeon Jungkook.”

TAGLIST  Send me a message or an ask if you wish to be added, and you’ll be notified every time I post a new chapter of LiT.

[canarhys]

If you write a valdangelo college AU I’ll perish

“nico, you’re staring at him again.”

“huh?” nico looked back to his best friend, turning his gaze away from the boy near the window to percy jackson, sitting sideways in his chair and sipping his energy drink, a monster can that he finished with about three gulps. “i’m not—”

“yeah, i’ve heard that before dude.” percy crushed the can tossed it like a basketball to the nearby trash, nearly missing by an inch. “score. and you had those big goo-goo eyes. just go talk to the guy.”

nico stared at percy as if he had grown a second head. “i am not.”

“okay, well, aren’t you two minoring philosophy this year? you see him, what, twice a week in the afternoon?”

“percy, just because i can see him at a different time of day doesn’t mean i can talk to him.” nico stared at his coffee, significantly cooler enough for him to take a sip. it still left a burn on his tongue, though not as strong as when he mistakenly took a sip before. “besides, he sits in the front. far from me.”

“meet him after class,” percy suggested. “or like talk to him. he’s not a demon or anything. you’re not going to die if you start a conversation.”

“yes, i will.” nico looked back at the boy at the window, busy typing something on his laptop. he was wearing a flannel as it was autumn and not yet too cold for light wear, a beanie discarded next to him on the table. nico traced his outline with his eyes, already sketching him out with his deep rich skin and his curly hair, dark and wispy, his sweet caramel eyes scanning the paragraph he was currently writing. nico suspected it was for philosophy, which was his class later in the day and they had been assigned a book report a few days earlier. the sun was starting to peek over the buildings, showering a curtain of golden light on the boy and making him glow. he was radiant.

“you seriously have it bad,” percy interrupted, silencing his train of thought. “we need to find you a better outlet for your creepy stalking.”

[[MORE]]

nico sputtered. “i’m not stalking him!”

he said that a little too loudly, causing a few patrons at the campus coffee shop to stare at him. his face flushed. at least the guy wasn’t staring, as he seemed extremely hyperfixated on getting that paper done. nico and percy began talking again when everyone went back to doing what they had been doing.

“you’ve been staring at him for the past two weeks, every day until he leaves or you leave. it’s got to stop!” percy stood up, causing the chair to stumble and nearly fall if percy hadn’t caught it at the last second. “go talk to him.”

nico sighed. well, it was better now than never. percy wouldn’t stop pestering him, and the guy seemingly got cuter every day. he’d probably combust if he would never see that boy again. so he stood up and was about to walk over to the guy when—

“shit!” the guy exclaimed after he checked his watch, hurriedly standing up from his seat and shutting his laptop closed, placing it in his carry-on bag and quickly rushing out of the shop, almost bumping into people on the way. nico was frozen. he didn’t know which was worse — the boy having left, or the fact that the boy looked at him at the last minute before running away. well, there goes that opportunity.

and... he’s gone.

“well.” percy whistled. “that went great.”

“you’re a fucking idiot.” and nico almost went back to his seat before something caught his eye on the guy’s desk. he had left his beanie.

he went over and picked it up. it was black, and had a small texas flag patch imbedded into the center front. he checked the small tag on the inside of it.

leo valdez.

“hey, you know his name now!” percy exclaimed, slapping a hand on nico’s back. “ya know, this gives you a great opportunity to—”

“percy, shut up, you were literally oblivious to annabeth showing you hints that she liked you since day one.” but nico stuffed the beanie in his bookbag anyway.

percy blushed. “it’s not my fault her hints were so obvious that they were unnoticeable.” he shook his head. “and don’t change the subject. at philosophy, you march right up to him, give him back his beanie, and ask him out somewhere.”

easier said than done, but because this was too good a chance to waste and because percy was somehow bringing his hopes up with every encouragement, he finally agreed.

“but if he rejects me, you’re buying me seventy happy meals.”

“deal.”

—

leo couldn’t believe it. he has forgotten his beanie again.

as if the day couldn’t get worse. he had barely finished his philosophy report while hanging out with piper and jason, whom he had rushed to get to in time for their scheduled study group. then he had accidentally spilled orange juice on piper’s homework. piper said it was chill since she had a backup one on her computer (one of the few times she had it, thank god) but leo had apologized immensely. then, as he was listening to aminé on his headphones, he had realized that he had forgotten his beanie at the campus café. he rushed over there in nearly a minute, and cursed loudly when he saw that it was gone. he had checked the lost and found. gone. he had asked one of the employees, and they said all they saw was a guy stuff it in his bookbag and leave with a friend.

so, yeah, his gifted beanie from frank was stolen. just great.

he sighed, exasperated with the day, and already hoping to head back to his dorm at the end of the day and fall asleep in his own misery. he rested his head on the desk. he was in the philosophy classroom, the first one because... well, he just didn’t want to be late again. he took out his phone to check the battery. 17%. he hates god.

he rested his head back on the desk when he heard a pair of footsteps enter the classroom. he suspected it was octavian, who was usually first (leo couldn’t wait to tease him about it) when he heard the footsteps enter his row. octavian sits in the back, next to that one kid with the baby bat wing hair.

“excuse me.”

leo looked up. his eyes widened, his heart stopped, his breathing stopped. it was was baby bat wing kid, but up close, and leo never even realized how hot he looked up close. the guy was freckled all over his face, with obsidian eyes and a usually grim expression that was morphed currently into one of... nervousness. he holding his backpack in one hand, which was slung over his shoulder, and the other clutching...

“is this yours?” he asked after good minute. he seemed frozen too, but leo felt a grin grow on his face.

“dude, holy shit!” he grabbed it, staring at it to make sure it was his. black, texas flag, and his chicken scratch written name on the tag inside. definitely his. “thank you! were you the one the employee said took it?”

“yeah, i, uh, wanted to give it back to make sure it wasn’t stolen,” nico answered. “i remembered you were in my philosophy class... because i look at you— i mean, you’re in the front, so you’re face is kinda hard to miss and... sorry.”

oh god, the guy was adorable too. leo felt his face flush.

“it’s fine,” he replied. “your name is... nico?”

nico blinked. “you know my name?”

“i mean, the professor calls roll every class,” leo said shrugging, seeing nico’s shoulders droop. “i remembered your voice.”

“my voice?”

“accent.”

“ah.”

they fell into an awkward silence. leo looked from side to side before sighing, already knowing his messing up his only conversation with a beautiful man that he was literally trying not to ask out. “i’m sorry, i’m a bit awkward,” he apologized.

“no, it’s fine!” nico replied. “i’m not that good at communication.”

“mood.”

nico gave a small laugh, sending a torrent of butterflies flying amock in leo’s stomach.

“hey,” nico started, shuffling his feet, “i’m, uh, a major in photography? and we’re doing a project right now, people studies and shit like that. i need a model for it by next week and...”

leo blinked. was he asking him to be a model for him? leo felt jittery, a thousand jumping jelly beans already ready to burst with the amount of blushing leo was doing.

“you want me to model for you?” nico nodded, and leo laughed.

“that sounds great dude, but, i’m not really visually pleasant for a camera—”

“but you’re beautiful!”

leo froze, looking at nico with a gaping mouth and darkened cheeks. nico covered his mouth, and leo could see him blushing hard. leo probably wasn’t any better. the two stared at each other, nico struggling to come up with an explanation and leo struggling to reply.

“sorry, uh, i should go—”

“wait, don’t!” leo stood up and grabbed his hand before he could escape (to where, leo didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to let him go). nico craned his neck towards him, and words nearly came in a jumble. “i’m... i’m free for this week and the next except saturday night and other things. i—” he took a deep breath. “i think you’re beautiful too.”

nico turned to face him, his face equivalent to a surprised puppy. he was quiet for a second. “you mind if we start tomorrow?”

“hell yeah! i’m free!” leo opened up his hand to nico, who looked at it with a raised eyebrow. “uh, phone? so we can contact each other?”

nico seemed to realize this and went “oh,” fishing out his phone and unlocking it, handing it over. leo opened up his contacts and added his in before giving it back. nico took one look and snorted.

“bad boy supreme?”

“it’ll grow on ya. text me later, i’ll see if everything on my calendar is cleared.”

“cool,” was all nico said. he looked back down at his phone, smiling the most precious smile leo has ever seen. “cool. thanks leo.”

leo frowned. “wait, you know my name?”

nico looked embarrassed, gesturing vaguely to leo’s beanie. “the beanie.”

“ah.”

leo checked his watch. five minutes till class.

“you need to tell me what to do tomorrow, or else all your pictures are gonna be me falling off a building or something,” leo joked. “and do not take any nudes of me. the last thing i want is a college scandal.”

nico grinned. “i won’t,” he said.

“good.” then leo moved on his own, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. nico sputtered adorably as leo leaned back, making leo laugh. “you’re cute. text me later.”

nico looked like he forgot was oxygen was. leo felt a little guilty. a little. “yeah.”

halfway through professor aristotle’s lecture, leo looked back to see nico staring at him. he wondered if nico had ever looked at him from up there, noticed his dark hair and busy hands that could never stay still. he wondered if nico had ever noticed him in any other occasion. regardless, he felt his heart beat faster and his brain become pudding in his skull.

nico noticed he was looking back and startled a bit, looking to the side in embarrassment. leo laughed silently, giving him a little wave. nico gave him a little one back.

—

“are you two dating?” octavian questioned, seeing nico look starry-eyed at leo in the front.

nico stared at him. “no?” he said, knowing it sounded less like an answer and more like a confounded question.

