#quick sketch before I clocked in

[pepemoon]

head empty just tommy taking tubbos body measurement for lmanberg uniform

[marvyu]

MIDNIGHT INK

pairings. jungkook x female reader genre(s). smut,fluff

summary. a faded tattoo marks your heartbreak. desperate for a fresh start, you visit Jungkook, a trusted tattoo artist and secret confidant you secretly love.

warnings. explicit language, sexual themes, past relationships, heartbreak, and emotional healing, swearing, unprotected sex, lots of kissing, oral sex, missionary position, and implied consensual rough sex.

sitting on your bed, you watched your reflection in the mirror, your fingers tracing the outline of the faded tattoo on your lower back. once a symbol of love, it had become a haunting reminder of heartbreak. you needed to rid yourself of it, something to signify a fresh start.

finally, you picked up your phone from the desk and called the one person you trusted implicitly.

"hello?"

"hey, before you leave, can i get a quick one done on my lower back?" you asked hesitantly. "trying to get a cover-up."

"yeah, sure, be here by eleven-thirty, okay?"

"alright, cool, thanks." you stayed silent for a minute, hoping he'd say more, but the call ended abruptly.

glancing at the clock, your eyes widened. it was 11:20. with a groan, you grabbed your keys and rushed out. the tattoo shop was only five minutes from your home, but october's chill and early darkness made the journey feel longer.

despite the recent breakup with your boyfriend, you always found yourself returning to him—jungkook. he was the man you confided in, sharing all your problems, including tales of your toxic relationship. though he listened, sometimes distant, you sensed he disliked hearing about your ex. yet, he was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on; truth be told, he was the reason you frequented the tattoo shop.

upon arrival, the sign's lights flickered at the entrance. taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open. jungkook looked up from his station, his sleeves rolled up, revealing his tattoo-covered arms. his dark, intense gaze swept over you, making your heart flutter.

"hey," he greeted, a slow smile spreading. "ready?"

you nodded, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. "yeah, thanks for staying late."

"no problem," he replied, his voice low and soothing. he gestured to the tattoo chair. "take a seat. let's see what we're working with."

as you settled into the chair, a mix of nerves and excitement coursed through you. jungkook moved with practised ease, gathering his tools and preparing the area.

"alright, let's take a look," he said calmly, lifting the back of your hoodie. his fingers brushed against your skin, lingering longer than necessary, sending a shiver down your spine.

jungkook's gaze flickered to yours, a hint of desire in his eyes before he focused back on your skin. "15th of… december… 2023," he murmured, staring at your tattoo.

embarrassed, you leaned your head against the seat. "yeah, that's when we started dating."

he hummed in response, studying the faded tattoo. "this will be a great cover-up. do you have a design in mind, or want me to freestyle something?"

"i trust you," you whispered. "just something that represents a new beginning."

jungkook nodded, his expression serious and thoughtful. "got it. i'll sketch something out quickly."

you watched as he worked, his hands moving swiftly and confidently. the room was filled with the soft hum of the neon sign outside and the quiet scratch of his pencil on paper. after a few minutes, he held up the sketch for you to see.

"how about this?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for approval.

the design was beautiful—delicate yet bold, perfectly capturing what you wanted. "it's perfect," you grinned.

"glad you like it. let's get started," he smiled.

he carefully transferred the design onto your skin, his touch sending another shiver through you. "ready?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that sent heat pooling in your stomach.

you nodded, unable to find your voice. the first touch of the needle was sharp but bearable. the pain quickly faded into the background, overshadowed by the sensation of jungkook's hands on your skin. each touch, each brush of his fingers, felt amplified in the intimate quiet of the shop.

jungkook worked with steady precision, his eyes never leaving your skin. "you're doing great," he murmured, his breath warm against your back. "just a little longer."

you tried to focus on the rhythm of his work, but your mind kept drifting to the closeness of his body and his hands' warmth. the tension between you was palpable, each minute passing in a haze of anticipation and desire. his fingers occasionally brushed against your skin in a way that felt more intentional than accidental, sending waves of heat coursing through you.

as the tattoo session continued, you found yourself mesmerized by the sensation of his touch. the combination of the late hour, the dim lighting, and the intimate nature of the session made every moment feel charged with electricity. you could feel the heat of his body close to yours, the soft brush of his breath on your skin.

"how does it feel?" he asked softly, his voice a soothing balm with a dark, underlying current.

"it's… it's good," you managed to reply, your voice shaking slightly. "thank you, jungkook."

he smiled, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "almost done. just hang in there."

the final strokes of the tattoo machine were almost a relief, though you couldn't deny the pang of disappointment at the thought of his touch ending. when he finally finished, jungkook leaned back to admire his work, his expression of satisfaction mixed with something deeper.

"all done," he said softly. "take a look."

you stood up and walked to the mirror, turning to see the new tattoo on your lower back. it was beautiful, a perfect cover-up that transformed an old regret into something new and meaningful.

"wow," you said, your voice filled with genuine awe. "i love it."

he stepped closer, his gaze intense and dark with unspoken desire. "i'm glad you like it," he said.

for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. it was just the two of you, standing in the quiet, dimly lit shop, the air thick with unspoken feelings and charged with undeniable tension.

"thank you," you whispered, your eyes locking with his.

jungkook's hand brushed against your cheek, and your heart skipped a beat. his touch was gentle yet firm, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your breath catch. "you're welcome," he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. "anytime."

as you stared into each other's eyes, the air between you seemed to crackle with electricity, the line between professional and personal blurring beyond recognition. the tension was almost unbearable, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, craving more.

jungkook's fingers trailed down your cheek to your neck, his touch igniting a fire within you. "you know," he said softly, his lips just inches from yours, "i've always been here for you. and i always will be."

his hand lingered on your neck, his thumb gently brushing your jawline as he stared into your eyes. the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine, and the air between you crackled with unspoken desire. you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat echoing the growing tension in the room.

"you have no idea how long i've wanted this," he whispered, his voice husky and filled with longing.

your breath hitched, and you leaned in closer without thinking, your lips just a breath away from his. the anticipation was almost unbearable, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body, drawing you in.

unable to resist any longer, you closed the distance, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss. jungkook responded immediately, his lips soft yet insistent against yours. the kiss deepened slowly, fueled by the weeks of suppressed desire and the intimate setting of the tattoo shop. his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further. the sensation was electric, sending waves of heat coursing through your body.

your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. the sensation of his heartbeat under your palm matched the frantic pace of your own. every touch, every movement was charged, making your skin tingle with anticipation.

jungkook broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he trailed kisses down your neck. "god, i've wanted this for so long," he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming over your back, tracing the newly inked tattoo.

you let out a soft moan, arching into his touch. "me too," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "i've wanted you for so long."

he pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and filled with desire as he looked at you. "then let's not waste any more time," he said, his voice a low growl.

with a swift movement, he lifted you onto the tattoo chair, positioning himself between your legs. the cool leather against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat building between you. jungkook's hands slid under your hoodie, pushing it up to reveal more of your skin. he kissed a trail down your collarbone, his fingers deftly undoing the clasp of your bra.

your breath hitched as he pulled the bra away, his lips capturing one of your nipples in a hot, wet kiss. you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he lavished attention on your breasts, his hands kneading the soft flesh.

"jungkook," you moaned, the sound of his name a desperate plea on your lips.

he responded by kissing his way back up to your mouth, his tongue parting your lips as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. the kiss was deep and fervent, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips when they parted. his hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and dip, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

you could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, and the sensation only heightened your own desire. with a trembling hand, you reached down, palming him through his jeans. he let out a low groan, the sound vibrating through you and making you even wetter.

"need you," you gasped against his lips, your voice breathless with need.

jungkook pulled back just enough to tug off his shirt, revealing the expanse of tattoos that decorated his chest and arms. you couldn't help but run your hands over his skin, tracing the lines of ink with your fingers.

he made quick work of your clothes, stripping you bare before him. the cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, but the look in jungkook's eyes sent a new wave of warmth through you. he kissed you again, his hands exploring your body with a fervent intensity.

his fingers found their way between your legs, sliding through your wetness with practiced ease. you gasped, bucking into his hand as he teased your entrance.

"you're so wet for me," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. "i want to taste you."

before you could respond, he knelt between your thighs, his tongue darting out to taste you. the sensation was overwhelming, and you cried out, your hands gripping the edges of the tattoo chair as he licked and sucked at your most sensitive spots.

jungkook's tongue moved with expert precision, driving you closer and closer to the edge. just as you felt the first tremors of your orgasm, he pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal.

"i want you to come with me inside you," he said, his voice rough with desire.

you nodded, too breathless to speak, and he quickly shed the rest of his clothes. the sight of him, fully naked and aroused, made your mouth water. he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locking with yours as he slowly pushed inside.

the sensation of him filling you was indescribable, a perfect mix of pleasure and pressure. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as he began to move. each thrust was deliberate and powerful, driving you closer to the edge with each stroke.

jungkook's hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he moved faster, his breath hot against your neck. "you're mine," he growled, his voice filled with possessive desire.

"yes," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. "i'm yours."

the words seemed to spur him on, and he increased his pace, driving into you with an almost desperate intensity. your orgasm built rapidly, a tight coil of pleasure that finally snapped, sending you over the edge with a cry of his name.

jungkook followed you over the edge, his own release shuddering through him as he buried himself deep inside you. he collapsed against you, both of you breathing heavily as the aftershocks of your orgasms coursed through you.

for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. it was just the two of you, tangled together in the quiet, dimly lit shop, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

"that was…" you began, but trailed off, unable to find the words.

"amazing," jungkook finished for you, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.

you nodded, a matching smile spreading across your face. "yeah. amazing."

jungkook pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. "i told you," he murmured, his voice soft and tender. "i'll always be here for you."

you nestled closer to him, savouring the warmth of his body against yours. "and i'll always be here for you," you whispered back, feeling a profound sense of connection and contentment.

jungkook pulled back slightly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "we should get cleaned up," he said, but made no move to let you go. instead, he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and affectionate.

you smiled, leaning into his touch. "yeah, but maybe we can stay like this for just a little longer," you suggested, not ready to break the intimate cocoon that had enveloped you both.

he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "i like the sound of that."

the two of you lay there for a while, wrapped up in each other's arms, the quiet of the tattoo shop providing a serene backdrop to your tender moment. the reality of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant compared to the warmth and closeness you shared.

eventually, jungkook sighed and pulled away, albeit reluctantly. "as much as i'd love to stay here with you forever, we should clean up and get you home."

you nodded, understanding the practicality of his words even though you wished the moment could last longer. "okay."

jungkook helped you off the tattoo chair, both of you moving slowly, savoring the lingering touches and stolen kisses as you gathered your clothes. he was gentle as he helped you dress, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made you want to pull him back into your embrace.

once you were both dressed, jungkook guided you to the small bathroom at the back of the shop. he wet a cloth and began to gently clean the areas of your body that still tingled from his touch. the intimacy of the moment, even in such a simple act, made your heart swell with affection.

"thank you," you said softly, your voice filled with sincerity. "for everything."

he smiled, his eyes locking with yours in a way that made you feel cherished. "anytime, y/n."

with a final, lingering kiss, jungkook finished cleaning up and walked you to the door. the cool night air was a stark contrast to the warmth you felt inside, but you didn't mind. you knew that the bond you had forged tonight was something special, something that would stay with you long after you left the shop.

as you stepped outside, jungkook held your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "call me when you get home, okay? i want to make sure you're safe."

you nodded, squeezing his hand in return. "i will."

he watched as you walked away, his figure a comforting presence behind you. as you made your way home, you felt a sense of peace and fulfilment that you hadn't felt in a long time. the night had been more than just a tattoo session—it had been a new beginning, a step towards a future filled with promise and love.

later that night, as you settled into bed, your mind was filled with thoughts of jungkook, completely forgetting he was waiting for your call.

the intimacy you shared, the way he looked at you, the feeling of his hands on your skin—it all replayed in your mind like a beautiful dream. just as you were about to drift off to sleep, your phone rang, breaking the silence of the room. the screen displayed jungkook's name, and your heart skipped a beat.

you answered the call, trying to keep your voice steady. "hey,"

"hey," he replied, his voice warm and soothing. "i just wanted to make sure you got home safely."

"i did," you said, feeling a rush of warmth at his concern. "thank you for checking."

there was a brief silence, filled with the unspoken feelings hanging between you. finally, jungkook broke the silence. "i can't stop thinking about tonight, about you, y/n."

"me too," you admitted, your voice soft. "thanks for the special treatment."

"it was special," jungkook agreed. "i've wanted to tell you how i feel for so long, but i didn't know if you felt the same way."

"i do," you whispered, your heart pounding. "i feel the same way, jungkook."

he let out a relieved sigh, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "i'm glad to hear that. how about we make this official? can i take you out to dinner tomorrow night?"

your face broke into a wide smile, your excitement bubbling over. "i'd love that."

"great," jungkook said, his voice filled with warmth. "i'll pick you up at seven. sweet dreams, y/n."

"sweet dreams, jungkook," you replied, ending the call with a smile.

the next day was a blur of anticipation and excitement. as the evening approached, you found yourself carefully selecting an outfit, wanting everything to be perfect. when the clock struck seven, a knock on your door made your heart race.

jungkook stood on the other side, looking effortlessly handsome. he greeted you with a bouquet and a shy, endearing smile. "you look beautiful," he said, his eyes filled with admiration.

"thank you," you replied, feeling your cheeks flush with warmth. "you look great too."

the dinner was perfect. the two of you shared stories, laughter, and tender glances across the table. every moment felt charged with electricity, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing second. after dinner, jungkook took you for a walk in a nearby park. the night was clear, the stars twinkling above as you strolled hand in hand.

as you reached a quiet spot, jungkook turned to face you, his expression serious yet tender. "y/n, i meant what i said last night. i'll always be here for you. i want to be with you if you'll have me."

your heart swelled with emotion, and you nodded, tears of happiness brimming in your eyes. "i want to be with you too, jungkook. more than anything."

he pulled you into a gentle embrace, his lips finding yours in a soft, tender kiss. the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in your perfect moment.

the weeks that followed were filled with joy and discovery. jungkook became not only your lover but your confidant and best friend. each moment spent together strengthened your bond, and your love grew stronger with each passing day.

you found yourself spending more and more time at jungkook's apartment, where he would cook for you, and you would talk for hours about everything and nothing. the walls that once seemed to contain just his life now felt like a shared space where your love blossomed.

one evening, as you lay in bed together, jungkook traced patterns on your skin, his touch sending shivers through you. "i've been thinking about something," he said, hesitating.

"what is it?" you asked, turning to face him.

"i want us to move in together," he confessed, his eyes searching yours. "i want you to be a part of my everyday life, not just the special moments. what do you think?"

your heart swelled with joy, and you couldn't stop the smile on your face. "i think i'd love that. more than anything."

moving in together felt like the most natural step in your relationship. you merged your lives seamlessly, finding comfort and joy in the little things—cooking together, late-night talks, and lazy sunday mornings.

one evening, while unpacking the last of your things, you came across an old photo album. sitting on the couch, you and jungkook flipped through the pages, laughing at childhood photos and sharing stories from your pasts. it felt intimate and suitable, a testament to how deeply you trusted each other.

jungkook pulled you close, his eyes filled with love and promise. "we've come a long way, haven't we?"

"we have," you agreed, resting your head on his shoulder. "and i wouldn't change a thing."

as the evening wore on, you found yourselves on the balcony, watching the sunset. jungkook wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. "i can't wait to see what the future holds for us," he murmured.

"me too," you replied, your heart full of love and excitement. "with you by my side, i know it will be amazing."

as you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a deep sense of fulfilment and contentment. the journey began with a simple tattoo, which had transformed into a beautiful love story that would continue to unfold with each passing day.

your past no longer held any power over you; you could embrace a future filled with love, promise, and endless possibilities. together, you and jungkook would face whatever came your way, knowing that your love was strong enough to withstand anything.

as you closed your eyes and leaned into his embrace, you knew this was just the beginning of your happily ever after.

(sorry omg i love this pic sm rn 😭😭😭)

© marvyu 2k24 — please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms: i do not tolerate them at all.

[tetzoro]

FROM THE START — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. jean kirstein !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : your last semester is coming to a close with finals only a breath away. but your feelings for jean rage now more than ever. with a ticking clock now set, there’s only a matter of time left to confess your true feelings.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI! f!reader. college au, pwp, mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex, praise, fingering, pet names (pretty girl, baby), jean has a horsecock, creampie. — WC : 5.1k.

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : this was going to be from a series i started a long time ago but i just condensed it into one lil fic. enjoy ^_^

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

“alright hot shot, tell me what you see.” jean asks, readying his pen up, wiggling himself in false anticipation. you roll your eyes and lay your head back on the towel.

you took a moment to appreciate your surroundings. the way the sun kissed your face, it’s touch warming your whole body up in the softest form of intimacy. gazing up at the clouds, you see a few notable shapes you could point out but your eyes wander to the water. the sound of crashing waves further soothing your mind as you take it all in. off on the horizon, you see the perfect formation of clouds.

“there!” you point up at a cluster of clouds. “it looks like a pirate ship with a whale swimming under it.”

“where the hell-“ jean trailed off, searching the sky for whatever abomination you were looking at. it was your guys' favorite game to play. you got to cloudgaze and point out the shapes in the sky while jean did a quick sketch of it so you could hold onto your piece of the cloud forever. “you’ve been watching too much one piece.” he grumped, starting to sketch.

“oh shut up.” giggling, you flip onto your stomach, watching him as he sketches. he always did a quick one, not wanting to linger on something for too long as he wanted to keep playing. his face was relaxed except for his eyebrows. the furrow of his brow matching the intensity of the grip on his pencil as it flew across the page. he was so lost in his own little world he didn’t realize you were staring. 

sighing from the lack of attention, you flip back over to look at the water. the waves were a force today, so strong that it scared even you to go into the water. but everyone else chanced fate as they swam around the shore.

“you better get your asses in the water!” eren shouts, making his way to you guys. judging by the look on his face, he was serious. 

“it’s too salty, i always get the water in my mouth.” jean complained, tucking his sketchbook away as eren made his approach. you never knew what kind of stunt he was going to pull.

“yeah? you wouldn’t even go in to save a damsel in distress?” eren smirked, his gaze turning on you as the water droplets dripped down his body.

“eren don’t you da-“ you squeal as he hoists you up, running towards the water as your literally kicking and screaming. eren just laughed as he rushed into the waves. the water wasn’t as cold as you thought it would be but it was still a shock. one that shut you up and made you cling to eren. “don’t you dare drop me.”

“wasn’t planning on it.” he smirked, giving you a tiny wink. “i was going to throw you.”

“eren!” you scream as he tosses you into the waves, water flowing into your mouth as you sunk down a little. you weren’t under the tide for long as an arm wrapped itself around your waist, pulling you up from under. 

“you’re such an ass.” jean’s voice rang out over erens laughter. you rub your eyes, trying to get excess water out before you turn your glare towards eren. you break from jeans’ hold as you launch yourself towards him, trying to push your weight on his head to push him under the water. but of course, he doesn’t budge.

“you’re so annoying.” you hiss, trying not to break out into giggles. “you always pull that shit.”

“come on, you like it. otherwise you would’ve learned your lesson by now and come swim with all of us sooner.”

you scoff, knowing that in his own twisted way, he was right. beach days like this were hard to come by, and with finals around the corner, it was much needed. 

mikasa and armin were on the shore, oblivious to the games that you guys were playing as they looked for shells. armin had his collection in his dorm, all the ones he’s found stuffed into a jar. 

connie and sasha had been in the ocean awhile ago but got out to take a snack break, leaving eren all alone in the water. hence, eren coming to bother you and jean. 

“still.” jean rolls his eyes, making his way by your side. “it’s not like you give us a chance to come in by ourselves. we’ve been here for what, 30 minutes?”

“classic jean, always complaining about something.” eren rolls his eyes right back at him, effectively pushing jeans buttons.

“why you little—“ jean took a step forward, only to be stopped by your hand on his chest. you look over and eren who tried to puff up his, ready for jean to come at him.

“alright guys, knock it off.” you sigh, looking over to mikasa for back up. like a sixth sense, she knew you needed her and made eye contact with you. it didn’t take her long to reach your side.

“eren, come help me and armin with the shells.” she said, her gentle yet commanding voice taking over the previous tension. eren scoffs again, immediately turning pink as mikasa touches his arm, trying to coax him to come with her.

that was all it took— the two setting off to the shore and back to armin. leaving you and jean alone once again.

“anyway,” you drag out the word, turning to face jean. he had calmed down a little but no one could rile him up like eren could. “wanna find connie and sasha? maybe see what they found to eat?”

“like they’d share.” he laughed, looking down at you. “besides, i’m kind of used to the water now. we might as well enjoy it since we are here.”

“are you being optimistic?” you tease, splashing him with the water. he looked at you with intense mock offense.

“i’m always optimistic!” he retorts, splashing more water back at you.

“yeah, right. you mean you’re always so dramatic.” you laugh, keeping up the game your started as you push water towards him.

