#yea i will maybe practice rendering more!!

[evanostic]

bia!!!! also tried overpainting/rendering... :D

idk if i should keep it... maybe i will try practicing more

doodles

yea she's deaf!! so she uses her holographic speech bubble and sometimes asl to communicate, though her favorite ways is using reaction images and sfx

how did she hear uzi during cabin fever? well she's not completely deaf but she did fuck up with uzi's last question QwQ

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐎 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐕𝐈 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] Cupio dissolvi means "I wish to be dissolved" and it's typically used in a religious context, but I'm using it in the secular sense to express "such concepts as the rejection of existence and the masochistic desire for self-destruction." You can thank Wikipedia for that last bit. Enjoy the pwp. Don't fuck your psychiatrist. [ SYNOPSIS ] You reluctantly decide to tackle your personal issues and end up in the clutches of a psychiatrist with questionable methods. [ WORD COUNT ] 3.8k [ CONTENT ] Modern AU, dubcon, power imbalance, sadomasochism, dacryphilia, impact play/spanking, some very brief phone sex, size kink (Zeke is bigger than you, calls you little), praise, a little predator/prey but it's mostly in the mc's head, dumbification, facial.

“Welcome. I’m Dr. Zeke Yeager. It’s nice to meet you.”

You didn’t shake his extended hand as you crossed the threshold into his office. You practically sprinted to sit down in a plush chair. You gazed straight ahead, looking past the psychiatrist. He was rendered a formless smudge, a figure unworthy of focus, as he took a seat. The wall behind him was painted a faded pink, a pathetic attempt to subdue. It reminded you of an abandoned Barbie dreamhouse.

“Thanks for taking the time to see me,” you said, words glazed with malaise.

This was the last place you wanted to be, but the only person you could blame was yourself. A brief moment of supposed clarity overwhelmed your self-destructive nature, and you made an appointment to see a psychiatrist.

“What are you hoping to get out of these sessions?” he asked.

You allowed your eyes to focus and droned, “Uhhhhhhh. Well, Dr. Yea—”

“Call me Zeke. There’s no need to be formal.”

Zeke was younger than you expected. He looked more like a high school history teacher, the kind that lets kids hang out in his classroom after school. His wavy blond hair was in perfect disarray; it was clear he put a lot of effort into looking effortless. He wore a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It fit perfectly, subtly showing off his muscled arms. He looked heavenly, like a bearded angel or Jesus himself.

Your heart was in your throat. You were always a sucker for blondes.

“I just want to feel… better?” you said cautiously, hoping you answered the question correctly.

“What does better mean to you?”

You exhaled sharply. “Less neurotic?”

“I see.”

You could tell he wasn’t satisfied with your answer. You decided to put forth a little effort.

“Less edgy? Maybe less…” You sighed. “I feel like I’m too aware of everything. It feels like everything is happening to me all at the same time. It’s overwhelming.”

“That sounds exhausting. Tell me about a time where you felt like that.”

His tone was warm though it lacked a certain sincerity. It was clear it was a practiced action. You hoped for an individualized approach, or maybe a psychiatrist that was better at acting. It was hard not to imagine yourself on an assembly line.

“Sometimes when I’m on the bus I’ll see people running to catch it, like just going as fast as they can. And then they miss it. Seeing that will ruin my day.”

“You must be a very empathetic person.”

You shook your head. “I just hate seeing someone try so hard and fail. It makes me uncomfortable. It’s so embarrassing for them.” You paused. “I guess what really bothers me is that I let something so stupid and insignificant affect me when it has nothing to do with me. I hate that I notice that stuff. I feel like I am noticing everything against my will.”

“You poor thing.”

“And sometimes I just want to explode. Like everything becomes too much and I want to burn it all down.”

He started writing stuff down in his notebook. You wanted to kick yourself for being so honest. It was almost like you were taking it seriously.

“But I’m still a good person, you know? I just think the world is constantly trying to terrorize me so I’m always alert? It’s hard to explain.”

He put down his notebook. “I never said you weren’t a good person. Do you have a boyfriend? A partner?”

He changed the subject with a smoothness you could only describe as magnificent. If any other man had pulled that on you, you would have walked out with zero hesitation. But Zeke transfixed you.

“No. I… I’m not really into all of that.”

“Not really into all of that? Interesting. Can I ask why?”

“It’s too much pressure. No one’s expectations ever line up.”

He chuckled. “People can be very opaque about what they’re seeking. Tinder’s the worst for it.”

It was hard to imagine him on any sort of dating app. He had the face of a guy that hunts his prey in the wild. You imagined him skulking around bars, watching his potential conquests drink themselves placid. It isn’t a traditional pursuit. He just watches and waits until they’re tired and slurring every sentence and struggling to use a rideshare app. That’s when he pounces.

“I’ve heard Tinder isn’t great,” you said, shaking off your weird fantasy.

“It’s only good for hookups.”

His frankness seemed unprofessional, but this was your first appointment with a psychiatrist so what the hell did you know. Maybe things were more casual, a little looser. Maybe discussing hookups was the norm. You fought off the urge to imagine what a night with him entailed, but it haunted you. Tangled sheets. His rough hands holding you down. Your knees pressing against your shoulders as he splits you in two.

You laughed nervously. “Yeah.”

“Sorry, let’s get back to business.” He adjusted his glasses, the frames gold and intricate. “It sounds like you may be experiencing hypervigilance.”

“Huh?”

“You’re always on the lookout for potential threats. You are essentially a prey animal.”

You were almost convinced he could read your mind. You never considered yourself prey, but it was clear that he did. Your toes curled. The discomfort was of an unusual flavor. Nauseating yet gratifying.

“How’s your sleep?

“Awful, I guess.”

“You guess,” he murmured. “Why is that?”

His questions felt endless, like the appointment was going to eat up the entirety of your life.

“I can’t shut my brain off.”

He sank down into his chair and spread his legs.

“How do you cope with that?”

“I really don’t… Unless weeping counts.”

“Do you feel… relieved when you cry?” he asked, staring intently at your lips.

“Kind of.”

“How often do you cry?”

He seemed too eager as he awaited your answer.

“I don’t keep track. Should I?”

“I doubt it would help,” he confessed. “What else do you do to relieve yourself?”

You glanced down at his crotch and noticed a bulge fighting against the thin fabric of his chinos. The air was sucked out of the room. His cock lured you in, demanding you to witness its growing glory.

“I don’t know,” you confessed. “Sorry.”

“I see. You seem a little combative,” he teased.

You weren’t being combative. You just couldn’t answer his questions thoughtfully on the spot. You weren’t prepared. You hadn’t planned on taking the appointment seriously. Time was needed to manifest something meaningful.

“You seem,”—you coughed nervously—“accusatory.”

He smirked. “Normally I’d refer someone like you to a therapist, but I can’t think of one equipped to deal with you.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be. After some consideration I’ve decided my counseling would be beneficial. I’m going to send you off with some homework.”

You assumed your days of homework were far behind you.

“Do you masturbate?”

“I do not feel comfortable answering that.”

“It’s a simple question. You either do or you don’t.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

“Just trust me.”

“Give me a reason.”

“Fine. We talked about what you do to relieve yourself, right?” You went to answer but he cut you off. “I think masturbating will provide immense relief.”

“Well… I do already,” you huffed. “So I don’t think it’s helping much.”

He looked at you like you were the dumbest creature he had ever seen.

“You need to masturbate with intention.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s hard to explain without me knowing what you’re doing wrong, which is why I need you to record yourself.”