“sure,” he said, the blonde turning back to his notebook before adding, “he likes hot chocolate.”

nico didn’t know why octavian was giving him advice but he took it with no grain of salt. the guy was weird but he was also pretty helpful at times. he leaned back in his seat, stifling a yawn when suddenly his phone buzzed on the desk. he grabbed it and checked the notification.

bad boy supreme, 6:39 p.m.

hey

[catsafarithewriter]

From the resent promt list (if you feel up to it): 15 (“I’ve come to the conclusion that I can no longer rely on you to make any rational decisions.") for Baron and Haru. Have fun! :)

Day 4: Prank War

A/N: So I am definitely cheating and re-purposing a half-written prompt I got sent ages ago (sorry, nalua!) for Day 4: Prank War of the TCR Birthday Bash. This is a human AU ficlet. 

Based on this post.

x

Having Louise for a sister meant that Baron wasn’t entirely unaccustomed to strange messages at stranger times of day. 

Like the time she had texted that there was an intruder making noises in her bathroom, and only later sent a photo of a ROOMBA hover trapped behind the door that her landlord had set to automatic. 

(Baron had been halfway to her house armed with a crowbar before the situation had been resolved.)

Or the week that she communicated solely in memes.

(She sent him the entirety of the Bee movie. Twice.)

Or the 11pm text demanded to know which Greek philosopher followed Plato.

(Aristotle. It was Aristotle. And she was cheating in a pub quiz.)

(She won.) 

So he wasn’t completely shocked when he received the frustratingly contextless text stipulating the urgent need for him to send a photo of a shaved leg.

He scanned the message for signs of any obvious typos and, when he came to the reluctant conclusion that Louise had meant what she’d said, sent back, “Why?”

“it’ll be funny”

“You already have shaved legs. Take your own picture”

“a guy accidentally messaged me and he wants a pic”

“There are easier ways to pick up guys. Also. You already have a girlfriend??”

“I KNOW. god. okay but he’s being creepy and needs to be taken down like a 100 pegs you’re my big brother aren’t you meant to protect me?”

“We’re twins, Louise”

“an even better reason why you should be helping me twinkie”

“*twinnie damn autocorrect”

Baron ignored the mistake. “You were born first”

“taller = big brother”

“You’ve been calling yourself the ‘alpha twin’ for years”

“your point is?”

Baron didn’t reply. 

Eventually, Louise sent, “Humbeeeeeeerrt”

“Do you know how much effort it takes to shave a leg?”

“try shaving two on a regular basis. it sucks. okay but seriously H this guy has obviously pressured some girl into giving him her number and the fake one she gave just happens to be mine I’m not going to throw this chance away come on he’s an absolute Creep he asked for a shower pic I NEED to troll him”

Baron stared at the almost incomprehensible mess of run-on sentences, weighing up the options as if he wasn’t already mentally commited to the cause. 

“How much leg do you need?”

“!!! Thank you!! also as much as you can convincingly pass for a lady”

“How long is this going to take?”

“lol like no time at all”

x

There was no answer at Baron’s door when Haru knocked, so she let herself in with her spare key and found the beginnings of dinner in the works. It looked like Baron had at least selected out the food - pots and pans arranged and the vegetables ready to be prepared - but that was where it ended. Which was a pretty long way off completion, considering that she had been promised a meal. The radio was faintly playing and the lights were still on. 

So. A tad horror movie-esque. 

She knocked hesitantly on a wall and called up, “Uh, is anyone home?”

There was a noise from the floor above, and she cautiously took to the stairs. If this was a horror movie, she considered, she’d probably be the first to die. Curiosity and the cat and all. 

The sounds of life - or, at least, movement - lead her to the bathroom door and she gently nudged it open. 

She stared. 

Baron stared back. 

He flashed a nervous grin. “Hello, Haru.”

“We were going to have dinner, remember?” she asked, latching onto the sole remnant of logic she had left. “You invited me over, remember?”

Baron looked at her, and then at the single, hairless leg sticking out of the bathtub. “Ah.”

“Yes,” Haru agreed. “Ah.” 

She swept her gaze over the scene before her: her boyfriend predominantly hidden beneath a layer of bubbles save for his head, his phone in one hand, and that immaculately shaved leg tipped with hot pink nail polish. 

“I like the toes,” she eventually settled on.

Baron wiggled his foot. “A bit brighter than my usual shade, I’ll admit, but I think it suits me.”

“Is it mine?”

“To be fair, I didn’t have any other to use.”

A beat went by. Haru had exhausted all other possible lines of conversation and Baron seemed unusually taciturn. She inhaled and then sighed heavily into her facepalming hand. “Alright. Alright. Now I’ve come to the conclusion that I can no longer rely on you to make any rational decisions, can you tell me what the hell is going on?”

He looked at her, and then his phone, his leg, and then back to her. “A favour for my sister?” he offered.

“Oh god, is she blackmailing you again?”

“No!” Baron dropped his gaze. “Anyway, she doesn’t have anything to blackmail me with since I asked you out.”

“Sure. And what kind of favour-not-blackmail requires you to pose so prettily for the world’s most misleading selfie when we’re meant to be having dinner?”

“She’s trolling a guy.”

A flicker of understanding - far faster than Baron had pegged Louise’s plan - flashed across Haru’s face. “Oh. Ohhh.”

Baron raised an eyebrow. “The speed at which you accepted that alarms me.”

“Then you’ve never been chatted up by a guy who won’t leave you alone,” Haru answered and, fair enough, Baron conceded, she had a point. “Have you sent Louise the picture?”

He nodded, and she motioned for him to hand her the phone. “Now, dry yourself off and get some clothes on so we can have dinner. I’m starving.”

x

It was just as they were moving onto pudding that there was a ring at the door and Louise arrived in a flurry of chaos and dramatics. She flounced to the spare seat at the table with, “I got a reply from leg guy!”

Baron paused in sharing out the tiramisu to give his sister a withering look. “Hello to you too, Louise.”

“Leg guy?” Haru echoed. “Is that what we’re calling him now?”

“Well, there are other things I could call him that would be far less suitable for the dinner table. Hi Haru.”

Haru couldn’t help it. She grinned. “Heya, Louise. Baron’s told me all about your trolling plan.” 

“I take it you approve?”

“I love it. So, what did he say?”

“He wants to see the rest of me.”

Both ladies looked to Baron. 

“I’m not shaving my other leg,” he immediately said. 

Louise’s phone beeped, and she pulled it up. “Oh wow, I leave him on ‘read’ for five minutes and he’s already getting lewd. Trust me, guys, I’m saving you by not showing that pic. Whoever Yuki is, she dodged a bullet.”

Haru suddenly went very quiet. “He thinks he’s talking to a Yuki?” she eventually asked. 

“Yeah… why…?”

“I told a guy who was hitting on me last night that my name was Yuki,” Haru said, her voice getting progressively lowering with every admission. “And gave him a fake number.”

“You gave him my number,” Louise corrected.

“I thought it was random!” Haru cried. “I was picking numbers out of my head, I didn’t mean to pick an actual number I knew!”

“You told him your name was Yuki?”

“It was the name of the cat I had as a kid,” Haru admitted miserably. “I did tell him I was taken. And, even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have been interested. He was a creep.”

Louise elbowed her brother. “See? I told you he was a creep.”

“Yes, yes, your intuition is very smart,” Baron dutifully replied. “Now, hand me this phone so I can teach this creep a lesson.”

Louise hesitated. “Baron, I love you, but I am not burying a body for you.” 

“The only thing I’m going to be killing today is this snivelling brat’s ego.” 

Louise raised an eyebrow and, after sharing a shrug with Haru, passed across her phone. Baron set to taking a selfie. 

“What if he’s bi?” Haru asked suddenly.

“Or pan?” Louise added.

Baron sent the photo and hesitated. “Then I guess I have a date.”

Louise flicked a piece of tiramisu at him. “You also have a girlfriend.”

“The offer of a date,” Baron quickly amended. There was a ping from Louise’s phone, and the two ladies watched as his eyebrows rose. “Or not.” The eyebrows rose a little further. “I’m vaguely impressed by how many times he manages to repeat the same word in various forms. That is a one-word vocabulary and no mistake.”

“Give,” Louise commanded.

“Hang on, I have an idea.” He quickly took another photo, this one highlighting the stark comparison between the shaved and non-shaved parts of his leg, his face visible just to make his identity abundantly clear. “I don’t want him getting any ideas about my first photo being anything but mine.” 

Following that, Louise’s phone beeped several more times in rapid succession, each one shorter than the previous. Louise finally managed to snatch back her phone. “Are you quite done?”

“It looks like he’s had enough for today.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Louise’s eyes widened as she scrolled through the waves of swearing she’d received. Haru leant over her shoulder and gave an appreciative whistle. 

“You weren’t kidding about the vocab thing,” Haru said. “Oh, wait, he got inventive - there’s a ‘mother’ in front of that one. And... he’s finished.” She gave an impish grin. “Well. On to dessert.” 

x

Baron had almost forgotten about the incident until a week later, when Louise texted him again. 

“message from leg guy’s number again” she sent.

Baron paused in his book to answer back. “Is it an apology?”

“not from him”

“?”

“from his flatmate. he apologises for his ex-friend and wants to know if you’re single. name’s Toto”

“You know I’m taken??”

“that’ll be a no then”

[criticalfuckingrole]

Secretary knows

Part 2/? < > (I’ll code in these forward/backward bits eventually

_________

Mollymauk lead the woman- Astrid, a blond woman with an air about her that made Molly want to take four steps back, up to Archmage Ermendrud’s office, near the top of the tower. It was an exhaustingly long set of stairs, Molly could feel his ass getting firmer with the three times he’d walked up and down them.

