#or if im being too rigid and harsh

[phantasmanatic]

watching my almost 1 1/2 years relationship slowly fall apart bc my partner despises my autistic traits and not being able to tell if

a. i mostly unmasked relatively early on and he’s just hit the point of being fed up with dealing with me

or. b. i masked for like a whole year and now he’s realizing he hates everything abt me bc i finally started to unmask but he feels in too deep to just leave

[koiiiji]

yoo this one is dedicated to Sammy cuz yk i haven't found any new fic for him for a long time that's why im craving his content so much 🥲🥲 anyways, the situation involves an argument leading to a day of silent treatment. after falling asleep on the couch, you wake up to find him sleeping beside you, having carried you to bed. you hug him from behind, he turns to cuddle you, and you two end up resolve the earlier issue 👏🏼👏🏼 (this is ooc af but who cares, i'd die for these bastards being a big softie for their gf 🥲)

thankewww *sending a big hug* ✨

why are you care so much?!

tw ; argument, hurt/comfort

author's note ; i changed idea just a little of you don’t mind!! also i still think we don’t know that much about Sammy, but i tried to make him less ooc as possible. it’s been a while since the last time i wrote for our baby Sammy😭😭 thank you for request😋💌

₊‧.°.⋆💭•˚₊‧⋆.

“you’re so impossible sometimes!” your voice cracked with frustration, the tension that had been building for days finally boiling over. Seongeun didn’t flinch. instead, his eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms, his posture rigid and unyielding. “impossible?” he scoffed, his tone dripping with condescension. “you’re the one making a big deal out of nothing. why are you always so sensitive?”

that was it. the arrogance, the dismissiveness — it was like he couldn’t understand why any of this mattered. his cold, superior attitude pushed all the wrong buttons, and you felt a surge of anger rise in your chest.

“because i care, Seongeun! i care about us, about you! but it’s like you don’t even want to try!” your voice trembled with emotion, frustration boiling over as you tried to make him see how much this hurt.

he rolled his eyes, as if your words were nothing more than a mild inconvenience. “you care too much. not everything has to be an issue. you make it seem like the world’s ending every time we fight.”

his indifference felt like a slap in the face. it wasn’t just the argument that hurt — it was how he always acted like he was above it, like your feelings were an inconvenience to him. the wall he put up, the coldness — it was suffocating. he didn’t understand, and worse, he didn’t seem to care.

you felt a lump forming in your throat, but you refused to let the tears fall. “i can’t do this right now,” you muttered, your voice small and defeated. grabbing your pillow and blanket from the bed, you shot him one last look, your heart aching with the weight of everything left unsaid.

without waiting for his response, you stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind you. the noise echoed in the silent hallway, but you didn’t care. you just needed to get away.

₊‧.°.⋆💭•˚₊‧⋆.

Seongeun stood there in the empty room, his jaw clenched as he stared at the door you had just slammed. the silence felt heavy, but instead of feeling guilty, all he felt was… irritation. why did you always make things so complicated? in his mind, this whole fight was pointless. you cared too much about things that didn’t matter, and you expected too much from him — things he wasn’t even sure he could give.

“why does she take everything so seriously?” he thought to himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. he sank down onto the edge of the bed, glaring at the spot where you had been just moments ago. he couldn’t understand why you always got so worked up over things he thought were trivial. to him, the fight didn’t even seem worth having.

but even as he told himself that, something nagged at the back of his mind. maybe he’d been a little too harsh, a little too dismissive. he didn’t regret what he’d said — he still believed you were overreacting — but there was a flicker of discomfort, a pang of conscience, knowing how upset you’d been.

he leaned back, staring at the ceiling, trying to shake off the feeling gnawing at him. he didn’t understand why this mattered so much to you, why you always wanted to talk about feelings and emotions. to him, those things were irrelevant. you were together, weren’t you? that should be enough. but clearly, it wasn’t. not for you.

a few minutes passed, the silence of the room pressing in on him. the bed felt too empty, the absence of your presence strangely noticeable. he glanced at the door, his thoughts swirling in frustration. he wasn’t wrong — he knew he wasn’t. but even so, something in him couldn’t shake the image of you storming off, the hurt in your eyes as you left.

“damn it,” he muttered under his breath, pulling blanket over his head. why did he care? he will just try to sleep and you both will make it up in the morning.

but somehow, no matter how he tossed and turned, no matter how he lay down, sleep didn't came...

₊‧.°.⋆💭•˚₊‧⋆.

in the quiet of the living room, the only sound was your shallow breathing. your heart pounded in your chest as you threw the pillow onto the couch and sank down, wrapping yourself in the blanket. the argument replayed over and over in your mind, each hurtful word echoing like a heavy weight in your heart.

why did it always have to be like this with Seongeun? he never let you in, never showed you the vulnerable side you knew was buried beneath his cold exterior. it felt like you were fighting to be a part of his life, but he was always pushing you away, afraid to let you see the real him.

tears stung your eyes, and you buried your face in the pillow, trying to muffle the sobs that threatened to escape. you loved him — despite everything, you loved him so much. but it was exhausting, and tonight, you couldn’t handle the weight of it anymore.

as the emotional toll wore you down, sleep eventually claimed you, though it was restless and heavy with sorrow.

₊‧.°.⋆💭•˚₊‧⋆.

Seongeun approached slowly, his eyes lingering on your figure. you looked so small, curled up like that, your face still damp from the few tears you’d shed earlier. his jaw clenched, that familiar arrogance bubbling back up. why did you always take things so personally?

but then, as he stood there watching you sleep, the sight of you — vulnerable, hurt — tugged at something deep inside him, something he usually buried beneath his cool, unbothered exterior. he sighed, kneeling down beside the couch. for a moment, he just watched you, his expression softening despite himself. he didn’t fully understand why you cared so much, but… maybe it didn’t matter. what mattered was that you did. and that was enough to stir something in him.

carefully, he slipped one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back, lifting you into his arms. you stirred slightly, murmuring softly in your sleep, but you didn’t wake. he carried you back to the bedroom, his movements gentle, though he still tried to convince himself that this was all unnecessary and he doing it only for your comfort.

once he laid you down on the bed, he pulled the blankets up around you, hesitating for a moment as he looked down at your sleeping face. his conscience gnawed at him again. he still didn’t fully get why you were upset, but the guilt lingered. he didn’t like the idea of you hurting because of him, even if he couldn’t quite admit it out loud.

Seongeun turned off the light and climbed into bed beside you, settling on his side with his back facing you. he stared into the darkness, his thoughts swirling in frustration and confusion. why did everything with you feel so complicated?

but as the silence of the room enveloped him, the usual coldness in his chest started to soften. the argument still echoed in his mind, but now, with you lying beside him, it didn’t seem to matter as much. he didn’t want to admit it, but there was something comforting about having you close.

₊‧.°.⋆💭•˚₊‧⋆.

you woke in the middle of the night, blinking slowly as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. the couch was gone, replaced by the familiar warmth of your bed. you frowned slightly, confused. how had you ended up back here?

turning your head slightly, you saw Seongeun’s broad back facing you, his breathing steady, as he was asleep. he had carried you back. despite the argument, despite everything, he hadn’t left you alone.

your heart softened at the thought. as frustrating as he could be, you knew Seongeun cared — he just didn’t know how to show it the way you needed. even in his arrogance, in his coldness, there was a part of him that wanted to make things right, even if he didn’t understand why you were upset.

you scooted closer to him, the blanket rustling softly as you moved. carefully, you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against the solid warmth of his back. you felt him stiffen for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure how to react. but he didn’t pull away.

instead, with a quiet sigh, he reached down and covered your hands with his own. his touch was surprisingly gentle, though his pride kept him from saying anything.

“are we still fighting?” he asked, you could feel a smirk tugging at his lips.

his eyes were half-lidded with sleep, but there was something soft in his voice, as it sound low and quiet in the dark.

you shook your head slightly against his back, feeling a smile tug at your own lips. “no, not anymore.”

then, slowly, Seongeun shifted. he turned onto his back, pulling you along with him until you were lying on top of him, your head resting on his chest. his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you close in a way that felt more natural than you’d expected. his heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, and for a moment, the tension between you faded.

“i don’t know why you care so much,” he murmured after a long silence, his voice low but not as sharp as before. you smiled at how he tried to pulling it out of himself “but… i’ll try not to make it worse.”

it wasn’t exactly an apology, but it was enough for now. you closed your eyes, snuggling closer into his warmth, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“that’s all i want,” you whispered, your voice soft.

Seongeun didn’t respond, but his hand tightened slightly around you, a quiet acknowledgment of the unspoken truce. and for now, that was enough.

[lustlovehart]

I usually struggle with writing/commenting on anything, but I gotta. The monster!AU, that Malleus piece? Fucking gold. I absolutely loved it. I don't know how often I reread it. Likely seriously. It's so good. I love your writing style, I love how you portrait Malleus as absolutely infatuated but still as a (powerful) monster who, well, does monster things. En mass, since he's so powerful.

I'd love to see more of the Monster!AU (especially Diasomnia, I'm a sucker for them), but I also just wanna say I'm gonna read whatever you post anyway.

Love your work, I hope you're doing well and have a fun spooky month ahead of you!

People really reread my stuff that much?!?! IM HONORED.

Honestly, I really thought the Malleus piece would only get like, 100 notes as it was on the older side. I did go back and add more to it though, so that might be why it got more traction than expected 😭.

My writing style for Monster!Twst is basically just a constant, “How do I make it sound romantic enough for everyone to understand their interest“ and “how do I make them crazy murderers?“

Malleus and Readers dance was probably one of my favorite ways to show it! (There was also something simialr to it in the Incubus!Vil piece, but its a bit more subtle compared to Malleus. This next paragraph is just gonna be me blabbing about Hard Stoned Gallery Dance guys!)

I tried to show MH!Darling’s lack of awaraness of the danger he imposes in the dance! Throughout the whole thing they’re sloppy, essentially relaxed as each step they take is messy, but still lands where they’re meant to. Menwhile, in the complete opposite of the spectrum is Malleus, who is quite literally serandaing you with praise and kisses, while performing the dance with perfection.

It shows how oblivous reader can be about the danger they let run rampant into the world, and said danger lovingly holding them in his arms.

Until you smell the foul stentch, and the disposition changes immediately. You become rigid with worry, while Malleus’s gentle grip becomes harsh, movments becoming swift amd sharp with no time to reciporocate.

I’m sorry about that ramble, but i wanted to gush about the one part I liked about the fic (≧◡≦) ♡

Don’t worry! Ive stated before there will be a lot more Monster!Twst to come, especially with it being halloween season (￣▽￣) (I have like 3 requests for the Au, The Heartslaybul chapter, and one extra post with a potential thought of Fellow and Skully!)

Speaking of Diasmonia, all the dorms play a heavy part in the story, but! They’re actually a bit more of special case! similar to the actually storyline in twst, I wanted to make it so Diasmonia was basically a mystery factor within the plot, so, they may or may not be some parts where they’re mentioned, or possibly, even there...!

Whether you read only Monster!Twst or my other stuff, i’m happy you spend time out of your day enjoying my writing! Thank you for your kinds words, and I hope you have a very sppoky october too!!!! ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

[animeyanderelover]

Um hi its me again and i wanted to send in another request, and im sorry for bothering this is my first time sending request so i don't know if im doing this right, but i wish for another haikyuu hc with the same characters from my last request except suna is replaced by tendou: yamaguchi, hinata, kageyama,sugawara, kenma, akaashi, oikawa, kita, tendou, goshiki with a s/o gets in a fight? Basically the s/o finds out that this girl is trying to get with/flirt with their boyfriends and how the boys react to this is up to you but the s/o gets very mad, like going crazy mad. So they go up to the girl and started fighting. And not just some slapping or pulling hair, no i mean full on punches, kickes in stomach, black eyes and broken noses. Like this is a BLOODY fight and a big one at that. So how would react to seeing this fight? Would they try and stop it or cheer on? Would they be upset or would they feel honored that you fight for them?

Thank you and sorry for bothering you i and i just wanted to say that i love your blog it makes my day everytime time i read from here.

You don't bother at all.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, manipulation, violence

This is a bloody fight

Kōshi Sugawara

🤍Suga is one of the more pleasant ones to react to this, although he’s not happy. He’s just telling the girl politely at first that he already has someone else and asks her to leave him alone. If she’s going to be persistent, he might get slightly colder with his words and behavior, his face trying to carry the amicable smile before that last mask finally drops and he stares at her with a cold look in his eyes. He’s just about to drop it to her in a way not fitting for his usual sunshine facade but then his s/o suddenly storms into the scene, grabs the girl by the hair and yanks her back. This startles Suga, he didn’t expect this sudden outburst of violence and he will do his best to instantly stop his s/o from doing anything that could lead to troubles.

🤍He’s pulling them back, tells them in a raised tone to stop this, that the girl has surely learned her lesson now and that he could have handled this by himself too. He leaves with his s/o soon after, keeps a close eye on them just in case so that they don’t accidentally try to attack again. He scolds them thoroughly once they’re home again, expresses his disappointment with them with an upset look on his face, eyebrows furrowed. He’s not one for physical violence as he relies more on subtle manipulation and that for a reason. You could get into serious troubles for assaulting someone. He’s disappointed with you for days after, monitors you closely. He starts lecturing you a lot more too about how to behave and what not to do, treats you like a naive and impulsive child.

Tobio Kageyama

🌧️At first Kageyama just goes rigid when a girl suddenly starts flirting with him, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. After a while there is disgust bubbling up inside his chest though as he realizes that she wants something from him despite knowing that he has a partner. That’s when he gives her a harsh glare and tells her with a clearly agitated voice that he doesn’t want anything to do with her. When he suddenly sees in the corner of his eye his darling approaching, he feels scared. He fears they might accuse him of something which undoubtedly fuels his paranoia but before he can even explain himself, they grab the woman by the hair and deliver a punch right into their stomach.

🌧️Generally talking, Kageyama is a Yandere more prone to throw hands if the situation calls for it, tends to manhandle people who agitate him. Yet he’s never seen nor expected this from his darling and for a short moment he genuinely doesn’t know what to do, in shock as he watches the girl being beaten up. When he snaps out of it, he grabs your hand and pulls you back, flinches a bit when you give him a pissed off glare before your facial expression eases up. Tobio doesn’t know what else to say besides that you two should go now, warning the girl before leaving with you that she should keep quiet about it. He’s sort of in a daze for the next few hours as he still tries to process what he just saw since this is a side of you he didn’t know before.

Shōyō Hinata

☀️Hinata is completely overwhelmed when a girl actually starts flirting with him. That is once he actually realizes that she’s being serious with him. He’s not dumb, just really dense and initially he’s a bit flattered by the comments. The moment the girl actually stays and is proving herself to be extremely persistent is the moment where Hinata grows uncomfortable. He keeps on telling her to please leave him alone and that he has a lover but she doesn’t listen and that’s when he doesn’t know what to do. He’s trying to escape at this point and when he sees you, he quickly dashed past the girl to you.

☀️You on the other hand storm past him and confuse the orange-haired boy at first before he sees you kicking the girl harshly, bringing her down into her knees where you continue your attacks. Hinata is the type to idealize his darling a lot so he’s shocked to see them being so violent, even a bit frightened at first. He’s just standing there for a while and at one point averts his eyes a bit since he isn’t the biggest fan of violence. He’s completely overwhelmed once again and for that he doesn’t do anything until you deem it enough, threaten the girl to better never get near your boyfriend again before you turn around to Shōyō, smiling sweetly. He looks at you with different eyes afterwards, after he’s come to terms with what he saw. It isn’t bad though as he starts seeing you as a really strong person someone shouldn’t mess with.

Tadashi Yamaguchi

💕Yamaguchi is a loyal soul and the moment he notices what the girl is trying to do, he tries to avoid her, clearly uncomfortable with her actions. He’s incredibly awkward, body pose stiff as he tries to somehow escape her persistent attempts to flirt with him. Yamaguchi is trying to be polite though as he tells her over and over again that he’s already taken and happy, doesn’t know what else to do. He’s also terrified that you might walk in, is constantly looking around and when he sees you storming to him, his heart drops a bit. Oh god, are you assuming something? No, instead you nearly throw the girl away from him, getting even more triggered when you see just how nervous she’s made Tadashi.

💕The boy in question has a small story of somewhat joining Tsukishima’s rude comments but besides that he’s never been a fan of violence or bullying, mainly because he was bullied in his past too. So he’s terrified when he sees this new side of his darling, somewhat frightened to initially step in before he gains the courage to do so. He pleads you to stop since you’ve probably gone too far now, worried that the girl might go to the police although she certainly looks too frightened of you as she runs away. He’s somewhat uncertain for the rest of the day. His love is still there of course but it’s the first time he saw you acting so severely. Tadashi will at one point talk with you about it since it makes him a bit uncomfortable and also very concerned since you might be arrested for your actions.

Tōru Oikawa

👑For Tōru this is a daily thing, getting being flirted with. Forming an obsession and getting together with his obsession has changed things for him though. Whilst he’s initially still polite, there’s a hidden glint of annoyance and even disgust in his eyes, not to mention that his smile isn’t sincere. Daring to continue though and implying that this girl thinks she’s better than his darling though sets him off slightly, his eyes narrowing and causing him to indirectly start humiliating the girl whilst simultaneously gushing about what he loves so much about his love. He’s already putting her down and his darling takes this to the physical level.

👑Obviously Oikawa is initially frightened a bit but when he realizes that you’re doing it because someone was trying to take him away from you, there’s a twisted feeling of happiness and satisfaction inside of him. He’d go very far if someone would try to take you away from him and there’s elation knowing that you’d do the same. He lets his darling go on for a while, a grin on his face that has the girl’s stomach churning as she sees the unparalleled sickening obsession inside his brown orbs. He eventually suggests to you that you should stop and that he’s sure that the girl has learned her lesson, tells her with a voice laced with poison that she would better keep quiet about it. He’d be the type of Yandere who would appreciate a darling showing similar tendencies as he does so he really won’t scold you unless you’re not careful enough and might get in troubles for your actions. He’ll help you though, he’s your partner in crime.

Keiji Akaashi

🍁Akaashi deals with things more calmly than some other guys and if someone gives him a compliment, he normally just quietly accepts it. He always clarifies though that he is taken and usually people respect that instantly. Meeting this one girl though who still bothers him despite knowing that he’s taken isn’t something he witnesses every day. Akaashi can’t help but think that the girl is quite a bit disrespectful though by not accepting his boundaries nor accepting it that he is already in a happy relationship and doesn’t want to do anything with her. He’s not carefully choosing his words though, he’s blunt and tells her what she thinks, sadly without much of a result which slowly tests even his patience.

🍁Your entrance certainly changes things though as you kick the girl harshly to the ground, a dangerous look on your face as you’re about to launch at her again. Only for Akaashi to react instantly and stop you. He can read from the look on your face that you plan to hurt her but deems it as unnecessary and also dangerous since someone might hear you. Causing a scene would be quite troublesome and it’s better to stop you now before you seriously hurt the girl instead of when she had proof that you attacked and hurt her. Luckily he knows what to say to calm you down enough so that you go with him and he consults you later on about your actions. He’s going to scold you, warn you to not let your temper get the better of you in such a way since it will end in problems for you.