“i’m gonna get you for that.” he laughs, splashing again. you two go at it for awhile until jean accidentally took in a mouthful of water — one of the waves not too kindly crashing over him. he spits it out with a disgusted face, his tongue slightly hanging out as the salt water rests on it. “blegh. this always happens to me. c’mon, let’s get out of here. we should probably get ready for the party tonight anyway.”

you nod, excitement flooding your veins for the party later. everyone was going to be there and you needed time to get ready and more importantly, get the salt water out of your hair.

you didn’t get a chance to look at him before, but as jean walked out of the water, you were painfully reminded at how fit he was. water droplets cascaded down his body, following the dips and curves of his muscles. even his mullet looked good, all slicked back and drenched in the salt water.

you let out a silent sigh as you follow him out of the water, mentally kicking yourself for staring at him for too long again. but the feelings he gave you swirled in your stomach, expanding to every synapse in your body before exploding.

tonight would be the night you tell him. tonight will be the night everything will change.

jeans fingers clenched around the solo cup, the sound of it snapping easily getting lost in the sea of voices that filled the room. the remnants of his beer trickled along his fingers before he threw it to the side, wiping the rest on his pants in a haste.

it only took him a few steps to get where he needed to be — right in front of you. you with your perfect smile, perfect laugh, perfect perfect perfect. it’s all he could think when he saw you. how could you not realize that?

“you okay, jean?” you ask, the words sounding so sweet coming out of your mouth that all he wanted to do was savor them. your expression caught him off guard though, the sweet words not adding up to the coy grin you had spreading across your plush lips. “you look kind of angry.”

jean didn’t know what to say. did you know how he felt? were you trying to play him out to be a fool? but as soon as he heard erens stupid giggle, the words didn’t stop flowing from his mouth.

“you got a problem jaeger? something seem funny to you?” he snapped at eren, his voice low, signaling he wasn’t in the mood. but of course, eren was eren, and he loved nothing more than making a fool out of jean.

“yeah, actually.” he sneered, taking a step closer to jean. “i do think something’s funny.”

“enlighten me then. id love to hear what you find so funny.” jean fired back, taking a closer step to him, clenching his fist. they hadn’t fought in awhile but today, jean needed to let out some of his frustration. why did eren get your attention tonight? why couldn’t you talk to him instead?

he didn’t realize how close he had gotten to eren, practically touching noses, until he felt your light touch on his shoulder. a touch he had grown to be familiar with, something that never failed to soothe him, even just a little bit.

“guys, stop.” your voice breaks out. it was smooth, soft, but they both knew that underneath it lied something vicious. neither one wanted to see that side come from you, especially since mikasa was already side eyeing them. the two of you together was one of the scariest things anyone could ever face.

jean and eren took a hasty step away from each other, scowling and avoiding eye contact with one another. your hand slid from his shoulder down jean’s bicep, holding onto him gently. the act itself was so soft yet it held so much power over him. he couldn't help but lean into it before deciding to throw an arm around your shoulder.

something always felt so right when you were tucked under him like this. you fit so perfectly. your arm wrapped around his waist and he led you to the living room, away from eren.

“so, wanna tell me what happened back there?” you ask as the two of you manevoured towards your favorite spot. at every party, you guys would always find yourself at this spot by the end of the night. it was so cozy, the couch tucked in the corner of the room, away from the main sitting area.

he sat down and you followed suit. looking up at him, he looked slightly disheveled. his normally tamed mullet was all of the place, the result of him running his hands through it one too many times. plus, he didn’t look back at you. the bob of his left leg going up and down at an incredible speed. 

you place your hand lightly on his leg and the response was immediate. his leg halted its movement and his eyes found yours in record time. offering him a small smile, you reach up to smooth his hair back.

“nothing happened.” he said softly, watching you very carefully as you tended to him. relishing in the touch you gave him. “don’t worry about it.”

“jean,” you start, your hand caressing down his cheek, moving over to tuck some of his hair behind his ear. “you know you can talk to me, right?”

his cheeks were tinted pink, something you chalked up to the alcohol he was drinking earlier. but his gaze was set on you, peering down deep into your eyes. the contact almost made you shudder. 

“i know.” he bit the inside of his cheek as he contemplated what he wanted to say— or rather, how he wanted to say it. “i just got jealous is all.”

this, you weren’t expecting. out of all the things jean could’ve said, this never crossed your mind. the shock had your head reeling back, removing your hand from his hair. the loss of contact stirred a panic within him, mirroring the panic that was starting to bubble up in you.

“jealous?” you squeak out. jealous of what? of eren? or you? or what? jean stared into your eyes for a moment, the anticipation was rippling down your spine, finding it’s home in your stomach. 

“yes.” he breathed out softly, placing his hand over the one you had resting on the couch. “i was jealous.”

“of what?” you blink, at war with yourself. his hand felt heavy, almost suffocating but it was the only thing that could soothe you. the room was too small and the alcohol was churning in your stomach. your hand turned over, gripping onto his as a way to ground yourself in the moment.

“of eren.” he said, his brows furrowing as he took in your reaction. he didn’t mean for this to come out now, but you looked so sincere when you told him to talk to you. all the things he’s never told you bubbled up in his throat, threatening to spill out if he didn’t do something. his fight or flight was activated, and he didn’t want to run away this time. “i wanted you-“

the gears start turning in your head as he spoke, knocking off the dust before it struck like clockwork. 

the room around you guys came back into focus as someone knocked their drink over you both. the liquid seeped into the fabric of your dress, eliciting chills all over you but you weren’t sure if it was from this or from the conversation you were having.

normally, you’d laugh something like this off. it had happened before and it was bound to happen again. but the stakes had been too high, your emotions were already being drawn out and this was just too much. 

“im so sorry-“ reiner said, trying his best to find something to help clean you up. all you could do was stare at your stained dress. what was jean going to tell you?

“way to go reiner.” jean hissed, standing up to face him. reiner was at a loss for words; it was an honest mistake. but jean wasn’t mad at him, he wasn’t even mad that he spilled his drink on you guys — accidents happen. no, he was furious because you were on the verge of tears and he couldn’t tell if it was because of him or not.

“jean.” you say, grabbing his clenched fist. he hadn’t even realized he had been so wound up. he helps pull you up, tucking you back under his arm. the smell of his colonge enveloped you in a warm embrace, one that felt familiar to you and cleared your head from the fog that was slowly wrapping itself around you. “let’s get cleaned up.”

he froze. he absolutely froze. the tiniest smirk rose on reiner’s face as he turned away, getting back to the party. jean wanted to punch it right off. 

“let’s go to the bathroom.”  he steered you away from the party towards the back of the house. many faces passed you guys as you walked forward, but all you could do was look at the man leading you. he held onto your hand as he dragged you through the party, pulling you behind him so you don’t get separated.

your eyes trail along his arm, lingering ever so slightly at his bicep — was his shirt always that tight? he looked good, even though parts of it held remnants of reiners drink. continuing upwards, you land on his face. 

his jaw was tensed as he pulled you through the crowd. determined, fierce. like it was his duty to escort you to the bathroom and it wasn’t something he took lightly. in all your years you knew jean, you don’t think you had ever seen him as clearly as you did in this moment.

you two make it to the bathroom that was connected to his bedroom, shutting the door and closing you both in. 

“i’m sorry about reiner.” he sighs, moving to grab a towel as you hop up on the counter. you watch him move with a strong purpose, a serious one that involves drying your dress. 

“it’s okay, accidents happen.” you shrug as he starts patting the towel against the cloth, trying to absorb whatever he can. but you both know the damage was done — the dress was stained and seeped with alcohol, it’s only hope was to throw it in the washer. 

“i think we need to call it.” he says with a small smile, looking up at you perched on his counter. you smile back down at him before feigning a frown. 

“so soon? not even giving her a proper fighting chance?” you sigh, “but if you insist, what are our options.”

“well,” he took a step back to hang up the towel, the loss of his presence already hitting you in the gut. “you’ll have to wash it but in the meantime i can give you some of my clothes to wear.”

“aw, thank you jeanbo.” you hop off the counter. “that would be perfect.”

taking your hand, he leads you into his bedroom before he searches for something suitable for you to wear. you look around his room in the meantime, your eyes landing on his sketchbook — open to the boat he was drawing earlier at the beach. you smile to yourself, glad that he has kept it. 

jean breaks you out of your head, tossing you some clothes and you go back into his bathroom to change into them.

after peeling your dress off and throwing on the clothes he gave you, you walk back into his room and see him sitting idly on the couch, twiddling his thumbs before you capture his gaze. 

“what?” you ask him, eyes widening as you catch him staring. he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away like he wasn’t just giving you his undivided attention.

“nothing!” he quickly says, slightly pink in the cheeks as he turns back towards you. “it’s just, you look good in my clothes.”

“oh?” you give him a little smirk and he regrets ever opening his mouth. rolling his eyes, he goes to retort but it dies in his throat before he ever had the chance to spit it out.

you were right in front of him — how you got there so quickly, he’ll never know. the palms of your hands rest on his shoulder before you lower your face to his level. 

“you really think so?” you tilt your head to the side with a smile, one of your hands running up along his neck and to the back of his head, playing with the edges of his mullet.

you weren’t sure what made you feel so emboldened, the alcohol you had earlier was long out of your system. but something pushed you towards him like a magnet, a voice in your head encouraging you to finally confess like you planned.

“i really do.” his breath almost hitches as he looks at you. “you always look good though, the prettiest girl in the world.”

his compliment hits you in the chest, blooming into a warmth that seeped through every nerve in your body. your faces were so close, your breathing was shallow, all it would take was a little nudge to — 

but he beats you too it, forever a man driven by impulse. surging himself forward to capture your lips against his, pouring every ounce of passion into it — desperate to let you know how he feels without uttering a word. 

his hand cradles loosely around your neck, using it to pull you forward so you’re falling into his lap. your heart was soaring with each kiss, already addicted to the way he makes you feel — how dizzy your mind grew as his sweet kisses filled your head.

“is this okay?” jean whispered against your lips. everything was so warm; like the beginning of summer igniting that special buzz in the air. you wanted it to swallow you whole, you wanted this more than you have ever wanted anything before in your life. you nod against him, moving your lips back onto his in a hurried fashion. 

jean wasted no time now. he wrapped his arms around you and hiked you further up onto his lap, groaning so sweetly into the kiss you two shared. as each passing second went on, the messier the kiss got. breathing was the last thing on your mind right now, all you could do was feed off of what jean was giving you and hoped it would be enough to sustain you.

jean was no better, his hands couldn’t stay still. finally, he was able to be with you, no more dancing around each other. a part of him wanted to kick himself for waiting so long but the other part told him to enjoy this moment. so he planned on it.

his hands slide up under your shirt, the cold metal from his rings causes you to gasp at the sudden contact, arching your back and pressing your chest against him. jean took the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth, pulling you in closer. 

there was no telling how long you two stayed tangled up together on the little couch in his room, the make out session only growing needier and needier. years of pent up tension was finally able to flow. 

“let’s move on the bed, yeah?” jean asked, his eyes still shut from your kiss.

“yeah.” you nod, pulling him in for another kiss as you both stand up. he walks backwards toward his bed before the back of his knees hit it. he sits, pulling you down on top of him once again, his hips moving up so you can feel his hardness ache for you.

“been wanting this for so long.” he murmurs, moving his lips from yours, to your cheek, down your jaw and back to yours for a heated kiss. “ever since i met you.”

“me too.” you breathe out, already craving to be closer to him. “can't wait any longer.”

hooking his hands under your backside, he quickly flips you so you’re under him, sprawled out on his bed in ways he’s dreamed about for years. 

“me neither.” he surges back down, his kiss growing needier with every second. the clothes you had just graciously put on were now being pulled off by him — along with his own. he pulls back for a moment to admire you, taking in every curve of your body. you almost want to shy away from his gaze but the look in his eye was so loving, so full of adoration, that you didn’t. “you’re so beautiful.”

and with the way he said it, you believed it.

he doesn’t waste anymore time, moving you around so he can ease himself over you, slotting himself between your legs. his hair fell in front of his face a bit so you reach up, tucking it back behind his ear. the sweet, simple gesture sent him into overdrive, hungrily kissing you as a man who had been deprived of it since the day he met you.

his hand smoothes down your side before his fingers find themselves between your thighs. hestitantly, he prods against your slick entrance, almost nervous to take the plunge. but you’re quick to reassure him, rolling your hips to greedily suck his digit in.

he moans into your mouth, feeling how tight you are around his finger. his mind already wandering to how snug his cock will feel once he’s  finally inside of you. but he knows he has to prep you first, slipping in another finger to properly stretch you out.

and the sweet noises you make fill his head with a peace he’s always longed for. every sense was focused on you, addicted to showering you in pleasure. he could spend all day doing this, soaking up every mewl of his name.

“jean, please.” you pull back a bit to speak, the sounds of your cunt squelching from his fingers filling the room. “need you to fuck me.”

“anything you want.” he kisses the corner of your mouth, quickly taking a hold of his cock and pressing it against your entrance. “you ready for me?”

“i am.” you nod, hips already moving as you try to find friction. he starts to push in, the tip of his cock already stretching you out. the girth alone has your toes curling but it felt like his cock was never ending — consistently shoving more of it in, inch by thick inch. 

“almost there, pretty girl.” he grunts, eyes trained on you, searching for any hint of pain. the stretch felt so good, splitting you open as he finally bottoms out. you both let out a gasp, your warm walls snuggly wrapped around his cock in a heaven he never dreamed of existing.

he murmurs sweet praises in your ear as he lets you adjust, telling you how good you are, how tight you feel. softly kissing your temple as you give him the go ahead to move.

he starts slow, sensual. taking his time and dragging his cock in and out, searching for that special button deep inside of you. 

it felt like he was everywhere, so lodged up into you, you swore you could feel the tip of his cock pressing against your heart. it stole your breath away, lungs losing function as you gasp for air.

“that’s it, baby, just keep taking it. i promise i’m gonna make you feel so good, okay? you don’t have to do a thing.” he kisses your neck, leaving little marks of love in his wake. “you’re already doing s’much, making me feel so, so good.”

“jean i-.” you croak out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he finds the soft, cushiony part of you, a place where your fingers could never reach. he completely filled you up, your mind already growing hazy from it.

“gonna go faster, okay?” he presses a soft kiss against your jaw, your head nodding along to whatever he was saying. “so good f’me.”

his praise has you clenching around him, eliciting a guttural moan from him. it was all it took to break the last bit of his resolve — hips starting to snap against yours.

there was no way you could stay quiet, the pleasure was overwhelming, leaving you to forget where you were. the cry of his name had his ego soaring, cockiness filling his veins. his hand covers your mouth as he drives into you harder.

“can’t be too loud, unless you want everyone at the party to know how good i’m making you feel.” he murmurs. you could tell by his tone that he was feeling as good as you were, pleasure already threatening to consume him the longer he thrust into you.

his hand lowers from your mouth, opting to use it to hike up your leg, propping it over his shoulder. if it was even possible, he was deeper — his cock practically kissing your cervix.

he knew he wasn’t going to last long. a nearly impossible task that he knew going in, he’d fail. but as long as you came around his cock, he’d count it as a win.

his deft fingers find your neglected nub and your body all but jolts under his hold. he swirls your clit around in measured circles, your cries only growing louder. but he’s too entranced to cover them up — every instinct telling him to keep giving you more.

“jean!” you cry, “i’m s-so close!”

“go ahead and let go f’me, need to feel you.” he encourages, hitting that spongey part harder as his fingers deliciously dance along your clit. his approval pushed your over the edge, back arching up as ecstasy took you away.

the sight alone had jean’s hips stuttering. as if you could read his mind, you said, “cum inside, jean. need you to fill me up.

the whine you let out had him pushing his pulsing cock as deep as he could before releasing inside of you. his hips jolt with each rope of cum, groans of your name slipping out of his mouth as he fills you up. every time you clenched around him only pulled more cum out of him.

“cant stop cumming, fuck-.” he rasped out, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he finally finishes. he falls beside you, trying not to put all his weight on you as his cock continues to twitch in your warmth.

all you can do is try to catch your breath, gazing at each other, sharing the same thought of why did this take you so long.

he slowly pulls out of you, both of you letting out a soft noise. pressing a kiss to your head, he stands up and grabs a towel, carefully cleaning you up. 

once he’s done, he lays back down in bed, his back hitting the pillows as he pulls you up into his arms. your head rests against his chest, no doubt listening to his ever-racing heart — the one that only beats for you.

“jean-“ you say at the same time as he says your name. you both giggle at each other, feeling weightless in each other's embrace. 

“you go.” he encourages you, moving so he can get a better look at you. 

“i um.” you feel heat rise to your face. after everything you just did, confessing your feelings still feels nerveracking. but looking into his warm eyes, it melts away those doubts, filling them with hope instead. “i love you.”

“i love you too.” his face splits into a smile, one that eases your soul and lulls you into him. he takes a deep breath, ready to spill out everything he’s been feeling. “i want you to be mine. i want to wake up next to you everyday, i want to draw you pictures of the clouds all day long, i want to kiss you whenever you need a kiss, i want to hold your hands on the days that life feels too much. please, be my girlfriend.”

“of course jean.” you smile, leaning up to press a lingering kiss on his cheek. “i was yours from the start.”

[rieamena]

the first date!

a continuation of my ino has a crush on you post wc: 0.6k honorable mention: that special nonnie who motivated me to write this

ino who waits patiently for your shift to end, seated at a small, corner table near the café’s counter. his outfit—a soft gray sweater and dark jeans—is casual yet thoughtful, a reflection of his nerves and excitement. he watches you with admiration, noting the way your smile brightens the room as you interact with customers. as the clock ticks closer to the end of your shift, he can barely contain his anticipation

ino who greets you with a wide, relieved smile as you finally clock out. he stands up, the bouquet of flowers he’s holding looking slightly wilted from his nervous grip. "hey, beautiful," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. "ready for our date?" he presents the bouquet with a shy smile. "i thought these might brighten your day after your long shift." "oh my god, thank you! they're so pretty." you reply, your smile genuine. you glance at the wrapped package in his hand. "and what’s this?"

ino who looks slightly flustered but quickly regains his composure. "oh, it’s just a little something i thought you might like," he says, looking away bashfully, placing the mystery gift in his bag. "but the real surprise is the location. follow me." he takes your hand and leads you to a charming rooftop garden tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city

ino who set up a cozy picnic in the garden, the area softly lit by fairy lights and adorned with comfy seating. as you both arrive, you see a table set with a spread of assorted pastries, fruits, and a bottle of sparkling cider. "i wanted to create a relaxing atmosphere since working at the cafe can get a bit hectic," ino says, nervously arranging the last few items. "i hope you like it." eyes sparkling with appreciation, the crinkle of the bouquet's packaging was heard as you set it down on the table. "like it? i love it! it’s incredible!"

ino who, as the evening progresses, grows more comfortable and opens up about his own interests. "i’ve always admired people who can get lost in a good book," he says, laughing softly. "i tried writing a short story once, but it ended up being a total disaster." you laugh along with him, taking a sip of your cider. "oh come on, i’m sure it wasn’t that bad. maybe one day you'll let me read it!" "maybe…"

ino who surprises you with a gift towards the end of the date. "i remember you mentioning your love for journaling," he says, pulling out the wrapped box from earlier. giving it to you, you tore off the wrappings, revealing a beautifully crafted book. "i thought this might be a nice place for you to jot down your thoughts or sketches." you take a moment to admire the journal’s intricate design before looking up at him, "you really didn't have to." "i wanted to."

ino who walks you back to your place, making sure you’re comfortable and safe. as you reach your front door, you turn around, "takuma," he looks at you with an unreadable expression. something between, nervousness, confusion, and anticipation. "i'll be planning our second date. let's say a week or two from now?" "what?" "second date. you. me. together."

ino who can’t help but grin widely. "YES! i mean, uh, awesome," he says, his excitement poorly contained. "i’ll be looking forward to it." "and so will i." inching closer to him, you gave takuma a quick peck on his cheek, squealing and running into your home immediately after. "goodnight!!!" "goodnight sweetheart…" he mutters, brain still processing everything. as he walks away, hand planted his cheek as if to protect the kiss you gave him, he reflects on the evening with a satisfied smile, already eagerly anticipating your next date

I LOVE YOU INO TAKUMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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[wisteriaiswriting]

Tire Me Out

Words: 650

Stumbling through your dark room, having stubbed your toe on your bed frame twice. Lightly kicking anything in your way, with only the faint moonlight guiding you to the lightswtich near the door. Shutting your eyes and covering them when the light was turned on, slowly pulling them away as you adjusted.

The clock on the wall told you the time, 2:52. Fuck. What was wrong with you today? Shaking your head before looking around, hoping to find something to steal your attention until you pass out where you were. Something you would definitely regret in the morning, but much to your dismay there was nothing.

Huffing as you switch the light off, reaching for the door only to hit the wood. Taking a deep breath in, silently but seething as you let it go. Finally getting the door open to find a pitch black hallway, unable to see even arms length from you. Scrambling through a nearby storage bin full of junk, luckily finding a small torch.

Now that you were awake and outside your room you realized two things, how dry your throat was, and it was fucking freezing. But you couldn’t find the energy to search for something warm or return to bed yet, so you quietly made your way down the hall.