When finally making it to the hardwood door that opened into the office, Molly knocked, letting his tail idly swish behind him, gaining glare from the woman as they waited.

“You may enter,” said the man within the office, Molly happily opening the door.

The Archmage was a very interesting man. Molly wasn’t told much about him, other than his name and status, so being around the man was more than enough to quell some curiosity. Red hair, clean shaven, and with a large cloak that seemed to cover every inch of him when closed.

Astrid- the terrifying woman with the yellow hair- walked in, and Molly smiled to them both.

“Ah… Mollymauk. When we are finished, I’ll send Astrid out myself. You may… head out for lunch.”

Bren sounded like he was trying to remember how to even speak to another person, but Molly nodded- maybe the man was just extremely awkward? That would make sense as to why not much was told about him.

“That sounds wonderful, thank you! I should be back in about half an hour, then,” Molly said, still letting himself smile- it was hard to hide the shit eating grin and be polite, “if you need me though, don’t be afraid to send someone.”

When he closed the door, he could vaguely hear Astrid mention something about “a lack of professionalism”, but he couldn’t care much about that.

Another venture down nearly 300 stairs, and lunch. He knew just the place to go, too. A small bakery with windows full of sweet cakes- one he’d knew he’d see a very close friend.

Entering the bakery, he hummed, walking up to the counter and ringing the bell, waiting….

“Molly!!!”

A flash of blue came around the corner, and there the terror herself was- Jester Lavorre, a woman who’d met Molly a few towns back at the circus.

“Well hello to you too!” He said with a chuckle, pulling the flour covered woman off him, “how’s work going so far?”

“Welllll! After the morning rush, we didn’t really have much, so I went back to work on the bread before dinner.” Jester’s voice was fast and sweet as always, “and now you’re here! How’s your job going?”

“Oh- first days pretty well! I’m just sorting papers and arranging meetings and… well, the only hiccup is the reading. Thanks for that by the way- I don’t think I could have gotten any job unless you’d told me what everything said.”

“Well duh, Molly!” Jester hummed, bouncing out of his arms and behind the counter, picking out some cakes and pastries, “same meal as the past three times?”

“absolutely,” Mollymauk grinned, leaning over the counter, pointing at a rack “get me one of those sausage things too- I don’t know how you got the idea past Harris, but those savory things are delicious.”

Jester smiled back at him, picking up a few more cakes, Molly dropping a few silvers in the other Tiefling’s hand

“So… how about you take a lunch break too?” Molly pulled up a tables chair, sitting by the counter, “Tell me how things are going with Fjord!”

[thelastarchangelaskblog]

Charcoal as Breakfast

This is another fun group chat! Involving most of the party talking about food and that you should not let Tony cook at all because otherwise bugs or tools may end up in the stew.

Tony & Zira’s Chat

Tony & Rhodey’s Chat

Tony & Rhodey Compile a List

The Trouble with Two Tonys

Rhodey & Bob(Tony)

Rhodey & Zira (and Tony)

DJ & Zira

DJ & Tony

Rhodey & DJ

** (Read more.)

It's morning time. Everyone has started waking up, moving around and breaking camp. Rhodey has gravitated towards the fire, attempting to make the rations more palatable for everyone [without much luck] and his new friend with an unknown name today and Luna are nearby.

Rhodey (to Bob): Hey, friend. What's your name today?

Jim Bob: My name is Jim, always was.

Rhodey: Alright, Jim.

Luna: Jim's a nice name.

Luna (to Rhodey): How are you with breakfast? Anything I can do to help?

Rhodey: I'm not really sure what I'm doing, so... if you have any ideas feel free.

Jim Bob: Same here. I only know the basics to cooking.

Luna goes over to look at the rations.

Luna: It looks like you're doing well. Nothing's on fire anyway.

Jim Bob: ....Should anything be on fire?

Rhodey: (chuckles) that's something I suppose. No, no, I don't think so.

Luna: I used to set my food on fire a lot when I first started cooking so I have a low bar.

Rhodey: That sounds like an exciting experience.

Luna: Not really. My Mum used to experiment so I was used to more explosions.

Rhodey: Oh? What type of experimentation? Was she an alchemist like DJ or an artificer like Tony?

Jim: Wait, there are supposed to be explosions when you cook? I was never told that!

Luna: Not when cooking, no.

Jim: Ah, okay.

Luna: She was a healer so she liked to try new things.

Rhodey: That sounds wonderful. Did you pick anything up from her?

Luna: I can make a few healing potions with a herbalism kit, but she, uh, didn't really get much chance to teach me before she died.

Jim: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.

Rhodey: Oh, I'm sorry for your loss.

Jim and Rhodey speak at the same time.

Luna: It's okay. I just miss her sometimes. I want to be someone she'll be proud of.

Jim: I'm sure you're living up to that. It can't be easy, the loss of a family member...

Luna: (mournfully) No. It's not. What are your families like?

Jim: (looks away) I don't know them.

Luna: Sorry.

Rhodey: I'm sorry, Jim.

Jim: It's fine. You can't miss what you don't know, right?

Rhodey: I suppose that's true.

Luna: It's still sad.

Jim: Yeah, I guess. I might find them if I look long enough. But enough about me, what about you, Rhodey?

Rhodey: I, uh, I'm from a farming community. Grew up with my parents and two siblings. They... Well, I was always a little different than them, but we got along. Argued and loved each other, that sort of thing. My little sister was always my favorite. She was always full of joy at everything.

Luna: That's nice. Siblings always sound like fun.

Jim: Yeah.

Rhodey: They're also a pain in the ass, sometimes. But that's what family is. Just look at Tony and DJ-- they both drive me up the wall sometimes.

Luna: They seem very skilled at that.

Rhodey: Very.

Luna: But they seem very caring anyway

Rhodey: Yes, I'm rather fond of them.

Luna: They must be happy you can call them family.

Rhodey: I hope so.

Jim: Okay, I hate to break this up but THE FOOD IS ON FIRE HELP

Luna: What? OH !

Rhodey: Shit! (He lunges to grab it out and juggles with it) Hot hot hot!

Luna pulls off her cloak and waves it at the food and fire. The smoke blows away from them.

Jim pulls his off as well and joins in with Luna)

Luna: Is breakfast okay?

Rhodey manages to pat out the fire on the food and it's just... a little charred.

Rhodey: More or less?

Luna: Still edible.

Jim: Food enough, I guess.

Rhodey: I think we should not try that again.

Luna: That sounds like a good idea. Maybe one of the others is better at cooking than us? I'm only really good with the basics. Stews and stuff.

Rhodey: Gods, I hope so. Let’s go... break the news to everyone.

Luna: And meat.

Jim: (calling out to the rest of the group) Breakfast is uh..... ready, guys. Nothing- nothing happened at all.

Luna: I'll just sort out the fire.

Rhodey face-palms and sighs.

Luna: A forest fire would be very bad. Might attract heliopaths. And kill lots of innocent animals.

Rhodey: Heliopaths? (He squints through his hand at Luna.)

Luna stamps out the edges of the fire, leaving only the controlled middle.

Luna: Heliopaths are spirits of fire they're not particularly friendly. Out here though you'd only find the children so there’s no need to worry.

Rhodey: .... ok?

Jim: That sounds pretty cool.

Luna: Which bit of breakfast is mine?

Jim: ...Or hot, depending on your perspective. And here. (He sections off rations and slides part of it to Luna.)

Luna: They're not. Thanks. But we really don't know enough about them

Jim: I'd love to know more about them later.

Luna stops talking and tucks into breakfast.

Rhodey shrugs and does the same. 

Luna: I'd love to tell you more. When we're on the road maybe?

Jim: Sure, I'd like that very much.

Tony drops by briefly to check on the cooking.

Tony: I think I’m going to eat from my rations. Note of warning, don’t let Rhodey cook again. It usually involves fire.

Jim: To be fair, we were distracted...

Tony: That is no excuse. He’s supposed to be a soldier! Vigilant! How does he lose track of what he’s cooking?

Rhodey somehow hears Tony despite being several feet away and immediately whirls around. Rhodey: That was one time, and you were involved in it, too, mister!

Jim: Oh?

Zira is dragging herself out of her bedroll, hair somehow even messier and fluffier than it normally is.

Tony: I was not! You were the only one cooking! And maybe I would have helped if someone hadn’t banned me from cooking!

Rhodey: And remind me what you were doing??

Jim: Zira! You’re up, breakfast is... uh, something.

Zira: Cooking? Why are we cooking?? Breakfast is what??

Tony (to Rhodey): I was helping DJ is what.

Rhodey: because I definitely remember an explosion.

Zira: I thought we were talking about cooking.

Jim: Luna said there weren’t supposed to be explosions when you cook...

Zira: How in the world would you explode something while you cook

Rhodey: Oh no, they weren't cooking. They were just distracting me!

Jim: I would like to know that, too, please.

Zira’s staggering over, and peers at the, uh, food.

Tony: We weren’t anywhere near the fire!

Zira: What did you do???

Rhodey: Yeah, Tony, what did you do?

Tony: Although maybe what we were doing ended up being thrown into the fire...

Jim: ...the food may or may not have been on fire?

Rhodey: Maybe? Maybe?

Zira: This is exactly something Asher would do. She loves fire.

Tony: But to be fair the food was already on fire before anything fell into the campfire.

Zira: Please don’t explode my food.

Tony: So the food being on fire was 100% not my fault. Or maybe 85% not my fault.

And before anyone else can set it on fire or blow it up or whatever, Zira grabs her portion of whatever it was and retreats back away from the flames.

