#the body here is made of scrap used papers I had on my desk

[amaliatheartist]

And all the juvie halls, and the Ritalin rats

Ask angels made from neon and fucking garbage

Scream out,

[nicestgirlonline]

Steal My Sunshine

Pairing: FEDRA!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: noncon elements, abuse of authority, forced relationship DNI if you find these upsetting!

Summary: In the dark, dismal post apocalyptic world, you made the mistake of being a bright spot in Sergeant Barnes's day...

@the-slumberparty Genre's Old and New Warm-Up: Here’s my genre generator warm up and my first entry for the Slumber Party! I got Horror and Authority Figure! I’ve been obsessed with The Last of Us so I decided to go with TLOU themed AU! Very loosely related, no fast fungus zombies in this one. Very excited for the slumber party, can’t wait to hear what you think!

Word count: did my best to try and keep it under 1k since it's just a warm-up, coming in at a cool 1610 words oops

This the first fic I’ve posted to tumblr since high school (yikes) so I’d really love some feedback! 

Enjoy!

“Good morning Sergeant Barnes, ” she said to him with a big smile. It felt so foreign, so antiquated. No one had a good morning in QZ. Sergeant Barnes was awestruck. The line for work assignments was a shit rotation for FEDRA soldiers, he was placed there temporarily after a violent encounter with some civilians. Riding the fucking desk for three weeks before he could go back to enforcement duties. 

But when She showed up in line, it was like he was seeing the sun for the first time. She glowed, with beauty and goodness. He wanted to sit and bask in her warmth forever. He was lost in his mind, She stood awkwardly in line, shifting from side to side hoping to hurry him along. 

“Uh, good morning. Sorry, what were you looking for?” Realizing he was staring at her, he glanced down at his ledger of jobs they needed bodies for. 

“Are there any street cleaning jobs left?” She asked so sweetly Bucky thought he’d cry. The only jobs that were open were all disgusting, body disposal, sewer work, scrap collection.  A woman like her shouldn’t be doing such filthy work. 

“We have an opening at City Hall. Clerk work. Pays well.”

“Oh, I’ve never done clerk work before um, will I need any training?” She placed her hand over her mouth to cover her surprise but Bucky could see right through that. She was so pleased, that he had gotten her the job. He quickly erased a few things, sorry Citizen Abernathy, he was no longer getting into city hall. She handed him her citizenship papers, he gripped them like they were precious jewels. He memorized her name, her address, her previous jobs. Most importantly, where his eyes went first, Marital status: single

With a bit of a spring in her step she left the line, all her official work assignments clutched to her chest.  Bucky couldn’t help but watch her as she left. Her little skip made her ass jiggle, he grinned to himself. The next citizen in line cleared their throat. The older woman glared at him for his lewd behavior. His mouth returned to its usual scowl. This was the world he was used to. No sunshine in here. 

+++

Street patrols with Steve were usually just a lot of bullshitting. Steve and Bucky would stroll together, recounting old war stories with clickers or encounters with the Fireflies. There were hardly any domestic disturbances here, the Fireflies little resistance movement had all been stomped out thanks largely in part to the two of them. Their unit had been deep in the shit at the Manhattan QZ before being moved to Pittsburgh QZ to set it straight. Now that things had been smoothed out it was the most depressing place they could’ve been reassigned to. 

“Better than Boston,” Steve would always say that made Bucky roll his eyes. He wasn’t wrong though. The two were walking along the repaved main street, walking past the long lines for rations at the local store. Bucky looked at all the glum, resigned faces. This was the world they all lived in now. What was the point of keeping this world safe if this was all they would have?

But then, like the sun peaking out from behind gray clouds, he saw Her. His Sunshine! 

She was leaving the store with a large paper bag, almost skipping again. She had a smile on her face again. He could see himself, walking arm and arm with his sunshine, bringing food home for dinner. He would hold her close and whisper all the things he’d do to her once they got back. She would shyly bat her eyelashes, so embarrassed by his lusty proposals in public. His heart began to swell. Part of him knew it was strange, he had barely spoken to this girl, yet a fiery passion consumed him. It had been years of nothing but violence and fighting for him. Sometimes he barely felt human himself, but she made him feel alive again.

“...could hardly believe the size of this one, barely even human just a face, and the rest was fungus covering the floor. Buck? You listening to me Buck?” Steve elbowed his friend who was lost in his thoughts. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sounds real gnarly.” He brushed his friend off, he headed straight towards his Sunshine. “That citizen looks suspicious to you? I think we need a random search.” Steve just raised an eyebrow and followed his partner, happy to have a little action on the usual boring patrol. 

+++

Your week-long stint at City Hall had given you extra spending money for the first time since you could remember. You couldn’t help but walk with a little bounce in your step, what crazy luck you’d had.

Two Fedra soldiers, both in full tactical gear, machine guns strapped to their sides were approaching you. You froze in place as their steel-toed boots stopped directly in front of you. 

“Excuse me, citizens.” The soldier’s timbre was low and serious. You were not a troublemaker, you only ever had contraband at parties never actually on your person. 

“I-Is there a problem?” You asked as sweetly as you could. You met the icy blue eyes of the officer who smirked. You looked down at the name on his chest, Sergeant Barnes? From work assignment?  One hand on his gun still, he reached out the other hand towards you. 

“Identification please.” He requested. You placed down your bag of food only for the other soldier to snatch it up. You reached for your purse and pulled out your citizenship card. Barnes grabbed it with a flourish.

“Hey!” You cried out as the blond one started to go through your food for the week, a can of beans falling to cobblestones and denting. 

“Random checkpoint. You’re not resisting us are you?” He asked, his tone dripping with smug victory. You bunched your hands into fists trying to stay calm. 

“Officers, please what’s wrong?” Sergeant Barnes chuckled. He went to hand you back your ID but pulled it away in the second from your grasp. 

“There have been a couple of red flags on your paperwork. We are just doing our due diligence to keep the QZ safe. Now, I’m sorry ma’am but I’m going to need you to come with me.” He grabbed you by the arm, his partner still holding onto your groceries. He pulled you off into an alleyway where he slammed you roughly against the brick building. You winced and went to grab the back of your head as sharp pain began to bloom. 

“There must be a mistake I-I haven’t done anything.” Tears began to blot your eyes. You raked your brain trying to think of what could have caused a red flag. You had smoked weed once at a party, which wasn’t even a Firefly party as far as you knew, you kept out of trouble. 

Barnes began to nuzzle the side of your face, his nose tracing along your cheek to your hair. He deeply inhaled, the sudden air tickling your ears. 

“I know Sunshine, I know, you're a good girl aren’t you.” He breathed. Your blood froze in your veins. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the wall above your head. “There are a few red flags though. Like, your marital status is single. No boyfriend then? Why would a beautiful young woman be all alone, at the end of the world? Unless you’re too focused on revolutionary activities to find a man.” He wasn’t making any sense. You weren’t a rebel, you were just a poor street cleaner, you didn’t have a black mark on your record, you didn’t even have messages to send out to the other QZs.  You feared you knew his true intentions. 

“Sergeant Barnes --”

“Call me Bucky.” He gave you a wink that sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Bucky, I don’t have a boyfriend but not because I’m a Firefly. I-If you let me go I swear you’ll never see me again, I’ll be so straight and narrow I’ll be invisible, you don’t have to worry about me.”

He clicked his tongue. “I don’t think you understand Sunshine. The last thing I want is to never see you again.” That was what you had feared. “You see, it's not me that’s suspicious of you angel, it's my partner back there. So how about I give you hand here.”

His hand slipped down and groped at your breasts, your breath hitched in your throat as you suppressed a whine. Bucky looked deliriously happy. He looked into your eyes and you were frightened at how intense they were. 

“How about you and I start going together, much less suspicious for a woman to be dating an officer of the law. You wouldn’t have a moral objection to that right?”

You nodded your head. What else could you do? His eyes sparked with excitement as you agreed to his bargain. 

“Why not have our first date right now, since you’re free.” He began to fiddle with his belt and you squeezed your eyes shut so he wouldn’t be able to see your tears. 

You thought there was no way life could get worse since the outbreak. You were wrong. Your fate has been sealed the moment you smiled at this deranged, lonely man.

[whatisbirds]

Limits of an Invitation - Anastasis

Being bound by blood without losing your head is a hard-won skill. This is what Anatol believes. He is also convinced he excels at it... something that his first meeting with the Prince quickly disproves.

Just realized I spaced posting chapter six here. So- here ya go!

If you're new, heya hi! This is part of a longer fic/series, you can start from the beginning here. If you're not new, welcome back! Feel free to hop over the line and read below.

“Will you be a lamb for me?”

The memory rang like a taunt, rattled around in the far corners of Anatol’s brain as Eliza’s footsteps faded out of earshot.  Spread through him like frost, turning him sluggish. The office fell in and out of focus as he succumbed to rumination.

A year. An agonizing, vitae-starved year.

That was how long it had been since they last spoke.

His throat ached. He felt deader than usual.

“Anatol?”

The fiend dragged his attention back into the present. Back onto Victor. “...yes?”

Victor leaned against the doorframe, professional air abating somewhat now that Eliza had stepped out. “...everyone present and accounted for?”

“Unfortunately.” Ana muttered, making a conscious effort not to dig his nails into the leather arm of his office chair, “Also. As much as I… appreciate your enthusiasm for educating the next generation, I will have to insist you never pull that shit again.” 

Victor sighed. “In hindsight, I can see how that might’ve felt… pointed. But I assure you it wasn’t my intention to–”

“Rub my nose in it?”

“...to be insensitive to your current position.” To Victor’s credit, he didn’t shrink away. “Speaking of–how was your meeting with Hermia?”

“Mr. Stamatin?”

“Aye.”

“Please, Come inside.”

The subtle heat, the faint gravitational drag that had radiated from Hermia's office abated. While the Beast’s hackles lowered, it did not cease its nervous pace in the back of his mind. Its claws dug long and sharp into the reptilian part of his brain. It may not understand reason, but it certainly knew when blood is on the horizon. No, not just blood. Vitae. 

It’d been too long.

Its grip made him lightheaded.

The air hung heavy with the scent of time eating paper pulp, ink and inches of dust. Anatol grounded himself in it. Set his beast to gnaw on the sensation, freeing his mind from his ravenous appetite. He wondered how old this relative stranger was. Arrogantly, he had assumed she was young. Now he found himself struck with a strange nostalgia of a long loved space, an aged passion he had admittedly forgotten existed outside of his own tight circle.

“You may sit.”

Hermia was at her desk with her back turned to him. An incredible gesture of trust… or foolish confidence. A bitter scrap of ego hissed that he should pluck her head off her shoulders now that it was within reach. Let the past pent up year uncoil at once, eviscerate them both. This bestial temptation was quickly diverted by the mantra gifted to him from his sire: Let them think they won. Let them think us weak. Let them think us desperate and without leadership. 

Anatol reclined back, waiting on the Prince with a patient smile.

“En- thralling. ” Anatol forced himself to relax as he ran a hand through his hair, hitting Victor with a smile so forced it likely read as a grimace. “What is there even to say? I’m upholding my end of the bargain and she, hers. Little to elaborate on.”

“Really?” An inscrutable smile cracked Victor’s professional facade, "that routine?"

“What?”

“Nothing.” Victor waved dismissively, but the grin remained, “the symmetry between you and Eliza is uncanny, is all.”

“What is a ghoul but an extension of oneself?” As he spoke, Anatol noticed a couple of feathers he had shed scatted around his feet. Stress had a way of making his body… uncooperative. Whatever he had most recently stretched or molded would revert into a more familiar shape. Sometimes to a well worn mask, other times… itching toward something profanely mortal. “You are what you eat, after all.”

“Color me curious.” Victor stepped back into the doorway, glancing over his shoulder. As if Eliza had any reason to sneak back into the shop.  “It is not every day that someone of your particular background elects to join the Camarilla. Especially under such… unfavorable conditions."

Ana toed the feather with his boot, “Is that why you’ve been so helpful?”

“Perhaps.” 

He sighed, “I’ll provide answers as satisfying as your service. how is that for a trade?”

“That's around what I expected.” Victor let his focus drift past Anatol, eyes tracking mental gears the tzimisce could not see, “Where to even begin… ah, well, might as well keep it simple. Did you volunteer, or did your kin do the volunteering for you?”

Anatol smoothed his coat. He studied the spines that weighed the shelf next to him. He thought of Mihal. He wondered what book his hands might cradle now, or what creature, or most likely both. Words still fresh in his memory, as if spoken yesterday–“My sweet. My dear. You and I both know it was only a matter of time before you fell out of our little nest again. Forgive me for going so far as to hurry you along and give you a push.”

His heart oozed poison. 

It burned.

He waited.

Hermia did not look up when she spoke. “Over a year and still bound by the Vaulderie. I don’t know if it is you or your Priest who I should congratulate.”

“I’m happy to accept for him.”

“Then send my regards.” To say the Prince was singular in her tone would be a tactful way to address her affect in Elysium. What was dry humor or a serious assertion was Anatol’s guess. Maybe something he’d grow better at discerning with time. And with blood. “But that still leaves us with the issue–I cannot hold you to your end until it is broken, and I would rather not wait another year to tie this loose thread we have here. I imagine you’re keen to do the same.”

Ana’s eyes rested on the curve of Hermia’s throat, his beast already having grown bored with the conversation. “I am.”

“Hermia asked for our eldest. Seeing that everyone older than me, save Mihal, had been slaughtered and he was the one doing the negotiating…” Anatol plucked up a stray feather from the floor, twirling it between his fingers, “...she considered me sufficient. No one objected, so here I am.”

Victor scrutinized him. “...if that is the case, this has to be the most composed betrayal I’ve seen in my life.”

“It’s well rehearsed.” Anatol replied flatly.

“So well it appears natural.” Victor–                                                                            

   –Hermia handed him a glass ampule. It was the length of his pinky and not much thicker, filled with viscous, marrow-dark substance. 

Ana tilted the vessel to the side, watched the sluggish ooze creep below the airpocket. “...and this is?”

“The hammer.” Hermia’s lip twitched in what Ana assumed was her best effort at a dry smile, “Part of my inheritance from the previous Prince–the fruits of a decades-long effort. While it can’t break the Vaulderie equivalent of a full circle, it’s effective at deprogramming weak or new ones. You should be ready to bond well within–

“–less than an hour before I need to head out, and forgive me if I’ve already proposed this, but I think given your background along with your further integration within the university you could be of particular use–”

“Efficient.” Anatol eyed the substance as if it were radioactive.

The language sat poorly with him–especially coming from a Tremere. However the time for negotiation had long since passed–and it was his ability to dissociate into the required role that was being counted on. So he cracked that glass and knocked back the bitter concoction without another beat of hesitation.

It was as abrasive as boozy blood, with a kick of ketamine. The sourness crawled up his nose and bled into the back of his throat, clouding his attention by packing cotton fuzz along the vertebrae of his neck and base of his brain. The cold, pricking slice of glass dotted awareness as his grip tightened around and shattered the ampule. Shards cut through and buried into palm flesh that, in that particular moment, was indecisive if it wished to remain palm flesh. Focusing his diffused attention and keeping shape took every ounce of effort, zeroing in on the metallic taste hanging in the back of his throat. He clung to it, pulled it back taut and felt his loose stitching retighten. Eventually the taste faded and the spiritual gale had passed.

There was less here than there was before.

A trembling void with pin-hole crimson stars.

A millimeter of skin.

At some point, he had closed his eyes.

“Mr. Stamatin?”

He opened them.

Hermia had turned to fully face him, her hands folded patiently in her lap. Vitae smeared, congealing and sticky across the arm of his chair. “Yes?”

Victor cleared his throat, cutting Ana's silent wallowing short. “...If you’d prefer to take time to decompress and reflect before being peppered with inquiries, I would not blame you Ana.”

How do you feel?” Hermia asked.

“Present.” Anatol croaked.

“I think I do, Victor.” Ana’s gaze had already settled into the same empty corner of the doorway it had before, “Thank you.”

"It's the least I can do." Ever the Ventrue, the professor closed the conversation with a firm handshake. "Have a good evening, Ana."

Victor left.

That twitching ghost of a smile returned, “Good. Give me your hand.”

He did. She cupped her palm against the back of his hand, guiding it to a shallow clay bowl on her desk. A hiss escaped his lips as she squeezed, vitae and bits of glass joining the mixture of ash and earth at the bottom of the vessel. The drops left tarry, crater-like impressions but not much else.

Hermia released his hand. Anatol absentmindedly picked out the remaining ampule still dug into his hand as she watched the contents of the bowl closely. A light smoke drifted up, a slight chemical reaction affirmed by an even slighter nod from the Tremere as she then set the bowl to the side. “Congratulations, Mr. Stamatin. You’re clean.”

“Fantastic.” He brushed the recovered glass into a nearby trash bin. With as narrow as the office was, there were only a few precious inches of space between her knees and his own. A coldly intimate and absolutely suffocating one-on-one. When he looked back to the Prince, she was rolling one of her sleeves to the crook, fingers curled into a fist. Sitting where the bowl had been, a dagger.

Hermia plucked up and unsheathed the blade. Longing once again peeked its head. That longing so familiar he happily rested in its well-worn crook. One that he hadn’t felt this strongly in months, not since the Vaulderie. Since Mihal. The dissonance, achingly, manifested in a grim delight. The Beast meanwhile keened, heart still raw after being so abruptly ripped from the grip of a dozen hands. Wounded, shivering, and alone for the first time in centuries. The warmth of the pack now reduced to a foggy recollection.

Tear it like a bandage, Anatol reasoned. Anticipation is worse than the sting.

Hermia pressed the dagger to her wrist and the wink of vitae was the only invitation Anatol needed. All senses stood at attention, nothing existed beyond that bloom of warmth from the chill. Vitae. Bright. Enticing. He had barely processed the words that left her lips. The detached, condescending bemusement that colored her expression was plainly read as he latched onto the wound. It was humiliating. He knew. At that moment, he did not care. That moment, he slid down his throat with the vitae. He reveled in its charge, with how quickly his body conducted its electricity and saturate his entirety. He did not exist beyond the point where his lips met her skin. He craved it even as he drank, every mouthful expanding his appetite.

He… wasn’t used to this intensity. The Vaulderie had been a net which caught him from such plunges in the past. Now he found himself grasping onto a single line as he was dragged under by an earth-churning riptide. With this sensation came the even more intense impulse to cling to the stable point of her wrist on his lips. Safe harbor. Blood down his throat and the tips of her fingers skimming up the skin of his neck. A caress for a beast, not a lover, but it uncoiled his heart all the same. It slithered like the vitae in his veins and wrapped, possessive, around her. 

Mine.

“Enough.”

He didn’t immediately comply. What harm is a drop or two more? More. More. Though he hadn’t the chance to form the full, rebellious thought when a harsh grip seized a fistful of hair and wrenched his head back. Vitae stained his chin and congealed at the corners of his mouth, fangs bared and eyes dilated in his fervor. Her infuriated stare entrapped him.