Normally you’d find others awake, like cascading from under doorways with whatever they did cutting through the silence. But not tonight, it seemed what Medic said had everyone listening. The medbay door was slightly open but he wasn’t anywhere in sight, who was likely off in Heavy’s room.

Sniper wasn’t even in the base but you couldn’t care less to check on him, not like he had much else to be doing anyways. Hearing snores from a variety of rooms, Demo, Soldier and even some from Scout. Not daring to enter Spy’s or Pyro’s room, but you were daring when it came to Engineer.

Warm light was covering the ground and you, swear to god, could feel the heat from how long he’s had the light on. Without the background noise of tools running you had to be quiet entering, which he didn’t notice. Finding him hunched over his desk, sketching on some blueprint paper.

“What are ya doing cowboy?”

He dropped his pencil in an instead, reaching for a nearby wrench. Slouching when he noticed it was you, only to pick up the pencil again.

“Could say the same for you darlin~”

“You could, but I asked first!”

Not noticing him wince at your voice, walking around him. Unable to fight the urge to pick up and look at everything in reach. Stopping when he took something from your hand,

“Now, what are ya doin’ up this late?”

Only able to shrug at his question, watching him huff.

“If you're gonna stay, lay down in the cot.” Pointing his thumb towards the back of his workshop, finding a cot with a thin blanket and flat pillow. Sensing your thoughts he continued, “Or my bed might be better for ya.”

Instead of choosing any of the options he gave, you decided to sit on an empty spot on the desk.

“Don’t you go ruining anything now.”

“Me, break something of yours? Never.”

Feeling gunslinger sit on your hip, his flesh hand pinching the bottom of your shirt.

“I’d rather not risk it, so why don’t you hop off.”

“Then where would I go?”

Wordlessly he picked you up, quickly and surprisingly gently placing you onto his lap.

“That’s where, or would ya rather go back to bed?”

“I’d rather not, but what about you?”

“I’m more than comfortable here sugar,” A quick scan of your face revealed… some intentions alright. “What are ya planning there?”

He was surprisingly out of his usual overalls, which you welcomed. Lowering your hand under his shirt, laying it on his stomach.

“Oh don’t you worry about it~”

[snakeunderyourboot]

Y'ALL I FINALLY FIGURED OUT JOHN DESIGN!!!! (<- lying. Will probably change it the next time I will draw him) ANYWAYS, I have thoughts about the choices I made with his design, so for rumbling, open up the cut. There are some additional doodles

So, I am a huge fan of "John changes design through the podcast", so here is a quick sketch of what each phase is, along with my additional thoughts) S1 (pre-episode 5) - John, who is still an Entity for now - a literal piece torn from KiY, with only eyes. Hides in Arthur's shadow

S1(post-episode 5) - John Doe, who is more aware of himself now and picked up a clock. It still less tangible form, more of a placeholder rather than something that he can call himself. Still hides in Arthur's shadow, but is now more proactive, in a way

S2 - John Doe, who is now aware that he is KiY and with that his reflection of himself changes. His cloak is bigger and he stands proudly behind Arthur. The way the cloak lays on the ground, it reminds of tentacles. While saying that he is no longer a KiY, some pieces still cling to him, now that he truly knows his nature.

S3-5 - John Doe, who is entirelly his own. Here it's becoming comlicated

The hood was taken by King in Yellow in episode 20, revealing how much John changed. He is no longer a piece, he is completely his own and King cannot fit him back.

The small crown appeared after S4 finale - he is now a true king of the Earth dimension, no longer fighting for control with Yellow. The crown is also something he renounces from his time in the Darkworld(and his kingdom there)

Clothes that were inspired by Arthur. I chose green colors because I remember one of the first posts I found on malevtumbler was a post about green being John's favorite color. I thought it was a really cool idea, so green clothes for John!

Small fireflies around John! This was something I took from my wip animatic of the last 10 minutes of episode 43. They appear after John comes back from Darkworld in S3, they don't produce any source of light but they act as an extension of John! They mostly just float around, but in S4 finale they come together to create a halo behind John's manifestation. In a way, they are remnants of what little of KiY power John has.

this is a really old wip, so there is a older version design of John that I had in mind, but the way Fireflights behave is still the same.

Some other additional thoughts I have

While I love John's creature designs, I also can't stop thinking about him taking things from Arthur. He took so much and Arthur kept giving more. In a way, his more humanoid form is a result of this exchange.

I am basing my Arthur design on my own cosplay that I did last year! With the exception of glasses and more curly hair. I didn't posted the cosplay here, but you can find it on Malevolent Cast twitter back somewhere in may.

My Hastur design is also more humanoid because I really love this idea of gods and mortals being essentially the same. Before separation, Hastur is a huge, abstract, creature-like god, but after separation, he is changed. And for a being who existed for billions of years, the mere idea of change is fucking terrifying. So along with John's changes, Hastur changes too, becoming similar to those he used to see as mere ants. Isn't that fun for him!

Yellow in S3 is basically John's design from S2, but with a little bit colder yellow color. In S4 he is back to his Hastur design BUT afterward, I have a small hc in my mind(and possibly au, comic to which you may never see, but regardless) that after the events of S4, Yellow managed to ditch Larson and now is restoring Carcosa AND along the way changing into this new version of Hastur. I even thought about giving him a new name, but I will keep it a secret for now. Here is a comparison of Yellow and John's designs

In the early mentioned AU, that happens post-canon, John design is also different, BUUUT that's spoilers and I do really wish to show more of this au. For now take those incoherent thoughts.

Thank you fro your attention <3

[doctordeathawaits]

Transproxy tips? I'm a proxy to Slenderman (/srs I'm a pop culture pagan) and wanna feel more connected to him and use my transition as an act of devotion.

@radhell

I shall try my best , here is something similar that I have posted before that may also help . Once again , as a Jeff fictive , I'm mainly gonna be basing these tips from what I have personally seen proxies do .

TRANS - PROXY ...

Firstly - what do they do ? They maintain order around a given location , translating Slenderman's thoughts and speech , making sure nothing is in the way of Slender's orders . They work and serve Slenderman .

The man (?) tends to forcefully recruit his workers , yet I have seen some who ' enlisted ' on their own .

Before enlisting , you would be doing yourself the biggest favour by training . Start running , take up climbing and parkour , learn how to use a weapon / self defence . Already knowing those aspects will help you to not endure torturous training in the circle .

Know what you're dipping into , once you enlist , you can't leave - only death can take you out of that circle , so prepare mentally .

Know how to navigate forests , you're gonna be spending lots of time in them . Know how to use a compass , know how to quick-sketch maps , how to read the time without a clock .

Desensitize yourself to blood , you're gonna be seeing it more than normal .

Now , here's how to enlist into The Proxies ;

Make sure your devotion is known and heard - once you feel uneasy , as if someone is watch you , that's when you should do this ; .. At around midnight , on a new moon , go into the forest / woods . Take a known trail , if you see unfamiliar paths , ignore them . .. Do not bring any sort of cameras , phones , electronics . Bring a flashlight . You can use your phone flashlight - yet turn off your location / completely reset your phone . .. Keep your eyes to the ground , do not look up - if you feel / hear someone follow , do not run . Walk in a normal pace . If you feel sick , nauseous , hear ringing , have blurry vision , numbness ; do not back down , keep looking down and walking the path . .. If your flashlight starts flickering , do not freak out , keep going . If your phone starts to let out static / randomly start playing radio channels , do not freak out - you are allowed to brisk-walk . .. If your flashlight starts rapidly flickering , stop walking and close your eyes tightly . Listen around you , if you hear someone close - do not freak out , keep still . .. Once you feel a faint voice in your head - answer it out loud , answer it's questions truthfully and only truthfully . .. If you feel some sort of stinging / tingling at a specific point on your body , do not freak out , stay still ; congratulations , you were accepted . If you do not feel this , if the voice goes quiet for way too long , you shall walk backwards a little bit until you can turn around and leave the forest , you were not selected . When you have been accepted - the stinging point is generally where your identification symbol is ( The Operator Symbol ) . From what I've seen , it's in places where you can just easily flash it at someone to identify yourself - yet it can range from person to person .

So , if you became those proxy fucks , congrats buddy - from what I've seen , there is a hierarchy to proxies , the new ones don't get the dirty work , although worship has been positively received .

Hope the best for you and your journey - happy transitioning < 3

[moonlightsturns]

Behind the Lens

how they met and all that shit

It had been a typical Thursday afternoon, the kind of quiet day that left the streets of your college campus deserted. You were huddled in your small, cluttered apartment, a canvas sprawled out in front of you, the familiar smell of paint thick in the air. The deadline for your next art show was approaching quickly, but the swirling colors on your palette weren’t coming together in the way you wanted.

You were lost in the strokes of the brush when the sound of a knock at your door made you jump. A quick glance at the clock told you it was far too late for a delivery. Reluctantly, you set your paintbrush down, wiping your hands on a rag before answering the door.

Standing there, holding a camera and a grin that was far too practiced, was Matt Sturniolo. You recognized him immediately, he was one of the photographers who'd been hired for the upcoming gallery show where your work would be displayed.

"Hey, y/n," he said with a charm that made your heart flutter despite yourself. "Sorry to bother you this late. I was wondering if you'd be interested in doing a quick shoot for some promotional photos? Just a few candid shots of you working on your art."

You blinked, surprised by the request. You didn’t know him well, and the idea of having your process captured made you feel oddly vulnerable. But Matt was persistent, and his quiet demeanor made it hard to say no.

"Uh, I don’t usually—" You hesitated, looking at your apartment, the mess of unfinished art projects. You had nothing prepared for a shoot.

Matt took a step forward, his eyes locking with yours. "It doesn’t need to be anything fancy. I just think your work deserves to be seen. And you have a… unique way of creating. It’d be a shame to not capture it."

There was something in his voice, a hint of something you couldn’t place. It sounded so genuine, so warm. But something in the back of your mind whispered that you didn’t really know him, not the way he made you believe.

After a brief pause, you agreed, and Matt set up his camera in your living room. He was quiet, almost too quiet as he worked, his gaze never leaving you, always studying. The click of his camera filled the space between you, and despite the initial unease you felt, something about the way he captured your every move made you forget for a moment that this wasn’t just a photo shoot, it was something else entirely.

You tried to shake the feeling as you moved around your apartment, posing in front of the canvas, looking over your shoulder as he snapped more shots. But there was an underlying tension in the air you couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just his camera lens focused on you, it was something deeper, something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

When the shoot was over, Matt left with a polite smile, thanking you for your time. You closed the door behind him, your mind racing. It wasn’t the shoot itself that had bothered you, it was the way Matt had looked at you, as though he was seeing more than just your art.

The next few days passed uneventfully, but as you went about your routine, you began to notice odd things: Matt’s name kept cropping up, even in places you hadn’t expected. He had liked every post on your social media, commented on your sketches, and once, you could’ve sworn you saw him standing in the café window, watching you work.

At first, you brushed it off. Maybe he was just a fan of your art. But the way he always seemed to appear at the exact moment you needed something, like the time you were walking home and found him sitting on the bench just outside your building, camera resting on his lap, began to unsettle you.

You started to feel his gaze on you more often, like an invisible weight you couldn’t escape. Matt was always there, always watching. His presence was impossible to ignore, and as the days wore on, his attention became more intrusive.

One evening, you found a small envelope left on your doorstep. Inside, there was a photograph of you from the art show, one taken at an angle where you hadn’t even noticed the camera. Your stomach churned as you stared at it, your mind racing. You knew you hadn’t posed for that shot. It was a candid moment, a split second you hadn’t even known was being captured.

That was the moment the realization hit you like a cold slap. Matt hadn’t just been photographing you, he’d been watching you. Studying you. And now, somehow, you were unsure if you were the one in control of your own story or if he had already written it.

pt 2 ?

Taglist: @phone4pills @chrissweetheart @kennastromboli @sophand4n4 @shadowthesim @trevorsgodmother @sofsturnz689

[apologetic-artist]

First batch of designs!!! I hope y'all like em hehe :3

(Yapping about my designs and future designs under cut hehe[LOTS OF WORDS AND STUFFS!!])

Sketch: The sweater that they're wearing under their shirt is actually one of Tony's old sweaters he grew out of. I wanted to go for a mixed match look with a lot of color while avoiding visual looks of green for obvious reasons. I think they're one of the more outgoing of the bunch, especially since I think they're one of the younger ones(like late 20's, early 30's) so I tried to fit that in their design. Definitely one of my favorites out of my designs.

Tony: Looking at my previous ref sheet of her, I'd say this is a major upgrade. Not a lot has changed about him except for some tiny things and the colors. I love this pose. Also, at the ends of her suit jacket, they look like little clock hands, I thought it was cute. With Tones, I kinda just took inspiration from everyone else drawing him with formal attire, but I think mostly everyone sees him wearing a suit or something adjacent.

Shrignold: For the information, it has a bit of question marks I should talk about real quick. The question marks on the species was just a silly little joke to reference what Yellow called them in their episode and people headcannoning Shrig as more of a moth than a butterfly, which I totally see where they're coming from because I don't know what my Shrig is anymore. As for the relationship status, nobody(not even them) are sure if they're dating or not. Sure, there's a lot of evidence, but it is still a confusing relationship. I can talk about it more when I post my Larry with its respective headcannons.

Colin: My bbg. Anyway, with his old design, he was way too lanky, and it kinda looked off. The colors were also way too dull, so I made them a little more pastel. Also, Lana is the name for Laptop, not sure if it'll change, so this is kinda a placeholder. I also added some cute patches to their overalls to reference their digital world since I wanted more representation of that part of their character in their design. I just love Colin if you couldn't tell lmao. I feel like all the new details are a major upgrade.

FUTURE DESIGN SECTION!!:

The reason why the Health gang isn't in this is because I'll make a post of all of them together in a group bc I believe they should all go together. It may take me a long time since I, to be honest, never really cared to make designs for them. The reason why I haven't yet is because GOOD LORD they are kinda hard to translate to my style, specifically Steak and Fridge. I'll figure it out eventually.

The same goes for the love cult. Trust me, I wanna draw them so bad(might get to them before the Healthy Gang). All I'm saying is that that bunny is coming first he's literally my favorite. I love that blue bunny boy so much.

Larry might also need to go into his own post. There is so much, and that's all I'm really saying so far.

Listen, I'll only draw the machine teachers if i wanna, there are too many.

The TV teachers will obviously get designs, no doubt.

Also, have a scrapped outfit for Shrignold! I decided this should just be just for when it's in the cult :]

That's about it!! Thanks for reading my ramble. Have a good night/day/afternoon/whatever time of day it is!! :D

[bokutooooo]

Dream Ride PT- 2 ᰔᩚ

The annoying sounds of my alarm clock going off waking me up almost instantly and I can already feel my head pounding. Last night I ended up going to one of Han's infamous parties and let's just say it was fun. "Morning Cassidy, how'd you sleep?" Cassidy was my aunt, one of the main reasons I came to Japan after mom threw me out. "it was fine, woke up a couple of times but nothing to bad. How's Neela? you girls have fun? being careful I hope". I grab a box of cereal and a bowl "It was fun I mean just regular car stuff.. Neela likes my car so that's good" I laugh thinking about how Neela kept asking me to let her drive it. "I'm glad, just make sure you guys are being careful and staying out of trouble" I give her a nod walking towards the small couch. I haven't really told her anything about Han I don't think she'll like it, which means I probably shouldn't be getting involved with him but can you blame me? his shoulder length jet black hair, his little smile and I mean have you seen the 1997 Mazda RX-7 it's almost to nice. "Hey? you going to start getting ready? Don't want you getting yelled at again."

"Hey Neela whatcha doing?" I say as I'm walking into class. "Nothing too exciting just sketching something knew, you think I should get a Toyota Supra? I mean how cute would that be." I lightly laugh "I think you should get whatever you like, you have the time and money right? so do it." she gives me a small smile and continues sketching away.

I sat down as our professor walked in, all I could ever think about was cars, friends and.. well Han. I know it's stupid, thinking about a guy who pays me little to no attention but I can't stop. My grades were going down, I was starting to care less and stop trying but If I don't start picking them back up my aunt will notice and question me than I would have to tell her something. "Hey! let's go times up" I look up and Neela's waiting for me "class is over? already?" I swear class just started "Yeah??? let's go weirdo."

Me and Neela were out shopping "What about this one? it's cuteee, c'monnnn look at the lace lining" I look up from my phone. She was buying a new skirt.. yet all the ones she's tried on were kind of.. ugly? "No." I look back down "whatever!" she aggressively shuts the the curtains of the change room. "How's Hanny booooo have you texted him? "Why would I be texting him?" she pops her head out "because you like love him? and you always want to talk to him."

"Well I haven't talked to him since the party so." It's true I do love finding an excuse to talk to him but I guess I'm starting to realize that we have like no chance together. "What's up? you suddenly stopped liking him?" "No it's just- It's not going to happen. Like ever, so I'm going to stop being a fangirl and find someone else. Plus Cassidy would ever approve and I won't let her down."

"Oh come on! you guys like.. love each other!! maybe thats to quick.. but! you guys love talking to one another and love hanging out, so who cares what others think? Cassidy you'll talk to when it happens, don't worry about before it even happens."

Neela had a point but I'm not even sure I was ready, I don't even know how Han feels.

Once Neela found an outfit she liked we went to go eat. "Hey Neela I'm gonna go grab something from Starbucks want something?" "mmm.. sure! just an iced coffee please."

"Hey Neela got your ice-" I paused, DK and Morimoto sat on either side of her. "Oh hey DK what are you doing here?" "Just came for something to do, ran into you two." Neela looked a bit uncomfortable, DK practically breathing on her and Morimoto right on the other side "Me and Neela were just about to leave but we'll probably see you guys tonight." "Yeah sorry guys see you later!"

Tonight was one of the biggest Drift events of the year. It would be packed, cars in every spot, people everywhere, music blasting and food. That's why me and Neela went shopping, had to look extra good tonight. "Why was DK like breathing down you're neck? he's pretty clingy for someone your not dating" "I know but we've been best friends for agesss, kind of hard to just stop you know?"

"Eeee! look at it! so cute!!" I was admiring my self In the full body mirror. I had white leg warmers with pompoms on them, and light pink tank top with a dark pink outline and a white headband. "look at you cutie!" "never mind meee look at you beautiful" Neela had on a short denim skirt, black military boots with a heel and half up half down hairstyle with a bow. "ready to go? we should try to get there before it gets to packed, gonna need to park somewhere."

Hope you enjoyed this part!>

[charliedawn]

What if the slashers kept a journal ?

Bo was taking care of one of the employees' car���which had a flat tire—when you decided it was the perfect time to do a round check of all the bedrooms. All of the slashers had to keep a journal and you thought it would be alright to just give it a quick look to see their progress.

However, Bo's journal seemed very well hidden and then, you found out that his desk was slightly off-centred. It was by palming haphazardly the underneath of his desk that you found the journal—hidden inside a secret compartment he had surely crafted himself.

"You clever clock.", you whistled admiratively with a proud smile. You then opened it and frowned as you noticed that the first page was blank...and the second...and the third. Why was it empty ?!

"Can I help ya ?"

You were surprised to hear Bo's voice behind you and quickly turned around. He eyed the journal in your hands and looked up at you before blinking several times. He seemed to catch up quickly on what you were doing by how guilty you looked.

"Anythin' interesting in there, nurse?"

However, instead of replying, you threw the journal on the bed scurried off of the room as quickly as you had entered it. As soon as the door was locked, he smiled and walked to his desk. He checked that his real journal was still there—hidden underneath some mechanical engineering book—and smiled when he realized it was...

He chuckled knowingly.

"Noisy lil' darlin'."

In Vincent's journal, there were merely animal pics and various unreadable scribbles. You couldn't possibly read the things written, so you focused on the photographs and smiled at the various subjects...until you arrived to the last days' entries. Now, you knew Vincent to be easily obsessed. He had once followed a bird for hours—only to draw a sketch of it. However, you had never seen him get obsessed over an actual human being—until today.

There were only photographs of you.

You. Eating.

You. Talking.

You...Sleeping.

Oh...You blushed and promptly closed the journal before hiding it back underneath his pillow. However, when you turned around—you fell face to face with Vincent.

He looked successively between you and his pillow and finally, it clicked. He tried stop say something—but by then, you were already gone. You had snuck past him. He stood still for a second or two before re-opening the diary. He gently stroke the last photograph he had taken of you—smiling at him.

It was his best one yet...

Sex jokes. So many sex jokes. You thought that man would take the time to write profound meaningful things ? Ah ! Joke's on you.

However, he smiled when he saw you reading his diary. He stayed there for a moment before creeping his way in and surprising you by suddenly pulling your head back.

"Haven't you heard the expression curiosity killed the cat, sweetheart ?", he asked with a threatening grin and you shrugged.

"Haven't you heard bastards usually get cooked ?", you shot back.

At this point, you didn't give a toss that he had caught you—with the amount of garbage you had read. His whole brain needed to be purged in holy water.

"It doesn't make any sense.", he snarled and you offered him a sweet smile before taking a lighter on the table.