A wet spot bloomed in your underwear.

“A voice recording is fine,” he acquiesced.

“Yeah, sure, okay. I’ll get right on that,” you said getting up.

You turned your back to him and quickly made your way to the door. The sound of his feet hitting the ground startled you as you went to turn the knob. Your brief moment of hesitation gave him enough time to grab you by the shoulder. The weight of his hand was disarming.

“I want to see you again next week, same time,” he said as he turned you around, your back against the door.

Your face was hot. “I’m not—”

“I promise I’m not taking advantage of you. My methods are proven to work,” he said, slipping his business card into your back pocket.

“So you pull this with all the girls?” you spat.

“The boys too.”

His conviction stirred up the whispers of ardor you tried to keep buried. His breath was clouded by a nauseating combination of espresso and tobacco, though the grime began to entice. You could feel the heat of his body against yours. You wanted to pull him closer so you could melt away into his warm embrace, but you couldn’t initiate something so brazen. You never had the guts for forwardness. And you liked to pretend you knew better.

“How progressive,” you finally choked out.

“I realize that this seems unorthodox and I don’t blame you for resisting.” He played with a piece of your hair. “If you value your mental health, you’ll trust me. Do I look like someone that would lead you astray?”

Kind of, you thought to yourself.

Your hesitation was palpable. He looked like he could practically taste it. He softened his gaze. It could have been a guilt trip, or just a half-assed attempt to assure you he had your best interests in mind.

“What if I don’t want to do it this way?”

“Then I might not be the right person to help you.”

You sighed. His methods did not seem trustworthy; they seemed like something ripped from a gross subreddit. HOT DOCTOR TRICKS DUMB BITCH PATIENT INTO PHONE SEX. You struggled to fully divorce the degradation from the situation. Being that dumb bitch patient was growing on you. It wove itself into your skin, becoming a part of you.

“Fine,” you replied. “But I’m not recording myself.”

“What if you call me?”

“In the middle of it?”

“Yes.”

“I…”

“C’mon. It’s not like I’m a predator. I’m your doctor.”

You wanted to trust him, but you thought about how easy it would be to use as leverage against you. A three hour deep dive video about revenge porn echoed through your mind. Opening yourself up to potential humiliation made you ill.

“I’ll call you. Maybe. I don’t know,” you mumbled.

He backed away. “Even if you don’t, try not to miss next week’s appointment. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about you."

You laughed, but failed to say anything. You slipped out the door and tried to convince yourself to give up working on yourself. Maybe you could get by living in a state of constant hypervigilance.

That night you crawled into bed, vibrator in hand. A life filled with hypervigilance sounded atrocious.

You stared up at the ceiling, your toy vibrating against your thigh on the lowest setting. It felt late, but you couldn’t check the time. You made a conscious effort to put your phone far away from your bed. You decided to humor Zeke, but you weren’t allowing yourself to call him in the midst of touching yourself.

You sighed and gripped your vibrator. You spread your legs and began to graze the inside of your labia with the tip. Normally you’d pull up Twitter and scroll mindlessly until a video of a hairy guy violently fucking a girl half his size popped up, but that wasn’t an option. You tried to imagine someone crawling between your legs, eyes dripping with lust as they work their fingers between your folds. You kept having to start over because your fantasy was plagued with your bearded fixation. The constant interruptions did little to entice you.

You pressed your vibrator against your clit. You fiddled with the settings until it was a series of long, hard pulses. You rutted up against it trying to unwind and give into pleasure. But you kept fighting off visions of Zeke rolling his tongue against your cunt. You wondered what his beard would feel like between your thighs. You wanted to know if he kept his glasses on because it seemed like leaving them on would be hotter.

You let out a dejected “fuck.”

You rolled over onto your side and stared at your phone. You wanted it to invoke disgust, disdain, but all it did was lure you out of bed. You rifled through your hamper to find your jeans. You fished his card out of your pocket. It had a goofy head shot of him and the number for his office which frustrated you to no end. You flipped it over and saw another number hastily scrawled on the back. You sighed in relief and called him.

“Yeah?” he croaked.

“Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Oh. Hello.” His voice was still tinged with sleep, but much warmer. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m happy you called. How are things going?”

“They’re… not. I can’t get in the mood.”

“Hm. You didn’t mention struggling with that during your appointment.”

“I usually don’t,” you grumbled.

He laughed. “How are you struggling? Lead me through your process.”

You swallowed hard. “I, you know, try to… imagine something, but I keep thinking about things… I don’t, um, want to think about.”

“Like what? Violence? Your family? Animals?”

“What? No! A man! A human man.”

“Your father is a human man presumably.”

“I’m not thinking about my dad!”

“It’s more common than you think.”

You were starting to regret calling him. “It’s you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Really?” The word dripped with amusement. “I can’t imagine why that’s a problem.”

“Well, it is.”

“Jeez, what did I ever do to you?” he snickered.

“I didn’t call you to get teased.”

He coughed nervously. “I’m sorry. I can’t help myself when I’m dealing with someone as precious as you, but that’s my problem. Not yours.”

“You think I’m cute?”

You weren’t surprised by this revelation, but wanted to draw out more praise.

“I do. You’re so adorable I can’t stand it.”

“You can’t stand it?”

“Uh huh,” he replied. “I hear that sweet voice of yours and all I can think about is fucking you so hard you cry. Would you like that?”

His words knocked the wind out of you. He said it so casually, like he was talking about the weather or what he ate for dinner.

“Or I could fuck you so hard you stop thinking. I’ll just have you be my adorable idiot I take care of.” He paused. “Come to think of it, that might help with the hypervigilance.”

He said it so thoughtfully it was almost kind of sweet. You were at a loss for words.

“Say something. Anything.”

“I would like that. Both. Uh. Both would be great.”

You smacked yourself in the forehead for being so unsexy.

“You sound nervous.”

“I am, but I think I like it.”

“Oh good,”—he sighed in relief—“because my cock is so hard right now and I’d feel like a pervert if you weren’t into this.”

“You’re still a pervert,” you said, putting your phone on speaker.

“Why don’t you tell this pervert what you’d want him to do to you?”

You flopped back down on your bed, resting your phone on your pillow, and patted around for your vibrator. You wracked your brain, desperate to think of something sufficiently sexy to say.

“I want,”—you hesitated—“I want you to ruin me. For other people. I want you to do something so disgusting to me that no one else will want to touch me.”

“Is that so?” he purred. “Tell me more, cutie pie.”

“I like it when it hurts.” You winced. You were never great at dirty talk, but Zeke seemed to enjoy it. You heard him let out a pleased groan. “A lot,” you added.

“Do you want me to hurt you, my little masochist?” he asked, voice catching in his throat.

“Yes,” you said as your fingers grazed your cunt.

You heard him try to stifle a moan before going silent.

“I have a feeling I’m going to regret asking this,” he finally said.

You held the vibrator against your clit. Each pulse permeated your body. “What?”

“Where do you live? We can worry about masturbating later. I need to fuck you.”

You sat up. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

“Sex brings people together. It’ll make it easier to open up to me.”

He was just finding ways to rationalize his desires. You never expected him to want you so desperately, especially if this was something he pulled often. That should have turned you off, but all it did was make you want him more. It was borderline idiotic to invite a strange man into your home. But there was no better feeling than the ecstasy of self destruction. You relished his red flags.

“Come on. I need to taste your pussy. I’m starving.”