Kenma Kozume

🐱Kenma is introverted as it is, you two specifically chose a place where not too many people would be to enjoy a date together yet luck doesn’t seem to be on his side today. He knows what the girl’s intentions are instantly when she starts flirting with him and calling him endearing names which only make him want to disappear. He makes himself small, doesn’t look at her or pay attention to her as he hopes that she’ll leave if he ignores her. Sadly that only seems to fuel her more and by now he’s panicking quite a bit, doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do in such a situation. His darling comes to rescue him though, more or less at least.

🐱The first wave of relief is quickly replaced by shock and a good scare when you start punching and hitting the girl though for daring to flirt with your boyfriend and making him so uncomfortable in the process. Meanwhile Kenma is looking around him in panic, afraid someone might see you and cause a scene. So he stops you, a churning feeling in his stomach whilst asking you if you two can just leave since he has lost all interest and excitement for the date planned today. He mumbles something to the girl before he leaves, most likely a threat to not report his darling. He’s hesitating a bit to bring this up for a lack of even knowing how, eventually you two will have to talk about it. He’s rational enough to know that you could be brought to jail for such behavior and therefore he asks you if you could try to control that side of yours since it stresses him to think that you might beat someone again. He’ll just stay more inside so that you won’t have to hurt anyone.

Satori Tendou

❤️Satori is definitely not used to being flirted with, he’s far more used to be called a weirdo or creepy or all sorts of rude stuff behind his back. He’s used to it by now though, he only cares about what his darling thinks about him. Due to the lack of genuine praise, he’s completely overwhelmed when he’s one day being flirted with. He doesn’t even believe that the girl means him until she speaks to him directly. What is at first awkwardness and telling her that he’s happily together with someone already turns into sudden anger when she still continues, suggests that he can cheat even which triggers him. The girl certainly gets startled when she notices that Tendou’s previously hunched form is now towering over her with a creepy glimmer in his eyes.

❤️If that isn’t already scary enough, your reaction certainly is and the first kick you deliver causes Tendou to flinch as he wasn’t expecting this. He’s watching you for a few seconds with a mix of shock and, to his own slight shame, giddiness since you’re fighting for him in a way, defending what you see as yours. He snaps out of it though and stops you before you can cause too much damage, leans down to the girl and whispers to her that she shouldn’t tell anyone about this for her own well-being. He’s clingier after as the experience of being flirted with in such a way is alienating for him. He’ll probably reprimand you mildly to be more careful but can’t go harsher since he secretly liked it a bit too.

Tsutomu Goshiki

🌟Goshiki enjoys compliments. He enjoys them the most from his darling though and is constantly trying to impress them and being praised. When someone compliments him besides his darling, he feels proud of himself too and initially the flirting feeds into his ego as Goshiki isn’t aware of the true intention yet. He just thinks that he wants to tell you that he was just complimented as soon as you come back, gets surprised when the girl stays though and continues. The confusion soon turns into shock and a bit panic as he finally understands what she wants and quickly tells her off in an urgent tone that he already has a partner and wants her to leave. He won’t risk you getting any wrong ideas.

🌟To the poor luck for the girl you return in that moment and even Tsutomu sees the dark look on your face, he starts spitting apologies before he’s silenced by your sudden violent attack on the girl. His brain doesn’t even fully register the visual information he realizes since he’s in a state of shock before it finally clicks in his mind. Anxiety is heating up his body as he starts getting paranoid that someone might watch, pulls you back without trying to get hurt himself and asks you in a pleasing tone if you can stop and leave with him. At first hesitant, he feels later on a tiny bit flattered when he thinks it through and realizes that you’ve started fighting so aggressively for him. It doesn’t stop him from developing a frightened reverence for you.

Kita Shinsuke

☁️Shinsuke is also more polite, even in the face of being confronted with such a persistent girl who thinks that she can flirt with him even if she knows that he’s already in a relationship. Kita knows immediately where this will be going when she approaches him, he can read the look on her face all too well. He might be mildly taken aback when she brushes off his statement that he already has a partner and loves them very much but he will stay collected. She certainly isn’t earning any of his respect though since it’s in his eyes rather rude and insensitive what she’s trying to do now. He’s not aggressive, just really cold and honest with his opinion about her and that is what stuns the girl so much, he makes it obvious that he’s not interested nor really impressed in such a honest and polite way that it’s almost humiliating again.

☁️Kita is also bound to react very fast when your fist connects the first time with the girl’s cheek and knocks her off her feet. He doesn’t appreciate violence and avoids it as much as he can and is already admonishing his darling for their action but packages his words well enough to not agitate them more. He’ll try to bring you to apologize to the girl since this level of aggression was a bit too much and leaves with you shortly after. He’s going to sit down with you and force you through a longer discussion where he counts down all the possible troubles this could have caused you, tells you that he wants you to control your temper better or that otherwise he might not be able to take you so carefree outside.

[ppushable]

of course we'll be okay

jean kirschtein x fem reader / longfic / chapter wc: 10 167

1 - resigned delusion

masterlist

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I can't remember my name. Civilization is wiped and the future is bleak. The zombies are here.

But it's not all that bad. It's a little selfish to think like this, I know, but I can't seem to have it any other way.

My name isn't a big deal. As for the memories, well, I've made better ones, with people I really care about, and who I really hope care about me, too. And how can you expect me to care about a society I don't even remember, or a future I've never imagined? Okay, now that was selfish.

---

No matter how terrible things may seem, I always end up reminiscing. Nostalgic for the days when I lived so freely, when my only care was if I would come home alive. When I was swarmed by people who really, really cared about me.

When the two of us were stuck to each other, inseparable, through hell and back.

If I could make one wish, it wouldn't be to change the past, but to have never experienced it at all.

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ao3 tags:

Zombie Apocalypse / Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse / Slow Burn / Slow To Update / mc is awkward as hell / at first / no y/n / POV First Person / im sorry if this is a mess / somewhat canon compliant / Sad Ending / if we ever get there / Reader-Insert / Angst / no beta author is friendless and hesitant / Fluff / Coming of Age / Blood and Gore / Zombies / Modern Era / Nonbinary Hange Zoë / Amnesia / Amnesiac Reader / Character Development / Cross-Posted on Wattpad / Enemies to Lovers / Enemies to Friends to Lovers / Jean Kirstein Being An Asshole / morally grey zeke yeager / Other Additional Tags to Be Added / side marco bott/reader / only in the beginning rlly / Forced Pregnancy

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i've been thinking about writing this for a really, really long time. so i began. and then i started thinking about posting it. there's not much more to say without full-on rambling, but i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoy writing it. at least, i hope i didn't waste your fanfiction time. there are so many amazing stories out there that i took inspiration from. (the last of us is not one of them)

some things to note;

there will be violence/gore/injuries

and angst

and fluff

and dumbass shenanigans

the story might be long and convoluted because i'm not too sure what i'm doing

warnings will be added before the gnarly chapters

things are subject to change! mostly the tags, but nothing too major.

without further ado ♥

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Above hangs an unfamiliar ceiling, corporate drop tiles, harsh light cutting hard shadows on its rigid surface.

“Hello, Ostrich!” That sharp voice cuts a line straight through my ears. “How are you?”

The words that come out of me are slurred, half-baked. “Good, how about you?”

“You’ve slept in. The school bus left twenty minutes ago.”

“What?” The heels of my palms sink into the foamy mattress as I push myself up and a nasty static builds in my head. 

“That sure got you up, eh?”

Green and white checkers line the laminate floor below, blinding white sunshine bouncing off its waxed and perfect surface into my fresh eye. Even as I try to blink away the ensuing dark blue blotch, the squares persist in the corners of my vision. 

That horrendous thing was there yesterday, too. 

Yesterday? What was I doing yesterday? I was here, wasn’t I, in the same room with the same pockmarked ceiling and the same sun and the same green and white. In that little instance in time in this room, in this body, under these blankets, my entire life happened. Before yesterday, there was nothing. 

Nothing? What am I talking about?

The person at my side raises a mushroom into a light beam. Motes of dust dance around the fungus, giving it a heavenly quality despite its globby and wrinkled appearance. “Look at this. You don’t think it’s poisonous, do you?”

“Professor Hange.” 

“Maybe I should feed it to, uh.” Their grip on the spout loosens and it falls with a pitter-patter. The face behind comes into focus: squarish goggles, hawkish nose, elastic mouth. “What did you just say?”

I rest a hand against my face at the sacrifice of stability. “Professor—”

Hange shoots up with a hard clatter as the milk crates they sat on are knocked over. “Shut up! Did you just— you— I thought—” They give up on words. “No!” And out comes a deep laugh. “No way!” 

They scramble to the other side of the room — it only takes a few steps — to a folding table pressed against the wall, plucking out a pen and paper with a crisp flourish. 

A knock comes from the open doorway at the foot of my bed, catching both of our attentions — it’s a middle-aged woman holding a stack of blankets. We lock eyes and she smiles, a movement that squishes the corner of her eyes into pleasantly deep wrinkles. Something compels me to return the gesture — and I will, probably, when the room stops tilting. She speaks. “Everything okay here? I heard something fall.” 

Hange doesn’t allow a huff of breathing room. “She remembered! Me!”

Her brows shoot up. “Really?” And the smile deepens. “See, I knew it was only a matter of time—” her gaze wanders to the paper— “what is that?”

Hange drums the notes with their fingertips, the sound strangely calming, like rain against a car window or grease simmering on a quiet night. “Paper.”

“For what?”

“Scientific observation.”

“No.”

The professor’s body deflates like a wilting flower and makes a sound like one, too, if wilting flowers could speak. “But I need to observe.”

Instead of thoughts, there lives a school of deep-sea fish in my head — too slippery to snag, pin down, and comprehend, but pretty to skim over and lose concentration. Every once in a while there’s a flash as one fleetingly separates from the herd, only to merge once more into the flickering storm, into itself. Pretty. The air swirls with nature’s sparkles. 

Where am I? Who am I? Why am I sitting on a bed, watching these two bicker? Why am I even on a bed at all? Where’s my mother? 

“Professor, from what I’ve heard, she just woke up. Couldn’t it wait a bit? At least make a decent first impression!”

“But it’s already—”

“Professor Hange Zoe! As a functional, responsible adult you should know—”

“Who said I was responsible? Yesterday I—”

“Um!”

The yammering terminates as both sources turn toward the origin of the disruption, me. What the hell am I thinking? “Sorry.” Sitting up is hard, especially when you’re sweating bullets in front of a crowd. I lean against the headboard. “Where am I?”

They share a glance, the new arrival’s notably pointed. “I’m trusting you with this.”

Hange beams. “Alright. Let’s get started with introductions, then.” With fierce velocity, their hand smacks their hollow chest (crumpling the paper within). “As you know, my name is Hange Zoe! I used to be a professor, but now I’m head of research. I believe we met yesterday, though I’m not sure how much of it you remember.” It whips to the side. “This lovely lady is Mirabel. She’s… she helps clean up sometimes.”

Said person carefully purses her lips. 

“To answer your question, we’re in a bathroom. Not just any bathroom! A bathroom of Shiganshina mall, or what we like to call, Shiganshina branch. Well, it’s more of an outpost than anything else, but it’s perfectly safe! You’re always welcome to leave, of course, but I personally don’t recommend it.” The last few words are muttered as an aside. 

“What?”

They continue. “By the way, there’s been a new virus going around.”

Covid?

Hange pulls their goggles into forehead territory. I’ve never seen their eyes before. “It’s probably not what you’re thinking — this virus I speak of is more contagious and much more deadly than anything we’re seen before. In fact, the whole world was shut down because of it, and nobody knows how! Rather, nobody’s able to think that hard anymore.” With a whirl, they sift through a pile of paper on the table. “This new virus… is so cool!” And they plop a blinding-white sheet on my lap. “So exciting!”

It’s a human diagram, complete with label lines and scribbled descriptions. If I focus, I can make out the words…

“It’s not something you wanna contract. A lot of us, firsthand, have seen the effects of it.”

When I try to flip the paper, it splits into two. There’s two pages. This one has the same person, but looks as if he was put through a meat grinder. 

“The effect of zombification.”

The single eye of the diagram stare at me. “Did you draw this?”

“No, it was my associate. Quite talented, isn’t— wait, that’s not the important part. Did you hear the part when I said ‘zombification?’ Like, as in zombies?” 

“Zombies?” Disappointingly, there’s no more pages. “I didn’t know they were real.” The zombie’s torn-up skin is beautifully shaded, hair clotted, teeth stained, eyes glassy, backbone knotted and humped and jutting into different directions. It’s handsome, even, in the same way an antique end table or fantastical map might.

From the background, Mirabel: “Maybe you shouldn’t have started with the virus thing.”

“You’re right… I reckon I have something that’ll jog the memory. Wait here.”

She clucks like a hen and then turns to me. “Are you all right, dear?”

The corner of the page is crimped, and the world comes back to me: heat under the blanket, tartness in my mouth, a tang of pain where my spine meets wood. “Ye– yes, ma’am.”

“You’re not cold, are you? Or hungry?”

“No.”

“Thirsty?”

“No, thank you.”

“Are you hurt?”

Slow. “I feel slow. Sorry, I’m not really sure if I’m saying anything that makes sense.”

“You’re only just waking up.” Warmth lands on my arm — her hand snuck up on me while I focussed on her face. “You— you’ve been in a bit of a coma of sorts for a while. Give it time, dear.”

“What are those blankets for?”

Mirabel looks taken aback and shifts the pile of blankets in her opposite arm around her body. “These ones?” As if there’s another stack of linens laying around that I’m referring to. “They’re for the children. Well, I suppose they wouldn’t be children to you.” A small, rolling chuckle. “They’re all around your age, including my son.”

“Aren’t you a bit young to be a mother?” 

“Ha!” she chortles, landing a side eye. “Charming little one, aren’t you? Ha!”

I half-shrug, awkward. I don’t know why I said that. “What’s he like? Your son.”

She puffs out her nose and shakes her head. “He can test my patience sometimes, that brat. You wouldn’t know it when you see him, but he used to be the sweetest thing.” She places the blankets on the bed, burrows into her back pocket — she’s wearing skinny jeans — and pulls out a sticky-looking wallet. She fiddles with it until a tongue of photo sleeves waterfall out like something out of a cartoon and points to the top one.

It’s Mirabel — younger Mirabel — seated with a hay-haired toddler with a jelly bean face and a beam stretching ear to ear. “His favourite food is veggie omelet.” She eases into a smile as well, as if the mere sight of the image sucks her back to that day a decade or so ago. 

I wonder who took the photo. “Cute.” Because what else am I supposed to say?

Her eyes flick from the wallet to my face. “I’m glad you think so, but there’s a reason he’s never had a girlfriend.”

“What?”

“What?”

Down the column of photos is another rendition of her son, evidently a more recent one, taken in his adolescence: middle-parted hair affixed with an illegal amount of gel, a petulant leer, smug lips a hair-length away from curling into a bonafide shit-eating smirk. “I meant his, uh, kid picture.”

“Of course, dear.” 

For the first time, I feel awake. 

Mirabel lets free a dainty laugh and makes herself at home on my bed. “Oh, I’m just teasing you. Don’t look so frightened! You’re like a fish.”

I blink away the stinging in my eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Hm.” The giggle subsides into a curve of the lips. “You’re sweet. I never really got the chance to properly speak to you in the past, but now I can see why Hange takes such a liking to you.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yes,” she responds, but her head tilts to the side a bit like she’s confused, or about to drop a bomb. “I… do believe you’ll see a great deal of things today, things you might not understand at first, but I want you to remember. Be kind to yourself, and be kind to others. Especially the children. Please be kind to them.”

Where did that come from? Against my better judgment, I want to ask.

“Hange debuts!”

Mirabel kind of falls into herself and the androgynous terror returns, fist clenched and waving like a weapon. “Catch!” And it splays open.

A small something glimmers in midair before manifesting as a sharp pain on my collarbone. “Ow!”

“I told you to catch.”

The thing is hard, and made a thunk when it hit. One hand reaches to rub the surely future bruise as the other rummages through the folds, searching. The professor plops on the other side of the bed as my finger finally catches and raises the object: a small metal plate swinging off a beaded chain. “A dog tag?”

Sinking onto their elbow, Hange beams. “You like it?” Yeah, just make yourself at home.

“It’s pretty cool.”

“I was expecting a bigger reaction.”

The plate slowly rotates on its string, revealing engraved letters. 

0009

MARLEY

– – – 

The bottom line’s missing.

“Do you remember this?” Hange leans forward, teetering dangerously on their arm. 

“Am I supposed to?”

“Interesting.” They pull out a pad and pen from nowhere, letting their chin hit the mattress, and jots down the word “Interesting.”

“Interesting?” I echo.

“It was on your neck when we found you.” They draw an imaginary line around their neck.

I look at the silver-grey pendant again, this time through a film of scrutiny as if focussing harder can unlock some ancient hidden memory. It doesn’t.

“Can I ask questions now?” Hange whines. 

Mirabel’s eyes roll, then rest on mine. “What do you think?”

“Me?” She nods. “I don’t see a problem w—”

“Great!” They heave ramrod straight and flip to a new page in the notepad. “For starters, tell us your name.”

My jaw unhinges. Hange looks on, wide-eyed, awaiting an answer that will never come. My name, my name. Just answer this simple question. Tell them your name.

“I can’t.”

The floodgates are open now. I’m scrambling for even an iota of memory that belongs to myself, that defines me, that makes me my own person, but there’s nothing there. It’s like trying to see something that’s just too far away to see, or too small to focus on, something that I can touch but never, never feel. It’s not fair, because those memories belong to me. I can feel them. They’re right there! But the more I reach, the closer I’ll get. Isn’t that right?

What’s the last thing I can remember? The sad-looking mushroom? No, before that. Hange, shoving pebbles in their mouth? No, that happened yesterday. Mirabel with worry on her mouth and shaking my shoulder? No, that’s now. 

“Yo! Little amnesiac?”

“Hello? Are you okay?”

And just like that, I’m back. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t do it.”

She smiles, but the concern is still there. “It’s okay, dear, don’t force it. Nobody is angry. It will come in time.”

Hange is right beside her. “Okay, but can you force it a teeny bit? Umph.” Mirabel elbows them hard. “Okay, fine, next question.” They tap their temple, crimping strands of shaggy, brown hair. “Now, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Yesterday — again, yesterday! — I was awakened as Hange barged in with a small velvet sack and spilled its little circular contents onto the green and white. Before that, I was looking at the ceiling, and before that, my eyes were closed. Before that… 

“I don’t know. Yesterday, my eyes were closed, and then I was looking at the ceiling, and then you came in, Professor, and spilled some rocks on the ground, and put them in your mouth. Before that, though, I can’t—” My hand runs up my cheek, onto my forehead, fingers weaving through strands of hair as if trying to scoop the brain encased within. “There’s nothing.” My other hand comes up too, and they squeeze. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

They fall silent. “Do you want to hear a story, Ostrich?”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Good question,” they smirk, pulling their goggles back on. Rising to their feet (and making that side of the bed spring up), they clasp their hands in the crook of their back, straightening with newfound importance.

“Long ago—” Mirabel cringes and stands up as well— “there existed a hotel named the Ostrich owned by one John Jarman and his wife, Mary. This hotel was very, very special, as it was the site of over sixty murders — notably, murders of very rich people. These killings were conducted by none other than the Jarmans themselves. 

“When they got a rich visitor, Sir Jarman would call out to his lady.” Their voice reaches a comical low. “‘Honey, there’s a fat pig here if ya want one.’ To which his wife would reply—” now their voice turns up several octaves— “‘Okay, honey, just put it in the sty till morrow!’ 