"Yes. It means let me go, Krueger...before I burn you somewhere that REALLY hurts.", you his in-between meaningfully—but it didn't seen to be efficient. It only spurred him on as he closed the door with his foot.

"Hmm...Nah. Don't think I will."

No need to say...Freddy got more than one additional burn that day.

Brahms was so discreet—you didn't notice when he approached you from behind. He glanced at what page you were on and realized it was a part when he described you.

Curious. Nice. Beautiful...

You smiled at the compliments, but realized that he had missed the point of the exercise. It was to focus on himself and reach deep. However, Brahms didn't like people reading his secrets.

His chest heaved heavily and in a matter of seconds, your back was against the door and he had removed his mask. You wanted to read all about his secrets ? He would make you sing yours.

Jason mostly wrote random words he learned. He couldn't make full sentences yet—but he mostly tried to write words and various emotions or actions of the day.

Cutting. Eating. Cooking.

He didn't like making sentences—so he usually only writes down random words. He described people he met, places he went to and his feelings.

You smiled.

He might be the only one who had listened to you and tried to fill their journal with what they felt. You flipped quickly through the different entries until you reached the final one. You were then pleasantly surprised by finding a few sentences. But that pleasant feeling quickly disappeared when you read.

'Hello, mommy. I have friends now. I think you would like them. And I...I met someone. I think you'd like them too. They like us. They take care of us. I miss you. But I...I think I'll be alright.'

You let out a few tears as you imagined Jason writing those words. He had learned so much and you weren't afraid to say that you were proud of him. And you were sure his mother would be too if she could see him.

Michael could smell you. He knew you had been in his room and every single thing you touched. The scent lingered on his diary and on one page in particular—one he didn't think was that important.

It was a photograph. A photograph of all the slashers reunited on Christmas. It was also the only day Carrie and Sadako were allowed in the facility.

Jason had taken that photograph before giving it to Michael as a present. He is completely forgotten about it, but smiled faintly at the realization that you had chosen this page in particular made it special.

He sighed before sitting on his bed and closing the journal. He looked out at the garden where you were helping Freddy with the bad weed.

You looked so...perfect. And that made you precious in Michael's mind—but also dangerous. He had this urge to protect you clashing with the need to kill you. It was exhausting to keep that last urge at bay, and he was afraid of what he might do if you were to ever know about his feelings...But, he wasn't worried.

You would never feel the same...right ?

Jack writes down everything—and I mean everything. He can fill an entire book about his day. He also has a big memory and can remember the tiniest of details.

That was the reason why you had decided to read his entries—in case he would have written something you had missed.

What you found inside made your eyes widen.

He had studied them all. And it wasn't just moments. It was fully-detailed portraits. Physical. Mental. Psychological...He had recorded ever trait, every change...And not only about the slashers or the other patients.

But the staff as well. And of course, you. You learnt that he had memorized everything to you taste of cake and the type of clothes you wore for every occasion. It was impressive—but also rather worrying.

"Well well...Wasn't expecting any visitors."

You turned around swiftly add found him standing there with a smug look on his face. He didn't seem to mind you reading his journal. He simply tilted his head with a knowing smirk and you let the journal fall to the floor before slowly backing away.

"I was just..." His eyes didn't leave yours before he stepped out of the way.

"Here you go, nurse. You can go."

You eyed the door suspiciously. Could you...really ? But, you didn't want to stay and ask—so you walked out. Jack's eyes followed you until you were out of view before smiling and picking his journal back up.

New entry: Nurse Y/N doesn't seem to be very happy about being the studied subject for once...

Pennywise hadn't written anything. You were partly disappointed, but not that surprised. Pennywise didn't like sharing—and that was even with himself. He was complicated and he refused to acknowledge his own feelings.

But, that was okay.

You closed the diary and looked at Pennywise who was sitting in his favorite rocking chair and was staring ahead at things you couldn't fathom.

Maybe were there ghosts of his past ? You didn't know. Maybe would he open up some day. But, you'd wait until then.

They ran. They all ran. And I chased after them. Their little hearts pounded loudly in their chests as I trapped them. Their wide eyes fixed on me.

You had mainly a lot of notes on his time when he had to face the Losers' club. Penny was oddly specific on the gore details of his past kills. But, you needed to understand him—so you digged dipper.

You read everything—everything until you found something truly important.

I'm losing my memory...Pennywise says it's normal. But, I can't even remember who I was before. What was my name ? I think I was a clown...But, I don't know anymore. I think I had a daughter. But, I don't remember her name.

Penny was...losing his memory ? You looked up and saw him playing with the other younger slashers in the garden. He was smiling and carelessly chasing after them. But, what if...there was more to him than you had initially thought ?

Ghostface had refused to show his face to anyone. You had simply wanted to get to know him better. You knew that searching though his personal entries for answers wasn't really nurse-worthy...But, he refused to open up. However, before you could read as much as a few words—he had grabbed the diary from your hands and pressed his knife against your throat.

"Now now...nursy. Spying ? That's not very ethical of you.", he teased and you closed your eyes.

He seemed pissed by the way his voice became slightly more high-pitched and you knew that you should be afraid—but something else crossed your mind.

"What is you favorite scary movie ?", you muttered and Ghostface tilted his head quizzically.

"...What ?"

You slowly turned around to face him fully and he didn't stop you.

"That is the question you ask to all the patients. The question you always ask to everyone you meet. Are you...", you looked up—even though you couldn't really judge his reaction. "...searching for someone ?"

Ghostface stayed uncharacteristically quiet for a moment before clenching his fists.

"Leave. Now.", he uttered in a quiet whisper and you didn't dare defy him—as you knew by the way he had suddenly tensed up that you weren't welcome anymore.

The moment you were out, he slammed the door and locked the door before removing his mask and throwing it to the ground angrily. He was was conflicted. He was ashamed that you had succeeded in seeing right through him so quickly. And, he couldn't tell you—not yet. He opened his diary and sighed. He couldn't tell you that the answer he was searching for was Psychose. 1960. His father's favorite scary movie.

It was the only information he had—that and that he was a patient in St Louis. He looked up at the ceiling and suddenly threw the diary in the fire heating up the room.

No one would know. He wouldn't risk it.

[bluegekk0]

Vyrm family home - Bottom floor pt. 2

Time to finish the tour of the bottom floor before I show the upper floor (which will most likely just be one post). This one will be long since I wanted to go more in-detail, as I wanted to include some subtle storytelling elements related to each character.

First, let's start with Holly's bedroom:

The room is cozy, but it's kept very tidy compared to the rest of the house. The only thing you will find on the floor, aside from the hide rug, are some pillows Holly sits on.

To the left of the door is Holly's desk, this is where they do most of their sewing and sketching (pretend the sketches on the wall aren't of human figures haha). They tend to find chairs fairly uncomfortable to sit on due to their height, which is why they use pillows for that purpose instead.

The two main themes of their room are plants and art. Since they enjoy gardening, they often move the former hobby inside to their little gardening stand. This is where they prepare all the potted plants you can find all over the house. A painting easel made by Vyrm is another feature of Holly's room, during bad weather you can find it here, but if it's sunny outside they will often move it to the garden area.

---

Next, there is Hornet's room:

A near complete 180 from the tidiness of Holly's room, Hornet seems to flourish in all the mess. It is by no means a gross room, it is simply used all the time. Books, pillows and hunting tools are all over the floor, often simply moved to the side to make way, which is why you'll sometimes find them piled up.

Unlike the rest of the family, Hornet's bed is elevated higher above the floor. She feels more comfortable sleeping above ground like this, likely a habit she got after surviving in the wilderness. Under the bed you'll find one of the two desks in Hornet's room, this one specifically used for reading and sewing. If you look closely at the bookshelf next to it, you may find a plushie. In this case it's a rabbit, but what I had in mind was that it was a stuffed toy Grimm gave her when she was a child, which she somehow managed to keep in one piece for all the years.

The corner to the right of the door is where she puts all her tools and bags for hunting, though you'll find some book piles there as well. On the wall are sketches of various flora of Hallownest, another hint at her hunter-gatherer profession.

To the other side, there is the second desk, the purpose of which becomes immediately clear. This is her work station, her job in Dirtmouth is to hunt and gather food. She displays some trophies on the wall, which is a hint towards another hobby of hers - she likes to make jewelry out of animal parts such as horns, claws or bones, which she then sells on the market for extra geo. The other weapons in the room aren't as in-universe friendly as I'd like, but I managed to find a neat little workaround for her needle (using a scaled up wand from the spellcaster pack haha)

And lastly there is a little corner which she likes to call her little unwinding zone. If she feels angry for whatever reason, she throws a bunch of small blades at the wall to calm down. On the other wall, she displays more weapons and tools, some made by herself, some made for her by Vyrm.

---

Lastly, it's time for Vyrm's workshop, and his shop.

The entrance to the workshop is in the living room, right by the door to the bathroom. It leads to a small corridor used mostly for storage. Behind the second door, you'll find Vyrm's workshop.

His main desk is right behind the corner to the left. This is where he does most of his planning and smaller tinkering work. On the wall next to it, there are sketches with clock-related blueprints, as well as little notes he writes down as reminders: special orders from customers, quick ideas he wants to expand on in his journal later, or simply reminders of specific dates and events so that he doesn't forget.

Nearby you will find his woodworking station. On top of working on clocks and similar mechanisms, he also dabbles in woodwork, mostly for specific projects, though in his spare time he also makes simple wooden figures to sell in his shop.

Next to it is another desk. This is where he experiments with prototypes for Holly's arm, and tries out designs for prosthetic limbs for anyone who may need them. If not that, then he simply uses it as extra work space in case his main desk ends up too messy to use.

Lastly, there is a little rest area right by the door to the shop, used primarily by Grimm who likes to visit Vyrm at the workshop in his free time, though Vyrm himself also uses it whenever he's studying literature related to his work (or to simply take a break if the shop is particularly busy that day)

Speaking of, the door leads right into Vyrm's Tinkerer Shop as he called it (name subject to change if I feel inspired). This is where Vyrm sells his creations and takes special orders from any bug who visits.

The counter is where he serves the customers, and displays some of his work that he can make for order (which he writes down in the book). This can range from wooden figures and clocks, to keys, prosthetic limb designs and even custom made blades. That said, if you look around the shop, it soon becomes clear that clocks and watches are his main specialization. His shop is fairly popular for that reason, as he was the one to introduce them to Hallownest after years of iteration and experiments. Bugs from all over the land and even outside of it visit his shop to buy his designs and request any repairs in case their mechanisms break, maybe even buying one of his other creations in the meantime.

---

Apologies for the extremely long post, I was considering splitting it into more parts, but I don't want to drag these posts for too long (especially since they're not as popular as my art)

Previous post (Bottom floor pt.1)

[paralyze-fic]

Paralyze.

Chapter 97

Sunday  morning arrived quicker than expected. My internal clock woke me up early and reaching my phone I saw it was a little after 7 am. I got up with a grunt and mechanically did what I did every day, went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, took a quick shower, tried to style my hair somewhat decently, got dressed, grabbed my All Might notebook where the cards were, picked up a pen and walked out.

On my way out of my room, I grabbed one of my spare pair of shoes to wear outside and just placed them by the front door for later.

I was surprised to find pretty much half the class already awake, despite being a Sunday at 7 am... That's Hero Training for you, messes up your sleep schedule.

"Good morning," I muttered, receiving a variety of greetings, some more enthusiastic than others, like Iida, Yaomomo and Izuku, they were more cheerful than I was. Well, Iida was more so his usual intensity not really cheerfulness.

Katsuki, Shoto and Koda were more quiet, the blond responding with a grunt instead of words. Sero gave me a hand gesture to greet me, and Aoyama did a pose and began muttering about how it would be a beautiful day.

Glancing out the window, I saw some snow covering the grass outside, the pathway already shoveled.

"Breakfast's ready," Sato spoke, walking out the kitchen with cookies on a tray, Yaomomo following behind with many steaming mugs on a tray of her own. I sat at the table and Katsuki immediately took the seat next to me.

"Going somewhere?" He muttered, picking up a couple of cookies and taking a bite of one. I picked up my steaming mug with (tea/coffee/hotchoco), and gently blew on it before taking a small sip.

"Just heading home for a few hours, gotta give something to the little monsters," Katsuki looked at me, a small smirk showing on his face.

"Those two were something else," I felt my face heating up when I remembered them calling Katsuki 'nii-chan' and saying he will be my 'wife'. Now, I wasn't opposed to the idea, but I was still way to young to think of that, though my birthday was getting kinda close now that I thought about it.

So many things have happened since the beginning of the school year I kinda lost track of everything.

Breakfast went by without a hitch, eventually, the rest of the class woke up and made their own drinks. By the time we were done, Uraraka was the only one still asleep, so we agreed on putting some cookies in tupperware so she could eat them whenever she woke up.

By then, Aizawa had also showed up by the dorm, Eri in hand. The class was happy to see her, and asked Aizawa why was she here.

"Not that it's a bad thing! Not at all! We just wanna-!" Aizawa raised his hand so Izuku would stop talking, his voice getting more high-pitched and kinda breaking here and there.

"I'm here to ask you all to watch over her for a while, I'll be driving (M/n) to his parents' house for a few hours," at that, everyone turned to look at me and I was already putting on my shoes.

"Didn't know you were leaving, (L/n)-kun!" Iida spoke and I chuckled.

I took quick strides to the table where my notebook and pen were still on, "Aizawa-sensei didn't want to let ne go home by myself, something about developing bad habits," I spoke with a shrug as I zipped up my jacket up to my nose, and fixed my hood up.

"Ready to go?" Putting my hand in my pocket, I felt my phone in there so I nodded and we stepped out the dorm.

"See you later, everyone!"

I trailed behind Aizawa as we walked down the pathway and to the black sedan. I got in the passenger seat, buckled the seatbelt and opened my notebook while waiting for Aizawa to get in the car as well.

I began writing down and sketching some ideas to add or change from my gauntlets. Hatsume-chan wouldn't mind helping me, but she would definitely make a new design.

The door to my right closed and Aizawa started the car, seatbelt on, started the engine and pulled away from the dorm, heading toward my home.

The ride was mostly quiet, only the sound of me writing on paper and messy sketching on the pages while Aizawa focused on the road. Then my thoughts wandered to my parents and the twins. I was home two weeks ago for New Year but with everything that happened it felt like it had been way longer than that.

Briefly looking up and glancing out the window, I stared at the thin sheet of snow on the trees, some benches and rooftops. Something about the snow made everything feel serene, and I took a deep breath as I relaxed further on the seat, my head against the slightly condensed window.

My body felt incredibly heavy from exhaustion while simultaneously feeling weightless, like a feather flowing on the breeze. My body was tired, but my mind was at ease for once, briefly recalling everything that happened at my internship.

My thoughts drifted back to the intense moments at Endeavour’s agency, like the first time I struggled to keep up during a patrol with the trio. I remembered the frustration of feeling like I was holding them back, the burning in my legs as I pushed myself harder, and the quiet but firm encouragement from Burnin' that kept me going. Then it was that one moment in the simulation exercise where I finally trusted my instincts instead of overthinking, and it paid off. I could still hear Endeavour’s gruff praise echoing in my ears, even though I knew it was rare for him to give compliments. I wondered how much of that progress I’d be able to maintain now that I was back at school

After a few minutes of me mindlessly staring outside, the silence was broken, “You seem deep in thought," Aizawa-sensei's voice made me blink, realizing I had gotten lost in thought for a while.

I glanced over at him but he was staring ahead, and I looked back at my notes. I hesitated before responding, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

"I was... thinking about the internship," I finally admitted, fidgeting with my pen, "A lot happened, and it feels strange to be back."

Aizawa hummed, and I saw him nod, eyes still on the road, “Well, that’s normal. The transition between the field and school can be jarring, especially when you’ve experienced so much in a short period. But it’s important to take time to process it all."

His words made me smile. He always seemed to know what to say to cheer us up, even if he masked it as just being a strict teacher.

“It was… intense, but I learned a lot. I’m glad I got to experience it, even if it was tough. I just hope I'll be able to keep up with the internship and classes," the car stopped at a street light and Aizawa turned to look at me.

"Anyone that misses classes will have extra lessons to make up for that, so don't worry about it for now," I nodded in silence and returned to look out the window, closing the notebook with the pen inside it, "Remember to take care of yourself too, don't overwork yourself."

"I will, sensei." After that, the rest of the drive was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. The car’s heater was enough to keep us warm, and I watched the scenery outside gradually became more familiar too as we neared my house.

When we finally arrived, I was greeted with the familiar sight of the snow-covered driveway. I sighed and unbuckled my belt, I opened the door and before I could step foot outside the car, the front door of my house practically flew open.

Looking up, I saw the twins rushing outside, dressed up in cozy sweaters and at least wearing their slippers. "Nii-chan!" I smiled and pushed the door open to give them room to hug me, since they didn't give me time to get out.

"Boys, come back, it's cold outside!" Glancing over their shoulders I spotted my dad by the front porch, my mom behind him with a warm smile on her face.

"Come on, monsters, go with dad, I'll be there in a minute," they nodded effusively before running back to our parents. I took a deep breath, and turned around to face Aizawa, who wore the same look on his face as when he was watching Eri playing around, "Thanks for the ride, sensei."

"No problem," he replied, a subtle smile taking over his usual serious expression, “I figured it’d be good to ensure you got home safely."

I smiled back and grabbed my notebook, getting ready to step out. That's when I saw my mom walking toward us, which made me frown with curiosity, "Mom?" She smiled at me and leaned over to look at my teacher.

"Mr. Aizawa would you like to come inside for a bit? Of course, if you don't have anything else to do," she spoke softly, and glancing back I noticed him hesitating about accepting the offered, "I thought it'd be rude to leave you out here waiting for my little boy to come out, so I figured I could invite you to have some tea or coffee and just have a chat?"

Well, my mom had always been really convincing, but this was Aizawa-sensei, I wasn't sure if he'll-.

"If it's not too much trouble, Ms. (L/n)," oh damn, she did it.

Mom chuckled and waved a hand, "Not at all! Come on in, it's freezing out here."

She held my hand and helped me out of the car, closing the door behind me and she nudged me forward.

"Your brothers are waiting for you, go," I chuckled and obeyed, walking down the pathway cleared of the snow and gave a quick hug to my dad before coming inside.

I took my jacket and shoes off, putting my pair of slippers and going to the living room, where the twins were sitting on the couch, tho they were practically bouncing off it in excitement. The sight made me laugh and I opened the notebook, both cards behind the first page.

"Little monsters," I pulled the cards out and showed them.

"You did it!" They exclaimed and I walked a few steps closer to them. They patiently waited in front of me, holding onto my shirt with hardly contained happiness.

"Here, one for each," they grabbed them off my hand and looked at them, before frowning and swapping cards. I immediately knew they had gotten the card with each other's name which made me laugh.

"Thank you, nii-chan!" They exclaimed in unison and clung to me. Behind me, I heard the front door closing and glancing back, I saw Aizawa putting on some of my dad's spare slippers.

"Alright, come on, let's sit down," with both of them still clinging onto me, I dragged the three of us to the couch, which didn't take long because it was nearby but fuck, these two had gotten heavier.

We sat together on the couch and they were still gushing about their signed cards, when mom came by, "Do you want anything, honey?" I looked up at mom and smiled.

"Not really, I already had breakfast," she nodded and rushed to the kitchen.

Aizawa and my dad sat on the opposite couch from us, and soon started talking. I didn't know about what because I couldn't quite hear them, and I wasn't gonna try and gossip about their adult conversation, it was none of my business after all.

As I remained with the twins, I watched the nonstop gushing about their cards, showing them to me with big smiles on their flushed faces, making me chuckle as if I hadn't just given those cards to them.

A few minutes later, mom walked out of the kitchen, a tray with a few steaming mugs and two plates filled with brownies. She sat them on the coffee table and I made eye contact with my mom. Judging by the look on her face, she knew I wanted to grab one, so she chuckled and rubbed her hands with a warm look in her eyes.

"Go on, you can eat."

I reached forward and grabbed one brownie while the twins grabbed two each after carefully setting their cards down on the table.

Mom grabbed a mug and handed it to Aizawa who muttered a quiet 'thank you' with a small bow and held it with both hands. He seemed so out of place, but thankfully, my mom knew just how to make friends with everyone.

///////

While the twins and I spoke about my internship, my parents were talking to Aizawa. Of course, I made sure to leave out the small details like how I gave up halfway, and the dangerous situations we encountered. They listened attentively with bright eyes as they heard how "cool and serious" Endeavour was up close.

"Wanna know something even better, monsters?" They nodded and I slouched down so they would get closer to me, wanting in on the secret, "We went to his house and had dinner," I whispered and they seemed ready to scream.

"Dinner with Endeavour?! Nii-chan!" I laughed as they started shaking me back and forth, and well, that caught the attention of the three adults.

"Huh? Dinner with Endeavour?" Dad wondered and I nodded, holding the twins in place, squeezing them against my sides.