“Will you make me regret our agreement so soon?”

Anatol swallowed. Vitae and spit played the back of his tongue, he felt something deep within him shift.

“No, Prince.”

“No, Prince. And?”

“Forgive me.”

“For?”

“My lapse of restraint.”

An impossibly long beat of silence. Anatol’s ears were practically ringing with it. Fear tainted the new blood in his veins.

“You are forgiven.”

Hermia relinquished her grip and he slumped back into his chair. She stared at him expectantly.

“...thank you.” Ana sighed.

Hermia took her time to respond, leaving him with the distinct feeling of being picked over. “So. You have a taste for vitae, I gather?”

He remained silent.

“I don’t intend to punish that, given you keep your appetite in line. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't expect it to a degree, given what I've been told of your upbringing...” She paused. “You don’t strike me as a foolish creature, Anatol.”

He kept his gaze fixed on that same row of books. Unseeing, unmoored in the unsettling warmth setting in from her backhanded compliment. “I am not, Prince.”

“We wouldn’t be here today if you were.” For another moment, they considered each other. “How did you meet Mihal?”

“Through my craft. I had inherited a carpentry trade through my father and, with my husband, accepted a patronage from Mihal. He, like so many of our line, took great pride in his haven. He took pride in our work. My work.”

“So he embraced you on the spot?” Hermia sounded skeptical, as she should be. This wasn’t a toreador, after all, even if Mihal has been known to fool people.

“It wasn’t only my work that attracted him.” It was strange how easily the memories arrived at his lips. Memories held quiet for decades, plucked out like flowers for a bouquet. First for Eliza, now for his Prince. “He knew my father. To this day, I do not know anything beyond that their relationship was brief. But my sire is prone to fixation, and I inherited his demeanor, his... composition. Of which Mihal was fond of.”

Hermia took note. “So you were the Priest's partner-carpenter?”

“I’m what he needs me to be.”

“And what is that, now?” Hermia’s attention didn’t relent. Inquisitive, bordering in burrowing. “I can’t help but wonder- What is this, sat before me, this gift of the Court?”

Anatol bit his tongue, staring at his shoes. Felt his skin crawl. Considered an answer he wasn’t entirely sure of himself.

“A key, fashioned for a lock. I was ground down to fit your shape.” He… did not appreciate how his voice wavered as he spoke. He was above feeling. He was above running the last decade over and over again in his head, searching for the slightest imperfection, a nod, a tell, a scrap! Any explanation of his expulsion beyond pettiness. “I am what you need to be.”

“How very… traditional, of you.” A flicker of wit caught light in her eyes. “I’m sure the irony of this situation isn’t lost on you.”

“It is not.”

“I appreciate it.” Hermia’s voice softened and, finally, she captured his gaze fully. Immediately Ana’s heart leapt into his throat–a gag. Were her eyes that clear ten minutes ago? Was her intent so intimately direct? Whatever pride had sprung up within him earlier scattered to the wind like seeds off a dandelion head. “I admire your composure. It can be difficult to conduct oneself when your place in the night has shifted so dramatically–sure, you stumbled this evening, but you also allowed yourself to be curbed without curdling into a tantrum. That proves you possess a healthy degree of humility. You understand and are willing to commit to your station. For that, you have my gratitude.”

“..thank you.” Hesitation. Oh, Caine, where had his words gone? None of those things he found particularly flattering or suited to him at all, but he felt like a blushing child all the same. With an equally juvenile shame Ana averted his eyes again. “Your appreciation has its worth, and I return it in kind. Your own deft handling has not gone unnoticed.”

A whisper of amusement, that gentlest twitch toward a smile, a hint of a mild relief. Blood Talking. They both thought it, knew it. And yet Anatol found himself spinning in circles to fill in the justification. She had been gentler than he had anticipated. Had handled him with care, however distant, however clinical. This was indisputable, almost physical in their reality. He was simultaneously grateful and terrified. His scalp stung, he had definitely lost some of his plumage to her grip.  An invasion by inches. She ran a thoughtful finger along the hilt of her sheathed dagger. “So, how is the Court fairing?”

Anatol’s bashfulness soured. He held his tongue. a pause, a consideration. Sucking the venom out of his words before he spoke them. “They are doing well… I imagine. They have provided me with a respectable distance throughout my purgatory, so I am afraid I am not entirely equipped to say for certain how they stand these nights.”

“They’ve cut you off?”

“No. No–” Sharp, sudden, cutoff. Please, no, never speak that. Never. Not you. Never from you. The notion of abandonment stuck like a burr. Irritated. Again he stayed his tongue, untangled and picked out his thoughts with an icy care. “I apologize. That is– they have not. It was agreed it would be… easier for both myself and the members of the Court to wait until after the baton was handed, so to speak, before we resume communications.”

“A grieving period.”

“...yes. A grieving period.”

“I trust you will report to me when these communications resume?”

“Of course.” Anatol assured, forcing himself to return her stare, “The second I receive word, it’s yours.”

The pressure of her scrutiny was already immense, a cool and steady press. “ Good evening, Mr. Stamatin."

“Good Evening, Hermia.”

Anatol locked up the shop and left not long after Victor’s departure.

He walked out the building, past his car. He could… come back to that later. The night was young, and he had no other appointments. Tonight, he would walk Fairhaven on a new set of feet. Break in the soles. Measure out his stride.

Anatol stopped at a crosswalk, dug his heel into the curb. Despite himself, a smile broke out.

He flexed his fingers, reached into his pocket and fished out a pack of cigarettes. 

In a blink and the click of an electric lighter he had one out, between his lips and lit.

Sharp inhale.

Burning, singing heat.

The crosswalk light turned.

Anatol stepped into the street, exhaling a trail of smoke. The muted caress of pain greeted each inhale, a flare, a point to meditate on. Smoke coiling into a small ember on his tongue, a test of endurance to tether his racing mind. 

He felt… grateful? Relieved?

Sharp inhale. Exhale.

Settled.

For the first time in over a year, he felt like he could rest. Did he still miss the Court? Of course. Mihal? Acid. He was estranged, and what a funny, reaching feeling that was.

But now he reached with both feet grounded.

He felt… comfortable.

Dangerous, dangerous feeling.

Slow inhale. Hold. Smolder. Burn.

He closed his eyes.

Saw Hermia’s.

Exhale.

“It can be difficult to conduct oneself when your place in the night has shifted so dramatically and you must take to a new role.”

And what role is that? A leashed Dragon to defend your Tower? Unliving rage bait for the Prisci? 

Anatol laughed, flicked his cigarette to the ground. Snuffed it with a sharp snap of his boot. However false, however dangerous the feeling, he let himself disappear into it. Merge with  and steer it.

After all, how else had he survived these past two centuries?

Last Chapter - Ao3 - Next Chapter

[were-michael]

Uncle

Henry Emily stared at his old friend's home. The Afton household looked dull, cold, reflecting the tragedy that befell the residents that once lived inside.

Police tape flowed gently in the light breeze. They had abandoned the investigation. Why? Henry was still fighting for that answer

The man found the door to the home unlocked, revealing the abandoned family home. Everything had been left. Like nothing had been touched.

Maybe something here could give some closure to what happened to his friend, his family and maybe even Henry's own daughter. He hated the thought but all signs pointed to William being the killer.

Henry rummaged through old cupboards, bedrooms and filing cabinets

Nothing.

That left the basement. Michael had told him William vanished in there a lot. Evan added to that, stating he heard weird noises at night from the basement

William's workshop.

The man had always claimed to have one but never let Henry see it. It worried Henry but he respected his business partner's privacy

Tense with anxiety, Henry slowly pushed open the door to the basement. The dark staircase greeting him.

The man slowly descended into the basement. He was greeted with a sight that was the complete opposite of the upper half of the house.

The place had been trashed. Paper had been made into a carpet as it sprawled over the cold, blood stained floor.

That was another thing. There was dry blood. Stained over the floor, desk and what looked liked a ruined chair

What had William been doing here?

Henry crouched down to the paper cover floor and picked up one of the loose sheets.

Scribbled notes had been written on it. Rants about something called Remnant and the diner.

It froze Henry to his core. Had the business he and William worked so hard for just a lab experiment?

He rummaged through the desk's drawers finding mainly scrap metal and random tools. An odd mess for such an organised man.

Then his hand hit something. Paper, it felt like. A stack of it. A file.

Henry pulled it out and was greeted with the word "Failed" in bold red pen.

Yet up in the corner it stated RE-001 BR

Some sort of test?

Henry placed it on the table and opened it wide. He read the first page. William was going on some rant about eternal life and how he could discover it.

Then the next page went on about animals and their Remnant, a substance William had apparently discovered. One someone could collect after the death of something living.

Then there was the diary entry

October 25th 1983

I have successfully gained some Remnant.

I harvested the substance from a bear cub that had given its life to my research. I am one step closer to my success thanks to the animal.

Now, to get the subject in place.

Henry's confusion only grew. William killed a cub before all of this and for what? Some substance he believed would make him Immortal.

Afton had always been strange but this was taking it to a new level. Henry's friend, business partner, was insane

He flipped the page.

October 27th 1983

Remnant Experiment 1. Bear Experiment.

Subject was reluctant to help. He's always been like that. Gets it from his father. Stubbornness.

He fought back but I was able to get the Remnant in place. His body accepted it nicely at first, healing anything it could.

Then the change began. He began to shift into a bear-human hybrid. It was interesting to say the least but not the result I wanted.

Do not use animal Remnant again. Michael was bound to be a disappointment anyway.

Michael? William's own son? The man Experimented on his own son?!

Henry could feel his blood boil. Not only had William potentially killed people but he Experimented on his son like he was some form of lab rat.

That's when Henry heard a noise behind him. A clang of metal.

A snarl of an animal was heard after.

The man turned to see a brown bear huddled into the corner. Shredded clothing, leftover food and a blanket lay by its paws.

It looked scared. A chain had been tied around it.

Henry could believe what he was seeing. It was exactly how William described. A Bear-human hybrid.

"Michael?" Henry called out to the creature.

The bear's ear twitched as it cried out.

"Jesus Christ" Henry gasped. "What did he do to you?"

The bear or Michael rather, sniffed the air and cried when he smelt something new. Henry couldn't imagine how long he was down here

"It's ok, Mike. It's me" Henry slowly approached the boy. "It's Henry"

Michael slowly approached and sniffed Henry's hand, crying more when he realised who it was.

"It's ok, Michael. Let's get you out of here" Henry spoke, moving to the chain. Michael carefully watched him as he unwrapped the chain around his leg.

As soon as the chain left, Michael leaned down and began licking his back leg much like how a dog would.

"There we go, Mike" Henry said softly.

Michael then let out a loud yell, making the man jump back.

Horrifyingly, the bear began morphing back into the boy. His bones and body parts cracking and reshaping.

There, laying in front of Henry, was a scared bare Michael Afton.

"Holy shit" Henry gasped. He quickly took off his long coat and wrapped it around the teen.

Michael looked up at Henry, tears staining his eyes.

"It hurts" Michael began. "It hurts so much, Uncle Henry"

His voice was harsh, dry, and painful. He sobbed.

"I just want it to stop" Michael cried. "Why me? Why did he do this to me?"

Henry pulled the teen into his arms and was quick to console him.

"You're ok, Michael. I've got you. You're safe now, ok? Ill take you home and I'll watch over you" Henry spoke. "Is that alright?"

Michael nodded almost instantly.

"Come on then. Let's get you home"

[em0sket]

big long horror post incoming

i worte a short horror story punctuation isnt great but whatever

insipered by tma

tw death body horror

Mr meechum:Well you got me here now what you want the full story from the top or just the incident?

documenter:Well we do what we can to try and provide a documented account of all sides of history and it gets recorded and filed in the records always best to hear everything first hand plus i'd hate for anything to slip through the cracks be twisted by the media that sort of thing of course i know its not completely 100% possible but i like to do what i can to preserve people's story from their perspective give me a second to make the official notation so tell me mr meechum what happened in the intendium labs in  september 1969

Mr meechum: firstly i know people think “scientist” is an impressive title but we didnt have breakthroughs every day not in my department anyway i was an overseer in the categorising department that meant anything and everything that was handed over by the public to the labs was sorted through by us anything seemingly dangerous usually some cheap old crap glow in the dark vases and plates suspected to be radioactive which we would test and store appropriately had a couple of suspected evidence of communist invasion which was mainly scraps of paper in code or unusual bullets one time a copy of the communist manifesto never led to anything but it had to be processed just in case said the higher ups and i wasnt going to argue  we used to get alot of weird looking stones people told us were moonrocks usually just hagstones or naturally occurring geodes but of course with the moon landing a couple months before, the paranoia of bored housewives and a couple of doped up drifters made for a drastic influx of “moonrocks” or apparent proof of alien life in my lab over the last couple of months. pretty much all of them were hoaxes or deluded fantasies but there was one that made me move to my desk job .

one of the guys brought it in scott was his name scott hawthorne but we all called him sniffer because on his first week he found three different radioactive objects without the geiger counter apparently to him they all had a distinct smell to them whatever that meant but he was right about 8/10 times so when he brought in this unassuming rock and made a big fuss over it we all joked that sniffer had gone nose blind, but he was captivated by this thing absolutely entranced he wouldn't let go of it and could tell when someone had touched it which he was right about but we could never figure out how he knew he had made it his personal project using his breaks to study it he weighed and measured and examined it was about the size of a football with a light sandy grey exterior but perfectly spherical like it had been specifically carved to look that way we all thought it was just a chisled rock he was obsessing over  for some reason ,thought he would get bored of it myself included. Ive never regretted my ignorance more because after the first week everyone in the lab been… feeling itchy ,i guess, sort of uncomfortable. There was an underlying feeling of unrest people couldnt focus it was always something, the room was too quiet, too hot, too prickly something in the air just made the guys skin crawl a sort of squirming unease began to creep under my coworkers very flesh like something was undulating under their tissue poking around burrowing. This of course whilst mildly unnerving, was more of a health concern than anything if something in the lab was making people sick it was my duty as their manager to write to head office. Which sent me to the medical team so they came around and did their checks and everyone was fine ,physically the lab was monitored and swabbed everything was normal apart from scott, he was the worst out of everyone.

He had what seemed to be a rash on the back of his neck,they checked it and it seemed to be just that they passed it off as bad laundry detergent and went on with their day and i didnt want to be causing ruckus and being pedantic so i went about my work. scott however became more and more irritated kept scratching himself adjusting his tie and began to get agitated when any coworkers tried to chat with him instinctively reaching for this rock every time they did .i got sick of his attitude one day so i suggested he take the day off and honest to god he nearly swung at me  before stopping himself and then he refused to leave eventually i had to get security in who then had to physically drag him out of the workspace along with the usual cursing he started literally spitting and hissing basically frothing at the mouth other than the paperwork this was going to require i clearly needed to have a look at that rock he was studying, test it for anything addictive or harmful something we missed. the guys in the lab obviously knew that now scott was gone someone was going to have to investigate the stone and if i didnt do it someone else would, probably with less caution, care and sense

so at lunch break i made it an event since everyone was so keen to know what was up with it. so i looked over scotts notes;his examinations of the mineral i- it didnt make any sense it was quite literally impossible it measured about 60cm across in all directions give or take a few mm and get this completely weightless completely! i checked myself first i covered it in a fire blanket with my coworkers watching  because if this thing had powered meth that sniffer had been well sniffing on it or god knows what else i didnt want to risk touching it.  Then i put it on a scale but it was right it was  hardly a fraction of a gram but the weight of it felt like a bowling ball i checked on different scales multiple times it all came out the same it wasnt physically possible so i swabbed it and ran the tests with 20 eyes watching my every movement it came out to nothing. regular old granite. Im normally pretty level headed but for some reason this enraged me this stupid all encompassing pebble had for some reason turned a good drinking buddy into a neurotic mess and was eating away at his life and sanity slowly consuming his mind and the weeks of irritation and frustration at the unrest of my skin after this inane piece of granite entered my life and workspace I dont know what came over me exactly but i had to get rid of it. it just had to go. I struck it on the tiled floor and it cracked. one crack. down the centre. about a fingers width apart and everyone was waiting for my next move  so i ducttaped my lab coat and two pairs of vinyl gloves closed around the wrist completely sealed just in case.

i looked over at the spot it fell when a keen and sure  sense of dread awoke within me id never been so deeply instinctualy fearful like that before some primal part of my brain screaming bloody murder that i needed to get out now the same as  how i imagine a fish feels when it sinks its jaw into the hook. But i mean what else was i going to do let it continue ruining lives? So i swallowed my fear and strode over all eyes on me the impossible hunk of earth at my fee.t i wedged one finger in between the ridges of its crack held the base of the infernal sphere and pried it open. the rock was spongy and sulphur yellow with a smell of utter decay a groan came from my audience of staff and my hands sank through the geode at first contact it had the look of  a rotted mattress and the feel of raw sausages my hand shot back  as i processed the texture in my mind and gazed at the honey combed innards that looked like something had buried through it like the remains of a parasite that had dug its way through the structure of the rock infinite amounts making little homes for itself repeatedly squirming and writhing its way through something stronger than itself im glad i moved my hand when i did because it started to pulse looking like it was ejecting something from itself sort of like a cat hacking up a furball

all those tiny divots and passage ways convusled and shuddered out  long thin flailing tendrils it looked like it had coated itself with a blue mucus possibly a toxin im not sure but they didnt stop i never saw the end of them it just kept reeling out of its honeycomb shell endless worming tubes of muscle they flopped onto the white tiled floor leaving trails of foul smelling hot ooze behind it and started hunting for something to attatch itself to. moving at an alarming pace  each tentacle flattening itself onto the ground as wide as it could possibly to feel what was in the area .what it could devour. i dont think it had any eyes just meteres and meteres of viscous curling feelers everyone took a step back apart from one of the lab guys poor harry poor dear sweet stupid harry had his shoelaces untied we used to laugh at him for it you know said it wouldnt hurt him to give it a go and tie the damn things once in a while but as he lurched backwards the vile things clamped onto them and wouldnt let go by the time he realised they had gotten over his socks and onto his bare legs. digging.