“So they’d butter the guest up and put him in a special room right above the kitchen. And when all was quiet in the night… Bam! The floor opened up, the bed tilted backwards, and he’d be dropped in a vat of boiling oil. Have you ever had chicharrones? After that, the corpse was stripped of anything valuable and thrown into a river. And by the morning, it was like he was never even there. 

“But one day the Jarmans made a fatal mistake — their eyes grew bigger than their brains. For they tried to go after a particularly popular and wealthy man and got caught when people noticed his horse wandering around.” Curling their lip in… scorn? They continue. “Do you know why I named you after this hotel?”

I’m full of dead, fried rich people? “Why?”

They lightly tap one of their lenses. “Because John and Mary are such boring names.”

“You would have named me John?”

Their hands fly to their hips. “Well, with that attitude, little missy, I just might!”

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

The two of them deemed my condition — both mental and physical — up to par to go out into the big, wide world. 

Shiganshina is a hollowed-out shopping mall. Brightness radiates in from the paned ceiling and bounces off the white walls, keeping the palace bright and warm — a nice contrast to the cooler temperatures of dying winter. 

The mystery hallway leads into a walkway that wraps around the internal perimeter of the building’s second story, the occasional bridge connecting opposite pathways above the first floor way below. Green and white still dominate the catwalk here with only the pattern switching from checkerboard to big white squares with tiny green diamonds at every corner. Anything else would be asking too much, I guess.

Hange’s gait is easy. Mirabel’s steps are more forward and practiced. A few people pass by, but for the most part, this place is barren. Not one individual is spared from Hange’s greetings. 

“Abel!” Our procession halts as Hange locates their next victim. “You’re looking nice and groomed today. What is it, a new oil or something? How are you?” They hold out a hand in greeting.

Abel wears thick, strapped glasses over his short, blond hair. He rubs the side of his index finger along the nice and groomed scruff on his jaw. “Very well, thanks.”

“It’s a beautiful afternoon, isn’t it? The sun’s—”

“Very nice.”

“Ah.”

Abel gets right down to business. “So did you get the field notes from—”

Someone across the abyss falls with a yelp, dropping what sounds to be several dozen metal pipes. The tings echo and take too long to dissipate, but the two keep talking.

If I don’t find out what my name is, I’ll be Ostrich forever. I let my gaze wander. If anything, this place is well taken care of — it doesn’t smell terrible, the floor and walls are spotless, and the people seem alright. The person in charge of cleaning here is doing a great job — even the glass-paneled railings are crystal clear. 

Most of the stores here are occupied by random pieces of junk, but a few have their large display windows blocked out in some way or another. The one closest to me is covered by a blanket depicting some sort of house. 

Wait, not a blanket. Someone actually took the time to paint this window from the inside. 

A cabin in a field backed by a rocky cliff, chopped logs littering the area before it. The chipped (and in some places, peeling) planks holding the structure together are of the same material as a wide picnic table near the scattered logs, adorned with the various foods of the forest. There isn’t anything particularly special about the subject — the grass rolls, the apples shine, and the windows hint at nothing. But it’s empty, as if the residents just left or disappeared or vanished. As if something very, very wrong is happening. There is a stranger looking out from the window. It moves. 

Me. Me? It’s me. Oh, who is that?

“Ostrich?”

Hange bears a look of mild concern which is quickly wiped out by their usual grin. “I’ve got some business here with Abel, so you guys’ll have to continue on without me. Right, Abel?” He grunts. He’s probably the type to hide in a dark, moist corner in perpetual squat. “Try not to miss dear old Hange too much.”

Mirabel beckons me with her head. “We’ll do our best. Right?”

“Yeah.” You’re overthinking this, Ostrich. It’s just a nice glass painting. We say our goodbyes.

Constant motion and colour keep my concentration hostage on our trek. It’s fun to peek into the open windows to see piles of empty water jugs or folding chairs or construction equipment, or to read the vivid signs above them to see what could have been. A few people still litter the area, to whom Mirabel nods or says a small greeting to. It’s quiet. 

“Almost there.” 

I step a little longer to catch up to the woman as she points with her chin. She loves using her head.

“You see it?”

In a darker corner lives a store with Spencer’s graffitied on the half-drawn garage door that serves as its entrance. Brick makes up the walls. Its single, large display window hints at nothing, obscured by… clothes?

“We’re not going in there, are we?”

The place is silent. Mirabel raps her knuckles on the door before forcing it up with a metallic squeal. “Hello?” She continues inside. I trail behind.

Like the surrounding area, the interior is dim, with the far reaches of the narrow room fading to black. Though the store seems to have been emptied of its original merchandise (thankfully), it’s far from empty: soft contours of cloth line the floor, trinkets lay askew and scattered, and food wrappers glisten in small clumps. A wet dog smell permeates through every pore and crevice of my body — it’s either poorly ventilated or contains something that gives off enough scent to cancel out any fresh air.

A large platform against the back and right walls spans nearly the entire area, hanging a few feet below the ceiling. Blankets spew out from beneath makeshift curtains tied to the exposed pipes above, effectively screening it. 

Lining the walls below the platform are wired bakers’ racks, piled with clothing and miscellanea. 

It’s lived in.

“Amazing, hmm?” Aluminum screeches as Mirabel pushes and knocks over a few cans with her foot to make space for the blankets. “How quickly a dozen or so adolescents can tear through a clean room! We haven’t sent any cleaners lately in hopes they’ll do it themselves — ha! — but you can see how well that’s going. Even the dorms back in Trost are cleaner.”

Cleaners? Trost? “Adolescents?” Fearing attack, I don’t turn away from the shadowed jungle. “This is where they all live?”

“For now, yes. And it’s where you’ll be staying, as well.” Her footsteps grow a bit louder as she nears. “It seems everyone’s out right now.”

My breaths grow shorter on their own. Maybe because of the smell. “I’m staying here?” 

“Are you coming along, Ostrich?” Looks like she didn’t hear. 

“Actually, can I stay here?”

“Really?” She’s shocked. “Okay, well if you ever need help, ask anyone down in the kitchens. They’re all very nice, I assure you. I’ll be making my rounds, so I won’t be staying down there for long.”

I risk a glance and little wave at Mirabel’s silhouette, prompting her to join the black mass that is the wall. I’m not sure what to feel.

Luckily, I manage to find some sort of electric lamp. Click. A rough circle of light surrounds me, exemplifying the absolute filth of this place.

I’m staying here? As much as I try, I can’t squeeze an ounce of emotion out. It’s not that I don’t care, right? It’s just that I don’t know anything better than this. I don’t remember a better time. Why am I even here? I should have gone with Mirabel. 

Of all the people I can be, I have to be a stupid one.

Maybe I should start cleaning. 

A few ungainly steps later and I’m in the hallway. I try not to stare down the next person walking down the hall as they pass. “Excuse— excuse me.” I wave.

It’s a woman with choppy copper hair. She seems weirdly happy as she points toward the requested cleaning supplies before making her way off to wherever. I don’t step on a single green diamond on my way there.

JANITORIAL ROOM

Authorized Personnel Only

It has a square, wired window too high up for me to peek inside and a door handle — not knob — which needs to be messed with a little before opening. I step in and let the door whoosh and click shut behind me.

“Nobody taught you to knock, brat? What the hell do you want?”

Every organ in my body purges as the strange little man looks up from whatever he was doing. Somehow, my voice finds me. “Clean.”

He rests his elbows on the mini table before him, the resulting wobble nearly knocking over the spray bottle and various chemicals on top. Light from the door’s window frames his face perfectly, sliced up by the cable crisscrossing its inner surface. “Speak up, or don’t bother wasting my time.”

What’s with this guy? Inching my hand to the knob — not handle — behind me, I clear my thought process and focus on the space between his steel-sharp eyes. “I would like to clean, sir. The dorms, that is. I’m here for cleaning supplies. That’s all. Sir.” Please don’t bash my head in with a spray bottle. 

“Hm.” He narrows his eyes. “New?”

New? Oh, he’s talking about me! “Yes. Sir.”

“Come here.”

What choice do I have?

He rises to his full, impressive height as I approach. I don’t need to see him to feel the force of his demands, just watch my toes. “I don’t want to see a single speck. All beds should be made, blankets should be tucked, no mop streaks, and so help me if there are any wall stains. Understood?” 

“Yessir.” Please, somebody let me out of here. 

His arm flourishes to the impressive collection of cleaning supplies on the wall. “Take what you need.”

“Thank you, sir.” If that arm even clipped me… I slink around his throne, somehow still feeling his stare when he’s turned the other way. Broom and dustpan, disposable gloves, a few garbage bags, cleaning spray—

“That won’t do.” Frozen in a squat, I listen helplessly as his startlingly heavy footsteps stop inches behind me. Plastic crinkles in the dark as the man snatches something near my ear. “You need thick gloves, that thin shit won’t do. And here.” Somewhere near the end of the room is a clatter and a thump. “Nobody worth their weight forgets the bucket. And—” another thump— “Scrub Daddy. Unless you want to scrub the grime with your teeth?”

Scrub Daddy? Nothing comes out when I open my mouth, so I force-clear my throat. “No, sir.” The bucket is shoved into my arms — I barely catch it in time — as he breezes past, taking up his throne once more. “Thank you, sir,” I say to the air.

“One last thing,” he juts as I clear his desk, making my cells disintegrate for a moment. A mystery object lands in the bucket.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Out.”

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

I start by picking up every non-garbage item (as far as I can tell) and tossing them on the big shelf by the window, then bagging the actual garbage with the gloves. The broom takes care of the dust and dirt between the hardwood and under the collection of bakers’ racks — it puffs up thick, so I’m eternally grateful to the janitor for the last-minute bandana mask. At least, it’s what I think the white cloth is for. If it’s a loincloth or something I just might hurl myself to floor one. But why would he give me a loincloth?

Then comes the task of cleaning the platform. This entails lobbing up the lantern and praying it won’t break, the incredibly perilous trip up on a wobbly ladder which will probably tip or break or be the catalyst to the end of my short life, pushing out an absolute jungle of futons, sleeping bags, quilts, pillows, and other horrifying objects, and actually falling off but landing safely but shaken onto the teeming pile. I push it all out, onto a pre-cleaned portion of the hall. 

Finding no water anywhere, I manage to flag down another passerby who directs me to some sort of pulley system that brings up tubfuls of water. It also seems to mutter and sing. Strange. I lug one in, fill the bucket, scrub the walls until I run out, and repeat. I do this again with the mop on the floor, making sure to get rid of any streaks. 

My whole body burns but still comes the reassembly process. Using the mop handle, I beat the devils out of the pile in the hallway before lugging everything back up on a borrowed stepladder. Everything’s out of order — that’s someone else’s problem.

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

At some point Hange checks in and drags me out to the now-dark mall. I didn’t even notice the room darkening as I worked. It was strangely therapeutic. 

It’s different at night. The whole place would be in black if not for the periodic solar lights stuck to the walls, ceilings, and support beams, basking us in yellow and white. 

“I don’t know how, but you did it!” Their glee is evident as we snake through the now-empty platform, hands clasped, feet pounding polished concrete. “Levi’ll love it. The cadets’ll love it! Hell, maybe we can even squeeze a  ‘good job’ outta the Comm– never mind, that’s pushing it. Whatever! We’re almost there.”

“Professor, I left the supplies—” 

“Shut! We’re here.”

“But—”  

My arm wrenches to the side, followed by my body, as the leader shoulders through an emergency exit. My back burns. A film of darkness lays over my eyes, the plopping of our steps more prominent than ever. Another second and my legs will give out.

Hange pushes through another door, this one requiring a little more strength. Moonlight. The earth, sparse and grassy, far below. Something sharp biting through my slipper socks and cold breezing in through the leg holes of my dusty pyjama bottoms. Reflexively, I suck in a stabbing, frosty lungful of air that billows out in a big puff, steam engine style. The smoke clears to reveal two silhouettes against the cloudy sky.

“Surprise, you two!” The professor claps the painful divet between my shoulder blades. “Meet our newest installment. You might know this one already.” They drive me forward, my lazy steps doing little to deter the action.

The two are easy to tell apart — one is a smiling, freckled unit and the other is glum and fluorescent-eyed. I would go blind if I stared too long (he’d pluck my eyes out). Both have dark hair and grow more menacing with each reluctant step.

Bright-eyes speaks first. “Professor Hange!”

“Woah, Professor!” the tall one exclaims almost simultaneously. “Isn’t it a bit cold for just pyjamas?”

“She’s fine.” Their head pops into view. “You’re fine, right? Levi will kill me if someone gets sick.”

Pushing my cold legs together, I nod. “It’s a beautiful day.”

“No way,” Tall chuckles, already undoing his coat. “It’s too cold.” The zips of his waterproof cloth don’t drown out his voice as he shrugs it off. “You’ll be needing this more than me.” He finally sheds the garment, handing it over. 

For me? “Thank you.” 

“No problem. I’m actually very weather resistant. You might be surprised.” He beams with the heat of a weighted quilt on a winter morning. Maybe I don’t really need this coat.

But a sudden chill sobers me and it’s on in an instant.

“What’s up with this?” the smaller one asks, waving in my general direction. 

Hange shrugs. “Started to remember. All good. Okay, I’m done here.” Hange half-stumbles back to their other foot that wedges the door open. “I’ll get back to business, then. See you, Ostrich.”

“See you,” I mutter. 

And with a screech, they’re gone.

Tall doesn’t waste a moment. “So, it’s Ostrich! It’s nice to finally see you walking around.”

Starry-eyes lowers himself to sit criss-cross, opting to stare into space through the metal grate railing. 

“Thanks, it’s… nice. Walking around and all.” What am I doing here.

With an amused breath, he tilts his head. “You don’t remember us, do you?”

Not meeting his eyes, I shake my head. 

He brings forth his big hand. “I’m Marco. My friend over here is Eren.”

He’s smiling again. Our hands meet — his is rough around the edges and warm, even the dark band around his finger, and I release it a bit too quickly. “Hi, Marco. Eren.” Something about this meeting kills me. 

“Alright, well, hey, sit down, Ostrich. You’re one of us, you know.” Marco plops down and taps a nearby cushion. “How are you feeling?”

I sit. It’s cold. “That’s a good question.”

“Yeah… I realize now it’s pretty dumb.” His freckles are all messed up as he scrunches up his nose. 

My focus switches between the far-away ground and the plaid cushion I’m on. “Yeah.” Then snaps back to Marco’s face. “Wait, no. I’m not saying your question was dumb, I’m just— it’s—”

His short laugh cuts me off. “Relax. You don't need to be nervous.”

“Okay.” This mouth of mine. It’s a death trap. 

Marco’s fingers pick at the spaces between the metal. “So, how are you liking Shiganshina so far?”

I rub the sleeves of the coat together. Zip, zip, zip. Why did he give this to me? “It’s nice. Hange is nice, the people are… nice. The view is nice from here.”

“You’re allowed to say bad stuff, too,” he pries half-jokingly. 

“I don’t like the dorms.”

“Ah, there we go.” He stretches backwards. “Yeah. Nobody does, really, but it’s the only room with heat. It’s liveable.”

Eren snorts, his first real contribution to the conversation. “Stop lying to yourself. Everyone hates it.”

“Okay, yeah, everyone hates it.”

Is now a good time to say that I cleaned them? I don’t know how to do it without sounding arrogant. Is it arrogant? It’s quiet now, but for how much longer? I should just step up and say it. It would make them happy. No, it wouldn’t. Yes, it would.

“Anyways,” Marco breezes, “how many of the others have you met?” 

“Others?” I respond dumbly.

“The other cadets. The other teenagers, if you will.”

Oh, the children. “I haven’t.”

“Then you’ll be meeting them all. Tonight!” He drums his fingertips on the metal. “Everyone’ll be back tonight, bar one guy. But I can introduce you to him myself.”

What. “How many people? I mean, if you don’t mind.” As if knowing can make tonight sound even less appealing. 

“Uh, ten? There’s me, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Eren-Mika-Armin…” With every entry, he puts up a finger. “Reiner and Bert, Ymir, Christa, and Annie. That’s, what…” He looks at his fingers, lost. 

Every name drags me down an inch or two. “Thirteen, including me.”

“Right. Wow, there’s a lot of people!” Marco puts his hands away and pauses, brownish eyes drilling into mine. “Hey, don’t be nervous. Everyone’s really nice, I promise. And we’ve all met you in the past.”

Again with that. It’s like everyone’s in on a secret inside joke that only I don’t know, except that inside joke is me. 

But he’s so very easy to trust, even though we’re strangers. As long as he’s there with me, it can’t be too bad… I squish into his coat and try a smile. “Okay.” You cheesy fucking bastard. Woah, potty mouth. 

He smiles too, and I don’t have to try anymore. “But I have to warn you, it can get a bit loud sometimes.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

Hands springing to life, he straightens to the point of tipping back. “You have no idea!”

Sensing Marco’s incoming story, my smile becomes toothy.

“Shut up!”

Like an anvil, Eren’s hushed yell pulverizes our talk. He points at something he’s looking at, prompting Marco to stand. I follow suit.

The balcony overlooks some sort of large garden with alternating lit and shadowed rows of ridged dirt, garden tools, and the rare green smudge that indicates growth. All is surrounded by a tall ring of trash composed of cars, construction fences, broken skids, metal railings, rocks, or anything, really, that can stand on its own and keep anyone or anything out. The pale dirt ends in grass and trees some way beyond the barrier. 

“Another one.” Marco squats to jot some ink onto paper.

“Another what?” An invisible chill runs through the area, making the leaves rustle and shift the dappled pattern of light and shade they cast. Nothing’s there. 

And then my shoulder and cheek are encased in warmth as Marco gets real close and aligns his line of vision with my own. “Right there.” I feel the voice more than I hear it. His pointing finger ends at a spot where dirt and grass meet. “See?”

Where’s he pointing? Marco’s close. Wait, where is he pointing? I’m about to ask again when a sudden movement ends my straying — a pale branch, creeping, wobbling forward from beneath the silvery blades. 

Hand.

Twiglike fingers drag and push into the dirt, joints bending backwards. The attached arm contracts, presumably dragging forward a body. Despite its horrendously bony characteristic — even from this second- or third-floor view, I can easily make out the double-beamed support of the forearm — it keeps scraping forward. Closer. Every inch pulls the blood down to my feet. 

“Third crawler tonight. Wonder what’s up with that.”

The person wears nothing. Something about the distance or lighting gives whatever skin isn’t torn up or filthied a washed-out hue.

“Maybe there’s a bear.”

The hand jerks forward again, disregarding rocks or twigs, shakily pulling the body into view. That is, the head and one side of the torso.

Where’s the rest? Why is nobody doing anything? Why can’t I? Doesn’t that thing need help? What does its skin feel like? How long? How long until it touches me?

“You wanna get the pager this time, Eren?”

“Yeah.” 

Foliage and deep red blood decorate the loops and sacs that bulge and trail out of the chest cavity, the surrounding ribs prominent and hanging by whatever holds ribs together. The creature shudders, loosing a few organs with a sickening swell. It persists.

Click-click. Click. “Drunk bastard’s asleep!” The statement is followed by a series of loud bangs that rattle our cage and resonate in my teeth. “God-fucking-damn it. Hannes. Wake up. Hannes!”

“Don’t, Eren. He’s pretty much out of commission anyways.” 