"Yeah, Shouto's older sister wanted to meet his friends," the whole conversation about their eldest brother, Touya, flashed in my mind and I was hoping my distress wasn't obvious on my expression, "We had fun, though it was a little awkward at first," I snickered and decided to swap my attention back to the little monsters, tickling them and causing them to jump off the couch.

"Nii-chan! No tickle monster," I smiled at them and raised my hands innocently.

"For now~," I said in a playful voice and they flinched with wide smiles on their faces.

"Boys," mom called us so we looked at her, "Shouldn't you get started on your school project? Since your brother is here you can do it now, how about it?" I frowned and looked at the twins who had suddenly gotten a bright shine in their eyes.

"Yes! Good idea, mom!" Ryo exclaimed while Akira came over to me and he grabbed my hands, pulling me toward him so I would stand up from the couch, "Nii-chan, come on, we have work to do."

They each held one of my hands and began dragging me to their room. I looked over my shoulder at my parents and I saw my mom covering her smile with her hand while dad shook his head fondly with a warm smile on his face. Aizawa looked quite amused at the scene.

As soon as they dragged me in, I couldn't help but noticed the organized chaos on their low table pushed against a wall, covered with school supplies —papers, pens, pencils, glue, tape and scissors— and on that wall there was a big cork board with a couple pictures of me. Drawings and actual pictures.

Stepping closer, I realized they were taken from TV news and their websites. There was shots of me from the Sports Festival; the Obstacle Course, the Calvary Battle and the 1vs1 combats. Ending with a picture of me standing on the podium, my golden medal hanging around my neck with a wide yet tired expression on my face.

Surrounded by the pictures, was a sticky note; What did you feel when you won the Sports Festival?

There was more than just that. The Shie Hassaikai was there. The High-End Nomu in Kyushu with Endeavour and Hawks. At the Nabu Island when we had to protect Mahoro and Katsuma. A few of the incidents during my internship... Including the pastry incident.

So that's what I looked like, no wonder Katsuki found it hilarious.

A few pictures showed me with my classmates and/or senpais, and everything was neatly separated and arranged in a somehow accurate chronological order, a different few questions to each of those sections.

The top of the corkboard had a blank piece of paper, and I figured the title of the project was gonna be there.

I snapped out of my stupor when I heard something behind me, so I glanced over my shoulder to see Akira and Ryo pulling their low chairs closer to the table.

“What’s all this?” I asked, glancing back and forth between them. They looked up at me and then at the board, and they were suddenly bouncing on their feet with enthusiasm.

Akira, always the more talkative of the two, eagerly stepped forward and pointed to the corkboard, “This is our project, Nii-chan! It’s about heroes, but more importantly, it’s about you!”

"Yeah! Look at this!" Ryo exclaimed, standing on his tippy toes to grip the paper at the top and pulling it off. Apparently it was just covering the title, and the words I read almost made me start crying like a little boy again.

Our Favourite Hero, the top of the board read, obviously put together with cut out letter from magazines which gave it a childish charm that made me smile.

"We got assigned this project over the winter break, but we couldn't get much done without you since you were busy with your internship," I looked at Ryo and he fidgeted with his fingers, the exact way I did. I got down on my knees and gently messed with his hair.

"You could have still called me and I would have picked up, monsters," at that, Akira shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

"We didn't want to interrupt your training, nii-chan, you're gonna be a hero, right? The greatest one at that, so you needed to focus on that!" Somehow, looking at them right now, I felt so incredibly proud of these two.

"Come here, monsters," I pulled them in a tight hug and they hugged me back without complaining, "I'm gonna be a hero you'll be proud of... I promise."

The twins giggled and nestled further against me, their arms wrapping around my waist. It was a simple moment of warmth and connection, and I cherished it deeply.

“Now that you’ve had your big brother hug,” I said with a soft chuckle, “What’s next on the agenda?”

They had a quick glance exchange before Akira turned to the table to fix some of the mess, “Well, we’ve been working on something special for the project. We wanted to do an interview with you, nii-chan!” At that, Ryo nodded eagerly.

“Yeah! We’re going to ask you questions about being a hero and your experiences. It’s part of our project, and we think it’ll be awesome!” My eyebrows raised, impressed at their decision to make an interview feature.

“An interview, huh? That sounds pretty cool. Alright, where do we start?” I asked as I stood up and went over to their bean bag, dragging it closer to the table.

The twins quickly set up their low chairs at the table too, positioning them so they could face me. Ryo grabbed a notebook and a pen, while Akira shuffled through a stack of neatly organized cards.

“Okay, let’s get started!” Akira announced enthusiastically, making me hold back a chuckle. He picked up one of the cards and cleared his throat dramatically, “First question: What was the most exciting part of the Sports Festival for you?”

I tilted my head as I thought about the Sports Festival. And I got my answer pretty quickly.

“Honestly, the most exciting part was the final match against Katsuki. It was intense, and competing with someone as strong as him made it even more memorable. I pushed myself to do my best, and it felt great to come out on top," I finished with a smile.

Ryo jotted down my answer with a concentrated look, then Akira eagerly flipped to the next card when he received a signal to continue asking, “What about the Shie Hassaikai incident? How did you feel during that battle?”

My smile faded slightly as I remembered the seriousness of the situation. I wasn't expecting them to ask about it so soon, and I couldn't give them the gruesome reality of that mission, so I decided to ease it down a bit, painting the picture a lot brighter than it was.

“That was a tough fight. We were up against some really dangerous villains, and it was challenging," I had to bite my tongue when I remembered Nighteye, "But we saved a little girl, someone who couldn't protect herself, so we had to step in to ensure her safety.”

At that, Akira and Ryo looked at me in awe, before Ryo went back to writing my answer. Akira nodded thoughtfully and then held up another card, “And what about your internship with Endeavour? What was it like working with him?”

Well, of course they would asked me about the number one hero, it was only natural. I chuckled softly at that, and let out content sigh, feeling my mood lighten up again, “Endeavour is a very intense and strict hero, but I learned a lot from him. His dedication to hero work is admirable, and it pushed me to improve my own skills. It was challenging but also incredibly rewarding," I spoke with a proud smile on my face. Yeah, maybe he is a shitty father, but he's a great hero, no one can deny that.

The twins were scribbling furiously, clearly delighted with my answers, Akira repeated my words the best he could while Ryo's hand seemed to move at the speed of light to write as quick as possible, making me chuckle to myself. After that, their questions were more about my classmates, the hardest parts about training to be a hero, and even my thoughts on some of the villains we've fought.

When they finally reached the last question, Akira read through it before looking up at me with a big smile on his face, “If you could give one piece of advice to future heroes, what would it be?”

Oh, well, I wasn't sure I could give advice... No, I can. I took a deep breath and thought for a moment on how to word it, and answered as sincerely as I could.

“My advice would be to never give up, no matter how tough things get," my words came from a place of understanding after facing hardships and overcoming my own limits this winter break, I really understood why heroes gave this type of advice often, "Believe in yourself and your abilities, and always keep striving to be the best hero you can be. It’s the perseverance and dedication that make a true hero," I finished with a smile, something strange swirling in my chest. Something like relief, and longing. It felt nostalgic. Kinda missing who I was before the internship but liking who it had shaped me into.

Ryo beamed with satisfaction and set down his pen, “Thanks, nii-chan! This is going to make our project amazing," they stood up from their chairs and rushed to hug me. I ruffled their hair and placed a kiss on the crown of their heads.

"You did amazing putting this whole thing together, little monsters, I'm proud of you two," they blushed and smiled brightly, "Need help with anything else?"

They looked at each other for a moment, and something similar to realization appeared in their eyes, "Can we get a Katsuki-nii exclusive interview?"

I blinked at them, kinda surprised that they wanted to add Katsuki onto the board, but I couldn't hold back my smile as I pulled out my phone to call Katsuki.

"Let's see, hopefully he's not busy," the call went through and I put it on speaker, placing it on the table as we waited for my boyfriend to pick up, "You know? Maybe he's working out so he might-."

Oh, nevermind.

"Hey, dumbass, what's up?" Katsuki's voice echoed in the room with a soft grunt.

I chuckled and shifted around on the bean bag, crossing my arms while trying to hold back a smirk, "So, Katsuki, I'm with the monsters and they've been working on a project for school," I took a pause to let the words sink in and he hummed, signaling me to continue, "They wanna ask you a few questions, if it's okay with you?"

There was a small pause, where we were able to hear some voices in the background which slowly faded away. Then there was a door opening and closing, followed by the wheels of a chair scraping along the floor.

"Sure, that's good by me, but this better don't take long, brats," looking over at them, I watched them exchanging excited glances and going back to their previous roles. Akira picked up a different stack of cards and did the same as before, dramatically cleared his throat before speaking, and I could hear the faint sound Katsuki holding in his laugh.

"Okay, first question, Katsuki-nii!" Akira said, his voice filled with anticipation, "What’s the most fun thing about training with (M/n)-nii-chan?"

There a moment of silence as the question hung in the air for a moment, and I wondered how Katsuki would respond. Then, with a snort, he answered, "Fun? I don’t know about ‘fun.’ But training with that idiot always gets me fired up. He doesn’t back down from a challenge, and it pushes me to go even harder. We’ve had some crazy sparring matches that’ve probably scared the hell out of the others."

The twins scribbled down his words, their faces lighting up as they processed his response, and I smiled at the handful of times something like that has happened. 

"Next question!" Ryo said eagerly, flipping to the next card. "Has nii-chan ever beaten you in training?"

"Tch," Katsuki scoffed, and I could practically hear the smirk in his voice, "He’s gotten a few hits in, I’ll give him that, but beaten me? He wishes. We’re pretty evenly matched most of the time, but I’m still stronger, if there's a moment he does win, it’s ‘cause I let him. Gotta keep him motivated, y’know?"

I chuckled softly at that, shaking my head. That is so typical of you, Katsuki, never one to admit defeat, even when it's just merely friendly completion or harmless training. Of course, I was gonna let Katsuki have the spotlight and let the twins admire him too.

After chuckling to themselves, they quickly moved on to the next question, Akira's eyes flicking to the card in his hand.

"What’s nii-chan’s most annoying habit during training?" Katsuki scoffed and there was some shifting around, he was probably leaning back on the chair.

"He’s has this stupid habit of overthinking every single thing, like he'll be fighting just fine and then freeze out of nowhere. I understand he wants to do everything perfectly, but his hesitation is gonna bite him in the ass one of these days," I felt myself shrinking on the bean bag, whining quietly.

"Mean... But true," I muttered with a small smile, causing the twins to giggle at my words. Ryo's hand moved on the paper as he wrote Katsuki's answer, while Akira moved on to the next question.

"Alright, Katsuki-nii," he said, a wide grin spreading across his face, "What’s something you admire about nii-chan?"

The line went quiet for a moment, and I could almost feel Katsuki’s hesitation for a couple of seconds, but soon, his voice came through, sounding softer, more genuine, "He’s got a stupid big heart. No matter how tough things get, he’s always looking out for the people around him. It’s annoying sometimes ‘cause it makes him hesitate, but it’s also what makes him a real hero. He’s not just doing this to be the best; he actually gives a damn about people."

That answer hit me harder than I expected, and I found myself swallowing the lump in my throat at the raw sincerity in Katsuki's voice. I will cuddle him all night, I swear...

The twins seemed to sense the shift in tone too, their expressions turning more serious as they wrote down his words.

Ryo was the one to break the brief silence this time, not even looking at the card on Akira's hand, "What’s a funny memory you have with (M/n)-nii-chan?" Katsuki’s laugh was immediate, a short, scoffing sound that made me curious.

"Oh, that’s easy. There was this one time during training when he tried to do this super fancy move he supposedly saw on TV or whatever, and he ended up tripping over his own feet, face-planting right into the ground. The whole class lost it. Of course, he got up like nothing happened, trying to play it cool, but he was about to combust from embarrassment," he cackled for a few seconds, and the twins laughed too, Ryo struggling to write down his answer because of how much his body trembled with laughter. Then Katsuki let out an exaggerated sigh, "We still give him crap about it sometimes."

I couldn’t help but snicker alongside them, even if the memory was a little embarrassing, it was something the whole class turned to whenever they needed a laugh and it was all in good fun, after all.

"And what about your favorite memory with nii-chan?" Akira asked once they’d calmed down, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"Probably the time we both got stuck on cleanup duty after a mission went longer than expected. We were both exhausted, but we just started talking about random crap—movies, food, whatever. It was nice, y’know? Just being able to chill and talk without any of the usual competition or training pressure," Katsuki’s voice softened again, his tone more gentle, "Moments like those make you remember why you're training. To maintain that peace everywhere you go."

The twins nodded, their expressions thoughtful as they wrote down his answer. I could tell they were starting to see a different side of Katsuki, the side that wasn’t all explosions and shouting.

Taking the final card from Akira's hand, Ryo asked, "Last question, Katsuki-nii! If you had to pick one hero skill that nii-chan is better at than you, what would it be?"

Katsuki let out a low grunt, clearly reluctant to admit anything.

"He’s better at playing nice with others. Not that it matters in a real fight, but he’s good at getting people to work together. Makes him a solid leader, I guess. Not that I’d... ever admit that to his face," his voice at the end got quiet, and I could tell he was feeling shy, definitely aware that he just blurted that out with me in the room. it made me smile to hear him talk about me like that.

The twins finished writing with satisfied grins, clearly proud of the answers they’d gotten from my boyfriend. I smiled too, feeling a strange warmth in my chest. It wasn’t often that Katsuki opened up like this, even if it was just for the school project of two 9-year-olds.

"Thanks, love," I said, picking up the phone off the table and turning off the speaker, "The twins really appreciate it."

"Yeah, whatever," Katsuki grumbled, but I could hear the faint hint of affection in his voice, "Just don’t let it get to your head, dumbass."

I chuckled softly and he did the same. There was a small silence between us, where we're just able to hear each other's breathing.

"I miss you..." He whispered and a felt a shiver down my spine.

"I miss you two, Katsuki, I'll be back in a few hours, okay?" He grunted and the chair squeaked under his weight as he shifted around.

"I don't know if I can handle raccoon eyes and dunce face bothering me with homework they forgot to do during break," I smiled and held back a laugh, "However, ponytail should be handling them right now, so I'm not too worried-."

There was a knock on his of his door, and I heard him muttering a quiet 'fuck' as Eijiro's voice came through the line, slightly muffled.

"I spoke too soon, gotta go, love you," I didn't even get to respond back because he hung up. I was praying that he wouldn't kill anyone from the Bakusquad while I wasn't there.

I put my phone away, I saw the twins discussing about how to organize the answers.

"You're putting these on the board?" I asked, leaning closer to see what they were doing. There was a drawing of Katsuki with his winter suit on at the very bottom of the page, only his upper half drawn. It was easy to recognize him, especially if you looked at his face, distorted in anger, and there were a few shots of Katsuki on the pictures of me, so anyone would be able to put two and two together and figure out who he was.

Akira laid the cards on the paper and Ryo marked where the answers would be, the title of that section was half covered so I couldn't really see it.

"Yep, it'll go somewhere down here..." Akira mentioned to the bottom right corner for the board, "Is the title okay, nii-chan?"

He moved the papers that were in the way and I shifted closer to them, cranking my neck to the side to read it. 'A Hero's Best Friend', read the top of the paper.

Honestly, I understood why. The monsters didn't want to out our relationship to their class and possibly their whole school, so calling us best friends was cool with me, besides, I like to think we're still each other's best friend while being lovers.

"Want me to help?" They looked at me and nodded enthusiastically, uttering a 'please!' in unison, making me chuckle.

///////

Maybe an hour had passed while I helped the twins finish and fix their project, making sure it was neat and easy to read and follow through.

"Alright, monsters, remember to clean up or mom is gonna get mad," I stood up from the bean bag I had been sitting and headed toward the door.

"On it!"

I walked out the room and stretched my limbs a little bit. I had completely forgotten Aizawa-sensei was here so I wanted to check up on him, just to make sure my mom hadn't roped him into anything...

Where is he? Where is she?

"Mom?" I quietly called, but no response. That's when I heard muffled laughter and clattering of utensils coming from the kitchen. Imagine my surprise when I walked in and I saw Aizawa standing next to my mom in the kitchen. Wearing an apron. Pouring batter on a tray. Baking.

His sleeves were rolled up, his hair tied in a messy bun, with an expression that could only be described as someone who knows nothing about baking, learning how to bake.

I stood there for a moment, taking in the scene of Aizawa-sensei baking with my mom. It was... surreal, to say the least. My no-nonsense, perpetually sleep-deprived teacher, standing in our kitchen, carefully pouring batter into a tray with all the focus of someone on a mission. And my mom, happily chatting away as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"Mom?" I called again and she turned around to look at me, a wide smile on her face. The inviting smell of baking goodies filling my nose the longer I stood in the kitchen.

"Oh hey, honey! Shota-kun and I were just finishing up some treats. How was the project with the boys?" I tried not to feel strange at the idea of my mother being in first name basis with my teacher, blinking as I stared blankly at her, and focused on the question.

"It went good, they're finished and are cleaning up the mess they made," she chuckled and went back to cleaning the counter, clearly pleased. It did seem like they were almost done with the baking.

"Those two had been so eager to make their project about you, you know? They can't stop talking about you and Katsuki-kun," there was something about hearing my boyfriend's name that always made me smile, not matter the situation.

“Yeah, they were pretty excited to have me help them, and I think they really enjoyed putting it together," I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe.

Aizawa-sensei glanced over at me, a flicker of something almost resembling a smile on his face, “They seem like good kids,” he said simply, his tone as flat as ever, but there was an unmistakable warmth in his words.

“Yeah, they are,” I agreed, feeling a swell of pride in my chest at the thought of my younger brothers, "Though they can be a handful sometimes."

Mom chuckled and went over to the oven, opening it and pulling out the tray. I could see they had been baking brownies, "Well, judging with what I've been told, Shota-kun has his fair share of handfuls too," she said teasingly, nudging Aizawa with her elbow. Then, she turned to me briefly after setting the tray down, her expression softening, "The boys look up to you, (M/n), they said they were gonna follow your footsteps and become heroes."

Hearing those words made me freeze. The warmth of her voice felt like a comforting blanket around me, and my chest tightened, a mix of pride and emotion swelling up inside me.

The thought of Akira and Ryo looking up to me, wanting to follow in my footsteps and become heroes, hit me harder than I expected. For a moment, I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t just their big brother; I was their role model, someone they were striving to be like.

The realization was both humbling and overwhelming.

I could feel a lump forming in my throat, but I swallowed it down, not wanting to get too emotional in front of anyone.

A small, genuine smile tugged at my lips as finally able to find my voice, “They said that?” I asked softly, looking at  my mom, who gave a subtle nod, confirming it. My eyes flickered up to the ceiling, trying to hold in the tears I felt gathering in my eyes, “That’s… that’s really something,” I added, my voice a bit shaky with emotion, but I managed to keep it steady, “I’ll do my best to make sure I’m someone worth looking up to.”

My mom’s smile softened, and I heard her as she walked over to me, and soon feeling her gentle hand on my shoulder, making me look down at her.

“You already are, sweetheart,” she said, her voice full of warmth and confidence.

I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me, and I took a deep breath, letting the moment sink in. I was doing this not just for myself, but for them too, for Akira, for Ryo, and for everyone who believed in me. And I wasn’t going to let them down.

After that, she caressed my face and gently wiped the stray tear that had managed to escape and went back to Aizawa, who had witnessed the whole scene in silence with a subtle smile on his face.

I blinked a few times and wiped my eyes with the back of my hands, hearing my mom and Aizawa talking about the batter and how to prevent it from baking into the paper while in the over.

I still couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing, but at the same time, it felt oddly comforting. Aizawa-sensei, despite his gruff exterior, was clearly capable of moments like this, moments where he let his guard down just enough to bond with someone, even if it was over something as simple as baking.

“Don’t forget to take some of those back with you for Eri,” my mom said as she finished cutting up the brownies and putting a few of them on a plate, “I’m sure she’d love to try them.”

Aizawa nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards ever so slightly, “I’ll make sure she gets them.”

I watched them for a moment longer before pushing off the doorframe.

“I’ll go check on the twins,” I said, excusing myself.

As I walked back down the hall, I couldn’t help but chuckle softly to myself. Who would’ve thought? My mom and Aizawa-sensei, bonding over baking. The world was full of surprises, but this one? This one was definitely one of the better ones.

///////

Forty-five minutes later, Aizawa-sensei and I were making our way back to the car, tupperware filled with brownies and cookies for Eri and the class.

"See you later, nii-chan!" The twins exclaimed and I smiled and waved at them as I got in the car.

"Don't stresss mom too much, monsters!" They giggled but nodded and hugged mom tightly. My parents chuckled and waved back at me.

"Take care!" I nodded at them and closed the door, continuing to wave to them as the car slowly pulled away.

The first few minutes were spent in complete silence and I found myself staring out the window again, watching how the streets became busy with all the people passing by, and I fidgeted with my All Might notebook.

"Your mom's a good cook, I didn't expect to find myself baking brownies and cookies today but... It was nice," Aizawa's voice broke the silence and I glanced over at him, feeling a smile growing on my face, "I talked about Eri and she suggested I learn how to bake for her."

