#somehow there was a part I exchanged glare for glass

[kimkaelyn]

Ditto [s. todoroki]

𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒, 𝐿𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒, 𝒟𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓃𝑜 𝓇𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒, 𝒮𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉, 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀, 𝑜𝒽 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑜 — 𝒟𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑜, 𝒩𝑒𝓌𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈

→ summary: when you transferred to U.A., you didn't anticipate slipping on a pair of chopsticks in the middle of the crowded cafeteria during your first week. however, what was more surprising was the unexpected fall for the boy who gracefully caught you.

→ pairing: shouto todoroki x fem!reader

→ genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers

→ word count: 13.1k

→ warnings & tags: sfw, female pronouns are used, usage of y/n l/n, Class 1-A are now third-year students aka 18+, swearing, the usual U.A. chaos, reader has a Quirk, misunderstandings, some training violence, minor injuries, mentions and discussions of insecurities, aizawa briefly belittles the reader as a form of motivation, beginnings of a panic attack but it's cut short, there is one instance of the reader appearing to be ‘flushed’ in regards to a fever, since this is my first bnha fic some characters might be ooc? | please kindly let me know if I missed any tags!

→ author's note: AHHHH HERE IT IS! I've been working on this for almost a year now and I am so excited to finally share it with all of you. Honestly, I didn't think I would ever finish this story, but I kept slowly chipping away at it thanks in part to the encouragement from @andypantsx3, @missrosegold, and @getstarried. Special thanks to @pikatsum for beta-reading this for me! Thank you girls. This is for you🫶🏻

The cafeteria at U.A. High School was a pretty chaotic environment, you quickly learned within your first week after transferring from another Hero Course in the countryside. There were multiple things that could and would happen after the famous students had gotten some much-needed nutrients in their systems.

It was only three days into the school year and nothing had happened just yet, but in the U.A. world, that something was overdue.

The first chaotic event of the year that everyone had been anxiously—or in some cases, excitingly—waiting for happened on Thursday.

The day started off average; you got to school with three minutes to spare, which was a new record, but you had forgotten your pencil pouch in your dorm room, so you had to borrow some pencils from a girl who sat in front of you; Mina Ashido.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you took the pastel pink utensil from her. There was even a cute little fluffy puffball at the end in exchange for an eraser. Good thing you had an eraser in your bag.

“No problem! I gotcha!” She physically lit up and gave you a bright smile before turning back to focus on the blackboard.

You somehow managed to get through your morning classes running on the four hours of sleep you got the night before. You were cutting it quite close to passing out at your desk during calculus class, but you were saved by the lunch bell.

As soon as you stepped foot into the hallway, you were wrapped up in the faint, delicious scent of your favorite food coming from the cafeteria. Your mouth instantly watered, and you made a mad dash for the source of the delicious scent.

“Hey!” a sharp voice made you freeze in your steps. You glanced over your shoulder to find Tenya Iida, Class 3-A’s representative, glaring at you. The light reflecting off his glasses made him appear more threatening than he really was, but regardless, you still found yourself shying away from his harsh glare and rapid-moving hands. As they passed by, some students gave you apologetic smiles while others were not shy about openly staring at the scene before them, wondering what you possibly could have done to induce the wrath of the student representative. “There is to be no running in the halls!” You cowered some more at his brisk and overly formal tone.

Geez, what a stuck-up, you thought to yourself.

“My apologies, Iida.” You respond with a bow. He accepted your apology with a curt nod before he continued on his way to the cafeteria.

You waited for him to pass before rising from your bow. “Wow, he makes it feel like I broke the law or something.” You mused aloud.

“Don’t take it personally,” a comforting voice said from behind you. You turned to find Momo Yaoyorozu, Ochako Uraraka, and Tsuyu Asui standing before you. Ochako gave you a slight wave in greeting. “Iida can be quite demanding,” Yaoyorozu reassured you.

“Thank you.”

Tsuyu regarded you with gentle onyx eyes. “It’s L/N, right?”

You smiled, happy that she remembered your name from roll call. “Y-yeah! I’m Y/N L/N.” You introduced yourself. “I, um, already know who you guys are.” You suddenly felt shy, and you bashfully rubbed the back of your neck out of nervous habit.

Before your transfer was finalized, you did extensive research into your future school’s history and future classmates. Thankfully—or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it—a lot of information is public knowledge; the various attacks on the school in the year leading up to and the conclusion of the War between the Paranormal Liberation Front and the Heroes, not to mention the various televised sports festivals, and the fact that the members of Class 1-A are practically household names even before their graduation.

The girls invited you to sit with them in the cafeteria. You had been keeping to yourself the first few days of school, choosing to observe from afar the already established social circles and friend groups. You had waited for an invitation to join one of said groups, and here was your opportunity.

The four of you made small talk as you made your way through the lunch line and to the table. Right away, Asui told you to call her by her given name. You told them about your life growing up in the countryside—with you and Uraraka bonding over your shared reason for becoming Pro Heroes—about the friends you had, embarrassingly funny stories from your junior high days, and eventually what led you to transfer to U.A.

“Well, this is the best Hero Course in the country!” you all laughed. “But to be frank, the only teacher at my old academy who could handle my Quirk retired, and none of the other academies within the prefecture had the resources to help me advance. Plus, my mentor is an U.A. alumnus, so naturally, the only other choice was U.A.”

Yaoyorozu hummed. “It is a shame about your mentor retiring, but that is what led you to transfer to U.A., and for that, I am grateful.” The class vice representative regarded you kindly. “I am a firm believer of things happening for a reason, and your transfer doesn’t change that.”

Uraraka nodded her agreement. “Momo’s right. U.A. is a place where anybody can make a difference, and I think you will find success here.”

You were rendered speechless. The tips of your ears turned red as your classmates regarded you with so much hope and sincerity in their eyes. “Uh . . . I,” you bashfully scratched the back of your head. Not knowing how to respond, you instead reached for the small bottle of milk on your lunch tray and brought it to your lips.

However, before you could take a sip, a BOOM erupted from the front of the cafeteria, accompanied by a gruff voice yelling, “Don’t walk in front of me, Icy-Hot!” You reflexively jolted at the loud noises and lost your grip on the glass, spilling the half-full bottle all over the front of your uniform.

“Shit,” you exclaimed as you instinctually rose from your seat, only to quickly sit down again when the liquid started to fall to the floor. The girls gasped and were quick to hand you all the napkins in the vicinity.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Asui asked as she watched you pat down your sodden skirt.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You waved off her concern as you continued to wipe away the remaining liquid. The napkins managed to soak up most of it, but your skirt was still damp. If you didn’t change skirts, you were going to smell of milk for the rest of the day, and you didn’t want to start off the school year with a reputation for smelling vile. “I’m going to go back to the dorm really quickly and change into a clean uniform. Please let Mr. Snipe know that I will be late for class.”

“Do you want us to accompany you?” Yaoyorozu asked. She began to rise from her seat, but you stopped her.

“No, no. I’m okay, really.” You gave her what you hoped to be a reassuring grin instead of a grimace. “Thank you for offering, Yaoyorozu, but I’ll be fine.” Before your classmates could respond, you stood from the table and made your way to the exit.

Great, this is just great, you thought as you walked, not really paying attention to where you were going. As soon as I make some friends, I make a fool of myself.

Unbeknownst to you, there was an obstacle in the aisle directly ahead. You were too distracted by your growing inner turmoil to notice the pair of metal chopsticks lying on the ground before you until your foot made contact and slipped out from under you.

It all happened so fast that you couldn’t even react.

Time froze as you became weightless, and you felt your body become briefly suspended in the air. Before you could react and rotate your body to prevent yourself from violently banging your head on the tiled floor, gravity took hold and yanked you back down toward the ground. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to witness your classmates’ reactions to your misfortune.

Great, now I’m gonna embarrass myself in front of the entire school. Fuck you, chopsticks.

You prepared yourself for the pain of hitting the hard floor but were shocked when you were suddenly wrapped in a chilled warmth. You did slam into a hard surface, but this didn’t feel like the cold tile you expected.

“Are you all right?” a voice asked from above. You opened your eyes, only to find yourself captivated by a beautiful graphite and turquoise gaze. Your mouth opened to respond to the inquiry, but you couldn’t speak. This strange yet calming gaze hypnotized you, causing the rest of the world to fade into a buzzing silence. You watched as the perfect eyebrows of the owner of those magical eyes furrowed downward at your prolonged silence, the action momentarily drawing your attention.

With your attention span no longer zeroed in on the heterochromatic gaze, the world around you suddenly slammed back into your senses at full force. The volume of your fellow classmates’ conversations was deafening at first, but your ears grew accustomed once again to zone them out and focus on the person before you.

It took about thirty seconds for the entirety of your current predicament to register within your brain.

You were hanging about ten centimeters off the ground. The only thing keeping you upright and injury-free was Shouto Todoroki’s firm grip on your wrist.

“Um, hello?” the dual-haired teenager once again drew your attention to him. His grip slightly tightened before he tugged you up onto your feet.

“I think you broke her, Icy-Hot.” A rough voice drawled from your peripheral.

The intrusion of the other voice is what finally brought you out of your stunned silence. “No, I’m okay. Not broken.”

“Did you hit your head?” Todoroki inquired. He steadied you on your feet but didn’t release your wrist from his hold. Katsuki Bakugou was standing off to the side, trying to appear like he wasn’t involved with either one of you.

“I-I don’t think so.” As you reached down to brush yourself off, you caught a whiff of the unflattering scent of old milk emitting from your clothes. You held back your gag and turned to face Todoroki and Bakugou. “I’m sorry to rush, but I really do need to go.” You gave a quick bow. “Thank you for catching me, Todoroki. Bye!”

The two boys watched you sprint away like a bat out of hell. “T’fuck is her problem,” Bakugou muttered. “Fuckin’ extra makin’ me late for lunch.”

Todoroki didn’t respond to his classmate’s remarks. His lips pursed together as he watched you nearly run into a couple of first years before you disappeared around a corner, out of sight.

“Don’ even think ‘bout it, Icy-Hot.” Bakugou drawled from beside him. Todoroki cocked an eyebrow, the only sign of emotion on his otherwise indifferent expression. “Gettin’ involved with ‘hat extra will ruin your precious bloodline.”

You tried to forget about the cafeteria incident, but the embarrassing ordeal refused to secede from the forefront of your mind. As you lay in bed that night, your thoughts ran a hundred kilometers a minute, antagonizing and overanalyzing every second of what had happened.

As the night dragged on, your thoughts shifted from the overall event to one single individual: Shouto Todoroki. You knew who he was, of course. You didn’t grow up underneath a rock. Yet, you weren’t prepared for how much more handsome he was in person than on the news or in photos.

You overanalyzed everything he did in the brief two minutes you were blessed to be in his company, every word he said, and every brief flash of emotion that showed in his heterochromatic eyes. Todoroki had tried to approach you after training in Ground Beta once you had returned from the dorms, but you avoided him, not wanting to face him again so soon after the embarrassing first meeting.

By Sunday, you had begun to forget about your embarrassing cafeteria incident. Your newfound friends didn’t bring up the spilled milk, and thankfully, they didn’t see you slip on the chopsticks and fall into Shouto Todoroki’s muscular arms. You breathed a sigh of relief when you found out that last part. You didn’t want them to think you were a total klutz.

Todoroki may think otherwise.

As you were rounding the corner to walk back up the stairs to head back to your dorm room, Todoroki happened to be walking down. You both turned at the same time and walked straight into each other.

He wasn’t fazed by the sudden collision; however, you were taken completely off guard. No matter how strong you may be, suddenly walking into about a hundred kilos of pure muscle would make anyone stumble. While he remained steadily standing, you, on the other hand, fell back onto your ass.

It took about three seconds for the two of you to comprehend what the hell had just happened. You groaned out when pain flashed across your backside.

“My apologies, I did not see you.” Todoroki said as he offered you a hand. You begrudgingly accepted his assistance, face heating as your super handsome classmate helped you to your feet for the second time in a week.

“Thank you,” you bowed your head to him. You brushed away some dust from your sweatpants, finding yourself too shy to look back up.

You felt a firm, yet gentle hand land on your shoulder. You jerked your head upwards to meet Todoroki’s captivating gaze. “Are you injured?” His heterochromatic eyes searched you for any injury, and they glimmered with relief when he found none.

“No, I’m okay,” you reassured the male. “I may be a little bruised in the morning, but I will be fine.” Not to mention my bruised ego.

Todoroki hummed in acknowledgment, his hand still resting on your shoulder. His eyes were hyper-fixated on you, leaving you to feel bare under his intense gaze.

You shifted your weight back and forth as the silence between you dragged on for a couple more seconds. “Um, I—” You cleared your throat. “I should be on my way now. Got things to study, you know.” You told him with an awkward laugh.

You moved to step around him when it became obvious he wasn’t going to move. Your movements are what must have shaken him out of his stupor, with him bashfully stepping to the side to allow you access to the stairway.

“Right.” He said as you walked by. “Take care, Y/N.” You startled at his sudden usage of your given name, but nevertheless, you felt oddly relieved. You smiled shyly and bid him goodbye. Nothing else was said between the two of you, but you felt his eyes on you as you walked up the stairs.

I hope he likes cinnamon; you thought as you peered into the oven.

To be fair, you should have considered that before laboring for over two hours making kinako cinnamon cookies from scratch—which absolutely failed. Therefore, as a last resort, you were forced to run to the store and buy a box mix.

The he in question?

Shouto Todoroki.

It had been several days since your embarrassing first interaction with the dual-haired male and forty-five hours since your second, literal, run-in—not that you were keeping track, of course.

You wanted to do something nice for him as a way to apologize for your newfound clumsiness and thank him for his assistance in both instances. Your calligraphy skills were not . . . up to par, so to say, by any means, so a handmade thank-you card was off the table, and you highly doubt Todoroki was a flower guy. Not to mention his affluent background, so buying him a gift or offering to take him out to dinner was null—and way too straightforward for two people who were barely even acquaintances.

Therefore, you were left with only one option: homemade cookies.

Besides, all the old aunties back home always said the quickest way to win anyone over was through food.

“Ooooh, something smells amazing!” someone exclaimed from the stairway. Smiling slyly to yourself, you turned away from the oven to the new arrival.

You hadn’t interacted much with Rikido Sato save for the casual good morning greetings and thanking him for the delicious red velvet cupcake he baked for you as a welcoming gift to U.A.

“Thanks,” you said, grinning at the male.

The combined low mutterings of more approaching classmates brought your and Sato’s attention to the doorway where Mina Ashido, Eijirou Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, and Hanta Sero were entering the dorm.

“Woah something smells fantastic!” Kaminari said, gazing into the kitchen in hopes of spotting the source of the delicious scent.

“Yeah, it does!” Kirishima agreed.

“Oh my gosh, what is it?” Ashido asked as she walked over. Her eyes lit up when she spotted you. “L/N! Did you make something?”

“I did.” You confirmed with a slight nod. “I’m making kinako cinnamon cookies.”

“Oooooh, yummy!” the pinkette exclaimed as she bounced over to peer into the oven. Your other classmates quickly joined her, all of them staring into the soft, golden light of the oven with stars in their eyes.

“They look so good!” Kaminari was practically drooling at the tawny treats. At that moment, the timer went off with a soft ting! You politely shooed your classmates back as you pulled a hand towel over your hands.

“Step back, everyone,” you warned as you opened the oven door. “They’re going to be hot.” You carefully reached in and grabbed the cooking tray, cautiously sliding it off the rack and fully into your cloth-covered hands. Despite taking precautions, you hissed as the hot aluminum seeped through the towel and made contact with your flesh. As quickly as you could without dropping the pan of cookies, you turned and set it down on the kitchen island.

“These look delicious!”

“Woah, man, they look amazing!”

“I bet they taste as scrumptious as they lo—”

You zoned out the boys’ compliments as you moved to the sink and turned on the tap.

“L/N, are you okay?” Ashido asked as she followed you. Her question caught the other's attention, and they, too, turned to watch you quizzingly.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Your response ended with a wince as your skin made contact with the cool water.

“Here, let me see,” Ashido gestured to your hand. With your permission, she took your wrist with gentle fingers and held it up for you both to inspect. Your skin was reddened slightly, but it wasn’t anything serious. You let out a sigh of relief. “It’s not serious, thankfully, but we should still put some burn cream on it just in case,” Ashido advised as she turned off the tap.

You nodded your head again and followed the pink-haired girl as she went to retrieve the first-aid kit. Before you walked too far from the kitchen, you shouted over your shoulder to your classmates, “Please don’t eat the cookies, boys! They are still hot and are for someone special!”

There was a noticeable delay in response to your warning. After a pregnant pause, there was a muffled, “okamph!” in response. You were about to turn around and make sure that they weren’t eating your treats, but Ashido calling your name changed your plans.

“Let’s fix you up, yeah?” She said as you both entered the girls' bathroom. Ashido gestured for you to sit on the counter while she dug through the first-aid kit for burn cream.

“Thank you, Ashido,” you said a few moments later as she lightly applied the cream to the worst of the reddening. Your skin wasn’t blistering, which was a good sign, but it was beginning to ache.

“No problem,” she replied. She began to gently rub the cream into your skin, mindful of the sore spots. She beamed at you as she said, “And you can just call me Mina. We are friends!”

You smiled at her. “Okay, Mina.” The two of you were silent for a couple of minutes as Mina continued to dress your burns.

“So,” she started, breaking the silence. “Who did you make the cookies for?”

You sharply inhaled. “W-what? What do you mean?” You tried to play it off by playing dumb, but Mina gave you an are you kidding me look.

“Don’t play that game with me, girl.” She scolded you. “So, tell me, who is this ‘special someone’?”

You let out a heavy sigh, dropping your shoulders in defeat. “One of our classmates. . .” You trailed off, turning away from the pinkette, and absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

Mina’s eyes lit up and her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Oh my God, seriously?!?” She squealed. You turned to face her again. “Girl, you absolutely gotta tell me! Who is it?!” She went to grab ahold of your hands but stopped herself when she remembered your injury. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You said. “But, um, I—” You hesitated, searching for the right words, but you couldn’t find them. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” You said, barely above a whisper, turning away from your classmate once more in embarrassment.

Mina leaned back, taken by surprise by your change of tone. She studied you for a few seconds, her expression falling when she saw the look on your face; the clenching of your jaw.

“It’s okay, girl,” she reassured you. She set the roll of bandages down on the counter as she finished wrapping your hand. “You don’t have to tell me who your crush is if you don’t want to.”

You whipped back around to face her, eyes wide. “C-crush?!” you stammered out. “W-what?! I don’t have a crush! I never said I did.” you explained.

“Yeah, sure,” Mina smirked at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You wouldn’t of baked cookies for them if you didn’t like them.”

“Um, because I’m nice?” you asked with a lilt in your voice. Mina does have a point, though, you thought.

Mina laughed. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go with that.”

A couple of minutes later, you and the pinkette exited the bathroom, laughing over something Mina had said. Your hand had been expertly wrapped and treated with some burn cream. Your injury didn’t even hurt anymore, but you were still going to check in tomorrow with Recovery Girl as a precaution.

As you rounded the corner to go back into the kitchen, you stopped dead in your tracks as your eyes fell to the now-empty pan where twenty cookies sat not even ten minutes ago. Mina stopped next to you, and you could see her giving you a questionable look, but you didn’t—couldn’t—acknowledge her. You just stared blankly at the pan, trying to process what you were seeing.

What the hell? you thought.

“Ah, man,” a voice drawled out. You slowly turned towards the source; Denki Kaminari. He was lounging against the counter as he rubbed his stomach for emphasis. “Those cinnamon kinako cookies were delicious!” Your brain blanked out when you heard that, the organ pathetically trying to comprehend and respond to the current situation.

“You’re telling me!” Kirishima piped up from beside the blond. Sero and Sato voiced their agreement from where they were seated on the couches. “They really hit the spot after the day I had.” The redhead noticed you and Mina. “Hey, guys, welcome back!” he greeted with a wave, a broad smile overtaking his features. “How’s your hand?”

You did not formulate an answer right away, your brain still processing the crumbled remains of your cookies. Your delay didn’t go unnoticed by the others, but before they could question it, Mina came to your rescue.

“It’s okay! Y/N is alright, nothing major.” She informed them. Kirishima’s gaze left you to focus on the pinkette by your side, but Kaminari’s remained transfixed on your blank expression.

“Oh, well, that’s great to hear! I was worried—”

“But you should be ashamed!” Mina cut the redhead off, tone sharp as a blade. “All of you.”

“What—?”

“Mina, why—?”

Kirishima and Kaminari spoke at once, their voices clashing, but the pinkette interrupted them once more.

“Y/N didn’t make those cookies for you.” She said. “She made them for someone special, yet you guys ate them even after she told you not to.” She just about bit the last part out. The boys gaped at Mina, her scolding catching them by surprise.

“Is that true?” Sato asked, rising from the couch to approach you. Everyone fixated their attention on you, waiting for a response.

You hesitated at the sudden limelight, and also in shyness. When you originally set out to bake the kinako cookies for Todoroki, you didn’t expect them to 1.) burn your hand and 2.) for them to be eaten by others. Even though you were upset, you didn’t want the others to be ashamed or scolded. But they did eat them after I told them not to, you thought, pondering your next move.

After a few moments, you squared your shoulders and steadily said, “Yes. I . . . made them for somebody.” At your words, the room’s atmosphere soured. The boys’ shoulders slumped as they realized their mistake.

“Shoot, L/N, I’m sorry,” Kaminari said, stepping forward to gently grab your uninjured hand and bow.

“Yeah,” Kirishima added, scratching the back of his neck and looking away slightly. “That wasn’t really manly of us.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Sero intoned, looking sheepish.

Sato came to stand in front of you next to Kaminari, who still had a gentle hold of your hand. “I’ll be more than happy to remake the cookies for you.” He said. “If you want that, of course.”

You smiled, though it was closed-lipped. “Thank you, Sato, but not today.” He bowed his head.

Suddenly, the front doors slammed open, startling the six of you. You all watched, shell-shacked—you did, at least—as a fuming Bakugou stepped inside, loudly exclaiming, “I had ‘hat dumbass villain handled! Damn Sidekick extra jus’ had to step ‘n and—” He noticed your little group gaping at him. “The hell ‘re ya fools lookin’ at?” As the words left his mouth, the other two members of the infamous U.A. trio entered as well.

“Kacchan,” Izuku Midoriya said, trying to placate the explosive male. “He was just trying to . . .” The rest of his sentence fizzled into the background as the entirety of your attention span landed on Shouto Todoroki.

It had already been well-established that the youngest Todoroki son was even more handsome in person, but seeing him in his Hero costume did things to you. Your mouth almost dropped open to gawk at his god-like appearance, but you clenched your jaw tightly shut to avoid that catastrophe. Despite that, you were pretty positive your eyes were as wide as saucers, greedily taking every inch of him in as if it were the last time you would see him.

I should sue him for the cost of my medical bills when I develop heart palpitations, you thought.

“Shut the hell up, ya stupid nerd.” Bakugou snapped at a sputtering Midoriya, drawing your attention once more. You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

“Is he always this angry?” you asked under your breath; half-serious, half-rhetorical.

“Oh, yeah,” Mina confirmed, voice just as low.

Sero snickered from his post next to Sato. “You get used to it after a while,” he reassured you.

One of Kirishima’s blinding smiles makes its appearance once again. “Katsuki’s always been passionate about, well, everything.” He told you, not bothering to lower his voice. “It’s who he is. We love him regardless.”

Sato chimed in with, “Platonically.” The boys snickered and Mina rolled her eyes, yet there was a small smile playing on her lips.

“Even though his sour attitude can be harsh and lowkey over the top,” Kaminari began, eyes shining with mischief. “It sure makes him fun to mess with!” Your companions groaned in exasperation and started to voice their reservations.

“No, Denki. Leave him be—” Mina urged him.

“Awe, come on, man. Don’t—”

“Heyy~ Katsuki,” Kaminari crooned, rocking back on his heels as the pale blond’s attention zeroed in on him. Kirishima and Sato facepalmed. “Why have trouble catching a ‘dumbass villain’?” he teased. “Bad day? Your head not in the game?” The hair on your arms rose to attention as an electric charge swept the room, putting everyone on edge. Kaminari’s baiting also drew the attention of the explosive male’s companions. Your eyes briefly met captivating graphite and turquoise, eliciting a sharp gasp to leave your lungs.

“You’re gonna regret the day you were born, dumbass!” Bakugou bellowed, pointing an accusatory finger at the electric blond, snapping your attention from the hypnotizing gaze. You fully expected him to charge the male, already taking a cautionary step back, but instead of explosions ripping apart the building, Bakugou grunted and moved towards the showers.

Mina turned to the blond and shouted, “Now why did you do that, Denki? You know better than to rile Katsuki up like that!”

Kirishima dragged a large hand down his face before running it through his unruly red locks. “I’ll go check on him,” he announced before jogging after the sandy-blond. You were at a loss for words as you continued to watch your classmates scold a shit-grinning Kaminari, not even the tiniest bit remorseful for his teasing of Bakugou.

“Please don’t take Kacchan’s rashness to heart.” A new voice piped up. You turned to meet the electric green gaze of none other than Izuku Midoriya, the new generation’s proclaimed Symbol of Peace. “I’m s-sorry, I don’t think we have properly met. I’ve been in and out of campus lately—with missions and such.” He practically skipped over to stand in front of you. He smiled brightly as he gently took your hands in his large, calloused ones. “I’m Izuku Midoriya. I’m so happy you are here at U.A.!” he excitedly exclaimed, lightly squeezing your entwined hands. You couldn’t hide your wince and small gasp of pain as Midoriya unknowingly squeezed your burns. The green-haired male let go of your hands so fast as if he was the one burned instead of you, eyes growing wide. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?!” he asked, noticing the bandages wrapped tightly around your hand. Midoriya’s frenzy caught the other's attention, and all eyes were on you yet again.

The tips of your ears grew hot at the unwavering attention from the Heroes-in-training—especially from a certain icy-hot male who made your heart falter in its beating. “Y-yeah, I’m f-fine.” You stuttered as you met each of your classmate's gazes, trying to reassure them of your stability.

“What happened?” Todoroki inquired, eyes hawkishly zeroed in on your face.

“U-um, well . . .” you trailed off, words fading from your brain as you slightly cowered under his unwavering attention. “I—”

“She burned herself while baking kinako cookies,” Sero spoke for you, having caught onto your growing anxiousness. You didn’t miss Todoroki’s eyes narrowing at the black-haired male’s words. Sato and Kaminari made noises of agreement, the blond absentmindedly rubbing his stomach in content.

Midoriya’s eyes shined. “Really? You did?!” He looked behind you to the kitchen, eyes searching for the aforementioned treats. “Where are they?” he asked when he didn’t spot any, only a plate littered with crumbs. He turned his attention back to you. You opened your mouth to answer, but a wave of shame overcame you as your eyes once again met those of the one you had made the cookies for.

Mina noticed your hesitation, giving you a knowing look as she answered for you. “The three idiots to your left ate them all,” she said with a little bite to her words, glaring daggers at the culprits. “After they were specifically told not to.” She reaffirmed. The boys shuddered at the reminder of their disobedience. The pinkette turned her attention back to the green-haired and dual-haired males. “I patched her up, though. The burns are minor.”

Midoriya nodded his head in understanding. “You should still see Recovery Girl,” he instructed, unashamedly expressing his concern for someone he had just properly met. “At least let her take a look at it.”

“I’m going to stop by to see her in the morning,” you reassured him, words coming back now that your mind was a little clear. His shoulders slumped in relief.

“You should rest, Y/N.” Todoroki’s searing gaze trailed over your form, calculating eyes searching for any additional outward signs of injury or discomfort. “After suffering an injury, no matter how insignificant, rest is important.” He softly chided.

“R-right.” You stammered out, at a loss for how else to respond to your handsome classmate's concern other than compliance. A wave of exhaustion washed over you at that moment. Your feet stumbled as you became lightheaded for a split second. You noticed the dual-haired male take a step towards you, catching onto your sudden exhaustion, but you quickly rightened yourself. “Thank you, Todoroki.” You’re not exactly sure why you thanked him, or what for. His concern, perhaps? He subtly nodded as you turned from the small group, breathlessly mumbling some sort of farewell and something about retiring to your room for the rest of the day.

The others muttered their goodbyes as you made your way to the stairwell.

As you walked up the stairs, head hung low, your throat began to burn and your vision began to blur with tears. The first one fell when you reached your floor, quickly followed by a couple more. You wiped them away, sniffing, as you made your way to your door. You didn’t react to the sudden presence next to you and the weight draped around your shoulders.

Mina didn’t say anything, only traced comforting circles into your back as tears flowed freely down your cheeks.

The next day, you and your classmates were gathered outside Gym Gamma for an impromptu training session. You were surprised that Class 3-A still regularly trained together, but in your defense, that assumption came from someone who didn’t have many options when it came to sparing partners up until your transfer—a major shortcoming in retrospect.

“Today we are working on ‘last stand’ combat.” Mr. Aizawa drawled in his natural I Don’t Give A Fuck tone. “Close-quarter combat in which a violent assailant has obtained the upper hand and corners you in an attempt to defeat you.” He proceeded to explain the instructions of the training exercise and pair the students into groups of four who would take turns being the Heroes and the assailants.

“Midoriya will be with Jirou.” Mr. Aizawa intoned, briefly glancing at the two students to confirm they heard. “Todoroki will be with L/N.” Your muscles stiffened when you heard that. Your heart began to race as you watched the red-and-white-haired male make his way over to you.

“H-hi,” you greeted him, giving a soft smile.

“Hello,” he said, politely inclining his head. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Same here.” You said before facing forward once more as the first group began their round. You and Todoroki observed the match in silence, with you paying extra attention to your classmates’ movements and taking mental notes of how they incorporated their Quirks into hand-to-hand combat.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention. Expecting the new additions to be Ochako and Asui, you turned to greet them with a warm smile but paused when instead of your friends, Midoriya and Kyoka Jirou were standing next to you, both with warm expressions on their faces.

“Hi!” Midoriya greeted with a wide smile and a small wave. “I’m excited for this training exercise! It’s going to be so cool to see everyone’s improvement with hand-to-hand combat over the break! And any new moves! Or Quirk Awakenings! Or—” You had a hard time keeping up with what he was saying as it turned into a stuttering rant as he went on about each individual’s Quirk.