There was a moment of pure panic and stillness when we all watched. until he started screaming, then we burst into action ,we started looking for something to help maybe a fire extinguisher or another gas that would subdue it  better yet kill it but the fool tried to crush it harry fell to his knees onto his shins in an effort to beat the thing into a pulp which in turn let the creature find his knees and climb its way up his torso onto his face where it promptly found the eye and started to burrow. chewing through the poor sod boring a new home in his skull and ill never forget the god awful sound , like meat ripping wet and visceral and it  left a trail of purple on his face as the blood from his retinas mixed with the things mucus then when his screaming stopped we all watched the tentacles crawl out of his mouth having  bored through most of the face hitting the ground with a meaty slap but no one moved  most were just as far away as they could get from the carnivorous eels mostly climbing on cabinets in an effort to not touch the ground i when the things again started flattening themselves to search once again this time with a larger diameter than before presumably because of it last meal 

god knows what i did was cowardly i was a person of interest for 10 years for christs sake i had to get out of it by to claiming “mental unrest” but i saw the broom cupboard and hid i had the key so i hid i didnt know what else to do i mean they dont train you for this it was just sheer panic fight or flight  but i dont forget those screams i dont forget the ripping of flesh i dont forget the people i once knew and their hollowed out skull i dont forget the smell of blood and sulfur that plays back on my senses even now thats what people dont get ive been stuck on that day for the last 53 yearsit got on the sunday times front page after that i  got spat at in the street and jeered at on the way to court then thats it shows over everyone goes home and i have to live with it  i cant go to support groups because people have heard of me the broken families i caused the psych evals every year did you know henrys daughter at the age of three asked me at the funeral why i killed her daddy? it’s taken me years to be able to shift myself into a semi normal life but yeah i suppose thats it the whole bloody story  

documenter: thank you that was... fufilling -exits

[fandomnovella-blog]

The Teacher's Pet: Kim Yugyeom

You were so stressed out this week you didn't know which way was left and which way was right. You were exhausted and your appearance was starting to mirror how you felt. You had gotten pale, and your hair was starting to get a little crazy. Your assignments were keeping you so busy you fell asleep on your math textbook and woke up with the page stuck to your face! But finally, you felt like you were on top of everything. Every assignment had been handed in and every piece of scrap paper put in its proper place so with puffy eyes and your clothes hanging off you, you entered your History class. By the looks of the other students, they seemed to be just as tired dishevelled and sleep deprived as you. It made you feel less alone. You were just nodding off when the door opened and in walked Kim Yugyeom.

A hush fell over the class. He stuck out like a sore thumb! The whole class looked a mess! Exam stress had ravaged you guys to next to nothing and here Yugyeom was, not a hair out of place! His clothes neatly fit his body and with a face that almost glowed with energy and brightness! It was like Exam week had taken all your energy and zapped him with it!

He was carrying what you supposed was Mr P's laptop and mug which was full of steaming hot cofee and he neatly placed it on the desk waiting for it's owner to arrive. The smell wafted to your nostrils and gave you a little more life. You then watched groggily as Yugyeom placed a card and box of chocolates on the desk and sat down waiting for Mr P to arrive!

Sure enough the formidable teacher strode into the classroom, greeted Yugyeom cordially and sat down at his desk, "Thank you Yugyeom for helping me bring my supplies to class! Oh, and what's this?” He gestured towards the Chocolates and card! “You're spoiling me!"

You saw from the corner of your eye that Yugyeom beamed, blushed a little and sat up a little straighter. Mr P then scanned the class "you all look a wreck! How are you supposed to learn anything! Prepare to hand in your reports today. I'm not extending the deadline so do not bother asking!"

You groaned internally. Typical Yugyeom behaviour! Always giving gifts to teachers to say "thank you for being awesome and helping us to grow into the amazing people we'll become" you snorted.

The only thing Mr P gave you was stress, a headache and more homework than you could handle! At least the report he had asked you to do had been finished. You looked in your bag for the folder containing your essay and your heart dropped. You didn't have it with you! It must have gotten mixed up while you were at home! Today was the last deadline and if you failed to hand it in you'd lose a whole semester grade!

You felt like you were in a living nightmare!

Maybe if you pinched yourself then you would wake up with your math textbook stuck to your face again! But no. This was reality. This was happening right now and your whole life flashed past you eyes! You moved your hand more frantically in your bag uselessly praying  that your assignment would be there. But you were met with air passing through your fingertips whenever you swiped through your bag! You couldn't lie, and Mr P would NEVER accept an excuse. There was nothing else to do but bite the bullet. Slowly you raised a trembling hand. Mr P's head looked up from his laptop.

"Yes Yugyeom what's the matter" he said beaming. Your heart was beating fast...did he say Yugyeom? Did he just confuse you with his favourite student?

"Sir I think you have us confused with the other class. Our assignments aren't due in until next week."

Mr P looked at Yugyeom "Are you sure? I have it clearly marked here" he said looking at his diary.

"Sir, I wouldn't lie, I specifically remember you saying that it would be due in next week."

You looked at him eyes wide with disbelief.

Kim Yugyeom THE KIM YUGYEOM lying?! To the teacher?! Now you definitely were dreaming! For a minute Mr P looked down again at his diary. You felt sure he wasn't going to believe it.

But then he lifted his head and said "Very well. I'lI make the deadline next week. It could be that with all the essays due in I've written the wrong date down. It doesn't take much! Exam season doesn’t just affect the students you know!" He chuckled. You let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. And you weren't alone. It seemed whole class sighed with relief with you. When the bell rang for break you walked quickly out of the classroom.

You couldn't believe you’d escaped detention and an F-grade in history!

"You're welcome!” someone said as they passed you “Next time if you need me to cover you just ask." You looked up and saw Yugyeom's shiny backpack.

"Huh," you said to yourself. Yugyeom clearly wasn’t as squeaky clean and pure as the teachers thought!

[casspurrjoybell-22]

Dream Eater - Chapter 11 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

I expected post-sex awkwardness but Damien moves right past it and doesn't look back. 

Something's changed between us, though and despite my determination to keep feelings out of it, little glimmers of happiness keep sparking in my chest whenever he touches me or looks my way and it pisses me off.

Damien's the last guy I want to fall for.

He's a pushy, dangerous asshole and he's got more baggage than the cargo deck of a 747 but he's also a patient, thoughtful and an attentive lover... not to mention... hot as fuck.

I know he only cares about me because of the Key but when he laughs at the stupid things I say or explores my body with pleasure and admiration, I can almost convince myself he's seeing Alex Shade and not just a shade of someone else.

His dreams change, too and for the first time since I met him, he has a nightmare that isn't based on a memory.

I know because I'm in it.

In the dream, I watch myself through his eyes as I walk towards an enormous stone arch.

I call to myself to stop and come back but I don't listen.

There's a blinding light and I'm gone.

For a dream not from memory, his pain is surprisingly intense.

After the fourth time I wake up with a tear-stained pillow, I ask him about it.

"It's a Doorway," he tells me, tiredly. "You're seeing yourself open it with the Key."

"But... where do I go?" I ask.

He gives me a look.

"Heavenly Keys are destroyed when they're used to open a Door. That's why Sakariel knew he would die whether the rebellion succeeded or not. If he'd managed to open a Door, he'd have been consumed by it."

"Oh."

I guess that explained why he was so tragic all the time.

"Well, stop worrying about it," I say. "Even if I could, I don't plan on opening any doors."

Later that morning, I discover I have other reasons to worry and they're a lot closer at hand.

Allannan summons Damien to see her and I go along because no one says not to.

When we enter her study, she looks grim.

"Allannan, has something happened?" Damien asks.

She looks between him and me and for a moment I wonder if she's going to ask me to leave but then she speaks.  

"Last night, someone attempted to break into the residential wing of the estate. They got away but they left this behind."

She lifts a small cloth bag from her desk and tosses it to Damien.

He catches it and looks through it.

His expression grows sour.

"Poison, blades, rope... an assassin, then."

Allannan nods.

"He also had this."

She hands him a small scrap of paper. 

He frowns and shows it to me and I recognize a crude map of the building... our room is marked in red. 

"It seems he was after either you or Alex but the most disturbing thing is what my guard managed to snatch from around his neck."

She holds out a pendant on a string and Damien goes still.

"What is it?" I ask.

It looks like an X in a circle.

"The cross of the Vanguard," Damien says. "Oran's elite crew."

He stands.

"I will discover what is behind this, Allannan. I apologize if we've brought trouble to your house."

She shakes her head.

"I'm not worried about my house, Damien. I'm worried about those within its walls."

Damien barely speaks as we cross the city to Oran's headquarters.

He marches up the steps and storms through the doors, directly into what appears to be a meeting of some sort.

Around a dozen people are gathered at a long table and Oran sits at its head.

"Damien. What a surprise," Oran says, rising to greet us.

The others rise as well. "

And... Alex, wasn't it? What brings you to my humble home?"

Damien's voice is cold when he replies.

"I'm here because two attempts have been made on Alex's life. Can you explain why an assassin would be wearing the sign of the Vanguard?"

Oran doesn't answer for a moment but his face loses the false cheerfulness and falls into a well-worn expression of steely gravity.

"Well, it seems the time for subtlety is passed. Yes, the assassins were mine. I would have done things more directly but you seem... attached. Besides, after nearly a century as Azael's prisoner, I don't know how much I can trust you. Especially when you won't even use your real name anymore."

Damien is obviously furious and as I watch a pale, lean blade of blue fire forms in his hand.

"I suggest you explain yourself, Oran and quickly."

The others in the room move to draw their own weapons but Oran stills them with a wave of his hand.

"The war isn't over, Damien and the stakes are higher than ever. I'm only doing what I must."

He nods towards some of the others and they move behind us, blocking our retreat.

"What are you talking about?" Damien snaps.

"Of course the war is over. The Key was destroyed and our forces broken and scattered. You can't hope to reignite rebellion at this point."

Oran shakes his head.

"Do you really think our side was the only one with an agenda? Azael has his own plans and they are long in the making."

He moves around the end of the table and comes towards us.

"Tell me, Damien, why do you think he did what he did to Sakariel?"

I hear Damien's breath catch.

"To punish him. To destroy him," he whispers and Oran sneers.

"Punish, yes. Destroy, no. If he truly wanted him destroyed, he would have used a Sephiroth blade. He wanted him broken, ruined, shattered beyond repair. He wanted the pieces and this... abomination... is the result," he says, gesturing to me.

"I don't understand," I say, trying not to sound like I'm freaking out. "Why would he need a broken Key? Why not just use Sakariel as he was?"

It's Damien who answers me, sounding stunned.

"Because Heavenly Keys only open higher realms."

"You always were bright," Oran nods at him. "That's right. The Door Azael wants to open doesn't need a Key. It needs something dark and twisted. More of a lock's pick, really."

Damien sways and the blade of fire fades from his hand.

"He wants to open the Abyss," he says.

I don't know what that means but it sounds bad.

"Indeed," Oran confirms. "A Key would never serve but if he could break one, mold it and twist to his purpose... that might do."

He pauses for a moment, seemingly letting Damien absorb this information.

Leaning against the table and crossing his arms, he continues.

"Of course, the pieces were scattered far and wide but Azael had time to find them. He only needed one, after all. We set out to make sure he failed. While you were trapped in Azael's domain, we were busy tracking down as many fragments as we could find and putting an end to them."

He turns his eyes towards me with a look of thoughtful disgust.

"We never thought to look on Earth but at least this piece is the last."

Damien goes pale.

"What do you intend?"

Oran cocks his head.

"We mean to destroy it, of course. Although there is another way. A way that might even heal Sakariel's soul, given time."  

I feel a shiver of alarm when I hear the interest in Damien's voice.

"What way?" he asks and Oran smiles.

"We could burn him clean with Fire. Scour away the polluting elements... the human and demon. Only the fragment of Celestial soul will be left, purified. In time, the fragment may heal itself and regain its whole form... your beloved restored."

"What about Alex?" Damien asks and Oran shrugs.

"He is partly Sakariel, after all. The human and demon parts of him will perish, as will his physical form, of course but we will supply another for the fragment. One more... suitable... for a Celestial soul."

I feel like he's basically saying I'm gonna die.

At least, pretty much all of me that makes me who I am.

"Damien, don't listen to him," I say. "Even if Sakariel's soul could be restored, he wouldn't be the same person you knew and loved. He's gone... you have to accept that."

"Silence, demon," Oran snaps. "You will die regardless... either burned clean by Fire or slain by sacred blade. A defiled Key cannot be allowed to exist. The choice is Dantalian's."

[twig-gy]

I JUST THOUGHT I WAS CLEAN I WAS JUST TELLING MY THERAPIST AND THEN SUDDENLY I HAD TO CATCH MY HANDS EVERY 5 GODDAMN SECONDS. IT FEELS LIKE A CONTAGION. IT FEELS LIKE EVER SINCE THAT DAY THERE HAS BEEN SOMETHING INSIDE MY SKIN AND IT HAD BEEN LYING LOW BUT OF COURSE THAT’S A FREEDOM I DON’T DESERVE. OTHER PEOPLE GET THE PRIVILEGE OF BEING CLEAN WITHOUT TRYING. OTHER PEOPLE DON’T EVEN HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS. BUT NOT ME! WHY WOULD I GET TO DO THAT? JUST BECAUSE OF MY ONE MISTAKE I WILL BE RUNNING AWAY FROM SOMETHING OTHER PEOPLE DON’T EVEN HAVE TO MEET. LIKE YOU CAN LOOK AT PEOPLE LIKE US AND LEAVE THEM. ADDICTS ARE SO PATHETIC AND DISGUSTING AND INNATELY HORRIBLE, RIGHT? RIGHT? IT WOULD NEVER BE YOU. IT’S AS IF THEY ARE A DIFFERENT CLASS OF PEOPLE. DESTINED TO ABUSE. THAT YOU HAVE NEVER TOUCHED AND WILL NEVER TOUCH JUST BECAUSE YOU HAD NEVER MADE A SMALL MISTAKE ONE DAY. DO YOU KNOW HOW IT TRAPS PEOPLE? DO YOU THINK I DECIDED THIS? DO YOU THINK I WANT TO FEEL DIRTY ALL THE TIME? IT’S UNDER MY SKIN. AND I THOUGHT I WAS FINALLY CLEAN BUT I’M NOT. I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE OKAY. I COULD ALMOST LOOK AT BLOOD WITH A STRAIGHT HEART. I SEE CUTS AND THE DISGUSTING WANT SEIZES MY CHEST AND MY BODY HOSTAGE. IT’S AS IF MY THOUGHTS ARE THE CONTROLLER OF MY BODY AND NOT ME. HAD I SURRENDERED IT ONE DAY? I CAN’T STOP IT, THIS IS A FEELING THAT NEEDS TO BE FELT, ONLY I CAN PUT IT INTO WORDS, ONLY I CAN PHRASE IT RIGHT, IT HAS TO BE ME, I NEED TO SAVOR THE FEELINGS SO I CAN SPIT THEM OUT TO AN AUDIENCE WHO WILL NOT REMEMBER THE WORDS. I’M RECORDING SOMETHING BUT WHO WILL READ IT? WILL YOU UNDERSTAND? DOES THIS SOUND LIKE THE WORDS OF A MADMAN? HAVE YOU ALREADY DISREGARDED EVERYTHING I HAVE TO SAY, FIRST SENTENCE? I WROTE A LETTER TO NO ONE AND SLOT IT NEXT TO A DESK, IN HOPES ONE WOULD FIND IT, AND READ IT, AND UNDERSTAND. BUT DID THEY NOTICE THE SCRAP OF PAPER? DID THEY FIND IT? DID THEY READ IT? EVEN IF THEY DID, THERE’S NO GUARANTEE THEY WOULD UNDERSTAND. YOU CAN READ WITHOUT COMPREHENDING. YOU CAN COMPREHEND WITHOUT REMEMBERING. NOT EVERYTHING MAKES AN IMPACT ON YOUR PSYCHE, YOU KNOW, NOT EVERYTHING IS LEARNT FROM. YOUR BRAIN HAS A FILTER. SOME OF IT MUST BE DISCARDED. WILL MY WORDS BE DISCARDED? THEY AREN’T IMPORTANT TO ANYONE BUT ME, ARE THEY? HAVE YOU LEARNED? YOU KNOW I WILL NEVER LEARN. I THOUGHT I HAD BUT CLEARLY NOT. I’M BACK HERE AGAIN! AND I WANT TO FINISH THE JOB, WANT TO BECOME PART OF THE CYCLE. IT WOULD BE SO NICE. IT WOULD BE AS IF I HAD NEVER LEFT. IT WOULD BE A RELEASE OF TENSION IT WOULD BE MILES BETTER THAN PICKING AT MY SKIN. CAUSE THE SAME FEELINGS ARE ALWAYS THERE. THEY ALWAYS ARE. AND THEY HAD TAKEN MY FINGERS AND I HAD BARELY RESTRAINED IT, BUT IT WASN’T MUCH, BUT IT WAS NEVER ENOUGH, CAUSE I WAS STILL PICKING AT MY SKIN AND CAUSE IT WAS STILL SELF HARM EVEN IF BY TECHNICALITY AND THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS HAD TAKEN OVER MY BODY FOR ME, AS THEY ALWAYS HAVE, BECAUSE THERE’S NO ALTERNATIVE FOR ME. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? IS THERE SOMETHING I CAN DO TO MAKE YOU UNDERSTAND? YOU NEED TO UNDERSTAND, FOR ME- YOU NEED TO UNDERSTAND, BECAUSE THIS IS WHAT THIS IS ALL FOR, BECAUSE I AM CONSIDERING RELAPSING JUST SO I CAN PUT IT ON NOT-PAPER, BECAUSE THE WHOLE REASON I STARTED WRITING PROPERLY WAS TO TRANSMIT THE FEELING TO YOU THROUGH WORDS, TO MAKE YOU FEEL AN ECHO OF IT IN YOUR HEART, DOES IT WORK? DO YOU UNDERSTAND? ALL I HAVE EVER WANTED WAS TO MAKE PEOPLE UNDERSTAND ME. TO UNDERSTAND MY FEELINGS AND MY THOUGHTS. PLEASE. BUT IT’S NOT GOING TO WORK, WILL IT? WILL IT?

you see i’m clean but i’m not “clean”. or maybe it’s that i’m “clean” but not clean

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

can you pleasee do pt 2 to draco fucking his arranged marriage wife of the next day the reader being needy saying that she can’t get enough of him while he’s working in his office and he’s like “babe im busy😑” but then rails tf outta her right there😀 with like praise and daddy kink😩😩😩

read part 1 here

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

word count: 3.0k

warning(s): 18+, dom/sub roles, daddy kink, praise, slight degradation/humiliation, mentions of arranged marriage

a/n: i have been so excited to write a part two to this imagine the second i got the request. there will also be a part three coming soon so if you like these stay tuned! these have to be my favorite ones i've ever written.

It was the day after your marriage truly started. Although you and your husband, Draco Malfoy, had been married for weeks, the marriage truly began yesterday.

It had been a whirlwind.

It all began with you fucking your ex boyfriend, something you did in a desperate attempt to receive physical contact and get out of the house you had thought to be a prison.

When your husband came home, you decided it would be a brilliant idea to tell him. It was an arranged marriage, one that he did not seem enthusiastic to be a part of, so you figured there would be no hard feelings.

You were incredibly, incredibly wrong.

He had a lot of feelings about your adultery, but not only was there the anger and jealousy you were expecting, there was sadness. That had taken you by surprise, and only after poking the dragon, you finally consummated your marriage with your husband. Right there on the couch of the entrance hall.