“Alright. I’ll give you my address, but you have to send me a picture of your dick first.”

Zeke hung up immediately. A minute later he texted you a dick pick. You stared at the screen, bewitched by his cock. It was thick and long, almost beastly. The foreskin was pulled back revealing a pink tip, shiny with precum. You sent him your address without a second thought.

I live 10 mins away from you. How perfect, he replied.

Those ten minutes took their sweet time. You stood there, staring at the door. It was as if you were in a trance. You couldn’t wait for him to walk through your door and your heart sang when he finally knocked.

“Hi,” you said, eyes full of stars.

He smirked. “Hey, cutie pie.”

He wore a fitted t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that failed to hide his semi-hard cock. A cigarette dangled from his lips.

“I’m assuming I can’t smoke inside.”

“I, uh, I guess it’s fine.”

He dropped his cigarette on the ground and carefully extinguished the cherry with his foot. He patted your head as he glided through the door. He didn’t seem nervous at all. His motions were relaxed, fluid, effortless. Twinges of jealousy pricked your skin. You still wanted him, still elated that he was standing in your home. But your brain started moving a thousand miles a second.

Was your place sufficiently clean? Did he bring condoms? Did you want him to wear one? Was he using you? Did he need you as bad as he was acting? Were you just a convenience? Did your room smell nice? Should you light a candle? What if you lit a candle and something caught fire while you’re fucking? Would you stop? What if you kept fucking and burned to death? Isn’t there something sexy about letting it all turn to ash? Could this be why orgasms are called little deaths? Did you remember to take your birth control? What if he has lung cancer and then breathes cancer into your mouth?

“Cancer’s not contagious,” you whispered to yourself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” you chirped, quickly stripping yourself naked before following after him.

You found him undressing in your room. You could barely contain yourself when he pulled his shirt over his head. His body was toned, but soft. He caught you staring and smiled awkwardly. It quelled the thoughts racing around your brain.

He got on your bed, resting on his knees. His eyes went to your vibrator.

“Aw, you really were trying,” he teased and patted the bed. “Come here. Ass up.”

You wasted no time getting into position and arched your back. He slipped his fingers into your cunt all the way up to his knuckles. He slowly pulled them out and let out a delighted hum.

He leaned over you, his beard tickling your ear. “Fucking incredible,” he murmured. “You’re going to be the one that gets me in trouble. I know it.”

He slid his cock into your cunt. You dug your fingers into the mattress as he pushed it further in. He took his time, making sure you felt every single inch of him filling you. Normally penetration didn’t do much for you. All it did was stress you out. You’d tense up and render yourself unfuckable. But Zeke was different.

He cared about you.

He had concerns regarding your mental health.

His dick was huge.

He didn’t show you any mercy. Each thrust drove his cock against your cervix. Waves of pain washed over you, the anguish further obscuring your issues. The relief was a welcomed affliction. You dug your fingers deeper into the mattress and gritted your teeth.

“You said you like it when it hurts, right?”

“Ye—yeah,” you stuttered as he continued to plunge his cock in your cunt.

He slapped your ass. The pain shot through you and you moaned. Just as soon as the sting subsided, he slapped you again. It made your heart swell. You felt like it was creeping up your throat. Tears welled up in your eyes as your ecstatic moans swelled.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing you to crane your neck back.

“I knew you’d be a pretty crier.”

His praise made you ecstatic. “Make me cry more.”

He pushed your head down into the mattress and fucked you harder. You went limp. All you could do was whimper and let your orgasm overtake you. Your entire body was throbbing, singing with agony and exaltation. When he pulled out, his cock was slick with your fluids.

“Roll over.”

“Huh?”

He laughed and flipped you over with ease. You stared up at him in a daze. The world was still spinning around you. He started to stroke himself, his breathing labored and depraved.

“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” he choked out.

You shut your eyes and stuck out your tongue, eager to drink in every drop of his cum. His desperate groans made your clit throb. You were burning up, the anticipation coursing through your veins.

“Fuck!” he rasped as cum splattered on your face.

You opened your eyes as he rubbed the tip of his cock on your tongue. You felt so small in his shadow, his body looming over yours. He stared down at you, his expression a little cold, a little clinical.

“So how do you feel?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“I… Fine, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I don’t know. Good. I just—I can’t really talk right now.”

You were inarticulate in the shadow of your orgasm. Your brain existed elsewhere.

He frowned. “Alright. I have a lot of questions for you in the morning. I know you haven’t been in treatment long but I think we’re close to a breakthrough.”

[drabbles-mc]

Unprofessional

Walt Breslin x F!Reader

For Day 10 of @narcosfandomdiscord's July Smut Alphabet: jealousy

Warnings: 18+, language, smoking, alcohol, smut

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: The way that I had to fight myself to not let this turn into a 10k fic 😂 I'm already in love with this reader and the general vibe of this fic and idkidk maybe I'll write more for them down the road. Who knows? Not me!

NMX Taglist: @narcolini @ashlingnarcos @hausofmamadas @garbinge @cositapreciosa @southotheborder @artemiseamoon @proceduralpassion (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Walt watched as Sal’s car rolled up to the motel that you and Walt were staying at. He was glad that you at least let someone else bring you home, because based off how you were when he’d left the bar a little more than an hour before, you probably shouldn’t have been behind the wheel. It was usually him that was driving you to and from wherever you had to go, or vice versa on days when Walt didn’t want to put up a fight about it. Judging by the way you were laughing as you opened the door and stepped out of Sal’s car, you didn’t seem to mind the switch up.

He watched you as you leaned on the edge of the window, smiling and laughing still as you thanked Sal and told him that you’d see him tomorrow.  Walt caught the way the man waved to him as well, and he returned the gesture from his chair. It was your chair, actually. It’d come out of your room. You set it up in the little stretch of space between the door to your motel room, and the door to Walt’s. You’d be sitting there with your coffee in the morning, and Walt would sometimes be out there in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep, dragging on his cigarettes, not unlike he was now.

You were practically sauntering up to him, the headlights of Sal’s car behind you rendering you as nothing more than a silhouette in the few seconds before he turned around and peeled out the lot to head back to his own spot.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a smile, “you left early.”

He shrugged, noncommittal. “Yea.”

You still felt like you were buzzing, warm more from the alcohol than the actual temperature. Still, even in your slight haze, you could see the annoyance on Walt’s face. “You okay?”

He gave a short nod, his tone and his words not lining up in the slightest as he said, “I’m fine.”

You were in no mood to try and pull it out of him, and even if you were, you didn’t know if you would be anything close to successful. So instead, you swiped the pack of cigarettes off the arm of the chair he was sitting in and took one out for yourself. The two of you were in a constant loop of bumming them off each other—neither of you bothered asking anymore.

“You know,” you spoke as well as you could with your lips wrapped around the cigarette—you sparked the lighter before continuing, “I know shit has been real rough lately, but that doesn’t mean you can’t ever have a good time.”

Walt shook his head, like you were saying the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Looked like you were all having a good enough—”

“Would’ve been nice if you were there, though,” you cut him off, smoke swirling out from between your lips as you spoke. “Couldn’t take, what, three hours out of the twenty-four to not be all broody?” you said, just enough of a smile on your face to keep that question from starting a full-blown argument. Walt gave you another shake of his head and it only caused you to double-down. “We missed you.”

He scoffed. “Didn’t seem like you were missing much of anything when I left.”

You burst out laughing at that. “I’m sorry?”