The rumors were true regarding his ramblings, you mused to yourself, wondering how long he could go on for before a small hand on his shoulder made him take pause.

“Midoriya,” Jirou intoned. “Calm down.” His cheeks flushed a bright red. He began laughing nervously while absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck.

“S-sorry,” he said, shyfully.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I agree with your stance, though. Observing others' skills is an effective way to improve your own. Get an idea or two.” You turned your attention back to the ongoing training, taking mental notes of your classmates’ fighting stances and their defensive moves, trying to get a better understanding of the why behind them. You pulled a small item from your jacket pocket, absentmindedly rubbing it between your thumb and forefinger. The movement caught Midoriya’s attention.

“What is that?” he asked, green eyes alight with curiosity.

“What? This?” You held up your good luck charm; a small, pink parrot keychain from a popular cartoon series you had won years ago at one of your hometown’s summer festivals. It was lucky because at the moment, while little you were trying to win, your Quirk had manifested. “It’s my good luck charm,” you explained the pink parrot’s value to you.

“Oh, cool!” Midoriya exclaimed. “You know, I used to have a good luck charm—it was my super rare exclusive All Might trading card! First edition!” His eyes shined as he reminisced. “I would bring it with me everywhere! Even Kacchan—”

“Deku,” drawled a low voice from the other side of your gathered class. The temperature fell as Bakugou’s vermillion eyes narrowed onto Midoriya. “Don’t say another word.”

“He’s such a fanboy.” Jirou chuckled, fondness seeping into her voice. Midoriya smiled sheepishly, not bothering even to try to deny the label. You spent the time until your group’s turn getting to know the two, quickly finding out that you and Jirou share the same taste in music; vowing to swap playlists after class. You were so caught up in your conversation that you almost forgot about Todoroki's presence, if not for the awareness of a body next to you. His chilled warmth seeped into your muscles, causing you to relax one moment, and tense up another.

“Are you all right?” he softly inquired, spying your tensed posture.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You replied, softly smiling but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Just a lil’ nervous, is all.”

Todoroki frowned slightly, not understanding how you could be experiencing anxiousness. “Wh—?”

“Oh yeah!” Midoriya suddenly interjected. “This is going to be your first time demonstrating your Quirk, huh?” he asked you. “Or at least this is gonna be the first time I will see it. What is it again? Object—no—um, yeah, anyway I bet it is awesome!” His eyes still shined with his enthusiasm and curiosity. “Sometime you gotta let me ask you about it! I have so many! Does it work like Ochako’s Zero Gravity? Or Yaoyorozu’s Creation?”

You couldn’t help but give a small laugh at his eagerness. You had never met someone as enthusiastic about Quirks as Izuku Midoriya. It was kind of refreshing to interact with someone as passionate as he was.

“Kind of,” you began, silently pondering over what you know of the brunette’s Quirk and comparing it to your own. “Ochako and I have the same limitations when it comes to the weight of an object, but besides that, our Quirks are different.” Your Quirk was object manipulation; you could telepathically manipulate objects within a certain range. To you, your Quirk wasn’t all that—wasn’t anything unique by any means—but to others, you were seen as a powerful goddess. “To be honest, I’m lacking in hand-to-hand combat skills.” You sheepishly smiled.

“Really?” Midoriya asked, blinking in shock. “I thought your previous school would have prepared you for all types of situations.” Jirou nodded her agreement with the green-haired male. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Shouto continue to observe you with a calculating expression on his face.

“Unfortunately, no.” You shrugged. “Their curriculum was more focused on improving the individual’s Quirk than learning how to fight without it.”

“Oh, wow,” Jirou said. “That could put you at a great disadvantage down the line.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I know. That’s why—” You were cut off by Mr. Aizawa calling for your group to begin your training round. “Welp, this is it, I guess.” You chuckled nervously.

Midoriya gave you a reassuring smile. “You’ll do great!” he said, giving you a thumbs-up accompanied by a warm smile.

“Do your best,” Jirou added before moving towards the training pitch.

You started to follow, but a cool hand on your shoulder made you pause, shivering softly. You turned to find Todoroki giving you an expectant look. “You’ll do fine,” he said, confidently. He looked as if he put his entire faith in you. “I’ll be by your side the entire time.”

You felt a surge of confidence fill you at his words. You gave him a determined look. “Right,” you said. “We got this.”

You swear up and down his eyes twinkled when he looked at you, but it could have been a trick of the light. “You got this.” He replied, softly. The two of you walked into the pitch together, side by side.

The training went . . . not terrible, but it could have been better on your end.

Todoroki, Midoriya, and Jirou were amazing. Even without using their Quirks, they each were a force to be reckoned with. You were captivated by how swiftly they moved—as if they were ballerinas performing Danse des Petits Cygnes.

You weren’t on the same level as them and the rest of Class 3-A. You knew that, and you acknowledged it, but to see and be confronted by it so bluntly in person made you feel a whole other level of embarrassment and shame. You weren’t weak by any means, you could hold your own in a fight for some time, but not like your classmates could—and had.

Perhaps that is what separates you from your classmates. They have battle experience. Hell, they fought in a fucking war for crying out loud while you were on the other side of the country, guarding civilian shelters. You were fortunate not to see much bloodshed, but maybe that brought you to a disadvantage against these future Heroes surrounding you.

The horn had sounded as Jirou pinned you in the dirt for the sixth time, signaling the end of the round. You heard the sounds of Midoriya and Todoroki’s scuffling come to a halt from somewhere off to your left as Jirou lifted herself off of you. She offered you a hand as you began to rise from the ground. You accepted her extended hand with a grimace as the muscles in your back burned.

“Nice work.” Mr. Aizawa said as the four of you approached. “You performed adequately,” he addressed Jirou, Todoroki, and Midoriya. He turned to you. “You, not so much.”

You flinched as the words landed home. Damn, you thought, but he’s not wrong. You had naively allowed yourself to believe that Eraserhead wouldn’t call out your inferiority, at least in front of others. Then again, he was Eraserhead—infamous for his bluntness and apathy.

“Your skills are greatly lacking in hand-to-hand combat,” he continued. “I haven’t seen somebody so physically inadequate since your classmates were first years. Coming from another Hero Course, especially one with its reputation, it’s to be expected that you’re not up to par with your new classmates, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.” As he spoke, he never broke eye contact with you, scrutinizing you. Even with one eye, his unrelenting gaze made you feel as if he could see every minuscule detail about you. “Based on the performance I saw today, it was a mistake to put you in this class.”

You heard a gasp from one of your classmates; its owner unknown. You gulped down your shame and remained silent. You had a feeling Aizawa wasn’t finished with you.

“From here on out, I expect you to train harder and push yourself further than anyone else. Extra training, extra classes—anything that will make you catch up.” His eye narrowed. “If I do not see substantial improvement in one month, you will be expelled. No exceptions.”

Your eyes widened, but your shock did not stop you from replying. “Yes, sir.” You said, keeping your tone neutral as you mulled over his words. Although extreme, I understand the reason for Mr. Aizawa’s methods, you thought. He’s right though. I’m far from even scrapping the level these guys are on. I need to be more disciplined and work even harder if I want to stand on equal ground with my classmates. Resolve made, you promised, “I will go Plus Ultra!”

“Yaass, Y/N!” Mina cheered. “Woohoo!”

Aizawa didn’t say anything else to you, promptly dismissing the class. Midoriya praised your performance and commented on his wish to sit down and talk in-depth with you regarding your Quirk. You promptly accepted his request, telling him you would let him know when you were free. He smiled before walking off to join Iida and Ochako.

“If it means anything,” a voice suddenly intoned from behind you. You spun around, having not sensed the person's approach. You weren’t all that surprised to find Todoroki there, softly regarding you. “I think you did well.”

You scoffed but smiled softly. “Thank you, but you don’t have to patronize me. I have a lot of work to do if I want to catch up.”

“You will,” he declared, before quickly clarifying, “Catch up. Especially with my help.”

You furrowed your brows. “Excuse me?”

“Should I repeat myself?” he inquired, his heterochromatic eyes swimming in mirth. “I will assist you in your training and classes.”

You didn’t respond right away, regarding him with suspicion. You waited for him to name a condition for his help, but when he offered none, you relaxed. “Thank you, Todoroki.” You inclined your head. “I greatly appreciate it.”

“Shouto,” he corrected.

You blinked at him, taken aback. “What?”

“Shouto,” he reiterated. “You may call me Shouto. We are friends, are we not?”

You gaped at him for a moment, processing his words. “Ye-yeah!” you said a little too loudly. “We are friends, Shouto.”

The small smile that graced his lips lit up your entire world and caused your heart to speed up, pounding almost painfully against your ribcage. “Meet me here tomorrow after class.” He instructed.

“Tomorrow.” You repeated in confirmation.

His smile grew a little wider. “See you then, Y/N.” He said before turning on his heel and strolling away. You watched him go in a daze, in disbelief of what just occurred.

“Oooooooo, Y/N’s gotta date!”

You shrieked at the sudden voice and spun around for a second time to find Mina standing there, hunched over laughing at your reaction.

“Mina!” you shrieked, placing a hand over your heart. “You scared the shit outta me!”

She continued to laugh. “Sorry,” she said once her laughter died down. “You were so entranced with Todoroki that you didn’t even realize I was here!”

“Oh, yeah right.” You responded, playfully rolling your eyes. The two of you began to walk to the dorm. “I wasn’t entranced with him.”

The pinkette gave you a look of disbelief, an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, sure,” she retorted. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but you ain’t lying to me.”

You scoffed but didn’t attempt to refute her claims. You put your hands in your pockets and looked to the ground, lost in thought. Mina didn’t say anything else, allowing you both to walk in silence.

The next afternoon, you met Shouto at the training grounds outside Gym Gamma for your first tutored training session. He regarded you kindly as you slowly approached, suddenly feeling quite bashful.

“Thank you for offering to do this, Shouto.” You said when you arrived. “It really means a lot. I don’t know how I’m going to repay you.”

“There’s no need for repayment.” He softly responded. “I volunteered to assist you. Therefore, no repayment of any sort is necessary.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I don’t want to inconvenience you—”

His soft call of your name made your next words die in your throat. “I assure you, this is fine.” He said. “Your company and attention are substantial enough.” You felt your face warm at his admission. Shouto gestured towards the training pit. “Shall we begin?”

He started by teaching you some stretches that are supposed to help decrease sudden muscle spasms and strengthen them. Afterward, he had you show him the little knowledge you had of hand-to-hand combat to gain an idea of where you stand in regard to U.A. training. Once you had demonstrated the few kicks and different styles of punching you knew, you turned to judge Shouto’s impression.

Your breath caught at what you saw.

His handsome features remained stoically blank for the most part, but the pursing of his lips and slight furrowing of his brows spoke a different tale. He grumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like they didn’t prepare you at all, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure.

“Shouto?” you inquired, voice slightly uneven as your mouth formed the syllables of his name. “Is everything alright?”

His beautiful eyes snapped to yours, and once again you were frozen by the intensity with which he looked at you. His gaze was calculating, and you could just about see the cogs turning in his brain as he silently regarded you. A couple long moments later, his lips parted on an exhale and he finally addressed you.

“We have a lot of work to do.” He declared. “But we already knew that.” You slowly nodded your head, curious as to where he would be going with this conversation. “Thankfully, you’re not completely helpless,” he intoned dryly. “Even though you don’t have many skills regarding physical, non-Quirk combat, I have identified several places where we can start, correct, and then build on.”

You steadied yourself, resolve firmer than ever before. You declared, “I’m ready.”

Shouto gave a quick, but detailed, overview of his plans for your ‘training tutoring’, you referred to your sessions as. He was going to teach you everything he thought you should know—which was everything he knew—in order to successfully become a Hero people could rely on.

The two of you began by improving your physique. You joined him on his early morning run along with Midoriya and Bakugou, who welcomed you with contrasting fervor. When you met for your afternoon training, you would run five kilometers before learning various grades of combat moves, and then concluding your time together by sparring.

It was established early on that neither of you would use your Quirks during your tutoring as the two of you were well-adapted to your respective Quirks—and the strict rules regarding their usage.

For the next several weeks, you worked tirelessly on your training, and your dedication and hard work paid off. At your end-of-the-month assessment, Aizawa was pleased by your rapid and exceptional improvement and announced you could stay at U.A. He also informed you that it was never his intention to expel you in the first place, but nevertheless, he was impressed by your efforts.

You and Shouto continued to grow closer as time went by. You still had your training tutoring sessions in the afternoons, and you became a regular on his early morning runs. You even hung out outside of class and training; preparing pre-workout meals and drinks together, and various study sessions at all hours of the day and night. Once, you even packed him a small canister of his favorite brand of soba noodles for lunch one of the weekends he was interning at his father’s Agency. When he came back to the dorm after his shift, he made a beeline for you and promptly informed you that from then on out, you would be solely responsible for packing his lunches.

“Now why would I do that?” you implored. You crossed your arms, awaiting his response. “Are you gonna pay me?”

Shouto slowly blinked at you in the way a cat would. “Why would I compensate you for an action you chose to do?”

You had no retort for that.

As you spent more time together, you noticed some changes. Shouto would stare at you for seemingly no reason, and whenever you called him out on it, he feigned innocence. He also sought you out more often, insisting on walking to your next class or to and from the dorm by your side. He even began to occupy you on your shopping runs, dutifully holding your bags for you. And whenever you would thank or compliment him, his whole demeanor would light up as if Aphrodite herself had shown favor towards him.

You weren’t any better, though.

If Shouto would do so much as even blink in your general direction, your heart would soar and butterflies would take flight in your stomach. At first, you brushed it off as nerves for being the subject of the Shouto Todoroki’s attention, but you were in denial, not wanting to admit what was actually occurring. Looking back, you realized that deep down, you had known all along what was happening, but at the time, you weren’t ready to admit it—to yourself and him.

Regardless of your rebuttals and lack of admission, you were falling for your dual-haired classmate, hard and fast, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

3 months later . . .

“Y/N! It’s starting! You’re gonna miss it!” Ochako shouted from the couches, the other girls of Class 3-A surrounding her, all dressed in comfortable loungewear. It was the class's annual Girl’s Movie Night, which was held every couple of months. Tooru told you earlier that week that they would like to have it more often, like once a month, but given their hectic and ever-changing schedules, the girls had to settle for every few months. They took turns who got to pick out the movie. It was Mina’s turn this time. True to her nature, she selected an early 2000s chick flick set in the States.

“Hold on, wait for me!” you hollered back as you finished pouring the freshly popped popcorn into a large bowl, a few kernels spilling out as you whirled on your heels to sprint into the living area. You nearly tripped over Jirou’s legs as you practically threw yourself towards the last remaining free spot on the couch.

“Ah, sorry!” you exclaimed as you settled yourself into the cushions, checking over Jirou and your popcorn bowl. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, it’s just starting,” Momo said, taking a sip from her cup of tea as the opening credits began to roll.

“Ooh, this is one of my all-time favorite movies!” Mina squealed next to you. “Have you ever seen it before?” she asked.

You hummed, acknowledging her question. You thought hard, trying to recall if you’ve ever seen the characters on the screen before. “I’m not sure,” you said. “I don’t think so.”

The pinkette gasped aloud and theatrically placed a hand on her chest, sprawling backward. “Y/N! You wound me!”

Across the room, Tooru piped up from her spot next to Asui. “How could you not have?! It’s only one of the greatest movies ever made!”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” Ochako interjected. “Gonna have to disagree.” You expected them to start arguing back and forth over what is truly the greatest movie ever made, like your friends back home would have done, but they don’t. Mina stuck her tongue out at Ochako before turning back to the movie.

You all watched the movie in relative silence, save for the light background noise of popcorn moving around in a bowl and slurping from a now-empty straw. It was nice, peaceful; a well-deserved and appreciated respite from the grinding hustle of being Pro-Heroes-in-training.

“Just confess already!” Jirou shouted at the screen as the main character allowed another opportunity for them to confess their feelings for their classmate slip through their fingers. “Gosh!” A corner of your mouth curled at her irritation. A few grumbles of agreement sounded from the others as the movie continued playing.

You had to stifle your laughter as the main characters continued to pine after one another, completely oblivious to the other’s growing feelings. I can’t believe there are actually people in the world who are like them, you silently mused. It’s so obvious they like each other. I can’t believe they don’t see it.

“Ugh, the anticipation and pining is killing me!” Tooru cried out, her slippers moving frantically in the air as she kicked her legs.

Asui raised a brow. “I thought you’ve seen this movie before?”

“Well, yeah, I have,” the invisible female said. “But the suspense still gets to me!”

“It is quite intense.” Ochako agreed. “I hope they confess soon. It hurts to see them think the other doesn’t return their feelings.”

“I don’t understand how they cannot.” You admitted, shrugging your shoulders. The girls turned to look at you as you continued, “I mean, they’re so obvious.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda annoying at this point,” Jirou mumbled.

Mina snickered. “Y/N, as if you’re one to talk.”

You gave her a questioning look, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, come on. You’re so obvious, too, with your crush—”

You cut her off, “I do not have a crush.”

“You have a crush?” Asui asked. You and Mina responded at the same time.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, she does.”

“What is this about?” Momo inquired, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie.

“Nothi—” you began but was swiftly interrupted by the pinkette next to you.

“Y/N has a crush on Todoroki!”

The girls gasped and gapped at you, eyes wide.

“I do not!” You said, face burning as you tried to mitigate the situation. “We’re not like that!”

“Oh my.” You thought you heard Momo say under her breath, but you couldn’t really hear since Tooru started shrieking with glee.

“You guys would be the cutest couple!” she exclaimed, jumping up from her spot on the couch and racing over to pull you into a tight embrace.

“I mean, it does make sense given they spend so much time together.” Ochako mused, a finger on her chin as she considered the situation.

Asui jumped on the bandwagon with, “Oh they are definitely into each other.”

“One hundred percent,” Mina agreed.

“Girl, you gotta spill the tea!” Tooru exclaimed as she pulled away. “Tell us everything!” The others voiced their agreement.

“I do admit, I am curious as to how this relationship came to be,” Momo vocalized, setting her tea cup down onto its saucer. “That is if the two of you have gotten that far into your companionship.”

You blinked at the midnight-black-haired woman, shock clouding your brain for a moment as you processed her words. “Um, n-no. We aren’t in any type of r-romantic relationship.” You clarified, but immediately you could tell certain people thought your answer was complete horse poop. “We aren’t!”

“Regardless, you guys are pretty close,” Ochako interjected. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Jirou nodded in agreement. “And all the extra training you do together.”

“The early morning runs,” Asui added.

“Okay, okay,” you threw your hands up in a placating manner. “I understand what you guys are trying to get at, but you’re wrong.”

Mina came to stand beside you, giving you a knowing look. “Girl, Y/N,” she began. “You can try with all your might to deny it, but it’s obvious what is really going on between you and Shouto.” She placed a delicate hand on your shoulder. “And I know you know it, too.”

You stared at the pinkette, pondering her and the other’s words. You wanted to continue denying what they were saying, but you were getting tired of denying your feelings to yourself. You slumped your shoulders, the tension leaving your body as you resolved to come clean with the truth—to yourself and your friends, besides a certain dual-haired male. “Alright, fine.” You let out a heavy sigh, mentally preparing yourself for their reaction to your next statement. “I like him a little.” You confessed, looking at the floor, too afraid to meet any of their gazes.

The room was dead silent for two breaths before Mina erupted in choking laughter. “’A little’? Yeah RIGHT!” She laughed so hard that tears began to stream down her pink cheeks. After she managed to calm down a bit, she turned to face you fully, laying a hand on your knee. “Girl, you’re lying to yourself.” She told you, tone light yet serious. “We have all seen the way you look at Shouto—” the others nod in confirmation. “—and your eyes tell it all.”

You flinched as embarrassment flooded you. “Is it really that obvious?” you asked. You turned to the others to gauge their reactions. “Am I?” They all nodded.

“Definitely.”

“For sure.”

“We could see it from a mile away.”

You gasped. “Oh my,” you covered your face with your hands. “Do you think Shouto knows?”

“I doubt so,” Momo said. “Shouto is quite intelligent and a formidable force to be reckoned with, but as I’m sure you’re aware, his experience and understanding of social concepts and cues are fairly limited.”

“In other words,” Jirou interjected. “He’s none the wiser.”

You released a sigh of relief. At least he doesn’t think I’m a psycho stalker or something.

“Hey, give him some credit, guys,” Ochako remarked. “Todoroki’s more aware than he’s given credit for.”

“Moving on,” Mina said. “Have you thought about confessing your feelings to him?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shamefully looking away. “No. . .”

“What?!”

“Really?!” Tooru shouted. “But he’s so hot!” The sleeves of her shirt crossed in front of her. “I would do anything to be his girlfriend.”

You laughed. “While you are correct about his handsomeness, I don’t even know where I would begin or how I would confess.”

“Your feelings are valid, Y/N,” Asui assured you. “Confessing one’s feelings for another is a life-changing occurrence.”

“You gotta do it before graduation in a couple months, though,” Ochako added. “If not, then you may never get another chance to do so.”

“Why do you say that?” you asked. “As Pros, wouldn’t we work together often? Why does it need to be before we graduate and turn Pro?”

“Possibly, but with our chosen line of work, there is always a possibility. . .” she trailed off with a grimace.

You understood immediately. “Oh.”

“Although rare in the line of duty, it does happen.” Momo said. “I wouldn’t worry about that though, but I agree with Ochako.”

“Plus,” Mina began, mischief glowing in her eyes. “If the two of you get together before you make your Pro Hero debut to the world, you wouldn’t have to worry about him falling in love with some random civilian he rescues on the street or another Pro.”

You nodded. “You have a point.”

“Either way, I think it will all work out in the end,” Ochako said, her cheeks widening with her smile. “I think perhaps Shouto returns your feelings, and just simply doesn’t know what to do about them or how to address them, therefore you should tell him.” The other girls voiced their agreement.

“Yeah, it doesn’t have to be some big romantic gesture or anything,” Jirou said.

“Just be honest with him, Y/N,” Asui said.

“Yeah, girl,” Mina added, giving you a warm smile when you met her gaze. “You got this. Besides, he can’t reject you. You’re too hot for that.”

You squared your shoulders as a burst of confidence filled you thanks to the encouragement you received from your friends. “Okay, I will!” you loudly announced. “I will confess my feelings to him!”

The others cheered as you all held up your lemon water in a faux toast. In your happiness, none of you noticed the shadows shift in the stairwell and the soft noise of retreating footsteps on the wood.

You were screwed.

“How am I gonna tell him!?” you mewled aloud a couple of days later in the cafeteria. You dramatically slumped your forehead on the tabletop, mentally kicking yourself for allowing the girls to convince you that confessing your crush would be an easy endeavor. You felt a reassuring pat on your shoulder. Groaning, you lifted your head from the table to shoot puppy eyes at Ochako. “Ochako, help me!” you cried. “How do I confess?”

The brunette gave you a sheepish smile. “I don’t know, Y/N.” She professed, her eyes apologetic. “Proclaiming one's love for another isn’t really my strong suit.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Asui mumbled under her breath before taking a sip of her drink, receiving a glare in response.

“Y/N, sweetie,” Mina cooed from your other side. “I think you’re overthinking it a little. It shouldn’t be but so hard. Just be honest with him!”

“But that is hard!” you said, waving your hands in the air. “I can’t just walk up to him and say, ‘hey, Shouto, I think you’re really hot and amazing. Wanna go out with me?’”

“Sure you can,” Momo intoned, trying to reassure you. “Maybe not in those exact words, but when the time comes, you will know what to say.”

“I hope so,” you sighed, slumping your shoulders. “I hope so.”

As time passed, you found that you did not, in fact, know what to say when the time came to confess your feelings to Shouto Todoroki. Whenever you were near him, you became tongue-tied and could barely speak without becoming a stuttering mess. During each interaction, Shouto would give you a long, confused look, his eyebrows drawn downwards as he watched you struggle for words. He wouldn’t comment on it, bless him, but he must’ve thought you to be a total weirdo.

Yet, he still accompanied you on the walk back to the dorm every day after classes ended, and he insisted on continuing your training sessions every weekend after he finished his shift at Endeavor’s Agency. The two of you grew closer, to your absolute delight, and yet you still hadn’t managed to work up the courage to confess your feelings to him.

Until one day . . .

You were sitting in homeroom during free period, chatting with Midoriya about the latest episode of the rebooted All Might: The Mightiest Man TV series.

“I’m telling you, Midoriya,” you said. “It doesn’t matter how much the animation and special effects have improved, the original will always be better than the reboot.” You crossed your arms and lounged back in your chair, waiting for the forest green-haired male to start sputtering his counterargument. “You can’t change my mind. I will die on this hill.”

“Are you seriously sayin—?”

A call of your name from a familiar tenor drew your attention. You turned towards the source to meet a pair of heterochromatic eyes. Shouto was making his way to your desk, coming to a stop right in front of you. You had to tilt your head back in order to maintain eye contact. After a moment, he turned his attention to Midoriya next to you. “Pardon me, Midoriya, but I need to speak to Y/N in private.”

You and Midoriya gaped at the dual-haired male for a good twenty seconds before you slowly rose from your seat. “O-okay.” You turned to face your green-haired companion. You hoped your eyes were conveying your inner panic as you said, “Midoriya, I’ll be back.”

All he could do was nod as he watched you follow behind Shouto, wondering why you looked so panicked to go with the male. Maybe you were constipated.

As Shouto led you toward the classroom door, Ochako and Mina shot you curious glances. When you met their gazes, they gave you a reassuring smile and a thumbs up, respectfully.

“Good luck, girl!” Mina whisper-shouted.

“You got this, Y/N,” Ochako said. You tried to match her comforting smile with your own, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

You followed behind the dual-haired male, silently wondering what was going on. Once you were outside the classroom, he led you down the hallway to a little corner nook bathed in the golden light of the afternoon.

“Shouto, is everything okay?” you asked, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other. “Is something wrong?” At your inquiry, he finally came to a stop in front of a set of windows and turned to face you.

“Yes, everything is fine.” He reassured you. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

You blinked. “Okay,” you said. “Shoot.”

Shouto likewise paused at your usage of unfamiliar slang but didn’t comment on it. “Um,” he started, but drifted off, not finishing the thought. He opened his mouth only to shut it again after a moment or two without making a sound. You furrowed your brows as you continued to watch him struggle for words.

“Um, Sho?” you prodded. He didn’t respond, however, still thinking over his next words. Shouto never hesitates, you thought with a mixture of wonderment and anxiety. Is something bothering him? you thought with growing concern. You felt your heart come to a skittering stop as another horrifying conclusion came to mind; am I the problem?

“I overheard you and the other girls’ conversation on Movie Night,” he confessed at last, interrupting your spiraling train of thought. He bashfully looked away as if he was ashamed.

“Oh, okay?” you responded, absentmindedly going through the events of the night in question. Your heartbeat began to calm down to a normal rate. “What conversation?” You couldn’t think of anything in particular and were about to ask him to elaborate before the realization hit you like a freight train.

“I like him a little.”

“Okay, I will! I will confess my feelings to him!”

“Yeah, girl, you got this. Besides, he can’t reject you. You’re too hot for that.”

Oooohhhhh.

Fuck.

Maybe he didn’t hear that particular part of the conversation! You tried to reassure yourself as you waited for Shouto to answer your question. Your heart rate picked back up as panic began to settle in. We were there for several hours. There is so much he could’ve—

“You have an admiration going on.” You hate to admit you gawked at him for a couple of seconds before his formal wording translated into modern speech. You have a crush.

FUCK!

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” you rushed out, trying to save face and whatever friendship you had with Shouto. You felt your cheeks burn. “Please, just forget you ever heard that!”

Shouto snapped his head to you as your words registered in his brain. “Why would I do that?” he asked after a moment. “We live in the same building with shared living space, barely anything is not overheard by another.”

Oh God, how much did he overhear?

“Besides,” he continued. “At our age, it is completely natural for one to harbor feelings for another.”

You blinked at him as his words registered, your cheeks now tingling due to the burn. Gosh, he sounds like a grandpa giving the birds and the bees talk.

“It—it’s j-just,” you stammered. “I-I-I—” You let out a harsh breath in frustration when your words continued to fail you. Shouto raised a brow before his eyes narrowed. Your heart sank when you saw that.

Oh great, he’s annoyed!

“Are you all right?” he asked before moving so he was right in front of you. You squeaked at the sudden warmth of his body heat as he placed a hand on your forehead. “Do you feel ill? You feel warm, and your face looks to be flushed with some perspiration gathering on your forehead.” His eyes frantically looked you up and down as he examined you for any further signs of sickness. “I should get you to Recovery Girl.”

“N-no!” you exclaimed when he went to sweep you off your feet. “Sh-Shouto, I—I’m fine, really. I’m n-not s-sick.”

“Oh?” Shouto blinked in confusion and, adorably, subtly tilted his head to the side. “Then why are you so febrile? And you are stuttering?”

“It’s not because I am sick. I’m just em-embarrassed.” You whispered the last part, and you couldn’t help but look away from Shouto in shame.

“Embarrassed? Why are you embarrassed, Y/N?” You shut your mouth, refusing to speak. Shouto sensed your hesitation. The light slowly left his heterochromatic eyes and he bashfully looked away from you. “Is . . . is it because you don’t want to be seen with me?” he asked. “For fear that your crush will see us together and not return your affection?”

You let out a gasp in surprise. “What? No!” You are quick to reassure him—your actual crush—of your intentions. “That’s not it at all!”

Shouto met your gaze again. His eyes lit up with what looked like . . . anticipation? Hope? You weren’t sure, but your heart began to race in trepidation. “Then what is it?”

“I like you,” you blurted out. You shut your eyes and covered your face with your hands, trying to hide from your drowning embarrassment. “Like, not even a little bit, but, like, really, really like you.” You whispered from behind your hands.

There was no immediate response from the dual-haired male. You didn’t dare to remove your hands from your face to check if he was still standing in front of you.

He probably didn’t hear me. You internally slapped yourself upside the head.

Before you could react, Shouto was carefully removing your hands from your face. His touch was gentle, like he was afraid you would crack and break under his fingertips. “Why are you hiding from me?” he whispered. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared wide-eyed at him.