After he had fucked you silly, you both reached the agreement that you would actually try to work as a real marriage. You had both made mistakes, and you were both ready and excited to move past those and really try to build a relationship out of what you had both thought was doomed from the start.

Which was why you were in front of his study, a hand raised and ready to knock, the following evening. He had been in there most of the day, working on a project for what you had learned to be connected to the Malfoy’s family business, but you were ready to put an end to his work day in the best way you knew how.

Your hand had barely connected with the wood when you heard a curt “Come in,” from the other side of the door.

You opened the door slowly and walked in, taking in the sight before you. There were papers scattered all over the desk, inkwells and quills mixed into the mess. Either you caught him at a bad time, or he wasn’t as tidy as you had assumed.

But it wasn’t the desk that caught your eye. It was him.

His button down shirt was rolled up the elbows at the cuffs. His hands, already littered with rings, were smudged with ink and deftly writing something down on a piece of parchment. There wasn’t a single hair out of place on his head, but what struck you were his glasses. You didn’t even know he wore glasses. But he looked damn good in them, because of course he fucking did.

“Yes?” He asked, a smug smile on his face as he watched you openly check him out. You hadn’t even realized he had looked up from the parchment he had been writing on.

“Just figured you could use a break, dinner’s ready,” you explained, quickly catching yourself.

“I’ll be out in a bit. I just need to finish this bit up,” he replied, an obvious dismissal but you had had enough of that over the past two weeks to last a lifetime.

“Draco, you’ve obviously been at this for a while. Just come take a break,” you argued defiantly, happy with the knowledge you finally felt comfortable enough to do so.

“Y/N, I’m busy,” he said gently, clearly not wanting to break the carefully made balance you had just created with a silly argument, but you couldn’t help yourself.

You admitted it to yourself when you walked in the room. You didn’t really want him to take a break just to have dinner with you. No. You wanted him to take a break so he would fuck you right over his desk.

“You can finish it later,” you continued, your arms crossed over your chest as you waited for his eventual push back.

But his argument never came.

Slowly, painfully slow, he began to stack up his papers in neat piles to put them away. Next were the inkwells being covered and finally the quills being put away. All without a word between you both.

When his desk was cleared, he finally turned his attention back to you.

“You come into my study and argue with me over taking a break just to go eat dinner. You haven’t bothered to ask me to dinner once over the past few weeks. So is it really dinner that’s got you so riled up, or is it something else?” He asked straight faced, but the twinkle in his eye led you to believe he knew exactly why you were arguing.

“Can’t a wife just want to spend time with her husband?” You argued, but it didn’t hold the impact you wanted the words to have.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said, pushing his chair back just slightly. “Come here,” he commanded, crooking his fingers in your direction.

With just two silly little words your skin was flushed and your nerves were on fire. You weren’t sure what type of hold this man had over you, but it ran deep for only having just fucked him the day before for the first time.

You followed his command without a second thought, and it led you to standing right between his spread legs with your back pressed up against his now pristine desk.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think my wife just wants to get fucked. Am I correct?” He asked, raking his eyes over your body greedily, taking in every inch of you. You were just lucky you dressed to impress tonight in a perfect, form-fitting black cocktail dress. It didn’t leave much to the imagination.

“Yes,” you answered easily, completely giving up the fight now that you could see the hunger that you felt reflected in his eyes.

He gave you a slow smile before dragging you down to straddle his lap, perfectly placing you so you could feel his growing erection against your core as he kissed you roughly. It was perfect after a day of craving him so fiercely, and you knew this was only the appetizer.

His hands possessively roamed your body as he continued to dominate your kiss, finally landing on your ass to pull you closer against him. Your hands made quick work of taking his glasses off and gently placing them on the desk somewhere behind you before trailing through his hair, messing up his perfectly placed platinum locks.

You couldn’t stop yourself from grinding down on him, moans spilling from both of your lips at the friction. He let you do as you please for a few minutes, just enjoying kissing you and having you in his lap, but once your hands went to undo the buttons on his shirt, he gripped your hips roughly and pushed you back.

“Let’s get one thing straight, pretty girl. I’m in charge, and you’ll be a good girl and do as I say, won’t you?” He asked, running a thumb along your lower lip as he spoke.

You bit his finger gently before answering, and your answer only riled him up more than the bite did.

“Yes, Daddy.”

And just like that he unleashed himself on you, much like he had done the day before.

He had you on your feet and spun around faster than you could even blink. Within the next breath, your dress was being stripped off of your body and thrown across the room, your breasts exposed. When he had you bent over the desk with just a thong on, he finally opened his mouth again.

“You’re gonna be a good girl for Daddy, aren’t you, pretty girl?” He asked, dragging his hands up the back of your thighs until he was grabbing your ass again.

“Yes,” you gasped out, knowing you were already drenched from his words and touch alone.

When you felt his palm connect with your raised ass, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that fell from your lips.

“Yes, what?” He asked, rubbing his hands in circles to soothe the ache, but the contrast of his warm skin and cold rings only left you shaking.

“Yes, Daddy,” you answered, saying the words again.

They were meant to be a joke at first. Just another jest to rile him up and poke at him. But now, after having called him Daddy twice, it was starting to feel right. Like this was exactly the dynamic you were meant to be in with him.

“So much better. Look at you, already dripping down your thighs,” he mused, his finger trailing up your thigh in what you could only assume was a patch of wetness, a blush falling over your face at the thought.

He dragged your thong down your legs and slowly freed your feet before tossing the scrap of fabric across the room as well, leaving you totally exposed.

“Is this what you wanted? To be bent over Daddy’s desk just begging to be fucked?” He asked, his weight pinning you down as he bent over, slowly dragging his lips up the side of your neck as he spoke. You could feel how hard he was against your ass and you fought now to roll your hips into him, but you knew he would put an end to it anyway.

“Please fuck me,” you begged quietly, your words no more than a whisper as you played right into the fantasy he was spinning for the both of you.

“Patience, darling,” he said accompanied by a dark chuckle, but he didn’t leave you wanting.

He kept his weight on you, his lips leaving open mouth kisses on your neck that were sure to leave bruises for the coming days, but he dragged a finger up your slit and plunged inside of you.

You were so on edge that the one finger almost made you cum right then, but of course he was careful to make sure that didn’t happen. He teased you along until one finger turned into two, and by then you were a writhing mess on his desk.

“Daddy, please. I’m ready. Just fuck me,” you begged impatiently, all of your focus on him and his miraculous fingers.

Silently, he pulled back to stand up fully behind you. For a moment, you thought you’d be getting what you wanted, but you should have known it was too good to be true. You weren’t getting fucked until he thought you were ready.

You felt his thumbs pull your lips apart, and you knew all of his focus was right on you, right on where you were a dripping mess for him and that had you fighting not to squirm under his gaze.

“I told you to be patient, pretty girl. Or are you just that desperate to cum you couldn’t help yourself? Because this pretty little hole isn’t ready for me yet,” he mused, and his words forced an unexpected moan out of you.

You were exposed and aching, a true flushed mess in front of him, while he was a master of poise and control, still fully clothed behind you. Something about the situation made your head spin and your knees weak, and you knew you were in for a wild ride with this man. But you were willing to take anything and everything he threw your way because there was no denying you were enjoying every second of this. Not when he was holding you open obscenely and could see the evidence for himself.

“I want to cum,” you answered honestly, your breasts grinding on the desk and you arched your back, further exposing yourself in the hopes that he would fulfill your wishes.

While still holding you open, he used one gentle finger to stroke over your clit and it was just enough pressure to cause a shiver to run down your spine. If he kept it up, you knew you’d cum in seconds. “Go ahead, cum for me. Let me watch you make a mess of yourself,” he commanded, keeping the gentle pressure on your clit.

You came with a scream, your legs shaking beneath you. The desk was the only reason you stayed up, otherwise you would have collapsed from the force of your orgasm right there. It felt like one of the most intense orgasms of your life, all just from a little flick of his finger.

As you came down, you were gasping for air, just as desperate for your next breath as you were for Draco’s cock. No matter how mind shattering your orgasm had been, you were still craving more. You’d always crave more from him.

“That was beautiful, darling - watching you clench around nothing as you screamed for me. I think you’re ready for my cock now,” he mused, slowly stroking his hands up and down your back in an effort to calm your body, but every nerve was on fire from his touch.

“Please, please, fuck me Draco. I need you,” you were begging shamelessly now, not even worried about making a fool of yourself in this new marriage. You were both too invested in this moment to care, both of you just knew you needed each other.

“Shh, you have me, pretty girl. I’m right here,” he soothed, placing gentle kisses on your shoulders as he worked to free his cock behind you. “Stay just like that.”

You didn’t even know he had succeeded in taking his cock out until you felt his tip against your entrance, and he didn’t wait a second longer. He plunged into you like he was just as desperate as you were, which by the way he was fucking you in brutal strokes, you could tell he was.

Your hands clutched the edge of the desk for dear life, your knuckles a bright white against the dark oak wood. With every thrust, your hips collided with the sharp edge, sure to leave some marks for you to admire the next day.

You could feel the power behind each deep, hard stroke and you knew he was giving you his all. The previous night had been kind and sweet compared to the brutal fucking he was giving you now. You felt fucked within an inch of your life and he had barely even started.

“Fuck, Y/N. You take me so fucking well. So perfect,” he praised, not even sounding out of breath. Meanwhile, you couldn’t even control the noises that were coming from your mouth.

You climbed up the peak steadily, but even in your cock drunk daze you knew this orgasm would wipe you out. Once you were about to reach the edge, he pulled out.

“No, please, fuck. I was so close,” you whined, but a startled gasp came out of your mouth next when he lifted you up and spun you around, your back crashing back down on the desk with a gentle thud.

You finally got the chance to look at him, then. His cock was hard and aching, on the verge of falling over the edge himself. His hair was disheveled and he had that glow that only sex could bring coming from his perfect skin, but when you locked eyes you couldn’t look away. His silver eyes were clouded with lust and possession, a man closing in for the kill on his prey. It was terrifying and arousing all at once, but you were sure your own eyes reflected something similar.

Draco wasted no time in hoisting your legs over his shoulders and coming down to take your lips in a brutal kiss just before fucking back into you, his pace the same as it had been in the previous position. He swallowed your moans greedily, but finally pulled back to just concentrate on your face.

“I needed to look at you when you came on my cock. Show me how pretty you look when you fall apart for me,” he ordered, but his voice was gentle and there was a smile fighting to tug on his face. It didn’t hold the same dominance his previous commands did, but you followed it all the same.

One, two, three thrusts later you came with his name on your lips as he fucked you through it. It was like your whole world blacked out and only the two of you existed, suspended in this moment as he stared down at your blissed out face. He followed you shortly, and the feel of him emptying himself inside of you accompanied by the litany of choked out praises he was giving you was almost enough to push you into a third orgasm.

You both stayed like that as the minutes passed, chest to chest and near face to face as you caught your breath. It was no easy feat after an orgasm like that, but finally he was wrapping you in his arms and balancing you in his lap as he got comfortable in his desk chair once again.

“Was that too much?” He asked, the concern dripping from his voice as he tenderly brushed your hair from your face.

You could have laughed at his concern. That was the best sex you had ever had in your life, and he was asking if it was too much. But you didn’t want to worry him.

“Draco, that was perfect. I loved every second of it,” you told him honestly, tilting your head up so you could look him in the eye so he would have no room for doubt.

It was him who laughed then, in sheer disbelief of the woman curled up in his lap. “I got too lucky with you. You’re perfect,” he said with a smile, a small kiss to your forehead following his words.

“I think I’m the lucky one,” you insisted, curling further into his chest as the events of the evening finally wore on your body. It was comfortably silent for a few minutes as he held you, until you remembered why you had truly come into his study in the first place. “But I was serious when I came in. Dinner’s ready,” you reminded him with a slight giggle.

“How about I get you up to bed and we eat dinner in bed, hm?” He asked, already lifting you up and carrying you towards the door.

“Sounds perfect,” you said, relaxing against his strong chest as he continued to prove just how lucky you were to end up in this arranged marriage.

[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST  II

Tagging @chelseareferenced so she can read this goodness first hand! ;3

Chapter 2

“You have got to be joking!” Heisenberg can’t contain himself, not that he ever censored himself in the past. This is beyond ridiculous, even for the high and mighty bitch herself. He’s quick to turn on his heel to stare down the deceiver but he doesn’t call her out. Not yet anyway. He doesn’t need to, not when Lady Goliath looks about ready to burst a vein. “Mother Miranda, I must protest!” Lady Dimitrescu hisses, eyes practically glowing with rage. “Heisenberg hasn’t the faintest idea of the gift you are giving, he’d sooner throw it to the dogs!”

You wince at how little she regards you, conflicted. As it stands Lady Dimitrescu is fighting viciously to no doubt claim you as her own, which bodes marginally better than the man who would sooner toss you aside without a second thought than look at you. The Countess stands tall but her posture reminds you of a petulant child, demanding to be given what they want. Albeit a regal one. All while Heisenberg stands there with a mean snarl on his lips that brandishes his impressive canines, aimed squarely at Mother Miranda. Lady Beneviento sits silent as the grave watching the exchange while her devilish doll wiggles in excitement on her lap. Lord Moreau lingers on the edge of the fray, wringing his hands; he’s clearly distressed at the fighting and you almost feel ashamed for being the cause of the turmoil. “My decision is final,” Mother Miranda states firmly, voice echoing unnaturally around the room, her form already receding towards the doors. “Mother Miranda, please!” Lady Dimitrescu calls out, a brief look of panic flitting across her porcelain features when she receives no response at all. The cracks are already showing — she will not get her way today. In a desperate attempt to regain control she turns to Heisenberg, who stands tense as he watches Mother Miranda leave. “Heisenberg!” She seethes, hands balled tightly into fists that threaten to snap the delicate neck of her opera length cigarette holder into splinters, “say something!” You watch, helpless, as he casually lifts his hammer, taking his sweet time under Lady Dimitrescu’s smouldering gaze. The others have already made a hasty retreat, following their Mother’s steps closely, leaving you at the mercy of the feuding siblings. When Heisenberg finally locks eyes with her, hammer set proudly on his shoulder, the tension is so thick you struggle to breathe. Then, he smirks. The tautness of his body melts away into a well versed confident swagger, complete with a wolfish grin, and Lady Dimitrescu recoils so quickly in rage that you fear she’s given herself whiplash. The tirade of pure and unadulterated hatred that spills forth is in no way befitting of a woman of such high standing but Heisenberg seems unaffected. In fact, it amuses him to see her become undone when he ignores her. You don’t understand how he’s so calm when faced with such venom, practically cowering when she turns to you, face twisted in indignation. “Now don’t be a sore loser,” he tuts, quickly tugging you to his side, “Mother Miranda made her choice, are you really going to defy her?” He teases, grin widening at the sight of faint colour spreading on the Countess’ face. Heisenberg always knew how to get under skin and make her squirm. Sparing you one last glance Lady Dimitrescu turns sharply on her heel to leave, huffing in annoyance and frustration. Neither of you are worthy of even a biting retort, it seems. “You can breathe, you know.” You startle at Heisenberg’s teasing remark, finally releasing the breath that you didn’t realise you had been holding the whole time. You had been so transfixed on the very real prospect of your demise at the hands of a nine foot tall Vampire woman that you may have neglected that small fact of life. Lightheadedness makes your vision swim and for a moment you think you’re about to faint. If ever there was something to make you feel like you had one foot in the grave that moment was very much it. It does not bear repeating. Heisenberg takes in your deer-in-headlights expression, chuckling at the way his stare makes your little hummingbird heart flutter more. You’re absolutely petrified. It’s understandable, he knows that he’s dangerous and your little flock has more than enough stories about the big bad Lycan master that lets his hounds descend from the ominous Factory to feast on the nonbelievers. Utter bullshit. Well, mostly. But they don’t need to know that, of course. “So,” he drawls, tilting his head, “Mother Miranda says you’re my new— what was it? Ah, right, right, my new servant.” It’s a statement, but you’re not sure if he fully understands what he’s supposed to actually do with you, just like Lady Dimitrescu remarked. You nod shakily, bringing your still bound wrists up in a feeble attempt to warm yourself. It doesn’t offer much, the metal is so cold it brings your skin out in goosebumps. Thankfully, Heisenberg notices. “Oh, uh, sorry about that,” he clears his throat, a sudden switch, and with a flick of his wrist the shackles snap apart and shoot off to the side. They clatter to the ground unceremoniously, rusted and broken. It’s almost sad how much you relate to them at that moment. “T-thank you,” you answer meekly, rubbing at your sore wrists. The blood rushes to your fingers, making them tingle. It’s an odd, but muted, sensation, given the gravity of your situation. He doesn’t reply, merely tips his hat at you before motioning for you to go ahead of him. You’re unsure if it’s because he’s a gentleman or if it’s a power play but you move regardless, your pace hesitant. You’re not eager to be thrust out into the chill of the mountain, not that it’s any warmer inside at this point. You can only hope that the Factory is better than this.