“No, I’m just,” he took a drag off his cigarette, “just surprised that Sal brought you back. Looked like you were gonna be goin’ home with your new friend there at the bar.”

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing as you tapped the ash off the end of your smoke. “You think I’m that easy, Breslin?”

He frowned slightly as he shrugged, an expression that was less about being upset and more about being uncertain. “I don’t know what I think about you.”

The statement was a little bit of a lie. Walt thought about you plenty. Some of it had to do with work, a lot of it didn’t. He’d had plenty of time to think about you since he met you, but there was still a lot that he didn’t know. Like how suave and flirty you could be when you were trying to get a free drink or two out of someone, like how watching you do that put a knot in his gut that had no right to be there.

It was the first time the two of you had ever worked together. Before you all got pulled together into the Smash & Grab that you now were, Walt was working in El Paso while you came over from Miami. Neither of you had known each other prior to this, and while you noticed that Walt seemed to have built a rapport with a few of the other men on his team, you were flying in completely blind. You didn’t know anyone. Walt quickly noticed, however, that that didn’t seem to slow you down. You quickly made it part of your job to get to know everyone at least a little bit, just enough to figure out how you should interact with them for the sake of not letting the team fray apart at the edges. It was a good skill, one Walt made a mental note to work on if you all made it out of this mess alive.

All of you had your own rooms, scattered across a few different low-budget motels. You were all smart enough to not all hole up in the same place together, but no one wanted to be completely alone. There was a fine line between having safety in numbers, and making yourselves easy targets to get wiped out in one fell swoop.

Your rooms weren’t adjoining, but you and Walt did share a wall. The walls were thin enough for him to hear the muffled sounds of your television, or for you to hear him if he was on the phone with someone, but you’d have to have your ear pinned tight to the wall if you wanted to make out the exact words on the other side.

He felt like he’d learned a fair bit about you in the relatively short span of time that he was your neighbor, one flimsy wall away from being your roommate. You were always up early, but went to bed late. He only had the latter part of that down for himself—he’d never mastered being a morning person. He’d step outside to have his first cigarette of the morning and you would already be up, coffee in one hand and a manila folder packed with information in the other. But there were still too many blanks for him to have any right feeling the way he felt about you.

“Hey,” you said with a quiet laugh as you tapped the side of his boot with yours, “Earth to Breslin.” You waited for him to look over at you. “Are we good?”

He shrugged, nodding. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know,” you said as you took an inhale from your cigarette, the warmth from your liquor at the bar fading for the moment as you tried to figure out why it felt like things were suddenly off-kilter between the two of you. “You took off, and now you’re acting different. So…are we good?”

“You just,” he looked everywhere but at you, knowing that he was digging himself into a hole that was going to be a bitch to try and get out of, “you gotta be careful.”

“About what?”

“About all of it!” He dropped his cigarette to the ground and put it out with the ball of his foot. “You can’t trust anyone we—”

“The guy bought me a drink, Walt,” you cut him off, unable to believe that this was the conversation the two of you were having. “I wasn’t telling him trade secrets. Fuck, I didn’t even give him my real name. As far as he knows,” you gestured to where Sal had been a few minutes before, “Sal is my fuckin’ boyfriend.”

Leaning back in the chair, he finally looked at you. “Alright.”

You shook your head. “Alright.” You paused for a beat. “You know, maybe you should’ve stayed for an extra drink or two. Maybe you could loosen up for all of two minutes.”

He didn’t want to keep arguing with you. Really, that was the exact opposite of what he wanted. Even so, it took more effort than it should’ve for him to finally say, “Maybe.”

You weren’t really looking for an argument either. You’d left the bar in a perfectly chipper mood and the last thing you wanted was for it all to fizzle out now. You hadn’t expected to come back to this. Walt always had that edge to him, an overtone of sourness, but this felt different.

“There something we should talk about?” you asked.

Of course there was. There were plenty of things that he should talk to you about. But he wasn’t going to start those conversations, didn’t really know how to. Instead, he pushed up out of his chair, standing up so that the two of you were hardly a step away from each other.

“Shit’s different down here,” he finally said. “So just, just be careful.”

“It’s a little late in the game to have doubts about me now,” you told him. “If you have issues with what I did, how I operate, then you shouldn’t have brought me all the way—”

“It’s not that,” he cut you off. He could tell by the look on your face that you wanted to snap and say, “Then what the fuck is it?” but he didn’t know if he was ready to get into all of that. It definitely didn’t feel like the right time now. “I just…don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” He knew that the statement was skating too close to the complete truth, so he tried to cushion it with, “All you guys, you’re my responsibility. I don’t want shit going south if we can prevent it.”

“Can you be less of a pain in the ass about it?” you asked, the smallest hint of lightness returning to your tone.

He let out a weary chuckle. “I can try.”

You waited for him to have something else to say, but when it didn’t seem like he was going to, you prodded. “Anything else?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but then he backpedaled on it. “No.”

You had the nagging feeling that the conversation wasn’t done, but you didn’t know how to continue it without letting it devolve into another argument. Putting out your cigarette, you gestured to your room. “Drink? Since you bailed early.”

Walt knew that he shouldn’t go, that he should just turn and head back into his own room. But he felt like he owed you this. It was the best he could do for an apology without having to actually apologize.

“So,” he sat on the edge of one of the two beds in your room, the one that didn’t seem like you slept on it every night, “what’d you tell him?”

“Hm?” you asked as you poured liquor from the bottle in your bag into two paper cups. It wasn’t as nice as drinks at the bar, but Walt lost that opportunity quite a while ago.

“Said you didn’t tell the guy your real name. What’d you tell him?” He was as curious as he was jealous. It was a side of you he’d never seen before and he wondered if any of it was genuine.

You laughed as you handed him one of the cups, taking a seat on the end of the bed next to him. “I’ve got a whole rolodex of lines I give people in bars,” you took a sip of your drink, “especially when I’m working.”

He chuckled at the mental image of that, just cards upon cards flipping through in your brain whenever someone approached you and offered to buy you a drink. “Yea?”

“Yea. Why? Looking for some pointers?” you asked as you nudged his shoulder with yours.

“No, no.”

“Sounds like you might be,” you joked. “Should’ve stuck around and seen it for yourself.”

“I saw plenty,” he mumbled out without thinking better of it.

The statement didn’t give you pause so much as the way he said it. Turning to face him, you asked, “What was that?”

He shook his head, a little too quick to be casual. “Nothing.”

The fresh wave of warmth washing over you from the drink you’d been sipping on didn’t slow down the turning of the gears in your brain. “Is…is that why you—”

“No,” he cut you off, already knowing where the sentence was going and not wanting it to go there.”

Your eyes widened for a moment. “All that shit about me being careful,” you shook your head, “and you’ve been sulking here this whole time because you were jealous?”

“Don’t fuckin’ say it like that,” he told you, unable to look you in the eyes.

Leaning back, you braced the palm of your empty hand against the mattress. “Then look me in the eyes and tell me I’m wrong.” The silence that passed spoke volumes, as did the fact that Walt’s eyes stayed glued to the cup in his hands. “You could’ve offered to buy me a drink,” you said, shifting your tone a little bit, softening the conversation just slightly.

Walt rolled his eyes, not liking the fact that this was all starting to feel a lot like pity. “It’s not,” he sighed, bringing one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “just forget it.”

“No,” you said with a laugh, “I won’t.”

Finally, he turned and looked at you. “I have never seen you act like that with anyone before.”