Tony: The other 15% is DJ’s.

Rhodey: ...

Zira: I’ll say it once I'll say it a hundred times. Every single one of you is absolutely crazy.

Jim: ..thanks?

Tony: Well, sure we are! But what does that make you since you’re hanging out with us?

Zira: Along for the ride. And entertained. (And with that, she raises up the plate, and her face splits open, mouth widening far past what should be possible, and she swallows the burned rations whole.)

Rhodey: (mutters, wandering back to pack up his stuff) We're all insane. I'm insane... (He doesn't notice Zira.)

Tony: (calls after Rhodey) You love us!

Rhodey waves back vaguely but doesn’t turn around.

Jim doesn’t see what Zira did due to his shit eyesight.

Tony did see what Zira did and doesn’t even blink, shooting her a thumbs up and a wink.

Zira smiles back, seeming a bit confused at the thumbs up + wink but happy nonetheless, and then, she drags herself to her feet and mumbles something about coffee and wanders off towards her pack, presumably to get ready for the day.

Tony (looks at Bob): Anyway, don’t let Rhodey cook.

Jim: Okay?

Tony: I mean it. Unless you like your food being charcoal. And you honestly don’t seem the type.

Jim: Well, I can do the basics. Feel free to pitch in.

Tony: Didn’t you hear me? I’ve been banned from all cooking-related activities. You accidentally put your tools in the stew one time...

Jim: You can, uh, shout helpful advice from a distance if it makes you feel better. And how on earth do you put your tools in stew????

Tony: Well, they weren’t in the stew so much as next to the stew and I guess to be fair no one was expecting the chittering recording I was trying out...

Jim: Next to the stew?

Tony: What else am I supposed to do when waiting for it to stew? People get creeped out by bugs; I was trying out something creepy for size. ...there may have been bugs that ended up in the stew

Jim: Okay, I understand where Rhodey is coming from.

Tony: It was only the one time!

Jim: But it could happen again....

Tony: Besides, bugs are nutritious. You sound like Rhodey.

Jim: You eat a bug.

Tony: Not normally but yeah, I’ve had a few in my lifetime.

Jim tries to modulate his mental voice to sound like Rhodey's.

It doesn't work.

DM: It's very hard to change your Inner Thoughts voice.

Tony: That sounded absolutely terrible and nothing like Rhodey at all. Please do it again in front of him.

Jim: Sure.

Tony: He’d go (puts on high-pitched voice) That does not sound like me!

Jim: ...I don't think you sound like him either.

Tony: Fair. He’d probably just pat you on your back. Anyway, enjoy your charcoal. I’m going to go and eat something that hasn’t been burned.

Jim: Enjoy your meal, too!

[no6secretsanta]

For @secretagentfan from Lev. Happy holidays!

You requested creative AUs and action. That is what this fic contains. Content warnings for: character death, violence, and gore.

Shion was sweating profusely. He was clutching his hand, in awe of the two small puncture wounds deep in his thumb.

He could feel the warmth draining from his body and cold numbness radiating towards his heart from the mark. His heart was beating so hard and fast he could’ve sworn it was trying to escape his ribcage to get away from the venom that was creeping through his bloodstream.

Shion looked up at a phone on the wall in the near distance, but he couldn’t hold his head up or move his legs to even crawl towards it.

With his head pressed against the cold gritty tile on the floor, he saw an olive green creature pass over his hand he was still clutching, slithering away into the darkness. Before he knew it, his vision became blurred, then replaced with white. Shion tried with all his might to stay conscious, holding onto the hope that someone would come by and find him. He strained his ears to hear footsteps, but all he could hear was static, then silence.

“Come on, pick up…” Safu said, tapping her foot impatiently. She was ready to leave the office as soon as it turned five o’ clock, jacket and bag in hand, hoping to catch a meal with her coworker, the primary investigator of the research team, Shion.

“I told you, he’s busy,” Rikiga, the PI on another team laughed from behind a stack of papers, “just go home and eat by yourself.”

“It’s not about the food. I would happily go home myself, but it’s been dangerous these days. The bombs… the shooting… the missing people. All of this happening in just this past year, I don’t really want to go anywhere without someone.” Safu already braved through the first subway bombing incident and the shootout at the square. Then there were the unexplained disappearances and the robberies. She wasn’t stupid enough to keep risking her life by traversing the city that was now practically a warzone alone.          

“As if one more person is really going to make you safer,” Rikiga said, but upon seeing the worried look on her face, offered to take her home.

“If your car is that way, let’s see if Shion is in. He last said he was working on the viper project.”

“Viper project? Oh, are you talking about that stupid eco-friendly garbage the feds got us working on?” Rikiga said, “poor guy didn’t get his PhD to do grunt work like that.”

           “At least he’s passionate about it. Besides, how many herpetologists are in No. 6? Shion may not be a snake expert, but he’s a top evolutionary biologist who had worked with snakes before. He really was their only option,” she said.

           “I feel like there were probably other people they could’ve used….” Rikiga said.

           They walked out of the office through the grey concrete industrial halls that made up No. 6’s central research building. A lot of the above ground tower structures were offices. Underground was where the magic happened. The building was equipped with at least three hundred labs, but no one knew for sure. Every employee only had limited access to areas that were pertinent to their work. In addition, it was kind of an open secret that the government had top-secret labs, likely on the lowest floors.

           They took a lift down to a lower level marked with radioactive and biohazard warnings on nearly every lab door. Safu walked up to one of the very many plain looking metal doors and rapped three times on it.

           “Hello?”

           There was no response. She opened it.

           “I guess he’s not in,” she said. Before she could close the door, Rikiga behind her swung it wide open and pointed to the body lying slightly obscured by the lab bench. Instinctively, they ran over, and tried to shake him.

           “Hey, Shion… Shion!” Rikiga said, panic growing in his voice.

           “Shit,” Safu said, catching sight of an open plastic bin on one of the lab benches. They were the kind used for breeding vipers.

           Normally, there were about two to three smaller immature vipers packed into these bins, but this one was empty.

           “Rikiga, I’m going to call EMS. You stay with Shion. I don’t want to alarm you, but some of the vipers have escaped.”

           Rikiga swallowed fearfully, but remained on one knee by Shion’s side, keeping an eye out for any snakes while Safu tried to get help to the lab room.

           “Do you think epinephrine would help him any?” Rikiga asked, fumbling in his pocket for his epipen.

           “I don’t know. I’m not a doctor!” she said.

           “I thought you worked with animals,” Rikiga said.

           Safu’s face froze in an exasperated expression.

           “I’m just saying, you’d know better than me, I work mainly with trees…”

           Before they could administer the epipen, emergency responders burst into the room with a stretcher. They carefully placed Shion on it and strapped him in before rushing off to the hospital.

           “Hey, is he going to be okay?”            “I don’t know,” one of the responders said, and Safu and Rikiga could feel the pressure of uncertainty crushing their chests.

           Is this… death?

           Shion felt like his thoughts were echoed or slurred. He was in a state of being that was likely liminal, but he couldn’t see anything, nor hear anything. It was akin to thinking: not seeing words in your head or hearing an inner voice, but being cognizant of the process that you had a stream of consciousness. Without touch, sight, smell, taste, nor hearing, he could perceive. He could not sense his own body-- but a seventh sense arose from the background noise of this space. A seventh sense of being alive, or if not, existing.

           Concepts and non-concepts floated on by.

           The notion of this seventh sense seemed to fill this liminal space. Ah, Shion thought, coming to a realization. I must’ve been done in.

           There was no judgment of what had happened. No emotion that he could label. Just ethereal notions, like water vapors hanging in a passing cloud. Shion then knew he was waiting. Waiting for further understanding of what was happening, like waiting for these droplets to turn to rain.

           Something on the horizon of this space, perhaps wet and dark, but certainly distinct came into his field of “vision”. The warmth of familiarity rose in his chest. Whatever was left of him wanted to go to it, but he knew he was already next to it.

           Another spot appeared beside him, this time giving Shion the impression of real space- depth and dimension. What were these things? His consciousness was buzzing, once again alive with questions.

           A third spot appeared, bringing Shion into a three dimensional space with vague notions of objects in the distance. No-- people.

           Suddenly, Shion woke to an explosion of loud light. The single frequency wave of existing in that liminal space became a radioactive explosion of energy and color. All of his senses returned to him like being dropped into an ocean. Above him were Rikiga, Safu, and a man in scrubs.

           “Shion,” Safu exclaimed tearfully, and Rikiga had a look of relief on his face, wiping away a tear he hoped no one saw hanging from the corner of his eye.

           “What?”

           “Take your time,” the man in scrubs said, “I’m Dr. Yoming. You’re at the hospital recovering from a snake bite.”

           Shion lifted his right hand to his face to look for the bite marks at the center of his palm, but saw that they were dressed in sterile bandages and tape.

           “You never told me they were venomous,” Safu said, “Dr. Yoming, is he okay?”

           “From the looks of his vitals, he seems fine. I’m just… I’m honestly just astonished. I’ve never seen someone pull through from a jungle viper bite like this,” he said. Dr. Yoming was an experienced doctor, working most of his career at the under-resourced periphery of the city. The ‘outer city’, if you could even call it that, was a place that was half forest half metal scrap, thrown together by a resilient people into something of a settlement. It wasn’t an easy life, infested with thorny vines, concealing trees, wild dogs, vipers, and jaguars, but it was home to thousands.

           He’d seen ten people fall victim to the viper venom without a single recovery. The poison was always too efficient. It would spontaneously lyse any blood cells it came into contact with. By now, Shion should’ve been in an unsalvageable state of shock. But here he was, alive, and surprisingly well.