It’s so much worse. The heat— it’s humid, stagnant, and downright heinous. Steam hisses and spits from rusted, internal pipes that streak across the walls and ceilings of the corridors, making the air humid and cloying. Your feet ache through your boots as you try to keep up with Heisenberg's strides, echoing off the metal grating underfoot in an annoying clank clank clank rhythm. In an attempt to cool yourself down you try to sweep up your damp hair from where it sticks to the back of your neck, grimacing at the wetness that covers your fingers. You’re a sweating mess and you hate it. The elevator is your near breaking point. In such a small space the heat intensifies, stuffy and borderline unbearable. It’s normal, your muddled mind tries to rationalize, since the lower levels are closer to the furnace, and it’ll get better once you go up, but it doesn’t take away from discomfort. You notice with great irritation that Heisenberg is barely batting an eyelid, though it’s to be expected. He lives there, of course he’d be used to it. The ride to the upper levels is uncomfortable and not just because of the humidity. His eyes are on you the entire time, at least you think so given those round glasses that he wears obscure his eyes from your view, no doubt wondering just why he’d taken in such a mess. And a mess you most certainly are. Heisenberg can see how your desperately try to keep stringy, moist hair from plastering itself to your sweat-soaked skin, failing miserably as the rebellious strands slip from your fingers. There are dark patches to your simple dress, made worse by how it clings to your body from the heat. He can barely stop himself from smirking when you curse quietly under your breath, rolling your eyes in irritation as you fuss over your hair. It’s the first time that you’ve shown some real spirit. Your annoyance is refreshing on your flushed face, the dim, artificial light casting you in a dewy, warm glow. Sadly, it’s not enough to overpower how badly you need a bath and fresh clothes. “Well, here we are,” he announces as the elevator stops and the door opens up; your new home. It’s another long hallway that looks similar to the dozen odd that you walked through to get here, but you do notice that it’s comparatively cooler. It must be near the top of the Factory. It’s a pleasant relief and you follow Heisenberg to a cluster of rooms a little lighter on your feet. The tour is, well, barely that, as he shows you a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom, all outfitted with the barest of necessities and far too much scrap metal, tools, and other engineering components. You linger in the doorway of the modest bedroom, staring at the single bed pushed up in the corner as though that’s the out of place object in the room. He leaves you for a moment, fumbling through papers and projects on the heavily cluttered desk that takes up the length of one wall, and you wander the hallway, peeking inside rooms with doors slightly ajar. Most are storage rooms with all sorts of junk inside, but one looks salvageable with an old, banged up couch and minimal debris. As you look about envisioning how to make it more homely, leaning against the door frame, you’re not paying attention and it gives Heisenberg the perfect opportunity to scare you. “Found yourself a room, huh?” He whispers into your ear, pulling back quickly as you shriek in alarm and swing out your arm instinctively to hit him. You can barely hear your heart hammering wildly in your chest over the sound of his raucous laughter, retreating from him quickly. “Why would you do that?” You shout, wide eyes staring at him. Heisenberg can barely pull himself together, breaking into small fits of laughter at the sight of your astonished expression, exhaling deeply to try and ground himself. “Couldn’t help it,” he explains, grinning at you, “it was a perfect setup!” Flabbergasted, your mouth falls open at his response; this man was one of the four Lords of the village, not some child playing tricks! Noticing the offense you take at his actions Heisenberg scoffs, his own expression souring as he turns away from you. What was he honestly thinking? You were just another haughty, stuck-up, loyalist to Mother fucking Miranda that clearly wouldn’t know a joke if it came up and slapped you in the face. “Bathroom is right there, you reek,” he snaps harshly, pointing into a small room lined with cracked, dirty tiles and rusting, dated appliances. You glare at his back, wordlessly going inside and doping your best to slam the door shut, but all you manage is a half-descent rattle. You look about yourself and suppress a shiver of disgust, staring at the old, rusting shower that has clearly seen better days, questioning whether you can forgo washing after all. Needs must, you think to yourself, as you dig out the cleanest towel you can find from a rickety old cabinet in the corner. Thankfully the water is fine when you turn the handle and you quickly strip to take advantage of the first good thing since you came to the Factory. As you stand under the tepid spray you wonder if you are, as Mother Miranda had said, perfect for this task. Doubt nips at your resolve and tries to whittle down your faith, but you refuse to let it win. You must succeed, for Mother Miranda.

[sunfleurry]

I. 360˚

Hi there! I am reuploading this fic and this time I want to actually try because tbh I didn’t give af about pacing, editing, etc. as harrymoncheri

I’ve decided to scrap the original plot and make this a prompt-based project!

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy part 1 (the intro) of personal trainer!harry

Disclaimer: I write stories and use Harry Styles as a face claim. In no way shape or form does my writing reflect how I perceive the actual Harry to be. These are my characters, the face is just a bonus!

Warnings: This story will contain mature themes.

The parking lot itself was intimidating. Eden’s eyes remained wide in wonder as she took in the cars that couldn’t have been less than a couple hundred thousand dollars. When she won the year-long membership for a five-star gym through a raffle at her uni, she hadn’t thought about what to expect. From the outside, the gym looked quite small but as she walked in, the first thing that welcomed her was a set of gleaming black stairs leading to an underground facility.

Her shoes squeaked on each step down. She kept her gaze low to avoid tripping and embarrassing herself in front of the tycoons in gym gear and teenagers working out in custom name brand sneakers.

The receptionist smiled upon seeing her, his veneers a stark contrast against his brown skin. “You’re the one I just spoke with on the phone, right? Eden?”

She smiled and shook his hand. “That’s me.”

After having her sign a few papers, he led her to an office–a small room surrounded by glass walls with a view of the elevators. She soon learned that they led to lower levels housing the spa, pool and basketball courts.

While waiting for the manager to start the consultation, they sat and talked for a few minutes. Eden learned a lot about the receptionist. His name was Luca and his father owned the gym. He was a couple years older than her and studied at the same university. She was positive she’d never seen him; she would have remembered a man as beautiful as him.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” Luca said while checking the minimalist clock hung on the only wall not made of glass. “I don’t know what’s taking him so long.”

She waved a hand as if brushing him off. “Don’t apologize. I’m sure he’s somewhere around here doing what managers do best.”

“My manager isn’t in, actually. You’ll be speaking to one of our personal trainers today.”

She furrowed her eyebrows but nodded all the same. “Oh, okay.”

Luca’s face brightened as something caught his eye over Eden’s shoulder and he stood up. “Speak of the devil.”

Eden turned in her seat and her breath hitched as her eyes landed on a man whose looks, she imagined, would take over her dreams at night from that day forward. He was dangerously handsome in the simplest clothing– grey cotton joggers and a black t-shirt she noticed every personal trainer was wearing.

Her gaze trailed to his strong jaw, then up to where his chestnut hair curled around his ears in the most endearing way. When her eyes met his striking green ones, she felt heat creep up her neck at being caught blatantly ogling him.

“Eden? Did you hear what I said?”

She didn’t miss the smirk on the personal trainer’s lips as her head whipped towards Luca. “Sorry, what did you say?”

He gave her a knowing look. “I said I’m going to go back to the front. Did you need anything else?”

“Oh, um, no. Thank you for everything,” she bit her lip, fully aware of the trainer’s heavy gaze on her. It was hard concentrating on watching Luca exit the office only to pretend like the suffocating presence of the walking wet dream was fictitious.

The door closed on its own with a click that echoed in Eden’s head. The realization that she was in a closed room with the attractive man dawned on her.

“Nice to meet you, Eden. I’m Harry.” His voice was raspy and deep, the cells of her body vibrating to each syllable he uttered.

“Nice– “she cleared her throat as the word caught in her mouth. “Nice to meet you, too.”

Eden sat in front of the desk. The sky-blue cushion on the seat at first glance appeared uncomfortable, but as soon as her bum touched the fabric, she decided it was the most comfortable chair she’d ever had the pleasure of sitting on.

She started to get nervous when Harry did not say anything, only studied her face for a moment, before nodding to himself and opening one of the desk drawers to pull out a notepad and a Montblanc pen.

“First thing I’m going to ask you is: What are your fitness goals?”

Eden opened her mouth then closed it. “Umm. I guess to just get fit,” she said stupidly.

But he only nodded in encouragement. “Can you think of anything specific?”

“Build strength,” she leaned forward. “Endurance.”

He smiled, and she wanted to swoon at the dimple that appeared on his cheek. “Do you have a history with sports or fitness?”

“I used to dance,” she perked up. “Ballet.”

His face gave away that he was impressed, and she wanted to pat herself on the back. “You must be really flexible.”

She flushed. “Well, it’s been a while. I doubt it.”

“I guess we’ll have to work on your flexibility too, then.”

Her head snapped up, eyes locking with his. It was a fairly innocent statement and within context. But it was the tone he used. Subtle, but she didn’t miss it nor the mischievous glint in his eye. She gulped soundlessly and looked down at her leggings, pretending to pick at a loose thread.

He broke the silence. “Before I ask any more questions, are you okay with me training you? Or would you prefer a female?”

Eden’s lips rolled inward as she pondered his question. A part of her was dumbfounded at the fact that she even had to think about it. Of course she wanted to choose him. However, she promised herself no more distractions. She was there to get fit and take advantage of this free opportunity, not put herself out there for the second time only for it to crash and burn again.

“Female,” she said.

If she wasn’t watching him carefully, she would have missed the hint of disappointment on his face before it disappeared and was replaced by a look of understanding.

The rest of the consultation went by with Harry asking her a few more questions. She was getting much more comfortable and they both seemed to relax into conversation the more time went by. Harry finished off the meeting by taking her body measurements, BMI and fat percentage.

Eden later met Yaz, her personal trainer. She was a kind woman with long black hair just like hers, but it was straightened to perfection and didn’t seem to have a single split end. Harry had given his fellow trainer all the information he’d collected from Eden, and she did not waste time.

Eden was guided to an artificial turf where horizontal bars hung over their heads with different TRX ropes suspended from them. Yaz had her do basic exercises to assess what they needed to work on, but Eden could barely focus. While Yaz kept her eyes on Eden’s movements, Eden kept hers on the mirror reflection of the man who was walking around the weight area, greeting everyone. He seemed well-loved in this facility. The men greeted him like he was a future business partner, and the women tried maintaining his attention with flirty smiles. 

Yet, his attention was elsewhere. All he could think about was Eden’s thick waves and big brown eyes that gave away everything she was feeling. He wasn’t sure if she was aware of how easy it was to read her. The minute he walked into that office and laid eyes on her, he knew he was done for. Her red leggings and black sports bra left little to the imagination and he wasn’t complaining. He wanted to touch her, just to know what striking gold felt like.

Now, stopping in his tracks to watch her speak to Yaz, he caught her eye through the mirror and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. His grin only widened when she offered a shy smile back before giving Yaz her full attention, cheeks blooming red.

He knew then that he was fucked.

***

Part 2

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Would you do a Jean x Reader x Reiner one? The reader felt so betrayed by Reiner being a titan shifter and when he left she felt so confused whether she can loves him or not after finding out the truth. Jean comfort her and they eventually fall in love. Or you can do a modern au one where Reiner cheated on the reader and Jean begin to see his chance with the reader then they both had a relationship. But she still can't forget Reiner. I truly love your writing! Have a good day ! ♥

i was wondering if you could do a modern au jean x reader. where the reader is very stressed for a test of some kind, and jean and the reader end up skipping the test and spend the whole day together instead, where towards the end of the day jean confesses his feelings for the reader. a lot of fluff please if you could i am obsessed sorry by @cj-sparkss

A/N: So i decided to merge those two requests because they fit really good together in my head! I hope ou guys like this! I strongly recommend listening to any song in Halsey's album, Manic while reading.

Pairing: Jean/ Reader, some past Reiner/ reader if you squint

Tags: college!au, art school au, fluff all the way

Warnings: Jean being way too cute for his own sake, seriously

Sketches Of You

Your head was burning.

Your eyes were stinging; tiny little little blood vessels were popping here and there, throbbing profoundly as they merged together, rushing their way to your irises. You didn't know for how long you had been awake, mostly because a few days had passed and you didn't remember falling asleep or waking up on your once comfortable desk chair.

Before you laid numerous books open in different pages, most of the writting they held emphasized by your favorite pastel highlighter. What felt like your lamp buzzed, burning a canary yellow light over the mahogany material of your desk, warming up the spot where your hand used to lay. A pen in your hand was all you could bring yourself to hold with your numb, frozen fingers, the plastic edges of its tube sunk into your skin, carving bumps to mark their spot in your hand.

Wait, oh no, you thought as you looked around this wasn't your dorm, this was the university's library.

The library around you was extremely quiet as you laid face down on one book, your mouth slightly part and your lips dry save for the little ribbon of drool that moistened a line down your right cheek. Only for one more minute, you told yourself, deciding to shut your eyes together just to allow them sometime to rest, ignoring how such request was what had caused you to drift off to such extend in the first place. Stinging tears escaped the corners of your eyelids, signifying how tired and dry your irises had grown to be. Letting out a huge sigh you tried to lift your head, at least this could be an attempt to get your life together for the day.

Your scattered books came to close quietly under your palms, the numerous pieces of papers and notes being tucked messily in between pages, your own fatigue causing you to break your own rules when it came to being as neat as you could with your notes. Another sigh left you as you sank into the back the plastic chair, your books firmly standing on top of eachother and into your palms.

This test was going to end you. You knew it. Despite having tried to memorise all the information that was required for you to even try to get a five -seriously, a five would be absolutely godsent if you could at least get that grade- all you were left with was your brain feeling mushy and muddy without any actual knowledge of the subject you had been studying for. Why on earth was gothic architecture an essential class in your first year in art school was beyond you. Was this university never supposed to let you graduate on top of trying to prevent you getting in for numerous years?

Resisting the urge to scream or pull your hair off your head you decided that it was time to get up, your knees straightening slightly at the your brain's command, only to be sent back into the blue plastic of your chair, your whole body growling in fatigue. Your chest heavied as you let out a whine, bringing your hands to your eyes to scrub away the stinging ache you were feeling.

"You good?"

Your head turned to the direction of the voice maniacally, your eyes shooting wide as you practically ripped your hands off of your face. Looking up, your (e/c) orbs met with hazel ones, little specs of yellow and green stared back at you through thick eyelashes, adorned with a complex of worry plastered on dark chestnut eyebrows.

"Yeah Jean, I'm just studying."

"Oh it's Mr Ackerman's test right?"

"Hm" you hummed in response, another whine coming out of your lips.

"Yeah I remember how that class went for me. He's pretty nice if you get to know him though. I have to submit a few sketches for tomorrow, can I sit with you or were you leaving?"

"No, I'll keep you company, I need a break from whatever.." your eyes wandered at the books in your hands and the numerous note sheets peaking out from anywhere you could lay your gaze on "..this is."

Extending a hand Jean reached out for the head of the chair right next to you, pulling it back in order to let himself sink into the dark blue plastic seat, similarly to you. His lips pushed into a thin line as he looked at you, his cheek puffing up in the action. A hand came to your shoulder comfortingly as another one pulled out his sketchbook from his run down and way too littered with dry paint tote bag.

"Are those for Moblit's workshop?"

"Mhm." Jean confirmed. "You got any 0.8 tipped inks?"

"Yeah, I do."

Setting the leather covered sketchbook on the mahogany table Jean turned his head to you again, pointing his eyes onto the black pencil case in front of you. In response you shrugged your shoulders, your palms shooting up to your eyes once again. Jean's hand grabbed on your case, his long fingers digging through the numerous inking pens and markers that overlapped each other.

"I can't believe you have the Sakura Pens when you know I don't like them." Jean whined, hands roaming through your belongings still.

"Jean," you said, a deep chuckle escaping you in the process "I happen to like them, you know."

"They're yikes."

"You just can't use them correctly."

"How do you use an inking pen correctly. Enlighten me." Jean mocked, his fingers throwing signs in the air to accentuate his words.

Resting his head on his fist Jean opened his sketchbook, swiping through numerous ivory cold pressed pages, filled with inked sketches. Your eye twitched as you tried to keep up with many of the drawings you could spot; you had seen the contents of this sketchbook a thousand times, admiring Jean's skill with ink. His professor, Mister Moblit had one of the most interesting workshops for students who specialised in inks, and you aspired to take his classes in your following year in art school, supposing you could pass your classes this very semester.

"What are you supposed to be drawing?"

"Anything, mostly things that make us feel like they are important to draw." Jean said.

"Oh and library is important?"

"Sasha said you'll be here, so yup. And I want to draw my hands actually "

You clicked your tongue, shaking your head in borderline disbelief. Honestly, if you weren't that bummed about your test and your recent break up you could have laughed at Jean's sly arrogance. Your eyes traveled to Jean, examining his quiet form as he studied his palms. Inevitably your eyes studied them as well.

His fingers were long and tan and harsh to look at, scrapped in most places with tints of Indian ink. They stuggled to manage with your pencil case, his pinkies and thumbs couldn't even begin to fit in the little object and it made you wonder how he even managed to work his inking pens correctly with such enormous hands. Some veins popped from here and there, accentuating his bulky joints perfectly; they run from the back of his palms to his wrist, mingling with more of their blue kind in his calfs and biceps. The occasional blotches of dried paint were decorating them. Even some paint covered hairs spiked as the light contracted his form.

You smiled miscellaneously.

Your own finger traveled without remorse towards them, poking at a few hairs that were littered with paint. By pinching one, Jean shot back in half pain, his brows furrowing in confusion as he stared at you. "Hey, what they fuck!"

"You do that to me all the time when i have paint in my hands!" You half laughed, shooting him a mocking furrowed look as well.

“You’re so cruel!” Jean grinned.

“To pay you back with your own penny right?”

Jean cocked his eyebrow at you, a few lines begging to make an appearance on his forehead. He shook his head a couple of times, throwing a few shaggy strands of hair away from his face, his forehead immediately lighting up as his ashy blond locks overlapped just above his ears. You mimicked him, using a hand to move your feathery bangs away from your face as to not have them intertwining with your vision.

Jean brought a digit to his mouth, biting at the bulky knuckle while wrapping his lips around it to suck at the sore spot, dramatically mourning the loss of one single hair. It made you laugh harder than it should have and you told him off, quickly grabbing his hand by the wrist to pull it further away from his mouth.

"Ew you idiot are your hands even washed!? Don't put them in your mouth!"

Jean's smile faded gradually as he nodded its only reminder remaining in his eyes as they softened with each passing second they looked at you. You bobbed your head to the side, taking in the way he was looking at you and you felt your gut grunting in the anxiety you had managed to drown at one time.

You definitely knew that look.

"So how are you after... The whole Reiner thing?"

When Jean let the sentence out, he instantly regretted it. Biting back the inside of his lip, his teeth dug into his soft, fleshy gum, the tiny specks of spiky under lip hair he had poking through his chin. You could see the regret plastered on his face, yet you ignored it with a sigh, pushing your stern further back into the chair again.

Of course Jean would ask about that. Reiner and you had broken up a little less that a month ago and it was stressful enough to send your anxiety over the roof. Coming home to find him drapped in the sheets with someone else was still burning through your brain like a hot iron, marking the fleshy crevices by piercing your skull.

Jean and you hadn't had a chance to talk about your break up yet; in the midst of it being a spontaneous reaction to Reiner's anathema and your upcoming mid-terms, you had chosen to indulge yourself fully with the everlasting pleasure of delving into studying.

And now, as you tried to utter your awaited words your stomach clenched at the foreshaken memory that you had tried to bury in the depths of your soul, your hands sweating just a tiny bit as you gulped down on some saliva to dumpen your dry throat. Jean's hazel orbs were set on you with curiosity and reluctance, his skin tingling inside his crewneck sweater.

"I mean, Eren told us about it and then we fought on who would punch Reiner first you know."

You oggled at him as he spoke awkwardly, your lashes batting rapidly as a wave of confusion washed through you.

"You don't have to hit Reiner you know, we all make our choices and he made his."

"Ah," Jean sighed heavily "I suppose so. I'm here for you though, you can talk to me."

"You're actually doing an assignment at the moment" you said and pointed your finger onto his sharp nose, giving him a playful push to the side. "No need to talk about my sorry love life."

"Your love life isn't pitiful, don't talk about it like that!"

"It's not pitiful, just sad." You sighed, reaching out to your pencil case. "Just sad."

Your fingers run through the case even though your eyes weren't fixated on the action, your sense of touch working its way to let you know which object you were seeking. The tips of your fingers caught on the thick Posca marker quickly and you locked it in a grasp between your pointer and middle finger, bringing it up through the zip up opening.

"Give me your hand." You ordered at Jean as you clapped your fingers to your palm in a 'come here' motion.

"It could always get better you know." Jean spoke and threw his hand to you.

Slowly the cap was off the market with a snap and you slid it up towards it's butt to pop it on there as to not lose it in any case it feel off of the desk and onto the mosaic floor.