You chuckled. “Yea, well, that’s because they say it’s usually bad form to flirt with your coworkers. Bedroom eyes are unprofessional, apparently.”

That got a choked laugh out of him. “Apparently.”

“I like you, Walt,” you said.

His eyes widened for a moment as he registered what you’d just said. “Yea?”

You laughed, nodding. “Yea. When you’re not pouting quite so much, I like being around you. I’m, you know,” you gestured to the wall behind you, behind the headboards, “I’m glad I share a wall with you.”

His eyes dropped back to the floor. “It’d be stupid to do something, right?”

You shrugged, finishing off your drink. “Yea. But, I mean,” you laughed softly, “it’s also kinda stupid to get jealous over some random guy in a bar buying me a drink sooo…” your voice trailed off.

Walt sighed, letting his head drop back so that he was looking up at the ceiling. No matter what did or didn’t happen next, he knew that he wasn’t ever going to live that down. “Right.”

He followed your lead, finishing off his drink as well. You could see it in his body language that he was about to get up and leave, take the few short steps that would get him back to his room on the other side of the wall. You didn’t want him to go.

Clearing your throat, you said, “Walt?”

He looked over at you, and only got half a syllable out of whatever his response was going to be before you leaned in and brought your lips to his. You felt the way he froze for a moment, a brief hesitation that almost had you pulling away and apologizing. You two had just finished saying it would be a stupid idea.

But then Walt’s brain caught up with the rest of him and he was kissing you back. Empty paper cups fell almost silently to the floor as you brought the hand that wasn’t helping you keep your balance to his chest, fingers curling into the cloth of his flannel and pulling him towards you even more. Walt had one hand on your thigh, the other barely grazing the side of your face, like he was afraid to commit to holding it.

If the circumstances had been different, maybe you would’ve taken your time. Knowing that Walt had been stewing on those feelings for however long would’ve made you a little more patient. But every second since you crossed the border had felt borrowed, and you didn’t want to waste a single one. So you quickly maneuvered yourself, swinging one leg over him so that you were sitting, straddling his lap.

You ran both hands up Walt’s chest, and despite the fact that he still had on his flannel and his t-shirt, he still let out a, “Fuck,” under his breath as your palms and fingers raked over him. His hands settled on your hips as you kissed him again. All either of you could taste off each other was liquor and cigarettes, but at least it was honest.

Your hands gripped onto his shoulders as you began to grind your hips against his. He moaned into your mouth as he kissed you, hands sliding from your hips to your ass. Whatever hesitation he’d felt before was long gone now, along with the annoyances the two of you had been volleying back and forth since you got back.

You pulled away just enough so that you could pull your shirt off over your head. Walt was left slack jawed for a moment, taking in the sight of you on his lap with nothing on but your bra and jeans. When the gears finally started turning again, he ran through all the buttons on his shirt faster than you’ve ever seen anyone ever do it before. Within seconds, both his shirts were discarded onto the floor alongside yours.

His hands came to rest on your sides, gentle at first, like he was still wrapping his mind around the fact that he got to touch you like this. Then he gripped onto you with a little more force, bringing you back in so he could kiss you again. His arms wrapped around you, hands splaying across your back. Every motion was punctuated with blunt fingernails and rough callouses, the sensation of it making you put a little more urgency in your movements as your hips moved against his.

Letting his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, he spoke, words coming out muffled against your mouth but you could make them out well enough as he said, “C’mere.”

Deceptively strong in a way that caught you off-guard, Walt had you on your back on the mattress, himself positioned between your legs and hovering over your chest. He kissed you on the lips one more time before pulling away from you. He pulled away just enough so that he could undo the button and zipper of your jeans. You quickly toed off your boots, making it easier for Walt to pull your pants and underwear down your legs and completely off you. You shimmied a little farther up the bed as he rid himself of the last of his clothing as well.

Then he was right back on top of you, one hand cupping your face, one hand gripping onto your thigh. You didn’t let him pull his lips back off of yours, desperate for just a little more. Sliding one hand down between your bodies, you wrapped it around him. The contact immediately caused him to moan, made him buck into your hand even though you hadn’t started moving it yet.

Smiling into the kiss, you brought your other hand up, lacing your fingers through his hair and gripping, tugging just slightly as your other hand started to slowly move up and down his length. He muttered curses against your lips as he brought the hand that was on your thigh between your legs, pulling sounds out of you that he hadn’t even dared to daydream about.

Not wanting to wait any longer, you lined him up at your entrance. You let him feel how wet you already were, dragging the head of him up and down your slit. His hand was balled into a tight fist on the sheets beside your head, trying to have a modicum of self-control. You saw how hard he was fighting to keep it together, and you almost wanted to have something slick to say, but more than that you just wanted him inside you, so you guided him in and he had no hesitation about thrusting the rest of the way into you.

All the stress, the anger, the weight of the world that Walt always made himself carry around on his own shoulders, it all seemed to disappear for a moment. You wondered if it was because he finally found a good enough distraction, or if it was because he could channel all that anger with the world into the thrust of his hips. Maybe things just seemed a little less hopeless when he had you saying his name against the shell of his ear, asking for more.

You made it so easy for him to not have to think about anything but you. Every single part of you felt like it was there for him in that moment, and that feeling alone almost had him seeing stars right off the rip.

He could hear it in your voice, the way you gasped and whined, that you were close. Your nails raked down the side of his face, over the stubble that was getting longer by the day, searching for any kind of tether to hold onto. Your nails left a series of crescents behind, digging into his shoulder and back as you came, your hips desperately bucking up against his. He followed shortly after, reveling in the feel of you, in knowing that he was able to get you like this. He kissed you hard as he came inside you, rough enough to put a little pain in with all of the pleasure.

When the two of you finally pulled apart, you slipped beneath the thin sheet and blanket on top of the bed. Up until now it’d been perfectly made the entire time you’d been staying there. You watched Walt as he swiped his underwear off the floor, pulling them on before grabbing yours as well. He held them out slightly, a wordless question, and you couldn’t help but to laugh as you nodded and let him toss them to you.

You saw the flicker of apprehension on his face, like he was trying to figure out whether or not he should be putting the rest of his clothes back on too. “You can stay,” you told him with a nod, propping the side of your face in your hand. “No point in leaving just to be on the other side of the wall.”

He visibly relaxed at that, relief coursing through him. “Right.”

He climbed in on the other side of the bed, laying close but still leaving a bit of a gap between you. He didn’t know what was supposed to happen now, what the protocol was supposed to be. None of this had been in his plans.

Rolling over, you swiped your pack of cigarettes and your lighter off the night stand that was between the two beds. You held the pack out to him, offering him one. He took one, of course, and since you were the one with the lighter in your hand, he even let you light it for him before you grabbed one for yourself and sparked it up.

He watched as you laid on the bed beside him, staring up at the ceiling as you blew smoke rings. You looked so pleased with yourself, bedsheet pulled up over your chest as you watched the smoke rise and then disappear.

“That your party trick?” he asked.

You laughed, turning your head to look over at him. “Hardly. My last partner, the one I had before I came down here, he taught me how to do it.” You took another drag off your cigarette, puffing out another ring for emphasis. “Too many hours cooped up in a shitty car on stakeouts with nothing better to do.”

He chuckled. “Oh yea?”

“Don’t worry,” you looked over at him with an amused glint in your eyes, “I wasn’t doing this on stakeouts.”

“I didn’t say—”

“You would’ve thought of it later and never let it go,” you cut him off, giving a small dismissive wave of your hand, painting a swirl with the smoke coming off your cigarette as you did.