“I—I.” Despite your efforts, words weren’t able to come out of your mouth.

“You should never feel like you need to hide,” he continued. He let out an airy tsk before he reached his hand up and gently tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear. You felt your face heat up even more at the action. “Especially from me.”

What.

“W-what?” you voiced aloud. You blinked a couple times, trying to bring your brain back from the brink of short-circuiting.

Shouto chuckled lowly, moving impossibly closer into your space. “I think you need to get your hearing checked out, love.”

You blinked some more. “What?”

“Have I broken you?” he asked, the corner of his perfect lips turning up at the thought. “First you forget your words, and now you have lost your hearing. . .” he trailed off as he continued to stare intently into your eyes.

What is he playing at. . .? you wondered as you blankly stared at him.

The two of you stood there and took each other in for quite a while. In reality, it mustn’t have been for very long—at most a minute and a half—but to you, it felt like hours. You were so close you could see the light reflecting in his heterochromatic eyes and the small streaks of gray in the turquoise-colored one.

“I . . . like you, too,” Shouto suddenly confessed, violently snapping you out of the daze his proximity causes. “I have harbored feelings for you for some time now.”

WHAT!?

“You . . . do?” you asked, skeptical. You were hesitant to believe his words in fear that this whole thing was some sick prank. But—

No. Shouto isn’t that type of person, you thought. He barely understands humor as it is, so he must be telling the truth.

“I do,” he confirmed.

“Oh, um.” You fumbled again for words, embarrassment flooding your entire system once more. You licked your dry lips, missing the way Shouto’s eyes locked onto the movement. “Cool.”

Shouto blinked at you, one of his perfect eyebrows raising. “Cool?” he repeated with a sly smile overcoming his lips.

“Mhm.” You dumbly nodded. “Cool.” You paused before muttering a small, “Ditto.”

He chuckled again, subtly moving the tiniest bit closer to you. He was just about crowding you into the corner at this point. “Ditto, huh?” He mumbled under his breath with a widening smirk playing at his lips. “I think I have broken you, dear.”

You grinned. “Perhaps.” Shouto chuckled again before falling silent. The two of you stared at the other, lost in each other’s gazes.

“Can I kiss you?” He spoke on an exhale, his deep voice somehow even deeper. Before you could internally flip the fuck out and fully comprehend what was happening, you were already nodding. That was all the confirmation Shouto needed before he brought your lips in for a sensual kiss. Fireworks exploded behind your eyelids as you relaxed into him.

You smiled into the kiss. Thank you, chopsticks.

The next day, you and Shouto walked into the classroom holding hands. Everyone collectively stopped what they were doing to openly gape at the two of you as Shouto, always the gentleman, escorted you to your seat. The shocked silence lasted all but three seconds before Mina and Tooru let out ear-piercing shrieks and practically tackled you.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Mina was shouting meanwhile Tooru was holding onto you so tight to the point that she was nearly crushing you into her invisible body.

“AHHHH, I knew this was gonna happen!” she exclaimed before somehow pulling you in closer.

“Can’t . . . breathe.” You wheezed out before your boyfriend pulled you away from the two fangirls and protectively held you to his chest.

“I would be grateful if you didn’t crush my girlfriend to death, Tooru.” He intoned in his naturally dry tenor. His statement only made them freak out even more.

“Ah! Look at the two love birds!” Ochako swooned.

“Fuckin’ disgustin’,” grumbled a deep voice from somewhere in the back of the room.

Before you could turn to shoot Bakugou a death glare, Shouto was already clapping back. “What, are you jealous, Bakugou?”

The desks which had surrounded the blond a moment prior were blown to shiverines.

“I’LL END YOU!”

Fin.

→ extras: snapshot 1, snapshot 2, fic tag

No plagiarizing, re-uploading, translating, or copying of any kind or on any platform of my writing or inserted into any type of AI generator. Do not recommend my work on TikTok. Do not repost on YouTube.

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile (Part 2)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 1

Haymitch doesn’t sleep, but he does wait until a reasonable hour to climb out of bed to drink. And glare at Y/N from the dining table of their suite.

Their wedding attire, as well as the sheets they’d consummated said marriage upon, had been prompted collected. Nothing is ever really theirs. Not their clothing or their houses, nor their bodies. Everything belongs to the Capitol, everything belongs to Snow.

It is a foolish endeavor, trying to keep Y/N safe. Haymitch knew it from the moment her name was plucked from the reaping bowl. Surely she would die in the arena, but somehow she didn’t. Surely Snow would kill her after, but for some reason he didn’t.

For a moment, Haymitch almost believed that he could do it. That he could save her. Spare her from this. But Snow wanted her; everyone wanted her. Haymitch’s stomach turns at the rather extensive list of patrons who are chomping at the bit for just one night with her.

If he’s being honest, he doesn’t know if it was pride or stupidity which caused him to blurt out that he would do anything, in exchange for Y/N’s safety.

Clearly Snow intends to take full advantage of anything. The victors of district twelve can still prove themselves useful and lucrative. A new means to entertain and distract people from what is really going on.

Haymitch isn’t sure how many of the Capitol’s higher ups will have seen their wedding night by now. Not that it matters, most of them have already seen him anyway. But they hadn’t seen her.

Some part of him understands that it is stupid to become attached to her. She’ll be another person for the president to hold over his head. She is just a stupid girl, who makes him do stupid things.

Y/N begins to stir against the mattress.

Haymitch knocks back the remainder of his drink. He has the full lineup waiting for her. Uppers, downers, sleeping pills, painkillers, something to calm her nerves. All color coded and laid out on the table, next to a glass of water.

Sure, there are other ways a person might comfort another. But Haymitch isn’t familiar with them. However, he’s on a first name basis with pills. Booze.

Y/N’s lips part and she lets out a sleepy sigh.

God those lips…her mouth. The noises she made.

Haymitch slaps a hand against the table. He could not and would not think about it. She didn’t want him, she was forced. They both were. He has to figure out how to live with that.

Eventually Y/N wakes, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her eyes find him, at the table, watching her, intently. She excuses herself to the washroom and returns a few moments later. Haymitch is still staring. “Good morning,” she says, in a weak attempt to break the awkward silence.

Haymitch grunts in response, observing as she opens her travel bag in the corner and produces a tablet. The same one she taps away at day and night. Frankly, he’s surprised it hadn’t ended up in bed with them. “What are you doing?” He asks, as she presses a button and the screen comes to life.

“I was just…” about to pour my heart out in a word document, then seal up the file. “Going to play a game.”

“You should take something,” Haymitch nods to the pills, “then you should eat something.”

“Which ones do you take?”

“None.”

“Did you eat?”

“No.”

“Then we should call for breakfast.” Y/N turns her gaze back to the tablet screen. “What do you like?”

“Are you taking notes?” Haymitch huffs a laugh.

Y/N arches a brow, “yeah.” Knowledge is power. Anything from how a person takes their eggs, to their favorite color.

Haymitch purses his lips, “I like bacon, crispy, toast with strawberry marmalade, and eggs over easy. What about you?”

“Oh,” Y/N jots it down, waving a dismissive hand. “I like french toast, with fruit. Hash browns, with hot sauce and coffee. I love coffee.”

“They’ll have it sent for you, back home in twelve. They’ll send you anything you ask for…they’re not supposed to give us money, but things, they are allowed to give us things.” The people who get to watch. The people who pay to watch.

“Do you think we’ll have to do it often?”

“I think last night will keep them entertained for a while.” Haymitch says, “how are you?”

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up. The ask is too intimate. “I’m fine.”

Haymitch sighs, “white one’s for pain, pink peps you up, blue helps you sleep, yellow is for nerves.”

Y/N clears her throat, “my mom…has a pretty nasty addiction to morphling.”

He can respect that. “You should only take what you need then.” Nothing less, nothing more.

“I don’t really need anything.” Y/N lifts a shoulder.

“But you will take one if you need to?”

“Yes, Haymitch.” She assures him.

“Does this bother you, then?” He lifts his bottle between them.

“No.” Y/N shakes her head. “You said you wanted to keep your liquor, that was one of your terms.”

“But does it bother you?”

“No, Haymitch. It doesn’t bother me. We all have our vices. I take notes, you take shots. We are who we are.”

————————————————————————

They take the first train out of the Capitol, after they’re dismissed by President Snow. It takes about a day and a half, straight from the Capitol to twelve.

Haymitch keeps mostly to himself. His own room or the bar car.

Y/N realizes that he values space more than anything. She keeps that in mind when they return to victor’s village. Going their separate ways.

Y/N slides the key into the lock, turning it open and flicking on the light. Home sweet home. After a while she takes the stairs up to her bedroom on the second floor. She turns the knob…and then she screams.

Cameras, like the ones in the honeymoon suite. Folded away neatly against the far wall. No envelope. No threat. Just a promise, that they’ll have to use them one day.

She stumbles back into the hallway, colliding with something firm. “AHHH!” Y/N turns, ready to fight off her intruder.

“Hey, hey, shh. It’s me.” Haymitch hushes her.

“Haymitch?” She breathes.

“What happened?”

“They’re in there,” Y/N tells him, burying her face against the crook of his neck. “They’re in my room.”

“Who?” He’ll kill them.

“The cameras.”

Fuck. Haymitch tightens his hold. “Then you’ll stay with me.“ Snow must’ve had them placed strategically, to set her off. He wanted the cameras to be the first thing she saw, the second she felt an ounce of comfort, returning to her own home. “Stay right here, with me.”

“But my-”

“I have spare rooms, we can clean one out for you. Until then, you can stay with me. We’ll make it nice for you. Whatever you want.”

“You wanted to keep your house.” He asks for so little. “I know you need space.”

Haymitch draws back slightly, cupping her face in his hands. “It’s big enough for two, we can figure it out.”

Y/N nods, as he thumbs tears from her cheeks. “Thank you.”

She can’t go home, back to the house in town, she grew up in. This was made clear the day she became a victor, but she can come here. To him. And Haymitch would welcome her with open arms.

————————————————————————

Haymitch is used to sleeping with a knife under his pillow. But with Y/N landing in his bed night after night, he is forced to retire the blade for her safety.

He still has nightmares. Just like Y/N. Twisting in the sheets restlessly, waking her as he does.

“Haymitch,” Y/N whispers. Shaking him, lightly. “Haymitch, it’s Y/N. I’m here with you, in district twelve. You’re safe now.”

Haymitch startles awake, to soft fingers carding his hair. “Angel?”

“You’re safe.” She says, a second time.

————————————————————————

President Snow is quite pleased with the results of his latest stunt, the cameras in Y/N’s room. The closer his problem victors become, the less likely they will be to cause a fuss.

Haymitch has proved, time and time again, that he will go to great lengths to protect his former tribute.

Coriolanus remembers that feeling well. The way a woman like Lucy Gray or Y/N Undersee could make a person feel. Especially a mentor. The need to save a dying bird is strong, until they inevitably bite the hand that feeds.

Y/N will bite Haymitch eventually, deep; to the bone. Snow is sure of it. Because that is what pretty little birds do.

Part 3

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl

[harrystylesfan2686]

Cheat

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Everything was going so great until Azriel cheats.

A/N: Heavy Angst. Hope you cry reading this just like I did writing it.😭👍

Masterlist

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Gods you are so drunk.

You raise your glass to take another sip of whatever you were drinking, all you knew is that it had alcohol in it. You had asked the bartender for the strongest drink they had and now you have no idea what time it is or which glass you are on. All you knew was that you couldn't think properly anymore.

Good. You didn't want to.

Because if you did, your thoughts would go back to Azriel again. You would again, think why he did it.

He cheated on you. Traded you with a black haired female who was way more attractive then you were. Raven, her name was. You were friends, or at least you thought you were. You finally thought that you've got yourself a real friend now but turns out all she wanted was your mate.

You honestly don't blame Az. She is so beautiful, with green eyes and legs that went on forever. You both met at a coffee shop when the waiter accidentally exchanged your drinks. Your friendship started right away. You were so excited to finally have a friend of your own that you did see the red flags waving right in front of your face.

Like the first time you introduced her and Azriel to each other, you had sat up a dinner because you wanted your mate and best friend to get along. She spent the whole night talking to Azriel instead of you but you thought that she was excited to meet the famous shadowsinger.

You scoff at your foolishness.

One night. One night was all Raven needed to into Azriels pants. One night when you were gone to a mission Rhys sent you on. Just one night when you weren't with Az, she was.

You were devastated to hear what Az did in your absence. You, so badly, wanted it to be false that you asked Az if he truly consented to it. You thought maybe it wasn't true and az, the spymaster, got somehow molested. But, gods, were you wrong.

You left your house and walked, crying until you there were no tears left to fall. You don't know how you ended up in a bar but that's where you are now, drinking yourself into the hole of betrayal and sadness.

"Gods, darling. I was looking all over for you." You sigh as you feel his body loom over you from behind. His hurtful voice effecting you even after what he did to you. Gods, the comfort he brings you is engraved in your body it seems, doesn't matter what happens, his presence will always be comforting.

"Leave me alone." You can't bring yourself to say his name. You'll cry all over again.

"Darling, let's go back home. I'll leave you alone after I know you're safe." He touches you arm and you feel as though you move through space and time before finally landing in your living room. Deffinately a result of the alcohol running in your system. Your head spins and you stumble, Azriel tries to catch you but you force yourself to stand up straight and push his hands away.

You gasp and glower at him. "Why did you bring me here?!" Anger suddenly filling your body, spilling out of the small part at the back of your head that you shut it in. You dont look around your house, you can't. You've handled enough tonight and if you even spare a glance at the house you both built together, you'll break.

"I want to you to leave me alone for a night. I asked for one night alone Az but you can't even do that?" Your sudden outburst surprises Azriel but before he can explain you speak, "I can protect myself. Ugh. You act as if you care about me, but I know you're just acting." You can't control your words and maybe don't want to. "You wouldn't have cheated on me if you did." You grumble and Azriel has the ability to look hurt.

"What do you think would have happened if I was the one who had cheated?" You glare at him. "You would hate me and have kicked me out of the house. The inner circle would despies me for hurting you and laying with another male. Some of them would literally kill me! Why? Because they love you. Love you in a way that no one loves me." You see red and tears start falling down your face when he opens his mouth, probably to oppose to what you're saying but it's true, you know it is. So you don't give him the chance to speak and continue.

"You have a family to go to when you're hurt or angry but I have no one. You have friends that will stand by you no matter what, I dont. The only one that I thought was, turned out to be a back stabbing bitch. My friends are you friends, My family was yours first. I don't have anyone to call my own! You were my everything, Azriel. Now I don't have anyone."

Your crying so much that its now getting difficult to breath. Your not even sure what you're speaking now but all you know is that your hurting Azriel with every word that leaves your mouth judging by the tears that well in his eyes and slowly fall down his face. His looks down in shame because the severe anguish in your eyes is too much for him to handle.

"I am all alone. I have no where to go, no one to go to. I don't want to face Feyre or Rhys or anyone else because I know that no matter what, they'll always be with you. I don't want to go back home because it's filled with memories of us. All the times you said you loved me, all the times you showed me just how much, all the time you promised me that you will never hurt me and that you will be with me until death parts us. You showed me those wonderful dreams just to crush them because you wanted to get your dick wet! You broke my heart and did the exact thing you swore not to do."

"Why would you do this to us? Why would you do this to me?" Your knees buckle and Azriel steps forward, hugging you to his chest and preventing you to fall. Your words incoherent now.

He sits on his knees with you as you sob into his chest and hold onto him for dear life. You don't have the energy to push him away and his touch feels oh so good, so you just let him hold you, for now.

You both sit in middle of the house you once called home and cry for the relationship that's now beyond broken.

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[perseephoneee]

Pls write about damon salvatore x y/n going skiing

ski cabin (damon salvatore x f!reader) {ficmas 2023}

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ happy day 10 of ficmas!

warnings: damon, smut (i censor it so you can skip!): fingering, blood-sharing, unprotected vamp sex

a/n: i tried writing smut. might be a failure. might not. i have no clue. i just work here. also i wrote this while watching the matrix and eating homemade nachos

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2023

Once upon a time, your life resembled a sense of normalcy. And then you met the Salvatores. Vampire brothers who seemed to attract trouble no matter where they went, and somehow, they had clung themselves to your life. You would love to blame Elena for this. Still, truthfully, you also had a fascination with their propensity for idiocracy and probably landed in this situation alone. The situation? Being a target for whatever big bad it was this week. 

It was decided that people should split up to minimize their chances of being caught. Unfortunately, you ended up with Damon Salvatore. Damon was the oldest of the Salvatore brothers and the most annoying. He was morally grey, somewhat self-serving, and handsome in a way that should be illegal. Sometimes, you thought he might be fond of you, but then he'd say something sarcastic and mean, and you'd remember why you loathed being around him. Since everyone split up, you and Damon opted to go to one of the nearby mountains, ending up at some ski lodge that some families would use more for vacation than for hiding. It was snowy, and the ice bit your cheeks as the wind tried to push you back aggressively. You sighed in relief when you finally got to the resort lodge and could breathe warm air. Annoyingly, Damon was barely frazzled. 

"We should ski," Damon said to you. You brushed your fingers through your hair, trying to get snow out as you glared at him. 

"I don't ski."

"Quitters talk," Damon sighed, taking in his surroundings. "Besides, what else is there to do? Besides each other." He whispered that last part to you, that stupid half-smirk on his face. You slapped him in the arm. He was a compulsive flirt at the worst of times. He also loved to ignore you when you expressed disagreement with what he said. So, he rented skis (he had no money, so you guessed compulsion) and forced you to suit up. You tried biting him when he attempted to help you, but you think that only added fuel to his fire. Waddling outside was even worse, as you relied on him most of the time. Looking at the snow-capped hills made fear grip your heart. You wished that the enemy would just kill you already. "Why do you look like you're going to throw up?"

"I don't like this."

"It's fun. We could be brooding in a cabin like my brother, but instead, we're in the great outdoors," Damon laughed. You tried shifting on your skis but felt your knees lock up. "Seriously, what's your problem?"

"I like having control over whether my body is going to eat shit or not."

"You and your control," Damon grumbled. "Y/N, learn to live a little." Shockingly, Damon was weirdly patient with you as he showed you the basics of skiing. He even helped you down the bunny slopes with minimal teasing. He taught you how to pizza, and when you felt yourself start to slip, he'd grab you and hold you upright. It was one of the few times where you weren't sniping at each other the whole time and instead actually having fun. Your body was exhausted when you returned to the lodge, and you were thankful to take off all the warm and heavy gear. Unsurprisingly, Damon immediately got himself a glass of bourbon. You got a hot chocolate and enjoyed picking the whipped cream off with your finger and licking it off. While you enjoyed your dessert, Damon went to find an available room in the lodge. He came back a few minutes later with a devilish smirk on his face. 

"I don't like that look," you mumbled, sipping more hot cocoa. 

"Guess what, princess? The only room left is a single bed," Damon fell next to you on the couch, throwing his arm around you against your protests. "Guess we'll be sleeping together after all."

"You're ruining my quality hot cocoa time," you hissed, pulling away from his arm. He just laughed, as he never took your threats that seriously. Why should he? You were human. He was a vampire. It was an unfair fight. 

You hadn't packed much when you ran, so you just tossed your backpack in the corner of your room when you got there. It was a queen-sized bed, at least, with an ensuite bathroom and winter cabin appeal. There wasn't a couch, just a scratchy-looking chair. You could sleep on the floor. 

"You're not sleeping on the floor," Damon said behind you, almost scaring you half to death. 

"I didn't say anything."

"I can hear you thinking," Damon muttered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine at his proximity. He went to the lounge on the bed, laying back against the pillows, every bit emulating Adonis with how he wrapped his arms around the back as his face caught the light streaming through the window. Sometimes, you wondered whether Damon's favorite form of torture was just being the object of desire that was unattainable. Yes, he drove you up a wall, but you weren't stupid. He could be loyal when he wanted, and his body alone was sculpted by some vain artist who wished to achieve perfection. You could see his arm muscles, the sunlight dancing across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and his lips. His eyes were the color of the sky reflected on the snow, a dangerous blue. Like a wolf just waiting for its prey to slow enough to make its bite. "Admiring the view?" he purred, turning to look at you. 

"Admiring a view, not necessarily you." You stepped closer into the room, removing the scarf and jacket around your neck. You kicked off your boots, leaving you in just your sweater and jeans. You pretended not to notice him watching your movements. There was a desk against the wall; you sat at the chair and faced Damon, curling your legs up under you. 

"You're scared of me," Damon said, turning back to face the window. 

"Am not," you huffed. 

"You think I'm gonna bite you?"

"Yes," you answer plainly. Frankly, you had yet to learn where you stood with Damon. Sometimes, he treated you like garbage; other times, you thought he would give up everything to protect you. 

"Come here," Damon sat up, moving to the end of the bed. You look at him with confusion. He huffs in frustration, grabbing you and pulling you onto the bed with him. You fall against the pillows with a yelp, glaring at the vampire as he sits back next to you. "I would never hurt you."

"You're not always the nicest," you mumble. "Sometimes I can't tell."

"Y/N, look at me," Damon grabbed your chin, forcing you to face him. "I'm damaged goods, but don't think that I would agree to hide out here with you if I didn't care. I do care. A lot." He brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, his touch gentler than expected. "The best thing about returning to Mystic Falls was meeting you."

Damon was never a subtle person, and he doesn't try to be one now as he leans down and kisses you. His hand cups your face, tilting your head back so he can deepen the kiss. You let out a sigh of contentment, which just fuels him further. He tasted like bourbon, and you found you enjoyed it. 

*smut!!! proceed only if you want to*

Your hand found its way to his hip, fisting the fabric as he moved to be above you. He was assertive but not rough, and it was something you appreciated. His hand dipped under your sweater, feeling its way to your waist and under your breasts. You let out a gasp as he moved his lips to your neck, leaving nips and kisses and, most likely, many marks. Your hand flew up to his hair, gripping the raven locks and causing him to growl. 

"You drive me crazy," he mumbled, helping you pull your sweater over your head. He kissed you again, his hand running over the smooth skin of your stomach. He pulled away when you shrank back, hesitant. "You're beautiful, don't worry." He dropped down, kissing over the expanse of your belly, helping you feel more comfortable. He kissed his way up to your bra, for once looking unsure. You gave him a smile as you sat up, reaching behind to unhook your bra and toss it aside. Damon wasted no time planting kisses and licks over, under, and in between your breasts. The moan you let out was embarrassing, but Damon was just encouraged. He came back up to your lips, his fingers still playing with your nipples. 

"I see you like my mouth now," Damon whispered. 

"I hate you," you kissed his jaw, leaving bites down his neck. It was your turn to smirk when he became the one making noises. Your hands ran under his shirt, feeling the muscles in his shoulders. He sat back to remove it, and you spent a second admiring his figure. The both of you feeling impatient, you pulled off both your pants, so you were left in your underwear. Damon flicked the waistband of your grey panties with a bow in the middle. 

"Cute."

"Do you always talk this much?"

"Only to girls I like."

You rolled your eyes, smiling at the boy as his hands ran up your thighs. You pulled him down for a scorching kiss, already addicted to his lips on your own. One of his hands ran between your thighs, lightly touching your clothed center. You hissed into his mouth, and he only smirked. 

"Can I remove these?" Damon asked, looking at you. You nodded, shirking them so you were completely bare. You felt so vulnerable and yet comfortable in his presence. You sighed in pleasure when his finger found your clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure to make you crazy. When he entered you with his fingers, his thumb replacing the gentle motions on your clit, you let out a moan that was almost pornographic. You buried your head in his neck as he pumped his fingers in and out. If his touch was this heavenly, you weren't sure you were capable of learning what else he could do. You moved your hand to his briefs, but he nipped your jaw as a warning. "No touching." He removed his hand, leaving you feeling empty and disappointed. You were about to deliver a sarcastic retort. Still, it died on your tongue as he removed the last piece of clothing, and you were faced with his better-than-average member. Damon grabbed your calves, pulling you farther down the bed and situating himself between your thighs. He kissed you hard, lining himself up before pushing in slowly. The stretch was a lot, but the pleasure overrode it as you felt your head drop back in a moan. 

"Fuck," you swore, wrapping yourself around him as he started to move. He fit you in a way you hadn't experienced before, and you weren't sure who you'd become when he left you empty. 

"I should've done this sooner," Damon groaned, kissing your neck and shoulder. He let out a hiss of pleasure when your nails scraped across his shoulder blades. He pulled out, sitting back against the headboard and pulling you onto his lap. He helped you sit back down on him before you had time to complain about the temporary emptiness. His hands grabbed your thighs, helping you bounce on him. Both of you moaned, and your head fell back as you fell into a rhythm. 

"The sight of you coming apart on my cock, tits bouncing, is the best thing I've seen in my life," Damon smirked, leaning forward and attaching himself to one of your tits. You had no clever retort, nothing to match the sense of euphoria you were experiencing. You noticed the veins under Damon's eyes and used your thumb to brush them gently. 

"You can bite," you whisper, eyes widening at the dark overtaking his eyes, but you aren't scared. He didn't go for your neck like you thought; no, he sunk his fangs into the top of your tits. One of his hands gripped your hip, the other reaching between your legs to circle your clit. It was so much pain and pleasure at once that you raced towards a finish you had been nearing for a while. You came with a shout, head falling onto Damon's neck. He came after you, fangs detaching and a growl leaving his lips. 

*end of smut*

You separated, falling to rest next to Damon. He pulled you into his side, biting his wrist and touching your lips. You accepted the blood hesitantly, letting it coat your throat before pulling away. He kissed the top of your head, one of the most domestic things you had ever experienced. 

"Damon," you whispered, tracing his chest with your fingertip. He looked at you in question. "I would be open to being yours." You see a boyish smile on his face, something that makes him look the age he was turned and not the age he is now. 

"I think that can be arranged," he said, kissing you again. 

The next day, he took you skiing again, but you kissed at the bottom of the slope this time. 

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part eighty-eight: "The Birthday Brunch"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Matt meet up with your friends for Marci's birthday brunch.

Or The pair of you end up stumbling on a surprise of your own afterwards.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 2.9k

a/n: This update is light and fluffy with a surprise at the end! Enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @mattkinsella @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @linamarr @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989

"So, are you feeling any older today?" Karen asked Marci, setting her mimosa back down.

Across the table from you and Matt, Foggy began to swiftly shake his head beside his wife. His wide eyes were on Karen as he roughly waved a hand in the air, indicating that was not the question to ask her this morning. The movement immediately caught Marci’s attention and she glared at Foggy's not-so-subtle gesture. He abruptly stopped, pretending he had been trying to grab his glass of water the entire time. 

"I found some gray hairs this morning," Marci glowered, her focus returning to Karen as she answered the question. "So yes, I definitely feel older today. And I don't like it."

"I'm sure it was just a really, really blonde hair," you told her.

Marci's dark glare fell on you, the weight of it immediately causing your back to straighten in your chair as you sent her a placating smile in return. Beside you, Matt readjusted his glasses on his nose as he shifted in his seat. A second later you saw his signature charming smile slip onto his lips.

"Personally, I think you look great, Marci," he told her. "You don't look like you've aged a day."

At Matt’s comment, Foggy choked on his sip of water, his eyes somehow managing to widen further in absolute mortification that Matt would make such an ill-timed blind joke. To your left, Karen threw a hand over her mouth as she attempted to stifle a laugh while Marci's piercing gaze slid over to Matt on your right. Matt continued to smile back at her, entirely unphased and completely aware of what a smartass he was being. Though seconds later Marci's eyes softened, a grin tugging up the corner of her lips. You swore Foggy visibly deflated in relief beside her. 

"Funny, Murdock," she countered. "But I don't particularly want to think about my age this morning. Even though I'm happy you all came out for brunch with us." 

"We wouldn't have missed celebrating your birthday," you assured her.

"And Foggy wouldn't have let us," Matt added.

Your head spun towards him, mouth gaping open at his continued teasing. Nudging him with your elbow, Matt chuckled in response. 

"I'm kidding, of course," Matt said, draping an arm around your shoulder. "You know you're like family to us, Marci."

Your teeth bit down on the tip of your tongue at Matt’s words, heat burning at your cheeks. Ever since you'd moved in with Matt a week ago–besides noticing the inability for you both to keep your hands to yourselves which had led to so much sex that your cunt was still aching from overuse as you sat in your chair–you'd noticed Matt had started referring to the pair of you as an 'us' on occasion now. Something he hadn't done before. And judging by the looks on everyone else's faces, they'd caught that, too. Your three friends had also all caught the way you'd nervously dropped your gaze to the table, fidgeting in your seat.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Marci and Karen exchange a look. You had a feeling they were about to interrogate the pair of you on your first week of living together. Your stomach twisted anxiously just before you felt Matt’s hand gently squeeze your shoulder in reassurance. But when Marci's focus returned to you as she leant forward in her seat, extreme interest written all over her face, your suspicions were quickly confirmed.

"We haven't had a chance to talk since you got settled into Matt's this past week," she began, her tone mischievous. "How's living together been going for you both?"

“Great,” you replied quickly, a nervous smile on your lips.

“Really?” Karen asked, her brows rising curiously onto her forehead. “No mishaps or arguments yet? Especially with the furniture being rearranged?”

You cleared your throat, your hands fidgeting with the silverware on your napkin as you remembered the brief argument yesterday morning before work. It was the first argument you’d had living together and it was about the pair of you having too much sex–who would've thought that��would be the argument?

Matt shrugged beside you. “Nah, not really,” he answered, pulling you a bit into his side. “We’ve been having too much fun to really argue.”

Marci almost screamed in delight, her finger flying across the table at the pair of you as Karen let out a pleased squeal. Foggy was quick to duck his head, attempting to hide behind his hands at the table. You personally wanted to do the same with the way a few people at the nearby tables were now staring at you.

“I knew it!” Marci shrieked. “I knew you both would be fucking like rabbits!”

Karen giggled, her eyes on you. “Is that why you were complaining about being sore this week?” she asked. “You and Matt just can’t keep your hands to yourselves?”

You shook your head, not wanting to have this conversation with Matt and Foggy right here. “I really don’t think–”

“It’s certainly been a problem,” Matt cut you off. “But I’m not really complaining. Like I said, we’ve been having fun.”