“We’re going to keep you here under observation to ensure that you truly are okay,” he said, “and after a few hours, I’ll sign you out. Do you have any questions for me?”

Shion looked up, hair disheveled but face flushed with life, staring at the doctor in disbelief.            “N-no,” he said, nothing coming to mind, “thanks.” Yoming left the room, and Rikiga and Safu came bedside.

“Shion,” Safu said, “you… I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I… I thought you weren’t going to make it,” Rikiga chimed in, “I saw you lying there, and…” Shion’s company made him uncomfortable. Was he really on the doorstep of death? Was he really alive? What the hell was going on?!

“Thanks guys,” was all he could muster in his bemused state, “I appreciate you coming here with me.” He tried to convey that he needed some time alone to absorb what had just happened, and Safu and Rikiga filed out the room, assuring him that they’d tend to any of his needs in the coming days.

Shion fell back into his bed, closing his eyes to process the near-death experience he just had. He was shocked that he felt physically fine, but he was so mentally drained. He was in need of a nap.

Just a little… nap.

              Shion woke up once again, pressing an alarm bell to catch a nurse’s attention. The annoying buzz of the alarm was like a jackhammer to his tired brain.

           “Hello?” he said, getting up out of bed, taking off his heart monitor, but it had already been detached from him. It made a drawn out beeping noise, which only made his head hurt more. He walked over carefully to the divider to look into the emergency room, beyond the already pulled back divider, to take a look at what was going on.

           Shion gasped. He looked around the room and caught sight of a man dressed in all black standing over another body.

           Fear.

           It was what he was supposed to be feeling, but he knew he had no choice. The man’s eyes locked onto his. The man had his face covered with a black scarf, and had his hair tied back. In his hands were blades of various sizes tucked between his fingers.

           “You,” the man hissed, approaching him by walking over what appeared to be more of his victims, “I sense it on you.”

           Shion’s muscles tensed. He felt his world spinning, his mind rushing with a sort of madness that wasn’t adrenaline. He didn’t feel terrified in that moment. He felt the need to survive, but more overwhelmingly, the need to strike.

           Shion, not knowing what to do, reached onto the desk to throw a stapler at the man, missing by a mile.

           “You can’t escape” the man said, rushing at Shion, ready to plunge a fistful of six to eight inch blades into his heart.

           Without blinking, or thinking, Shion dodged them, pushing the man to the ground. He fell into the desk, but was quick to get back on his feet. Given the opportunity, Shion took to the nearest hallway, hoping to get outside to seek help.

           Shion was running for his life down what felt like an endless tunnel of darkness, waiting to see the double doors of hope at the end of the hallway. But when he got to them, they were closed, and the man tracked him down.

Shion closed his eyes, knowing there was nothing more he could do.

           And in that moment, he returned to a very familiar place.

           A world without five senses, not even the sense of self. In front of him was a large wet shadow or notion of a person, much like a dream. And he could see that the shadow was growing smaller and more distant. Shion had to chase it.

He ran after it, and the shadow seemed to erratically bounce around moving in all directions.

 The man, looking on in terror at Shion, was able to not only dodge all of his blows, but was able to grab his neck with crushing strength. Somehow, he was unable to pry off what he thought was just a weak patient. He could feel the blood draining from his neck before he was able to loose himself from his grasp by throwing himself against a wall.

Suddenly, the prey had become the predator.

With inhuman speed, Shion took three stairs at a time while the man looked for a window to escape through. No matter what side route he took, somehow Shion knew where he was.

What is this… thing? The man with the blades thought, catching a quick glimpse of Shion’s empty yellow scleras in the moonlight. He was not against a man, nor a beast. He was up against something familiar, he and Shion were one in the same.

 “Tonight at ten, eleven patients killed in a hospital hold up turned deadly. Hi, I’m Lis-” Rikiga turned off the TV to return to writing his grant proposal. The deadline was coming up soon, and he had to make sure he had all of his papers in order.

“I can’t believe they can’t find the guy. This is nuts! Hospitals have cameras. I don’t get how this one guy can wreak havoc on such a massive scale without anyone having any leads on him. This Rat guy needs to get caught. This has been going on way too long.” Rikiga tapped his foot in frustration and sat down at his desk.

“He’s very sneaky. I mean, terrorists always are,” Shion said, feeling a little afraid about what happened last night. Even though he was secure with Rikiga, silence was closing in on him, making him feel anxious and in danger. He had to say something.    

           “Thanks for letting me stay over, Rikiga,” Shion said, as his coworker tried his darndest to get through the third page of his proposal.

           “Hey, it’s the least I can do. I’m just glad you were well enough to run from there. Especially after being bitten and all that,” he said.

           “Yeah…” Shion said, looking at his bandages. It was time for them to be changed. He unwrapped the dressing to reveal perfectly unpunctured skin. Shion wasn’t too surprised though, the vipers he worked with had very small fangs. He felt the impulse to touch his smooth hand, but his generous host interrupted him.

           “Hey, hey,” Rikiga warned, turning away from his laptop, “Dr. Yoming said keep that clean.”

           “Sorry,” Shion said, “it’s just… can I ask you something?”

           “Sure,” Rikiga said, “I’m having bad writer’s block anyways.” He got up from his desk and sat down in an arm chair next to the couch Shion was comfortably settled in.

           ���Have you ever had a near death experience?”

           Rikiga scratched his beard while Shion looked on expectantly.

           “Well, once when I was about five or six, I fell into the water,” he said, “and I had the whole, life flashing before your eyes thing.” His memories were fuzzy, but he knew for a fact he saw images in his head, like a slideshow, when he was drowning.

           “Did you… did you see any shadows?” Shion asked, hoping that they had similar experiences. But he could tell by the look on Rikiga’s face before he even opened his mouth that he didn’t see any shadows.

           “No. What do you mean?”

           Shion had no way of saying what he experienced to him. Where would he start? It was like having no senses and only thinking. The shadows were more like notions? They gave the illusion of space, but he knew there was no real space, it was like a pocket of consciousness. What the hell did that mean anyway?

He tried his best to explain what he felt to Rikiga who simply chalked it up to oxygen deprivation.

“You starved your brain, plain and simple. I’m glad you’re not brain damaged. You didn’t have many neurons to begin with,” Rikiga laughed, and Shion chuckled at his buddy’s joke.

“By the way, I saw him.”

“Him? Who?” Rikiga asked.

“The perpetrator. The Rat.”

             Rikiga’s eyes opened wide, seeing the dim reflection of his own surprised face in Shion’s.

           “I don’t know if it’s because I was poisoned or whatever, but… remember how I told you that I ran from the hospital out the back window?”

           “Yeah?” Rikiga said, with the same look frozen on his face.

           “Well, that wasn’t the full truth,” Shion said, picking up a glass of water and running his fingers over the imperfections of the glass. Rikiga looked like his entire being was bursting at the seams in curiosity.

           “I, how should I say this,” Shion said, “he chased me around. I blacked out, and somehow was able to escape. My only memory was getting out of there.”

           Rikiga nodded in silence, the same anxiety-inducing silence Shion had just learned to hate.

           “Hey, I think you’re just traumatized,” Rikiga said, “you should really go talk to a counselor about this. I think they’ll help you out with this one--”

           “I mean, of course I will, but I mean, that thing with the shadows... I think it was him. Like, I blacked out and was in this weird ‘dead state’, but I could sense things? I don’t know…” Shion was unsure where he was going with this, but Rikiga placed his comforting bear paw of a a hand on his companion’s shoulder.

           “Hey, you don’t have to recall it all right now,” he said, “you’re safe here. I’m not gonna let anyone touch you.” The bearded man put on his signature smile, and Shion felt a little better about what had happened. But it didn’t really explain what had happened. How did he escape, and more importantly, why didn’t The Rat kill him?

 “This is fucked up,” Safu said, rolling her office chair out of her cubicle to look at Shion, who was diligently pushing paper as if nothing had happened to him, “why didn’t they let you have a sick day?”

Shion sighed.

“It’s not that they didn’t offer, I just don’t need it,” he said. Safu furrowed her brows. She wasn’t going to argue with him during work hours, but she certainly didn’t agree with his decision.

“At least they took me off snake duty,” he said, the word snake running shivers down his spine, “besides, at least I’m going to a therapist and-”

“I get it, you’ve got everything completely under control,” she said, “look, I’m just worried about you, okay?            “It’s fine,” Shion said, “I promise,” he said with a reassuring smile. Safu had to take his word.

           “Anyways, I heard the new assignment is--”

           “-confidential.” When Shion was working on secret projects, he never leaked a single detail to anyone. Friends nor family, as it really should be. Displeased, Safu rolled back into her cubicle.

           Shion looked at the file, but all it said was to report to Lab 681, which was far underground. He had never been assigned to that block, and he wondered what kind of research was going on down there.

           After he swiped his card, he watched rows and rows of doors and busy researchers scramble on by until they dwindled to only a few, then none. He was descending farther and farther down the endless elevator shaft. The researcher gathered his belongings and proceeded down to the bowels of the earth where the lesser used labs were.

           When the elevator doors open, there was complete silence. Shion walked carefully out of the lift and looked left and right. There was just a symmetrical hallway ahead of him- five doors to the left, five doors to the right. But to the left was 681 at the end of the hallway.

           Everything was ominous about this floor. It was perfectly clean, despite being relatively unvisited, or so Shion thought. He walked towards his fated door when it opened before he stepped inside.

           “Hello Qw-55142,” the man who was in an expensive navy suit said.