“No shit! Should I go down?”

“No rush.” With a final rattle, a clothed arm obscures my view. 

“Hey.” A pale blur which turns out to be a waving hand belonging to Eren catches my focus. “Your ears. Plug them, or something.”

Marco’s elbow clears the railing. He holds a lengthy rifle with its butt against his shoulder and his cheek along its length, a single saucer-wide eye trained on the target. 

I didn’t even notice he left my side. 

He hisses — in or out, I couldn’t tell — before the air blasts into pure noise. 

Sometime in the aftermath, my legs decide to sit me down. Marco (and, after a final glance into the forest, Eren) turns his attention towards me, his words completely lost to the high-pitched din but his actions clear as ever — reaching out as if to cuff my ears, shrinking back, looking sheepish. “Sorry,” he mouths. Once again, he points at the figure with something like pride. From this angle it’s apparent that its head is imploded; I prefer to stare at the shockingly good marksman with the sanest grin I can muster.

“Did you hear the part when I said ‘zombification?’ Like, as in zombies?”

No, this isn’t happening. I’m dreaming, that’s what. Of course. 

Granted, this feels all to real. The human brain is a marvel of nature, isn’t it? Can’t wait to wake up.

The two engage in strained conversation of flurrying hand movements and exaggerated pronunciation, resulting in Marco waving goodbye and going inside. The remaining pair of us sit together in the high-pitched eee until it dissipates into the non-silence of nighttime. 

“So.” Eren shuffles his feet closer to him, knees in his arms. “Can you hear now?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess it’s your first time seeing one.”

Seeing what? Say the word. “Yep.”

Skimming over the corpse, he wrings his hands. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

Eren worries his mouth as if sucking off some goo on his teeth, and suddenly blurts, “I hate it.”

Zombie. You’re imagining it, Ossie, tomorrow you’ll wake up in that room again and forget everything. “Hate what?”

“What do you think?” He waves at the mall. “This. And everything else. Those things. They ruined everything.” A telltale waver slips into his speech. “Everything we do is dictated by them. I hate it. I mean. Have we ever really had anything?” 

Like a long-winded siren, the boy’s volume gradually increases. Sirens mean danger. 

“Is it that bad?” 

Something snaps quietly. “We’re living like fucking livestock here, don’t you realize that? I thought your head’s better now, so why can’t you see that it’s not supposed to be okay? Our life is confined to these walls—” here he whips out his hand at the aforementioned wall, the motion rippling through his torso— “and the whole world outside is lost! Lost! Everything! They took everything from me! From us! And you’re just gonna accept that?”

Is he always like this? A walking time bomb? My body weight shifts forward as if to spring on my feet. “Eren—”

“No.” 

With the piling pressure his eyes grew from a smolder to a bonfire, ravenous in a forest of decay. 

But in the same way, it’s almost childlike. Was it the same sense of anger? Frustration? Invisibility? Innocence? It’s probably not that deep. “Yes?”

“You don’t remember it, so you wouldn’t understand.” He doesn’t try to hide his distaste. “But they’re not… supposed to be here. It’s— we are. It’s our world. You get it? They took it from us. Took our plans, our dreams. Our families.” Stiff-fisted and tight-jawed, he continued. “I hate them. They need to be eliminated. You get it? I’m…”

He gathers himself. 

“I’m gonna do it, Ostrich, myself or otherwise.” I slip into his eyes. “Every last one of them. I’m going to kill them all. Not sparing a single one… I’m gonna kill them all.” 

And I fall. “What's stopping you?” 

Those creatures with broken ribs and beautiful hair. Let him do as he pleases with them. It doesn't concern me. Soon I’ll wake up. I’ll wake up. 

He oozes into a more comfortable expression as the door bursts open behind me. “Alright, so the Hannes problem is taken care of,” Marco announces. “You should come inside, Ostrich, there’s someone I want you to meet. Actually, Eren, you should go, too. I’ll keep watch for a while.”

Someone to meet? 

Eren’s expression lapses into annoyance. “What happened to the two-person protocol?”

“It’ll be brief.”

“What’s it about again? Think you forgot to mention that part.” 

“You’ll see when you get there, he’s waiting just outside the inner door.”

Back to Eren. “Whatever.” He leans to one side as he gets up. “Let’s go.”

The returnee holds open the door, flashing a small smile as I cross. Cheeky bastard. 

I’m joking.

Eren holds open the second door behind him, flashing a small glance to make sure it doesn’t close on me. I mutter a quick thanks as we stand, seeing… 

Nothing. 

“There’s nobody here.” The boy sifts through his hair. “What the hell, Marco?”

The wall behind us booms thrice — I flinch — and yells, “Eren, is that you?”

At this, he brings up his other hand and drags them both down his face with a drawn-out groan. “What the hell, Marco?”

I nearly touch his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“Wait, who’s that?” the wall — rather, the person inside — hollers. “Eren, you’re sounding pretty feminent today.”

“Connie, what the hell are you doing in there?”

“Woah! He’s back!” The wall cackles. “So, uh, I need help.”

Marco, you cheeky bastard. 

With a sigh, Eren’s hands drop. “Ostrich, this is Connie. Consider yourself lucky you don’t remember his face.” His next words are forced through his teeth. “Connie. Introduce yourself.”

“Wait, it’s you, Ossie?” Something hard hits another hard thing. “Ow! Ossie, it’s me, Connie! Remember me? Handsome face, Greek physique? Connie?”

I smile at the flat surface. “Hi, Connie. Sorry, I don't remember you.”

“Aww.”

“Come out to introduce yourself,” Eren grunts, leaning against the wall. 

“Well, that’s the problem, señor. I can’t.”

“What?”

“I’m stuck.” 

“Just get out.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Cuz I’m stuck.” 

If looks could kill, the plaster would have a smoking hole with the wall inhabitant’s crisp body in the middle; intervening at this point just might save Connie’s life. 

“Uh, Er— uh. Let’s just get him out?” 

With a deep breath, he nods.

What am I supposed to do now? Eren looks on expectantly. “Connie.” It’s so weird, saying that name out loud. I hold up my fist as if to knock, but decide against it. “Can you move?”

“Yeah, if I go sideways. There’s more space down this way though.” Footsteps and random bumps move in the opposite direction of the exit door.

Eren holds his impressive eyebrows derisively high. 

“You just need to get out, right?” As long as we find his point of entry, he should be fine. Right? “Where did you come in?”

“I dunno. I got lost.” Without warning, he squawks and enters some sort of hyperventilated frenzy. “Sorry, spider web. But I think there’s wind coming from over here. Wind equals good, right?” His voice fades. “Wait, you guys are following me, right?”

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

We end up in front of the janitor’s office. My visible companion clicks his tongue. 

“Before you ask, no, I’m not going in there.” 

“Aw, come on!” Connie whines. “I can’t get out myself and it’s dark and smelly in here! There’s spiders and ghosts!”

Waving the air as if brushing Connie off, Eren leans in close. He smells like plywood. “Let’s just go. Nobody’ll miss him. We can tell Marco he got out on his own.”

It’s hard to tell if he’s joking.

“I can hear you!” Bang bang bang. “I can heaar you…” Bang bang bang bang bang. “Gemme out!” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I venture with a sprinkling of irony. Just in case he actually is joking. 

“Let me out!”

“I mean.” He glances at the spot where the noise emanates. “It’s not like he’s gonna die.”

Is he serious?

He scans my face and scratches his jaw. “Fine, we’ll get him.”

That’s better. “But we can’t really do anything if the janitor’s still inside. Can you check if he’s in there?”

“Why me?” He shoots a dour look down his nose. “Never mind.” Pushing his back flush to the door, he inches sideways until the window is nearly in line with his ear, snatches a peek, and gives a thumbs-up.

“So we just have to go in there and pull Connie out… right?”

“Actually, it’ll be better if one of us stays out here to keep watch. Take this.” Pulling up the bottom of his sweatshirt, he digs into his pants pocket and pulls out a square solar-powered light. “I’ll knock if he appears. Good luck.”

“Thanks?”

And then the door to the janitor’s closet shuts behind me once more, darkness pressing and eating up the edges of my vision. 

Thanks, Eren. After all I’ve done for you. 

I need light — how did I turn this thing on? My fumbling fingers eventually reach a soft button and push, directing light straight through my head. Great. I point the light somewhere useful. 

Rows of columns of cleaning gear, some still in their original packaging, hang from hooks extending from the white pegboard or rest on one of the numerous shelves. I didn’t see all this before — it’s like a torture chamber for dirt. A few feet from the entrance of the rectangular room is the folding table in which the janitor made his first appearance, now cleared of all equipment. “Hey, Connie? Where are you?”

“Right here.” Pointing the light upwards, I’m able to catch my first glimpse of the guy, in the gap between the top of the pegboard and the ceiling. “Hey, I can see my hand! I’m not a ghost!” He waves excitedly, hysterically even.

Until someone bashes their knuckles on the door. Not a second later the light clicks out. 

“Ostrich! C’mere!”

“Where?” I trudge dumbly toward his voice, bumping into what feels and sounds like a mop bucket and breathing a curse. No way they didn’t hear that. 

“Here!” Fingers patter on the particleboard. “Come on!”

Snippets of voice come from the entrance. No more stealth. I rush toward the opposite side of the room, tossing the light over before fumbling and grabbing Connie’s hand. It’s smooth.

“Hold on…” With astonishing force, he pulls me back.

“Woah—” I push my feet against the wall — please don’t break — hooking my other hand over. Connie grabs that too. 

The door swings open as I make it over, flip for a churning fraction of a second, and land heavily on Connie’s body. He grunts on impact just as a flashlight flicks on. 

“Hm,” says the janitor. Brightness sweeps over us on the concrete in small pegboard-sized circles. I can’t breathe; Connie scarcely takes a breath himself. Through a pinhole, his slow and crisp footsteps matches the image of his boots. He kicks the mop bucket to the side with a loud plastic grinding sound. We flinch. 

“Mop bucket fell over. Damned thing.” He drops the light somewhere and settles the mop against the wall. “You can leave now.”

“Er. Yes, Captain.” Eren. The door eases shut. 

“Captain” adjusts the light once more, straightens his throne, and sits down with a sigh. 

Slowly, almost painfully so, I roll onto the cool, grainy ground. 

Something taps my hand. Highlighted by a pockmark is Connie’s eye, hazel to the point of yellow, which swivels back away from the janitor’s room. We need to get out. As sparingly as possible, I nod, though I’m not sure if he sees it. 

We stand in silent — but shared — agony, the kind that shakes your limbs and makes the floor seem hundreds of metres down. Connie takes my hand, forming a clammy layer in between, and leads us back the way he came. We slow and separate. 

“I think we’re okay here,” he mutters, turning on the light in his other hand to reveal his massive grin and bald head. Thank god he remembered that. “Heh heh, that was a close one, huh?”

“Yeah, we nearly escaped death by bludgeoning.” I tremblingly slump against a wood support as he giggles. “That’s hilarious.”

His mood isn’t quelled. “Ohh, come on, have some humour.”

“We’re trapped, aren’t we?”

“You know.” His scalp glistens with a thousand tiny hairs as he lifts the light over himself. “Some ladies would kill for a moment alone with this handsome fellow.”

This guy serious? I’m not seeing that ‘Greek physique.’ “I’m sure.”

Gently, he lays down the torch, springs up, and digs into the pocket of his neon green and black zippered hoodie with a crinkle. “So grumpy, huh? Here.” A wrapped good is tossed into my lap as Connie falls on his ass. Inside is something squishy and dense. “It’s a Twinkie,” he explains at my probing. “I was looking for a place to hide them so Sasha can’t eat them. Don’t tell her I’m giving this to you, she’ll crucify me.” Having successfully pulled apart the top of the package, he bites the whole thing in half, pulling back to extract the sugary flesh.

“Are you sure?” The edge of the clear plastic is smooth and flimsy.

Crumbs spray from his mouth. “Just promise me you’ll stop being grumpy.”

Grumpy? I blink a few times. “Okay, I promise.” I slide to the ground too, smiling. “I’ll be nice.”

“Better be.”

My face drops. “Connie.”

He sniffs. “Relax, Ossie. Just enjoy your… freshly crushed Twinkie.” He tilts his head in fake arrogance. 

“You know, Connie, if somebody didn’t get stuck in a wall, he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.”

“I could have left you in the janitor’s office.”

The words come out before I can stop them. “I could have left you with Eren.”

He sticks out his tongue. 

The crinkling dominates before I manage to tear open a corner of my package, opting to squeeze out the cake which oozes and cracks like a sad horse. I take the crumbly glop on my tongue. 

“Pretty good, huh?” Connie sprays. “You wouldn’t even know it expired six months ago.”

The sweet in my mouth turns bitter. “Six months,” I utter without swallowing, a line of drool threatening to spill. Bacteria and fungi spread their tiny poisonous seeds, creating rot. “That’s… fine.”

“Hey, if you got a problem with it, I’ll gladly take it off you.” He holds out a hand expectantly. 

Before he can react I squeeze the package some more. In a movement similar to his own, I scrape out the remaining pulp with my teeth and swallow.

Connie’s jaw goes slack as I chew, then shoots upward with a clack. “Okay, girlypop, okay! It’s all yours!” The statement is finished with a cackle.

“I said it’s fine, Connie,” I state, definitely spilling some this time. “A little mould won’t kill me now.”

“Yeah, if—” his eyes wander my face— “if the embarrassment doesn’t get you first!” His hysteria surges as he points. “You look so stupid right now! A lifetime’s worth of Twinkie!” He exhales more than he breathes in and soon resorts to gasping for air.

“Me?” I dart a sleeve over my mouth, though it’s already too late. “Look who’s talking!”

The filling in his mouth decorates his chin, legs, and floor. “I don’t take shade from a person named Ostrich. Gotta be the dumbest bird to be named after.”

“Well, I don’t take shade from a person named Connie.”

“Yeah? What’s wrong with my name?”

I pretend to see something interesting on the ceiling, pretend I’m not about to explode into a stupid grin. “I just think Connor is better.” 

“Okay—” he conjures the most serious face he can muster— “you’ve officially made it to my enemies list. Prepare for living hell.”

“What’re you gonna do, shine the sun off your head like a flash bomb?” Now I cackle. 

Okay, maybe that was a little bit mean. 

“Hey! This—” he jerks his hands round his head, the motion affecting his entire hunched form— “is a choice! I shave my own head ‘cuz I want it that way!”

“Okay,” I choke. “Okay, you’re bald by choice.” 

“Stop laughing!” 

“Okay. I can’t. Okay.” Pinching my nose, I draw in a breath. Then sputter into laughter. 

It wasn’t that funny, but I couldn’t help myself. Maybe I really am going mental. 

“I’ll just wait till you’re done,” Connie grumbles, but even in the dark the ghost of a smile can be seen. 

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

We start walking again a bit after — Connie’s afraid my laughing attracted ghosts.

“So, Ostrich. You’re starting to remember?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you remember me?”

“No.”

We walk for a bit more before he speaks again. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“You’re asking me, Shiganshina’s resident amnesiac?”

“Funny. You don’t need memories to have a personality, you know? You’re not a ghost.”

The air smells familiar. “You think so?”

“How about you caress my handsome face and we can both find out?”

I flick his forehead and go cold. 

Did I just do that? 

But he just claps his hand over the point of impact. “Ow! Always the head!”

“Just such a big target,” I nearly sputter. “You’re lucky I don’t call human resources on you or something.”

“Yeah, whatever. Come on, tell me. There’s gotta be something.”

“I really have nothing, Connie,” I say. “But aren’t you the one who knows me so well? Why don’t you tell me something about myself?”

His thinking cap is on. “Well, for starters, you can’t walk straight with a damn.” 

“Strike four, Connie.” 

“Four? You’re already counting the number of times I pissed you off.” He sniffs. “I knew you cared. I can’t wait till we’re all together again…” He giggles like a little girl. 

“That laugh. I don’t like that sound.”

“Relax, Ossie. I’m gonna make it happen.” He thumps his chest. “From now on, I’m gonna focus on getting you out of here. Before bedtime.” 

“Weren’t you the one begging for help earlier?”

“I’m a changed man, I’ve grown.”

It’s a little scary to get so chummy with him so quickly, even if we do supposedly know each other. Always is the small nagging organ in my body releasing its small nagging liquids, telling me to stop, that he hates me, that I’m completely embarrassing myself because this guy is fake or a ghost or clinically insane. Maybe he is. Maybe I’m embarrassing myself. Maybe I’m embarrassing him. 

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

Has it been ten minutes? An hour? It’s like the inside of this wall bends space and time. Einstein would cry.

Light in hand, Connie slows to walk beside me. “Do you remember Covid?”

“Of course! I’d always keep the tracker tab open because of how paranoid I was. I…”

All I see is white. “Holy crap, did you just remember something?”

My hand can’t block out the light. “Put that down.” 

“Think, Ostrich! Think!”

The memory is fleeting, only a wisp of the past unlucky enough to be snuffed up by me. “I’m trying!”

“Harder!”

“Please, Connie, put that away.”

“Oh.”

And with a snap, it vanishes. 

“Did you remember it?”

Blinking doesn’t get rid of the dark blotches. “No.”

“Aw, man.” He hurries to catch up to me. “But you did just remember something, right?”

“I think so.”

“Oh.”

Shuff. Shuf. Shuff…  If I’m not careful, I might blow a hole in these slipper socks. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it.”

No response.

“Connie? It’s alright.”

He mumbles.

Seeing him dejected like this feels wrong. “Um, you haven’t told me something about yourself, Connie.”

“I’m just a guy, Ossie, and I made you lose your only memory.”

This boy. “Connie, it’s fine. Really. I have lots of time to remember things.” 

He kicks the ground. “I know, but…”

“It’s just like you said.” Desperately, I try to remember. “It doesn’t matter if I can’t remember anything, because I’m still my own person. Right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“Tell me something about yourself,” I repeat.

He rubs his hands against each other— “Well…” —and begins to pick up steam. “So, last week we raided this beauty shop, right? And J-boy said I was stupid for doing that, and I called him a horse face, so he threw a cream tube at me. I caught it like this, right—” his arms twist in a weird way as he reenacts the scene— “and it turned out to be a hand cream. I’ve been using it ever since, and frankly, I think he’s jealous.” 

“Hand cream? Is that why your hands are so soft?”

“So you’ve noticed? Ha! I can’t wait to tell him. We gotta get back!” His pace picks up. “I’ll even let you try some, Ossie, because you’re such a good friend.” 

I just met you, but I’m glad you’re happy again. “That means a lot to me.”

“Hold this.” He suddenly stops and shoves the light. “Back up, I’m gonna do something.”

“Something…?” I step away.

Connie squats, swings forth his hands, and leaps backwards. 

I watch as he smashes his feet through the wall, slapping the cold, hard ground with his skull. 

Blap.

“Connie?”

The light reflects innumerable dust motes and the eerily still victim of fatuity. Suddenly, the dark seems a little more alive. “Connie!” His head lolls when I cuff his shoulders. “Are you okay?” Blood trickles from his nostril. “Okay, dumb question.” 

He still has a pulse — but for how long is a mystery. 

Oh shit. This is real. 

I haul him around so his head is near the hole and try shoving him out by pushing up on his ribcage. Warm and squishy… just like that zombie. My arms go a little numb as I take a quick look — first forward, then back. Dust. 

I need to focus. 