You saw Marci and Karen exchange a look of pure delight just before your head spun towards Matt, a look of sheer horror on your face. He glanced down towards you, shooting you that charming smile of his.

“Matt!” you whisper-yelled at him. 

“What?” he asked innocently. “I’m sure you’re going to tell them all the details later. And besides, if you’re this riled up–” he leaned in towards your ear, “–you’re probably going to be too irritated with me to want me to rip that dress off of you when we get home and–”

“Matt!” you shrieked again, face heating at his words.

He chuckled, the warmth of it filling your ears and sending a shudder rippling down your spine. His fingertips lightly brushed against the skin of your shoulder, goosebumps rising along your arms despite the embarrassment flooding you.

"I stand corrected," he whispered. 

"What is your secret?" Marci asked curiously, leaning forward on her elbows towards you. 

"Babe, maybe we should talk about something else?" Foggy suggested. "Something that doesn't make everyone in here stare at us?"

"I absolutely agree," you said.

"Fine," Marci said with a sigh, settling back into her seat. 

"Do you remember how embarrassed you used to get around Matt? Always blurting out strange things?" Karen asked you. "And now here you two are practically inseparable."

Matt's hand along your shoulder pulled you further into his side as he leaned down, placing a kiss against the side of your head. Your eyes briefly fluttered closed as Matt's lips lingered, your heart beating unsteadily in your chest at the feel of them. 

"I hear wedding bells," Marci sing-songed across the table.

"Might want to get your ears checked then," Matt teased as he pulled away from you. "Sounds like your age really is catching up to you if you're hearing a ringing in your ears."

Marci's eyebrows shot up onto her forehead as Matt just sat beside you, smiling sweetly back at her. You were trying to bite back a smile of your own as Karen started to crack up to your left, struggling to contain her amusement. Across the table, Foggy sighed and shook his head.

"Buddy, I know you generally have a death wish," he began, "but I never thought you'd be dumb enough to actually provoke my wife to kill you."

"That would make an interesting front page article," you joked. "The big bad Devil of Hell’s Kitchen throttled to death at Wake 'N Bacon because he couldn't stop pointing out that Marci Nelson turned–"

Marci sharply pointed a manicured nail at you, her eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare finish that sentence or you'll both make the front page of The Bulletin," she warned. 

Both of your arms were wrapped around Matt’s left one as the pair of you made your way back home from the restaurant, Matt's cane tapping along the sidewalk. Marci's birthday brunch had been fun and you'd enjoyed seeing your friends again this weekend. Even though you'd been texting them throughout the week, you hadn't actually seen them since they'd all helped you move into Matt's apartment last weekend and you had inevitably missed them.

The brunch had also been a welcome distraction from Matt and yours' problem of constantly fucking. This weekend the pair of you had agreed to work on self-restraint. It seemed utterly ridiculous that this was an actual "issue" with you both–what couple actually needed to have less sex? But here you were, having to open the bedroom windows while you had been getting ready this morning in hopes to lessen the scent of your pheromones in the bedroom as you changed because Matt had been getting a little too handsy. It at least seemed to help him focus on getting ready himself, which only led to you both joking about just shoving Matt's head out of an open window whenever he made advances on you in the future.

"You finish that article?" Matt asked as the pair of you walked.

"Mhmm," you hummed with a nod. "Finished it while you were out last night."

"Good," Matt replied. "Hopefully you'll feel less stressed and can enjoy this weekend with me then. Last weekend was a little…busy."

"Well I wonder why," you teased, squeezing his arm between yours as he chuckled. "You planning on going out criminal wrestling tonight?"

Matt laughed, the warm sound drawing a smile to your face as you both made your way down the sidewalk. You still loved making him laugh.

"Criminal wrestling now?" he asked. "That's what I do?"

"Well you've never come up with a name for it," you replied with a shrug. "And it sounds better than asking if you’re going out and doing your illegal activities."

"Mmm,” Matt purred back. “ I'd like to do some criminal wrestling with you back home.”

"Matt," you warned. "That's what we're trying to avoid today."

"Do we need to, though?" he countered, glancing down at you. "We had nothing planned for the day besides that brunch so…?"

"I literally can't take anymore, Matt," you whined back. "I won't be walking all weekend if we have sex today. We need to find something wholesome to do instead."

"Wholesome?" Matt teased back with a laugh. "Like what? Go to church?"

You perked up excitedly at his suggestion. "We haven't stopped by to visit Maggie in a couple of weeks," you pointed out. "Maybe we should–"

Matt came to an abrupt stop on the sidewalk, pulling you to one beside him. Your brows furrowed as you watched his head dart to the side. The foot traffic began to spill around the pair of you as Matt continued to stare down the alley on his right. You craned your neck, trying to see whatever it was he was picking up on, but all you spotted was a dumpster and some garbage bags on the ground lying around it.

"What?" you asked him. "Fancy Devil senses catch something?"

“Yeah,” Matt muttered. “I thought I heard…a cat?”

You snorted in response, though Matt was far too distracted to respond to the noise as he usually did. His brows only further drew together beneath his red glasses as he continued to focus on the alley.

“I mean, there’s probably an apartment nearby with a cat,” you told him. “Or many apartments nearby with cats, actually.”

“No…” he replied, voice trailing off as he took a step towards the alley. “It sounded like it was coming from in here.”

Your nose scrunched in response to his words. “In the alley?” you asked him.

Matt nodded, disentangling himself from you as he began to fold up his cane. He took a few steps into the alley, his head still tilted to the side as he listened in on whatever it was he could hear that you certainly couldn’t. After a moment you followed after him, eyes narrowed as you watched him make his way over towards the dumpster.

“I think it’s in here,” Matt said. “Can you hold this for me?”

He held his cane out towards you and you took it from him wordlessly. Matt focused back on the dumpster, placing both of his hands along the ledge of it before effortlessly hoisting himself up and into it. You cringed when you heard the soft thump of him landing in a pile of garbage just before he ducked down out of sight.

For a moment you stood there, twisting his cane between your hands as you waited for him. You were about to call out to him when he appeared again–this time unmistakably holding a cat. The poor thing looked a little thin, its light gray fur looking a bit dingy and dirty as the cat’s nails dug into Matt’s black tee-shirt, the cat clinging desperately to him. Your heart immediately clenched at the sight of the cat as you hurried over to the dumpster, slotting Matt’s cane beneath an arm as you tried to free it from him.

“You poor kitty!” you cooed, cradling the cat against your chest before its nails soon dug into you through your dress instead. “Who would leave you in a dumpster?”

With a grunt, Matt easily climbed back up and out of the dumpster, his own nose wrinkled in disgust at the smell. No doubt he’d need a shower when the pair of you got back home.

“I hate people who do that,” Matt told you, reaching out and taking his cane from you. “I’ve rescued multiple litters of puppies or kittens from dumpsters around the city a few times now. It’s disgusting.”

Your gaze flew up to Matt in surprise. “You have?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” he answered with a nod. “There’s a shelter not too far away that has night staff. They uh, they’ve come to learn that Daredevil likes to bring by strays.”

You openly gaped at his admission as he ran a hand through his hair, attempting to fix it. You’d had no idea he did that when he was out stopping criminals. The knowledge of it only made you love him more.

“We can probably bring this one there,” he said, gesturing a hand at the cat you were holding. “If they’re full, I know they have other shelters or fosters they can get in contact with.”

Your eyes dropped down to the light gray cat that was clinging to you. It’s head rose up, bright green eyes meeting your own. The cat gave a soft mew that had you hesitating, your fingers beginning to scratch behind its ears. 

“What if…we don’t do that?” you asked him slowly.

Matt’s head tilted to the side, his covered gaze fixed on you. “What do you mean?” he asked back. “What else would we do?”

Eyes dropping back down to the cat, you saw it had closed its eyes. If you listened closely, you could hear the cat faintly purring as you continued to scratch behind its ears.

“I mean,” you began carefully, “what if we…kept it?”

“You–you want to keep it?” he asked in shock.

“Well, we should definitely make sure no one’s missing a cat first,” you explained quickly. “You know, see if this guy–or girl–is chipped and call up some places to see if anyone is missing a cat that fits the description. Do all the responsible things first. But…” you trailed off, eyes slowly focusing back on Matt’s face which was still twisted up in a look of surprise. “What if we kept it?” you asked softly.

“A cat?” Matt asked. “You want to have a cat?”

“I want us to have a cat,” you corrected him. “She–or he–could keep me company when you’re out at night. And I don’t really feel right leaving them at a shelter. I mean, you found them after all, Matt–in a dumpster no less. I feel like it's fate.”

You could see the faint twitch of Matt’s lips before a smile slowly drew them upwards at the corners. He took a step forward, one hand reaching out towards your face. His fingers affectionately traced the length of your jaw as he stood there silently for a moment, contemplating what you were asking. It felt like a long while before he finally spoke.

“I think you have a soft spot for loving unwanted strays, sweetheart,” Matt murmured fondly.

You couldn’t fight the grin that spread onto your face at his words. “It only makes me want them even more if they’re found in a dumpster,” you teased back. 

Matt laughed, the corners of his eyes creasing just past his dark glasses. His hand slipped down from your jaw until his fingers lightly brushed over the cat. The cat only relaxed further in your arms as Matt began to gently pet it.

“Alright,” he said after a moment. “If this cat really does need a home and you want it, then…I suppose we’ve just found ourselves a cat.”

You squealed in delight, focusing back down on the animal in your arms. “You hear that?” you asked the cat, its green eyes once again meeting yours. “You’re coming home with us. And I’m going to fatten you up and find you a name.”

“Okay, okay,” Matt said with a laugh, waving a hand. “Let’s hold off on the name until we know they don’t actually belong to anyone first. I don’t need you getting attached and getting upset if we have to give it up.”

Leaning down towards the cat, you whispered into its ear, “Don’t worry, he’ll fall in love with you, too. Just watch.”

[END NOTES]

They've got a cat!! I know many of you have been wanting this moment to happen and I always had it in my mind that Matt would be the one to find the cat in a dumpster and he wouldn't necessarily want to keep it--but just you wait. Matt and cat are going to be adorable. I have a whole list of ideas of things I want to explore with these two and Matt's senses when it comes to a cat that I've slowly been adding to for a month now. I'm thinking you'll see more of Matt and cat next because I think I'll make the next installment "The Stray" which I know was a suggested title from way back. I'm considering making it a Matt POV where he stays home with the cat while Reader runs out to buy cat supplies and he tries to bond with the cat.

I'll be getting interactive later today asking for cat name suggestions yet again. I'm hoping to find something that Matt and Reader would name the cat--so something related to Daredevil, Matt's father, or FFTD in general. For example, Matt loves trail mix, but that is a terrible name for a cat. So far I know I've been suggested Mittens (for boxing glove mitts) and Scarlet (because of Matt's suit being red) and I love those. I'm thinking I'll probably make a poll if there's enough for me to boil them down to and let y'all vote on it. Y'all know I love getting interactive! But I'll make a post for that later today or tomorrow so I don't ruin the surprise for everyone else.

[asmo-d3us]

angsty & regulus’ death || the letter sirius received from his brother || part 2 of 8

~*~*~*~*~*~*

~*Sirius Black*~

“Drink the tea, darling, it’ll help with the headache.” Euphemia cooed, bringing over a cup of Chamomile tea and placing it in front of her second son. Sirius thanked her with a nod, picking up the cup and bringing it to his chapped lips. James hasn’t been talking to him ever since what happened with Regulus, so because of the cold shoulder he had been getting, he had packed his bags and went to Effie’s and Monty’s house. This had given him some very unwelcome nostalgia and deja-vu.

He chugged the cup in three gulps—to Euphemia’s dismay—and placed the teacup back on its saucer. He placed his head in his left hand, the other fiddling with the handle of the cup. He hadn’t spoken to Remus in a while, it made him realize how much he missed his boyfriend. He nearly smiled at the thought, but then remembered his brother, and he frowned again.

He had a pile of letters sent from Regulus, and Sirius being the stubborn mule he is, he hadn’t read any of them. Remus had told him he must one day, and sadly—Sirius knows this. His relationship with his brother hadn’t been good, not at all, and he wishes his stupidity hadn’t brought them here, yet it did. And it was too late to change that. But was it actually? Maybe he would have the chance to reconnect with his brother. The chances were slim, but not impossible.

He continued fiddling with the empty cup, closing his eyes as the pain in his temples slowly began to fade away. The feeling of the war going on had numbed him. He can’t feel anything now-a-days.

Sirius’ eyes snapped open when hearing a loud thump. He lifted his head, and saw that his now-empty cup had been replaced with a letter. It was upside down, so Sirius didn’t manage to see the address. Monty sat down next to him at the circle shaped table with a huff, ruffling the newspaper in his hands and sliding his glasses down his forehead and onto his nose.

“Who’s it from?” He asked, his eyes not leaving The Daily Prophet. “That owl wouldn’t leave me alone until I untied it.” Sirius sniffled (it was cold in the house—it made him uneasy), and shrugged sluggishly, “No clue. I’ll read it later.” It’s most likely from Regulus. Those words were left unspoken.

Euphemia placed herself gracefully on the other side of Sirius, her own cup of tea in her hands. She smiled at him, and he couldn’t resist smiling back. “Is your head better, dearie?” She hummed, grabbing his hand and rubbing her thumb on his skin in a motherly fashion. It brought him comfort, yet the feeling would always be replaced with guilt after remembering Regulus.

Somehow, maybe it was because of her motherly instincts, Sirius had no clue, she sensed his thoughts. Her gaze wandered down to the upside down letter, and she sipped from her cup, her warm touch still on his hand, and he let her. Effie kicked Monty’s leg under the table and he yelped, dropping the paper from his hands. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he grinned at her sheepishly. Sirius watched this exchange.

She beckoned her head towards Sirius, staring into her husband’s eyes, and he immediately understood. You see, Sirius always craved the advice from a father figure and the love from a mother figure, and both parents had been using this fact to make sure Sirius was more comfortable and more open with them. Monty’s eyes widened with realization and he nodded before grabbing his paper again and leaning back against his seat, a serious expression slipping onto his face, and Sirius barely held back his laughter, his head still in his hand.

“Son, why don’t you read those letters? I’m sure your body will allow some form of worry to let go. And hey, maybe you could reply back to him.” Fleamont spoke smartly, his eyes staring into Sirius’, though instead of Orion’s deadly and disappointed glare, it was a soft and caring one. Sirius sniffed again, and this time he didn’t know if it was from the cold or from uprising emotions in him.

“Darling, perhaps you should! It’ll be good for you.” Effie hummed, having finished her tea. Sirius shrugged, now placing his head in both his hands and rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “I d’know, i’m scared.” He mumbled, and there was silence. He thought that perhaps they had left, or he had annoyed them, but all of a sudden he felt a warm embrace. It was Euphemia.

He felt a few warm tears slip down his cheeks, and he didn’t swipe them away. He let himself be engulfed in the parental hug he so desperately needed, and right when she pulled away she placed her hands on his shoulders. “Go read those letters, they might be from James, or from Remus.” She teased, and Sirius blushed with a laugh, thanking her for not mentioning who it most likely was.

He stood up, smiling when Effie slid in his former seat and right next to her husband. Monty smiled at him and with one nudge of his head, Sirius turned around with the letter in hand, and walked to his room. He closed the door behind him, and sat down on his bed. He stared down at the letter, and hesitantly flipped it around, expecting it to be perhaps James with an apology, but he froze. Was it from his parents instead? It was their address, but the writing…this was definitely from Regulus.

He shuddered, gripped onto the all-too-familiar green wax and tore open the envelope. Pulling out the paper inside, he noticed the dried splotches of tears on the letter, and his ‘protective brother’ act immediately flipped to the on button. His brows furrowed as he unfolded the letter with a sharp inhale of breath, and he read.

______________________

08/01/79

To my protector,

If you have received this letter, I am dead. I have told Kreacher to send out all of my letters if I don’t make it back. In all honesty, I always knew I wouldn’t make it back, but I foolishly kept my hopes up. I kept my hopes up that if I went on just a day longer, things would change. But they didn’t. To make sure you read this letter, even if you neglect all the others, I have sent an owl to accompany it and bring it to the receiver.

I will never forget the bond we had as kids, and I hope you never forget them either. I’m sorry that things have turned out this way, and I apologize for not being a brother like James. apologize for not being the little sister you had, and for wishing to be a man. Yet at the end of the day, you have chosen James. I don’t blame you, Sirius. James is an amazing person, and he’s a better choice than I would ever be.

Do you remember when we were kids, we broke our mother’s vase? I remember I was the one that broke it, not you, yet you protected me from the wrath of our mother. You knew she would’ve Crucio’d you, yet you protected me anyway. Because that’s just what you do, Sirius, you protect and that’s the way you love. That’s what I love most about you.

I forgive you for leaving me. Normally, I would never tell a single soul that I forgive you, that I send you letters, that I still love you, but considering my corpse will be underwater, there’s no reason to keep up my facade. I know my death will impact you strongly, because I know without a doubt that you still do love me.

Sirius, please don’t go too hard on James, nothing is his fault. I was the one who had made the first move, and it’s not that I was playing him no not at all, I loved him Siri. I loved him so much, and I always will. I’ll always be in love with him. He was my soulmate. I know that he’s still in love with Lily, and I hope they get together and continue their family line, filled with love. It’ll hurt seeing them together, but the pain will go away eventually.

I guess I should come clean about everything, should I? In our years at Hogwarts, I had joined Remus’ and Lily’s study group, and we had become close friends. I never admitted that I liked being with Lily, but now I will. I understand why James loves her, because I caught myself loving her too.

I have just one request Sirius, don’t judge anyone else for the house they’re put in. And when you see my friends in public anytime, respect them as they respect you. That’s my only wish before I die. I want to see the people I love most showing respect to each other in some way or another.

Never forget who I was, and never forget what I have tried to do. I am not on the Dark Lord’s side, nor am I alongside The Order. I am my own person, with separate beliefs. They’re both bad guys, Sirius. I have a feeling it won’t be long before I see you again after death.

I love you, brother. Maybe in another life we’ll be able to grow old together with the love of our lives. Maybe in another life we’ll understand each other, and there won’t be any stereotypes placed smack-dab in the middle of our foreheads. I face death with the hope that you will all live a long and healthy life, and if not, I fill myself with yet another foolish hope that when we all die, we’ll be reunited.

Tell our story brother, and don’t be ashamed.

R.A.B

______________________

He rose up from his bed, expression like stone but his eyes filled with the gaze of agony. His brother was dead. That’s it. His brother is fucking dead.

He held back his broken cries, stormed over to his closet, and began to rummage around for his luggage. When finding it, he placed it on his bed, opened it with two soft clicks, and began shoving random clothes into it. Euphemia barged into the room without a knock, having heard the ruckus and wanting to see if everything was alright. “Sirius?” She hesitated, staring at him as he ran back and forth around the room, stuffing a shoe in his bag and leaving the other pair in the closet.

“Sirius!” She yelled with an exasperated tone, crossing her arms. “Yes?” Sirius replied, his voice dry and cracking with held back tears. Almost immediately, her eyes softened and she uncrossed her arms. “Oh darling, what happened?”

“THIS!” He roared, his eyes welling up with burning hot tears, and his heart shattering by the second. He shoved the letter in her hands and continued packing. “This.” He mumbled, disbelievingly.

Her eyes surveyed the letter, and her gaze changed from confusion to shock, and then she was suddenly crying. Sirius couldn’t handle seeing her cry. “Oh!” She sobbed, approaching Sirius and wrapping him in her arms. He shut his eyes, not hugging her back. “Oh, I’m so sorry love, I’m so sorry poor boy!”

He sniffled, managing to hold back the volcano of tears waiting to burst. He pulled away from her, going back to packing but this time he did it calmly. “Is there anything I can do for you? Where are you going?”

“James.” He spoke, his nose clogged. Effie nodded her head, patting his back, “is there anything you need at all?”

He stopped, not facing her. “I want to be left alone.” He spoke after a few moments, and she nodded, stepping out of the room. Sirius heard her sobbing to Monty as his voice began to raise with concern and shock. They loved Regulus, so much. He continued packing, and finally closed his luggage, walking out of his room and down the hall, ignoring the calls of Fleamont, and fleeing out of the house.

Halfway through his walk, he realized that he could’ve taken the floo, but it didn’t matter now did it? His brother was dead. He shouldn’t be complaining about a 30 minute walk. His brother is dead. The disbelief was still there.

He knew exactly why he was going to James’ house and not Remus’. It was because 1, it was his house too and 2, James had a history with Regulus, and Sirius wonders if he received a letter too. He’s pretty sure he did.

Finally reaching the house, he noticed the lights were on, and he wondered what sight would be awaiting him when the door opened. He harshly banged his fists against the wood, feeling his heart’s rapid pumping accelerate. The door finally swung open, and he was greeted with the sight of a tired James, freshly cried, eyes puffy, lips bleeding and chapped, weak and stumbling, and Sirius didn’t know if it was from what he had just seen or from keeping in his emotions for so long, but he broke.

He let out a choked sob, taking a step forward and falling apart in James’ hands. Their grips were strong against each other, trying to keep each other steady, but it wasn’t really working. He could tell James was holding himself back, and it made Sirius feel like shit. Feel like shit that James can’t even cry in front of him when his boyfriend is dead. Or, well, his ex-boyfriend thanks to Sirius himself.

“Let it out Prongs, I know it hurts.” He mumbled, hiccuping in his cries. James let out a gasp of air, and then he began to cry. They hugged each other, the grief and the pain in their souls intertwining into one. It was so cold. And Sirius knew it wasn’t from the weather.

After a while of crying and hugging, Sirius spoke, “Di-did you get a letter t-too?” He cringed at his stutter, keeping his eyes closed because he couldn’t really face reality at the moment. He felt James’ slow nod into his black hair (the height difference always bothered him) and the confirmation of what he had been thinking caused another wave of salty droplets to flow out of the tear-ducts in his eyes. They embraced tighter.

Sirius’ knees seemed to buckle, both of the boys falling down to the floor. They didn’t mind. The floor was cold, stable, it felt no different than the state of their hearts. The ravenette will admit, while hugging James he did imagine it was his brother. It was a bit therapeutic actually. It helped, because he knew Regulus had hugged James’ body before. Many times.

They eventually sat down on the couch, still huddled together, and exchanged letters. Seeing the true way Regulus loved James was gut-wrenching enough that the grief, the torture, and the loss made their way inside of his soul for the remainder of his life. It made its little home there, in the dark crevices of Sirius’ spirit. Then—so suddenly and yet so loudly—there was another avalanche of loud knocks against the door.

13 years later, Sirius Black was ashamed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

[scuttlingcrab]

The Great Hunt

An Absolute Waste of Time

Summary: Raphael is MAD. So full of rage and malice he is about to burn down the entire Sword Coast before the Mind Flayers even arrive. What could possibly get the Devil's knickers in such a twist? Tav, oh that cheeky little mouse, sold the Orphic Hammer. And for what? Gold, of all things.

In this second instalment, Raphael tears through Baldur's Gate, from the Circus of the Last days to the Blushing Mermaid, trying to locate it.

He has never stooped so low…

Check out PART 01: In Search of a Hammer here!

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

(Image via red-dead-sakharine)

The Devil stood in an alleyway across from the Beehive General Goods, feasting his eyes on the flames as they devoured that worthless shop whole. The building was destroyed faster than thought, leaving nothing left but a lump of charred scraps. That didn’t stop a throng of mortals from gathering; just like maggots infesting a corpse, they quickly exchanged gossip in a hushed buzz, chewing over theories as to what could’ve possibly caused such a tragedy. 

Muffled squeaks came from below Raphael, the noise grating against his ears. He gazed towards the sound, sending a stabbing look at the creature responsible for creating such an annoying racket. A large rat was confined in a jar, frantically clawing its glass prison in an attempt to escape. Raphael’s smile held a touch of mockery as he picked it up, rocking it only just to cause the rat to fall over. 

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson, my dear Oliver.” Raphael whispered, bringing the glass closer to his mouth. He hissed at the rat, briefly showcasing his Devilish fangs before concealing them again. “The next time someone calls upon you, asking for a particular item, it would be in your best interest to show them the utmost respect. That is, if you’ll ever be fortunate enough to walk this earth on two legs again.”

The rat’s beady eyes widened as it recoiled, finding no means of escaping Raphael’s scathing glare. Instead the creature screeched in terror and began running around in circles. Pathetic. Raphael halfheartedly discarded the jar, throwing it over his shoulder as he walked deeper into the alley, further removing himself from the growing chaos in the streets. 

As cathartic as it was admiring his work, and torturing that insufferable shop owner, it would get him nowhere. Time waits for no man, or Devil, and Raphael had to act quickly if he was ever going to succeed in his plights to unite the Hells. 

Raphael nearly shattered Oliver Tefoco’s soul into a million pieces, threatening to simmer his corpse in a cauldron and make jam of his remains. He would sooner have fed that to a stray dog than let his tongue touch such filth, but Oliver was none the wiser. All this effort just to extract what was needed from that worthless creature. The whereabouts of the Orphic Hammer. He got his answer, eventually. These maddening mortals would be the death of him, they had no ounce of intellect, no common sense, throwing around an item as valuable as the Hammer like it was yesterday’s trash.  

The Devil stopped abruptly, resting his hand against his hip. His chest tightened, his breathing growing more erratic as his heart began to convulse. No. His fingers burned, the tips pulsing red, on the verge of erupting into Hellfire at any moment.

Raphael needed to restrain his temper. After all, he was saving it for one person in particular, the very mortal who deserved all his wrath, and all the pain and suffering that would soon come raining down upon them. Tav. The sole fool responsible for these recent inconveniences and his current rampage through Baldur’s Gate. If they hadn’t so gleefully sold the Orphic Hammer for gold, Raphael would be sitting comfortably in his best silks, sampling his most decadent wines, and waiting for the final battle to begin. It’s that same little shit who had somehow lodged themselves straight into his head, becoming his very own parasite. Any other unfortunate mortals who just so happened to get caught in his fiery rage were merely collateral. They could all burn, turn to ash, for all he cared. He wouldn’t stop until he had the Hammer and his Crown.

Snap!

A fiery gateway appeared before him and he stomped through towards his next destination: The Circus of the Last Days. 

--

Popper the Kobold was having the very best day of his entire life. Well, maybe that wasn’t true, he’s had plenty of good days, he could count them all on one hand. Wait, no both hands. He was sure he had more good days than this. To be honest, he couldn’t remember much of what happened yesterday. He was too focused on the juicy prize in front of him as he dragged a fresh corpse through the Circus of the Last Days, leaving a trail of blood behind him. 

He just couldn’t believe his luck, like earlier, buying that hammer for practically nothing! His very first hammer too! What a deal. It was the biggest, prettiest hammer he had ever seen, the top reminded him of blood, tasty blood, that’s why he liked it so much. And it sparkled like a diamond. He was really looking forward to smashing things with it, lots of different things, but then he found that corpse. Oh, yes. Nothing was better than a fresh body stuffed with loot. He practically skipped all the way back to the Circus as he hauled it, so chuffed with his little ol’ self for making such a swap. Probably his bestest swap ever! 

Popper swatted away all the nasty looks from the humans as he pushed through the crowd at the Circus’ entrance. They all stared at him like they knew the dead person he was holding. He even made a few of those smaller, weaker humans cry and run away, but he paid them no mind. Maybe they’ve never seen such a delicious snack before. Maybe they were jealous… that’s right, jealous! He better get straight to business then, the sooner he could pull that body apart, the faster he’d be left alone. It would be no good, absolutely no good, if Lucretious noticed he brought another corpse to the Circus. They’d steal it, just like the others! And experiment on it with their dirty magic. This was his corpse! His! He’d show them!

The Kobold finally reached his tent and threw the corpse in the centre of his living space, quickly scurrying to a large crate stuffed in the back, near the privies. He dug through the crate, packed with all his very favourite toys, pulling out random scissors, broken knives, and even a few odd bits of monster parts, things he definitely forgot were in there… until he finally found it: a large rusted cleaver. It was covered in a thick layer of grime. It had seen lots and lots of bodies, yes it had!

“This is most perfect!” Popper explained, to nobody but himself.

Whack, whack, thump, whack. 

He immediately began slicing at the corpse, hacking off limbs in no particular order or with any care, licking his lips as he pulled apart an arm and ripped up a leg. Before long, he got himself into a rhythm, chopping faster as his stomach growled with excitement. Oh, the treatos he would have!

Popper was nearly finished too, until he stopped, unexpectedly distracted. He scrunched his snout, tilting his head up high as he smelled the air around him. He stuck his tongue out, licking the air like it was an icy treat. Something smelled like burning and tasted rotten, like the Hells. 

Screaming came from the crowd near the stage as Popper watched a thick coat of smoke rise into the air like a huge balloon.

“Maybe they’s be adding some new magics? Or… they’s really be loving Dribbles’ new replacement?” Popper whispered, nodding to himself. He was ready to start again, but he noticed something else, something weird coming towards him.

A tall man, dressed real fancy like, definitely not in normal people's clothes, pushed through the other humans; not even saying ‘scuse me as he did so. The ground at his feet turned black as he came towards him. Oh, this man was mad. His face was all scrunched up, his mouth curling in all sorts of directions. Maybe he ate something that didn’t agree with him? But the oddest thing of all, this man was staring directly at Popper! Giving him a creepy look, meaner than anything he’d ever seen, even from Lucretius. 

“You!” The man shouted, his voice shot through the air like an arrow, making Popper drop his cleaver. 

“Y-you come for me? You must be wanting my treatos!” 

The man was very tall, casting a long shadow over Popper. The Kobold nearly fell over looking up at him. 

“Oooh! You is casting some real fancy magics.” Popper pointed at the ground as flames appeared at the man’s feet, like he was standing in the middle of a campfire. “You is the most perfects human for the stage, sirs, has you—“

“Treato…?” The man began, his face getting more twisted, just like the roots of a tree. Actually, the more Popper stared at the man, the more he realised his eyes were the scariest, most terrifying things he had ever seen. There was definitely fire in those black eyes.