           That wasn’t his employee number.

           “Excuse me, but that’s not--”

           “We’re going to be conducting some tests today,” he explained, smiling and nearly blinding Shion with his horse tooth-like veneers, “Shion Greyjoy.”

           “I don’t understand. What tests am I running?” he asked, but the man grabbed his wrist. Instinctually, Shion felt there was something wrong.

           “I know this might be different for you, but you’re going to be our subject,” he said. Shion stepped back, but the man’s grasp was still firm on his wrist. He pulled Shion into the room with inhuman strength.

           Inside the chamber was a single chair surrounded by tens of monitors. The entire room was almost full of them, and around the chair were many cameras.

           “Don’t worry. The process won’t take too long,” the man said.

           “Hey,” Shion piped up, “you don’t have my consent for any of this.” There was no way he was going to be subject to anything in this torture chamber. The room looked less like one for testing and more like one for interrogation.

           “Please cooperate,” he said, “if you don’t, the process involves more paperwork and will be much more difficult.” That was a threat.

           “I’ll cooperate,” Shion said, understanding the corruption of the research department at No 6. He heard floating rumors of this kind of thing going on. People being kidnapped to have experiments done on them. Government conspiracy kind of stuff. But Shion had enough faith in No 6. that that wouldn’t be true.

           “But,” Shion threw in a qualifier, “you have to tell me what this is all about.”

           “That I can’t do,” he said, “and not because I don’t like you Shion, it’s because I don’t even understand it myself. Sometimes you just have to follow the rules,” he said.

           “Then I want out,” Shion said, but before he could even turn around from the chair, he fell to the ground, like a soggy wet towel. A tranquilizer needle stuck out of his neck.

           “I’m sorry,” the man said, “if only you didn’t put up a fight.”

             “Where is it,” the cloaked man known as the rat scanned the research building from the outside. It was now nightfall. The best time for an invasion.

           I can smell him. Heh, silly researchers. Thinking they can hide a totem from me underground. Laughable.

           It was really nothing for him. He broke into the building with ease by cutting a hole into the glass through one of the windows. His claws were able to vibrate at the frequency that could immediately crack the glass on impact.

           Once he was inside, he went to the elevator doors and pried them open just enough for his body to slip through. His body was unusually labile and could squeeze through the smallest of holes; it was simply how his bones bent.

           Of course, there was no elevator within the shaft, but there was a single cable leading down that he could climb. Where it stopped he did not know. It showed just an endless abyss of wind. And carried on that wind was the scent of a snake.

             Shion woke up to a cocktail of drugs being pumped into his veins. He tried to free himself from the chair, but he was thoroughly strapped in. His eyes wandered around the many-monitored room.

He could see his heart rate being monitored, his blood pressure-- but also what he was seeing through his own eyes was up on the screen, along with an fMRI image of his brain. He couldn’t tell what was going on, but he could see his brain lighting up like crazy.

And then there was the feeling of getting tired… or was it blacking out? Shion closed his eyes as he sunk down into the same place he was before. It wasn’t death, but it was something different. In the distance, he saw a dark spot, far above him. And it had a very familiar shape and feeling. The shadow was rapidly approaching. Was this the end?

Suddenly, there was a suffocating feeling. A crushing sensation on his windpipe. The shadow was right before him, and it felt warm, hot even. He threw his body around, but he was too tired to direct his attack at the shadow. He flailed for a little then gave up.

              The rat breathed a sigh of relief. With the snake tranquilized like this, he would be safe. But he couldn’t be completely calm until he exfiltrated with the totem in tow.

           Of course, as soon as he thought it was going to be somewhat easy, men with guns flooded the thin hallway. The room door was still closed that contained Shion, but he knew they were going for them. He used his claws on the wall beside the room, sensing a way to escape. The next room over had some shocked researchers inside.

           Placing Shion’s body on the ground, the Rat did not hesitate to cut them down. He took out his claws and plunged into their bodies, letting their warm blood spill out all over the floor. One of the researchers seemed to be armed, and the Rat took advantage of this, stripping them of the guns strapped beneath his white coat. The man must’ve not been well-trained, as when it came to defending his life, he couldn’t even pull out his weapon. Then again, it wasn’t fair against someone who wasn’t fully human.

           The Rat, now covered in blood, held Shion to his side, like a rag doll, and waited by the hole in the wall for the gunmen to start pouring into the experiment room. He could see they were baffled as he took a shot.

           Right in the head. The others were alerted, but before they could go and stop the rat and his hostage, he threw a makeshift explosive he had in his pocket into the room. That would be their demise.

           Before they could call over reinforcements, they made their way over to the elevator. There was no way they could go up the same way that the Rat came down with the hostage limp like this. They had to go back up.

           He rushed into the elevator and tried to use Shion’s keycard on the terminal, but it didn’t respond.

           One way ticket, huh.

           The keycard was never intended to go back up. It only gave permissions to descend to floor 680.

           The Rat used the other keycard he stole off of the dead researcher in the other room and it worked, the terminal glowing green with access to the floors above ground.

           “What am I going to tell Rou,” the Rat said.

 Shion’s eyes opened to morning sunbeams streaming into his room, his eyes adjusting to the room around him. He was expecting his dingy little apartment, but instead he was inside something that looked akin to a log cabin. Where was he?

“Hey, Viper,” a voice said across the room. It was the voice of an older man. “Are you sure this is the guy?”  

“Do you think I would’ve put my life on the line if he wasn’t?” a familiar voice responded. Shion sat up in his bed and saw the Rat and an older man beside him. They both stared at their recovering patient… or hostage?

“Hey,” the rat said, casually sitting at the end of Shion’s bed. The researcher couldn’t take much more confusion or stress. He was at the end of his rope.

“What the hell is going on?!” he shouted, and the old man shook his head.

“We have to tell him,” he said, taking a seat in the armchair in the corner of the room. Shion looked nervously at the Rat who was the closest to him.

“Well, to give it to you straight, you are possessed by a forest god, The Viper. That makes you a totem for that god. Don’t worry about the words for now, just understand that you carry a god within you,” the Rat explained.

Shion gave them a bemused look, wanting to laugh at the absurdity and futility of the situation.

“I don’t think he’s getting it,” Rou the old man said, “here.” He walked over beside Shion and held out a small forest viper, like the kind that Shion had been working with in the lab.

“Call to him,” Rou said, and the forest viper crawled into Shion’s lap. Soon, tens of more of the forest vipers came through the open door to Shion’s room, approaching him.

“Make it stop!” he cried out in distress, and the vipers seemed to turn away, randomly switching up their directions.

“Do you see now boy,” Rou said, “it’s hard to fully explain, but the Gods chose you,” he said, looking up at the ceiling beams that were full of rats.

“Ah!” Shion yelled, terrified. The Rat chuckled, “hey, they’ve been taking care of you. Don’t be like that.”

One of the rats had a bundle of herbs in its mouth, and ran it on over to the Rat who took it from him. He pat its head to give him a little “Thank You”, and upon receiving the pat, the rat returned to the rafters.

           “I don’t understand,” Shion said, “I don’t have a god within me, this never happened!”

           “No,” the Rat said, “I know you’re a totem. When we met at the hospital, you were in your godform. You were blind and deaf, but I knew you could see me with your heat senses. You had no control over your powers. All the people in there…”

           “You killed them! Shion cried out,” wanting to escape this hellish room.

           “No. Those were No 6. Agents. They were looking for you,” he said, but Shion could not fully trust him.

           “How can I trust you? You tried to kill me before,” he said.

           “Did I ever try to kill you?” the Rat said, “I tried to catch you.”

           “But all those dead people…”

           “The government,” Rou said, “They don’t want you to know this, but they caught wind of the Rat in the area. They wanted to eliminate him.”

           “Who? Why?” Shion wanted to know the Rat’s real name, but more importantly, his motive.

           “Me,” he said, “I’m the Rat… but I go by Nezumi. It’s literally the same thing. Nezumi is the name I’ve been given at birth. We do not have last names here. It’s the same with Rou,” Rou nodded, “I’ve come to take back the totems before they are put under the control of No 6. They had already killed all the rest of them, or so I thought, until I met you. Normally they are passed down in family lines, but it seems like the will of the Viper God was too strong and wanted to be reborn into you,” he said, “I’m honestly very relieved to know of this.”

           “Huh?” Shion still didn’t understand everything that was going on.

           “You need to understand,” Nezumi said, “have you noticed how the forests are dying? The famines?”

           “Uh, I suppose… that’s what I’ve researched.”

           “It’s because they captured and killed the totems. They’re trying to revive them by very strange means. Breeding snakes, rats, you name it. Experimenting on captured people by making them disappear… and suspected totems out in the wild, are killed.”

           “What?! Was that what the disappearances and shootings about? Experimentation and elimination of totems?”

           “Correct,” Rou chimed in, “I fear the ultimate threat is upon us.”

           Nezumi turned around to look at the old man who was furrowing his eyebrows and turned back to Shion.

           “They’ve begun creating a chimera,” Nezumi explained, “all the dead totems… those eliminated during the foundation of No 6., their DNA was kept in order to create a hybridized godform that No 6. could control. Having humans walking around with godlike powers isn’t good for a dictatorship.”

           “Anyways, let’s cut to the chase,” Rou said, sighing, “we’ve been trying for years to stop this chimera project, and along the way, we’ve lost many friends and totems. They’ve already got our DNA from the census. But we were hoping that they wouldn’t get the Viper’s. But I suppose it’s too late.”

           Shion swallowed.