There was more to be said, you were sure of it. There were discussions to be had, probably boundaries to be laid out. But you didn’t want to get into all of that in the moment. It was good. Things felt good and easy after weeks of everything feeling anything but good and easy. Judging by the look on Walt’s face, he was having very similar thoughts. So you both finished your cigarettes in silence. Walt leaned, reaching over you to drop it into the ashtray. On the way back, he stopped, letting his arm drape across you for a moment. The look on his face was one of asking for permission, like he needed to know that this little bit of softness was okay after everything that had happened.

You just smiled before reaching and turning off the lamp, sending the room into darkness. Rolling onto your side so that your back was to Walt, you gently grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm around you. He slid up behind you so that his chest was pressed to your back, keeping the two of you close. This would do for now. Everything else could at least wait until morning.

[emmyhem]

always (l.r.h)

a/n: hi everyone! this is a lil angsty piece i wanted to get up. i just want to say again how sorry i am for not getting anything up for the past two weeks, i’ve just been overwhelmed with some stuff for my classes, but i am starting to get back in the swing of things now. also, this is unedited as i was rushing to get it up in time. i do plan on posting something else tomorrow night and hopefully i’ll be posting pretty consistently from now on. also this does end kind of abruptly but i wanted to leave it like that because i’m a sucker for angst, with that being said i would be happy to write a part two if that’s something you’d be interested in. anyway, feedback and comments are appreciated as always and i hope you’re all having an amazing day/night. enjoy! - emmy <33

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader 

summary: luke recounts his mistake and hopes he can patch things up with his always. 

warnings:  very brief mention of sex, cursing, mentions of alcohol, luke’s being an asshole, mention of pinching (idk), slight insecurity from the reader, lots of angst :( 

word count: 2.6k

Luke had always hated the quiet. That’s when his thoughts were the loudest. That must be why he had never really liked being alone with himself. 

Tonight in particular, his thoughts were practically screaming, one word over and over again. 

“Y/n”

For the past two years that name had acted as his most favorite word, one that he would utter whenever he had gotten the chance. Whether it be to brag about your recent accomplishments to his friends, to catch your attention from another room, or falling from his lips with a sigh of pleasure as he reached completion with you laying breathlessly beneath him. 

Now the word seemed torturous, the last time he uttered it replaying on a relentless loop in his head. 

It was your 2nd anniversary. Dinner had been laid out on the table for an hour. Two glasses of wine sat untouched in front of a vase of roses you had picked out at the florist earlier that morning, and there was no sign of Luke. 

You were wracking through your brain as you watched a petal fall from a rose and land lightly in one of the glasses. 

Had you gotten the time wrong? 

But you were sure that the two of you had agreed on 8:00 for dinner, that way you had time to get everything ready after getting home from work, and Luke wouldn’t have to rush to leave the studio. 

Yet somehow you found yourself staring at the now cold dinner at 9:30, with absolutely no word from Luke. You wanted to call, if for no other reason than to check he was still alive and breathing, but your nerves stopped you from doing that, not wanting to take on the role of the overbearing girlfriend. 

Your stomach growled hungrily over the light music that was playing through the house speakers. So, begrudgingly you took a bite of the pasta on your plate before downing your entire glass of wine. 

Luke arrived home about 2 hours later, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. He caught sight of the table, with one setting completely untouched as he hung up his coat, causing guilt to pang in his chest. 

“Baby,” he called out, carrying himself to your shared bedroom.

When no response came his heart rate sped up in fear that you had left. 

“Y/n” he called, louder this time with a sense of urgency clear in his voice.  

That’s when he spotted a person sized lump underneath the duvet. Releasing a sigh of relief he moved towards you, peeling the blankets off and leaving a soft kiss on your shoulder. 

This caused you to stir a bit, eyes fluttering open to meet him. 

“Hi, my love.” he cooed. 

A frown was prominent on your face, and a crease separated your eyebrows as they furrowed angrily. 

“I’m sorry I’m late. We got a bit carried away in the studio, but in good news the album is coming along great. M’so excited for you to hear it” 

You had always tried to be understanding of Luke’s job for many reasons. One being that you both reaped the benefit of his success, you wanted for essentially nothing, had a nice house, the opportunity to travel, and Luke often spoiled you with gifts even if you asked him not to. Another being how happy it made your boyfriend. Music truly was his passion, and he was so talented that you wouldn’t want for him to ever put his work on the back burner for you. 

With that being said, you made a point to take time off to spend time with him whenever you were able to. You had even changed jobs because your last one hadn’t allowed you to go on tour with him, which he had been adamant about, insisting, “There’s no way I can be away from you for that long.” 

And you were happy to do all of those things, because you were in love, and  you felt incredibly lucky to even be a part of his world. But you did start to question things as your relationship went on. It felt like Luke didn’t even consider your job. He only saw it as something that took you away from him. 

You had worked hard to get where you were in the occupational field. Without your job all you would have to do is sit around and wait for Luke to be ready for you, and you just couldn’t live like that. 

Luke turned on the lamp on your nightstand as you slowly sat up in bed. 

“2 weeks Luke, we’ve had these plans for two weeks.” 

“I know baby I tried, but you know how it is when inspiration strikes.” he dismissed while sitting the flowers on the ground. 

“No, I don’t. Do you not think that I have things I could be doing for work? Cause I do, and I choose this over all of that.” you huffed in frustration. 

Luke took a deep breath while subtly rolling his eyes. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry for missing dinner, but you don’t understand the pressure I’m under, from the fans, the label, management, and the band.” 

“I know that you work hard and I know how important this is to you, and I’m so proud of you, but I’m proud of us too and I would’ve liked to have a night for just us.” you tried to explain. “Not to mention the fact that I’m under pressure in my job too and I always find time for you, no matter what.” 

“Yea, you have pressure from a job that you don’t need.” his voice rising in anger with each word as he paced around the room. 

“How many times do I have to tell you Luke? It’s my job, it’s a part of my life and I don’t plan on giving it up anytime soon.” you shouted. 

“Great.” he replied sarcastically. “Then you should understand that I won’t give up my job anytime soon.” 

“I’m not asking you to, I’m just asking for a bit of consideration, and just a sliver of your time.” 

“I’m working to make us more money.” he stated.

“Luke, we don’t need any more money. You should be working because you enjoy it and because it’s your passion.”

He let out a condescending laugh before turning to look in your eyes. 

“Yea, well you don’t seem to mind all the money when you're sitting at home in the house that I bought, and leeching off of my bank account on the daily. D’ya think you could afford all the shit you have just based on your salary?” he spat crudely. 

You physically leaned back as if the words had just actually been thrown at you. They must’ve, because the pain they caused felt far too real to just be emotional. You opened your mouth to fight back, to scream, to do something but the lump in your throat prevented anything to come out other than a sad, and pathetic squeak. 

Was that what he thought about you? 

This had caught you completely off guard. Sure, you were expecting an argument, you’d even say you were expecting a big one, but you would’ve never guessed he would throw this in your face. 

You felt betrayed. It had always made you insecure that you were making such little money compared to your boyfriend. 

Some days after receiving your paycheck you would go out and spend it all on Luke, solely because you wanted to know that you could contribute too. You would do that whenever you got the chance, to reassure that your work was important, and valid. And mainly to show Luke that you appreciated all he did for you. 

He would always reply, “You don’t have to do this, love. I like spoiling my girl.” 