“Uh… yes? Duh! Treatos. I have lots. Is that not why you’s are here? Popper only has the bestest treatos, yes sirs. And magics. If you has any—“

“If I cracked open your skull…” the man continued, “what would I find inside? Hmm? Oh, I know. There would be no brain, that’s for certain. If there was anything, I would imagine it to be the size of a grain of rice. Undetectable to even the most skilled physicians.”

“Yous what? Take your fancy smelly clothes and eat shit, you human bastard! I has the biggest brain and I is…”

Popper had a poor temper. He always got in a lot of trouble for snapping at customers if they said certain things to him. Once or twice, well maybe more than that, he bit someone’s hand clean off. And another time, he nibbled at an elf's toes. All because they said his treatos were mouldy! Nobody makes fun of Popper. Their toes didn’t taste any better. He hasn’t done that for a while though. Lucretious would fire him right out. And he needed this job. But boy, did Popper want to bite this man. Real good. 

The man pointed his long fingers at Popper and he noticed the man’s skin was red, just like his, and he had long black fingernails. All of a sudden, Popper wasn’t very hungry anymore. 

“You will cease this stupidity at once.” The man’s voice was low, as if a growl. “I have wasted enough time already. So we will cut to the chase. Heed carefully what I say, you flaming imbecile. And you will answer me plainly. Else I will take you far away from here and slowly pick your worthless body apart, scale by scale, until nothing remains.”

Popper gulped, his tail curling between his legs. The only thing he could do was nod back at this man, who really wasn’t much of a man, the more Popper thought about it. 

“Good.” The man said, placing his hands on his hips. “Where is my hammer? I know you have it. I spent the last hour torturing a man only for him to cry out your name repeatedly.” There was a long pause as Popper stared up at the man, unsure what to say, confused as to why this man would be torturing anyone, let alone looking for a hammer. “Do I need to spell it out? Perhaps I need to use a simpler language for the likes of you.” 

The man leaned down, within inches of Popper’s face.

“Oh… Oh!” Popper raised his finger in the air as he just realised something. “I in fact, once had a hammer. But not for very long, you sees, it just so happens…” 

Popper continued to tell the man how he came to find the hammer, the one matching his exact description, which Popper found very funny. What were the odds! But he stopped laughing when the man glared at him again, showing some sharp teeth when he grinned. Which wasn’t very gentlemanly. 

At that moment, the Kobold wished he still had that hammer. So this man could go away and he could go back to doing other stuff. Like thinking about what he was going to eat for supper. Actually, the more Popper thought about it… that corpse probably wasn’t worth it. This was turning out to be too much trouble. Maybe it wasn’t his lucky day after all. He even found himself wanting to apologise for all the times he ever wished terrible things on Lucretius. 

They weren’t so bad. Or scary.

Not at all. 

--

Raphael despised the Circus of the Last Days. It was a vile place. Absolutely vile, the lot of it. He couldn’t fathom these mortal buffoons parading around and calling themselves enterainters. And the worst part of all? The clowns. They were a mockery of the stage and its true purpose. There was no art in what they claimed to achieve. He hoped a few of them might perish in the day’s ahead. And by no means a quick death either. Something excruciatingly slow and agonising. Like roasting their bodies over a spit of Hellfire, a thousand times over.

These raging thoughts grew bloodier, more gruesome as he moved on, going from one location to the next. He was certain his heart could sink no further, but he was quickly mistaken as his search for the Orphic Hammer proved to be never-ending. Somehow, the damned thing kept evading him, always missing it by mere moments as it was handed on to the next moron who decided to gamble with their fate. Raphael’s anxiety grew worse, wrapping around him like the tendrils of a Mind Flayer; squeezing his limbs, crawling up his neck as he progressively found it harder to breathe, to concentrate. 

Of course Raphael had no issues getting what he wanted from Popper. But that itself came at a cost. Raphael had received too much information, practically hearing that creature’s entire life story. No detail was spared. It would forever be ingrained in Raphael’s memory, the monotony, the stupidity, of it all. 

In the end, Popper had met a band of mercenaries and traded the Hammer for a corpse. A putrid corpse. Raphael eventually tracked them down, the group lurking about some caves near the Lower City like a bunch of thieves. But did they have the Hammer? Of. Course. Not. It couldn’t have been that easy. They had lost it. Naturally. In the sewers, of all places, abandoning it after they came across some wizard. Or so they said. He was very much looking forward to meeting this ‘supposed’ wizard. Before Raphael left the mercenaries to their business, he viciously snapped his fingers, causing all their precious loot to melt away at their fingertips. The ones who had it on hand screamed in agony as the gold, the necklaces, even some of their armour and swords, merged with their flesh. Served them right.

“Bah!” Raphael screamed, his voice echoing off the slimy sewer walls. When the sound faded, the only thing he could hear was the continuous dripping of water as it leaked from the decaying ceilings above him. 

Raphael was lost, wandering the sewer system beneath Baldur’s Gate for what felt like days, years even. His boots were soiled, completely ruined. He was covered in filth up to his knees as he trudged through the cesspool. He would certainly be burning this entire outfit when he was through. No spell or potion would be able to cause these rancid smells to disappear. A shame, really. This was one of his favourite doublets. 

As he manoeuvred his way through the snaking, narrow pipes, he made a mental note to revise Tav’s current contract; adding in an additional clause, or perhaps two, for every minute he spent searching for the Hammer, and for the ruination of his wardrobe. 

The stench of the sewers progressively worsened as Raphal entered a large chamber, the excrement somehow smelling more bitter. He took a step forward and nearly slipped, holding onto the crate next to him to avoid falling face first in the muck. He looked down, only to discover he was stepping in grease. 

“I will wring their sorry, little, pathetic neck!” Raphael cursed, steadying himself as he began to take careful, calculated steps through the rest of the chamber.

“What’s this cousin?” A squeaky voice spoke as a Drow appeared from behind a corner, revealing themselves rather flamboyantly. He was dripping in the same greasy substance that covered the floor, and surrounded by what seemed like an army of grease elementals and mephits. 

The Drow pointed at Raphael, “Ah! It is but another Absolutist, come to see what we–” 

Raphael took one look at the Drow and rolled his eyes. 

Snap!

The entire room instantly turned into an inferno, every creature within the vicinity of the grease was consumed by flames. Their screams lost against the raging fire. Raphael didn’t even know who that Drow was, nor did he care. There was no more time for talking. 

He continued through the extensive network of sewage pipes, navigating every underground hallway, tearing apart every room as he dug through boxes and discarded chests, but he found no Hammer.

He eventually stumbled upon a man standing alone in a hallway. The mortal was dressed in plain armour, his face riddled with all sorts of interesting scars. Perhaps at another time he would've loved to pry open that mortal and find out how he got those marks. There was no one else around him, and he simply stared at Raphael, with absolutely no care in the world. 

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen an Orphic Hammer floating around this cesspit? Hmm?” Raphael said as he approached the man, standing in front of him. 

The man held Raphael’s gaze, but he did not respond.

Raphael gritted his teeth, his fists trembling as he raised one hand in the air, preparing his thumb and middle finger for this man’s immediate extermination. The Devil was emotionally exhausted; the weight of it all, his infernal obligations, his hopes, his doomed destiny… it threatened his strength, his resolve. If he sat down, slumping against the grimy walls of the sewer, he would fall into a deep sleep from which he might never awaken. Hammer or not, this charade needed to end, this unfortunate act was going on for far too long. Raphael almost wanted to applaud the entire situation, for whoever was behind the scenes orchestrating his madness. His despair. How many more mortals would he need to obliterate before he found the Hammer? If he found it at all? Flames appeared at his fingertips as he held the pose, his anger building. The mysterious man didn’t even blink.

“Raphael?” Spoke a familiar, low voice. “I never thought I’d see you here.”

He twirled around at the mention of his name, only to find Mol staring at him from the opposite end of the hallway. Her eyes were wide, eyebrows raised as she gaped at him in confusion, holding a small dagger in her hands. 

“A most welcoming sight indeed.” Raphael dropped the flames, clapping his hands together with relief as his temper cooled. 

Mol grinned, sheathing her dagger. 

“That one doesn’t talk, by the way. Which is really annoying, if you ask me.” There was a brief pause as Mol eyed Raphael up and down, “Say, what are you even doing down here? I heard a HUGE explosion and came running out of the Guild. Thought it might’ve been, you know… the end of the world.” Mol spoke the last few words in a hushed whisper. 

A tiny sliver of hope fluttered in Raphael’s heart as he looked down at Mol, she could be the one who got Raphael out of this mess. The Tiefling could have the answers, a lead, something! She was resourceful, had her eyes and ears all over the city. There was a reason he had secured a deal with her in the first place. Mol's soul was one thing, but she had potential, promise, he never doubted her for a second.  

“As much as I’d love to catch-up with my budding protégé, I must act swiftly. I have no time for pleasantries, I’m afraid. I do have but a small favour to ask of you, however.”

Mol’s eyes lit up like fireflies. 

“Anything!” 

Raphael leaned towards Mol, his face growing serious.

“My Orphic Hammer is missing. You know the one. I’ve seen you snooping about my archives, flipping audaciously through some restricted documents.” 

Mol’s cheeks turned red and her eyebrows raised, only for a moment, but she did not look away from Raphael. She was guilty, yes, but not ashamed. A valiant trait.

“Nothing escapes me, but if it was anyone else and I’d have incinerated them on the spot. Now, please, do you know where it could be? Have you heard anything that might be useful? Time, my dear Mol, as you know, is of the essence.” 

“Hmm…” Mol bit her lip, her forehead wrinkling as she thought long and hard.  

“No, I’m sorry Raphael.” 

Raphael deflated into himself, burying his face in his hands. The disappointment was crippling. His skin caught fire without warning as he began to change into his cambion form. His doubts, those treacherous thoughts of failure, crashed down on him from every direction. He massaged his temples, attempting to keep himself calm, collected, especially in front of Mol.

“But… and you might find this interesting, actually…” Mol continued and Raphael stopped short, mid transformation. Devilish horns peeked out of his mortal head, a tail sprouting from his back, but the rest of his human proportions were otherwise the same. “I’ve heard there’s rumblings of a big trade happening at the Blushing Mermaid, and I mean BIG. You might want to stop by. That’s the only thing I could think of. I wish–”

Raphael quickly cleared his throat, rectifying his appearance as he slid back into his mortal disguise. He straightened his posture, smoothing his doublet and trying not to grimace at the filth that still clung to it.

He placed his hand on Mol’s shoulder, giving it an appreciative squeeze in good measure.

“There is a reason I decided to be your mentor, Mol. I knew you’d never disappoint.”

Raphael giddily clapped his hands and a gateway appeared behind him, leading directly to the Blushing Mermaid’s interior. 

“Mol, might I suggest you find a suitable safe house for the time being. These rumblings are only going to get worse. You were right in your thinking earlier, the end is near. It would indeed dampen my spirits to find your soul waiting for me upon my return, or to perhaps learn that you’ve been turned into an Illithid. Prepare yourself, and I will meet you when this business is concluded.”

“Yes, boss!” 

Mol gave Raphael an enthusiastic salute, befitting of an experienced general. That gesture alone made him beam with pride. 

This mentorship would prove to be a wise investment indeed. 

--

“Could you believe Fenris…?” Lissa muttered, resting her head on the table. It was sticky, everything was bloody sticky at the Blushing Mermaid. This place was a dump, but it was more affordable than the Elfsong. Especially on her wages. 

The gnome didn’t care though, all she wanted was for the world to stop spinning. She felt like she would retch up yesterday’s, today’s, and tomorrow’s breakfast at any second. She had too much to drink. Again. She should really stop taking up the bottle, she could only handle one drink with her figure, and she had drunk at least four so far today. It was all Vola's fault, that damned half-elf, she was a bad influence. 

“Dragging that… t-thing…” Lissa carried on, suppressing a burp, “What w-waas it again?” 

“Huh?” Vola groaned awake, her head lolling side-to-side as she tried to focus on Lissa. “Oh… you mean… t-that… hammer? It was a hammer, right? F-fucking huuuuuuge for a hammer, ha!”

“The hammer!” Lissa screamed, “y-yessss, the hammer.” 

Lissa and Vola stared at each other, then burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, slamming their fists on the table like a pair of monkeys.

“Gods, Fenris dragged that hideous thing through the dirt, c-couldn’t even l-lift it. Fell r-right on his f-fat faace.” Lissa struggled to lift her head, hitting it against the back of the booth they shared. She blinked slowly, barely able to keep her eyelids from falling shut. “Ne-never sseeen such a t-tthing in my life.”

Lissa reached too fast for the half-empty glass in front of her and caused it to topple over, the ale cascading in all directions. 

“Oooooops.” Lissa said, still laughing. 

“W-whaat a waste!” Vola proclaimed.  

Lissa turned towards the bar, raising her hand high in the air. She was about to call for the bartender when she noticed a very tall, and extremely handsome man standing at their booth. Oh he was a charming son of a bitch, with a smooth smile, and dark, pretty eyes. His clothes were a bit dirty though, but Lissa had seen worse. 

“Good afternoon, my esteemed drunkards.” The man said, his voice was rich, deep, and dreamy. 

“Would you allow me the pleasure of purchasing a drink for you both?”

“Free b-booze?” Lissa asked.

She looked to Vola for confirmation, but the half-elf was fast asleep, her mouth hanging open. Lissa kicked Vola under the table and she shot awake, her arms flailing in all sorts of directions. 

“Free b-boooooze.” Lissa whispered, tilting her head toward the man at the head of the booth.

“On me.” The man said with a wink. He smiled broadly, showcasing such white, beautiful teeth. 

The man did some sort of magic trick, conjuring sparks by snapping his fingers, or clapping his hands… Whichever it was, he caused two massive glasses of ale to appear on the table.

“W-wooooow.” Lissa and Vola muttered in unison. 

The man slid into the booth, edging closer to Lissa. She sniffed the air, smelling all sorts of lovely, new things. Cherries, and a yummy flowery smell. She ignored the sudden stench of the sewers though, convinced it was from the Blushing Mermaid.

Oh she didn’t want this man to ever leave. 

“I’m very curious about this hammer you’ve been discussing.” The man said, his eyes locking with Lissa’s. “Please, tell me all about it…”

--

The Devil watched over a mortal man as he slept soundlessly in a small bed, his protruding belly slowly rising with each staggered breath. His snores rattled the very walls of Flaygo’s Flophouse, but Raphael paid no attention to the irksome noise around him. His eyes were focused on the Orphic Hammer the man clung to in his slumber, holding it tightly like he was but a babe in a crib.

The sun had already begun its descent, a purple glow leaking in from the open window. He could see the entranceway of Sharess’ Caress from his vantage point in the cramped room; the brothel was as busy as ever, despite him setting the Devil’s Den ablaze mere hours ago. Raphael let out a long, exasperated sigh at that thought alone. An entire day gone to waste, when the Hammer was under his nose this entire time. Fate was cruel, the weaves unpredictable, no matter how hard he tried to control them. 

Raphael couldn’t pull his eyes away from the Hammer, he dared not to. It could be an illusion for all he knew, vanish the moment he reached for it. 

The man turned over in the bed, taking the Orphic Hammer with him as he shifted, groaning in his sleep. 

“Oh, I do hope you’re having a pleasant dream.” Raphael whispered, taking a step closer. 

Raphael was within inches of the man now, so close he could smell the booze reeking from his breath. As he extended his hand towards the Hammer he paused, beginning to chuckle. It started slowly, but grew more ferocious as every second passed, until he was nearly on his knees, roaring with laughter. Fire spurted from Raphael’s mouth like a forge as he wheezed, unable to control his breath, to contain himself any longer. Tears formed out of the corner of his eyes, flooding down his cheeks. They evaporated as soon as they met his scorching skin. Despite Raphael’s raucousness, the man remained undisturbed. 

The Devil had seen it all, tortured just about every miserable soul from the Outer Plane to the Elemental, but he never thought he’d see, let alone experience, anything like this. A lowly creature, clutching on to the future of mortal-kind. A tale worthy of the bards. 

Suddenly, the earth shuddered violently, as if waking up from its own slumber. Paintings flew off the walls, bookshelves toppled over, and the room vibrated continuously as the quake worsened. Mortals screamed from the streets below as some of the buildings in Wyrm's Crossing began to topple from the earth’s constant movements.

Raphael swiftly collected himself, shaking away any remaining bouts of laughter. He clapped his hands to rid his outfit of any evidence from the day's plights. When he was satisfied with his appearance, and found no speck of dirt or grime left, he snapped his fingers, and the Hammer flew into his hands. He squeezed its hilt until his knuckles turned white, feeling the weight of the Hammer in his hands. 

Showtime. 

A reckoning was coming and not the one Tav might’ve expected.

To be continued…

[lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie]

Merry Christmas, Janus

Summary: After the gift exchange, Janus returns to the Dark Side of the Mindpalace to relax and reflect. As he picks up his new socks, he finds a second gift from Roman…maybe he really should have laid off of the wine.

Pairings: None, background prinxiety if you squint

Warnings: WINE/ALCOHOL MENTION, NO COMFORT, I GUESS?

(A/N: So I'm posting this really, REALLY late because I had no energy to finish this but I finally do!)

When Logan had invited him and Remus to this year’s gift exchange with the whole Fam-ILY, Janus hadn’t expected things to go the way they did. Yes, he might have downed a few glasses as he refused to show up sober. He didn’t want to have to remember such a warm and soft event. He didn’t to have to hear all the sappy shit coming from those Light side dorks. Especially from Patton. Janus especially did NOT want to deal with Virgil and Roman while he was sober.

            Speaking of the prince, Janus finds himself glancing over at the Creative side. Roman was currently curled up on the couch with Virgil, babbling away as he showed the anxious side his twenty-dollar bill with his face on it. Virgil chuckled, lounging against Roman’s side, and saying something Janus could care less about. Though…something twists in Janus’ stomach as he watches the two of them get cozy, Roman wrapping an arm around Virgil who nuzzles him. Gross.

            Janus watches them a little longer before turning away. He finishes his remaining wine and makes the mug vanish as he tries to ignore his still throbbing cheek from the bitch-slap earlier. Yeah, he probably deserved it though. The lying side then glances at Roman and Virgil again, glancing away when Virgil suddenly glares at him. Janus doesn’t know when, but Virgil has been acting like the prince’s guard dog and hardly ever leaves his side. Huffing, Janus turns to Remus.

“Remus, get up. We’re going home.” Janus hisses.

Remus looks up from where he’s sitting on the floor with his air-fryer. Somehow, Remus has managed to put several substances and a stick of deodorant in it.

“Already?” he whines. “But I wanna stay! I’m making dinner!”

Janus cringes at the chunky slop in the air-fryer bucket.

“We already had dinner. You can bring that home and play with it all you want there.”

Remus pouts and unplugs his appliance, tucking the bucket back in.

“Boo, you’re no fun, you Scrooge.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to be here. It’s getting too sappy for my liking.”

“Fiiine.” Remus then turns to the rest of the room. “Hey, dorks! We’re dipping out. Snakey here is getting grouchy.”

Janus huffs.

“Thanksss, Remusss…” he hisses.

            After what felt like an hour of goodbyes, thank yous, and Christmas wishes as well as a good riddance from Roman and Virgil, Janus and Remus finally sank out and returned home. As soon as they popped up into the dark and cold common room, Janus beelined towards his office while Remus scurried off somewhere with the air-fryer. Janus didn’t care and entered his office, locking the door behind him. Usually, this is where he starts chugging a bottle of wine but for once he’s trying to sober up so he can sort out his mind. Maybe he’ll thank Roman for slapping him somewhat awake.

Roman…

Of all the sides…Roman had to be the one to have his name.

            Janus sighs and stares at the box on his desk. Despite everything he’d done to the prince, Roman still put in the effort to make his gift look nice. Roman was even thoughtful, giving him a gift he could make use of rather than giving him some fancy trinket. The snake side picks up the box and opens it. Luckily, the bitch-slap-in-a-box was a one-time thing. Setting the lid aside, Janus picks up the mustard yellow socks inside and gazes at them. Sure, they’re just socks and usually they’re not a gift you want to receive on Christmas, but part of Janus couldn’t be upset. Roman gave him an actual gift rather than just leaving him with nothing.

Trying to ignore his heavy thoughts, the deceitful side discards his gloves and runs his fingers over the fabric of the sock. They’re quite soft, much to his surprise. He at least expected it to be some god-awful fabric that would try to rip the scales off of his feet. Janus then picks up the other sock and feels it only to pause when he feels something crinkly in the sock. He winces and prays it’s not another prank from the prince. Bracing himself, Janus reaches in, and his fingertips pluck a folded and now crumpled piece of stationery. Of course. There in black ink and written in cursive is his own name. Oh. Janus then opens the paper, a very long and cursive message waiting inside.

Dear Sna  Dec  Janus,

            I apologize if my gift to you isn’t anything fancy. And I’m not talking about the bitch slap. Sorry for that by the way. I wasn’t going to do it at first but I thought it’d be funny. Honestly, I’m glad I got to see it in person. I really wanted to slap you, but I didn’t want to look like the jerk of all jerks. Again. Now, why am I writing this letter to you? Well…I have a lot to say to you and I don’t think you’d understand if I tried to say it in person. Despite your role, you’d never believe me. You’d probably think I was sucking up to our dear old dad or even Thomas. So, I’m doing it in letter form. Writing always helped me free my mind of the things I don’t want to think about.

            I just wanted to know, why do you hate me? Forgive me if you’re still bitter about the hat stealing and the name calling. Everything. To be truly honest, I had no idea what to do. When we were in the courtroom, everything was flipped outside down and all around. They said to trust you and then they said not to. When I tried to follow, they didn’t like it. Like I walked down the wrong path despite them giving me the map. Funny, isn’t it? Trying to do what you thought was right only to hurt yourself and someone else. That’s probably why you hate me.

            I suppose I should also apologize for my growing ego. Better it grew rather than let it fall apart and ruin Thomas, right? Then again, what do you care? I’m just a bumbling, arrogant prince who cares for no one but himself. Is that what you wanted to hear?

            I also miss you. When we were up on that stage and I had no clue you had taken Patton’s form, I had fun acting on stage and having, well, ‘you’ to direct me. It was fun and you seemed to like drama and theater. I had hoped we could work together again but now I’m scared I wouldn’t be able to tell when you’re acting and when you’re not. It’s a shame, really. After we were formally introduced, I thought we were friends. I wanted to be friends, believe me, but I���m scared. I don’t want you to lie to me again and make me believe you care. For Thomas’ sake I’m willing to be as civil as I can so we can work together but outside of that, I don’t think I’m ready to face you. Maybe in the future, we could talk but not right now. Not until I feel ready.

            I suppose I should end this letter now. If you’re still reading this, Janus, then thank you, I guess. Thank you for not trashing this letter. I mean, you can once you’re done reading if you want. You probably still don’t care. I’ll see you around the Mindpalace or something. Take care of Remus for me. He seems to like you more. I really wish we could’ve been friends. I hope you enjoy the rest of your Christmas evening. I mean, you won right? You beat the mighty prince and his massive ego. Congratulations. Merry Christmas, Janus.

Roman

           Janus stares at the letter, rereading it once more before putting it down on the desk with shaky hands. He rubs at his face, ignoring the fact that his cheeks were wet now. He leans back in his chair, hanging in his head guilt. God, Roman…what had he done? He just…the prince wanted to be friends…Janus licks his lips, the taste of salt and bitter grapes mixing. He stares at the letter sitting on his desk, regret and something heavy pooling in his gut. Janus hadn’t realized how much he’d hurt the prince has was supposed to protect.

He really should lay off of the wine…

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

a fluffy Eruri Oneshot in which Erwin and Levi decide to dress up as each other for Halloween

They both get Hange’s help, who finds it hilarious but doesn’t breathe a word to the other person as they help Erwin raid the cleaning supply closet and Levi draw on thick eyebrows.

Erwin and Levi stand in front of their mirrors, fighting grins as they slant their hair into choppy bangs and part it in a deep swoop, respectively.

Hange is hosting a dinner for Halloween night, and they sit beside Moblit eagerly awaiting the chaos. The two men arrive at the same time and freeze when they catch sight of each other, staring in shocked silence. While Erwin seems to be holding back a smile, Levi is scowling.

Levi’s eyes narrow as he takes in the Commander’s cravat (tied wrong, he thinks) and the mop slung over his shoulder. “And who exactly are you supposed to be?”

Erwin shrugs with the mop over his shoulder. “I could ask you the same thing.” He eyes Levi’s slicked down hair, thick eyebrows, and the too-broad scout jacket falling to his waist. “It seems we had the same idea.”

Levi crossed his arms, the first hint of a smirk on his lips. “I don’t know what you mean, soldier. Bold of you to talk back to your Commander.”

Erwin’s eyebrows disappeared into his bangs. “Oh is that how you want to play this?” He tugged a handkerchief up over his mouth and nose and dropped his voice to a dramatic rasp. “Don’t bother me with your bullshit, Commander, I’ve got things to clean.”

Levi crossed his arms and stood on his toes, trying his best to look down on Erwin. “Well I’m busy wasting our budget. Looks like you’ll have to go to yet another fundraiser, Levi.”

“Only if I can complain the entire time. And if we spend all the money we raise on tea and sponges.”

Levi scoffed. “I’m going to go make a super secret plan and not tell anyone about it.”

Erwin smiled. “I’m going to somehow anticipate exactly what you have in mind and execute it perfectly.”

Back at the table, Hange and Moblit followed the escalating exchange like a tennis match. Levi flushed, thrown off by the compliment.

“Well I don’t have any hair on my chest because it all went to my eyebrows!”

Hange couldn’t help from muttering “I bet you’d like to know”, and Moblit snorted into his glass.

“I glare at everybody with my piercing, stormy eyes!”

“Well I have eyes like a perfect spring day!” Levi stepped closer, sending a glare up at Erwin much like the one he’d been accused of.

Spots of color appeared on Erwin’s cheeks, and it was his turn to falter. “I… I make fighting look easy! It’s like I can fly in ODM gear.”

“Well I make the fighting worth it!” The two men were chest to chest now, or as much as they could be with the height difference, and tension crackled in the narrow space between them.

Hange downed the rest of their wine in one gulp and slammed it back down on the table. “Damn it, just kiss already!” Moblit immediately sunk down in his chair, hiding from the incredulous looks the two men shot their way.

Hange didn’t back down. “You know you want to!”

Levi and Erwin spoke at the same time, in their own voices.

“Shut up, four eyes!”

“Yes, I do.”

Levi snapped his gaze back to Erwin. “You…do?” He clenched his jaw, for once unsteady on his feet. “This better not be some shitty joke.”

Erwin’s laugh was soft and tender, a little vulnerable. “I wouldn’t do that, Levi.”

The smaller man reached up and ran his fingers over Erwin’s cravat. “You didn’t even tie this right. Least you could’ve done,” he grumbled.

“Hm? Oh-!!” Before Erwin could protest that he’d done his best, Levi yanked him down by the fabric and crashed his lips against his.

Luckily for Hange, Levi couldn’t hear their gleeful whistle over the blood rushing in his ears. He was kissing Erwin. And then, somehow, miraculously, Erwin was kissing him back.

[stayinzencity]

heroine’s manual S1 E3

GENRE: Romcom, Drama | love triangles, childhood friends, high school au | INSPIRED BY: Heroine Shikkaku (shoujo manga) | LENGTH: ~1.4K | RATING: Teen | WARNINGS: mentions of food, eating | PAIRINGS: Minho x MC (Reader), Minho x OC (Heather) | TAGLIST: @linoscence @elizabeth11moreno  (ask to be added) | A/N: this chapter finally came out of the drafts after years thanks to @jisungsdaydreamer (and me accidentally posting part 5 first oops)

♡ previous episode 

♡ return to main

THREE. Even if he rejects me, I won't give up so easily and allow someone else to steal my spot.

Inviting Heather to hang out is a mistake. Having your friends around doesn't make you feel any less of a third wheel. It’s Heather who’s supposed to be the odd one out amongst your group, yet somehow it feels like the rest of you are the ones intruding. You can't bear to witness the shy glances and gentle smiles Minho and Heather exchange.

You're trying to come up with an excuse to break them apart without being the bad guy, when a crash comes to your rescue.

"Ah. My bad," Jisung apologizes, looking down at the glass he'd accidently knocked over. He'd been sitting next to Heather, and while the glass was fortunately intact, water had spilled onto Heather's lap. 

"Looks like you’re the victim of Jisung's idiocy today." Hyunjin hands her napkins, attempting to ease her through the awkwardness with his charming smile. He shoots Jisung a withering glare, getting a sheepish look and shrug in reply.  

"I guess I should get going," Heather says. She rises from her seat in a hurry, but a hand over hers gives her a reason to wait. 

Hyunjin.

Minho's expression is closer to amusement than jealousy, watching as his friend calls his girlfriend - by her actual name, not the nickname you've given her.

Maybe Hyunjin's crush hasn't disappeared yet. If he and Heather get together, then Minho would be yours again. Everything would fall perfectly in place.

"We don't live that far from each other. I'll take you home." Hyunjin pauses, turning to Minho who's sneaking cake onto Jisung's plate. "If that's fine with your boyfriend?"

"Whatever she wants," Minho says with a shrug. He doesn't seem to be worried about Hyunjin stealing away his girlfriend, which boosts your confidence in your own chances with him. 

"Yeah," you enthusiastically agree, nodding your head. "Hyunjin's a nice guy. Have a wonderful evening!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes, scowling at you, instead of being grateful that you're helping him out. One day, he'll figure it out, and thank you.

You lean close to her so that only she - and Hyunjin, perhaps - can hear. "You might even fall for him instead of Minho."

Hyunjin scoffs at your words with an exaggerated eyeroll and drags Heather out the door before you can say anything else.

Seungmin leaves soon after them, muttering something about an assignment that you don't really bother paying attention to.

And then it's just Minho, Jisung and you.

"We should head home too," Minho says. He gets up from the table and grabs his jacket from the back of the chair. "It's movie night."

"Ah, right." Jisung sends you a wink, starting the next phase of your plan to set your story on track. "I've got some stuff I need to work on, so I'll have to trust you two to keep our tradition alive even if it’s not the same without me."

And then it was just Minho and you.

It's usually easy to forget Minho's girlfriends exist when they're not around. Often they fade into the background even when they are around.

Yet you find yourself alone with Minho, head in his lap, too distracted to actually watch the show that's playing on the TV. Too much on your mind to even enjoy this moment.