           “They may be working on it at we speak. They think they know how to control it, but it will only bring ruin and misfortune. This great disrespect for the gods… it will not go unpunished,” he said. “I am too old to fight beside you, but I want to introduce you to one more totem. Meet Inukashi,” he said, gesturing to someone outside of Shion’s field of vision. A child covered in filth came in barefoot and looked at Shion, a feral, wild look in his eyes.

           “Hello?”

           Inukashi looked at Rou and didn’t speak.

           “The child-- the Dog Totem, as is tradition, does not talk. Not of their own accord, but it is the will of the Dog God.”

           “You three… you must restore peace to the Forest Nation once and for all. No 6.-- the city I had helped built and deeply regret-- must be saved from itself. There is no time, you have to return to the city at night fall, find the chimera, and destroy it. We’re losing time, and I sense the presence of the other gods growing stronger and stronger. After all, you’ve been knocked out for a week and a half.”

           Shion flopped back into bed in shock, as Nezumi shook his head and Inukashi looked at the researcher with suspicion.

           When night had finally come, Nezumi had led him and Inukashi to the research building. It seemed like the building was under heightened security, as patrol officers were roaming the premises. There were many more cameras, and Nezumi cursed them under his breath.

           The child sniffed the air, and with his canine senses, alerted them to one guard who was walking alone, perhaps unplanned. Nezumi gave the child a nod, and with godlike strength and power, the child charged, bit the man on the neck, and gave him a death shake. The man didn’t even have time to scream or fight. Hoping for something useful, Nezumi looted the man. There were of course weapons and IDs on him, but they were not the kind they had found the other night on his descent to rescue the Viper totem.

           Nezumi tried to look around for a way back to the earth’s core, while Inukashi returned to sniffing the earth for clues. All the while Shion felt useless looking around at nothing.

           “Hey,” Shion said, quietly, but Nezumi just put up his finger to his lips to signal him to be quiet as he slid the man’s body into a bush.

           Well now what?

           Then Shion had a moment of realization. Most of his coworkers would recognize him and not know that anything was really that wrong, despite him being gone for a week. It wouldn't be that different anyways since he would go missing for days at a time, completely immersing himself in his work. He told his team of his plan and got to work.

           He walked over to his research building as if nothing was wrong. His office was not as heavily guarded as the office tower that Nezumi had broken into. Even if he got caught, it was his office after all, and he had his own ID with him.

           He scanned his keycard into the building confidently, but it didn’t work.

           “Hey,” a voice said behind him, sending shivers down his spine.

           “Uh…” he said, too afraid to turn around.

           “You’re going to act like that after I haven’t seen you in what feels like weeks!?” Rikiga said, putting his bear paw hand on Shion’s shoulder, “it’s bad enough I haven’t seen Safu around either. She’s been reassigned apparently.”

           “My keycard isn’t working,” Shion said with a lump in his throat.

           “You’re such a man of practicality. I was hoping to hear some warm words for you,” he said, and let Shion tailgate him.

           “It’s pretty late, what are you doing here?” Shion asked, and Rikiga said he could say the same of Shion.

           “More tree-related paper work. I don’t know why, but HQ keeps sending me back these papers, it’s pretty infuriating.” From the corner of his eye, he could see them hiding out in the bushes.

           “Uh… Shion? Why are those guys hiding out? I mean, you can tell me. I just want to know what’s going on,” Rikiga said, and Shion started to sweat profusely.

           “We’re, uh, the truth is…”

           “You’re going to try and rescue Safu, aren’t you?” It’s as if Rikiga was trying to give Shion a legitimate excuse to be here.

           “Look, it’s dangerous down there. Safu went down there and hasn’t come back. We’re not supposed to talk about this, but I really think they’re up to no good. HQ has been acting very suspiciously lately and has closed down all the floors past 300. That spells trouble, don’t you think? Maybe there was some contamination…”

           “Rikiga, is there something you want to tell me?” His eyes looked like they were full of secrets. They were eating him alive. He wanted to say something.

           “I’m … I’m sorry Shion. I should’ve never given into HQ. I know you’ll never forgive me, but… I had to pick two office mates for a secret assignment. I thought it was something that you guys would have wanted, so I suggested you two. I had no idea…”

           “What do you mean?”

           “They were going to take you in as subjects…” he finished, rubbing his fingers together nervously.

           “I know what they’re doing down there. They said they were trying to do some sort of … genetic experimentations. Chimera stuff. They’re totally going to eliminate me. This is all recorded,” he said, tears streaming down his face as he pointed to a camera.

           “Rikiga, listen to me. Nothing is happening to anyone. We have to get down there to stop the Chimera. If we don’t…”

           “Then something is happening to someone!” Rikiga shouted, “it’s all my fault and I can’t do anything. I don’t even have keycard access down there,” he said, lying through his teeth about his access. Rikiga was high up enough to know about the project, so he was high up enough to have access.

           “Let my friends in, and we’ll all be okay,” Shion said, calmly. Rikiga opened the door for Nezumi and Inukashi.

           “Rikiga, I trust you. Give me the keycard. You need to go home now. Bring your tree papers if you have to. But I don’t want you here. Not for what might go down soon,” Shion said.

           “If you go down there, we’re all dead,” he said, “I c-can’t let you go…”

           “Then you’d rather let Safu be tortured to death? You said it yourself you regret it. The least you can do is let us through.”

           “Who are these people?” Rikiga was clearly stalling now.

           “Key us into the elevator,” Shion said, “I do this because I care. Do this. This is my last wish.”

           Before they could get the key card, a light shone into the office. It looks like they were busted.

           “Shit,” Nezumi said, and Rikiga fell to the ground in a pool of blood.

           “What are we going to do?” Shion said, panicked, darting around the room trying to find cover. They were certainly going to blow the entire place up.

           “We have to escape,” Nezumi said, running towards some of the blasted-out windows at the back of the office.

           “Or we fight,” Shion said, and his companions thought he had completely lost his marbles. Shion knew there was no way they’d make it out alive if they ran, but he could do one thing-- call upon the Chimera.

           This was his final resort. Since the totems could call upon any animal they were associated with, he could call upon the viper within the chimera that they had assembled.

           From the bowels of the earth, a horrible monster burst through the ground. It had the wings of birds, the tail of a snake, legs of a dog, scales of a fish, the stripes of a tiger, and other features that Shion couldn’t fully make out through the debris and rubble that was sent flying around. The great beast turned around and looked at Shion. He felt like his nervous system was melting.

           The firing squads were trying to subdue the beast the best they could, but the sheer size of this beast, perhaps the size of four eighteen wheeler trucks, was too much. They were overcome.

           “Shion!” Nezumi shouted angrily, but he understood they had no choice. Now it was a matter of taking the beast down.

           “Shion,” Nezumi shouted, “Look out!” The beast stretched out a paw the size of a sedan, and Inukashi leapt into action and bit it. Throwing the child aside.

           “Inukashi!” Shion shouted out, but there was no response in the darkness. The tower was being destroyed by the hulking beast, and it seemed like there weren’t anymore bullets raining down on the chimera. The chimera started to move, destroying three towers in its path. With one tail sweep, it brought down an entire housing complex.

           “Kill the totem,” Nezumi shouted. The totem… that’s it… the host! He’d have to somehow see where he was within this mess. His viper powers were activated. He could finally see a heat map of each part of the chimera. They had their own signatures… and in the center, was a human sized shadow pattern of heat that Shion had grown accustomed to.

           “Cut him open,” Shion said to Nezumi,” and Nezumi sprang up on the beast, plunging his blades into one of its softer fleshier spots. Inukashi, emerging from the debris, joined in on the assault, pulling off one of the Chimera’s eyes from its ugly heads that seemed to be a turtle head. The beast lashed out in pain, as Nezumi bored deeper and deeper with his ultrasound blades. Shion, with his heat blindsight, could see that he was in deep enough to reach the center.

           He shimmied in deeper and deeper until he got close up to the shadow, but he saw the face of Safu at the center… his friend was the totem. Nezumi and Inukashi were growing impatient with him, trying to stay on the giant beast at risk of being thrown off of it at any second.

           “Hurry up!” Nezumi shouted from outside of its fleshy layers.

           Shion held Safu’s neck in his arms, and started to choke her as best he could, but she resisted with a sort of inhuman power. The walls of the organs of the beast started to constrict around him instead, secreting a powerful acidic substance that burned his skin.

        ��  “Bite her!” Nezumi said, and Shion turned back to Safu’s shadow, and bit into her as hard as he could.

           “Shion…” Safu’s voice weakly said, as she came to her own individual consciousness. She cried out in terror.

           “What… what’s going on? Where am I?” she realized her limbs were fused with the tissues of the other beasts that were making up the chimera and panicked.

           “Call your beasts. We’re going to tear this from the inside out,” Shion shouted at Nezumi, who called his rats to feast upon the innards of the beast. Inukashi called upon the dogs to siege the chimera from the outside, and what ensued was a bloodbath. The totems were covered in crimson bodily fluids from the beast. Shion tried his best to escape the constricting walls as Safu lost consciousness once again, slashing haphazardly at the mucosal linings inside of the monster.

           He reached out for Safu’s hand, but before he could, he was being pulled out by Nezumi. The chimera was a pile of mush and blood. It had been defeated, but Shion did not feel the least bit happy about his victory.

           With the chimera defeated, the gods could rest at ease. The forest was proliferating once more, but there was a new respect for the forest people. No 6. Eventually fell, returning to its previous state as the Forest Nation. Inukashi and Nezumi were pleased fulfilling their totemic duties, but Shion could only feel the loss of two of his friends and his way of life.

           “Shion,” Nezumi said, putting a hand on his shoulder. It startled the ex-researcher-now-totemic-warrior.