Scarce light pours in through the hole as I push — now his shoulders are out. Tiny shards of the wall crumble over his chest. Tiny, dark red shards. 

Plaster bricks. 

“Oh my god! Connie?” The ground vibrates — someone is running over from the other side. 

By some miracle of god (or Connie’s hidden genius), we’re right where we’re supposed to be.

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

gosh this chapter was clunky. (it gets worse.) for the record it was rewritten at least 5 times in every pov and tense and i've since grown tired of it. do you trust your author when they tell you that the next chapters will be better? do you? (don't)

i hope you liked it and all. i know you cant expect shakespeare on ao3tumblr but i keep thinking 'gotta be perfect gotta be perfect!' please lmk if i did anything wrong or something can be improved on. i try to get better.

please take care of yourselves

final notes: mc gets better

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 2 - little sproutling

[lupucs]

Do you have any recommendations for character modeling in blender?

Ooh boy I never know how to respond to questions like that, but I'm gonna try my best and list some stuff which helped me personally, so hopefully this will be helpful to you guys too.

A lot of what im gonna say is probably gonna sound really generic but generally speaking just watching one tutorial series and calling it a day isn't gonna cut it.

Something that helped me a whole lot was having a clear goal in mind (like I remember the first thing I wanted to do was translate my OCs in 3D). Picking something I was invested in is what pushed me to do my own research (and now its Deltarune fan animations lol). Knowing how to maintain motivation and going in with the right mindset is the most important thing imo.

I use Blender for my 3D work, which is free and open source. I personally prefer it over paid software like Maya or 3dsMax, especially for modeling and sculpting (I remember I had to use Max and Maya for a while but overall it was a pretty agonizing experience to be honest, so I switched back to Blender, which just feels a whole lot easier to use for me personally lol, but really at the end of the day just pick the software you want. This is just my personal preference). If you have a potato laptop like me, I definitely advise you to use Blender tho as it is very lightweight compared to other 3D programs, plus it can do the same things and then some. Not to mention there are way more free resources on Blender stuff so it's easier to get access to the info you need. Anyways Blender-simping over, moving on!

Tutorials are always a great idea, but you're also gonna have to learn how to do problem-solving. 3D can be a really technical and rigid medium, so being patient and knowing how to do independent learning is very important. Take a look at box-modeling, sculpting, texturing and procedural shading. Unfortunately that's gonna involve a lot of annoying situations and moments of immeasurable pain, but once you're more familiar with how things work, it's super fun and rewarding!

Don't forget to have fun and experiment! It's easy to get lost and overwhelmed by the technical aspects of 3D but it's important to just let go and make silly things. Also talking to other 3d artists with similar interests helps a ton, especially more experienced ones but I am aware not everyone has access to that (plus not everyone might want that, esp when you're an introvert like me haha!)

If you gotta sell your soul to a corporation then focusing on one particular subset is gonna be useful for animation jobs, as this is what most studios want. Some artists might like specializing into just one area, and that's totally fine but for me who prefers to be a generalist, it just kinda ruins my joy for 3D to restrict myself to just one part of it. Plus if you enjoy doing what you do, you tend to learn a lot faster anyway.

This might be a bit of an uncommon take, but one of the most stifling pieces of advice I have received from industry 3D artists is to only focus on one thing (as in, only skill up your UV-unwrapping, or only do rigging, only do hard-surface modeling, only do organic environment modeling and so on). NUH-UH! Just do what you want fam. Make the spoingle-boingles pet cats. Focus on the things you like. Make barney the dinosaur destroy the whole set. Model, rig and animate them if you want. Really, just have fun. Obviously you gotta do some self-checks and see where you need to improve, and where your strengths and weaknesses are, and focusing on those areas can be very helpful. Just make sure you're having a good time doing it, and don't be too harsh on yourself. Definitely take a break if you're overwhelmed.

You don't have to be able to draw to be good at character modeling but making turnaround sketches helps me a whole lot whenever I make 3D characters. Knowing how to draw will also benefit your sense of design and shapes, as you can use your drawing skills for texturing and adding your own flair to your models.

Another thing I would do is look at other people's 3D models and study the topology and the way they model things. This also helps a lot with motivation. Obviously you don't wanna copy, just study the way other people model things and see what other talented artists come up with! There are a bunch of free Blender rigs you can download and study on your own, not to mention useful videos and streams on YouTube. The Rain and Snow rigs are pretty awesome. Some of this stuff is behind a paywall but I recommend checking out the free resources of the "Settlers" project for highly cartoony modeling and rigging (this playlist is very useful, I didn't watch all of it but some parts have been pretty inspirational to me). Also just following 3D artists you like and looking at their art for inspiration will help you stay motivated.

Hope this is useful!

[wolfnesta]

I wrote this in an attempt to understand the archeron sisters a bit better as they grew up before poverty struck, connecting canon snippets, their behavior, and adding my own details (so this is not canon okay clear.) Since sjm never touched on the subject more in depth Im guessing she wanted to leave it up to the readers. (warning - parent abuse and how the archeron sister’s suffering might have shaped them to who they became)

The worst of Nesta’s childhood was when their grandmother was around, loosening a bit when she passed away. She was enforced a strict schedule from morning down to the later afternoon. Everything that she did she had to do it properly— from silverware etiquette down to how she walked. Disciplines were doled out harshly by her grandmother, one of her first lesson was never to plead during one. From an even younger age any love that she tried to demonstrate was scorned or criticized by her. Nesta fostered a lot of resentment towards her father, instructors, and sometimes her mother, who saw her grandmother’s mistreatment but wouldn’t step in. Because of this most of her instructors thought her prickly and didn’t enjoy their time with her, which she knew. Nesta cherished seeing the sweet nature that came naturally to Elaine and tried to protect it from her grandmother though she would sometimes feel jealous of her fathers attentions towards Elain. Because of Nesta‘s rigid schedule her and Elain didn’t often have time to spend together. As Nesta’s days went by she would sometimes think of Feyre but often felt too drained to try.

Elain a quiet, sweet child, slightly melancholic something that would cause the servants to say that she was an old soul. Thoughtful and quick to smile. As a child she would accept any scolding and immediately apologize. Due to her sweet nature other playmates of their class stature would find her easy prey to bully. Any love that she demonstrated, which was often, was also bashed and ignored which is what started Nesta feeling protective of her. Elaine was also a product of neglect. Her father was affectionate but would only give her a very small amount of time. Her best interactions were with the servants and their children which were never stable due to the high turnaround rate of those employed for the Archeron family. She was quick to forgive and wished she could understand why she couldn’t keep friends. When Feyre was born Elain regarded her as cute though she was cautious. They attempted playing when they were both a little older but eventually felt they had little in common Elain deciding to let Feyre enjoy her time herself.

From a baby Feyre’s presence was forgotten, the parents always assumed she was fine under the care of nannies constantly being hired. The small attempt invested in her academic education was lost in all the transitioning from governess to governess. Feyre thought the dismissal from her parents was normal until she slowly realized as she grew up but found it better to push the thought away from her mind. She was never taught anything about emotions so she often wore them plainly on her face. She would occasionally feel resent at the attention Nesta would get from their mother and Elain from her father while she received none but as an observant child she often felt a sense of wrongness for them in her heart. Out of both parents Feyre preferred her father who would occasionally give her attention and she saw Nesta as a replica of their mother. Nesta’s already growing anger at the world included Feyre when she would catch Feyres distaste towards her on her features. Feyre chose to forego making friends with servants as Elain had because she knew they were temporary. She, instead, would spend most of her time outside or in small quiet corners of their house where she spent her time with wax crayons which she learned to be discreet with after a very short but painful interaction with a particularly harsh governess that caught her drawing on a wall. Because she was left to her own devices Feyre would often give in to her strong desire to explore, climbing trees, the roof, appearing with scraped shins but grinning. She eventually became accustomed to the sadness she always felt at having no one to share her adventures with.

[gender-mailman]

Now he wants to talk like that even more LOL. It is the same as how we don't want to look too serious when we are neutral, but it like we don't want to look like we flirt with someone, HE JUST TALKS LIKE THAT ALL THE TIME DKDNJSKDNDK

I actually noticed that English is a lot more... Fluid? In sound. Like German is very harsh, Russian is rigid too, I got used to Portuguese but it's almost like English just more nasal. A lot more nasal.... So me using this rough Russian with German roots accent on English is basically "ZIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN SPEAKING" (I literally talk like this...)

(Me very sleepy so sorry if this is short)

Sfdgvjbjjkti i can imagine that being a issue cxfukndwtgj

Its the second time (that i can remember) that i hear someone say this about portuguese, and yeah, its right it is very nasal, and im sorry but i found it funny how you say you speak it /nm /lh

Mmmmmm me tired and sleppt

[kzhnyas]

"Cold"

Samatoki offers you his jacket while it's snowing. You reject him. He won't take that and tries anyways.

[ samatoki / GN reader , samatoki being cute , sfw ]

Holding the cup of coffee close to you, your hands felt its warmth radiating out of the cardboard sleeve. Standing silently, your shoulders rose and tensed up everytime a sudden harsh gust of wind swept past you.

Looking down at the ground, you stared at the snow that was collecting underneath you. As beautiful as it is, the temperatures were below freezing and you were stuck here waiting for your boss to finish up his meeting. Tipping the cup into your mouth, a satisfied sigh left you when the nearly burning liquid warmed you up.

It wasn't enough though, you were still slightly shivering.

A small cloud appeared everytime you breathed into your hands, trying to keep it from going numb in case you had to hold something for your boss. When it failed and you felt your hands slowly go stiff, you rose your free hand that wasn't holding the coffee to your neck.

You flinched, your hands were ice cold, but your neck was nice and hot. Resting it there for a bit, you wished you had gotten a better coat. The sudden drop in temperature was something no one expected, but everyone had thick coats... You on the other hand didn't have time to go shopping for a new one.

The long trench coat kept you warm, but it wasn't made for the snow. Under it was a tight turtleneck that would have worked, if the coat also did its job.

Why did it have to be so cold..

A pair of black shoes appeared in your vision, a suitcase held closely as well. "Im done." Drowsily, you looked back up to see your boss, Samatoki, standing there with a blank expression. Meeting must have gone fine then. Good, less work for you.

Nodding, you pulled yourself together and reached over to take the suitcase from him, only for him to pull back. He quirked a brow up, noticing how you were barely dressed for the weather.

He also noticed how your the joints in your fingers seemed rigid and the way your skin was slightly flushed.

"Sir, I can carry your bag for y—"

"Give me your coffee too."

You stared at him. Sure, he may be your boss, but you've also known him for quite some time now and know some things others don't. "You're taking my drink?" Still though, you held it up for him to take it.

Samatoki hummed lowly, shrugging his jacket off of his broad shoulders. Dusting it off, he abruptly grabbed you and forced you to turn around. Before you could complain, he quickly told you to shut up, like he already knew what you were going to say.

"You're cold, arent you?" He said in an annoyed tone, being able to see you shiver from miles away. The way you immediately cringed when you two left his building told him enough.

You said nothing, not wanting to seem like the cold would slow you down. Truthfully speaking, you were his assistant, so you dealt with much worse than some snow.

"You can take my jacket."

Facing him now, you saw that he was wearing a similar black turtleneck to you, except it looked much thicker and conserved more heat than yours. His eyes were bright red, seeming deeper and more vibrant over the bright white snow.

"I don't need it."

Deadpanning, Samatoki refused to accept your answer and started putting the jacket behind you. "Wha—" Scowling, you try swatting his hand away and fuss, pushing his arm off of you. Still, he stood his ground and fought to put the jacket on you.

A long string of silent curses rang out in his head as he tried to keep you still so he could put the jacket on you. You were so obviously, painfully cold. The least he could do is help you out.

"I dont need your jacket, Samatoki."

"And now you're pulling out the first name." It embarrassed Samatoki slightly, he wasn't used to you calling him by his first name. Normally it was just Sir or even Aohitsugi, but he had more things to worry about. "Just take the damn jacket-"

"No, you put it back on."

"No, you put it on!"

Snow was starting to pool under you two, small white specks landing on his black turtleneck while they sat in your hair.

Trying to balance holding the hot burning coffee cup while also avoiding Samatoki was getting difficult, your hands were starting to go numb but in a painful way. Anytime you'd move them would send jolts of pain to you.

You were determined to disobey your leaders command, trying to move on and head back to the base while he did everything in his power to place the jacket across your shoulders.

He would shift around you, carrying the thick fabric in both of his hands and seemed to have a terrifying look plastered across his face. Anyone who was nearby and could see you two quickly retreated to other places or simply turned around, avoiding you two.

You took a overly long sip of coffee, peaking in the corner of your eye as you waltzed through the snow to see your frustrated leader, looking childish. "Y/n..."

"Mm," Swallowing down the hot drink, you hummed in satisfaction. "Yes, si—?"

The large jacket was placed over your hand, obscuring your vision, causing you to come to a halt. With a gentle, low sigh, you pulled the jacket to your shoulders where it rested there nicely, shielding you from the harsh winter winds. "Is that better?" when you looked back up, you saw your leader leaning over in front of your face.

Clearing your throat, your gaze was quickly turned downward, feeling blood rush to your cheeks. Tugging on the sides of the jacket, the world suddenly felt like the sun had gotten closer to it, heating you up.

You weren't sure if it was because of the embarrassment you felt, or from the warm jacket that provided enough padding and fabric.

"..." Samatoki had a slight grin on his face, a cheeky one. One that you didn't see often unless you two were in his private quarters, away from the others. "Y..." Once more, you cleared your throat, walking along the sidewalk as he followed closely behind.

"Yes.. Thank you..."

A hand was across your waist, pulling you in. A loud yelp rang out, your hips bumping with his. He was too proud of himself for this, even though he struggled putting the jacket on you for nearly five minutes.

Though, a smile still came over you, huddling closer to him and taking in his body heat. He was warm, cozy, his hand keeping a protective hold on you.

"You know, sometimes you can be cute."

"Please just keep walking to the base."

"Oh, so you can be all lovey and gross, but I can't?"

[the-lonelybarricade]

Hiii!! I've been following your work since the beginning and i just wanted to give u a big squeeze of a hug for blessing us with all of your fics 'cause i feel like we don't deserve u for blessing us with all these wonderful feysand content that u are sharing.

I hope all is well with ur life and in ur studies, and if it's not too much to ask, would you consider writing a feysand au where Feyre & Rhys aren't mates, but are happily in love and in a relationship--when all of a sudden, one of them meets their mate (preferably Rhys..?) or something like that 😚. Won't lie to u that im dying to know what events would play out and how Feyre would react if this scenario happened. Really no pressure to write this or anything just wanted to try my luck with this idea :DD. Thank u!

Bestie, ooof. What are you trying to do to me? Can you imagine how heartbreaking that would be for Feysand to be happy and in love, waiting patiently for the mating bond to snap only to find out they were star-crossed lovers all along? Well you don’t have to imagine it, because I already have. And if I’m going to be in torment over Feysand angst, I’m (affectionately) dragging you all down with me.

P.s. thank you for the submission lovely, I hope you enjoy <3

The Chains That Bind Us

Word count: 1,956

⟡⟡⟡

Feyre and Rhysand were happily married. For 300 years, they had basked in what seemed like an infinite stretch of rapture, working alongside and complimenting each other with a grace and chemistry that had always felt predestined. They had always been certain they were mates, but time had flowed on and neither had felt the inkling of that special, magic bond.

They have resigned that perhaps the mating bond will never snap, perhaps that’s simply not what they were to one another, but that was okay. It was enough to be husband and wife, to be High Lord and Lady, to be happy and in love. They didn’t need a mating bond to reaffirm what they felt for one another. Things were already perfect as they were.

Until they weren’t. Until they had journeyed together to Illyria to oversee the announcement of the first all-female battalion. It had been a long term goal of Rhysand and his brothers to finally battle back the long ingrained sexism of Illyrian culture, and the visit was meant to be a celebration. A liberating ceremony, in honor of their mothers and all the females who had been victims of prejudice.

But when the leader of the battalion stepped forward to be acknowledged for her accomplishments, Rhysand had gone rigid at Feyre’s side, his breathing suddenly ragged. His pupils were blown wide, eyes fixed, riveted to the female.

Feyre felt her whole world had imploded in that moment. Especially when that female’s eyes had met her High Lord’s and had frozen just the same, the two bearing matched expressions of awe and disbelief.

She was certain she was going to be sick. Such a thing would be far from befitting of a High Lady, so Feyre had immediately winnowed back to their River House, back into their bathroom where she was instantly emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl.

Rhysand was there not too long after, holding back Feyre’s hair. They said nothing to each other, not until Feyre had recovered enough to turn and face her husband.

She was entirely unprepared for the way her heart shattered to meet his face, to meet those lovely eyes she had loved for centuries. Eyes that had only moments before been staring at another female with so much blind devotion it had torn her open.

“Feyre—” he started.

“I suppose we should have assumed that something like this could happen,” she interrupted, because she couldn’t bear to hear him apologize. Not for something like this, something that was entirely out of either of their control.

“It doesn’t change anything,” he insisted, but there was a strain to his voice that had never been present before. A bite that Feyre was convinced was the result of Rhysand battling against his instincts to return to Illyria, to that female.

“It changes everything, Rhys.”

She was already weeping as she choked the words out, because speaking them made them true. Those few centuries of bliss between them, they were a bubble, a perfectly crafted delusion that had finally popped.

“I love you,” Rhys seethed, as though arguing with himself. “I don’t even know that females name—”

“It doesn’t matter, Rhys. She’s your—”

“Don’t say it,” he begged, his voice a broken rasp. “Please, don’t say it.”

Somehow, that made it impossibly worse. That Rhys had been gifted this incredible, Cauldron-blessed thing, but was scorning it for her sake. Most Fae dreamed of the moment their mating bond would snap, and here was her husband acting as if it was his worst nightmare.

But Feyre knew what it was like for males. She knew he was clawing against every instinct in his mind, screaming at him to go to his mate, to know her name, to claim her. Feyre stifled another sob. Rejected mating bonds could drive a male mad. How could she ever think to do that to him? How could she deny him this piece of himself?

What broke her heart more than anything is that Feyre knew he would. Rhysand would reject his bond, would let that intrinsic part of his soul be torn away, for her sake. If Feyre asked, he would stay. He would stay and be miserable.

“I can’t do this to you, Rhys. I can’t force you to stay with me out of duty. I will not be your jailor.”

“You are my wife,” Rhys choked, reaching for her hand. He drew her palms to his face, allowing her to caress his cheeks. He shut his eyes as he nuzzled into her touch, causing his unshed tears to fall, racing down to collect at her hands. “You are my High Lady. You are the only one I want to be with.”

That wrecked another sob through Feyre’s body, which came out as a harsh exhale as she tried to restrain it. “You’d be a broken male without her, Rhys. The Cauldron—” she sucked in a strangled breath. Some truths were just too difficult to confront— “The Cauldron didn’t intend for us to be together.”

“Damn the Cauldron,” he growled, reaching for her with newfound conviction. “No one and nothing can decide who I love. No one can tell me that you are not who I belong with—who I belong to.”

Feyre allowed him to bundle her in his arms, to press her fiercely against his chest. She knew moments like this were fleeting, where they could hold each other as husband and wife. Already, their love was tarnished. Tainted. Blood spilled onto white snow. How long would it take for this mating bond to seep, to spill into the cracks, to spread until it consumed them? She couldn’t see an outcome where they could stay together unblemished, where they wouldn’t come to resent one another.