Minho's texting someone, wearing a smile as soft as the one he usually gives you before he wraps you in a hug. 

The someone in question must be Heather. After all, who else could it be? The only real rival you've ever had when it came to Minho's affection and attention is Heather, right?

If there's no struggle, then it won't feel as special when you finally end up together. Heather isn't the heroine. That title belongs to you. You're the one that's always been with Minho. No one else knows him like you do- well, maybe Jisung does. That's a different story though.

If you're the heroine, then why do you feel like you're in second place? Are you falling into a background role in your own story? Could it be you're simply a side character in this tale?

Minho's fingers run through your hair, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

You're the one here with him, not Heather. You're the heroine, not her. There's still hope. 

“I like you,” you blurt. It's far from the confession you had planned, especially since you weren't even the one who was supposed to be saying the words first. Sometimes you need to improvise to get the perfect scenes, so it's ok. “I like you so much.”

Minho’s hand stops stroking your hair. He doesn’t take it away, so you don’t attempt to sit up. You want to be close to him, for as long as you can. 

Any moment now, he'll admit his feelings for you and you'll be the one beside him instead of Heather. 

You know that, but if somehow these are the last moments you’ll have with him, you want to remember them being pleasant. Besides, you don’t exactly want to look at his face right now. The aftermath of a confession is more mortifying than you imagined, especially when you haven't gotten an answer in return. 

“I know,” he says. 

And that’s it. He doesn't say anything else. And you don't have the courage to ask what your words meant to him. 

The couple on screen breaks up and eventually makes up, but you don't even remember their names anymore. Tears fall from your eyes and you wipe them away. 

"I can't watch this anymore," you manage to whisper. It's not the drama that has you crying. You know it, and you know Minho probably does too. "I'll head home."

Minho doesn't try to stop you as you leave. As tempting as it is to turn back, you're too afraid that Minho's eyes won't be watching you.

Seungmin once explained some physics cat theory. Put a cat in a box with poison, and it could be both alive or dead as long you don't open it. If you don't check, the cat might still be alive. Something like that.

In your imagination, Minho is woefully watching as you walk away.

After the confession, it's a little hard. Minho isn't actively avoiding you, except he kind of is. He has the perfect excuses, plus the universe seems to be on his side. It's natural for the hero of the story to have exceptional luck. 

As the heroine, you don't seem to have the same advantage. If anything, there's just been obstacles to your perfect ending. The biggest one turning out to be Minho himself.

You thought you didn't have to do anything and everything would fall into place by itself. Then when you took a chance and confessed, you were turned down. But even if he doesn't feel the same way now, you can't give up yet. It hurt when you realized you weren't on the same page as him, but there's still time for him to catch up, right? 

You run into him after class, and he has to catch you before you stumble to the floor. It's a scene straight out of the kind of anime you love to watch. A sign for you to take another chance, except Minho speaks before you can. 

"No."

You haven't even said a word, and you’ve already been shot down. An arrow through your heart, but it seems cupid isn't on your side.

Are you that obvious? Could Minho read minds? Does he really not like you?

"What? I didn't even ask-"

"I won't go out with you."

Ah. Well. Minho hasn't told you that he doesn't like you, though you aren't sure if you could handle hearing those words straight from him. 

"That wasn't what I was going to say," you lie. Your voice is strained, and you can't meet his eyes, so maybe it's not believable. But you can't admit the truth, can you? "I wanted to ask if you had any movie recommendations." 

Minho raises an eyebrow. He's not fooled. Still he goes along with it and makes some suggestions. Not that you’re really paying attention to his words as much as how his voice sounds. 

Minho. It's always been Minho. 

And you were the constant in his life, at least until Heather showed up.

It's hard to admit that she might have stolen the role that was meant for you, but you can't move ahead without accepting that. 

Turns out Minho isn't just on a different page. The title of the book doesn't match either.

You are lost, clueless of what lies ahead. There's one thing you're certain of though.

Even if you’re disqualified as a heroine, your only hero is Minho. 

♡ season one guide

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© 2024, stayinzencity

[rosanna-writer]

WIP Wednesday

More rough stuff from my notes app that may or may not make it into we said hello eventually, depending on if I think it fits later on :)

"Why is it for the best that we won't be in Adriata until after Summer Solstice?" I said, trying not to let anxiety creep into my voice. So far, Calanmai had been the only holiday I'd experienced in Prythian, and that had been…well, eventful.

Rhys studied me over his glass, probably wondering why I'd waited until we were alone to ask. I tried not to squirm as I waited for an answer--now that the words were out of my mouth, it seemed silly to be afraid of a holiday.

"Superstition," he said eventually. "The solar courts are the only three that experience a change in seasons. The Summer Court doesn't have any particular sway over Night just because we're currently experiencing the summer season, but with the stories about how magic waxes and wanes, I'll confess it would worry me to attempt to steal from them on the shortest night of the year."

I kept eating as I considered that and attempted to ignore the violet eyes boring into me. Rhys was quiet, but he didn't have to say anything--his expression alone was an obvious request to say what I was thinking.

But in truth, I felt like a bit of an idiot for not having considered the connection between the seasons, the length of days and nights, magic, and the courts of Prythian. A part of me was glad I hadn't asked in front of everyone.

It did beg another question, though. One I'd have to ask carefully. "Do we….do anything for the Winter Solstice? Here in Night?"

"It's one of our most important days of the year."

Of course it was. I scowled. "That doesn't actually answer my question, Rhys."

"There are services in the temples, but few people actually attend, in all honesty. It's time off spent with family, feasting and exchanging gifts."

"That's all?"

Another feline smile. "Did you want there to be more?"

I stilled. Rhys couldn't know. I hadn't told anyone, and my shields were secure and had been for months now.

"Out with it, Feyre," he said. I started to tell him that there was nothing at all, but Rhys just rolled his eyes. "I'm not reading your thoughts, but it's clearly written all over your face that there's something you haven't mentioned."

"Promise you won't do anything with the information."

"No."

We glared at each other over our plates. A talon ran down my shields—playful, somehow. Not a threat at all.

"Rhysand…" My use of his full name was an obvious warning. He just smirked, and I realized I'd inadvertently turned this into a game for him. I sighed, unwilling to drag this out when he'd find out eventually. I mumbled, "I was born on the Winter Solstice."

He blinked in surprise. "You were born on the longest night of the year."

"Yes, but there's no reason to make a fuss about it." I knew Rhys, though. He'd fuss anyway.

[ravenna222]

An unexpected beginning

Lmao sorry about the half-assed title, this is my first fic and I'm pretty nervous about it

Not to mention I wrote this in 10 minutes out of impulsivity so don't expect any quality writing really

Warnings: none (extremely sappy ending and possibly out of character sae)

pure fluff ♡

| slow burn | romance | engagement |

"Sae!"

"What now?"

"I told you it's fine, I don't need a bigger one, the one you got me is just fine!"

Your boyfriend, now future fiancé, was being a pain in the ass. It's difficult to discern what's going through his mind, and god damn how helpful it would be to know sometimes. Itoshi Sae is a mystery to everyone, no one can fathom the emotions behind those bored eyes, apart from you. Let's say to you he's more of a puzzle, you've put a part of it together, the outer parts, but you're struggling tremendously on the inside. To think you were just a waitress at a coffee shop he'd always go to extremely early before practice so he could avoid any unwanted paparazzi encounter, always wearing a black cap and a pair of sunglasses. In the beginning he never quite stood out to you, I mean he was just a simple guy in a simple outfit, the same old sweatpants and sweater, there was nothing quite particular about him. Perhaps that was before you had gotten a clear glimpse of the sea of emeralds hidden under those shades.

You remember it clearly, it was as if a fever hit you. They were dull, yes there was certainly no denying that, but they were deep and alluring. You had been bewitched! Or maybe unknowingly it was the other way round. Sae is so used to being recognised wherever he treads, taunted by the paparazzi, tormented by fans, oh and don't get him started on the constant buzz of his phone. It was nice, almost refreshing, being treated like a normal person.

Whenever he passed by he always hoped it was you who served him, you treated him like another client, unlike your colleagues who would constantly fawn over him, hearing mumbles and squeals such as "omg the sae itoshi", "i can't believe he's right in front of me!"

Perhaps it was because you too were a foreigner, another thing which brought you both closer, you didn't watch football apart from the occasional international match but overall the sport isn't very popular in your country, hence you didn't know who he was. Overtime you figured it out, a football prodigy, "Japan's national treasure", though it didn't mean much to you, you were a simple waitress working a part time job whilst studying at a University in Madrid.

You two were foreigners still adapting to a new lifestyle, a new culture, a new language.

Initially there would be a mere exchange of words, moreso you trying to awkwardly start a conversation: "How was your coffee?", "Would you like to try our new freshly baked pastries?" But Sae hated small talk, yet he seemed to find the energy to not glare at you every time you spoke.

He's known for his lean and muscular body, slowly earning the title of sex symbol, his flawless facial alignments, those enchanting eyes, however he was also known for his "do not waste my time" attitude, but somehow it made him appear even sexier to the public, certainly not to the poor interviewers who had to suffer in silence.

One time he was rushing away from the paparazzi, you were just opening the café as he rushed in almost making you fall. 'How rude' you thought, 'not even an apology?'

But those thoughts quickly vanished into thin air when you were met with pleading eyes. He wanted to get away from all the reporters, the people, the world. He was almost panicking. He could usually deal with everyone by brushing them off with that nonchalant stare of his, but today was different. He had enough. Thankfully you were the only one there at the time so you decided to hide him in the backroom, where you brought him a glass of water to calm down. Five minutes later, with all the paparazzi gone, he came out of his hiding spot and with a half-assed 'thank you' he made his way out. Gosh you were furious, nonetheless a crimson red flushed your cheeks. A note with his number and a little thank you written below.

And that's how it all started, to think you would be already picking your engagement ring after 3 years of dealing with this man. He proposed to you during a midnight walk along the seaside, Sae has always found comfort in the sea and that's why there was no better place to propose, but there was one problem: the ring. Even though the ring he got you was one he knew you'd like, he thought it was unworthy of you because it was so small, he wanted everything to be perfect and he wanted to make sure you were happy with the ring. It was nothing too extravagant or big, it was simple but embellished just right

"Seriously Sae, love it. Stop being so stubborn! It's perfect for me, gosh. Why are you worrying so much about this?"

Sae groaned, he was definitely being too worrisome about this and he was well aware of it.

"Y/n, I don't want to make any mistakes-"

"Sae, sweety, I love you and I love this ring. Now can we go home and get some rest? The shop's about to close".

"Yeah sure, but don't go complaining or flip out on me if you suddenly don't like it".

You laugh to yourself, hopefully you're going to be stuck with this drama queen for the rest of your life.

[sleptrn]

Kalego Angst With a Hint Of Fluff ( Gender Neutral)

Fandom: Welcome To Demon School Iruma-Kun!

tw! - insults, swear words, self-degrading, mentions of blood, injuries

includes: a 'fight', blaming, guilt, anger, rage, Kalego actually caring for you #WOAH😱😱/hj, friendly banter, jokingly fighting in the end (verbally), Kalego being obliviously smitten, fluff

-----------------------------------------

"Fucking hell. You're so fucking stupid. What the hell is wrong with you?" Kalego grumbled as he pinched the space between his eyebrows.

He's visibly frustrated. No, frustrated is an understatement. He's absolutely enraged. So enraged to the point where you wouldn't be surprised if he killed you right here, right now.

But what exactly brought upon this? What exactly caused Kalego to be in such a furious state...?

You.

You did.

You're the cause of this.

And..

"It's all your fucking fault." He glares at you, with anger so strong that you flinch and look away, too scared to meet his gaze as it might be the end of you.

As he silently ponders for a few seconds about what to do next, thousands of thoughts start running through your head...

'He hates me now.... I fucked up... I shouldn't have messed around with his spell books.. if I didn't, the beast wouldn't have been released... Everything would've been fine...'

Indeed. Kalego isn't frustrated over something small and petty like a spilled coffee,

or you accidentally killing or dislocating his beloved cacti.

....Okay, maybe that isn't small or petty.

He's frustrated over the fact that you've just released a beast even Sullivan would have a hard time defeating.

Worst part about this is that, Sullivan is currently attending to foreign matters in a foreign realm along with all the great superiors of the Netherworld. Thus, it's up to the teachers of the school to take down this beast.

With absolutely no time to waste, Kalego glared at you one last time before storming out of the room, rushing towards where the beast was.

You were frozen on the floor, not knowing what to do. You felt helpless. This is all your fault, yet you can't do anything to help... Can you do anything to help?

No, you can't. You'd just get in Kalego's way.

'I really am nothing but a nuisance..'

You thought to yourself.

Despite your shock, you somehow picked yourself up and got on your feet. With trembling knees, you stumbled towards the window and gasped when you saw that the beast had already defeated 3 teachers and they were all laying on the battlefield, covered in blood.

You felt sick to your stomach, unsure if it was from the gorey sight or the sense of guilt taking over you.

You watched as Kalego arrived at the scene. He looked as stern as always, always standing his ground. But even from here, you could see that he had a hint of fear in his eyes. Well, he was in the presence of a beast who could probably wipe him and the whole school out within 20 minutes after all.

You stare anxiously as he exchanged blows with the beast, casting as many spells as he could with all his might. His comrades fought by his side, but they were all slowly knocked down, one by one. In the end, Kalego was the last man standing.

He took a deep breath.

Inhale.

Exhale.

He closed his eyes for a little while, as if he's praying or recalling a memory...

When he opened his eyes again, he turned towards your direction and looked right at you. He nodded at you slightly with a bittersweet smile.

His eyes were full of will and determination, but also sorrow.

Huh?

You felt your stomach swirl from fear.

Oh no.

Please. Please don't tell me he's planning to-

Before you could collect your thoughts, Kalego charged up a chant and started attacking the beast with all his might. He casted all sorts of spell, even attacked it physically a few times. They exchanged blows, each blow got increasingly brutal and painful.

You couldn't stand watching the fight helplessly through a glass window when Kalego was risking his life for the school, so you dashed out of the room into the hallways.

I have to get there. I have to do something. I have to be at least a little useful. Fuck. Kalego, please. Hold on a little longer.

----------------------------------

When you reached the battlefield, you scouted your surroundings.

Teachers covered in blood were littered on the floor, injured students were scattered by the grass.

The beast was still standing.

Kalego was not.

You stared at Kalego's trembling body in horror. You hurriedly ran towards him and cradled him in your arms.

"KALEGO!!" You screamed in terror as he slightly raised his excruciatingly heavy eyelids and coughed out some blood.

"*cough cough*" His eyes winced in pain as he felt his body ache all over.

"You... You need to get out of here..." He mutters.

He slowly raised his trembling hand and cupped one side of your face.

"Get somewhere safe. Before it's too late.. *cough cough*"

Your eyes water as you gently placed your hand over his that is cupping your face.

"Kalego..." You murmur in a soft, broken voice. You're not hurt, but seeing him like this has wounded you more than any wound ever did.

"Go. Now. Please. While you still can... Save yourself.." He softly says, looking at you with fear and concern.

...Why?

Why does he care for my safety?

Why does he care about me when I was the cause of this whole massacre in the first place?

Why?

Tears ran down your face as you quickly used a floatation spell on Kalego to set him aside to a safe place. You proceeded to cast a healing spell on him - your bloodline ability - and gently kissed his forehead, praying for the best.

-------------------------------

You stepped back onto the battlefield, heart filled with rage and anger.

You meet head to head with the beast, but you're not intimidated by it, no. In fact, it's the opposite.

"Im the one who released you, and I will be the one to put an end to you." You narrow your eyes threateningly.

And the fight begins.

------------------------------

....Anddd the fight is over.

You've finally discarded the beast, but you're basically half-dead.

You have bruises and scratches all over your body, you have a fatal wound around your abdomen and you're losing a lot of blood. You start to slowly lose consciousness as you take small steps towards the area where you've set Kalego down at.

You kneel down next to him and examine his body.

Thank goodness, he's alright.

You breathe a sigh of relief, and gently run a hand over his cheek, causing him to gain consciousness.

But before you could greet him or say anything,

You collapsed.

-------------------------------

"Ugh..."

You flinched in your sleep as you felt a slight pain in your lower abdomen.

The pain got more intense by the second, and suddenly it felt like an electric shock, stinging you from within.

"ACK!" You screamed loudly as you shot up from your sleeping position.

Huh?

You were... In a hospital room. You were on a hospital bed...

You were basically mummified in bandages...

You took in your surroundings as you tried to recall all the events that happened, but that train of thought was broken off by the familiar sting of pain.

"OUCH!! WHAT THE FUCK?!" You snap your head to the side only to see a familiar face holding a cotton swab.

A face that is ever so familiar.

A face that pisses you off ,

but also a face you're so relieved to see.

Kalego...

"Pfft... Someone who took on a whole deadly beast is scared of a little hydrogen peroxide?" He raised an eyebrow and laughed mockingly.

You glare at him, clearly not having enough energy to deal with his shitty attitude. Especially not when you just woke up. Especially not when he's stabbing you with that hell of a cotton swab.

"Is this really how you treat someone who saved your sorry ass? Torment them with a stinging, torture device?"

"Well it's either you deal with this so-called 'stinging torture device' and stop whining.. or you can get an infection. Pick your poison, your highness."

You glared at him, only to get a cocky grin in return.

"Sigh... I don't have the energy to put up with your shit right now. Are you done? I want to get back to sleep." You say, laying back down and pulling up your blanket.

"Yeah, I'm done. If I continue treating you with the oh-so-deadly 'stinging torture device' you'd continue to whine and cry anyways. And as much as I'd enjoy that, other patients probably wouldn't."

You rolled your eyes, smiling.

"Wow, okay, Mr. Sadist...." you mocked.

"Anyways, since you're done, I'll get some rest." You dragged your blanket closer and motioned for him to get out.

You expected some sort of remark from him, but he just complied with your request and smiled slightly before walking out the door.

Weird, that's not quite like Kalego.

Maybe he hit his head a little too hard...

You chuckled to yourself before you drifted off to sleep.

---------------------------

A few hours had passed,

Kalego came into your hospital room once again and sat on the seat beside your bed. You were still sound asleep, exhausted from the fight.

Kalego silently admired how peaceful you looked while you were asleep and ran his fingers over your cheek gently.

He recalled everything you've done on the battlefield, and how concerned you were about his well-being.

The thought made his gaze soften slightly.

"You really are something..." He sighs quietly.

He continues admiring you, resting his head by your bedside.

Then, he hesitantly gets closer to you.

So close you could probably feel his warm breath on you...

He gently whispered into your ears...

"...Thank you."

Right after saying those words, his ears had a soft tint of pink.

He's probably embarrassed. Or maybe it's pink for a different reason...

I guess we'll never know...

------------------------------

Kalego knows that you were the cause of this whole mess in the first place, but he somehow couldn't bring himself to hate you. You are constantly on his mind. Everytime he says something mean to you, he would be up at night wondering if he had gone too far or crossed any of your boundaries... He knows that despite the fact that you're an idiot to him, you're also special to him in some way.

He knows.

But what he DOESN'T know is that you were awake the whole time he said all that and did all those sweet gestures, also when he was mindlessly staring at you...

and you will never let him live it down.

----------------------------------

The end 🥂

----------------------------------

I'm not proofreading this until tomorrow it's literally almost 4am I NEED SLEEEPP

anyways I hope you guys enjoyed it!! It's not that angsty tbh so I apologize if You expected something more soul-crushing...

Follow for more content like this from me ✍️ requests are also open so feel free to send me some in my ask box!

[driftward]

Title: What Vengeance Brings Characters: Nehra Mewrilah, Estinien Varlineau Summary: Nehra has long kept Estinien at arm's length, viewing his obsession with vengeance as a life long character flaw that fed his reckless behaviour and resulted in tragedy for so many. Now, under the shadow of what is left of the Garlemald Empire, they are forced to face their own struggle with what vengeance means. Notes: This was written as part of a gift exchange between a fair number of Final Fantasy XIV artists and writers, as organised by Sasslett! (Sassanova on Ao3). This is my gift for dreadwormz. Being entrusted with someone else's character is such a treat, as well as a privilege I take seriously, and I have been pleased to been able to make this for them. Enjoy!

The party was situated around the campfire, having decided to stop for the night. The moogles had been equal parts pleasant and exasperating, but they had their guide, now, and the path to Hraesvalgr was clear.

Alphinaud held his cup in his hands, looking into its depths. “I certainly hope he will be open to our audience,” he said.

“Chin up, boy,” said Estinien. “If Hraesvalgr will not receive our parlay, then Nidhogg shall receive my spear. Even now I can sense his fury from his aery. An end to this, one way or another.”

Nehra felt Ysayle tense, ready to begin the argument anew, but they beat her to it.

“Even after all this time, and all that we’ve worked towards, and you can still think of nothing except your damnable vengeance! This is supposed to be a mission of peace, Estinien.”

Estinien snorted. “Aye. And I will see that peace, one way or another… Warrior of Light.”

Nehra glowered at him. “Can you even see past your hate and fury? We’re trying to make something good here. A lasting peace. Something besides more blood and death, can’t you see that?”

“What I can see,” said Estinien, dryly, “is the lichyards of my countrymen fallen to that wyrm. I am dedicated to the cause of our little lordling here, but should it fail, I will not hesitate to do what is necessary.”

“Enough!” cried out Alphinaud. “I know that we have been on this road for a very long time. Can we not set aside our differences for but a few malms longer? We shall seek our audience from Hraesvalgr, and then we shall decide what to do from there.”

Ysayle got up and turned away from the rest of them, heading for her tent. With one last glare at Estinien, Nehra went after her.

~*~

Fandanial’s mocking laughter faded along with him, leaving Nehra out in the cold, under the looming shadows of the wrecks of the towers that were once Garlemald.

He had not dumped them straight on top of danger, for a blessing, but around them, Nehra could see addled soldiers and malfunctioning magitek aimlessly drifting around the streets.

They could feel their very soul freeze, not quite succumbing to panic, but close to.

This body they were inhabiting was off. It was too tall, limbs too long, and Nehra found the height almost dizzying. Their soul was tied to this body somehow, and they could feel a wave of nausea threatening to overcome them.

Despite the heavy armor that this body came with, Nehra felt naked, exposed. It was as though they had been laid bare to the world. They tried to call to the aether, but found themselves blocked and sealed away from it. This body had no access to those precious energies, and trying to draw from them threatened their grip on it.

Had they ever been this helpless.

Not just the body. The entire situation. Their friends were out of reach. A monster had taken their proper body, and was now on his way to mete out his sick amusement. Fandanial was unquestionably nearby, watching, laughing at his own cleverness.

Nehra felt empty.

They looked outwards, finding out for themselves which direction Camp Broken Glass would be in, and began to head towards it, keeping their head low, a tight grip on their borrowed weapon.

They would find their way home.

All they had to do was ignore that void in their chest gnawing at the edges of their soul.

~*~

Nehra watched, transfixed, as Hraesvalgr swept around the mighty Imperial flagship Gration.

Estinien crossed his arms, watching next to her.

“What is he doing?” asked Wedge nervously.

Nehra did not answer, frowning, watching closely as the mighty dragon rose high into the sky, corkscrewing as a single lone figure dropped from his back.

Nehra felt their heart go to their throat. “Ysayle!”

“What is that mad woman doing?” muttered Estinien.

Ysayle plummetted from the sky, two wyverns flanking her, and Nehra could only watch as she took the form of Shiva, the mighty Primal of ice.

The Enterprise Excelsior bucked as it twisted and turned, avoiding another barrage of Imperial gunfire, but it was no longer the primary target of the dreadnought’s strength. Guns turned to the new threat, rockets and bullets being exchanged with ice and winter storm.

Nehra held her breath. Could Ysayle do it?

Mighty spears of ice stabbed into the hull of the Gration, even as frost coated its engines and smoke began to pour out from its flanks, as ceruleum froze and machinery seized.

What did not freeze, however, were the ship’s main guns. Peppering the sky with flack, they at last found their mark, once, twice, many times, over and over and over again. With each hit, a puff of snow and ice flew into the air, as Shiva’s ice armor held out.

But not forever.

Nehra could only watch, helpless, as Shiva’s form dissipated. The two wyverns flanking her fell, and shortly after, Ysayle fell with them.

Nehra lunged out a hand towards Ysayle, as though she could reach across the distance and pluck her from the air. Next to her, Estinien rushed forward, holding onto a brace as he leaned out, his body tense as though to follow after her.

“I’m going to try to make a break for it. Hang on!” said Cid.

The Gration fell behind as the Enterprise Excelsior broke away, making for the floating island of Azys Lla.

And Ysayle fell away through the clouds. And as she did, Nehra’s heart fell with her.

~*~

Nehra felt so helpless.

They dug through the ruins of Garlemald, finding supplies as they went along, patching what they could into the armor from salvage that they found, applying medicine as best as they were able with fingers that were too large against a body that was too frail.

The emptiness gave way to something else, a dogged determination, and the beginnings of something simmering inside of them.

Something had gone terribly wrong in the world and had left Nehra here in this magitek armor in this abandoned body that was not theirs in the corpse of this once great city, but Nehra could make it right. Had to make it right. Had to make it home.

Had to get to their friends and loved ones before Zenos did.

Determination fueled them at first, but they felt it began to wane, as Nehra had to strike down victims of this nightmare much like themselves. But where Nehra still at least had their sanity, many of the soldiers they ran across had lost their minds to the enthrallment of that awful tower.

But not all of them.

Nerha found themselves standing alongside the survivors of Garlemald.

The survivors counted them as one of their own, because of course they did. Nehra looked exactly like one of their officers, this body clad in the armor of one of their fallen, but the others didn’t know that, and Nehra couldn’t figure out how to make this body speak to tell them otherwise, and had no desire to do so anyroad.

But they were just as hopeless as Nehra was, perhaps more so, and as Nehra gazed upon these people, just struggling to survive, something inside of them shifted, and ignited.

Nehra was not the only victim.

Nehra’s family was going to be the next victim.

Nehra would not allow that to happen.

Nehra would be the last victim of that madman.

The strength of determination faded and gave way to something far more puissant. The fire of vengeance began to burn, and Nehra found it potent indeed.

Nehra banded together with these poor remnants of Garlemald as they attempted to survive, facing off against rogue magitek weaponry.

This body was so tired, but Nehra swallowed its weakness, and pushed it forward, harder, further.

They had to get home. They had to find out.

They had to find out what that monster planned to do, was doing, with their friends.

They had to stop him and his toady.

This was just one more step on the journey. They would catch up to Zenos, and Fandanial.

They could do something about this.

They could fix this.

They pulled others to their feet, and charged into the fray.

They could end Zenos and Fandanial.

They took fire from wandering weapons platforms, and pressed on.

They had to.

They were flung through the air as a magitek fuel cell exploded, nearly ending them.

They fought on.

They crawled along the ground, grinding the teeth of this body so hard they could feel the ache, the muscles in its legs burning, the fire in their soul licking out, threatening to consume them.

They had to stop him, and nothing else mattered.

~*~

Nehra looked down at what remained of Archbishop Thordan the VII.

Last of his line.

His last words, “What are you?”, echoed in their mind.

Nehra felt their arms go lax, and dropped their weapon. They were so, so, tired.

Was this what end Ysayle had bought with her blood? Was it worth it?

“…is it over, then? I had hoped that mine would be the hand to end it… but knowing you, there was little chance of that.”

Nehra bristled at Estinien’s words, but closed their eyes, and took a deep breath in before letting it out slow. They would not let Estinien get to them. Too much had been lost this day already.

And besides, they were exhausted. They felt as though they had ran every malm between Ishgard and Azys Lla, and perhaps in a way, they had.

The moment called for grace, not candor. So they turned to Estinien, and held out Nidhogg’s eye to him.

“‘Twould seem the Eye has served you well,” said Estinien, taking it. Nehra just watched as he walked over to Thordan’s sword, the last remaining artifact of the Heaven’s Ward, and reached down to pluck out the other dragon eye that its hilt had been formed around.

“Its twin… At long last… All that remains is to take them beyond the reach of man and dragon both. With this task accomplished, my toils shall finally be at an end.”

And theirs as well, Nehra thought. And perhaps after all this, they could take the time to mourn Ysayle properly. To remember her as she should be remembered.

A beautiful light just trying to bring some brightness to this dark world.

A crack of aether brought Nehra’s attention sharply back to Estinien. The twin eyes of Nidhogg roiled with blood red aether, and Nehra could feel the fury blooming off of them, a sickly miasma that burned at the edges of their very self and churned their insides on themselves.

“Thou hadst done well to resist mine influence, bathed in my power and blood as thou wert,” intoned the dark voice of Nidhogg in draconic, somehow speaking from beyond the grave. “Alas, in thine anticipation of comfort, thou hast lowered thy guard!”

Nehra’s breath quickened as the world seemed to slow down. They were uncertain as to what to do. Approaching Estinien seemed a fool’s task, the heat of the fury coming off of them warning Nehra away. But to flee was not in their nature and out of the question. They had to do something. Just a few moments longer, and they were certain they could figure something out..

“The keening of my fallen kindred… their smoldering desire for vengeance… mine eyes have partaken of a thousand years of pain-a pain which I shall bestow upon thee! Drink deep of my rage, mortal… AND BECOME ME!”

An explosive wave of heat blew through Nehra and they felt themselves go cold despite it, shielding their eyes before its powerful waves, and when at last they lifted their head once more, Estinien stood there no longer.

In his place was the embodiment of generations of pain and anger, the manifestation of vengeance itself.

Nidhogg.

With a roar, he took off, and Nehra could do nothing but watch as he flew into the sky.

Nehra gritted their teeth as their ears folded back and their tail thrashed. Vengeance was not done exacting its price today, not just yet, it seemed.

~*~

They could see themself.

This body was tired. They were now part of it, a soul clinging to a body that was not theirs. Their soul, its tendrils strung through the body of this thing, a puppeteer’s strings all tangled in the ribs of a corpse, and this body was so, so tired.

But they pushed it, dragged it, cajoled it, and through sheer willpower, managed to drive it to this point, here, now.

They could see themself.

It was not at all like looking in a mirror. It was wrong. They looked wrong.