Yeah right. 

“I wasn’t, I m-mean I don’t try to lee-,” you paused, the word feeling too gross to repeat back. 

“Well, you do whether you're trying or not so the least you can do is give me a break occasionally.” he spoke casually, while changing into sweats as if he wasn’t ripping you apart with every word. 

You kept a blank stare at the bedroom door, your eyes already stinging with unshed tears. You wished you could be angrier but his words left you questioning and feeling guilty. 

As hard as you’d tried to provide for yourself and make your own way you couldn’t help but wonder if you had subconsciously started leaning on him, more than you had ever wanted. 

Luke continued getting ready for bed, not taking a second look at you since hitting you with his harsh words. 

“I-I’m sorry.” you croaked. 

“It’s fine, Y/n I just wish you could’ve been slightly more understanding.” he continued, still not facing you. 

“I think that maybe, I mean, um I gotta go.” you were speaking through tears, as you abruptly stood from the bed and hurried to leave the room. 

This caught Luke’s attention causing him to spin in your direction at lightning speed, finally taking in your emotional state.

“Going? Going where? I-what are you talking about?” 

You didn’t reply, grabbing your keys, bag, and shoes as you continued to speed to the front door. 

“Y/n!” he continued, following closely behind you. 

You paused at the front door and turned to meet his eyes. His stressed appearance subsided as you allowed him the opportunity to talk. 

“You’re upset.” he concluded, reaching a hand out to hold your cheek.

You leaned away from his touch and shook your head lightly, “M’not.” 

His features softened and he took another step closer to you, “You are. I’m sorry, I was harsh.” 

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” 

“Didn’t know?” 

“I don’t want t-to leech” you stuttered out. 

This rendered Luke speechless, realizing how cruel his words had been. You had taken this as an opportunity to exit the house, quickly running to your car. Luke made it to the driveway just in time to see you drive away. 

“Fuck” he snapped, jogging back towards the house to get his phone and call you in hopes of convincing you to come back. 

After calling you at least 20 times with no response he conceded and decided he should try and get some sleep, that way he was rested enough to get you to forgive him in the morning. 

His body fell naturally to his side of the bed, but his eyes lingered on where you typically laid. 

Rolling onto his back, eyes finding the ceiling he muttered to himself, “I’m an idiot.” 

Eventually he was tiring out, the bedroom ceiling growing extremely boring after staring for so long. He turned on his side to hug your pillow to his chest. As his hand slid under the pillow it came into contact with an envelope that had been hidden underneath. 

He sat up and flicked on a lamp to read the front, “To my Lu” 

He could tell that you had taken your time penciling on your words, each letter was flawless and written delicately. Before ripping it open he hesitated, questioning whether or not he even deserved to see what was inside after the way he spoke to you. The selfish part of his brain won for the second time that night. 

The first thing he saw after opening was two airline tickets situated just in front of a folded piece of notebook paper. 

He held his breath as he brought them into the light, two roundtrip business tickets to Sydney. 

He rushed to read the note you had left with them, unfolding it quickly. 

“Lu, 

Happy two years, my love. I can’t believe I’ve been lucky enough to call you mine for this long. Not a day goes by where I’m not in complete and utter awe of you and everything you do for me. I know how hard you work and how much you miss home and your family while you continue to grow in your music, and in yourself everyday. I know these aren’t the best tickets you’ve ever had by any means or the most extravagant vacation you’ve taken, but I wanted to show you how much I love you and how much I know you deserve, and need a break. We have 2 weeks, we leave tomorrow. I’ve worked it all out with the guys and your label. I know this is just a small way to repay you for the way you’ve taken care of me and the way you’ve loved me so selflessly for so long but I hope it shows you just a sliver of how much I love you. 

Yours always, 

               Y/n” 

He traced the letters of your name repeatedly as he blinked back a few stinging tears, before falling asleep, the note clutched tightly to his chest. 

That was a week, and about 100 missed calls ago.

About two days after you left, your friend had called to let him know that you were safe and staying with her for the time being. It had slightly lessened his worry, but the guilt he felt grew exponentially each day he had no reason to say your name.

He had claimed your side of the bed as his own in hopes that it would bring you closer to him. When he had finally dragged himself out of bed to shower he used your body wash and as embarrassing as it sounds nearly cried when the room was flooded with the familiar rose scented steam. And tonight while scouring through the liquor cabinet and feeling completely sorry for himself he had come across a bottle of tequila that you had purchased on your most recent vacation. 

Luke had put a serious dent in it by the time he was done scrolling through all of his pictures of you, and his finger began to itch with the need to call you. 

Through blurry and clouded eyes he located your contact, a breath hitching in his throat when he clicked the call button. 

With each unanswered ring he pinched his wrist, willing himself to wake up and discover this was all just some horrible nightmare, that he would just roll over and see you curled up next to him, warm, and sweet, and perfect. So fucking perfect. 

“You’ve reached y/n. Sorry I can’t get to the phone, leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Thanks” 

But it’s not his nightmare that got him here, it’s his mistake. 

“Y/n,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and scratchy as he hasn’t used it much in the past couple of days. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore, I miss you and I’m sorry. I-” his heart was pounding and his intoxication numbed him from the feeling of  the hot tears that streamed down his face as he continued. “M’selfish baby. I’m so selfish and I was talking out of my ass that night, of course you’re not leeching. That’s fucking ridiculous, you couldn’t be, I give you nothing compared to what you give me. I just don’t know how to admit I’m wrong and the money is bullshit, it doesn’t matter, we could both live without it.”  his chest felt tight as he took a large gulp of air. “I-I can’t live without you, really I don’t think I can. I need you and I love you. I love you so much. Just please come home to me, please baby. I need you with me, and I want to fucking give you the world and I know you don’t need me to give it to you. I want to. I just-I want to give you everything, anything. You can have it all. It’s yours. I’m yours, alwa-”  his pleads were cut off by the dial tone. 

“Always.” he repeated, staring at the black screen. 

pt. 2

[outarizaki]

Lovesick. — Levi Ackerman.

SYNOPSIS: In a world infested with mindless, horrendous human-chomping titans, you’d never expected that Levi taking care of you was how you’d go out.

WC: 2.3k

PAIRING: Levi Ackerman x Reader

GENRE: Fluff

A/N: this is my first time writing for levi/aot in general and just overall my first time in a long time from doing creative writing i hope you guys like it!

In truth, Winter has never been your most favorite time of the year.

After all, those delicious hot meals, thick blankets, and cozy naps by the fireplace always came with a price for you every single year, wherein the same chilly weather that granted you those several pleasures only betrayed you and bit you in the ass annually, reeling you in again and again for recurring nightmarish sicknesses.

For as long as you remember, you’ve never fared well with such drastic change in weather. Ever since you were a little girl, your fevers were sky high enough to make your mother lose at least a year off her life with every time they checked your temperature around the dreaded season.

Thus even now, as a distinguished and mighty cadet in the Scout Regiment, there you lay, thrashing in wrinkled sheets with a spiking fever of 103° Fahrenheit.

It was quite an unraveling series of events. Perhaps you should have let it be known much earlier to your squad and superiors.

Maybe they would have taken your sudden, voracious collapse against a blushing Jean in the mess hall a little less seriously.

You could still recall those same goofy shrieks of surprise from your squad members with a grin. The look on Connie’s face was absolutely priceless.

But as you stared up at the ceiling, sweat beading at your hairline and mouth clammy with dehydration, your mind could only render and wring out the possible reactions that could have emitted from your Captain Levi.