“Rhysand, listen to me love,” Feyre said, and found that her voice was steadier than she anticipated. “I care more about you being happy than I care about that happiness being found with me. Do you understand?”

“I would not be happier without you, Feyre.” His voice was ripe with earnesty. When she turned those eyes to meet his, those violet depths were burning, the silver constellations completely eclipsed by molten amethyst. He swallowed thickly. “Do I… want that female? Yes.” Feyre cringed to hear her husband admit it outloud. “But, that is just my instincts. I will be able to manage them with time. This bond is nascent. My love for you? It’s endured for centuries. The cauldron is not faultless; my parents were mates and they were miserable together. I could never imagine someone so perfect to walk beside me as you, Feyre. I do not seek another, no matter what fate has to say for it.”

Feyre allowed the comfort of his words to wash over her. She rested her head against Rhysand’s shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent, letting herself lavish in the rhythm of him, the beat of his heart steady in his chest.

“I will understand if you change your mind,” she whispered. “I do not hold you to your vows. If you become unhappy, if one day you cannot resist the pull you feel towards her… I will not hold it against you. I give you permission to… to leave me.”

Rhys let out a small, rueful laugh before he pressed a tender kiss to her temple. “How could I desert a love that is so selfless? The least I could do in the wake of such a declaration is promise to never see that female again.”

Feyre shook her head emphatically. “Don’t promise me that, Rhys. Just—just promise me that we’ll always be honest with each other. That we’ll always be a team, whether it be as rulers, or as lovers, or… or just as friends.”

“I promise,” he swore. “I vowed on my court and crown that I will love you for eternity. And I still know that to be true, even now. My soul… it might belong to someone else. But my heart, Feyre, it will always belong to you.”

There was something irreparably changed between them. They both knew it, could sense the way it lingered between them. The first crack, and possibly not the last. What they had was fragile now, but they had a gift for being delicate with one another.

The silence hung between them, a wretched, discomfiting presence that had never been there before. Both not quite sure what to say, not quite sure where this put them. She watched Rhysand’s lower lip quiver, understood that it was from the strain of not burdening her with his own turmoil over the situation.

Feyre tutted as she threw her arms around him, recognizing the signs of his crumbling. Rhys bowed his head in shame, burying his face into her chest.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped against her, releasing a sob of his own. “I’m sorry it couldn’t have been you. I wanted it to be you. I’m a failure of a husband, for putting you through this.”

“You are an excellent husband,” Feyre protested, threading her fingers through his hair soothingly. Her voice was still raw. “I don’t blame you for this, Rhys. I love you just the same.”

He lifted his head so their tear-stained faces were level. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, still glistening in silver. “What do we do now?”

They clung to each other so tightly, as if they pressed hard enough they could redirect fate, could mold their souls together and correct the misdeed of the Cauldron.

“I don’t know,” Feyre answered, burying her face in his shoulder as if it would hide her from the truth of the world. “I suppose we have no choice but to keep going. We’ll find our footing again. Together. And if we don’t… well, maybe we can wish on the stars.”

There was a huff of air at her ear. A laugh, she guessed, or something like it, something wry and humorless. Rhys moved underneath her, and Feyre pulled away to watch in confusion as her husband rose to his feet.

He extended his hand towards her. Curious, Feyre accepted, allowing him to pull her to her feet. In a blink, they were on the rooftop, beneath the stars. She hadn’t even realized the sun had set until she was staring up at the impossibly bright cosmos.

“Where better to find our footing than under those very stars?”

She turned to him, and Rhys was staring at her the way he had on starfall, all those centuries ago. Staring at her as if she were the brightest star in the sky, as though he looked to Feyre to cast his wishes.

“Will you dance with me, wife?”

Not convinced she was capable of speech, Feyre nodded. Using the hand he still held, Rhys twirled her into his arms. And though no music played, they found their own rhythm, lost in the cadence of each other, spinning endlessly under the stars.

As they swayed under the endless expanse of sky and starlight, Feyre mused how even the brightest of stars eventually burned out, but that didn’t make them any less worth wishing on. That didn’t mean they weren’t worth fighting for.

⟡⟡⟡

[justauthoring]

The Lingering Shadow [1]

A/N: here’s the first part! i’ve been reading far too many oikawa fics lately, specifically yandere ones, but since that’s not really my style of writing, i’ve decided to add my own little twist. so yes, some chapters might be dark, and oikawa is definitely not a good guy (sorry to any die-hard oikawa fans) but the reader will have a happy ending :)

just to be clear, she’s a second year in this. and obviously everything will be explained in due time, but please let me know who you all would like the reader to eventually end up with -- im thinking one of the third years, but not sure who. though, i’ll consider anyone (besides oikawa lol) so please send in some suggestions.

Summary: He’s a past memory you’ve tried so hard to forget. So hard to leave in the past. And you almost succeed, almost do it, until his voice is suddenly calling out for you and then, you just can’t seem to get rid of him. Pairing: tbd, Yandere!Oikawa Tooru x Reader

TW: yandere oikawa, dark themes, warnings might change as chapters progress.

“I feel like I’ve seen you before...”

The sound of his voice sends you to a rigid freeze, entire body tensing up in panic. You’d recognize his voice anywhere, of course you would -- you’d used to be obsessed with it (as strange as that sounded). Completely and wholeheartedly devoted to it. Him and that sultry tone of his. Him and that fake grin of his.

Your hands freeze on the strap of your bag, the one you’d been packing seconds prior -- peacefully and undisturbed. And you hang there a moment, unsure of what you should do. You don’t want to turn, don’t want to face him, and you certainly don’t want to engage in any sort of conversation with him.

Hands pressed on either side of you head, a looming figure standing before you, trapping you. There’s no escape. No where to turn.

You keep your gaze down, shaking, violently and without fault. You’re scared to look up, lips feel as if they’d been glued shut -- you’re so completely confused and out of your element that it’s stunned you silent without fault. He’s a intimidating figure before you, even if you’d never felt that way prior to this moment. He’d used to seem like the sun and stars to you, now he feels like nothing more then a shadow, lurking in the dark.

You hadn’t wanted this -- you didn’t want this. You were just--

“--congratulating me, right?” He smirks, voice a low drawl. “This feels like congratulation enough to me.”

You shut the memory out, forcing it to the very back of your mind like you have for the past few months. You refuse to remember it, relive it, and it’s different this time -- the two of you aren’t alone. Aren’t in some dark corner of the school where no one else can see, where no prying and curious eyes can fall on the two of you.

Your team will notice, surely--

“Ah,” he grins, “I knew I’d recognized you.”

You’ve turned to face him before you even realized you actually had. It’s like your feet move on their own, like your body had instinctively reacted to his voice, like it had that day. 

When you look at him, he’s grinning widely, head tilted to that side and has that familiar twist to it that you haven’t managed to get out of your minds eye since that day. You’d never used to see it, never would’ve dreamed of seeing such a sadistic and twisted look in the boys face -- but now, you think it fits perfectly if the lasting touch of his scalding touch is anything to go by.

“O-Oikawa-san,” you whisper, forcing the words out as you bow your head. You take a quick glance around the Karasuno gym the both of you were in, finding his team scattered amongst the crowd as they packed up their things, and your own team missing. It occurs to you then that they must be in the locker room, changing out of their gym attire.

You’re not alone, but certainly not with anyone that’d care for the panicked look on your face.

Kiyoko isn’t even there.

“Y/L/N, right?” He calls, jutting his hip out as he leans on his right leg, “you used to go to Aoba Johsai.”

The casual lilt to his tone as you wondering if he even remembers that day, and with a blink you realize he probably doesn’t. Just because he recognized your face, doesn’t mean anything. You’d used to go to every single one of his games, watched with a striving passion and unwavering determination, maybe he just remembered seeing your face amongst the crowd.

Part of it hurts, the stinging realization that he didn’t even care to remember what he’d done that day. The fear he’d set deep within you, it never having fully stopped coursing through your veins.

But then, another, more logical side of you reasons good -- you don’t want him to remember. If he doesn’t remember, it’s less likely to happen again.

“You’re a manager here?”

Swallowing thickly, you force yourself to sound as strong as you possibly can. “Y-yes, well, manager in training. Kiyoko-san is helping me--”

“It’s a wonder how you managed that,” he cuts in, voice sharp. “My number one fan, manager of Karasuno. A team nobody even remembers anymore.”

You freeze, lips left parted.

“That’s what you called yourself, right? My number one fan?” His tone is light enough that to anybody in passing, it sounds casual. But you see it, that blaze in his eyes, the sweet smile on his lips that is just a little too sweet, and the curl of his eyes that seems a little too forced to be real.

You once would’ve believed it, one of the poor girls that would fall for his charms easily and without fault. Now, it just floods you with fear.

“It’s all, if I remember correctly, you were good for.”

He takes a step forward, and you take one back, and it hits you like a slap across the face.

“Congratulations on the win, huh?”

His smile turns twisted, dark, and you find yourself pressed against a wall suddenly, him gaining on you.

“How would you like to congratulate me then?”

“My faithful fan ran away it seems.”

“Oikawa,” you call, voice pitching in panic. “Please--”

“Is everything alright, Y/L/N-san?”

You don’t think you’ve ever appreciated Kiyoko more then you do in that exact moment -- and you owe a lot to her and her kindness. 

Oikawa turns at the sound of her voice, and your wide eyes soften somewhat at the curious, but guarded, look upon her face as she eyes the two of you. There’s a still moment, a long pause, one where you’re not sure what to say, if you could even say anything if you wanted to -- it feels like you can barely breathe, he’s still far too close.

But you don’t have to. Oikawa does for you.

“Catching up with an old friend is all,” he smiles, bright-eyed and convincing as ever, “she used--”

“Ne, ne, Y/L/N-senpai, what are you doing talking to The Great King?”

You hate that name, you decide then, more then ever. A flash of orange appearing next to you, all but butting himself into the conversation, bounding up to you with bright eyes and a warm smile -- it’s a nice contrast to Oikawa’s you also decide, body easing somewhat.

You knew your team would notice. Of course they would.

“I used to go to the same school as Oikawa-san,” you explain softly, saying what you’re sure Oikawa had been about to to Kiyoko, finding your voice with the strength of no longer being alone with him. However, you can’t help but eye him out of the corner of your eye, apprehensive and unsure. “Though, he was a year ahead of me.”

“I didn’t know she’d transferred to Karasuno,” Oikawa explains, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Pleasant surprise is all.”

You notice the rest of the team joining, slowly filtering over to where the four of you stand. Hinata still looks quite confused, and as Kageyama comes to a stand behind him, he also looks quite puzzled. However, as your attention filters over to the older members of the team, they seem more apprehensive, like Kiyoko had, narrowed gazes fixtured up Oikawa.

Tanaka, in particular, steps forward, a harsh glare on his face, a threatening aura surrounding him, to which Hinata is quick to back him up (of course, you notice the way he also uses his upperclassmen as a shield) all whilst Oikawa simply stands there with a confused smile.

He’s good, you realize as well, really good. Better then you thought. He does, of course, have years of practice -- twisting that glint into something more friendly, more approachable, more charismatic.

“Oikawa-san!” A teammate of his calls, pulling the attention away from you, whilst Daichi grabs both Tanaka and Hinata by their collars, yanking them back. “It’s time to go.”

Oikawa turns to your team, offering a small wave, and hope floods you then. The casualness of his step, the way his back is turned to you, you think maybe, just maybe, that was it. Just a game to him. He probably liked seeing the fear in your eyes, got off on it, but you didn’t matter enough to him to do anything else. That was it. He would be off, and things would go back to normal -- you wouldn’t have to see him again.

It was luck that Takeda had managed a practice match with Oikawa’s team, and though you’d been somewhat nervous when you first heard -- he’d ignored you till the end. And you wouldn’t be seeing him again, transferring schools insured that fact.

But then a hand falls on your shoulder, and your gaze flickers upwards, finding --

Oikawa staring down at you, gaze intense, unwavering, and it sends a chill down the back of your spine. His grip is tight on your shoulder, having caught you the moment you’d tried to pull off the wall and get away. He’s strong, stronger then he looks, and he keeps you there with ease, before pushing, just a small push, slamming you back against the wall.

And then his other hand is gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze up, and his lips are own your before you even have a moment to argue. He’s unrelenting, forceful, and you don’t know how to stop him -- how to even beg for him to stop, because it occurs to you that he won’t care.

He doesn’t care.

“I’ll be seeing you.”

And Oikawa’s off before you’ve even properly processed his words, chest heaving as he squeezes your shoulder, the threat clearly there, and then the pressure is gone.

He’s gone.

You watch him walk off, pull on that familiar white and blue jacket, and Takeda is saying goodbye to their coach with a polite bow, and Seijoh is walking out the doors. But not before Oikawa sends a smile back at you, just you, his eyes finding yours easily, and even from where you’re stood, you can see that glint, and it feels like all the warmth in your body is just gone.

The feeling of a hand on your shoulder once against snaps you out of your revere, and your wide, somewhat panicked eyes fall on Kiyoko whose staring down at you in concern.

“Are you okay, Y/L/N-san?”

A glance at the rest of your team, and most seem to be wearing a similar expression of concern, if not confusion. You even notice Tsukishima glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Y/L/N?” Daichi calls, pressing you gently.

“Yeah,” you choke out, the words light and airy, but you smile to convince them of the fact. Your shoulders ease, and Kiyoko’s grasp lightens at the feeling, and then you’re smiling up at her, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear with a light laugh. “Just caught me off guard is all. Haven’t seen him in a long time.”

“I didn’t know you two were friends.”

It’s Kageyama who says it, and his tone is sharp, blunt.

“Kageyama!” Sugawara chastises, sending him a harsh glare.

“No, no.” you argue, shaking your head. “It’s fine. We’re not really. When I was in my first year, I used to go to a lot of his games. I guess he just recognized me from the crowds.”

You hope you’re convincing, and you are enough that they leave it at that. But even if you notice the glances thrown your way, or the way Kiyoko dutifully sticks close to you as you finish grabbing your things, taking a bit longer then normal in order to insure you don’t see Oikawa again when you leave the gym.

You don’t want to see him again.

But something deep down, twisting around your heart, tells you you don’t have much of a choice in that matter.

[sombreboy]

Please, noona ⤑ switch!jjk

✗ 18+ ✗ pairing: switch!jjk x dom!female reader ✗ genre: pwp smut ✗ word count: 1.5k ✗ warnings: profanity, blowjob, big dick, unprotected sex/creampie. (he subby but then switches at the end ok ok enjoy.) smh im jealous of koo in this one.

Hey, I heard you like subby men. @chimoona​ ily or something

You knew he loved it though..

He loved feeling helpless underneath, being nothing but a plaything for you.

“Just fuck me already…” Jungkook whined in annoyance, tugging at the cuffs above him that kept his wrists tightly pinned to the headboard. He watched the way your head slowly bobbed up and down on his cock, not too slow— but definitely not hard enough for his liking.

It was infuriating as fuck.

You didn’t respond, ignoring his bratty attitude by driving his cock deep down your throat, keeping his bulbous head lodged in the back of it as you stared up at him with a piercing gaze. 

Nothing was more rewarding than watching him fall apart for you.

“Fuck…. Please, please…” his eyebrows were tightly knit together as he was unable to look away, cock throbbing desperately in your throat. 

You didn’t move. It drove him absolutely insane.

“I can’t stand it, noona! Please move! My cock hurts…”

It hurt because you’d been edging him for so long.

You knew he loved it though..

He loved feeling helpless underneath, being nothing but a plaything for you.

You slowly ripped his length from your throat, saliva dribbling down your chin as you smiled, crawling up on top of the man to kiss him, deep and rough with tongue, swirling your wet muscle around his own. He moaned, the sound so whiny and sweet on your tongue as he squirmed underneath you, the taste of himself on your tongue only fueling his arousal.

You pull back to stare down at him with a wicked smile, tilting your head to the side as you observe his expressions. 

“What do you want, little bun? Hm?” You coo softly, brushing his dark curls away from his face. He sighed quietly from your touch, bucking his hips upwards against your fleshy ass.

“I want to cum inside of you. Please. Fuck me, god please..” Jungkook threw his head back against the pillow beneath him, whining and begging for you to grant him something, anything to relieve his painful, aching desires.

‘’I’ve been so good for you, haven’t I?” He added, his doe eyes swirling with nothing but pure submission for you, a slight hint of sadness. He wanted you so bad it physically hurt his heart just thinking about not getting it.

‘’Ah, such a pretty boy when you beg, Koo.’’ You lifted yourself up from where you sat, clothed cunt hovering above where his slick cock laid on his lower abdomen, throbbing in anticipation as he watched you tug your panties to the side, exposing what he’s been craving all along. ‘’Is this what you want?’’ You wrap your fingers delicately around his heavy length, bringing the leaking, swollen head of his cock to rub it up and down your slit, gathering and spreading your juices up to your clit before using him to pleasure yourself. A quiet moan slips past your lips that has Jungkook’s entire body shuddering underneath you, the rustling sound of the chains on the handcuffs striking the room as he kept yanking his arms. He wanted to touch you so fucking bad, to show you just how good he could fuck you if he was given the power.

But it was more fun this way.

‘’Noona….’’ Jungkook’s pitch got higher as he gasped, the self control he possessed was uncanny, holding back from trying to fuck right up into your cunt. He wanted you to sink down on him when you decided to. ‘’Please, please, please…’’

Finally, fucking finally, you gave him what he wanted, slamming down your ass against his upper thighs as his entire length pushed inside of you in one swift, harsh motion. A series of curses slipped through Jungkook’s lips, his body trembling, his head snapping from one side to the other. He was a complete mess for you, your pussy was a fucking wonderland to him.

It was heaven.

‘’Ah, Kookie, you’re so big…’’ You breathed out, placing your palms on his chest for leverage as you began to grind on his cock, using him for your own pleasure. He fucking loved it.

‘’Stretching my tight cunt so well.. Does it feel good baby? Tell me.’’

‘’Yeah, s-shit, fuck..’’ Jungkook’s lower lip was swollen from biting back his moans, but to no avail. The second you started to move up and down on him without mercy, his jaw went slack, lips parting as heavy breaths and moans erupted from his throat.

‘’Yes, noona, it feels so good, keep using me until you cum, please..’’

He was such a good boy, how could you deny him when he begged so well?

You couldn’t…

‘’I will use your pretty cock, my little bun.’’ Your nails dug into the soft flesh of his chest, dragging them down to his stomach. His eyes fluttered shut, hips bucking up to meet you every single time you came down on him, the sound of your skin slapping together sinful and absolutely wonderful.

‘’Are you grateful? That I’m going to cum from using you?’’ You continued, picking up in speed, rolling your hips down. It was difficult to say much else, breathy moans emitting from your lips with every meeting thrust of his own. He was strong, well built, and you loved the desperation in his body to feel you more, deeper, faster, harder.

‘’Thank you, noona… Thank you, I love you, use me, please-- a-are you close? I can’t..’’ Jungkook’s voice broke into a sob when you clawed at his sides, fucking yourself on his cock harder. ‘’I can’t hold it mu-uch longer..’’

The wet sounds of his cock pushing into you was mesmerising, his eyes hyper fixated on how his length disappears every time your hips slam down on him. His body twitches with pleasure, the restraints leaving bruises on his wrists as he continuously jerks at them, annoyed whines turning into frustrated growls the closer he is to cumming.