And they were grabbing ahold of Y’vdola. Their hand, on Y’vdola’s arm, leering at her, leaning close, threatening her.

Their Dola.

Their wife.

Nehra almost felt themself vanish in the white hot ignition of sheer rage that burned through their entire soul and seemed to threaten to light the body they were inhabiting on fire. Aether had not come to them yet for this entire wretched journey, but it flared now in the heat of their fury, leaping to them, as they felt themselves become soul fire itself. They wrenched their sword up in an overhand grasp, and with a powerful heave, their power flowed into it, and they speared it across the field.

The sword slammed into Nehra’s right thigh.

It may well have ended a lesser being. As it was, Zeno’s grip on their body faltered, and Nehra watched themself fall.

Even as their own grip on the shambling wreck they had been steering faltered, the last burn of effort being too much to continue to maintain a grip.

Fandanial chose now to appear, of course.

The bastard.

Nehra was going to teach him that there was enough room in this grave for two.

But not just yet.

He taunted Nehra, declared the little experiment over, that the time was just about up, but Nehra could barely hear him for the rushing of the fire in their ears.

They both would die. Zenos first. It mattered not what body he inhabited. He would never get the chance to harm anything that mattered to them ever again.

~*~

Nehra glared up at the tower, and clenched their fist. Their body was theirs once more, and Zenos and Fandanial had fled, and the group was determining what needed to be done.

“We go after him, that’s what we do,” they declared. They could feel the fury burning inside of their veins, and they could feel its power in their own voice, almost as if roaring from a distance, as they spoke. “We storm the tower, find them both, and we kill them. Put an end to all of this, one way or another.”

Nehra turned to see the others looking at one another. Alphinaud cleared his throat and spoke first. “Well, yes, obviously, that is naturally our next course of action, but I was rather hoping to speak of how we might go about doing that, exactly.”

“What is there to talk about? We’ve got the people. We’ve got weapons. We gather our forces, and we storm the tower.”

“We must needs plan our exact methods and not rush in rashly,” said Y’shtola, and damn her for being reasonable. “Word needs to be disseminated, and we must needs be diligent about our preparations, lest we come to an ill end.”

“Fine. Let me go first. I’ll rush the tower my damned self,” said Nehra.

“Surely you do not mean that!” said Alphinaud.

Estinien was standing nearby, his arms crossed, but he was almost staring at Nehra. She glared at him, meeting his eyes. His brow furrowed, but his gaze did not break.

Nehra looked away first, feeling her face burn as she looked to the ground.

“…no. No, I guess I don’t,” she said sullenly. “Fine. We make our plans. But as soon as we’re able, I want to strike.”

She looked up at the group, and saw heads slowly nodding, some more reluctantly than others.

Damn them all and damn their caution.

She turned away from the group suddenly, stalking off. “Start the planning without me. I’ll be back.”

“Nehra, wait -” began G’raha, but they did not listen to him. They were too angry. Too upset, and they had neither the time nor the patience for any of their friends just now.

How did they not understand? How could they not understand? Zenos had threatened them all, he had almost hurt them, under Fandanial’s mocking words. And the longer they took to go after both of them, the more time they had to scheme and come up with more wretched plans of their own.

Nehra would see their blood in the snow before the day was out if they had anything to say about it.

They walked through and around buildings, past people and boxes, angrily ignoring refugee and ally alike. Nehra stalked past them all, not seeing or hearing anything until they at last looked up to see where they were going.

They were in a clearing. Behind them, the small little spot of civilization that the Garlean Contingent had managed to make into a temporary home. In front of them, the gnarled trunks of frozen forest, dark in the unforgiving winter.

Nehra turned once more towards the menacing tower that dominated the landscape and loomed over everything, dwarfing even the tall spires of the ruins of the capital of Garlemald.

And nearby, far nearer than he had any right to be, was Estinien.

They had been dodging him practically since he had joined the Scions properly, after the events of the First, but there was no ducking him this time, and a part of Nehra didn’t want to. A part of Nehra wanted this, now. The opportunity to vent their frustrations on him. Anger welled up, but Nehra realised it had nowhere to go just now, but they dug in anyway.

“What do you want, Estinien?” Nehra practically snarled at him.

Estinien just raised his head at them, and tilted it ever-so-slightly. They turned away from him, but began to pace around him, and tried not to think too much about how much they were like a predator circling its prey.

“I came to look after you. It is not like you to be so full of rancor.”

“And you would know a lot about that, now, wouldn’t you?”

“I would, aye.”

Nehra paused, stopping. How long had they known Estinien, that they did not anticipate his candor? Even next to the likes of Y’shtola, Estinien tended to be blunt and to the point.

“Well what about it. I hope you weren’t planning on lecturing me on how righteous my anger is or isn’t, especially after everything that happened back in Ishgard.”

“You seek vengeance.”

“You’re damned right I do.”

“I know where such a path leads.”

“Do you intend to try to stop me, then?”

“No. Nor do I want to. When I went to face Nidhogg in the aery, despite my rage, my need for vengeance, your vision was clearer than mine, and you saw the necessity of the work. You went with me, despite your misgivings. It is much the same now. Your vision remains clearer than mine, no matter how bad your need for revenge may cloud it. These mad men need to be stopped, and I intend to be with you every step of the way.”

“Then what, Estinien? What could be so important that you’ve followed me all the way through camp and halfway to the woods to tell me?”

“You aim to go into that loathsome tower and see an end to the former crown prince, and none will gainsay you, and nor shall I. But I cannot help but wonder what toll you are willing to charge for the privilege.”

“What toll? How can you ask that? I’m going to stop them, Estinien. By any means I can bring to bear. I will see an end to their pointless, useless campaign of terror and bring peace to these lands.”

“And what of the people of Garlemald?”

“I would think they’d be grateful. But whatever they do, they’d better stay out of my way.”

“And your own?”

“I’m doing this for them! They can either help or get out of my way too.”

“And once you’ve killed him, once you have sated your righteous anger, what then?”

Nehra stopped pacing, and faced Estinien, throwing her hands out to the side.

“I don’t know. What do you mean, what then? Nothing! Then nothing, because he’ll be dead, and everyone will be safe!”

“Will they?”

Nehra’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that, Estinien.”

Estinien’s words were harsh, but his tone… his tone was gentle.

“Have you forgot that mad woman’s screed so easily? She rejected my rage, my righteous anger, perhaps even more stridently than you. Because she believed, and though she was wrong about a great many things, she was right in her own way about one. Vengeance begets vengeance, but it will never bring you peace.”

“How dare you,” said Nehra. “I cared for Ysayle. More than you can know. I failed her. I will not fail -”

They stopped themself, and clenched their fist.

Estinien looked out over the snow, and continued as though Nehra had not said anything. “I remember standing in that room with you, Thordan’s plans undone. Do you remember Nidhogg’s words? About the anticipation of my coming comfort? But while it may have been hope for release from that burden that caused me to lower my guard, that was not what let him in.

“It was the hollowness that had been left in my soul in the wake of what I had thought to be the fulfillment of my vengeance. Aye, I had killed Nidhogg. But doing so had not brought me peace. My parents, my family, my countrymen. They were all still dead. And I had never had to face that, not truly. I let my need for vengeance blind me from the pain of my heart. And for that, I paid dearly.”

Estinien looked at Nehra. “Are you willing to pay the same price?”

“Any price to keep my friends and loved ones safe.”

“And I ask you again, will they be safe? What will you do, to always keep them safe from this world? There will always be another threat, another to call enemy. Shall you wait for it to come to you? Or will you search it out, eager to stop a perceived danger before it can rise too far? Knowing that your actions will never lead to the peace you wish?”

Estinien looked up at the night sky. “Even when you become the last one standing amongst the ashes of your enemies.”

Nehra stared at Estinien.

“He - he threatened you, Estinien. He threatened my wife, Estinien. He’s - he would see us all dead.”

“Aye, that he would,” said Estinien. “And what will be left behind, once he’s dead?”

Nehra looked down at their hands.

“I ran from the faces of my parents. What are you running from?” asked Estinien, quietly.

Nehra squeezed their eyes shut. They could feel a tension in their chest. They could feel a pain gripping their heart. They could see it, in their mind’s eye -

“My wife,” said Nehra, their voice hushed and harsh. “I could - I couldn’t save Ysayle. She trusted me, and I couldn’t keep her alive. And my wife - my wife trusted me. She - she saw my face, and she trusted me, and I almost failed her. I - I can’t fail her again, Estinien. I - I’m sorry. I can’t. I just… I just can’t.”

Even as the words spilled out of them, they could feel the tears begin to spill out of their soul and down their cheeks, hot fire burning rivulets into their memory, seeing again as their own body, driven by Zenos, reached out and grabbed Y’vdola’s arm.

Seeing Ysayle fall through the sky.

They had never felt so helpless. They sunk into the snow slowly, and they wailed, as their fury broke, and the grief behind it welled.

Estinien was right.

Damn him, he was right. And they were hollow.

“You must find me cold comfort indeed,” said Estinien, his voice still quiet. “But consider that there are those that you care about that still yet live. Go. Face them. Talk to them.”

Nehra took a deep, shuddering breath in, and then nodded, standing up again. The two returned to the house where the Scions were staying, walking in silence. The pain receded as they went along, as Nehra found themselves, at last, able to face what they had feared all along, inside of themselves. And as they went, Nehra found Estinien’s presence oddly comforting as they went back, even as they felt themselves quiet inside, the fire receding, and leaving behind the aching pain.

The fear of it all. The terror. The sorrow. The feeling of helplessness.

But now, Nehra would face those feelings, accepting each as they came. Even as they came to a stop outside where they were staying, Estinien looking Nehra over one last time before opening the door for them.

Nehra looked up to him, and he nodded, just once. Without returning the gesture, they took in a deep breath, summoned up their courage, and walked inside, to find the waiting faces of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn looking back at them.

Among them, the face of their wife.

Estinien closed the door behind them, as Nehra shared with them their fears and concerns, and accepted the comfort of their friends, and at last, began the plan of how they would confront this latest threat to the star.

And perhaps beginning to heal.

~*~

It was late when Nehra sought out Estinien and found him leaning against a wall, his arms crossed, as was typical. He barely acknowledged their presence as they approached, his hooded eyes that seemed to miss little, flickering over to look them over before returning to gaze away.

Only this time, Nehra thought they saw a glimmer of light in them. How long had that light been there?

How long had Nehra willfully ignored it?

Nehra clasped their hands behind them as they settled in to lean against the wall next to Estinien.

“We are still going after him,” they said.

“I should certainly hope so,” replied Estinien.

He was not as talkative as he had been in the clearing, and fell silent. Nehra, in turn, did not know how to say what they needed to say.

So they just said it.

“I have been avoiding you since you joined us. Or being short with you when we did have to interact. I haven’t been fair to you, and… and I’m sorry. I’m going to try to be better about that.”

“Hmph. I shall hold you to that.”

Nehra just smiled and snorted a bit at that.

“…thank you.”

“All I did was prattle on too much on matters you would’ve figured out on your own. I just thought to maybe get to them sooner, rather than later. Better, before the regrets had a chance to settle in.”

“Yeah… I think I understand.”

“As I said. Your vision has always been clearer than mine. That’s why I’m here. And if I may be so bold… I think that is part of what she saw in you, too.”

Nehra felt the pang of memory.

“Ysayle.”

“Aye. That mad woman… she was my friend too, in the end.”

Nehra nodded, at last, accepting it.

“You’re still with me, then?”

“So long as you march ever forward, my spear will be at your side,” said Estinien, before smirking at Nehra. “So no, I’m afraid you’ll not be rid of me so easily.”

“What - you’re impossible, you know that?”

“That is what she said as well as you recall, aye.”

“Well, she was right!”

The two looked at one another, and then they both fell into laughter, which faded away quickly, but something had changed between them. They were not yet as friends, perhaps.

But they had found something, at last, to build on between them. Something more than the foundation of vengeance would have allowed them.

A better future.

[shootingstarwritings]

FEStival Fiasco

Part 6

Phecda’s little safe house was near the outskirts of the exam site. A simple apartment building with walls neatly decorated as though a prince lived in them.

‘Maybe that’s why he picked that host,’ thought Centaurus as he made his way down the halls and towards the lobby. Everything was far too pristine, far too unnaturally beautiful. It wasn’t unlike the buildings back at Terras, home world. This place was probably familiar for an Elite like him.

Elite…

“Worms don’t make for such fine test subjects,” Phecda had said. The words still bothered Centaurus. What had he been trying to imply? And did Centaurus want to know? Just the idea of being considered a ‘test subject’ annoying him to no end.

“Is he saying I’m not a worm…?” Centaurus muttered out loud. A few passing residents spared him a glance, the curiosity clear in their expressions. However, Centaurus didn’t pay them much mind. He only wanted to see if their body language betrayed any intent to fight.

Was Phecda suggesting that Centaurus was somehow better than his peers?

“Sunuvabitch,” he muttered as he walked past the automatic doors. Golden flowers and vines made of fine metals decorating the glass. The sheer lavishness of it all made him ill. He was glad to be leaving the building. Taking his first step forward, his gaze instantly shifted to the professor leaning up against the wall just a few feet away from the entrance.

Professor Polaris’ eyes didn’t widen when they wandered over to Centaurus. His pose, lax shoulders and a hunched back, remained static as he spoke up. “Ah! Quite fortunate, seeing you here,” he said, lazily raising his arm in a small greeting. Despite his attempts to seem casual, he had been expecting Centaurus. Polaris should’ve been at least a bit surprised or had some sort of reaction to seeing him.

‘What is he playing at?’ thought Centaurus. ‘He was waiting for me.’

Even after several hours, Polaris retained the same host. For whatever reason, whenever he found a body he didn’t seem to enjoy discarding it until the mission was over. Centaurus had once overheard a student from another class refer to Polaris as ‘overly sentimental.’

“How have you been, Centaurus?” said Polaris as he approached. “I trust your tasks have been finished?”

“Professor,” said Centaurus with a curt nod. “Is there something you need?” Answering his question, for whatever reason, didn’t feel right at the moment. It’d be better to just remain discreet. Centaurus also noticed that Polaris’ stance was unusually lax. His knees were straight, his hands were in his pockets, and his feet weren’t far apart. Weren’t soldiers, especially those with stories histories like Polaris, supposed to be more serious? Despite how little humans knew of their existence, the planet was still enemy territory.

“No, not quite what I need. But I do wish to inform of some of your classmates’ conditions. Particularly that of Alcor.” Centaurus’ eyes widened, and he cursed his sudden reaction.

“What does Alcor have to do with me?” he said, attempting to remain casual.

Polaris shrugged. “From what I can tell, nothing. But that reaction is certainly interesting. Usually you just shrug and dismiss me whenever I discuss your classmates with you.”

“Well, what’s the news on Alcor?”

“He’s gone,” said Polaris, eyes brimming with… pride? Amusement? Centaurus couldn’t tell. “Left the testing grounds, and it doesn’t appear he’s returning. For all intents and purposes, he has gone AWOL.”

“Oh, I’m surprised,” said Centaurus with a shrug. He had managed to regain his composure. Just a few more exchanges and he’d walk away and be home free. “For all his talk, I wouldn’t have guess he’d just up and vanish. Guess he was all bark and no bite.” He said, forcing a snicker.

“Aww… is that any way to talk about your new friend?” Despite his teasing words, Polaris’ eyes almost looked sympathetic. Centaurus didn’t respond. He dropped his arms to the sides and glared at his professor. “You know, Centaurus… to live freely is to give other freedom. To gift him that chance to escape, that opportunity to shape his own life and future, is something beautiful. Did it feel rewarding?”

“...Why aren’t you reprimanding me?” asked Centaurus, narrowing his eyes. “You almost sound proud of me. Why? Shouldn’t I be…I don’t know, expelled? Punished? Even just scolded?”

Polaris didn’t stop smiling. Instead, he turned around and gestured for Centaurus to follow. “Walk with me. We should talk privately.” Before Centaurus could respond, Polaris had already begun walking off. They were headed towards a more populated part of the fair. Not far from them was a closed, unattended booth. That was most likely his destination.

“H-Hey, wait damn it!” Centaurus ran to catch up with Polaris’ stride. The professor’s host had longer legs, and he almost seemed determined to leave him behind. “Asshole…” Centaurus muttered once he finally caught up. “… it was bittersweet.”

“Hmm?”

“You asked me how it felt—with Alcor. It felt, still feels, bittersweet.” It had been a brief connection, but it was one of the few that Centaurus had ever made. To watch it go and ride off towards a land promising freedom tore at his heart. It was difficult not being envious. “He’s fine, he’ll be happy, out there. But, I’m still here. Still the same.” He looked up at the sky. The sun was beginning to descend, dyeing the world a vivid orange. Everyday, the sky changed hues.

“I try to change,” continued Centaurus, looking down at his rough, scarred hands. It was unfamiliar to him, and yet he still remained the same worm he always was. The faces he wore and the memories he ingested were all different, yet the scars he bore and the faint hope he clung onto remained the same.

Static. Stagnant.

“I wish I could’ve gone with him. I wish I could’ve escaped and shaped my own future with my own hands. But I was scared.” His voice cracked as he spoke. His host’s heart was racing, each thump an agonizing reminder of his own life. Why had he survived while other worms didn’t? Why did he continue to live? “I always thought becoming a Dreadfighter, becoming someone, would bring me happiness and freedom. And maybe it will. But I still wonder why I didn’t just run away with my friend. Why just being someone to Alcor wasn’t enough to let me run alongside him.” He looked up at Polaris. “Professor, did I make the right choice? Or am I just weak?”

“I can’t say,” he said. “No one can know what choice is the right one. We simply choose and allow the consequences to play out. If we don’t like them, we just deal with outcome and make another choice later down the line. That’s what life is, Centaurus. That’s the beauty and terror of freedom.” Polaris raised his arm and stopped Centaurus in his tracks. “And you made your decision. You chose to help Alcor find freedom, Centaurus. Extending a hand out in kindness, even after facing so much abuse from others, from your own kind, takes a type of strength I deeply envy.”

Stepping forward to stand in front of Centaurus’ host, Polaris placed a hand on Centaurus’ borrowed chest and squeezed. “Your heart is scarred, and it remains strong. It’s so easy to hurt someone else because you’ve been hurt. But you chose differently, Centaurus. As your teacher, I am so very proud of the choice you made.”

“Professor, I…”

Before either of them could continue, “A-HEM,” a loud and deliberate cough cut them off. They both turned to face a round-faced women with a babbling infant in her hands. “Pride is important and all, but please don’t grope each other where kids can see you.” Polaris withdrew his hands, muttering a sheepish apology as his ears turned red. “Thank you.” With a huff, the woman walked off.

The two stood there in silence before Polaris let out a snicker. “Snrk…! Heheh…! Here I was trying to be all emotional that I forgot humans don’t share such intimacy with each other.” It wasn’t long before he was full-on laughing, shoulders bouncing up and down as that little embarrassed joy filled the air.

Centaurus joined in for a second with a few light-hearted chuckles, but remained paranoid the whole time. “Professor, what’s the real reason you wanted to speak to me?”

“Ah, yes, yes!” nodded Polaris. “Come. We should talk privately.” He walked over to the booth’s closed curtains and gestured for Centaurus to walk in. He didn’t. After a few moments of waiting, he nodded and said, “Smart. Don’t show your back to someone if you’re not 100% certain you can trust them.”

“It’s just common sense.”

“Not to those who can afford it. Those we call ‘Elites.’ I do apologize that to you it is common sense, Centaurus. Or for anyone, in that war-fueled society of ours.” Polaris stepped into the darkened booth first, and Centaurus cautiously followed.

“There’s a lot that needs to be said,” said Polaris, his voice dropping low and losing any of the levity it previously had. “And some that can only be shown to be believed. But I suppose there’s no easy way to ease someone into this next bit of news.

“Centaurus, our society relies on the weak thrown and killed on the front lines or dying in the mines for resources to fuel our machines and weapons to fight. Or even as slaves, not servants, to Elites who see them as lesser.” With each word he uttered, his voice became softer and somber. The look in his eyes, a bit harder to tell in the dark booth, grew dull and damp. It was as if speaking about this was sucking the life out of him.

“War and hierarchy are intrinsic parts of our society,” he continued. “And this decades-long war, having started long before I was even born, allowed for technological prosperity, but social stagnation. It makes sense, doesn’t it? We can’t move forward without risking stability, and no one wants that in the middle of wartime.

“But, Centaurus… you, me, and all who have died and lived in the 20 years have been living a lie. The war has been over. Our Emperor has made fools of us all.”

[sayonarasanity]

Keep Me

this story is part two of “dandelion” but it can be read separately

link to AO3

"And I froze, and I reckon I missed it When all of the rain came down In the shape of everything"

The first time saw her, it was raining.

It had started to rain sometime after dawn. The roads were wet, dark, dreary clouds mobile, and on top of the lampposts were settled the crows. Levi watched them with squinted eyes and a discontent face. He never fancied the weather and the fact that the cuffs of his trousers were getting soaked despite his best efforts wasn’t helping either. Moreover, he absolutely disliked carrying an umbrella which in this case was a necessity he very much loathed and it irked him even further.

When he was merely steps away from the bus stop, he saw her. She was standing under the shelter, wearing a ridiculous, lilac-coloured raincoat, a pair of canvas trainers—which he did not understand the logic behind wearing in such weather—her hair was slightly wet as well as her glasses which were slipping down her nose and which was buried deep into whatever she was reading.

But none of that had piqued his interest, rather the fact that she was standing under the shelter and still carrying an umbrella was what annoyed him. Because why bother carrying it if it wasn’t functional anymore? But apparently, she was so preoccupied with her book that she hadn’t even noticed the double shelter and that there was no point in bending her arm to keep that thing above her head.

Anyway, none of his business. He gladly put down his own umbrella when he took shelter under the bus stop. Carefully folding it back and shaking off the raindrops so that it didn’t accidentally wet his coat. He merely threw one last glance at the woman to see if there was any progress. There wasn’t. Then he looked away and waited for his bus.

By the end of the day, he had long forgotten about her.

Or so he thought.

Levi hadn’t meant to sit down next to her. He genuinely hadn’t.

It had been a shitty week. Levi was almost a hundred per cent sure that his boss very much despised him. He must’ve done something to somehow cause the man to hold a grudge against him. There was no other explanation for the tones of work he had piled up on top of his desk. Even his co-workers, Erwin and Mike, had sent sympathetic glances towards him and it had annoyed him to no end. He needed no pity. The only thing he needed was peace and quiet. Maybe a house on top of a mountain, where no one could find him, a cat, tea, and a fireplace. Perhaps he would become a monk. It was better than having to find his way through such a fucked-up system.

As it turned out, they were taking the same bus to and from work. Levi wasn’t sure where she was getting on the bus in the evenings but after that rainy day at the bus stop, he was seeing her almost every morning. Not that they ever exchanged any words. She was most of the time busy reading books which varied every time he saw her. And later he also started to see her on his way home as well. The bus was usually packed, for it was rush hour, and it did no good to his quite intense nerves which were ready to snap any time like overly strained guitar strings. But even among the crowd of people somehow, she managed to stand out.

It was another day, Friday to be specific, and yet again the bus was fully packed, and Levi was on edge, literally. He almost punched a man who tried to squeeze next to him despite the fact that there was no place, not even the tiniest space in the goddamn bus to be squeezed in.

He did manage to stay calm, fortunately. And the bus pretty much emptied after two stops. His lungs were so glad to welcome the newfound oxygen that he had forgotten to sit down on one of the now empty seats.

Then, abruptly, he felt a pull on his coat and initially, he thought it was another stray brat of one of the passengers and he turned his head, sharply to glare at the poor child, only to find out that it was her. She was looking up at him from where she was seated and smiled when she saw him glaring at her. She didn’t seem even a slightly bit intimidated.

She patted the empty seat next to her, that smile never leaving her mouth. And he didn’t know what possessed him, or what controlled his body at the moment, yet he sat down next to her silently, without a word. Was he supposed to thank her? Did it matter? Was there anything to thank for? The seat was already empty, he would’ve sat down without her saying something anyway. But why did she—

“You seemed quite tense,” she talked, suddenly. Her voice was soft like cotton. And when he looked aside slightly bewildered, she offered him another smile. So easily. She seemed like she was doing it a lot. “And tired.”

Levi ignored that in order to realize those emotions she must’ve observed him throughout the drive. Although it didn’t require much of a study to see that he was absolutely tense and exhausted. And frankly, he didn’t understand why she would care about it either. “Thanks,” he said, dryly.

“No problem,” she chuckled.

That was the end of the conversation.

*

In the morning, Levi made a decision. Not that it took much of his time. The moment he had stepped out of the bus yesterday evening and the two of them went on with their separate ways without another exchange of words, he had settled his mind. That if he were to see her again this morning he would absolutely, without a doubt or hesitation ignore her. And if she were to try and talk to him again, he would keep his usual attitude. Stone-cold face and nonchalant eyes to show that he wasn’t interested in being friendly. It had always done the trick.

Hence you have no friends, the voice inside his head which so irritatingly resembled Mike, reminded him. He scoffed at his reflection in the mirror before leaving his home. Fixed his quite neat tie, smoothened his already perfectly straight coat, brushed off the invisible dust from his shoulders and walked out.

She didn’t come.

“You look grumpier than usual,” Mike told him, looking down at him from above the divide that separated them. It had been merely two hours since he sat down in front of this godforsaken computer, and the asshole was already being a headache. “What happened? Couldn’t find enough time to iron your boxers?”

“Not that,” Levi responded, staring up at him coldly. “But I’ll make sure to iron your dic—"

“You can talk to us if something is bothering you,” Erwin cut in. He was leaning to the side, picking a glance at where he was from the corner of the divide. Levi watched him briefly before carrying his eyes back to the computer. Erwin was being sincere, he knew. But there was nothing to talk about.

“It’s nothing,” he said, and by the tone of his voice, it was evident. The conversation was over.

*

The next day, she got into the bus seconds before the door was about to close. Levi watched her from where he stood, holding onto one of the handles above. She was out of breath and her face had flushed red. She must’ve run to catch the bus; her hair was so wildly scattered that Levi was surprised the hair tie was still in its respective place. And despite her quite strewn condition she graced the bus driver with a huge smile as she touched her card on the reader, saluting him with a very, unnecessarily, cheerful “Morning!”

Levi forced his gaze away when she started to walk into the bus. There was no seat available to sit, and the bus was already crowded enough for her to walk down any further. So, inevitably, or perhaps just because she felt like it, she came to a stop next to him, raising her hand to hold onto one of the handles.

His fingers curled tighter out of his control around the one he was grabbing, and he determinedly watched the view through the window across from him. Willed his mind to focus on the blurry images of the trees, buildings, billboards, rushing people, rolling cars… anything really, other than the fact that she was watching him as he could sense from the corner of his eye.

And he didn’t understand the reason why, they had only talked once and that was all. A couple of brief encounters and a small dialogue which barely contained any context meant nothing. Yet there she was, possibly about to make an attempt at small talk with him which was something he deeply—

“Morning.”

It wasn’t as festal as the one she had sent to the bus driver, yet Levi found himself directing his gaze towards her-- his indifferent gaze mind you, he was still adamant about the decision he had made. And she was smiling at him with twinkling, hazel-brown eyes which varied in colour when the rays of the morning sun touched them. It also highlighted the colour of her hair too which was something between chestnut brown and crimson sunset.

But why was he observing her? He blinked once, whisked the thought inside his head, then nodded curtly—just to show her that he appreciated it but also to indicate that he wasn’t interested in any further banter—then proceeded to watch the scene in front of him again.

And then when he least expected it, he heard her chuckle, again. Knitting his brows, he turned back to her.

“You’re not so chatty, are you?”

Her eyes were glinting with amusement. She wasn’t affected by his dismissive behaviour. Not at all. Then he would try another method. “Glad you noticed.”

She hummed, that smile seemed to be plastered on her face. It never left. “I am observant enough.”

Levi doubted it. She barely lifted her head from her books. Yet he remembered how she had noticed him being tired and tense that day. Although it wasn’t that hard to tell. She must’ve paid attention. But why? It shouldn’t be anything. She seemed like an outgoing person and clearly overly eager to make friends with everyone. Including the bus drivers and someone who so obviously did not share the same interest.

“It’s not rocket science,” he briefly said.

“Right, you’re easy to read.” When she saw him knitting his brows even deeper, she laughed. “No offence. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“Don’t care.” He looked away, once more. This time determined to never turn back again. He didn’t want her to talk anymore. Or… did he? What was this thing inside his stomach? Expectation, or dare he say hope?

Get a hold of yourself, man! The voice inside his head chided him. Holy God above, why was he hearing that bearded bastard’s voice even inside his head? Was peace really a no option for him?

The bus stopped, opening its doors for the new coming passengers. A little girl was the last one to get in. She was at most ten or eleven years old, wearing a pink coat and a purple backpack. Her hair was tied in two neatly done braids, falling down each of her shoulders. Her eyes scanned around as she walked down the bus, possibly in search of a safe place for her to stand. And just as she was about to pass by in front of him the bus made a sudden hard stop causing the little girl to lose her balance.

Levi didn’t think as he reflexively reached out to grab her arm so that she didn’t fall. And he waited until the girl was standing on her two feet again, securely. “Careful,” he told her as he let go of her arm.

The girl looked up at him and smiled, revealing her irregular teeth “Thank you,” she said before she turned around to hold onto the pole behind her.

It took him several seconds to realize that the person next to him was staring at him, again.

And that he was smiling.

“Not bad,” she whispered, hiding her smile by turning her head away when she saw him glaring at her after he wiped that stupid, barely visible smile off his face.

It seemed that for the first time in his life, Levi Ackerman had failed at not making a friend. And he didn’t know whether it was a good or a bad thing.

*

These brief conversations, and despite his best efforts to avoid them, the small talk slowly became something like a routine. Levi never initiated them though and they didn’t see each other every day. Sometimes he only saw her after work, but the bus would be so crowded to get near to each other. At times she managed to find a seat to settle she would be sleeping, head bouncing against the window and mouth parted. Her book left open and forgotten on top of her knees. If she wasn’t sleeping, she would bother him instead. Reluctantly, he would sit next to her when the bus emptied most of the passengers and she patted the available seat on her right or left.