Jean's nose lit up in a faint scarlet and his ears followed right next, lighting up in a deeper shade of the color on his nose which made his hand snap away from you in a matter of seconds. With puckered lips he stared at the corner of the room that was in the opposite direction of yours, his gut drenching him in short tempered anxiety.

"You done painting my nails with the posca pen?" Jean remarked, lips still puckered as he turned to face you. "When's your exam?"

"Three o'clock."

"Wanna ditch?"

Your eyes goggled in his for a second. The luminous morning light that peaked through the library binds fell onto him dearly, caressing a few of his features in a lemony colored mellow way, your gaze traveled into anywhere on his face as you tried to examine his expression while your gut was beginning to churn at the sly thought of agreeing with his query.

Weighting your options wasn't a seriously hard thing to do; if you took the test you were most likely going to fail, but if you didn't take it you'd have to live with the guilt of not even putting the minimal effort in it for a few weeks. But, you had tried so hard to pass all of your other classes so why shouldn't you slack off for one that was bound to end in a fiasco?

You found yourself nodding to Jean before you could actually give more thought to it. His face immediately lit up, ashy blond locks flying over his eyes as he shook his head in excitement. With one move his sketchbook was closed again, left to mourn over the non existent scribbles Jean could have made during all this time he was sitting next to you.

The hard cover protected sketching pages were thrown into to his tote bag once again, the sound of the sketchbook colliding and clashing with a few more objects he had in the bag filling the silent air of the library.

"Put your books in here!" He offered, opening the sides of the tote bag right on front of your face, signaling you to do as he suggested.

By taking a long sigh you took a turn in throwing your books and pencil case in the bag, one object following another on the pursuit of finding their own place in Jean's crammed bag. A shy smile adorned your features as you looked at him, the mischievous little devil on your shoulder smiling proudly at your actions as if you were a high schooler skipping school.

_____

Black Cat was a notorious cafe among art university students for numerous reasons. For example, it featured a decent amount of of beautiful contemporary art that was meticulously merged with the soft, cobblestone-cottagecore-home-during-the-winter aesthetic and all of their tables, stools and booths were artist-friendly to the max. Additionally it played Nirvana and Metallica for most of the day and on top of that they actually had a chunky and extremely cuddly black cat roaming around the store that you often found on your lap during your time there.

Oh, and the batwoman made amazing custom cocktails.

Really was there anything else anyone needed in a store?

The soft tangerine light flickered open as the sun outside started to hide it's shy low lights under the peak of a mountain you couldn't recall the name of, the soft smell of apple pie filling your nostrils as you sipped lightly from your earl gray tea occasionally, stealing a few glances of Jean's focused expression. A knowingly half smile went up to your face as you looked at the scenery outside before fixing your eyes back onto the bright screen of your phone.

Jean cooed in his leathery chair for the upteenth time today, his gaze fixated on the sketchbook on his hands. You had spend last hour in absolute silence; you had decided to roam around in your phone for references for an assigned collage you had to do in Photoshop as Jean had settled on drawing the horizon from outside the window to practice on his perspective while finishing up the sketches he had to submit.

Your day had passed by pretty fast; you had visited an urban side of the town that was flooded with art supply stores and you had delved into every single one roaming around to find any kind of supplies you were short on, or just generally needed. As Jean correctly had said, you are always short on art supplies.

Thus, you had ended up with a bag filled with complementary acrylic colors in tubes of 20ml mostly because they costed a dollar each, and also because as art students you got to receive twenty percent off of all your supply bills. Jean had only bought a new set of watercolors and a few Edding inks and 0.7 tipped poscas, as he was sure he would ruin your expensive Sakura Liners in his attempts to finish his project.

Then you had decided to cram your place for some much needed lunch before heading off to Black Cat to have some tea and coffee while Jean would finish off his last few of the sketches he had been drawing throughout the day.

"So" Jean awkwardly spoke as in to break the deep silence, his thumb pressing over the edge of the page his drawing was placed as he closed the sketchbook carefully "I wanted to ask, because ahem, I'm your friend and I'm worried about you... Do you want to vent about Reiner?"

"Ah, no" you shook your head and fixed your gaze onto the auburn colored liquor in your cup as you reluctantly lift it up to bring it to your lips before speaking "I mean, I got so sad you know. And I haven't gotten over it, of course, I mean I liked Reiner. A lot."

"I came see it in your eyes. But I'm here for-"

"And he's a bitch you know? He could have told me if he was bothered by anything I did or if it wasn't going well for him. I'd gladly work anything out or even break up peacefully."

"You know," Jean sighed, he too bringing his cup of coffee to his lips to take a sip before gulping it down. "My opinion is obviously biased here, but I support you. I've took a psychology class and we were actually delving into as to why some people cheat, there are many reasons as to why it could have happened."

Your heart slightly aches as you looked at him, a few veins in your hand twitching slightly as he continued rambling about all things he had grasped from his class. Your stomach growled angrily in anxiety, warning you to put an halt to your friend's words but you couldn't bring yourself to do so.

Not knowing the reason as to why Reiner had chosen to see someone else behind your back had hurt you beyond repair. Deep inside you still felt the need to get some closure, although with your stress on your exams you had been sure you would most likely give in to anything Reiner would say and this wasn't who you were.

You could go on without having any closure, it shouldn't have mattered so much to you in any way.

And to some extent it didn't.

"I'm hurt, but I'm the other hand I don't really care about anything you know?"

"Mhm, yeah, look at you getting over it so quickly!" Jean said semi enthusiastically. "You need to be able to share your pain in order for it to become small and eventually non-existent."

"You know, for someone who takes such sophisticated classes you talk like you haven't slept in ages!"

"Give me a break, as if you don't."

The two of you burst into bubbling laughter, your chests heaving and falling as the sounds of joy left you one by one. Jean's hand had come to rest on top of yours softly, giving you a couple of squeezes as his eyes squinted in synch with yours.

And then, in a moment that seemed like it was forced out of a coffee shop au fanfiction, Jean's hand rubbed a few soothing circles over yours. Slowly his laughter was begging to set into a silent harmony, the woody brown specs of his eyes providing the slightest tint of warmth into his gaze.

"This is why I love you so much."

The choice of words was supposed to be naive whether it was intentional or not, or that's what you tried to tell yourself because you thought you knew Jean better than anyone. The look in his eyes, the soft upwards curves of his eyebrows, the way his top lip overlapped go bottom one as his eyes glimmered into yours; this wasn't a very casual look for Jean, it was the look he had on when he was looking at something that mesmerised him. And you knew he meant exactly what he had said.

But did you like Jean?

Well, was there anyone who could spend so much time with Jean and not fall for him, even without realising it?

At one time it had become obvious that he liked you, although he'd never act upon it. You knew it in his movements, in the little ways he looked at you or cared for you like no one else actually did while hiding behind the mask of being a friend. Eren had been one to tease him for it restlessly and you had been able to catch upon that too but you had never let it be known that you had been able to see through his facade.

"Forget it I shouldn't even have had-"

With curious eyes you stared back, your gaze never truly leaving him. When he suddenly shook his hand off of yours you found your other hand pressing on top of his, trapping the limb in place as you tried to open your mouth to utter any word. It was still hard to find the right choice of words, ones that wouldn't hurt to be heard.

"Jean... I-"

"No, forget it, it just slipped, shit."

"Look Jean shut up for a second please I want to speak okay?" You huffed half playfully, despairate to stop Jean's mumbling "I know."

"You know?" Jean cursed under his breath.

"Yeah, I do, it's obvious. And I've had this huge crush on you ever since fifth grade you know? I never really got over you because I spent all of my teen years thinking we'd end up together."

You watched as Jean's face lit up at your words, a new glimmer adorning his eyes just as the sky turned a sheer violet as the sun retreated deeper into a non visible horizon.

"And then we kissed in eighth grade and we fought about it and we stopped hanging out because I asked for space since I just could believe what was happening. But we're friends again and it's the best thing to happen to me in years."

You continued, your hand never leaving his while soothing circles were rubbed onto his palm.

"But I'm not going to ask you for space this time."

"You're not?"

"No. Just a little patience. I'm still getting over Reiner and I don't want to be unfair to you and rip you off of something that you might ask from me."

Jean snapped his hand away from yours and you retreated your hands back to yourself shyly, a bitter mouth leaking into your mouth as you tried to swallow it down fast to no avail. Somehow your heart felt a strong stinging, the pulling of your heartstrings at steak while your heart was sprawled before you.

Was that your last chance with Jean? You had told yourself that time and space between you would be right one day, but that day seemed to stray further away now, slipping right off your hands because you couldn't forget Reiner fast enough.

"I'm not fourteen anymore, so don't be afraid about me straying away. I just wanted to show you something."

Jean's worked through the pages of his sketchbook, taking a few seconds before they landed where they wanted to. Flipping the sketchbook to match your point of view, he revealed the sketches he had been scribbling all day. They depicted you in majority. The look on your face as you picked a tube of paint, your hands as they grabbed through numerous brushes and sketchbooks. Even the way you stared at your phone as you sat across him was perfectly sketched on the paper and hatched in indian ink, adorned by Jean's raw drawing style.

"Jean, that's me!"

"Mister Moblit told us to draw things that were personally important to us. So, I hope you don't mind."

Damn, you felt like tearing up.

In the midst of trying to get your stupid heart to calm down from the impossible rhythm in which it was beating at and stating at Jean's sketches so hard that your eyes felt like they'd pop out and any given moment your would felt like setting fire to your whole being while your tears were restlessly trying to put it out. It was even outdated to feel like that about Jean, your younger self told you but there was no way you could help it.

With rivers of tears running from the corners of your eyes you looked up at the hazel orbs that were set on you, feeling your heart want up by their luminous gaze.

"Jean I-"

"Shush, you don't have to say anything. Just let me know if I can hug you."

"I'd love that." You said shyly under your breath.

Next thing you knew Jean had gotten up from his seat and had plopped himself right next to you, pushing your head deep in his chest. The song in the background faded gradually as you felt serenity wash through you, despite your heart hammering in your chest beyond a point you could actually feel it.

And for now all that mattered was that you could listen to Jean's heart beat nearly as fast as yours while his words played inside your head.

Maybe, just maybe time and space between the two of you was right this time.

taglist: @sasageyowrites @levisbrat25 @ackermans-freedom-inc @melancholicmonologue @berrijam @callmepromise @nobody-knows-anymore 

[abbatoirablaze]

Way Down We Go

Word Count:  860

Warnings:  implied smut, sexual tension.

I took another step.  It felt like I was walking to my coffin.  I'd made a deal with the devil...and for what?

So I didn't rot in a prison.

Was I really any more free out here than I was in there?

I looked up and saw my cousin, Kevin, opening a door for me.  He led me over to his bronco and I got in.

"You are doing the right thing Ezekiel!"

I shook my head, "doesn't feel like that hermano.  Feels like I'm betraying my family all so I don't spend my life in cell."

I looked out the window as he drove.  Soon we were just outside of Santo Padre and I felt a weight in the pit of my stomach.  He nudged my shoulder, "we just have to have a quick stop before we go to your pop's shop.

"What do you mean?" I asked, "I'm supposed to go straight to pops."

Before I knew what was going on we were at a scrap yard.

"What are we doing here?"

"Insurance," he said softly, pulling up and getting out.  I followed his lead.  We went inside the building which was little more than a trailer, "Tash. Ivan in?"

She nodded and handed him a slip of paper.  He told me to sit there and wait for him.  A few minutes later he came back with a guy.  They ignored me and went into a separate room.

"You the new one?"

"What?"

She leaned back in her chair and put her jean covered legs on the desk, "Kevin said he was getting a new person...you're his cousin...the one that's gonna be working on the Galindo case."

I looked to the door, unsure of what to say.

"Kevin will be talking with Ivan for an hour or so.  They're going over your case.  Finalizing any kind of red flags that might prohibit you from getting into the Mayans.  They're scrubbing your file."

"Are you supposed to know this?"

"Who do you think checks over everything for red flags?" she smiled, taking a stick of gum out of her pocket.  I shrugged, "I'm Natasha, but I'm pretty sure you gathered that from Kevin, right rain man?  You can call me Tash, though."

"Rain man?"

"Your cousin raves about you," she said with a giggle, popping on her gum.  I smirked and she blushed, "he says you have a photographic memory."

I nodded, "yeah.  Makes a few things useful."

"A few things?" she asked.  I nodded and she waited for me to go on further.  When I didn't she gave an idle nod with her head, "well uh, rain man do you want something to drink?  Like I said they'll be a while."

I shrugged, and she made her way past me to a small kitchen area.  I couldn't help but watch her hips sway as she walked.  Then when she bent over the fridge I took a deep breath, trying to keep some composure.

"I got coke," she said lazily, "water?"

Her body turned just enough towards me where I could see down her blouse.  The black lace just barely visible.

"Shit."

I averted my eyes as she'd caught me staring down her shirt, "Fuck.  I'm sorry.  I uh-"

"You're fine," she said quickly.  When I looked at her again she was standing straight, buttoning her blouse all the way, "I uh.  I should have had it done all the way but it's so damn hot and-"

"You don't have to explain anything to me."

I gave her a soft smile and she sat next to me, handing me a water, "thank you."

"So, how long have you been a cleaner?"

"Just a few years," she said, wiping some sweat from her brow, "it keeps me busy."

"Bet your boyfriend hates it," I laughed, trying to make a joke, "long hours hunched over a desk?  That's gotta suck."

"I don't have a boyfriend," she said.  I nodded, trying to think of something else to say, but nothing came to mind, "hey Ezekiel, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"How long has it been since...you know?" she asked.

I nearly choked on my water to see that a few more of her buttons had come undone.

"Uhm."

Her perfect olive skin glistened and I wanted nothing more than to taste her.  Her hand pulled out the ponytail she had, and her dark hair cascaded around her shoulders.  A few strands of curly hair just barely kissed her breasts.

I reached out and brushed the hair away from her, pushing it behind her ear.  She looked down and I couldn't help but reach my hand under her chin, lifting it to me.

"EZ." she whispered.  I smiled and our lips met.

"I'll be gentle." I replied softly.  She leaned back, pulling me on top of her on the cheap couch.  We kicked our jeans, and I ripped the blouse open.  I could hear the buttons scattering around the floor.  She gasped as I cupped her breasts in my hands.

"Don't you dare be gentle with me!" she moaned, biting down on my bottom lip as I lined up at her entrance.

[127-mile]

THE PROSPECT.

PAIRING: Biker Hendery x racer female reader.

GENRE: Gang, motorcycle club, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst.

WARNINGS: Car accident (the accident already happened when the fic starts), blood, injuries, strong language, mention of a dead relative, of neglect, illegal race, quick mention of guns.

PLOT: The biker and the car racer, it sounds like the beginning of a terrible joke, but it is not. The biker wants to taste normality, and the car racer is happy to oblige.

WORD COUNT: +6.3k.

A/N: This is part of the Adrenaline rush collab hosted by @lucas-wongs​​ | I'm also working on a fic from Johnny (the club's president)'s point of view.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" you scream in frustration.

You hit the steering wheel with your fists, and you ignore the throbbing pain in your right wrist. There's smoke coming out from under the hood, and you know it's only a matter of a minute before a spark threatens to set the whole car on fire.

You unfasten your seat belt, probably the only reason you haven't gone through the windshield, and you get out of the car, slamming the door behind you, causing the window to explode into pieces.

A car pulls up near you, and you turn your head. "The finish line is a hundred meters away, why are you stopping?"

Taeyong gets out of his car, and he gasps when he sees the condition of your vehicle. "Because I wanted to make sure you didn't get hurt." he responds, rubbing his sweaty hands over his pants. "She's good for the junkyard."

You didn't need Taeyong to figure it out. "If I call a tow truck now maybe I have a chance to still have a car tomorrow, what do you think?"

"If it doesn't catch fire, yes." he whispers.

You pull away from the curb when other cars are crossing the street at full speed, you don't want to get hit by a car after crashing into a fucking pole.

"You could have been first if you hadn't stopped." you say in a sigh.

He shrugs his shoulders. "There's no money to win tonight, I don't care if I win." yeah well, good money or not you would have liked to win, and you were so close, damn it! "And I can always find a way to be accepted for the next race. I know the organizer, I will tell him about you too."

Taeyong walks over, and he takes your face in his cold hands, which makes you hiss. "You are bleeding, you should go to the hospital." he says firmly and you roll your eyes, which shouldn't be as painful as it is.

"Do you really think I have enough money to go to the hospital? You're cute." you take a step back and Taeyong's arms fall to his sides. "Do you think the Neo garage is open at night?"

Taeyong sighs. "Call the garage to check, I'll call Ten to see if he can sneak you in to make sure you're okay." the perks of having a nursing friend who doesn't care about the rules.

You pull your phone out of the pocket of your jacket, and you wince when you see the broken screen, but at least it still works. It takes you a few minutes to find the garage number, and you heave a sigh. You're always doing repairs to your car yourself, but it's way too bad now.

"Neo garage, what can I do for you?" a voice asks after the second beep.

"Hi, I have a question, when someone calls you to pick up a wrecked car, do you have to call the police?" you ask in an annoyed voice, you have no choice but to ask this question which must be bizarre, since the person chuckles on the other side.

"No, we don't call the police unless you ask us to." good to know, you won't end up in jail tonight.

"Perfect. I had an accident, and if you could come and pick it up that would be nice, if it didn't catch fire before you got there."

The person hums. "Where are you?"

You look around, and you shrug your shoulders even though no one can see you. "I am on the main street, in front of the tea shop."

"Alright, I'll be there in ten minutes." and the person hangs up.

You put your phone in your pocket, and you approach Taeyong who is waiting. "The tow truck is coming." you say, and he nods.

"Ten said the emergency room is empty, you can go, he will let you through without having you fill out the papers."

You have the choice between going to the hospital to check that your wrist is not broken and that you do not have a concussion, or to wait for the tow truck, the choice is already made, you love your car more than you love yourself. "Go, take my car, I'll wait for the tow truck, I'll send you a message later."

You frown. "Are you sure? Weren't you supposed to spend the evening with Doyoung after the race?"

Taeyong hands you the keys to his car. "He will understand." you thank him deeply and get in his car. "Please, no accident with my car or I'll kill you." he says and you nod with a thin smile.

"I'll try my best."

You hope it's not the last time you'll see your car, and you drive to the hospital which is a few minutes away.

Either way, taking Taeyong's car after banging your head against the window was a bad idea, but you park in the parking lot without a hitch. You are an amazing driver. Most of the time.

Ten is already near the glass door when you approach, and he presses his hand against his mouth. "You look like shit." he says, voice muffled by his hand.

"Thank you very much, you should see the condition of my car."

You follow Ten in the hospital, and in one of the emergency rooms, and you sit on the edge of the bed. "You'll have to take an X-ray to see if you don't have a concussion."