‘’Y/N, let me loose, I want to fuck you so so bad, please..I promise I’ll fuck you so good.’’

You slow down, procrastinating both of your orgasms, watching his growing frustration turning into aggression. He was so riled up, and as he promised, you were sure he was going to fuck you good if you release him from the cuffs.

He’d earned it, and you craved it... 

‘’Okay, bun. I’ll expect you to make me cum with your cock. Or I won’t let you loose next time.’’ You playfully taunted him, and he felt the corner of his lips tug at your words.

The very second the click of his cuffs echoed, falling from his wrists, he lunged at you with such force that you yelped. He swiftly handled your body with his strength, flipping you over to your stomach. He pulled at your hips, ass up, before shoving his cock back into you, giving you no time to prep yourself on your elbows before he started to fuck you with the utmost greed. 

‘’Oh god, yes, Jungkook!’’ You moan his name, cheek pressing against the soft duvet as you allowed him to use your body this time around, body jolting forward with every thrust.

‘’Gonna c-cum, keep fucking me!’’

Jungkook initially had planned for himself to be able to hold himself from cumming until he’d made you cum first, but it was easier said than done with the absolutely sinful sounds you made, the way your body jiggled with every snap of his hips… Fuck, it was too much.

‘’Fuck, fuck, fuck, no…god, I--’’ Jungkook gasped, cursing through gritted teeth as his hips stuttered, his cum gushing into you-- so, so much, he’d been edged for so long that everything built up flushed out with his release. It was overwhelming, but your moaning spurred him to keep fucking into you through his orgasm-- ignoring the oversensitivity to the best of his ability, he wanted you to cum so badly.

‘’Please, noona, cum-- I can’t, I can’t, I fucking, ah…’’ Jungkook sobbed, gnashing his teeth together as his hips went into a frenzy, fucking into you with his still rigid length, cum sloshing inside of you with every thrust. Most of it dribbled down your thigh and pooled at the sheets, being forced out from your cunt as he fucked you.

As on cue, you hid your face in the duvet, gasping out a silent cry, tugging at the bed. You came around his cock, body tensing up and trembling, the pattern of spasms of your fleshy walls squeezing his sensitive length so hard that he cursed out a high pitched moan.

Jungkook slowed down, breath heavy and in tandem with yours slowly coming back down to normalcy. He winced when he pulled himself off of you to lay down, wrapping his arms around you in a sweaty hug. You nuzzle up against his chest, pressing a little kiss on his chin when he glanced down at you.

‘’Did I do well, noona?’’ He asked, hand mindlessly rubbing down your flushed back.

‘’You did so well, my bun.’’ You praised, looking back up at him again, reaching to brush away his overgrown fringe from his eyes.

‘’Such a good, pretty boy.’’

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

[violetnotez]

Can I request a storyline where reader and Ms. Joke gives advice to each other to ask their crushes out. (Reader crushing on Bakugou and Ms. Joke likes Eraserhead). Also I love your Dabi fic it's so damn amazing.

Anon I know this took so long but I loved this idea ALOT. Like-literally GENIUSSSSSSSS!!!! And omg I’m so happy you liked my Dabi fics!!!🥺😭

Another fic for the @bnhabookclub event! If you wanna join in, heres the link!

Also pls ignore that Ms Jokes shoulder has disappeared I forgot to fix it 💀

Bakugo x reader

⤷ Genre: Fluff

⤷ Word Count: 2000+

⤷ Warnings: cursing

⤷ Synopsis: As your helping your hero aunt Ms. Joke concoct a plan to win over Eraserhead, the conversation somehow turns to your crush on Bakugo. Even though you feel comfortable talking about the hotheaded boy with your aunt over the phone, you don’t realize how bad that idea is until a certain someone decided to eavesdrop outside the door.

Song Recs: ⤷ Leave This Place-Lione ⤷All This Time-Deorro ⤷Start It Over-NOTD

“Okay okay, how about this one-

“Can you pass me my inhaler, because you just took my breath away!”

Ms. Joke made an over exaggerated attempt at swooning, her voice airy and theatrical. You couldn’t help but giggle at her antics, your nose scrunching at the terrible pick up line she just gave you.

“I don’t think that one will work Auntie,” you mused, your phone on speaker as you tidied up your UA dorm room.

Not many people were aware of it, but your aunt was Ms. Joke, the comedy hero. It was quite a shocker when you let that information out to your classmates, as they couldn’t understand why you had went to UA over her hero school. It was true you had entertained the idea of going, but as much as you loved your aunt-you could only tolerate her for so long. She was so fun and energetic to be around, but that energy quickly became draining after a few hours.

The thought of having to be around your aunt every day made you feel tired just thinking about it, so you had kindly opted to try UA instead. Your aunt was a little disappointed that you had picked UA over her school, but she was over the moon excited for you to finally follow her footsteps and become a hero.

It also didn’t hurt that you would be around Aizawa quite a lot-and she definitely used that to her advantage.

“Oh Cmon tho, Jitter Bug, he would love it!” She exclaimed through the phone. “That one is such a laugh riot!”

“I think you forget that Mr. Aizawa isn’t too big on jokes,” you gave her a short giggle as you began to fold the freshly cleaned clothes on your bed.

“Hm….” she hummed in thought.

“What about-I’m thirsty, and guess whose body is 75% water? I’d then give him a killer smile to go along with it-he can’t say no to me then!”

Your cheeks turned incredibly red-the thought of your aunt hitting on your teacher so openly like that? Revolting.

You made a gagging noise at the prospect, a nervous laugh spilling out.

“I swear if you do that, I will dig my own grave and lay in there from second hand embarrassment,”

A belly laugh erupted in the other end of the line, Ms. Joke’s chuckles high pitched and uncontrollable.

“You really are a hard one to impress, huh?” She said between laughter.

“That type of pick up line is a little too young though-you babies are the ones that say ‘thirsty’ all the time…”

You heard a little hum on the other side of the phone, signaling she was thinking deeply.

“Why don’t you use that one on that boy you like, what’s his name again?”

She asked good naturedly, a hint of sneakiness in her voice. “It’s-Bakugo, Katsuki Bakugo, right?”

Your eyes went wide like saucers, your body language going rigid.

“Auntie you cant say that so loud, I’m on speaker phone!” You hushed her.

Your cheeks went insanely red, your head swiveling to look at your door.

Damn you and not closing it properly-anybody walking by could have heard!

Your aunt only knew about your crush because she had noticed you staring quite intently at Bakugou at your provisional licensing exam, her questions hard to not answer truthfully. She had promised not to tell anyone, not even your parents, but she used it against you nevertheless.

You sighed a breath of relief once you were satisfied that no one had walked by, your head turning back to your phone call.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

Unknowing to you, someone had walked by-Bakugo.

It was later in the day and getting close to his early bedtime, so he had come up to tell you to be quiet.

It felt strange walking up to your room-Bakugo knew he was beginning to like you, more than just a classmate or a friend, yet he didn’t quite want to believe it.

He shouldn’t have all these vulnerable feelings, he should be focusing on training and nothing more. But the more and more he tried to ignore it the more and more he realized how much he truly admired you-you were so damn pretty to him, your laugh and smile always making a blush rise to his cheeks, and the way you would look at him so innocently whenever he spoke to you made his whole world light up.

He liked how you respected him, but you would also put him in his place if needed.You were really one of the few only people he would listen to, which made it even worse-you had a power over him you didn’t even know about. It frustrated him, but he cared about your opinion too damn much to openly defy your wishes.

It sucked how easily he’d fallen for you, but he couldn't make it stop, no matter how hard he tried.

Just as he trudged up the stairs to your room, he noticed the door unlocked, a strange thing for him to see since he had prepared himself to knock. Whatever-less time waiting outside your door. He lightly leaned himself against the adjacent wall, ready to yell his warning at you quickly until he heard the familiar voice of Ms. Joke speak his name from a phone call.

The hell were you even talking about?

He couldn’t help it, he had to listen in, it was him you were talking about after all. As much as he didnt want to care, he hoped it was only good things you were speaking of, his heart fluttering when he heard your aunt say “you like him.”

Was it true? Did you really feel the same for him?

Bakugo instantly felt himself to sweat, his vermillion eyes wide as he prayed the news he was hearing wasn’t a lie-you had to like him back. You just had to.

Ms. Joke laughed at your distress, her voice lighthearted and loud.

“Oops, sorry!” She said, not a single ounce of remorse in her tone. “But really, y/n, what do you see in that boy! He’s so-well-“

“Harsh?” You finished her sentence, shuffling on your bed.

“Exactly! He’s always so mean and entitled too-you can’t find another boy in UA? What about Shoto-hes a pretty one!”

You gave a giggle, your hands fiddling nervously with your hair.

“Shoto is just a friend Auntie, and besides, he’s quite reserved-Bakugo isn’t,” you sighed, “Ive never meant anyone like him before.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

Bakugo’s heart beat painfully in his chest from outside the door.

This was fucking wrong-he was being a total creepster eaves dropping in your private conversation.

He kept telling himself that this was all okay, because you were talking about him and it was your goddamn fault for speaking about him behind his back-

But he knew deep down it was because he wanted so badly to know. He just wanted to be reassured that there was a connection between you two and he could pursue it somehow.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

“He’s just so-different. He is really harsh and brutally honest-it makes him kinda unique in a way. He’s always so driven, trying to do his best to be the best-it’s infectious, ya know? I can't help but admire him for that.”

you admired him? god, hearing those words sent him over the moon. You sounded so sweet and so soft as you relayed all your inner feelings to Ms. Joke, his heart was practically swooning.

Your aunt gave a small nod at your words, her voice much more understanding.

“Have you talked to him? Tried to ask him out or do anything you little kiddies usually do when you have a crush?” She asked playfully.

You sighed, your hands combing through your hair.

“Oh I could never! He wouldn’t like me back-he’s too into his school work. And he is super harsh-god I don’t know what I’d do if he’d reject me….”

“I understand you full heartedly JitterBug,” she used your nickname again, a groan slipping out of your lips.

“Are you yiu ever going to stop calling me that!”

“Never!” She exclaimed, her voice loud and cheerful again. “Your my wonderful little JitterBug and I’m going to keep calling you that until I kick the bucket!

“But really,” she sighed, her tone much more serious. “You never know until you try! I got rejected myself many, many, MANY times-but Im still doing perfectly fine!”

You held back a small snicker-your aunt, the Jokester Hero, who can’t hold a conversation without cackling like a maniac, the one who wears the most ridiculous outfits, has a chaotic fighting style, and has been pinning over the same guy since her internship days as a rookie?

Yeah, perfectly fine isn’t the best way you would describe her.

You simply hummed a nod in order to satiate her a response, a small smile gracing your lips.

“Ugh, I just got a call-they need me to help out with some robbery,” you aunt huffed out, her tone clearly tired. You felt a little bad for the hero-she must have been having a pretty crazy day.

“I’m sorry we had to cut our call so short!”

“Oh no it’s no problem!” You reasuresed her happily, “stay safe out there!”

“You two Jitterbug! Byeeeee!” She practically yelled her goodbye into the phone, making you flinch.

You breathed a tranquil sigh, readying yourself to start studying for your tests when you heard a loud banging upon your door.

“Oi, dumbass, can I come in for a minute?” The gruff voice of Bakugo filled the room, making your blood shiver-

Bakugo?!? Wait-was he there the whole time?!?

You teeth were practically chattering from that overwhelming fear, your cheeks red and your eyes wide.

You seriously were going to crawl into a hole and never come out if he heard that whole conversation.

You crawled off your bed, your hand making their way to the door to peak it open slightly.

Bakugo’s heart was thumping violently in his chest-now he knew you felt the same for him, this was going to be extremely easy. But he still felt really nervous, especially when your hair was so perfectly messy like that and your cheeks were dusted with pink like you were already nervous yourself.

God damn, why did you have to be so attractive? It just messed everything up for him, making him feel like he couldn’t think straight.

“Hey Bakugo, I-Uh-what’s up? Did you need something?”

“Yeah,” he replied gruffly, his nerves making his hand sweat more than usual. “something like that,”

Damn quirk, he thought in annoyance, shoving his hands into his pants. “You gonna let me in?”

“Oh-uh,”you began to stutter, shifting away from the door and opening it up slightly, “sure, yeah!”

He grinned to himself at your adorableness-did you always act this nervous around him? How did he not notice you like him before-it was so obvious to see now when you were fidgeting like that.

He strutted into your room, a new found confidence in him as he shut the door of the room for you, practically trapping you in with him. A mischievous smirk graced his lips, making your heart thump against your ribcage.

“Don’t want anyone overhearing by accident cause you cant close a door right,���

You groaned in embarrassment.

Welp-he knew.

You gave him a small look, your eyes doe -like and scrunched up in uneasiness.

“How much of that did you hear?” You asked timidly.

Bakugo scoffed, that shit eating grin still plastered on his face.

“All of it, Jitterbug,”

You groaned yet again, plopping your body onto the bed in embarrassment.

How could this happen?! He was right-you should have closed the door! You covered your face with your hands, your fingers trailing against your forehead and your hair.

“God I’m so sorry, I probably sounded like a creep, I didn’t mean to-“ you tried to apologize and explain yourself, your cheeks a cherry red.

“Do you like me?” He interrupted you, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

You looked up timidly-god, was he always this intimidating?

He was standing right in front you, his overwhelming stature making you feel so small and overpowered. He was wearing this strange smirk, as if he was enjoying interrogating you.

That usually wasn’t a Bakugo thing to do, to smirk like that, but damn, was it kinda-hot. You could really only focus on that, on the way his lips curled up so softly like he was happy about something but trying to repress it. It was warm and inviting, and you couldn’t help but feel some of your awkwardness melt away.

“How would you feel if I said ‘yes’?” You tried your best to lighten the mood some what, a nervous smile slipping against your lips.

Bakugo knelt down, his body so much more closer to you. His hands went on each side of your legs, his thumbs just brushing your outer thigh. He caged you in to the bed with his arms, his face mere inches from yours.

Well shit.

You felt the blood rush to your face, your ears pounding-you never knew he felt this warm so close, and god-did he really smell like salted caramel? His vermillion eyes were boaring to yours, sending your senses into over drive.

“And how would it feel if I said ‘yes’?” He turned your words against you, his voice husky and deep form being so close.

You squirmed from nerves, your hands going to play with your hair. It was so strange being so close to him, and you didn’t know what to do.

You looked so cute flustered like this-Bakugo internally tried to remember this perfectly, mentally writing down your adorable mannerisms and facial expression to memory. As much as he loved this, you were taking too long for a reply, and he was getting a little annoyed.

“What was that? I’m still waiting,” he asked gruffly, his voice low and sultry.

You gulped, feeling a pang in your heart from hearing that type of voice come from him. Directed to you.

“I-Uh-yes, I-I do, I've liked you for a while now,” you revealed, your cheeks practically tomato red.

He smirked at your expression, slowly lifting his body with off the weight.

You looked up in confusion, already feeling cold without his warm body so close to yours.

“Good,” he replied, his voice prideful, “cause I feel the same way.”

“You do!” You practically shouted, your eyes wide with shock.

The Bakugo-“liked you” liked you? You could practically scream with happiness.

“Well yeah dumbass, why would I say that if I didn’t?” He chuckled slightly, his bright red eyes still drinking you in.

Now his nerves were coming out again, a heaviness feeling his stomach as he realized what he had to do now.

“I-I’m not good at this shit, but-

“Wanna go out tomorrow?”

You were practically screaming like a little girl internally. This was happening? Was this all just a cruel dream?

Only one way to figure out if this was real or not.

You stood up from the bed, bringing yourself close to the hot head.

Now it was Bakugo’s turn to be embarrased-he was getting too comfortable being the one to make you nervous. He forgot how you could make him so flustered, your warm smile and pretty eyes making his heart thump painfully and his mind go into a panicked standstill.

Your hands shakily wrapped around his neck, slow to see how he would react.

God, you had thought about touching his hair for so long now, it was even better than you imagined-soft and fluffy like a cloud, you ran your hands through the spiky locks. The faint smell of caramel wafted into your nose agaun, making you feel nervous and calm at the same time.

He was slightly rigid, staring at you with shocked eyes-but he seemed to not mind this. You smiled softly, your heart thumping-it was now or never.

You slowly got on your toes and leaned yourself into his lips, surprised how warm they felt. At first he didn’t move, which scared you-but he eventually began to move against your lips, a little rough but still pleasant. A flood of warmth filled your body, your hands relaxing against his body. You felt his arms wrap around your body, his lips now taking the lead and guiding you into him.

You couldn’t believe how good this felt, how perfect and surreal it was.

But you remembered-sadly- breathing was a thing, your lungs burning as you both reluctantly pulled away.

You thanked your aunt for her loud mouth in your blissful daze, because without her, you wouldn’t be kissing your crush now.

You smiled at the blonde, his cheeks dusted with red and his eyes drinking you in.

“Tomorrow sounds great.”

[cheesy09]

Did I Find You? Kiro x MC Fanfic

This is my own variation on the events that take place in Chapter 19 of Kiro’s route. Or more like... my fantasies T_T.  Although I didn’t intend to, it came out a lot angstier than I expected so be prepared. Also, this is my first time writing fanfiction so I’m sorry if the characters end up being a little OOC. Don’t be shy to send your feedback. It would really help improve my writing.

Spoilers for Chapter 19 of the game and Kiro’s Stardust Date. If you haven’t read these two things yet than you probably won’t understand whats going on here. 

Tagging all my lovely Kiro/Helios lovers out there @kudoriee, @thatfanfictionchick, @truth-be-told-im-lying and @pickle-scribbles whose stories inspired me to start writing fanfiction. Thank you, you guys, for being so amazing! Even if I could never dream about writing smut.  

Anyway, without further ado, Enjoy!

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

“Kiro!” I shouted, bursting through the door that opened onto the roof top.

He turned, a trace of shock flashing through his clear, pure eyes, but fading just as fast.

“Miss Chips, what are you doing here--woah!”

I didn’t give him a chance to finish, grabbing his hand and dragging him back inside, my heart racing with urgency. Images from my dream flashed through my mind. The endless white, the mist, and me-- groping around like a blind man seeking desperately for his long-lost light. If I hadn’t had that dream, would I have been able to find him? I shivered involuntarily at the thought. His palm that was usually so warm, was now a stone cold, which only caused my anxiety to rise. I tightened my grip on his long, slender fingers as I continued pulling him along to the elevator.

“O-ouch, Miss Chips! You’re hurting me!” Kiro winced slightly, but that didn’t make me loosen my grip. I was much too afraid to find out what would happen if I did.

Afraid that… if I loosened them, even a bit, he would slip right through my fingers and I’d lose him forever.

“Miss Chips, where are we going?” His irresistible voice sounded in my ear, finally making me turn to look at him. His perfect eyebrows were scrunched together in confusion, forming worried lines on his glistening brow. His gorgeous, deep blue eyes that I’d constantly find myself drowning in, reflected an unusual sense of melancholy for some reason. But I couldn’t bring myself to feel sorry for him this time.

“Home.” My voice sounded a lot harsher than I’d meant it to. In all the time that I had been with him, I’d rarely ever gotten mad at Kiro. He was the warmth and light of my life. The boy whose charming, unreserved laughter could light up a whole room. Whose smile was like a beacon in the dark. Sure, there were times where I’d find myself getting annoyed when he’d take his teasing a little too far, but Kiro never got me riled up enough for me to lash out at him.