In the mornings they mostly stood next to each other. Often it was quiet, much to his pleasure, yet she somehow found topics to talk about even though he was still pretty much a complete stranger to her. It was a capability out of the ordinary for sure. At least for Levi. And one he greatly lacked at that.

Her name was Hanji, he hadn’t asked but she seemed like she enjoyed answering his non-existent questions, and she was doing her PhD in physics. Levi had figured she was smart, but clearly, she was above the average. She was also clumsy—she tripled two times already while getting off the bus, thankfully he was there to save her ass—and kind. Too kind even. Even the fact that she was talking and for some reason trying to befriend him out of all people was evident enough.

To say that he wasn’t, at least even the tiniest bit, looking forward to these short encounters would be a lie. But each morning when he opened his eyes and realized that getting up from bed didn’t feel like labour and he was rushing his breakfast so as to not miss the bus and walked faster to the bus stop so that he would have a few more minutes for a cigarette and perhaps a couple of words he told himself that it wasn’t because of her.

But he had never been good at lying.

*

“What’s wrong?” Hanji asked after a couple of silent minutes since he sat down next to her.

They were on their way home and the bus was more or less empty. He had a terrible, hideous headache, one that stung as if someone was digging his temples with a pair of screwdrivers. Levi didn’t feel like talking but he also didn’t want to reflect his sour mood on her. She had nothing to do with it anyway.  

He could feel her curious gaze and can already imagine the expression on her face without even having a look. Rounded, expectant eyes, raised eyebrows, slightly slipped glasses and sunset on messy hair. And a brief, quick glance in her direction was enough for him to confirm the image in his mind. “Nothing,” he replied tersely.

A lie.

Hanji hummed like she didn’t believe him. She hadn’t, of course. And it didn’t take her long to move her interrogation even further. “Did you have a bad day at work?”

“I always have a bad day at work.”

“Come on. No way it’s that bad.”

“It is that bad.”

“What exactly makes you so irritated about it?”

“Everything, simply.”

“Then why don’t you just quit it?”

Levi paused, carrying his eyes slowly at her. There it was again. That easy smile. The one that was soft and subtle, the one that twinkled her eyes and touched somewhere within his heart. Somewhere far away, deserted, and empty. He didn’t like to accept it, but it moved something in his soul too. Like a leaf which had long forgotten the touch of the wind and lay motionless on lifeless, immobile sand and now meeting the gentle touch of a breeze. “I can’t,” he managed to say.

“Why?”

“Because I need money.”

“You’ll find another job.”

“There is no guarantee it won’t be as shitty as this one, maybe even worse.”

This time it was Hanji who hesitated for a second before responding, “Why don’t you like your current job?” she asked, and she was curious about the answer as it was clear from the ever-present glint in her eyes. Levi wondered, maybe for the thousandth time, about why she cared and why she seemed so genuinely interested in everything he had to say. And he wondered, quite unreasonably yet inevitably if it meant something, anything at all.

“Because my boss is the very definition of an asshole.”

“Oh?” Hanji said, voice hoarse, clearly amused. “Is that the reason why you seem so riled up?”

Levi grunted instead of giving a verbal, clearer answer. Even remembering the look on that sorry excuse of a man’s smug face while he said there was nothing he could do for an increase in salary which Levi very much deserved was enough to make his headache grow even stronger. He closed his eyes, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Right,” Hanji responded, “Sorry.”

He didn’t want her to feel sorry, he realized. It caused a twisted, uneasy feeling in his stomach. So, he decided to change the subject. “My head is killing me.”

As expected, she easily accommodated. “Would you like some painkillers?”

He shook his head, “I already took some.”

“I see,” Hanji said and for a while, the only thing he heard was the howl of the engine, the chatter of the other passengers, the robotic voice of the lady announcing the name of the bus stops they were getting nearer to and the hammer like pulsing inside his head. There shouldn’t be much to their bus stop but there was still some traffic as understood from the regular stop-and-go of the bus. So probably it was going to take more or less 20-25 minutes for them to arrive and 30 for him to take a nice, hot shower, change into fresh evening clothes and put his head on his soft, beloved pillow.

“You know, legend says,” Hanji started because that was the longest time interval in which she could stay silent. It was unnaturally long even. She must’ve been enjoying the view outside. He figured she liked sunsets. Somehow, it suited her. “That Pythagoras’s student Hippasus of Metapontum said to have discovered the irrational number √2 was punished as an act of divine retribution.”

Levi had gotten used to Hanji giving him strange and most possibly unnecessary and at times admittedly intriguing information which she seemed to be overly excited and passionate about. And he listened mostly because there was nothing better for him to do other than watching exhausted passengers and disgusting teenagers displaying public affection in the middle of the bus. But also, because there was something almost addicting in her frantic hand gestures, wide, brilliant eyes and that bright smile that made it hard for him to shut her up.

But now, he found himself staring at her, stunned, “For real?”

“For real,” Hanji confirmed, nodding her head along for emphasis.

“Damn,” Levi said, forgetting his headache for a moment. “What’s with √2?

“It’s an irrational number but rational numbers were something almost deemed holy by the Pythagoreans, and they had absolute dominance, or so they thought,” Hanji explained, pushing her glasses up her nose. “√2 turned their whole world upside down because it was unexplainable, it had no end. It doesn’t have an exact numerical value. There is literally not enough paper in the entire universe to write it down completely. It was a shocking revelation, especially to Pythagoras himself. Some say Hippasus was drowned because the gods punished him, and some say it was Pythagoras who killed him.”*

Hanji’s eyes were focused on the glass doors of the bus while she was speaking but then she directed her eyes towards him only to see the surprised look on his face. She laughed, “You look so shocked.”

Levi scoffed, “I thought the Greeks were supposed to be wise.”

“They are wise.”

“I am pretty convinced otherwise.”

“People react in unexpected ways when their whole world is upside down,” Hanji told him, head tilted sideways just slightly. The setting sun disappeared behind a building for a brief moment before reappearing again, illuminating the side of her face. “Don’t you think?”

And Levi thought and thought and pondered about it even after going home, as he took a nice, hot shower; ate dinner and later that night while watching the ceiling, hoping for the shadows to form coherent sentences and give him an answer. He thought if he understood what she meant if he had that kind of a moment when his whole world was upside down and he didn’t know what to do, how to react, how to live from then on. He wondered what he would do if he were to come up against something as such. Something that turned his whole world upside down, something that would make him do stupid things, irrelevant, unexpected things that would maybe make him feel human again.

And he wondered if that something might also be someone as well.

*

Erwin had learned about Nile and Marry’s engagement from an Instagram post. A photo of a happy and grinning Marry who was showing the diamond ring on her finger and Nile who was still kneeling in front of her, holding the little, red open box of the engagement ring and smiling up at her fiancé.

Levi eyed Erwin, who was holding a cigarette, his third, between his lips and observing the photo with narrowed eyes as he inhaled the smoke deeply, then released it slowly. Shaking off the ash of the cigarette with his index finger, he sighed. “I need a drink.”

As it turned out, what he needed wasn’t just a drink.

“Slow down,” Levi warned him as the blond man lowered his fourth glass of whisky on the black, marble surface of the bar they were currently in.

Erwin gestured for the bartender to fill his glass once more, ignoring his remark. Levi sighed. It was Saturday, hence there was no work tomorrow. Mike hadn’t come with them, saying that he was too sleepy to choose a night out over his beloved bed. Levi knew better though. He just hadn’t wanted to deal with a drunk-ass Erwin. Sneaky asshole.

The sound of the lighter snatched him out of his thoughts. Levi watched Erwin as he lighted up his cigarette. He had lost count of how much he had smoked today. Erwin usually wasn’t that much into it but since he seemed like he needed the quite temporary relief it provided Levi didn’t make any comment on his unusual desire towards it. He placed one between his lips instead. Then securing it between his two fingers, he leaned over a little for Erwin to light it up. Flicking the lighter, Erwin held it near the end of his cigarette. Levi drew in a deep breath, heard the faint crackle at the bottom and felt the way the fume filling inside his chest. He had decided not to drink tonight. At least not much.

Lost in thought, Levi shook off the ashes with his thumb. He guessed the reason behind Erwin’s current, sombre state, but wasn’t sure whether to make a comment on it or not. His relationship with Marie was something Levi only had heard of, and Erwin had never given him much detail. He observed the blond man’s side profile, the thoughtful stare he had fixed on his half-full glass, the cigarette dangling between his fingers, forgotten.

After giving it some thought, he decided to ask. “You still love her?”

Erwin didn’t seem to be taken aback by his quite straightforward question. Calmly, he placed the cigarette between his lips to take another deep drag. And when he spoke again after he blew out the smoke, there was no hesitation in his voice, “No.”

Levi felt relieved, for some reason. He never knew what to say when it came to anything romantic-related. He had no such experience except for a couple of hookups over the years which never went beyond one night—whether it was good or bad—and he had never gotten emotionally, and romantically for that matter, attached to anyone for his whole life.

But now, just as these thoughts crossed his mind a certain brunette accompanied them. And Levi let himself, for a brief millisecond, to ponder about her kind, brown eyes, warm, genuine smile and soothing voice. Her curious mind, her cleverness, clumsiness and foolishness. Like newly brewed tea spilling all over the surface of a table, he felt something warm spreading all over his body.

Then shaking his head, he shooed her image out of his mind. Frowning and scolding himself inside he reached for his glass of whisky and gulped down the last remnants in it. Then carrying his focus back to the actual subject of the conversation, he asked, “What’s the problem then?”

Erwin finished his own glass, but his eyes didn’t leave the little pieces of melted ice inside it, and they moved as he circled the glass with his hand. “I feel stuck.”

“What do you mean?”

His friend eventually looked at him. “I don’t think I’m living the life I want to live.”

Levi scoffed, taking a drag from his cigarette, and let the white fume leave his mouth lazily, “Can’t believe an Instagram post got you into an existential crisis.”

Erwin laughed, pressing the butt of his cigarette on the ashtray. Taking one last drag Levi followed him. “I’ve been thinking about it for some time,” Erwin went on, his words melding, already tipsy. “Maybe I’m just being greedy.”

“You are a greedy bastard for sure.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I was greedy enough.”

“Don’t think too much about it,” said Levi, pushing his empty glass away from him. He wasn’t a good adviser. Though he felt like he understood what Erwin meant, deep down. No one ever lived the life they wanted to live. It was in humans’ nature to ask for more. “It’s the way of the world.”

Erwin snorted; he had already knocked another one over. Cheeks and ears red, he lit up one more cigarette. “You should’ve been a therapist.”

Reaching out Levi snatched the thing out of his hand to put it out in the ashtray. “Hey!” Erwin protested, making a move to stop him. Levi slapped his hand and got on his feet, pulling his friend along with him by holding his arm. He dropped Erwin’s coat on his shoulders, left a couple of banknotes on top of the counter and pushed the whining man towards the exit. Enough drama for today.

Outside, the streets were luminous and fulgurant. Trees bare of leaves had been adorned with superficial yet colourful little lights. The air was chilly, autumn cold causing goosebumps on his skin through his thick clothing. While they were waiting for a taxi, with Erwin practically stooping over him with his arm around Levi’s shoulders, and Levi gritting his teeth tight enough to break a stone and trying to hold his feet glued to the ground so that he didn’t stumble toward the road with near-to-drunk Erwin—he saw her.

It wasn’t much of a coincidence. The bar was about fifteen minutes away from his house by car and during one of their earlier conversations he had learned that she lived nearby. Across the road at one of the cafes lined throughout the street, she was sitting on one of the tables outside. With two men and a raven black-haired woman. One of the men had dark blond hair and a beard of the same colour. He wore glasses—silly looking if you’d asked Levi—and had an arm around Hanji.

It shouldn’t have bothered him. He barely even knew her; they couldn’t even be considered friends. Yet as he watched the way she laughed at something the man just said, and the wind carried the sound till it reached his ears he felt a fire coming alive inside his stomach. Bright and vicious. Flames ascended, up to his throat. He then found himself scolding, chiding himself. It shouldn’t have bothered him. Then why was he feeling like this?

Another burst of laughter rose from the table they were sitting on. This time because of something she had said. Levi watched her, slightly bewildered, realising now that she is among her friends, the people she was familiar with, she shone even brighter. Just like the lights wrapped around the naked branches of the autumn trees. Colourful and radiant.

Hanji looked up, just then, as if she had sensed the way he watched her, like he was hypnotised, captured by some kind of wonder he hadn’t realized was just before his eyes all this time. And he saw the moment her expression changed from surprise to recognition. The corners of her mouth moved upwards then she raised a hand most probably to salute him.

And Levi did the thing he was the most masterful at. He looked away, choosing to ignore, and forget that he even saw her at all.

“Levi,” Erwin murmured, his cheek pressed on top of his head. Levi had found out, much to his discontent, that Erwin was unusually chummy when he was drunk. “You’re a good friend.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Levi said, rolling his eyes. He was giving an intense battle not to carry his stare back to where she was. But he was afraid to face the possible disappointment on her face.

“I know you care about me.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You love me more than you love Mike, don’t you?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I hate that bastard.”

Erwin snorted and then started to laugh uncontrollably. Levi sighed. He was going to kill the said bastard first thing on Monday. He was sure of it.

Much to his relief the taxi finally came to a stop in front of them. Levi helped Erwin get onto the back seat, with much struggle. After he somehow managed to settle him for good, he got ready to get in himself. Yet just before that, he risked another glance at the table across the road only to find her already staring at him. It lasted for a split second, for this time it was her who moved her eyes which were sombre and thoughtful in a way that made him uneasy, away from him.

*

Sunday passed by in a state of ennui. After he safely dropped Erwin at his place last night he got back home, drained and vexed for reasons he couldn’t find in himself to unveil and ultimately—inevitably—face. He woke up when the sun was high up in the sky, the birds had long stopped chirping and the crows had taken over with their high-pitched croaking. It was quite natural, given the fact that he had spent the whole night lying on his bed, on his back watching the dark ceiling or on his side staring at the immobile curtain and listening to the tick-tocks of the clock on the hall.

He didn’t have much of anything to do. After a brief and insufficient breakfast, he talked to his mom on the phone, then vacuumed the house, cleaned the bathroom, read a book then dropped it halfway because he couldn’t focus. And he basically spent the rest of the day just going through Netflix to find something decent to watch and eventually opted for watching a ridiculous rom-com and eating popcorn without actually tasting or enjoying it. He then fell asleep on the couch, with only the company of the noises coming from the TV. Overly cheerful and superficial laughter in the background, opposing the one in his dream.

*

The first day of that week was another rainy day and given his current sombre and already uneasy mood, he was displeased with the weather even more than usual. Yet while walking closer and closer to the bus stop his heartbeats got inevitably faster and his nerves tenser. To be completely honest he had thought about taking a taxi rather than using the bus this time but being the grown, middle-aged, goddamn adult that he was whose teenage years had been long lost and forgotten, he had chosen not to.

But when he spotted Hanji waiting under the shelter of the bus stop, wearing that ugly, lilac raincoat with her hands inside of her pockets and absently playing around with a little rock on the pavement, rolling it with the nose of her shoe and her face, like the sky over their heads, dreary and pensive, hiding the sun behind dark clouds Levi thought, briefly, if he had made the right choice.

A bus came to a stop in front of the bus stop and the few other passengers got in as Levi paused, steps away from where Hanji stood, holding his umbrella over his head and watched her as she watched the bus and the people getting in one by one, thoughtfully. Soon after the bus left, she blinked, her mouth hanging open, and eyes growing wide as she realized a little too late that it was her bus, their bus and both of them had missed it.

“Shit,” she cursed, taking a few, redundant steps forwards and exposing herself to the rain and looking after the bus she had just missed with forlorn and remorseful eyes. It wasn’t raining heavily but still, her hair was getting wetter slowly as well as her glasses and her face when she laid her head backwards.

And Levi didn’t know why he stood there rather than walking closer to her as he usually did. But he didn’t move and couldn’t speak. He didn’t know why his heart was beating so loudly and why his head felt like he had been caught in a tornado, spinning unreasonably. And he thought about irrational numbers, Hippasus of Metapontum and divine retribution. He thought about how he hated the rain, loathed the way it wetted the cuffs of his trousers and now he witnessed how she absorbed it, eyes closed, surrendered and even though she had just missed the bus and would have to wait for maybe another thirty minutes. And while the rain washed over her face recklessly, she smiled like she didn’t care.

Levi let the umbrella down, slowly. Raindrops caressed his face, wetted his hair, and the wind ruffled his hair. Maybe it was the way of nature loving somebody. Loving so tenderly because she loved it just as kindly.

“People react in unexpected ways when their whole world is upside down, don’t you think?”

“Hey,” he greeted her, his face wet and hair sticking to his forehead. His umbrella was folded and secure inside his palm and his heartbeats calm because he knew why he did what he did.

Hanji’s eyes were shaped like two surprised circles when she saw him standing next to her. She had taken her glasses off for they had no function whatsoever anymore. “Hey,” she smiled but Levi realized it was a forced smile. “Looks like we both missed the car, huh?”

“Yeah,” he murmured.

An uncomfortable yet inevitable silence settled between them during which his mind was filled with a vicious rumble as he thought about the other night. Levi wanted to apologize for ignoring her and to tell her that it had nothing to do with her. It was just him and his inability to make friends or maybe his cowardness to admit to himself that he didn’t want her just as a friend. And he wanted to ask about that man too, the one who had an arm around her shoulders and to learn what he was to Hanji.

Silenced stretched for so long that in the end Hanji cleared her throat, “Maybe we should take a taxi—”

“You said,” he cut off her sentence. That was a thing they would take care of later just like how they were still standing under the rain while the bus stop was merely centimetres away from them and plus, he had an umbrella in his hand. But they were topics to be discussed later. “You said people react in unexpected ways.”

Levi stared at her, his lips pressed, eyes narrowed –because of the rain—and hair wet. He was so obviously, so stupidly tense. And he waited for the gears in her head to settle for good and as he followed from the look in her eyes –confused and hesitating—it took a while. But then she nodded, “Yeah?”

“That’s why—” he looked away; he felt the tips of his ears burning. “You know. I didn’t want to ignore you. I just didn’t know what to do.”

A brief pause. Then she said, “Oh!”

Levi glared at her, blinking. “What?”

“You’re saying—” she made a stupid hang gesture while she was trying to organize her thoughts. “So, you’re apologizing?”

“I guess?”

“Oh!” she said again and abruptly started laughing. Levi watched her, bewildered. “I thought I offended you!”

He blinked. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, you were with your friend. I thought—I don’t know.” Hanji sighed, seemingly relieved while Levi stood there, dumbfounded, realizing that he had misunderstood the whole thing. “And I was with my college friends. I thought that you didn’t want to get in all the trouble of meeting everyone there and I understand! Totally.”

“Well,” he said, his mind felt numb. “I don’t really like meeting other people.”

Hanji laughed, nodding. It felt genuine and all of a sudden, his chest felt warm. “I figured.”

The rain had ceased. The sun peaked from between the dark clouds, and its rays fell on Hanji’s wet hair, highlighting the chestnut strands and stars twinkled inside her eyes. His heart throbbed inside his chest like a ping-pong ball. Levi realized then that he never knew what its real function was. Other than pumping blood to his body. But it wasn’t only there to keep him alive, it was also there to make him feel alive. And that’s what he lacked throughout his life.

“Would you like to have some coffee after work?”

His sudden and unexpected question quite understandably startled her but she recovered easily. Her smile widened. Levi suspected it had something to do with the blush he felt spreading on his cheeks. She might not know it but asking that question had taken at least ten years from his life span.

“I’d like that,” Hanji replied, her voice was soft, velvet-like. And Levi felt something strange in his stomach. Like a bunch of sparrows flipping their wings. It was an odd feeling, but it was nice. “But first let’s get a taxi, shall we?”

*

A few weeks passed. The “coffee dates” –Hanji had named them so—had become a routine though it happened at most one or two times a week. Their schedules didn’t always match with each other and sometimes Levi had to leave work later than he normally did and there were times Hanji would be so sleepy she had barely kept her head up on the way home. But in spite of himself, Levi was looking forward to having some free time so that he could listen to Hanji talking briskly almost nonstop about her research or something she learned from the book she was currently reading or had just finished. It was strangely soothing. During those moments she would be surrounded by a bizarre, almost otherworldly aura as if she was the first mortal to have tasted ambrosia and had gotten drunk with merely a dribble of it.

Even more strange was her listening to him with nearly the same caution with both her palms supporting her cheeks, elbows on top of the table and lips curled with a gentle, sweet smile while behind her glasses the reflection of yellow, dim café lights danced inside her eyes. Levi wasn’t a talker. He didn’t like giving unnecessary information and didn’t enjoy receiving it too for that matter. Yet with Hanji he found himself talking maybe just a little bit too much.

“You know when you talk like that,” Hanji had said to him one day after they left the café and were walking quietly home. The weather was refreshing though a little chilly. The streets were more or less empty, and on the dark, starless sky the moon was almost full. Hanji was wearing a green coat and flat-footed, brown boots under her high-waisted trousers. Her cheeks were the colour of pink, spring flowers and her lips a pretty shade of red. “I feel like I was given a key to a room full of wonders.”

This is what people mean when they say they are falling, Levi had thought staring at her face, brilliant with superficial city lights, burning with a fire innate in her. Falling so hard yet so slow. It feels like it will never end.

*

i’m thinking about going for a walk, wanna join?

Levi stared at the text on his phone screen and then at the pile of work he had to take care of today. There was a high chance he wouldn’t be able to leave at his usual hour. Disappointed and overly irritated he took his phone to write a reply.

go ahead. it’ll take me a while to leave

He left the phone and then turned back to his computer. Everyone had started to pack up. The office was filled with the ruckus of the end of the day. Soon they would all go, and everything would settle back to silence again.

His phone vibrated with a new text message.

:(

He couldn’t help the corners of his mouth stir upwards and he hid it behind his teacup, taking a long sip. Just when he put the cup back in its place, she sent another message.

how long will it take?

Levi glanced at the clock on the right corner of his computer screen. 5.38 pm.

He typed a reply: two hours at least

Hanji replied quickly with a crying emoji which again made him hide his expanding smile behind his teacup. Then she sent another text saying, lmk if you leave early

If only Levi thought grimly then typed a short ok and turned back to his work.

*

Almost two and a half hours later he stepped out into a pleasant, autumn evening. It was somewhat chilly, but it felt good after being stuck inside the office for so long. He decided to light up a cigarette while walking towards the bus stop.

He had taken at most two drags when he spotted someone sitting at the bench of the bus stop and one more until he realized that it was Hanji.

He was so shocked that he almost forgot to let the smoke out after taking it in. Part of the fume went out of his nostrils and the cigarette dangled between his fingers. “Hanji?”

She had been strolling down on her phone. She was surprised too at first when she heard him calling out to her. Yet she quickly recovered and jumped off to her feet, grinning widely. “Hey, Levi!”

Levi was still too stunned to speak. It took him a while to ask, “What are doing here?”

Hanji shrugged, putting her hands inside the pockets of her denim jacket. She was wearing a thick hoodie underneath it, but Levi doubted it provided enough warmth for her to wait outside in this weather. “I was waiting for you.”

Her cheekbones as well as the tip of her nose were almost red, so it wasn’t that hard to guess but he had to ask, “For how long?”

“Umm,” she glanced at her watch briefly. “Almost an hour, I guess.”

“An hour!” Levi yelled, unable to hide his shock. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Well, not really—”

“You want to get sick that bad?”

“I mean, it’s not that cold—”

“Tch,” he grunted. He put out his half-smoked cigarette in a nearby trash bin and then threw it inside. “It’s autumn idiot, of course, it is that cold.”

“You know,” Hanji said, and Levi sensed her walking closer to him. He glanced sideways to see her smiling, her eyes wrinkling at the sides. “You have a weird way of caring about people.”

He looked away, feeling the rising heat on the tip of his ears and that weird feeling in his stomach coming alive again. Little birds chirping, doing a wild dance inside. Then he started to walk, and Hanji joined, falling into steps with him silently. As much as he enjoyed listening to her rambling on and on, he also liked to be just quiet with her. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It reminded him of the quietness of winter and snow. Calm and peaceful.

“Say, Levi,” Hanji started, following the few minutes of their silent walk. Levi looked at her curiously, searching her face to guess what she had to say. “What do you think would happen if the sun never existed?”

Levi bent his head backwards to look at the sky. It was dark and had a lack of stars tonight. Only a few of them sparkled here and there. “How the hell would I know?”

“It’s a hypothetical question,” Hanji explained as if talking to a five-year-old.

“Thanks for letting me know,” Levi murmured, sighing and staring back at the road ahead of them. What if the sun never existed, huh? “It would be cold.”

Hanji chuckled, “Duh,” she grinned when Levi glared at her. “What else?”

He grumbled, overly annoyed but he figured he couldn’t say no to her. “It would be dark.”

“Hmm…”

“Lifeless.”

“Obviously.”

“It would…” he trailed off, glancing at Hanji to find her watching him with amused eyes and an equally amused smile on her lips. He thought about his life before he met her and how boring and stagnant everything was. There was no difference between day and night, sleeping and being awake, going out or staying inside, living or not living. Everything felt the same and nothing made him feel anything. There was no colour around him, no light, no warmth. Suddenly he felt like he had been talking about himself.

At last, to sum it all he said, “Apocalypse.”

She laughed boisterously. “Most probably, yeah.” Then she went on, “What if a universe without the earth?”

“Peaceful,” he said darkly.

“And what if there were no stars?”

He looked up again, feeling mournful all of a sudden. “Dull.”

They were going through a walking trail. The number of people around was little and the lampposts on the side of the road along with the trees created a soft, tranquil atmosphere. There was seemingly no end to Hanji’s hypothetical questions, but Levi realized he enjoyed answering them though his answers were barely sufficient and absolute nonsense. But Hanji didn’t seem to care if her bubbling laughter and the wide grin on her face were any evidence. He thought he liked the sound of her laughter especially when she laughed at something he said. It made him feel warm as if the sun had decided to move inside his ribcage.

“What do you think would happen if we had never met?”

Levi hesitated before answering, “I’d rather not think about that.”

“Why not?” Hanji asked curiously, her eyes wide, trying to find an answer in his eyes. Levi observed her features, trying to decide whether or not he should say that if they’d never met, he would go on his life like an earth that had never met the sun.

“Because I’m glad we did,” he told her instead. “I really am.”

Hanji exhaled, creating a white, puff of smoke. The light of the moon was filtering through the branches of the trees and the lampposts weren’t quite luminous enough but even so he could see the moment the expression in her eyes changed to something more sentimental, solid. It was so tangible that Levi felt like he could catch them with his hands and hold them inside his fists like something so precious, so rare. Like pearls hidden in the depths of the oceans.

“Levi,” she breathed then, her voice reflecting the emotions her eyes carried. “Not hypothetically. What do you think would happen if I were to kiss you now?”

He didn’t notice he had been holding his breath until he exhaled with a long, shivering sigh. He wasn’t even aware that they had stopped walking until he realized he couldn’t move his legs. His heart was beating so fast he barely heard his own breaths. All around them trees danced, leaves whispered secret lyrics to the wind and Hanji was looking at him, waiting for him to do something or maybe just to say something.

It took him seconds which felt like an eternity until finally his mind started functioning again. “Only one way to find out,” he whispered, hoping his voice wasn’t lost to the wind.

Her chest moved with a sigh of relief. “Right,” she whispered too, her lips curving with a pretty smile. Then she walked close enough to him to grab his shoulders and bring her face near to his. His fingers twitched on his sides, and he couldn’t look away from her lips. “Brace yourself,” she said, her breath warm on his mouth and his cheeks.

Levi only had the time to let out a soft chuckle before Hanji closed the little distance between them to finally, finally, press her lips tightly to his.

Her lips were soft, hot, and tasted like the raspberry-flavoured candy she carried in her bag all the time. It was dizzying. And as if a match falling on a puddle of gasoline, a hunger came to life inside him. Sudden and unexpected. It moved fast, travelling through his veins to the tips of his fingers, setting his skin on fire. He couldn’t control his body, couldn’t stop his arms from wrapping around her waist to pull her against him closer and closer until he felt the warmth of her body and the fast rise and fall of her chest. He followed the movements of her lips and chased after her when she parted from him long enough to breathe.

Seconds or minutes after when they pulled apart, panting, he watched her smile, addictively. “Go out with me,” she said, out of breath.

Levi had to reluctantly pull apart to look her in the eyes to see if she was serious. He blinked, “Huh?”

“Be my boyfriend,” she smirked, one of her hands was holding his nape and her thumb moved up and down on his skin. It distracted him.

Levi thought he understood now what it meant for your whole world to be upside down. He felt as if he had the sky underneath his feet, vast and boundless. But infinity didn’t scare him. Falling didn’t seem like the worst option when the clouds seem like a safe place to land.

“Okay,” he whispered.

Hanji grinned, her face illuminating with a different kind of light. Happiness, he thought. It was easy to recognize when he himself felt the same, so profoundly that he was sure it was going to keep him awake all night.

“This was easier than I thought,” Hanji said as she took one step back and he grudgingly let go of her. But then she reached out to grab his hand, tightly.

Levi stared down at their intertwined hands then up at her with inquiring eyes. “What do you mean?”

They started to walk again. “I’ve been planning this since the moment I saw you,” Hanji explained, laughing when she saw the stunned look on his face. “Don’t be so surprised. You’re quite attractive for a man your height.”

His shock quickly switched with annoyance as he glared at her harshly and tried to free his hand from hers. But tightening her hand around his, Hanji didn’t let him, “Just joking,” she said, chuckling.

“You have a shitty sense of humour.”

“But I still got you, didn’t I?”

“Don’t be so sure of yourself,” Levi said, blankly. “I can change my mind any moment.”

“Sorry,” Hanji smiled, victoriously, “Too late now.”

“Tch,” he grunted, suppressing the smile threatening to take over his lips and turning his head to the other side to hide the redness he felt in his ears. “Lame.”

Hanji gasped, “How dare you!”

He held her hand tighter and thought about the nights he took this road to walk home with a lonely soul and an exhausted heart, with the mere company of his own shadow stretching before him. Then he looked ahead at their shadows on the pavement, two silhouettes hand in hand. And this time he couldn’t stop his lips to curl upwards to shape a little, soft smile.

He could get used to this.