"Yeah, she has a thing for getting close to others," I spoke as I remembered my mom. She's always been like that, kind, friendly and gentle, incredibly out-going too, Akira is just like her, while Ryo and I are more like our dad, the shyness and anxiety is pretty obvious on the three of us, "She definitely wants to visit the dorm just so she could meet everyone in person, " I chuckled thinking of all the times mom had asked me about my classmates, I'm pretty sure she has their names and quirks memorized by now.

"Well, she's allowed to come over whenever she likes," I felt my chest warm at Aizawa's kind words, hearing him say that made me so happy for my mom.

///////

Back at the dorm, I was immediately tackled by Eri. She had only seen me in the morning before I left, so it made sense that we had missed me.

"Hey, Eri," I crouched to her height and hugged her for as long as she allowed me, "Here, we brought some treats for everyone," I handed her the tupperware with cookies and she looked at it bright eyes.

She smiled at me and rushed back to the couches, "Cookies!" She exclaimed and the class gathered around her as she opened the container. The smell of the cookies must've set them off because they were practically diving in to get some.

"Easy there, we have more," Aizawa spoke as he closed the door behind him, we took off our shoes and put on slippers before walking further inside the dorm. We placed the containers on the coffee table and opened them.

I managed to grab a piece of brownie before the piranhas dove in the treats.

Shoji, ever so thoughtful, brought paper plates for everyone, and I grabbed one to take some to Katsuki before they were completely gone. I grabbed brownies and cookies before heading up the stairs.

I knocked on the door to let him know I was coming in before opening it. He looked up from his position on the bed, he was reading manga, re-reading it to be exact. I smiled and closed the door behind as I watched a grin slowly make it's way on his face.

"What's that?" He moved his head toward the plate on my hand and I sat next to him when he scooted over. He looked at the treats on display and reached to grab a brownie, taking a bit, "Damn, your mom is so good at baking," he spoke with his mouth full, and I had to place my hand under his chin so he wouldn't get crumps on his bed, which I knew he would complain about.

"She made them with Aizawa-sensei, which was... Weird," Katsuki stopped mid-bite and snorted, how he didn't choke on his food I don't know.

"Sensei? He baked these? Nuh uh, I don't believe it," he chuckled and continued eating, I could tell he did believe me but was just laughing at the odds of our stoic teacher baking.

[hotxcheeto]

Hi!

I was wondering if you could write something with Ellie x fem reader where reader is like an actress/film director who's passionate about just filmmaking and acting in general, maybe her and Ellie met because they're jobs crossed over or maybe Ellie was a fan of reader or something.

━ 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, fluff, mention of crappy dating??,

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope/a lil

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - so sorry this took months, I'm so behind but I was going through some shit lmao, thank you for the rq!! <3 ALSO making these banners here and there cause I'm running out of good gifs and got a lot of good screen shots and photos.. :)

REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED AND NOTICED!

"Don't you understand, she was my daughter too.."

You muttered your lines to yourself as the artist did your makeup, brushing over your eyes as she captured an old timey look. Using so many reference photos that the entire table was filled when you walked in, giving you both something to talk about at first.

That was until a comfortable silence filled over, Mia having become a close friend of yours on set. You felt excited every morning to come and get done up for whatever scene you had as the duchess you played. Knowing she'd capture every dated detail on your skin.

But today your mind was filled with other thoughts than just the make-up. Stressed to all hell for the next few days, knowing you and the director needed to perfect both your acting and the shots that would make your performance come together.

And that was just it, you needed to be perfect.

"Nervous?" Mia asked with a smile, taking a hint from your shaky, silent nature, backing up to grab a different brush.

"Extremely." You responded with a light laugh, looking at yourself in the mirror. "You got this, you're being nominated for, not one, but multiple of the most prestigious awards in media. If anyone can pull off such an important scene, it's you. Especially with how pretty I'm making you everyday."

You nodded with a small smile, but still felt like you could pass out at any moment in time. Clutching onto the papers like they'd disappear while letting out a shaky sigh.

"I know, but-" "But you still act like you've never been in front of the camera every time they're ready for a big shellshock to be filmed. Mind you, the scenes start filming tomorrow, not today."

You winced at the very clear truth to her words.

"Too loud Mia." She laughed, continuing on with your makeup, ignoring the door opening to reveal your favorite stage manager, smiling too brightly for the fact that it was six in the morning.

"The painter is ready when you are, ready to be photographed Y/n?" You sighed in response, looking at the clock as Mia applied an old looking lip color to your mouth. "I'm ready to look like a renaissance portrait, that's for sure."

"She said she might need you for the sketch too, just to make sure she's got the best outline of you that matches, but other than that, you should be done quick and have some free time before shooting starts."

The stage manager spoke, looking down at the tablet in her hand while speaking. Mia pulling away to look at your face, turning your head lightly with her fingers.

"What's her name?" "Don't remember, all I know is that she's good and the directors favorite prop guy really likes her." Mia took the cover off your costume, allowing you to stand up in your long, olden style dress.

"Ready to be renaissanced?" You nodded, leaving the makeup trailer and telling Mia you'd see her later. Walking off towards one of the nearby buildings labeled for set creation and prop design.

The place was decked out too, even more so since the last time you'd come inside. Pieces from every time period hanging about complimented by posters on every wall. Familiar drawings and items from some scenes of your favorite shows displayed out to remind everyone that these people had made them.

They liked showing off their stuff where they could, most of the workspaces and offices a bit more boring depending on who you were talking to. But other than that, the entire building was the best on set.

"Miss Y/l/n?" An assistance appeared behind you, wearing pajama-like clothing making you wish you were them just because of how early it was. "That's me." "Right in here." They led you to an office room, though there was only a desk covered in papers and the walls lined with movie and TV art and décor.

The rest of the room had easels and different sized canvases against the walls and laid on the ground, tarps on the floor with paint covering every corner. Jars of different colors and paint brushes laid about on different carts and shelves.

"She had to leave but she should be back in a moment. She said though, you can sit there while you wait."

The person pointed at a stood that was set up across from an empty easel, a very dim light pointed at the stool.

"Alright, thank you." They nodded and left, closing the door behind them leaving you alone in the silence to admire the painters area.

Spaceships hung from the ceilings in one of the corners, little figurines and action figures on the walls and done up to look cool instead of just sitting there. But some were still in boxes making you wonder if she collected them or would eventually sell them. Judging by the room though, collector for sure.

You sat down with a racing mind, messing with your fingers while you waited. You liked the warmth the office brought, it was like a child's daydream and it made you smile.

This person definitely had an eye for the arts.

"Shit, I'm so sorry." A girl then stumbled in through the door, her black tank top covered in colors that were probably not there when she bought it, as well as her blue jeans and shoes.

Her grown out mullet pushed back from her face that only showed stress. Arms lined with paint and markings, some of it even looked like dry clay making you wonder what kind of things she'd made besides paintings.

"Fuck, I shouldn't cuss. Sorry." You laughed, finally catching her attention but not her eyes.

"I don't mind, everything alright?" "You know, it's early, people are tired, you might accidentally drop something. But a perfectly good fucking vase someone spent hours making should not be one of them."

You clenched your teeth, feeling familiar with her frustration while watching her grab a few things from her desk drawers.

"Yeah, I agree. But I've also broken bones this early in the morning, so, I should not be talking." The girl laughed, rummaging for something and then grabbing an expensive looking camera and opening the bottom of it.

"How long you been doing this?" "Uh, couple years now. Fresh out of college." She stood up turning around but not looking up. "Something that I liked besides playing video games." You giggled. "Same. But with acting and you know, the other stuff."

Finally she looked up, meeting your eyes and then seeing your smile. The morning sunrise reflecting off your irises and skin, making you glow more than you already were before the window had assisted you.

She found herself at a loss for words as you continued to talk.

"I'm Y/n, by the way, but I mean by slight chance you don't already know that. I do hate saying that though, makes me seem like I've got a big head."

The girl didn't respond for a moment, suddenly nodding and humming.

"Yeah, no, I know you. Dina- my friend- loves you. Big 'Walking Dead' fan." Ellie felt stupid in the moment, thinking you probably thought she was an idiot especially when you chuckled, covering your mouth lightly with your hand.

"Aw, that's sweet. Tell her I love her too." You winked, Ellie still struggling to speak. "Yeah, for sure. I'm Ellie by the way! Probably should've said that when I walked in."

Ellie whispered a few curses under her breath while switching the settings on the light, trying to avoid your stare that was still on her.

"Heard you were one of the best at creating stuff like this." "Really?" She choked, making you laugh with a shake of your head. "Yep. Inclined to agree, you seem cool and cool people are talented. Even if they don't know it."

"Thanks, just doing my job."

Face palm, Ellie, c'mon get it together.

"So, anything you need me to do?" Ellie stood back, hanging the camera strap around her neck while stepping in front of you.

"Just, turn this way." Her hands brushed your shoulders while you positioned yourself, noticing how close she was when she knelt down. Adjusting your limbs to look as perfect as possible.

"Chin up, like this." Her finger went under your chin making butterflies erupt in your stomach. You weren't going to lie to yourself, she was attractive, very attractive. Somewhere inside your head hoping to all that would listen that this wouldn't be your last time seeing her.

"Just like that." She muttered, making the nervousness you felt in the tense room even worse than it already was. "Better?" "Yeah, perfect."

Ellie then adjusted your outfit and look, backing up to make sure it was perfect.

To her, with the lighting, you already looked like a portrait.

"How do I look?" You questioned, eye flickering up to meet her green ones. "Good.. good, yeah." "I mean in terms of beauty on this Monday morning, c'mon. Am I just, 'good'?" Ellie froze up, grabbing her camera to distract herself.

"I guess you're pretty."

"Wow, I'm so getting your ass fired."

You both laughed, Ellie getting down to the level she wanted for the picture while aiming the camera at you.

"Just stay still." You heard the camera click a few times, wondering to yourself if she ever got sick of looking at some ones face for hours on end. She then stood up, looking down at the photos.

"Perfect, stay like that though, just wanna make sure I get the-"

"Outline?" "Yeah."

"Ever get sick of staring at the same picture?"

"Not if it's you."

It just slipped out, Ellie panicking as soon as it happened. Her face burning red while she grabbed the canvas she had set aside for your portrait. Swallowing hard when you breathed a laugh.

"I knew you thought I was more than just 'good'. Was that an attempt at a flirt? Because if so, it definitely landed."

"Good to know I've still got it." She picked up her pencil, smirking at you when you giggled, trying your best to keep your pose.

"What's it like being you?" Ellie then asked, beginning to draw the shape of your head. "Eh, not all it's chalked up to be. Scary sometimes. Awesome most times. Lonely.."

"All the time?" You shook your head slightly making your earrings move. "No. Dating fucking sucks though."

Ellie snorted, quickly following up with a quiet 'sorry' making you grin.

"Especially when you like girls, it's an even smaller pool of fish, maybe like a puddle." "Puddle o' fish?" "My favorite dating app."

You could hear the pencil against the white surface, going both quickly and precisely, her eyes moving to you and back to the work in progress.

You shifted just barely, eyes scanning over her desk once again, admiring her green rolling chair. It looked kind of like yours at home, the color just different, but the design all the same.

"I get it though, sometimes I even wonder if the light is too bright." You laughed to yourself, Ellie even chuckling at your words.

"I just don't like paparazzi because I know I look like shit on camera." Ellie then said, making you snort and barely cover your mouth before returning to your pose.

"I beg to differ." "Trust me, you wouldn't differ if you seen some of the photos my friends have." You giggled again, hearing her pencil moving slower now against the the sketch.

"They're idiots though." "Just like mine, my dorks are a hivemind of morons." Ellie nodded in agreeance, smiling. "What's it like being you?" You questioned, Ellie erasing something from the sketch.

"Eh, probably a slower life compared to yours. I get a lot of freedom. Get to do shit on my own time. I like making stuff, art." Looking around the room you realized a lot of the décor was her own, by her hand.

"I wish I could do that." "You do, in a different way." "How poetic, Ellie."

She wished she could hear her name pass your lips again and again. Something about the way you said it, like a sickeningly sweet hum.

Your eyes danced to the clock, noticing the time was becoming less and less, the sinking feeling of your departure creeping up your back.

"You gotta go?" Ellie asked, noticing your stare on the two hands pointing at their respective digits. "Not right this minute, but soon." "Might need you again."

No she wouldn't, not actually. But seeing you again was definitely on her bucket list.

"If I'm not on set, I'm available. Usually. For you though, I'll make time." You joked, copying her flirtatious nature from before. "Fuck me." She whispered with reddened cheeks, unheard by you, or at least she hoped.

"Yeah, I'll make sure to hunt you down." "Is that a promise?" Ellie felt like a school girl talking to her first crush, hoping the canvas hid her face well enough. "You bet it is."

You glanced at the time again, more minutes having passed.

"Times up Michelangelo. The camera needs me." Ellie felt a pang of disappointment, finishing up the near perfect outline of your upper half. "Alright, alright. I'm done with you, for now."

"Make me look pretty, 'kay?" "Can't fix what's not broken."

You picked up the bottom of your dress with a grin, standing up from the stool. Dusting off the long skirt as if anything had gotten on it.

"See you later?" You practically asked, walking towards the door with little happiness. "Door's always open."

"I'll take that as a yes, I'll be back to check on the painting."

"I'm counting on it." "Better be."

A/n: Argh ( in pirate )

[pisupsala]

Of All The Stars in The Sky | 14 | Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Summary | War looks different from high above in the sky. But when Bradley finds himself on the ground, far behind enemy lines, it becomes a race against the clock to get out. And try not to look back at what he’s leaving behind.

Pairing | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc (no use of y/n)

Warnings |Mature content | 18+ only[WWII AU] swearing, war, violence, death, explicit smut

Words | 7.9k

Index | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

Library

Chapter 14: Shadow Waltz 

Bradley sinks into his seat before his legs might give out from under him. What did he just see? 

His breath comes out in short bursts like he can’t fully draw a breath before it forces its way back up from his lungs. 

It’s like his throat is being constricted. Why didn’t he call out? He could have jumped. Pulled the emergency brake and jumped out. Ran to you. Warned you.

The thoughts are coming and going in quick succession, nothing fully taking hold. Burying his head in his hands, Bradley tries to calm himself. Eyes screwed shut, he replays that moment over and over. The figure closing in on you. You’re oblivious. Why didn’t you turn around? Didn’t you hear the footsteps?

Why didn’t he call out?

He could have done something. Helped you. Saved you. The doomed scene replays in cutting sharpness every time he closes his eyes, leaving his insides quaking. Every heartbeat is like a sledgehammer coming down. 

Bradley doesn’t know how long he sits there, hunched over on the hard wooden seat, backpack weighing him down. Everything is distant like he’s not really there.

He is stuck in the moment you disappeared.

“Don’t draw any attention to yourself once you get on the train,” Your voice is so close and clear that Bradley is suddenly back in that small room, in bed with you. A moment in time when this was all just a plan. A rough sketch. Bradley’s reality was entirely between those four walls. You’re laying on top of him, naked, soft breast pressed against his chest. Even now, it feels more real than the jerky cadence of the train. Fingers gently caressing the quickly forming scars on his face, your tone is distressingly businesslike. “It’s your one chance, Bradley.”

“I’m sure I can manage,” He replies easily, leaning into your touch, lips brushing against your fingertips. Your hands are warm.

But you never said it would be at the cost of you. The thought shoots through him like lightning, distorting the peaceful scene and drowning it in panic. Your giggle sounds strange in his memory, the once beautiful sound.

Time passes strangely; Bradley has no sense of how many stops the train has made, how many people flittered past him. Everything is a blur. The city is far behind him now, replacing the colorful buildings with green hills and lush forests. 

The train should take several hours before it reaches its destination. You told him so. Finally, Bradley’s breath evens out. It’s not the first time he’s seen someone seconds before their demise. Hell, he’s been the cause of those doomed final seconds plenty of time. He’s seen his brothers-in-arms go down in a ball of fire. 

He remembers all of them.

But it was never supposed to be you. No matter how blasé you were when you told him you could have died many times over already. How bravely you faced danger. Because Bradley remembers how softly your voice was when you admitted you didn’t want to die. 

No matter how much he tries to calm himself, focus on his breathing, and steer his mind to here and now, the strange tension won’t leave Bradley. It’s like a cold hand wrapped around his neck, setting him on edge. He is far from safety and should focus on the task at hand. Your sacrifice—the icy fingers tighten, constricting Bradley’s breath for a second as the realization that you might be dead sets in a little bit deeper—he cannot let your sacrifice be in vain. 

He is alive because of you.

He needs to go to the coordinates that you got for him. Find his contact. Get instructions. And get out.

It’s deep in the afternoon when the train stops in a nondescript town near the southern border. Most people have gotten off in the last large city about an hour ago—when Bradley looks up, only two other people are left in the wagon.

This is the place.

Getting up, his muscles and tendons creaking in protest, Bradley disembarks. He’s been sitting the whole journey but feels like his body has been through a marathon. Tiredness is seeping into his bones, overflowing from his brain. 

He looks around. The station is no more than a concrete slab and a small abandoned building in the middle of the forest. A single dirt road leads up the forest—the only sign of life is a sliver of smoke billowing up through the trees. There must be a house there.

“The station is here.” Your voice is eerily close again. Leaning over the table, one knee on the chair, your finger prods the map. Bradley leans closer. The map is slightly too large for the small table, with one side hanging off the edge. His compass, which he didn’t even realize you had, is in your other hand. 

“From there, you need to head…” You narrow your eyes as you think. The little crease between your eyebrows suddenly becomes evident again. “South-west.” You conclude.

“That will take me in the opposite direction of the path,” Bradley observes, his fingers brushing against yours as he traces a route over the green fields of the map. Nothing indicates there is anything for miles in that direction.

“Look for a game trail,” You look up, your face so close to his. Even now, Bradley can smell your soap. “A small path in the high grass, an opening in the underbrush.”

Your fingers follow his toward the small ‘x’ you’ve drawn on the map, the exact spot of the coordinates. On the map, it’s in an indistinct area in the middle of the forest. There are no marked paths or landmarks around. It has to be. It’s a delicate balance, as it needs to be a spot where you wouldn’t wander past wholly by chance but is also not terribly suspicious to be waiting there. 

Bradley will know when he sees it.

As suddenly as you appeared before his mind’s eye, you are gone again. Not even the smell of your soap lingers in the spring air. Opposite the dirt road, a trail of flattened grass disappears into the forest. Just like you said there would be. 

As he starts walking, he tries to remember how you looked as you did the mental math, trying to figure out how long he would be walking, figuring out which train to get. Your lips were pursed, still hunched over, fingers tapping against the map quickly.

“It should take me about 90 minutes,” Bradley offers. Your eyes flash, almost defiantly, as if you’re determined to prove him wrong. Mouth open, like you’re about to say something, he can practically see you do the math in your head.

“Yeah, 90 minutes sounds correct.” You finally admit, although not without difficulty, pulling away from him. It makes him laugh—you’re so determined to figure it out and do everything right. To eliminate every variable, be ahead of everyone and everything. But distance and speed calculations are daily chores for Bradley. There’s a surprising amount of math involved in flying—had he known that before he enlisted, he might have paid closer attention in school.

The track doesn’t stop when he reaches the forest. There are no markers, but the path between the blueberry bushes and ferns is clear. Now that he is sure no one is around him, he digs his compass out of his pocket. Heading south-west. Ninety minutes. 

Bradley glances around. It’s quiet—no one seems to be around. Although he’s only a few meters into the forest, it’s secluded.  Quickly slipping the backpack off his back, Bradley digs through the neatly packed contents. You’ve taken so much care getting him everything he’ll need; you had it all thought out. For a moment, Bradley’s movements slow. No. He needs to be on time. From the bottom of the backpack, he pulls his carefully wrapped gun. It feels strange in his hand, even though it’s his—he hasn’t seen it since you took it from him months ago. Unwrapping it, Bradley inspects the piece. It’s clean, and it’s still loaded. 

He desperately hopes he won’t have to use it. He has no spare ammo—it’s a tool of last resort. Choosing not to dwell on it, he double-checks the safety before tucking it into the waistband of his pants on his back. 

There is still no sound but for the forest. It doesn’t bring him any piece of mind.

Looking back, Bradley can barely remember the hike. Let alone the train ride. It already feels like everything happened in the past—a different lifetime. He’s lived so many now. The small room under the roof in Prague is just as far away as his barracks room in England. But the anxiety stays—it wanes in moments, only to come back full force suddenly as his thoughts inevitably turn back to you. You’re so intricately woven into every aspect of his life in the past months; almost nothing doesn’t remind Bradley of you.

The sun is streaming through the pine trees. In the forest, the air is cool despite that. Bradley needs to keep pace. Glancing at this watch, he knows he should soon be coming up to the rendezvous point—just ten more minutes.

His stomach growls. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast, too distraught to eat anything on the train. Everything is still just passing by him. Bradley isn’t hungry. When he was in boot camp, fresh out of high school, he was never hungry either—so much was weighing him down. His mother’s death, Mav, and the horrid reality of boot camp. But Bradley also knows it’s not about being hungry; it’s about survival.