Yet this time, the stunt he’d pulled managed to push my buttons to the max. Anger boiled in me like hot magma threatening to burst out. Savin’s anxious tone and the cold, electronic voice that had rung through my ears when I had dialed Kiro’s number this morning had thrown me into a panic like I’d never felt before. It had felt like I was on the verge of losing my mind. “How could you just run off on your own like that? Savin and everyone else have been look for you, you know?!”

The elevator doors opened and I stepped inside, pulling him along, my hand still clutching his own as if my very life depended on it. The elevator doors shut behind us.

I thought I wouldn’t get a reply, but after a few seconds his voice drifted through the air, carrying with it a grim heaviness I’d never heard from him before.

“I’ll explain things to Savin and the others later,” he said. “But before I do… can I ask you something?” Kiro didn’t wait for my answer and instead just tugged on my arm to make me face him. His seraphic face entered my vision, and all of my previous anger was instantly blown out of my system.

“…If I wasn’t Kiro the superstar anymore, would you still like me, Miss Chips? Would you still… think of me?”

My whole body froze as his words sunk in. This had been a question that he’d asked me countless of times… and every time, my answer was the same.

In a burst of annoyance, I brought my middle finger to his forehead and flicked it.

Kiro let out a cry of pain as he took a step back from me and rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. The wide-eyed shock and confusion with which he looked at me actually made me feel a little better about myself. Then, I caught his slightly red cheeks between my palms and brought him down to face me, pressing my forehead against his own like the way he’d do to me, those countless times in the past.

“I told you, it doesn’t matter who you are and what kind of life you have, you will always be ‘Kiro’ to me and I will always think of you,” I said firmly, hoping to brand my words and my feelings into his mind and heart.

“You...” 

I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was the way his breath caught in his throat, or the way a spark of doubt flashed through his shimmering, azure eyes, but in a bold moment of impulsiveness, I lifted myself onto my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his own.

Kiro’s entire body went rigid as a tiny gasp escaped his lips, as if his mind couldn’t process what was happening at that very moment. But after a few seconds, I felt his body cave, his hands grabbing my hips and pinning me against the wall, pressing his whole body against me. One of my hands found purchase on the back of his neck while the other held on to the scarf wrapped around his neck, tugging him closer and closer, like I was trying to brand his body with my own.

His lips were as soft as I remembered them, but there was no tenderness or gentleness to this kiss. It was ravenous, desperate and stripped me of my ability to think straight. Our mouths moved against each other with an urgent need, like a dance of our own, in sync and in heat, drinking each other in.

When I felt the familiar warmth of his tongue brush against my own, I was taken back to that night of the concert, when he’d kissed me just like this and asked me to come look for him, if he ever got lost. At that time, I never really understood what he meant when he said ‘come look for me,’ but now I think I do.

Did I find you, Kiro? Was I able to bring you back?

As our lips continued to move against each other, Kiro brought up his right hand to brush against my flushed ears and I let out a soft moan into his mouth.

That seemed to bring him back to reality.

All of sudden, Kiro broke away from the kiss, his harsh, heated breaths mixing with my own. Our foreheads were still pressed together, noses brushing and chests heaving against each other. “Now do you understand?” I whispered, ghosting my lips over his, making him shiver. “No matter who you are, I will always like you.”

Kiro let out a light chuckle as he buried his face in my shoulders, his fluffy blonde hair tickling my neck. He didn’t say anything and neither did I. We were content on just holding each other, and perceiving each other’s existence through our shared body heat. But after a few minutes, Kiro’s soft voice cut through the silence.

“I’m sorry.”  

It was like a bucket of ice-cold water had been poured on me. Images flashed through my mind as I was overcome with a sense of déjà vu. I seemed to remember silver hair, a pair of gold eyes, these same familiar arms, this same broken voice, the same feelings of anguish and despair and the same sensation of tears running down my face.

Before I even had time to react, Kiro grabbed me by shoulders and pushed me back, staring at me with a determined look on his face.

Only this time, his eyes were a blazing gold.

“I command you—”

   When the elevator had finally reached the bottom, there was only one person who stepped out, while the other remained behind, the doors sliding shut on the vision of his bitter smile.

I walked out of the building in a daze, the commotion of the traffic loud in my ears. Static seemed to blanket the other parts of my memory, only one thing coming through clearly.

I hailed a taxi and told the driver the only thing that was on my mind.

“Driver, I want to go home.”

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

Thank you so much for reading. If you’re interested in checking out my other works, you’ll find them in my Masterlist

[bigwriterenergy]

risotto nero x reader

@zsaddy​​ asked: “Can I get something fluffy with Kars or Risotto ? Either one is fine, thank you 😊”

hello!! i write for risotto! im rewatching battle tendency rn so maybe expect kars in the near future? idk .. but yes! ty for the request!!

it was uncommon to discover you or anyone apart of squadra esecuzioni dressed so charmingly, but here you were. naturally, your change in typical attire brought about an attitude change with the men within your squad as well. many remarks flew past your ears, all of them genuine and kind -- you knew that if any other man had been pestering you with compliments all day, you'd throw a damn fit -- but melone's "di molto!" or pesci's gushing over your outfit seemed so sweet and honest, how could you even be upset? there was just one man in particular who was being a bit stingy with his opinions.

the reasoning behind such uncharacteristic change was simply because of the party that your squad was soon to attend. sadly, it had nothing to do with your job within passione, but rather, something to do with passione and your squad needing to make an appearance. unfortunately, the man who you yearned to comment on your appearance remained eerily silent. you even attempted to show off! a bend here, a squat there -- none of your salacious, fluid movements stirred anything from the man you considered to be your "boyfriend." could you even call him that? the relationship was novel and grand, a flurry of unreleased emotions and unspoken passions. you could count the number of times you two had kissed on your fingers. -- he still intimidated and enticed you all the same.

the thought pounded in your head as you traveled back towards the main room of the hideout. the orange illumination stained the wooden room a faint, artistic color; it signified that the time of the party approached. a sigh pulled from painted lips as you opened the door to the parlor. risotto nero came into view, lounged on the couch and his focus entirely concentrated onto a screen's white light that kissed his already pale skin. it seemed he had changed since last you saw him; risotto now wore a tailored suit, a typical black-and-white get up. normally, you'd compliment him on such commendable attire, but prior grievances skillfully crept back into your mind. a simple 'hmph' left your lips as you caught and broke his gaze all in the same breath. he immediately noticed the change.

frustration, naturally, raced through your core. he hadn't even complimented or acknowledged that you appeared different. did he just not notice? did he not think you looked any better? you swallowed thickly and pushed forward, venturing to the coatrack to grasp at the coat that belonged to you. your back was soon to the man. "you ready to head out?" you decide to speak, but your voice hid little from him. the edge within each syllable danced mockingly. "i bet there will be lots of food at the party. no need to get something to eat, i don't think. i'll meet you there, i guess." the wood shifted behind you; a telling sign that the man had roused. probably ignoring you as he had all day. as you turned, you were met with his looming figure, easily casting a shadow over your dwarfed one. a cautionary step backward was taken at his new proximity, your expression easily revealed your immediate shock to the sudden presence. the smell of choice cologne infiltrated your senses -- it seems he had put effort into his appearance. you swallowed again, the throb of your heartbeat began to pound in your ears. unique eyes would watch your reaction to his approach and narrow. you knew this to be his thinking expression: what his scowl, it wasn't always to obvious what was rattling within his head.

risotto didn't want to appear too harsh. melone's advice rung in his ears. so he straightened his spine, returning his usually bad, loose posture to that of a rigid, upright stance. your stares met, mouths gaping to share a similar breath. why must every meeting with risotto, alone, be so intense? everything about your beloved was all so chilling. the silence was broken by his voice, low and completely invasive. "you're upset with me, aren't you?" he asks you outright. you blink in response, recalling your prior anger. with just his very presence, you forget nearly all things bad about this man. you decided to speak (comparable to a squeak) in response. "well, yeah --" you admit. "a little. you've hardly spoken to me all day and .. i don't mean to sound needy or anything, but you haven't said one thing about my outfit. i kind of wore it to show off to you .." there was no response to your slightly embarrassing words. at least not to the normal eye. but you noticed the slight gape of his lips, allowing heavier breath to release. "you wore it to show off to me?" risotto repeats your words, inspiring the flush to your cheeks to beat harder and leading you to believe how stupid it sounds. he seems almost in disbelief and wanting to grasp a better understanding of your feelings. thoughtfulness lingered in every word as his attention drifted past your eyes to the wall behind you. a tic he had whenever he slipped into this state of mulling. "i .. didn't think you'd want me to say anything, to be honest. i don’t want to treat you all that different from the other members.” such a thought nearly made you frown, but his continuation of speech was certainly unexpected. “do you want to know how i feel about how you look now? it's all good, if you’re worried." the return of his focus onto your eyes revealed all he needed to know.

you nearly trembled at the thought of all the opinions that raced through risotto's mind. "ahh, maybe later." you finally manage. he almost smirks at this.

the brawn of his fingers happily connect to your waistline, drawing you back to the eyes that took in every twitch of your expression. a light force was given, pulling you closer to the coolness of his figure. his thick eyelashes obstructed most of the intensity of his irises. risotto was so captivating -- a true piece of art. while he wasn't the most affectionate man, there were moments when even the smallest touch made your thigh press together feverishly. the palm of his hand burned through the thin material of your dress. "alright. ‘maybe later’ then." the response is a mere whisper, intimate and hungry, resonating deep within your swelling chest. his deep voice swirled around your mind, pulling you deeper into a tar pit of affection for your squad's leader. the shuffle of fabric is ignored as you gush over the man. his next set of words settle the moment before it descends further into any indecency. " .. party is in an hour. i'll drive. let's go." curt and authoritative as always. the prior suaveness that he held seemed whisked quickly away when business returned. he had to make an early appearance, you remember him saying. he wasn't much a mingler, but with his dream of becoming a capo disclosed to you: you understood why. you nodded, absent-mindedly as he pulled away, expecting you to follow.

you could only wonder what embarrassing things he had to say once you two were in solidarity once again.

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Request: Let’s Go Home (Alec Volturi x Reader)

You swallowed hard, lip quivering and your hand shaking as it held the phone to your ear. The forest rustling in the breeze in front of you in the dead of night. The receptionist was surprised but put you on hold until Alec picked up the phone.  "(Y/N)?" You tried to speak beyond the lump in your throat. "I-" Your voice cracked and you took a deep breath. "Sweet-face? Are you okay?" "I-im coming to see you." You said quietly. "I'm just about to board the plane." "Alright, is everything-" you heard your flight being called. "Alec, I'm sorry, I've got to go. I'm about to board. I'll be there soon." "Alright." He said quietly. "I'll see you soon." 

You were deep in thought for the whole plane ride, that was when you weren't sleeping. The receptionist recognised you but she wasn't expecting you. It was evident in her face. You dropped your bag and the emotions began to well up all over again. Your breathing was slightly ragged as you tried to contain yourself to ask the receptionist to send for Alec. However before you could Alec turned the corner. 

He immediately locked eyes with the receptionist before making a gesture, dismissing her. She immediately left as quick as she possibly could. You immediately moved forward quickly moving towards him before your tears could spill over. Alec stopped, getting a good look to see if you were hurt. To see you upset, immediately worried him. You immediately moved into his arms trying to muffle your cries against his shoulder. "What is it?" Alec tried to pull back, to look at you but you wouldn't let him, holding him tighter. "(Y/N), what's wrong?" You didn't answer and Alec finally hugged you back. "Please, tell me...!" Alec was beginning to grow panicked. 

You didn't seem to calm down and so Alec took you to the balcony in his room, a soft breeze of cool air brushing past. "Breathe." Alec held you to him, your back against his chest. "Just breathe, sweet-face." After some time you began to calm down. "The Cullen's they're...they're really angry with me." 

You told Alec how you tried to be understanding, how you tried to fix things with them but they weren't so forgiving themselves. In fact, they almost completely withdrew from you. After some time, it really got to you. Spending so much time feeling like you were walking on eggshells with them and feeling you were totally alone finally got to you that you confronted Bella. Edward in turn got involved and soon the situation escalated to the whole family. Except for Carlisle and Esme, who didn't seem present with you.  Alec kissed the shell of your ear. "None of this is your fault." You turned to face him. "I don't know what to do-" You said through your tears. "I know." Alec assured you. "Come on." Alec wiped your tears. "Breathe, smile, and charm. It's what you do best." He planted a kiss to the side of your head. "Don’t worry about the Cullen's." 

Alec was livid but didn't want to cause you anymore distress and so kept it from you. He knew what that feeling was likely and he couldn't take his love feeling it. He made it known the Volturi would be dealing with this through discussions but this wouldn't continue. However, you weren't allowed to know what was said. 

You shifted nervously, looking at the doors leading to the outside world. Alec tugged you to look at him, fixing you up and brushing away any specks he could see that you most certainly couldn’t.  “Do i have to go back?” You asked. “Just for a little while, they’re going to change you and as soon as your under control, you’ll be back with me.” Alec said softly. You cast your gaze to the ground, still uncertain. Alec lifted your chin. “I want to hear from you, alright? Everything will be okay.” Alec looked around before pressing a kiss to your lips.  “I love you, okay?” Alec whispered in your ear before planting another kiss on your lips. “I’ll see you very soon.” You nodded. Alec pulled you into hug, sparing only a second to kiss your cheek. 

Carlisle had agreed to change you and look after you. Although you didn’t want to face how awkward things would be after your argument with them. Could you really feel safe if they didn’t even understand you? 

After some time being back in the Cullen home, Carlisle and Esme asked to speak with you privately. Carlisle sat opposite you with Esme sitting with him, the two linked by the hands. It was a very casual pose but reminded you that Alec wasn’t here to comfort you.  “We hate that you left on such bad terms with us, it wasn’t our intention to make you feel judged or that we don’t care about you but we completely understand that may be how we came across. For that Esme and I deeply apologise on behalf of our family.” Carlisle began.  “Rose, Edward, Alice and Jasper care about you and it is very regrettable that they spoke to you with such harsh words and even so that we didn’t intervene. It was wrong of us.” Esme shifted slightly, leaning forward towards you. “You depended on us and we misjudged the situation. We are deeply sorry.” Carlisle also leaned forward. “We can’t say we approve as we are concerned for you, but we are willing to support you regardless and we don’t want to make you think we aren’t here from you. This is different and we’re willing to try and adjust.” You nodded. “I’m sorry too, i shouldn’t have reacted the way I did and i shouldn’t have disrespected you. You do so much for me already.”  “Now, I was given a request by the Volturi to have you changed. Are you aware of this?” Carlisle asked. You nodded. “I was told before i left the castle.  “And you’re comfortable with me doing this?” You nodded again. “Yeah. I trust you.” 

You had totally underestimated this, after you were changed everything was so loud, you were starving, your throat was excruciatingly dry and it burned immensely. You tugged at your hair. Animal blood wasn’t enough, you were so hungry. You were losing your mind and the Cullen’s weren’t helping. You don’t know what came over you but you threw yourself out of Edward’s window, ravenous. All sense of self was totally gone and you couldn’t stop running. 

Jane walked briskly to the throne room, returning from reception. “Alec.” She spoke. “That was the Cullen’s (Y/N) ran away.”  “It’s been a month since they were changed!” Alec scowled.  “Apparently the mind-reader heard they were starving. They were gone before anyone could catch them, they’re too fast.”  “I’ll gather a group. Felix, you alert the masters. You two better get ready if we’re going to catch them.” Demetri said before hurried away. Alec jumped into action, he was worried but that only fueled him to find you. Demetri gathered twelve, including the four of them and just like that he was tracking you and the hunt was on.

You could hear them and see the blur of black in the distance. You growled and in a matter of seconds, they were surrounding you. Black cloaks worn by vampires poised and ready to lunge if you tried anything. Suddenly their leaders appeared, Felix and Demetri along with another familiar face. One you had missed dearly. "Don't hurt them!" Alec ordered immediately with a snarl as the guards surrounded you. You let out a growl. "Yes, I know sweet-face. Everything is okay." Alec said slowly. "Give up on me. I'm not who I used to be. I'm a monster. The things that I've done- I'm so hungry-" "I won't change my mind about you." Alec said immediately. "I love you. I'm sorry but I do." "Don't make promises you can't keep." You said sharply. "Why are you being like this?" Alec asked. "Tell me." You faltered slightly. "I'm scared." "Of me? Of us? I want to keep you safe." Alec began. "No." You shook your head. I mean yeah, but I'm scared of myself. I-I can't control myself." You looked around you. "I know and I can help you. If you come with me, you won't have to worry. It'll be like nothing happened, we’ll get rid of that thirst of yours and go from there. Alright?" "Come with you? Where?" You repeated. "Trust me." Alec said, his hands outstretched. You were surprised at how concerned he looked. "Why?" You began but Alec interrupted you. "Well someone has to take care of you." Alec cracked a small smile. "Clearly the Cullen's are useless. So come to me." You wore a look of uncertainty, your eyes glancing to the guards surrounding you. "Eyes on me, sweet-face. They won't hurt you. I’m here now. Come." Alec paused, noting your expression. "Let me protect you." He pressed. "I won't let anything happen to you." He reached out to you. "Come to me, sweet-face." After a moment you slowly stepped forward, eyeing the other guards who were still. You took another step and a couple more hesitant steps. You were in Alec's reach and he pulled you gently into his arms. "That's it." He whispered in your ear. "Don't be afraid. I'm going to take care of you, alright?" You let him guide you away.

”You’re hungry, sweet-face.” Alec rubbed your back soothingly. “Let me help, okay? Don’t torment yourself.”  “I’m so hungry but- i can’t- what if i can’t stop and kill so many people?”  “Don’t think about that. I’ll be right here with you. One is enough. I promise.” He pulled you with him to a secluded alley where a body was waiting for you. “He won’t feel it, he’s already dead.”  “He’s still warm...was he- did-?”  “Demetri disposed of him, he’ll be back when you’re done.” Alec explained. 

You were rigid as the two of you knelt in front of the dead man. Alec’s hand stayed on your back. “He’s all yours. I won’t intervene.”  “I-I can’t.”  “I’m right here, it’s okay. Let go. Trust me.”  Alec said. You couldn’t fight your instincts any longer as you hovered over his neck and bit down.  “That’s it, sweet-face.” Alec said soothingly. 

After a few minutes you were done. You put your hand to your throat. The burning was still there but less intense, relief washed over you. Alec pulled you into his side. “That’s better isn’t it? You look less uncomfortable.” You stared at the body.  “Come and walk with me.” Alec stood you up and wrapped an arm around you to walk side by side with him. After a minute you spoke up.“I don’t know how to feel about that. That man...I don’t know how i feel.”  “Do you feel better now that you’ve fed?” Alec asked, turning his gaze to you. You nodded. “Then focus on that. This is how to survive, there is many painful ways to die-you feeding isn’t one of them.”  “What do i do now?” You whispered.  “Come with me.” Alec watched your reaction.  “Where?”  “To Italy. Stay with me.” You frowned in confusion.” Newborns can't-”  “I know but i can’t depend on anyone to look after you.” Alec pulled you closer to him. “Come home to me.”  “Will it get you in trouble?”  “No, not given the situation. You could be a liability otherwise in their eyes.” Slowly you nodded. “Only if you won’t get in trouble.”