           “I came by to see the memorial, I figured you were here.” Where there was once a research center was a park full of trees and hiding spots for little forest creatures. At the center was a stone slab memorial to all of those lost in that night assault.

           “You know, they’re probably saying thank you,” Nezumi said.

           “The Gods?”

           The Rat shook his head.

           “Rikiga and Safu,” he said, “you saved them. Saving someone doesn’t necessarily mean rescuing them from death. Living with the guilt of killing your friends or living out a hellish eternity as an amalgamation of the anger of the gods is much worse. Stop blaming yourself.”

           Shion got up from his kneeling position in front of the memorial.

           “I suppose you’re right.”

           “Besides, isn’t this what everyone wanted? The forest has peace at last, for everyone.”

           Shion left his flowers at the memorial among the thousands of other offerings there, and took Nezumi’s hand and walked away.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

DOTW 47 - Start

They'd over shopped. Well and truly. Levi telling Eren to grab whatever he felt like, and Eren doing just that. Rather than go for highly processed food, Eren picked the healthier options. His omega naturally didn't extend that luxury to chocolate, grabbing three big family sized blocks of his favourites. By the time they reached the checkout, Eren was fading on his feet and Levi had never seen a shopping trolley so full. With enough food to last them a month, Levi found he had to get creative. Meat and vegetables soon got repetitive, and like when he'd been trying to get Eren eating properly, Eren was back to eating 6 small meals a day. If he'd been working, he wouldn't have been able to be there the way he currently was for his omega. Eren's morning sickness was still hitting hard, and he was still struggling with being intimate with his omega. It was like Eren needed his attention every second of every day, and honestly as much as he loved being the centre of Eren's world, he was spending so much time comforting him that they were still yet to talk. Every time the conversation vaguely turned towards what had happened, Eren would clam up. Or crawl into his lap for attention. They could talk about anything else... just not what happened while his boyfriend was awol for 10 fucking weeks. Then there was Erwin. Erwin was still sleeping on their sofa. He didn't know how to evict him though, not when Erwin wouldn't take his not so gentle hints of telling him to "fuck off back home". It felt like Erwin had taken it upon himself to chaperone then in their own fucking apartment. The one time Eren had decided he wanted to be intimate had been on the sofa. His boyfriend climbing into his lap and claiming his lips, despite the fact Levi was actually interested in the movie there were watching. That soon went out the window. His alpha confused, but also aroused by the fact Eren wanted him badly enough to make the first move. Not making it off the sofa, Eren was riding him. His boyfriend was only wearing one of Levi's oversized shirt, that didn't hide a thing. Meaning It did absolutely nothing to hide the fact they were fucking when Erwin let himself in... just as his knot popped and Eren came between them with an unmistakable groan of release. In his defence, Eren was always vocal during sex, and just because his words weren't working didn't mean his moans weren't. He hadn't heard a fucking thing. In fact, Erwin was the one who should have fucking known it wasn't safe to come in. Gasping and panicking, Eren had tried to climb from his lap, almost managing to tear himself off Levi's knot. It wasn't a great feeling for either it them. And Erwin stood there for a full thirty seconds before closing the door to them. Intimacy went out the window after that. Eren wasn't even sleeping in his bed, with him. Not all the time. He was like Titan. He'd start the night off in his own room, wander into Levi's at some point, and then back to his own. So for Levi. It was a painfully long fucking week that left him fucking exhausted. * Eren was on autopilot as Levi got him ready to leave. The alpha's nerves were sky high. His anger barely contained as he spent the whole morning snapping at every little thing. Titan had vomited across he kitchen floor. The toaster had decided to die, and then go magically flying, leaving a trail of crumbs as it did. Drawn by the noise, Eren had sleepily stumbled from the bathroom. Looking to the mess, he'd given a squeak and darted into his bedroom. Sending Erwin in to check on him, Eren was hiding in his bed. The omega refused to come out, so Levi had to go in. Getting Eren up, dressed and sipping water so he'd have a full bladder for his ultrasound, he nearly yelled at him. He also didn't miss the fact Eren's phone was flat, and signing to him wasn't getting anywhere. The little shit had picked the worst day to be a brat. He knew he was fucking nervous about the ultrasound, but that didn't mean he needed to shut everyone out. They were barely on time. He'd had to drag Eren along, despite how worked up Eren had become during the drive. Called through the moment they got there, the technician proceeded to bombard Eren with questions. Happily asking if this was Eren's first ultrasound. If he was excited. If this was first baby, and how far along he thought he was. Getting no answer, the man fell silent, leading them into the room. The dark atmosphere wasn't what Eren was expecting, the omega coming to a dead stop "It's fine, brat" "Is he alright?" "Yeah. He's just nervous. He's also currently mute, so don't take his silence personally" There was a coolness to Levi's words, but once said, he couldn't exactly take it back "Right. Alright then, Eren jump up on the bed for me and we'll get started" Getting positioned, Levi stood by the bed. His hand on Eren's shoulder rather than holding his hand, as his alpha internally melted down. He was about to see someone else's pup, growing inside his boyfriend. It left an unbearably bitter taste in his mouth, but that paled when compared with the bad taste his own actions and thoughts were causing. He'd never thought it would bother him as much as this... and he couldn't deny his feelings emotions from Eren's pregnancy scare were bleeding into the situation. They'd wanted to experience this together... and now, some other alpha had taken that from him. Wriggling as the gel was smeared across his stomach, both he and Eren were holding their breaths "Ah. Here we go. Eren, meet your baby" The tiny human in the sea of black was the most amazing thing Levi had ever seen "You look to be about 11 weeks... here, do you want to hear your baby's heartbeat?" Tears filled his eyes. The strong sound stirring his alpha "Do you know the approximate date of conception?" Levi cough to clear his throat, choked up on emotion "Around the 10th of April or so" The technician nodded, typing on his keyboard "All these measurements are looking good. There's a little more fluid than I'd expect. But nothing to be worried about. At this stage, everything looks to be going smoothly. Are we doing the genetic screening tests today?" Eren looked up at him for an explanation "Yeah... yeah. Don't worry. It's just to make sure nothing is wrong with the baby" Normally his obstetrician would take care of that, but Levi hadn't made that appointment as he was still yet to see his doctor. His brain couldn't math "Wait. Just for clarification, conception date..." The man looked like he'd heard the question a million times before "Looks about right for April. Is there some question over the father?" "N-no" For all the times to fucking stutter. Eren looked hurt, his eyes shifting back to the screen "Do you two need a moment? We can take a blood sample and perform a DNA test" "No, it's fine..." He was going to be a father... and suddenly he was kicking himself all over again for his behaviour and attitude. Burying his face in Eren's hair, he breathed in deeply. He'd been such a fucking arsehole to him. This was his pup. He'd been a shitty jealous idiot for nothing. Eren hadn't loved the placenta sample being taken. Levi taking his hand and having it crushed during the procedure. He'd perked up when receiving photos from the procedure, but fallen silent all over again as they left the room. Stopping by the bathroom for Eren's sake, his omega brushed him off and ignored him completely when he came out. Letting himself out ahead of Levi, Erwin rose to great the omega, while Levi was left jogging to catch up to the pair as they walked towards the exit "So? How did it look?" "I'm the father. I'm going to be a father. We're having a pup" Erwin's smile was huge as he pulled both him and Eren into crushing hug "Congratulations! That has to be a relief" Eren shoved Erwin off of him, his eyes filled with tears "I told you I never f-fucking slept with anyone else!" His boyfriend's voice was gravelly from lack of use. Erwin's smile dropped, while Levi looked away in shame "You said you'd love me, and my pup. But you hated it when you thought it wasn't yours" Coughing, Eren's hand went to his throat "Eren, rest your throat. It's going to feel weird talking again" "I'm done" Levi felt like those two words went right through him "What do you mean you're done?! You go missing and show back up in a mental facility, pregnant. You're not fucking talking about what happened and you weren't fucking pregnant when you left! How am I supposed to take all this?! I fucking you love. I love you and you left again. So of course I'm going to have trouble adjusting to the fact you're fucking pregnant. Of course I'm going to be fucking jealous someone else touched you. You never fucking said anything. Do you know how worried I was about you? Do you? Do you have any idea what I went through? I thought you were dead and then you showed up in the middle of nowhere. So yes. I didn't love that pup. But you didn't give me a chance. If I had time to think or five fucking minutes to myself, I might have been able to sort out how I felt, but every waking moment I've been by your side" "We should take this outside" Erwin was right, they'd attracted attention. But Eren wasn't done "Fine. You want me gone again. I get it. I want to go Hanji's" Eren rasped out the words, grimacing in discomfort "Look. I think you both need to calm down. Eren, Levi loves you. And yes, he lost his mind when you disappeared again. You've had time to get adjust to this pregnancy, and he hasn't. It's not easy for an alpha to accept their omega has been touched by another, and with no idea how far along you were, Levi couldn't control the anger his alpha has been supplying. He wanted a future with you, so he's been trying to figure out how you felt about this pup and pregnancy. Especially after what you both went through when you thought you may be pregnant. If it was from a non-consensual encounter, he was preparing to support you, no matter what you chose. Everything he's done, has been for you. Think about what he's been through" Eren burst into tears, hugging himself tightly. Levi was slightly in shock from Erwin being able to explain things so easily. It was everything he wanted to tell Eren "Look. I was a dick. I was jealous at the idea it wasn't mine. I do love you. And I'm sorry for being an arsehole. It's just a lot. All of this is a lot. It's all happening so fast. Shit. I sound like a shitty idiot. Do you get it? I'm sorry"