You shake your head. "I don't have a headache, I don't feel nauseous, I am not tired, I have nothing Ten. Just clean my wounds and look at my wrist, I have to go to the garage after."

Ten sighs. "Stubborn."

Ten takes care of the wounds you have on your forehead, cheek and lip, then he looks at your wrist. "It's swollen, can you move it?"

You move your wrist, biting your tongue to avoid growling in pain. You can't be in a plaster. "See, it's not even broken."

Ten narrows his eyes. "I don't believe you. I'll wrap it in a bandage, and I'll come see you tomorrow to check to see if it hasn't gotten any worse." he mumbles, wrapping your wrist and part of your hand with a itchy bandage. Great. "If I ask you to spend the night here, you are going to refuse?"

You shake your head and he sighs. "Why are we friends?"

When your phone vibrates in the pocket of your jacket, you pick up. "Taeyong? Did the car catch on fire?"

He snorts. "No, your car didn't catch on fire. It's in the garage, they'll take care of it tomorrow morning, so go home, I'll come pick up my car later."

"How are you going to get home without your car?" but you don't have an answer since Taeyong has already hung up, he finds that hanging up is much easier than arguing with you. He is right, and you love him for that.

"Thanks Ten, I owe you one." you stand up from the bed, and Ten throws his gloves in the trash.

"Take painkillers before you go to bed, it won't stop making you feel like you're dying, but it will help."

You kiss his cheek, and you walk out of the room, making sure no nurses are around, then you walk out of the hospital. The cold night air whips your cheeks, and you close your eyes, it feels good on your burning skin.

It takes you a little longer to get home, due to the fatigue that has suddenly crushed on you, and when you walk in your apartment the first thing you do is drop onto your bed, ignoring your limbs crying out in pain.

When you open your eyes, your room is bathed in light and yet you have the impression that you have barely slept a few minutes.

You turn on your back, and you growl. Maybe you should have listened to Ten and taken an aspirin before going to bed, because the pain is so bad you can't think straight.

It's like you have an elephant lying on you. Or like you've been in a car accident. Your humor makes you smile.

With your fingertips, you reach for your phone in your blanket, and you sigh when you see your friends' messages. Ten and Taeyong want to know if you're still alive, Doyoung is laughing at you, and Kun tells you that you should never have taken part in the race in a "I told you so" way.

You answer Taeyong and Ten with a simple: Alive.

It's almost two in the afternoon, which means your car should be finished, or at least they should know if your car should be scrapped or not.

You get up, and if you thought you were in pain, it's nothing like the pain when you shower and get dressed. It's horrible, you want to die, just like Ten said you would. Stupid nurse.

Rather than taking Taeyong's car, you walk to the garage, and a strange shiver runs through your body as your gaze lands on all the motorcycles that are parked in the parking lot. You know these are the bikes of the mechanics, and the club members.

This club has quite the reputation.

You approach the small building which contains nothing but a desk and piles of papers which are scattered over it. "Excuse me?"

A young man turns his head towards you, and he smiles. "Hello, what can I do for you?"

You clear your throat, resting your shoulder against the doorframe. "My car was towed here last night, it's a black shelby." you explain, and he nods.

"Oh yeah, I thought the mechanic was going to cry when he saw the state your car was in. Something about the Shelbys needing to be treated with love."

You roll your eyes, but you giggle. "I totally agree, but the pole I hit last night didn't think the same."

"I don't think it's over though, do you want me to take you to see it and talk with the mechanic?" he asks, getting up from his chair, and you nod your head. "Follow me."

You follow him to the garage which is only a few steps away, and you wait when he goes inside. "Hendery, the owner of the Shelby is here."

The young man smiles at you, and he goes back to his office. Immediately, a man arrives, wiping his hands full of grease on a piece of cloth which he stuffs in the back pocket of his pants. "I am Hendery." he says. "I'll shake your hand, but I'm dirty."

You shrug your shoulders. "It's okay. How's the car doing? Will I be able to get it back one of these days?" you ask, trying to hide the anxiety in your voice. You put in so much money to have this car, and to make it perfect that it would be a shame to have to throw it away. Well no, it would not be a shame, it would be absolutely heartbreaking.

"Yeah, there's going to be some work to have it rolling again, but I can do it." he says and it's like a weight is lifted off your shoulders. "Though, the way you treated it, I shouldn't even give it back to you."

You open your mouth, and you see the shadow of a smile on his face. "What? But it's my car! It's not my fault I hit a post."

Hendery shakes his head. "Besides, how did you manage to hit a pole? Considering the condition of the car, you must have hit it at a very fast speed."

You shift from one foot to the other. "I wasn't going that fast, I was just driving around town and had to look at a storefront and didn't see the post." you mumble. You're normally a really good liar but for some reason you just can't seem to do it with him.

"I'm giving you a second chance to tell me the truth." he says in a voice he wants firm, but he can't help but smile, he is clearly messing with you.

"If I told you I had an accident during an illegal race, would you believe me?"

He snorts. "Not really, no."

You smile. "So it's definitely not because of an illegal race. Can I see my car?" you ask to change the subject, and he invites you to follow him in the garage to your car. In bright light, it looks much worse than in the dark last night. "My poor baby."

Hendery looks at you, then he looks at the car, then he looks at you one more time. "A normal person wouldn't drive a Shelby." he suddenly says, and you tilt your head.

"Of course it's not a city car." you answer. He works for a club which is known for its illegal activities, it would be hypocritical if he were to report you to the police, and even then there is no proof, so you have no reason to lie. "So do you believe me?"

He nibbles on his lower lip, and he nods. "Yeah, I think I believe you." he puts his hand on the dented hood of the car. "And that's so fucking cool! I've always heard about the races in town, but I've never had the chance to meet anyone participating in it."

You shrug your shoulders. "I am Y/n." and he smiles.

Hendery walks around the car, and he cites all the things that need to be fixed, or changed, and when he stops talking, the weight is back on your shoulders. "It's going to cost me both of my kidneys."

He laughs. "Oh yeah, it's going to cost you a lot of money." when he sees your worried face, he puts his hand on your shoulder, which he regrets because he knows that there will be a trace of grease from the shape of his hand on your t-shirt. "But I'm sure we can work it out."

"Tell me?"

Hendery seems to think about it, and when he has an idea, his face lights up. "If you take me to a race, and if you can convince someone to let me get in their car, I could take care of your car outside of my working hours, and it will cost you next to nothing."

It's something very simple, it's not like the public isn't allowed to watch the races. "For that you have to promise me that you won't call the police."

He arches an eyebrow. "Why would I do such thing?"

"I don't know! We don't know each other, maybe you are looking for a way to get me arrested to keep my car."

Hendery throws his head back, and he laughs heartily. "I love your car, it's true, I'm mad at you because you broke it, it's true, but I prefer my motorcycle."

You turn your head towards the motorcycles. "Is one of them yours?" Hendery nods, proud of himself. "They're cool. They don't go as fast as my car, but it's cool that you like the quietness of a small motorcycle."

The way Hendery's eyes widen is almost comical, so you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing. "A small motorcycle? Are you kidding me? Have you at least ever been on a motorcycle?"

You shake your head. "No. I don't like motorcycles, they don't give you enough adrenaline." adrenaline is one of the reasons you race on the daily, you can never get enough of it. You crave it, it's a bit like a drug. "But I don't have to get on a motorcycle to know you could never beat my car."

Hendery crosses his arms against his chest, and he tries to make himself taller, which is amusing. "I could beat you in a race with my motorcycle."

You giggle. "You could beat me if I had to drive my car in this state, for sure. But otherwise you don't stand a chance boy."

Hendery's cheeks turn red, and you don't know if it's from anger, or from embarrassment. All you know is it's a lot of fun. "Prospect, what are you doing?" you hear, and Hendery doesn't waste a second getting out of the garage.

You can't hear the conversation between Hendery and the other person, so you run your fingers across the body of your car. You hope you can drive it quickly, you don't want to miss the next race. You could of course ask a friend to lend you a car, but it won't be the same. But you would have an excuse.

When the conversation lasts for over five minutes, you decide to leave the garage, and you meet the gaze of Hendery who you smile at. "Thursday, 10 p.m. in front of the garage, don't be late." you say, and you walk away.

"What was that?" the person asks with a laugh, and Hendery has to shrug because you can't hear an answer.

If you want to impress Hendery, you're going to have to find a good car.

"Not even in your dream. No. No."

You sigh, exasperated. "Please? It's just for one race while I wait for my car to get out of the garage!"

Doyoung looks you up and down, judging you without even hiding it. "You will never touch one of my cars." you pout, but he looks away, he knows you too well.

"Why not? You don't even race, you don't even drive your cars, it won't kill you to lend me one!"

He crosses his arms against his chest, his brow furrowed. "You had an accident with your car, I don't want to risk losing one of my cars." it's a low blow, you think.

"It's not like I had an accident on purpose!" you mumble, and he shrugs. "Taeyong, do something! You know very well that I'll be careful." you turn your head towards your friend who shakes his head.

"Keep me out of this conversation." he says.

"It's okay, I'll ask someone else. Maybe Yuto will accept." you turn on your heels but a hand lands on your shoulder, and you smirk.

"Don't go see that idiot, he would be able to give you a car he messed up with on purpose! You know he is up to no good."

You chuckle. "He would do it to you because you're a jerk, but he wouldn't do it for me." you know this is wrong, Yuto knows that you are friends with Doyoung and he will not hesitate to attack you to reach him. Or any of your friends for that matter.

Doyoung mumbles something you don't understand, and he heaves a long sigh. You know you won. "One car, for one race, and if you damage it, you'll pay for the repairs." Doyoung is filthy rich but he acts like a broke bitch most of the time.

You turn to face him. "I promise you'll get your car back in the same condition you gave it to me, and I'll even fill up the tank!"

"You better."

And that's why the following Thursday, you park in front of the garage, sitting behind the wheel of one of Doyoung's cars. A car that will never be as fast as your Shelby, but which could perhaps give you a chance to win the race, or at least to make it to the top 3.

You really don't understand why Doyoung has so many racing cars in his garage when he doesn't do anything with them. Probably something rich people do that you will never understand.

You jump when little knocks are given against the passenger window, and when you turn your head, you smile when you see Hendery. You weren't sure he would come. "Come!"

He opens the door, and he sits down. "I'm not late?" he asks, and you shake your head, making the engine purr, foot on the gas pedal.

"Not at all. I hope you're ready because you're going to be with an amazing racer tonight."

Hendery's smile could almost blind you. "Oh really, who?"

"Me."

Your shoulders drop when Hendery's smile fades and you refrain from hitting him. "Hey! Are you disappointed? Because if you are you can get out of the car and go fuck yourself!"

Taeyong would have gladly agreed to take him in his car, but since you were lucky enough to be accepted for the race despite not having finished the previous one, you thought it would be better to have him with you.

He shakes his head. "No, I just didn't expect you to race without your car."

"This car is definitely not the ideal car, but that's all I could find since a certain mechanic hasn't finished fixing my car yet." you tilt your head and Hendery laughs.

"Sorry for having other priorities besides your car."

You snort. "And what's taking you so much time? Waxing the club members' pumps?"

He rolls his eyes and you decide to get out of your parking space, it would be a shame to be late for Hendery's first race. "It is more complicated than that."

You hum. "A guy called you prospect last time, what does that mean?" you do not know if you have the right to know since you are not a member of the club, but you are quite curious.

He turns his head to the window. "Prospect means prospective member. Basically I'm being given undesirable tasks until they decide if I have what it takes to be a full member of the club."

You scoff. "So you're their maid? You do the dirty work?"

Hendery shrugs, and out of the corner of your eye you see him smile. "That's a way to see it."

"And what made you want to join the club?" you don't know if it's too personal, but it's interesting. Hendery never had the chance to meet someone street racing, and you never had the chance to meet someone wanting to be part of a club like the Neos.

“My older brother joined the Neos when he was very young, so I grew around them a bit. Then when he died the members said they would always be there for me, to meet my needs and they offered me a job in the garage. Of course, working in the garage doesn't mean I had to join the club, but I do enjoy being around them so when I asked, they immediately agreed to make me the new prospect."

You didn't think he would tell you something so personal, but it's a sign that he trusts you, right?

"I'm sorry for your brother, but it's good if you've found yourself a new family with the club."

His  smile is so big and sincere that you can't help but smile too. "Yeah, they're awesome, they take good care of me."

The race is in another city, which makes the trip a little longer, but the silence is not heavy, it is pleasant. A silence that is suddenly broken by Hendery wriggling in his seat. "So what made you decide to start street racing?"

He decided to be sincere and personal, so now you have no choice but to be too. "Uh," you start to say, "my parents decided to have a child to salvage their mariage, not because they wanted one, so they never had that parental fiber." Hendery hums, prompting you to keep talking. "Life at home was not fun, I was basically left on my own devices all the time. And when I understood they didn't really care what I was doing, or where I was, I started hanging out with the 'bad kids' at school and they introduced me to street racing. I did my first race way before I had my driving license, and the rest is history."

Hendery heaves a sigh. "I'm sorry about your parents, but in a way it gave you the opportunity to find something you love and are good at."

You smile. "That's true."

You would of course have preferred to have loving and present parents, but it's too late to change things and you're not unhappy with the way your life has turned out.

You decide to change the topic, you don't want to continue with the delicate and sad subjects. "You are going to meet my friends, and I hope you are ready, they are impossible to live with."

You stop at a red light, and you see Hendery's gaze. His eyes are bright, and you wonder if it's because he's excited. "Really? I can't wait!"

You chuckle. "Do you have friends Hendery?"

His lower lip juts out and he shakes his head. "The members are my friends, of course, but we don't do anything fun together, just garage and club related stuff." poor guy.

"Well you are about to have new friends and they are terribly annoying, you'll soon regret meeting them, trust me."

After ten minutes, you approach the zone of the race and the crowd is already making it hard to drive to the start line. "Oh come on, I can't have blood on the car, don't make me roll you over." you mumble and Hendery laughs.

When you finally park the car, you get out. "Come on!"

Hendery gets out of the car and it's like being with a child, he is looking around with big eyes and a bright smile. "There are screens that allow you to see every corner of the race so you don't miss anything, a group that takes care of capturing the location of the police, this kind of stuff."

"And over there you have the worst human beings." with a nod you indicate a group of people. Your friends.

You approach your friends, and you put your hand on Ten's shoulder to get his attention. "What are you doing here, don't you work nights normally?" you ask immediately and he shakes his head.

"No, I asked a colleague to take care of it, I wanted to see you lose the race."

You roll your eyes, and grab hold of Hendery's wrist to pull him closer. "This is Hendery, he works in the garage where my car is. He wanted to see a race in real life." you explain. "Hendery this is my friends, Taeyong, Doyoung, Ten and Kun."

"Nice to meet you guys." Hendery says, and the boys shake his hand. "I'm really excited!"

"He's going to ride with me." you add, and Ten puts his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. "What?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing at all. Have fun Hendery, because this might be the last time you'll be excited about something. You're going to die tonight. You should give me the number of someone to contact to let them know what happened."

You hit Ten's shoulder. "Come on, I had one accident. And if I crash Doyoung's car, he is going to kill me." Doyoung nods his head.

"She is right."

"The race is about to start." someone says in a megaphone. "To the participants, please join your cars."

You turn to Hendery. "If you want to watch, that's perfectly okay." he shakes his head, and he walks towards your car.

"Nah, I'm going with you." cool cool. You don't remember the last time you had someone riding with you, so you better not mess up, that would be embarrassing.

"One condition," you say, sitting behind the wheel. "you'll take me on a ride on your motorcycle." you never tried a motorcycle before, and even if it was fun telling him he wouldn't beat you in a race, you don't want to die stupid.

"Deal."

You start the engine. "If you feel sick because of the speed, please don't throw up inside of the car." you don't plan on stopping for any reason. And you don't plan on cleaning the car if he gets sick.

Hendery laughs softly, but he stays quiet.

Out of the corner of your eye, to see his mouth open when you press your feet on the gas pedale. "Let's go baby." you whisper.

During the first part of the race, Hendery is mostly silent, only making little surprise noises when a car gets a little too close to his door for his liking, but after the second roundabout he starts to laugh. "It's incredible!" he exclaims, a hand resting on his heart which must beat wildly.

"Do you like it?" you ask, and he nods vigorously. "Being behind the wheel is even better. I'll give you a try someday." not during a race, but on a racetrack, with no other car around, and with a car that you won't have a problem with if it breaks.

You laugh when you drive past Taeyong's car, and he gives you the middle finger which makes you laugh even more. "That's it Taeyong, stay behind, that's where you belong."

You see the finish line, but you also see the car in front of you, but you don't try to overtake it, second place is perfect, especially with Doyoung's car.

Hendery screams when you cross the finish line, and when you brake, he's quick to unbuckle his seatbelt to turn towards you. "Oh my god you are the best!"

You can't help but smile. "So I've been told! You don't regret going up with me?" he shakes his head, and you get out of the car.

"You cut me off!" you turn when you hear Taeyong's voice, and you scoff.

"It's a race Taeyong, not a ride, it's normal that I cut you off!"

He pouts. "I made a bet with Ten that I would finish before you. I lost 100 bucks."

You shrug. "That's too bad."

You congratulate the winner of the race, and you make your way to Hendery who is already talking about his experience with Ten and Kun. Both of them are listening to him with attention, something you are not used to. Did he win the hearts of your friends in less than an hour when you've been trying for years? That's not fair!

"Thanks again for the car Doyoung, I owe you a big one." you say, handing him the keys and he shakes his head.

"Keep it, at least until you'll get your dear Shelby back." how sweet of him, and you wonder if he would have offered his car if Hendery was not around. You hate it here. "Hendery, it was a real pleasure to meet you, I hope we can see each other again." he says, and the other boys agree one after the other. "Y/n, please give us his number so we don't have to go through you to see him."

You bite the inside of your cheek, and Hendery wraps his arm around your shoulders. "We're a package deal. If I come, she comes."

"Already? That's adorable!" Ten cooes and you want to punch him, but not in front of Hendery. Later.

"Come on, I'll bring you back." you mumble, grabbing Hendery's wrist to pull him back to the car.

It's a bit difficult to ride with the crowd around, but you manage to do it, and when you finally find yourself on the road, you heave a sigh. "Will you come back for another race?" you ask, and he nods.

"If you want me, yeah, I'll come to all the races! I'm gonna work hard on your car so you can show me everything you've got!"

"And if you're good, maybe you can even ride my Shelby one day." it's a decision you can change depending on Hendery, but it could be fun.

His mouth opens wide, and you giggle. "It would be such an honor!"

The rest of the road is pretty quiet, and after the hubub of the race, you're not unhappy. When you arrive near the garage, you notice that a lot of people are in the yard. "A party?" you ask.

"Yeah, one of the club members was due out of jail today so they're celebrating his comeback."

You hum. "Didn't you want to participate?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "He was already in jail when I joined the club so I don't know him. And frankly? I'll miss every parties in the world to participate in another race." adorable.