A clearing appears—although clearing might be too much credit for the sudden widening of the path. It’s just a few meters across where the ground has been walked bare to the mud. Overgrown with moss, a large log peeks out on the edge of the clearing.

This should be it—nothing strange about a weary traveler sitting on a log to rest. 

Bradley sits down heavily. The hike wasn’t strenuous, and the weather is pleasant, but the ever-present tension and the feeling of being caught between fight and flight are steadily sapping his energy. Unwrapping some of his provisions, he chews mindlessly. The bread, the cheese—everything tastes like nothing to Bradley right now. The water in his canteen isn’t in any way refreshing; it instead feels like it’s a stone on his stomach, weighing him down further.

Sitting there, the sounds of the forest suddenly intensify. Bradley can hear how the wind picks up through the crowns of the trees. Leaves rustle, branches creak—something small is scurrying through the underbrush. A mouse or a squirrel, perhaps. Bradley focuses back on chewing. The food still tastes like nothing.

From here on out, he has no idea how long or far he has to go. He has provisions to last him several days, hoping it will be enough. Sitting on a large log in a quiet forest on a sunny afternoon is strange—Bradley feels like he should be running, fighting, doing something. Anything. Not just sitting here, waiting. 

But right now, he can’t go back. Neither can he go forward. Bradley is precisely where he needs to be right now, and it’s out of his hands. Truly, everything had been out of his hands the moment that night fighter tore his fuselage to shreds with a well-aimed salvo of bullets. 

It was easier to just go along with it when you were by his side. It distracted from his doomed fate well enough and for long enough. But now, Bradley feels more powerless, more aimless than before. Despite all the precautions, it might not have been enough for you. To save you.

For all you did to save him.

Deep inside, the cold rationale of years of training, years of seeing comrades die, and the many decisions Bradley has had to take are clear. Going back for you would mean you both die. It would render everything you’ve done for him useless. You fulfilled your mission. Now, he has to fulfill his.

He doesn’t want to think about that now.

Bradley swallows heavily, trying to get the acrid taste out of his mouth. You were not just part of a mission—he is pretty sure it was not just a mission for you anymore. It wasn’t for him.

A pack of cigarettes is tucked into one of the backpack's side pockets. Just when he reaches for it, tension creeps up his spine. Bradley is not alone anymore.

The man appears suddenly like he just materialized in the clearing. Not a twig that snapped under his boot, not a rustle of leaves as he moved. His face is tan; the skin is weathered from this sun, aging him. He looks at Bradley top to bottom—the man is dressed like a tramp in old and faded clothes, patched up with mismatched fabrics, holding himself awkwardly, almost as if he's injured, but his eyes are sharp. Discerning.

When Bradley observes him a bit closer, he notices the man's boots are outfitted with new soles despite his overall shabby appearance. 

Grinning, he tips his hat.

“Flash.” His voice sounds raw, like he hasn't spoken out loud in years.

“Thunder.” Bradley replies automatically. The man grins a little bit wider but doesn't say anything else. Bradley waits for him to say something, to introduce himself, or to start a conversation. However, the man seems comfortable in his silence, simply grinning at him in a friendly manner, beckoning Bradley as he starts walking off the path into the thick of the forest.

He passed the challenge; this man is the contact, of that, Bradley is as sure as he can be under the circumstances. And while it's not like he expected this to be a hike between friends, the clearly self-imposed muteness of the man is unsettling.

Quickly repacking his rucksack, Bradley leaps up, following the man. 

They walk, with only a drink break, until dusk. The hilly terrain is turning more rugged, with boulders sticking up from the forest floor higher and higher. When the man finally stops and motions for Bradley to sit down with him, pulling out a tin of beans from his pack, Bradley cannot help but ask.

“Where are we going?” 

The man, focusing on prying off the lid of the can, ignores him, scarcely looking up to acknowledge Bradley even said anything. Hesitantly, Bradley starts unpacking some of his own food—bread doesn't sound so bad now. The long hike hasn't done much to make him any hungrier. But he needs to eat. And bread is better than the cold beans the guide seems to be spooning down without blinking, anyway.

After what seems to be a much too short time, they are up on their feet again, walking through the dark forest. He sets a relentless pace for all the posturing the guide does to appear awkward or injured, he sets a relentless pace.

Bradley can't help but try again.

“How long do we have to travel?”

No reply.

“Are we going to walk all night?” He grumbles under his breath, annoyed now. The guide is the first person he has spoken to, besides you, in months. The only other people he ever saw were your fellow resistance fighters—the officer from the signal corps and his angry sidekick. The disconnect from everyone and everything around him is a constant irritation, like a weeping wound.

“Patrouille.” 

The sudden, raspy reply has Bradley snapping his head up.

Pointing west, where the sun is rapidly setting, he continues: “Kaserne.”

The guide simply turns around and resumes his path as if that explains everything. German wasn't exactly on Bradley's curriculum, and languages weren't his strong suit. You would know. And if you didn't know, you would probably figure it out, if only to to outsmart him.

You would never fully admit it, but the reason you really didn't like doing crossword puzzles with him is not because you couldn't take on the challenge—it's because he would always guess the answer faster than you. And as it turns out, you are an adorably poor loser regarding intellectual pursuits.

What Bradley would give to see you frown at him again, just knowing you were safe.

So they travel at night. It’s cold and dark—the ground uneven and slippery, as you warned him. When dawn breaks, they hide in the undergrowth or caverns scattered through the mountainside. Bradley feels like he hasn’t slept in days, but neither has he been fully awake. He is sure he can hear your voice somewhere between dreams and waking. It’s always so close like you’re next to him on the cold ground—your breath ghosting over his skin as you whisper to him. He can hear but can’t see you; he’s scared to look around, only to find nothing. 

The small square of cloth stays securely tucked in the breast pocket of his coat. Close to his heart. Bradley’s hands are so dirty he’s scared to even look at it. Sometimes, he brushes his hand over the pocket, imagining he can feel the folded edges through the thick fabric. Imagining you are still with him, however intangible.

He scratches off the wax from a match with shaking fingers before lighting it. The faint light from the burning tip is the only clear shape he can see. Everything else is formless, different shades of dark. In the absence of snow, like when you led him down the mountain, there is nothing to reflect the starlight. It makes the forest feel emptier and darker—the sound echoes louder, and strange noises travel.

His mind is leading him in circles, down a well-worn path.

By now, Bradley has replayed those last few seconds of you on that platform so many times in his head, he’s not even sure anymore what he saw. Were you grabbed? Did they run past you? Did you turn in time?

He’s not sure if his brain is playing tricks on him through the sleep deprivation, or his heart is trying to protect him in the most horribly cruel way—but the memory that was once so clear, seared into his mind’s eye, is playing out just a little bit differently every time he thinks about it. You turned. You moved out of the way. Dashing past the figure, you hid in the winding medieval streets you know so well. You would be alright. 

You have to be.

The cold rational pierces his heart, but Bradley knows he has to accept it. He made the right choice. He shouldn’t have turned back—you wouldn’t want him to. Every time he thinks about it, the knife twists a little bit more, not allowing the wound to heal. Somewhere, he doesn’t want it to. He deserves to suffer. If - if something happened to you, it’s because of him. The pain should be all his. 

As the days and nights melt into each other on the way to the airfield, Bradley is less and less sure of what he actually saw. Just existing is sapping him of every bit of energy now. The food you have packed for him is running low, and Bradley would kill for a hot coffee by now.

The guide doesn’t answer when Bradley asks how much longer. Whether he doesn’t understand or chooses not to understand is moot. It’s not like Bradley has the energy to argue with him. He just wants to get out of here.

Three nights in, Bradley feels like he's at his limit. The dark, the silence, and the uncertainty grate him to the bone. But he has no choice but to carry on. Gritting his teeth, he keeps walking. His feet hurt. His head hurts. His heart hurts.

The torch's strange moving light, deep at night in the cold mountain air, gives Bradley more time to think than he is comfortable with. There is nothing to distract him from himself. People pay good money for a hiking holiday in Europe, but Bradley can't help but be bored. It's like every emotion is slowly getting filed down to a stump. 

It didn't take him all that long to figure that "patrouille" was German for patrol—freely inferring that "kaserne" is a base or stronghold of some sort, which is the reason they travel at night. Barely enough of a challenge to keep his mind occupied.

When you are continuously exposed to danger, when your fight or flight instincts are constantly kicked into high gear, everything becomes dull. The tension and anxiety are always there; they are just so constant they are now background noise.

Sometimes, when Bradley wakes up and he sees the open sky above him, his heart clenches. Like he expected to wake up somewhere else. Like he wanted to wake up in that small room again. At the same time, it fills him with dread. Making his heart race in panic. The idea of being locked up in a small room again terrifies him.

Another long day and an even longer night go by.

It’s late, pitch black all around, when Bradley feels tarmac under his boots for the first time in months. It’s a strange feeling. He has no idea where he is or what day it even is, but the tarmac and the vague smell of jet fuel lingering in the air feel familiar. 

As they emerge from the forest, Bradley looks around in awe. This is an airfield. In the middle of the mountains, shabby and clearly long abandoned. But an airfield. 

This must be it.

At the far end of the runway, he can make out the familiar, terrifying shape of a German warplane. 

A man disembarks from the cockpit of the plane, waving them down.

Bradley walks around the plane, inspecting it with fingers trailing over the body. He's been up close and personal with many makes of enemy planes, but never like this. It's fascinating in the most morbid way.

The men are talking to each other in low voices. Circling the plane, Bradley sees it's a one-seater.

“Am I flying?” He asks, interrupting the tête-à-tête between the two other men. Finally, he receives a full verbal reply—although it comes from the other man, a rather young-looking and even younger-sounding man, and not the guide.

“With me, yes.” As he steps closer to Bradley, he can now see he is dressed like a pilot. A German pilot, specifically, the iron cross displayed prominently on the collar peeping out from this thick lambskin jacket. His accent, however, is very precisely British—too precisely, it’s almost caricature-like.

Bradley doesn't get time to dwell on it, or ask any follow-up questions, as he is quite unceremoniously and forcefully helped into the hold where bombs are normally stored. The pilot hands him another jacket and together with the guide, they slide an oxygen bottle into the hold with Bradley.

“It gets quite cold, I'm afraid.” Everything the pilot says sounds strangely rehearsed, like he never held a conversation in English before. “Put on the mask when we reach altitude.” He adds.

Bradley just nods. The guide is grinning at him again, simply tipping his hat in greeting. 

“Thank you.” He replies, nodding back at the guide just before the hold closes.

It's safer for everyone if no one knows everything. Not even names. That also means you will never know who you owe your life to.

Oxygen mask clutched in his hand, Bradley closes his eyes. The sound of the engines, the smell—it’s like coming home. Not the home where he wants to be, but the one he knows best. Despite his nerves—this is the most dangerous part of the journey, relinquishing the last bit of control that he had—he starts dozing off.

Bradley is exhausted, physically and mentally. It’s bitterly cold.

He can feel your weight draped over him as he slips out of consciousness. He can smell your soap. Bradley’s fingers brush over his breast pocket. 

“Bradley, my love,” Your whisper floats through the air. The slightly lilting syllables of his name—only you say his name like that—still send shivers down his spine. It feels so familiar. 

The engine's drone fades into the background, warping into a soft hum. 

It’s not cold anymore. Bradley can feel the sun on his face, and he knows, without opening his eyes, that he is home. It’s high summer, and he’s sprawled out on the beach. And you are here with him. His heart soars at the realization—but his eyes are so heavy.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Your sweet voice sounds distant and incredibly close at the same time. Bradley blinks heavily against the burning sun. You are leaning over him, your hair blowing around your face. The sky behind you is cloudless, such a heavenly blue. 

Bradley’s limbs are heavy; he feels like he can’t move. He can barely keep his eyes open, but he wants nothing more than to see you. He can see you again. He still wants to tell you so much—the words stick in his throat, tongue paralyzed. You’re smiling down at him fondly. The summer sun is bathing you in a warm light, casting an ethereal glow around your body. 

“Shhh,” Your fingers trace over his lips. “You need to breathe.” 

Bradley blinks slowly. He is breathing. Like you can hear his confusion, you giggle—the teasing sound wrapping around him in impossible patterns, like it’s carried on a gust of wind. 

“You need to breathe,” You reiterate, grin still on your face, hands cupping his face. Brushing your nose against his, Bradley allows his eyes to close again. He’s fighting to stay awake. He wants to stay here with you. 

“The air is getting thin, my love,” Your voice sounds strangely distorted, overlapping like an echo without a source. His thoughts are sluggish, struggling to comprehend what you could be talking about. 

“You need to breathe.”

Your voice sounds more urgent now. Bradley peels his eyes open; you’re still smiling down at him, your face not betraying any of the urgency in your voice. Reaching out, his fingers trace over your bare shoulders—your skin is so warm from the sun. The silty sea air is crisp, brushing through your hair. Bradley shakes his head, still lacking the strength to say anything. He shouldn’t have to; all you need to do is lean closer and kiss him.

As if you can hear his thoughts, you move toward him again. Your lips are brushing against his tantalizingly. Why do you insist on teasing him so? Don’t you know how worried he has been? How much he has missed you?

He reaches out for you, limbs heavier than lead, intent on closing the space between you. Bradley is not in the mood for your games and teasing—not right now. He needs assurance you are okay. You are laughing, so light and carefree, but he wants to feel you. His fingers tangle through your hair, pulling your face to his.

“Put on the goddamn mask.” 

The sudden loudness of your voice, callous and commanding, like it’s been amplified to an almost deafening volume, forces Bradley’s eyes wide open. His heart is racing. It makes no sense; you’re still smiling above him. The blue sky is flickering with darkness, like someone is playing with the lights. 

Suddenly, Bradley’s neurons start firing again, and he forces the mask clutched in his hand over his face. As the oxygen fills his lungs, it’s like he’s waking up: the strength returns to his body, and his vision sharpens.

Unfortunately, all he sees is the darkness of the hold. 

It’s bitterly cold again. 

***

“Let me go!” You jerk yourself back so violently, desperate to free yourself from the iron grip in your arm, you nearly send yourself keeling backward, pulling your assailant with you. Stumbling, he pulls you back harshly, using his much more extensive and heavier form against you.

“Don’t make a scene!” He barks at you.

You never liked Jan. But now you hate him.

“Make a scene?” You hiss venomously, digging in your heels. “You’re dragging me through the train station like livestock.” 

You know people are watching, although they hurry past you without a word. People don’t like getting involved—no one wants trouble. You’re dressed for a day out in the country; Jan is wearing an old, ill-fitting suit. You make an odd pair if you were just walking down the street, but arguing like this, you’re practically a sideshow.

A man in a dark coat passes, staring at you both a little too long, disapprovingly. The moment Jan’s grip loosens, you yank your arm away from him, clearly awkward under the man's stare.

“Stop being so goddamn difficult,” He bites at you. “And start walking.”

You want to tell him to go fuck himself, turn on your heel and leave. But there’s a reason he made it out here. After the decimation of the resistance network, the survivors split off—some staying in the city if it was safe enough, like you. Others reformed as partisan fighting groups because their identities were leaked to the authorities, and they couldn’t reintegrate into society like Emil, or simply because they saw that as the way forward, like Jan.

As much as you hate to admit it, as much as you despise thinking about it now, Jan’s sudden appearance means something is happening. It’s probably urgent, but it’s undoubtedly important.

For five seconds, for five fucking seconds, you want to not think about the war. Whatever message Jan has for you should wait. You want to crawl into bed and cry, mourn having to say goodbye to Bradley.

Because you will never see him again.

You can wish, you can dream—but realistically? If you both make it out alive, god knows how long the war will be. He will have forgotten about you by then. 

You always knew this; you felt it in your bones, especially in the last few days. You set yourself on fire to silence that nagging voice in your head, so determined to experience everything about Bradley that you could, to the point you allowed yourself to believe him. Truly believe him, even just for a few days. Because no matter how much you want to soothe your hurting heart with his sweet promise, the illusion that he will come back, you need to face reality. The world didn’t stop. People are still disappearing, still dying. Every day, you still wake up in a country under brutal occupation. And Bradley is gone.

But you’re not even getting a chance to feel sorry for yourself, you think angrily. Crawl into bed and cry, drink too much with Eva, and probably cry some more—normal things.

Except you haven’t had a normal day in years.

Blinking rapidly to stop the tears, hands jammed deep into your pockets; you follow Jan like a child being led to detention. He walks several meters in front of you, stride confident, weaving past people—you follow, trailing, practically dragging your feet. To the outside observer, you are two strangers just going in the same direction. The streets around the station are busy; trams are thundering, cars are honking, and people are pushing past.

Shoulders pulled up; you stare at the tips of your boots as you walk. You can feel the corners of your mouth pulling down. At this point, you can’t even pretend to look neutral. You notice Jan turning into a side street from the corner of your eye. The narrow alleyway leads into a backstreet, connecting the city center to quiet residential areas. Sighing, you follow. 

However, he takes another turn, legging it to the park behind the national museum rather than veering further up the hill, away from the crowds. Jan doesn’t look back at you once, assuming you’re following.

Your curiosity won’t allow you to turn away and go home. So, with a face like thunder, you shuffle after him. It’s a beautiful day. You hate it.

It’s good for Bradley, though. It shouldn’t be cold tonight. And at least it won’t be raining as he hikes to the rendezvous point. You hope the weather stays mild; you hope he stays safe.

Your heart sinks further as you realize you’ll probably never find out. Bradley filled your head and heart with so many dreams; perhaps the kindest thing you can do now is dream for him. He’ll make it out. He’ll be safe. He’ll return to Virginia Beach and live out his days in peace.

Maybe one day you can find peace in that.

The gravel of the park path creaks under your boots. You wonder how much further Jan will walk to ensure you’re not being followed—it’s making you impatient, but you know better than to stop him or start looking around to confirm that no one is actually following you. Glancing at your watch, you realize it’s not even noon yet. The day feels so much longer—the rollercoaster of emotions seems to have expanded time. It feels like you’ve lived full days in just a matter of hours.

Jamming your hand back into your pockets, you descend the pedestrian underpass leading out of the park under a busy road. The rolling thunder of cars, trams, and trucks resonates through the walls of the underpass, almost overwhelmingly so. Jan stopped walking halfway through—he is lighting a cigarette, waiting for you to catch up.

The further you walk down the stairs, the louder the noise gets—it’s practically shaking the walls. It’s like stepping into a liminal zone, the sparse artificial light looking strangely ominous, with no trace of the sunny spring day outside. And the stench. God. Stale alcohol and piss - it’s so penetrant you swear the air feels heavier, like a haze, as you arrive at the bottom of the stairs.

You swallow heavily, unsure if you want to keep breathing through your nose but also not really wanting to open your mouth.

Sauntering up to Jan—the smell of the cigarette amplifies the underpass's stench in a wholly new, disgusting dimension—you send him a suffering look.

“Really?” You force out, unable to keep the disdain out of your tone.

The way Jan is moving has a measure of frustration to it; the way he flicks the ash off his cigarette is a little too fast, his shoulders squared, and his movements a little too sharp. He ignores your rhetorical question.

“The Gestapo is looking for you.” Jan doesn’t look at you, keeping his gaze averted toward the end of the empty underpass.

“What?”

It’s like a bucket of ice suddenly dropped down your stomach. Your heart is suddenly beating a mile a minute. Panicking, you grab Jan’s sleeve, forcing him to look at you.

“What do you know?” You demand forcefully, trying to keep your voice stable, but the panic is rolling off you in waves.

“Someone saw you -” He jerks back, but you don’t let go of his sleeve. “Look, I don’t know. All I heard was the Gestapo was looking for a cleaner of your description who works at the Ministry of Interior.

“Why?” You’re desperate now, grasping at any straw to get in control of the situation. “And who told you that?

“You know I can’t tell you that,” He sounds contrite, gazing down for a moment, taking a drag of his cigarette. “But you need to get out of the city before they arrest you.”

Stunned into silence, you finally let go of his sleeve. Jan’s round face looks pained, his eyes darting around the underpass. You are breathing hard, the noise from the underpass in your head now, roaring and pounding. You can’t think. The stench is burning your nostrils, choking you. 

“Go stay with your parents out east.” He adds, not unkindly. “Just until this all blows over.” 

You shake your head.

“I need to go home.” You can’t articulate why, but you need to go home. You need to get clothes. Pack. You need to burn your false identities before they search the place. Yes, that’s it. Home. 

“No!” Jan grabs your shoulder, shaking you out of your reverie. “Don’t go home. Get the first train out of here.” 

Where is this sudden urgency coming from? It’s not like he just led you on a walk away from the central station. You feel a strange twinge in your stomach, but it’s so slight you barely acknowledge it. 

“No,” You force out. “I must go home first—I can’t just leave.”

“Yes, you can.” 

“I can’t!” Your sudden exclamation echoes. Jan, whose face is growing red splotches from frustration, clamps his hand over your mouth, silencing you. Tearing yourself away from him, you bite your tongue not to scream at him again. He throws up his hands before digging out another cigarette. He doesn’t offer you one but focuses his angrily shaking fingers on striking a match.