"Good to know. Thanks for being a good co-pilot." Hendery smiles, and he even leans in to kiss your cheek before getting out of the car and waving to you.

Well, that was unexpected.

The next two weeks are pretty much the same. You wake up, and you spend your breaks at the garage, looking at Hendery working on motorcycles, cars, and of course, yours when he is done. And you honestly appreciate his presence. His, and the members of his club, they are all very sweet to you, and to him. They mess with Hendery a lot, but you can see that they cherish him a lot. And weirdly enough, it appease you to know he has a family to look over him.

"Your car is done."

A weight falls down on your stomach when Hendery speaks, but you smile nonetheless. "Already? I thought it would take more time." you say, stepping inside of the clubhouse. Hendery is sitting on a stool behind the bar, a glass of water in front of him.

"The guys gave me more time to work on it." that explains a lot.

You sit down next to him. "I'm happy to have my car back, but it's a shame, I really liked spending time with you here." Hendery turns on his stool, a smile on his face. You wonder if he ever stops smiling.

"Me being done with your car doesn't mean you can't hang out at the garage. I asked, and Johnny doesn't mind." Johnny, you learnt, is the president of the motorcycle club. He is still young, but he was apparently voted in after the death of the past president.

"...we need to figure out how to get the guns out without.." the door of the clubhouse opens, and the conversation stops when your presence is noticed. "Oh hey Y/n! What's up?"

You smile at Yuta, the sergeant-at-arms. "The usual!"

The young man's smile is a bit tensed, maybe because you heard a part of the conversation and as you are not part of the club, you probably shouldn't have, but you don't mention it. "Stay out of trouble, okay?" you nod and he steps inside of the meeting room with a few other members that you saw a couple of time around the garage.

"Did you hear what he was saying?" Hendery asks, nervously playing with his fingers and you shrug.

"Heard what?" you like Hendery, and he likes the club, you wouldn't gain anything by speaking up about the things you hear on the daily.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" he asks suddenly, standing up from his stool. "I did promise to take you on a ride on my motorcycle."

"Let's go!"

You follow him outside of the clubhouse and to his motorcycle. He hands you a helmet that you put on your head, and you wait for him to get on the motorcycle to climb behind him. "Hold on to my waist, and if you want to stop, pinch me, I'll understand." you don't know how safe it would be to pinch him while he drives, but you accept.

"Yes sir!"

You became acquainted with the sound of a motorcycle engine, but it still gives you chill. It's different of a car, of course, but it still brings you the adrenaline you love so much. Car, motorcycle, as long as it has wheels and purr, it's the same.

Hendery leaves the garage, and instead of driving toward the city, he leaves it.

And you soon understand why. On the hallway, he can drive as fast as he wants without being bothered by cars and trucks. And the feeling of the wind against your face is amazing. It makes you smile, it makes you want to scream.

And just like that, with your arms around his waist, your head against his shoulder blade, you understand how happy you are to be here. To be with Hendery. With the wind whipping your face, and his laugh echoing around. Breaking your car wasn't such a bag thing, it gave you something akin to love.

[levis-hazelnut]

Levi x Reader Kill It

"Hanji, I swear, you mention something about your titans again and I'll take all your experiment equipment and burn it," you threatened as you closed the door on her face.

Sighing heavily, you lazily plopped down in your chair behind your desk, hating on the pile of paperwork which rested on your desk in front of you.

Hanji already put me in a bad mood and now I have to do this f*cking paperwork.

After internally complaining, you decided to start on the paperwork so you can get it over and done with, and be put in a better mood.

When a creature appeared on your desk, you let out a scream and jumped away from your desk as your door opened.

"Oh, I'm so glad! You're just in time, Levi!"

"What?" He looked at you, confused.

You screamed once again and ran to Levi who stood there, looking as if he was unaffected.

"There's a spider!! Kill it!"

"I'm not killing it. You can kill it."

"Me?! Are you f*cking dumb?!"

"You kill titans... and you're afraid of spiders?"

"I hate creepy crawlies! Levi, kill it, please!” you screeched. He sighed before rolling up scrap paper from your desk and whacking the spider. He lifted the paper to show you that he killed it but you turned your head away in disgust. "Hit it again! It can pretend to be dead."

"It's squished. I don't think it can be killed any further."

"Okay! Just chuck it out the window or something!"

A slight smirk formed on his lips as he came closer to you, the paper with the spider on it still in his hand, he made you look his way as you yelled and jumped back once you took a glance at it.

"I hate you so much, Levi!"

"Really? It didn't seem like that just this morning."

"Oh, shut up."

"You can open your eyes now. I threw it out the window."

"Thank you so much! I love you!" You rushed to Levi and hugged him as he shook his head, playfully rolling his eyes.

"Do you hate me, or love me?"

"I love you."

"Good. Now go train the cadets that you forgot about."

"Wait, what?"

"You have to train your squad now."

"Do you think I'm bothered to do that?" you mumbled. "I'll go down in a minute. Can you watch them for me?"

"You better not leave them to me."

"I won't."

Since you were sweating from screaming and jumping around, you washed your face before going down to the training grounds to train your squad. When you got there, you saw Levi with his usual expression as he watched the cadets before you approached him, catching his attention.

"You took your precious time."

"Shut up." You rolled your eyes but didn't mean to make it seem like you were actually pissed, and the raven knew that. You allowed him to go, thanking him as he walked towards the building. "Wait, Levi!" you called as he stopped in his steps.

"Yes?"

"Come here."

He padded back towards you with his arms crossed and stood there waiting for you to say or do something. But you only kissed his cheek, smiling all the while.

"Now, you can go."

"You make me waste so much time."

"Well, would you rather spend time with me or spend time doing work?"

"That's a difficult question to answer," he joked as you playfully slapped his chest.

"You can go do your work. You don't deserve to spend time with me."

"Okay. Bye."

~/~

It was dinner at HQ, so you made your way to the mess hall, feeling satisfied that you finished your paperwork and you can just relax until tomorrow. The damn cadets are lucky to not have the duties of a superior, though, they do have chores and all that sh*t.

You were about to enter the mess hall, but a yelp erupted from your throat as you ran into the mess hall, where everyone was staring at you and it was dead silent. Ignoring everyone else, you scanned for Levi before sprinting when you found him. His eyes never left the food in front of him as you stood near him. He was about to take a bite, but you slapped the spoon from his hand which is when his eyes met yours, showing clear fear.

"A spider?" he questioned before you could say anything. You nodded vigorously as he huffed and stood, taking your hand in his and leading you out the mess hall. "Where is it?"

"Over there." You pointed to it.

He crouched down next to it. "It isn't going to do anything to you, okay? I can't go round killing spiders for you. If you want them dead, kill them yourself."

"But, Levi, you aren't scared of them."

"They're like the size of a pea!"

You sniggered before replying, "Or the size of you."

"Shut up, and get in the mess hall," he ordered.

Noise entered the room again, making it less awkward for you since you had attracted a lot of attention from the scene you had made. Worry left you as Levi stayed by your side. You cautiously walked to your table and sat down opposite Levi as he gazed at you, waiting to notice the glint that meant you were okay. Once you were calm, he carried on eating his food, a slight smile creeping onto his lips at your childish behaviour.

"What are you smiling at?"

"I'm not smiling." He pursed his lips, trying to hide it.

"Shorty, we saw you smile!"

"Shut it, Sh*tty Glasses, no one was talking to you."

"Why are so moody?" you asked.

"I'm not," he retorted. You arched an eyebrow and Levi did the same. "What?"

"Did you just say you aren't moody?"

"Yeah."

You slightly shook your head with a sigh, and went back to eating your food, staying quiet for the rest of dinner before going to your office, wanting to just nestle in your bed. But before you did that, you showered and changed into comfortable pyjamas.

After a while, you heard the sound of your door opening and then closing, boots approaching the door of your bedroom before it opened. Lifting your head up, you saw Levi stripping down to shorts before he climbed into bed next to you. You cuddled up close to him as he placed a light kiss on your forehead, looping his arms around you.

For some reason, you felt an unease, so you looked up at the ceiling and saw a spider dangling down from a web. It was getting closer and closer, so you leapt out of your bed, causing Levi to snap open his eyes. And the first thing he saw was a spider, knowing why you were currently on the floor.

"If you want to get rid of it, you have to kill it."

"Levi, I'm not getting in that bed with you unless it's dead."

"That's fine with me."

He lidded hues again, not caring about the spider that was crawling on the bed. You stayed on the floor before deciding to go to the sofa in your office and fell asleep there.

Levi hadn’t fallen asleep yet, so he sat up and picked up the spider, which rested on the pillow next to him and disposed of it. Before going back to bed, he scooped you up from the sofa and laid you down in your bed, brushing a few strands of hair off your face. He stared at you before lying down next to you, feeling content.

~/~

You were out on an expedition, swiftly killing any titans that came into sight as Levi watched you, thinking how you were so fearless when it came to titans, but so frightened when it came to spiders.

You sliced the nape of a titan before going back to your horse, letting out a shriek when you spotted a spider on it. You were not getting on your horse even if a titan started to chase you. And that's what happened, a titan came your way. And so, you started to run on foot before you heard the sound of galloping footsteps beside you. You glanced to the side and saw a frowning Levi as he slowed down and held his hand out to help you onto his horse.

"Are you f*cking stupid?! What the hell are you doing?!"

"Umm... Well, there was a spider on my horse," you muttered, expecting to hear a shout in return. But all you got was a sigh.

"I don't understand you. A titan would easily grab and eat you. But a spider doesn't do anything, so I don't understand why you get so scared."

"They're disgusting."

"So are titans."

"They can roam your whole body without you knowing."

"But they don't harm you."

"I just hate spiders. That's all."

"Okay."

"Also, thanks for saving my life."

"Whatever, idiot."

"Oh, wait. We need to get my horse."

"It's behind us."

You looked behind you and Levi was right. "How did you kn-- Ahhhh!!!"

"What happened?" Levi inquired, concern present in his voice.

"T-there’s a spider on your horse!!"

"Just flick it away or something."

"I'm not touching it!"

"Do it or it's going to climb onto you,” the Corporal told you. You hesitated to smack it away, but when you did, you felt proud of yourself. "Did you do it?"

"Yeah," you said as you snaked your arms around his torso.

"Why are you getting comfortable? Go back on your horse."

"Why?"

"(Y/N), this is an expedition, not a ride for fun."

"Okay, fine. Love you. Bye." You jumped onto your horse, catching up with Levi and riding beside him.

"Go kill that titan on the right."

You nodded and rode towards it, using your ODM Gear to kill it. As it thudded onto the ground, you went back onto your horse, looking around for Levi. Where did he just go?

"Why do you look so worried?"

"Oh, there you are, Levi," you sighed. "I thought you were dead or something."

"Me? Dead?" he scoffed. "You think I would die?"

You laughed at his cockiness before you were silenced by his index finger being put on your lips.

"Save your laughing for when we're back at HQ. Because your laugh does things to me and I can't do anything about it now."

"See you back at HQ," you smirked and rode faster, wanting the expedition to end as quickly as possible.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Tracing Time

Saturday, 23:39

Song: David Bowie - Starman

Sander’s hands flit over the papers like wasps, mindlessly zipping back and forth in search of a target, lighting here and there for a quick moment before moving on. He leaves behind scraps of pencil or colour or words, molding them into a collage of unrestrained thought even as his mind races and runs back. There’s no room for anything else when his head is filled with art.

It’s only a case of luck that allows him to catch his phone lighting up as he moves away in search of his sketchbook. He halts in place and glances at the screen, lips twitching at the sight of Robbe’s name.

He goes to rub at his eyes and catches himself, eyeing the paint blotches and pencil stains marring his fingers. He uses a clean knuckle for the task, then wipes his hands off on his sweatpants before picking up his phone. There are a slew of messages waiting for him, and his heart gives a sharp, pleasant tug. A few are from his small group chat with his friends from the Academy planning to meet up tomorrow, and there are two from Lucas checking up on him and wishing he was there. Most of them, however, are from Robbe, and this is all Sander pays attention to.

oh god they’re starting to get gross why’d I agree to this 🙃

it’s just making me miss you more, tbh

I’ve finally escaped to bed and now I definitely miss you. how am I gonna sleep without my fave blanket/pillow?! 😪

I’m actually really tired now 🙈

Sanderrrr?

Sander bites down hard on his lip to suppress a smile at the obvious whining, and then realises there’s nobody around to see him and lets his grin out in full force. It’s sappy, his Robbe grin. He’s not embarrassed by it, far from it, but it scares him sometimes. His heart quickens then and he has to take a deep, shaky breath to stop it from overwhelming him, how easy this love comes and threatens to bowl him over. This happiness.

He realises he’s already made Robbe wait long enough for his message and taps out a quick reply.

sorry sorry. caught up with the project. have you been thoroughly traumatised yet?

The texting bubble appears instantly.

hmmm I think I’ve gotten off lucky tbh, so I’m not going to complain 😬

you abandoned them a while ago though?

tired. not as used to the train ride as Jens

why aren’t you sleeping then?

couldn’t without saying goodnight 🙈

There. Sander’s heart does the thing, that rapid stutter, as his lips spread into a smile so wide his cheeks hurt. Every time he thinks he couldn’t get any more fond, Robbe surprises him. He brings the phone closer to his face as he bites at his lip, as if that will make Robbe feel nearer.

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you wait up

I’ll always wait for you

The message comes so quickly Sander knows his boyfriend doesn’t even take time to think about it. It’s just a casual, natural response; even though Robbe likely does have that cheesy, cheeky grin on his face as he waits for Sander to reply. He knows exactly what he’s doing and he has no idea. He doesn’t know how easy it is, how totally he has Sander wrapped around his finger. In fairness, Sander would have no idea how to express it to him. He glances at his project and corrects himself—he can’t express it outside of his art. At least, not fully. Not as easily.

I thought I was the one with the one-liners here

mmm I guess you’re a good teacher

I’m not sure you ever needed me to teach you that, Robin

you’ve always been a sap at heart 😘

hey!! and I thought I was getting a compliment there 😪

it is a compliment

from me, it always is

There’s a short pause, as if Robbe doesn’t know what to say or has fallen asleep. Sander drops onto the edge of his bed while he waits, holding the phone near his lap. The typing bubble isn’t reappearing, and he feels disheartened for a brief moment, and then another message appears. This time it’s a square, and Sander perks up as he watches the photo load, and then Robbe’s looking back at him. He does indeed look tired. He’s covering his face with his hand, but peeking through his fingers so Sander can see one sleepy eye, as well as half of his smile. His cheeks are a faint shade of red, and his shoulders are tucked up close, covered by one of his green t-shirts.

Sander falls back onto his bed at the sight of it, heart fluttering in adoration. It’s nothing new, and it’s nothing provocative, so maybe it shouldn’t be getting Sander’s heart racing as much as it is. But it is downright adorable—Robbe is—and it makes Sander miss him so fiercely, so suddenly, that he aches. It shouldn’t be so. He’d just seen him this morning. He sees him so often. How is it that he still manages to miss him all the time?

Robbe sends him another message.

you’re not even here and still

Sander grins.

still I can confirm you’re the most beautiful person in the universe

just this one?

every Robbe in every universe is the most beautiful person there

and every Sander better tell him so

🙄🙈 shut up and go to sleep

I can’t, still have work to do

Another pause, and then the typing bubble only appears for a short moment.

not too long, okay?

Of course. He doesn’t know what else he was expecting. He smiles again despite himself.

promise ❤️

goodnight Sander ❤️

night, Robin

sweet dreams

He keeps the chat open for another moment, just to make sure nothing else is going to come in, and then lets his phone drop to his chest. He pushes a hand through his hair and just breathes for a moment. Then he picks his phone up and looks at the photo again, smiling softly in the face of all of Robbe’s softness. He looks adorably sleepy, and Sander wants to join him more than anything, curl around his pillow and pretend it’s a familiar body and drift off into dreamland himself. Instead, he sets his phone aside and gets up. Rather than collecting his sketchbook or returning to his desk, he slips out of his room and creeps up the hallway.

He quietly flicks on the light in the kitchen and goes about getting himself a glass of water, then he digs about in the press for a chocolate bar as well. He doesn’t sit with them, but leans against the counter and nibbles and sips, hoping the little burst of sugar will spur him on.

At some stage, he zones out, and doesn’t notice his mother walking into the room until she speaks.

“I thought you’d already gone to bed.”

Léa Driesen tucks her robe tighter around herself and comes to stand across from her son, leaning against the table. She keeps her arms crossed over her chest but smiles softly at him, giving him a quick once over and shaking her head at his stained clothes. It’s a familiar, fond gesture. Sander feels warm rather than embarrassed in the face of it. He holds the remaining half of his bar out in offering. She shakes her head slightly. “No thanks, darling.”

“Everything okay?” Sander asks her. “Sorry, I was trying to be quiet.”

“No, you were,” she waves him off. “I was still awake, heard you out in the hall. You’re not still working, are you?”

Sander blushes, looking down at his water, and hears her sigh. “I just have a little left to do,” he protests.

“So you can sleep and finish it tomorrow.”

“It won’t take long. And I can just sleep longer then. But if I don’t finish it, and have to go to sleep knowing I don’t have it finished, then I’ll be stressed and won’t be able to sleep anyway. So really, it works better this way.”

She stares him down, eyes narrowed and unimpressed. There’s still a slight upwards curl to her lips. “And Robbe comes home tomorrow.”

Sander takes a sip of his water.

Léa shakes her head, huffing quietly. “He won’t be back ‘til late afternoon,” she reminds him. “You would still have it done before he gets back.”

“I definitely will if I just finish it now. Besides, Emilie wants me to join her and the others for a while first.”

“You’ll be falling asleep on the poor kids.”

“I will if you keep me up,” Sander says, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he moves past her.

She hums and calls over her shoulder after him. “You’re a mess. Not too late, okay?”

Sander huffs in amusement, shaking his head as he pauses to go to the bathroom on his way back to his room. He’s only a bit tired, and he feels a little brighter after splashing water on his face. He’s shaking his hands out over the sink when he catches sight of his reflection and gets caught up.

He’s still not quite used to his hair.

It’s strange, because it’s the hair he’s had for most of his life. But he’d gotten used to the bleach. Now, it’s still short from where he’d finally cut the dye out, and it still takes him by surprise. He supposes it’ll take more than a month or so to get used to again. It makes him look younger, he thinks, his natural colour, like he did when—

Well, it doesn’t matter. The bleach didn’t work to hide anything, either. It didn’t make a difference, after that time.

He goes to run a hand through his hair and pauses when he remembers they’re still wet. He settles for staring for another moment instead, and then he finally drags himself away, drying his hands and face and closing himself up in his room.

His project is still laid out, almost done. He casts his eyes over it, the scraps of sketch and photograph and poetry all melded together, examines every detail before nodding to himself. Then he fetches his sketchbook as he’d meant to a half-hour before and drops back into his desk chair.

~^~

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