“This isn’t a game.” Jan cuts at you. He keeps his gaze averted like he’s too furious even to spare you a look. You are just shaking your head like you’re trying to shake your thoughts into place—to start making sense out of the chaos. In any other situation, you would never let any comment like that from anyone, but especially not Jan, go without defending yourself. Fuck.

“I’m going home.” You leave no room for argument, turning on your heel. 

“Is he still here?” 

The question makes you stop dead in your tracks, the blood rushing in your ears drowning out the noise around you. You feel that twinge in your stomach again, stronger this time. One thought suddenly looms large over the chaos in your brain, silencing everything: you can’t make sense of this because it doesn’t make sense.

“I can help-” 

“The mission was completed.” You cut him off flatly, not turning back to face him. Don’t elaborate. Biting your lip, your mind races to put the puzzle together. Something is off. You can feel it in your gut. It just doesn’t quite fit.

How did Jan know you were at the station? 

If he knew you were there, he must have seen Bradley.

And if he didn’t see him, what did Jan think you were doing there?

Slowly, you turn to face Jan again, blinking, face wiped clean of emotion. His movements are sharper now, like he’s going through the motions forcibly, never looking anywhere for more than a few seconds. He’s shuffling in place, like he wants to run from the situation, but is rooting himself in place.

As you finally take the time to observe Jan, you realize his movements don’t look like frustration. They look like nerves.

Now that the maelstrom of emotions and panicked thoughts in you has finally stilled, you can feel it. The weight of the realization is crushing—it’s just not adding up.

Trust your gut.

It’s like the world suddenly jerks into movement again. The noise is picking up into a deafening roar, the stench so heavy it’s misting over your eyes. Your body sets in motion before you can fully rationalize what you are doing. You need to get out of here.

You’re halfway up the stairs out of the tunnel when you hear Jan screaming at you, his lumbering footsteps closing in. Now is not the time to stop—lungs burning, heart pounding in your throat, you push on. You have a head start, which is your only chance to outrun Jan, who is larger and stronger than you. Nearly tripping over your own feet in your mad dash to get away from him, you cut through the shrubs surrounding the park, branches whipping against your body. When you think back to the moment later, you have no idea how you summoned the strength to scale the iron-wrought fence, nearly pivoting off the top as you tried to avoid the pointy spears decorating the top.

Don’t look around. Don’t look around.

You have no idea if Jan is still following you, but looking around will slow you down, and you can’t afford to lose a single meter of your head start. Blind panic is your fuel now. 

The main street is busy. It’s nearly lunchtime, and people are filing out of offices into shops and restaurants. You’re attracting attention, dressed so casually, running like mad—but you can’t stop now. A tram is just leaving the stop, bells ringing loudly. If you go a little bit faster, if you push yourself a little bit harder—desperately, you reach out, your fingers only brushing against the open balcony's metal handle for the departing tram.

You are breathing so hard, your focus singular, to get out of here; your heart nearly stops when you hear Jan calling out your name. He’s so much closer than you anticipated.

Straining, a strangled sound escaping your lips, you push harder. The tram is speeding up, you only have seconds left.

You can’t miss this tram.

It one final burst of energy that you didn’t know you still had in you that propels you forward just enough to grab onto the metal bar. Using your momentum, you jump, crashing onto the rear balcony unceremoniously, bashing your head and elbow against the dirty floor. 

You stay down for a moment, your mouth completely dry, spleen aching, head throbbing.

It’s a good thing Bradley left today. If the Gestapo really is looking for you, you couldn’t protect him anymore. Now, all you can hope is that he makes it out. 

He will. He has to. 

Sitting up, you roll your shoulder back to give your lungs more space as you catch your breath like Bradley showed you. It’s a good thing he isn’t here anymore, but… who can you tell now what happened? It’s like only now you realize that Bradley is not waiting for you at home. It hurts.

He’s no longer there to kiss you, ease your mind, and help you navigate this situation. Despite your ceaseless attempts to convince yourself that everything about your time was temporary, a lightning-in-a-bottle moment between two lonely souls and nothing more would ever come from it, the realization is dawning on you that you’ve grown accustomed to having him around. 

The only person that you could speak freely to. The only person who could truly see you. 

Bradley was the only person that knew you—the person you are now, the person you’ve been forced to become.

And he accepted you.

Suddenly, you feel like crying again. Sitting on the dirty tram floor, people staring down at you as they pass—you feel so incredibly alone.

Finally getting up and dusting off your pants, you enter the tram, trying to blend in with the crowd. A part of you wants nothing more than to go home, crawl into bed, and forget this whole goddamn day.

But you can’t ignore what Jan told you—his story doesn’t add up, but surely he wouldn’t lie about the Gestapo looking for you. It’s not even a question of why; plenty of things you have done could get you arrested at any point. Stealing, forgery, break-ins, harboring a fugitive… 

So it’s a question of what—how much do they actually know? And how much more information will they want to extract from you?

Your head is still throbbing—from the impact, the confusion, and the tears you’ve been holding back the whole morning.

Whatever happens next, you need to get rid of any evidence. If the Gestapo wants to pin something on you, they will find a way, but the line ends with you. You will not give them anything that could lead them to the others.

That’s the least you can do.

The closer you get to home, the worse you feel. It feels like lead is being poured into your boots, making every step harder. You are completely unsure of what to do now. After you get rid of the evidence, what will you do? Should you stay with your parents like Jan suggested? Wouldn’t that put them in danger?

You can’t even think about that right now.

Your stomach is churning by the time you unlock the heavy wooden door to your building. Something is wrong, and if your head weren’t feeling like it was about to explode, you would probably have stopped to examine your gut feeling. But you don’t have time. The quicker you get this done, the better.

Blindly, you make your way up the stairs. Voices of neighbors are echoing through the halls—it’s strange for so many people to be out of their houses. You are not in the mood for building gossip, so you hope you can slip into your apartment without any nosy aunties catching you. As you reach the first landing, you hear someone call your name. Can you pretend you don’t hear them? You keep your head down, legging it to the next flight of stairs at the far end of the landing. 

However, before you even make it to the first steps, your downstairs neighbor blocks your way—despite her being old enough to be your mother, she exudes so much class it’s age age-defying today her normally carefully coiffed blonde hair is… well, messy. Flyaway hairs are sticking out of the casual bun on the back of her hair. The sleeves of her normally crisp ironed blouse are wrinkled as she rolled them up in a hurry. It’s certainly not how your appearance-conscious neighbor, in all her vanity, would ever show herself.

“Anna, don’t go upstairs,” Worry is etched on your neighbor's face, her piercing blue eyes imploring you to stay. She is holding you by your shoulders. It’s an almost motherly gesture—it’s possibly the strangest part of an already confusing situation. You’ve known this woman for the majority of your life—she lived here before your family moved in. But you think that in all those years, you may have at most shaken her hand.

You don’t have words. Unceremoniously, with an incredulous frown, you pull away from your neighbor, pushing past her on the stairs. You break into a jog going up the stairs.

Today can’t end soon enough.

Something changes in the air the moment you reach the top of the stairs. Your neighbor’s voice still echoes through the hall as she screams out your name. Her frantic footsteps are coming after you. The second-floor landing is unusually crowded; more neighbors are looking at you in shock. 

It’s like you walked on stage for an audition, unprepared. Eyes are on you from every angle, staring. 

Why is the door to your apartment opened?

You should have stopped walking at that moment. You should have listened. Turned around.

But you speed up. You need to know. You need to find out exactly what happened.

Tearing through the doorway, you immediately slip on the soaked wooden floor. Clumsily, you break your fall by planting your hand on the floor. Your palms take the brunt of the impact, the ache ringing all the way up through your shoulder, your hands getting coated in the sticky liquid covering the floor as you scramble to get up.

But you cleaned up all the coffee this morning.

There is commotion behind you, but it could be on the other side of the world as far as you are concerned.

Because across from you on the floor, in the semi-darkness of the apartment hallway, Eva’s lifeless eyes are staring at you accusingly. 

She’s wearing your skirt, the rusty color blotted with the blood flowing from her head.

note | sorry i was going through some shit and stuff and I literally just finished writing the missing scenes - sorry for any oddities, it's almost 1am here, I will revise this tomorrow again but I also felt bad for taking so long

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[achromant]

Ranking all GW2 Specializations

by 1) Gameplay and 2) Visual

based on over 15k hours of playtime, supported by badly drawn Elite Spec Icons.

Feel free to make your own version and reblog or @ me. I wanna see your reasoning :3

Explanations, sorted by classes, below:

Elementalist

Base Elementalist: Pretty sturdy gameplay. Features both interesting interactions, as well as great utility. Versatile, and visually okay. Attack animations desperately need cleanup.

Weaver: Elegant gameplay. Flows smoothly during combat and offers great utility. Also has nice defensive options available. Requires experience and thinking ahead to pull off. Visuals are okay, and feel like a great fit for the aesthetic without being too overwhelming. Especially love Weave Self.

Tempest: Really cool playstyle. Requires a similar amount of attention as Weaver, but in a different way. Unmatched breadth of utility within elementalist classes. Could even be a contender for top spot at visuals, but Fire Overload visually drags the whole spec down.

Catalyst: This class has no right to exist. It feels like someone said "Elementalist doesnt deal much damage, let's give it some numbers." and then stopped halfway through. There is no utility, no elegance, no cool interactions with the gameplay. The whole class feels restrictive and clunky to use. If you like the hammer cata playstyle, better play Weaver. If you like nice interactions, play Tempest. Jade Orbs dont feel like a mechanic, but a punishment. Visually boring, horrible UI, aweful animations.

Mesmer

Base Mesmer: Elegant gameplay, but lacks flow in certain edge cases. Kinda wish greatsword was more melee, but with range capabilites. Needs some more fun interactions with its own mechanics.

Chronomancer: Essentially Mes Plus, when compared to Base Mesmer. Great gameplay, fun and flowey. Slightly choppy in some millisecond cases, but still amatzing to play. Visually striking, absolutely mindblowing sound design. Continuum Split could use a more impactful visual design, like a giant illusiory asronomy clock that ticks down.

Mirage: The self contained version of Mesmer. Lacks a bit in support options for allies, but offers elegant gameplay if timed correctly. Visuals are adequately unique, sparkly but still not overwhelming. Does not have the visual Boom that Chrono has, but feels just that more natural.

Virtuoso: What if took anything that that means Mesmer and just. Didnt do that. This class feels not like a Mesmer anymore, mechnically speaking. Lacks support options, and is outshined by Mirage when it comes to PvP gameplay. Also I'm so fucking pissed at the daggers floating constantly above my head. Animations are kinda cool, though a bit overwhelming. Fun Fact: I divined the coming of the Virtuoso in some sketches a while before EoD previewed. Though in my head it was a Guardian Spec, shooting small silvery stars with its Virtue skills. AND it had double Daggers.

Necromancer

Base Necromancer: It fills its role as master of death. Even the base version of Necromancer has impactful gameplay, and both okay utility, damage, and support for allies. Lacks elengance at some points, especially in Shroud. Visually okay, could use more explosions.

Reaper: Death Knight, here i come! Reaper offers amazing visual effects, and both impactful and flowey gamplay. Reaper Shroud has just the right oomph to make it feel like the steamroller it is. Even when playing without quickness during shroud, it feels amazing. The slight sluggishness just adds to the experience. Did you know that when you enter Reaper Shroud, the character grows giant feathery wings that explode within the fraction of a second? So fucking beautiful.

Scourge: As the absolute opposite of Reaper, this spec offers exactly what Reaper lacks: impactful gameplay at range. Though Scourge can absolutely hold its own in melee, this version feels like a true death mage. Only issue i have is that it's yellow. Horrible choice.

Harbinger: Why does it exist? Ugh, this thing feels so boring. Harbinger would've been a better fit as an Engineer spec. I don't even care about the utility of those damn potions, they lack uniqueness, aesthetic, even the skill icons look like placeholders. What does it have to offer? Well. It gives quickness. Though you could just use a Chronomancer Relic and play another spec. And why am i a black cloud midfight? hello?

Engineer

Base Engineer: The epitome of improvisation. Toolbelt, weird inventions. Explosions, potions, flamethrower. Engineer feels like Elementalist without the magic. There's amazing interaction between skills, great offensive and defensive options. Engineer feels like a hectic class at times, but with some experience it can just be as chill as any other class. Could use some more striking visuals, but still okay.

Holosmith: What if we take an Engi and give it just a smidge of magic? Holosmith feels like an extension of Engineer that pushes it into a slightly different direction. It's just as versatile as the base version, but has even better options for agressive gameplay. Playing a Holo feels elegant and has just the right amount of sparkle and whoom. Still has good interactions with other players, but can easily hold its own. 10/10 design.

Scrapper: Essentially the opposite of Holosmith. What if Engi, but even LESS magic? Though Scrapper can feel a bit sluggish at times, it still has a nice gameplay. Same issue as Base Engi though, it needs more sparkles.

Mechanist: Why put training wheels on something that already has so many levels of gameplay? Mechanist feels like the worst option in any situation. The only saving grace may be the alacrity (which is applied in the most horrifyingly braindead way possible). There's no visual connection between Base Engi and Mechanist, neither in color nor in shape. Why is the mech so that? The gameplay would feel more fluent if you just kidnapped a new player from Queensdale and gave them a gun. Would also be easier to handle than that damn mech.

Thief

Base Thief: There's elegance here, but it's quiet. The visuals underline the subtle beauty of this class. Even a base Thief offers nice utility and okay interactions with other players. The only reason i placed it that low is because how stealth works. A better idea would be to replace it with something like Blur, maybe granting a 50% chance to automatically evade an attack and avoiding being directly targetable in competitive modes.

Daredevil: This is the oomph Thief needed. it feels like it hits hard, but with deadly accuracy. You lose a bit of stealth capabilities, which is a plus in my opinion. Essentially, this is what a monk class in other games would be. It doesn't even need much utility by itself, base Thief already has a bunch. Only issue i have is that i would love it actually using fists to fight, preferably in addition to a staff. Maybe could leave weapons unequipped to swap to an unarmed fighting style? Fun though, great design.

Deadeye: The absolute opposite of Daredevil. This sharpshooter class prefers intelligent positioning rather than quick reactions. It offers great damage and okay support capabilites. Visual effects appear perfect for this class, though the sound design is only okay. Definetely needs a better interface for displaying Malice stacks. And maybe remove the casting time of Deadeye's Mark?

Specter: What if Necromancer, but. Not. Playing Specter feels like playing Core Necro, but with more teleports. Wells are, well. They exist, but only barely. Visual effects are underwhelming, the while class lacks the feeling of impact or elegance that even a base Thief has.

Ranger

Base Ranger: I can see how people like playing ranger, but only through a vaseline treated camera lens. The class itself has okay utility, but lacks in interaction with other players. Though a Ranger's defining feature is the pet, it's also its biggest flaw...

Soulbeast: ... which Soulbeast 100% solves. I will continue to ignore Base Ranger and just pretend that Soulbeast is what Ranger was always supposed to be like. Soulbeasts have the option to just. Not do the whole minion managing thing. Stances feel elegant and unique, and bring fresh air to a moldy base class. Really cool visual effects, though i wish i could turn off the green swirlies while merged.

Druid: I was in Druid Jail for most of my raiding days, so i know what i'm talking about when i say "Urgh." The base mechanic of a Druid is the Astral Avatar, which by itself is probably the best thing Ranger has to offer. It's pretty, it has boom, it's actually useful and elegant. The issue here is swapping in and out of it, which feels clunky and more of a hassle that a reward. To heal with the Avatar, you need people to take damage, so you can heal them, which fills the Avatar, which allows you to. heal. them? Better solution would be to make it similar to Firebrand Tomes so that it still needs energy to use skills, but allows you to spread out your healing a bit.

Untamed: What if Soulbeast, but. Thief. Well, the result is a clunky mess that looks like a swampy lump of bonk. Probably makes a wet smoph when it his a wall. There is no way for me to enjoy this class. The supposed flow of a good Untamed rotation is completely unknown to me, simply because it's so damn ugly. Play Soulbeast.

Warrior

Base Warrior: Hello, yes, it's the bonk class. Love it, have it, it still bonks. What looks like a braindead brick only people with a real life play, is actually an ornate pattern of golden filligree. A base Warrior offers elegant and flowy gameplay at a minumum of effort, and can with some experience still weave itself through the flow of battle. Wish it had more fun interactions with allies, aside from Shout skills. Could go great with Wells.

Berserker: Warrior, but with more bonk. There's exactly two issues i have with this spec. One, its visual effects feel lopsided. Needs more boom toward the target, and less burning man on myself. Two, it lacks utility. However, any rotation that's done on Berserker flows perfectly, it feels fast paced and has absolutely perfect sound design. Executing a perfect Axe/Axe feels like playing a rythm game in the way it bonks.

Spellbreaker: Less bonk, more tshink. Spellbreaker feels like someone took the best about a Thief and put it on a Warrior. The playstyle between Daggers and Full Counter feels elegant and smooth, but requires good reaction. Spellbreaker shines versus players rather than against monsters, which is probably the only issue i have with this spec. Beautiful shiny glitter sparkle capacity though.

Bladesworn: Okay, it says on the tin that it contains Flow, but no. Bladesworn trades movement for maximum bonk. Could use more elegance in its skills, but it makes up for it with great bursts, so much that you can almost feel pixels being cut. The absolute worst about this spec, and the reason why it's not in the legendary tier for me, is that damn Gunsaber. It either needs to be broader for more bonk (with a powerful downward strike as Dragon Trigger), or about 50% longer for ultimate tshink (with a ligering silver sparkly line where the blade sliced your pixels), you know what i mean? As is, the class feels like the definition of blue balls.

Guardian

Base Guardian: The first time I solo'd Twilight Arbor's Aetherblade Path was on a base guardian, some time before HoT. I used a mace and a shield and just slowly pummeled my foes to death. Base Guardian has the feeling of a true paladin class, with just the right amount of sparkle and utility. Only reason it's not way higher on my tier list is that it cant do much on its own.

Dragonhunter: Such a beatifully executed class! There are aesthetic parts that make Dragonhunter feel like a holy warrior, but without the support capabilites of a true paladin class. That's a good thing, by the way. Its playstyle feels unique, at most comparable to a Warrior, but just barely so. Dragonhunter has some small group support, but shines with utility and bonk. If it wasnt for the Traps' visual effects, i wouldnt even care for those (excep Dragon's Maw, like wow). The whole class is perfect. Would've been higher on the list if the rotations felt just a bit smoother.

Firebrand: This one is a more support oriented Guardian. It overflows with utility and support skills. Factually speaking one of my favorite classes. Speaking from a balancing standpoint, it can do way too much at once with its Tome skills. There's elegance in this class, mostly due to it being filled with skills to the point it overflows. Visually, amazing work, same goes for the sound design.

Willbender: A movement based version of Guardian. Willbender feels like it tries to be a monk class, but somehow misses still. There's something lacking from the whole design. You could probably slap this spec onto any other class and it would still work. Together with base Guardian skills, it's fun to play though. Still a balancing horror, for the same reason as Firebrand: It can do way too much for a single class. Aesthetically i find it absolutely revolting. I get that the Virtues are supposed to be movement skills, but they feel choppy to use and leave red-blue scorch marks on the ground. These weird trails look like an accident and are outshined by most other base Guardian skills. All over, a meh rating.

Revenant

Base Revenant: I am regularly confused when i see this spec's icon. There is absolutely no reason to play a base Revenant. There's not much reason for me to play Rev anyway, but hey. What i love about it are the Legends. What i hate about it. also Legends. There's utility and versatility, but both are locked behind Legends, which makes the whole class feel rigid and choppy. I am a fan of the energy mechanic though, and the visuals are also kinda pretty. Could use more sparkles though, maybe more in the Necromancer direction.

Herald: Since Rev came out with HoT, it released with its elite spec from the start. And to this day, Herald is the actual Base Rev to me. It sparkes, it bonks. It feels fine to play, not under- or overwhelmingly so, but just. pretty okay.

Renegade: This one feels like a base Rev (not Herald, in this case). It had the advantage of using a shortbow when it released, but since SotO it lost its usefulness to me somewhat. The Renegade Legend's skills are fun; somehow like Well skills, but visually more striking. The rest of the spec is only meh.

Vindicator: Another one with more bonk! Equip a Stamina Sigil and go stomping! Vindicator feels fun to play, has nice visual effects and great sound design. Similar to Reaper, you can really feel the bonk. Absolutely hate the double Legend thing though, it feels choppy and sluggish to use, similar to playing Elementalist while affected by Chill. I would love Vindicator on another class, like Warrior for example. But since it's a Rev. It's a No.

Conclusion, Expansion based:

EoD specs generally feel the worst of the bunch. booooring. There's no EoD spec in the game that i can really enjoy playing.

HoT specs feel bonky, but slower. On par actually with the whole maguuma jungle (except Pocket Raptors. wtf was anet thinking there)

PoF specs feel less bonk, but more elegant. Also matches the Crystal Desert (except Hydras. THOSE feel more HoT than PoF)

Elementalist is my favorite overall, followed by Mesmer, Engineer, Guardian and Necromancer in that order. Revenant and Ranger can dissolve into brown slidge for all that i care.