Ever since you joined the squad, you’d been naturally drawn and fond of him. His cold demeanor seemed to be just a thin layer between a complex personality, and as much as you hated to admit, you desperately, secretly wanted to claw underneath that sheen.

It started with one sleepless night in which you brought yourself to the kitchen to rid yourself of your heavy mind with a book, only to find your captain sitting idly with a cup of tea.

You remembered the first encounter, how you babbled apologies like some sort of nitwit and he scowled and waved you off, uttering an, “it’s not like I own the damn room, quit being an idiot and do what you need,” before you dejectedly nodded and took a seat with a book just some feet away from him.

The insomnia seemed to grow only more and more, and a few more awkward nightly greetings later, it became a routine. He slowly began to acknowledge you, humming short replies and holding small talks every now and then.

Then on the field and during training he mindlessly complimented you. In his own way, of course.

A grumble of, “you didn’t get killed,” or, “you didn’t look like complete shit out there,” were some hearty examples of that.

Time went on as you began to loosen up even more around the squad, shamelessly poking fun at your members and joking around with them constantly. Even berating the Captain every now and then with snarky remarks that earned hesitant chuckles and gasps from your team, and even sometimes, if you looked really closely, a smirk from the Captain himself.

So with your poor little heart, ready to yearn, there was a spark of fondness towards him. One you wish would smother before it fanned out even more.

Damn him.

You wondered what he had thought when he saw you faint atop of Jean, that poor boy. How ridiculous you must have looked. How humiliating it must have been.

“God, I could die,” you groan aloud and fling your body on your side, hands coming to grasp at the roots of your scalp.

“That is quite an exaggeration, don’t you think?”

That voice. Speak of the devil.

Instantly, you spring up to meet his gunmetal gaze, hissing at the speed that caused your brain to seemingly rattle in your head with fatigue.

He tsks his tongue, brows furrowing together in an unamused manner as he walks towards the table across your bed. You swallow gently, gaze averting to the tray he holds with a small teapot, one teacup, and liquid medicine. You grimace.

“Oi...” Levi begins without looking back at you. You look to his stature expectantly. “You look like shit,” he says, finally twisting his torso to lock with your gaze.

A breathy, sarcastic laugh escapes your lips.

“Gee, you have such a way with words, Captain Suave,” you croak out with a roll of your eyes before easing your posture, allowing yourself to slouch.

“Don’t call me that.”

With his back faced to you once more, Levi feigns an aggravated grumble, yet the ghost of a grin still resides on his face. You watch in silence as he begins to move around the things on the tray.

You take your time to drink in the sight. His raven undercut, bangs slightly covering his handsome face, his white button-up rolled up at the sleeves showing off his veiny forearms, his black pants and leather shoes, the look of faint concentration on his sculpted face as he pours the contents of the teapot into the cup... and God, his hands. So slender and delicate, his fingers nice and long and—

Shit. What are you doing?

You take a deep breath and compose yourself in time before he turns at you again, bored look on his face as he approaches you with a cup of tea and the tiny bottle of medicine.

“Never thought I’d have to babysit one of my most promising Cadets,” Levi drawls out, handing you the teacup. Your fingers graze against his as you accept it, breath hitching in your throat slightly.

You fight off the gooey feeling by occupying yourself with his crude words.

Scoffing, you take a small sip of your tea, only to frown at the feeling of hotness. Levi’s brow arches in question.

“Who said you had to, Captain?” You say softly. “You’re busy. Why didn’t you ask Sasha to come instead? She would have brought me some good food, too.”

“Stolen you food, you mean. And what? You don’t like my tea?” He husks out, to which you perk up in realization.

Quickly, you shake your head to deny his question. “The tea is lovely. But I’m pretty sure my body is hotter than that teapot, and quite frankly the warmth feels suffocating,” you preach.

“Plus, you’re busy. And I look — indecent. You said it yourself,” you whisper the last part shyly, gulping down another sip of tea.

Levi feels taken aback. Surely you hadn’t taken offense to his comment, right? Brat, he thinks to himself.

“Tea is good for when you’re sick. You’re nauseated. Did you expect us to give you some sweet or cold crap while you have a fever?” He says sharply, squinting slightly.

You chuckle a bit at that.

Waving your hand, you grumble. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” you roll your eyes.

“Quit rolling your eyes at me.”

“Quit giving me a reason to.”

“Oh, you want me to give you a reason to roll your eyes back, Cadet?”

Your gaze widens and you feel yourself choke on your tea.

Your arm bolts to set your cup onto the nightstand and you glare up at him. You swear you see the faintest hint of amusement glint in those stupid grey eyes of his.

Suddenly, you’re feeling a little too hot. And you’re sure it’s not your fever.

Levi raises his brows, unimpressed as he leans forward. Slowly, he brings his hand to your forehead and presses his cold fingers against you. You feel your heart stutter in your chest, holding in your breath.

“You’re burning up.”

Wow, I wonder why.

“Yea? Tell me about it. I’m literally feeling all of it as we speak, old man.”

He clicks his tongue in irritation, straightening his back before jolting his arm at you with the bottle expectantly. “You’re better off holding your tongue, Cadet. Now take your medicine.”

Your face scrunches up. He narrows his eyes as you cross your arms and look elsewhere.

“L/N.”

“No.”

“Now.”

“No! It tastes gross.”

His eye twitches at your defiance.

“God, this is like talking to a little kid. Take it or I swear-“

“No.”

“Take the damn medicine. And that’s an order, Cadet.”

You look up at him with a scowl. Hesitantly, you take the bottle before unscrewing it, taking your sweet time until finally you down it reluctantly.

Meanwhile, your Captain stands with his arms crossed, albeit satisfied that you finally listened.

Once it goes down your throat, you gag slightly.

“God, this shit is vile-“

“Language.”

“It’s worse than what we usually take! What is this?”

“Higher grade medicine. I had to ask Erwin and a few of the nurses for even just that small dosage, you damn brat. I need you back on your feet ASAP.”

You blink. He went through trouble just to get you medicine? A fond grin starts to stretch on your lips.

“Thank y-“

“Don’t thank me. It’s my job to keep my Cadets at their best,” he practically half-lies through his teeth.

Oh. Right.

You nod, that fluttery feeling slightly dampening at his words. Of course. You’re just a young woman in his squad. His subordinate.

Levi notices. He doesn’t say anything.

“Now get some rest. I’ll clean up your room. It’s filth in here,” He scrunches his nose.

“Maybe ‘cause I’m sick, smarta- I mean, Captain,” you slur drowsily as you plop down onto the pillows. Whatever you took, it was strong.

The look on his face affirms he didn’t take lightly to your potential word vomit, though he allows to let it slide, much to your favor.

Levi groans, tidying up the teacups and the pile of clothes by the baskets, as well as the used bedsheets. He stops to think what in the hell he’s doing, going out of his way to care for one soldier.

He chalks it up to it simply being a better option than the inevitable mountains of paperwork he has to face later. That was it. Right?

A moderate amount of time had passed until he was satisfied with what he’d done. Levi’s eyes avert to your tiny figure on the bed. Laying flat on your back, arms sprawled beside your head, a dreamy smile on your lips.

The man walks up beside your bed. When you suddenly shift your head towards him, he startles a bit.

A breathy, twinkly giggle leaves your mouth as you look up at him. Levi swears he can feel his heartbeat in his ears.

You pout playfully, pointing an accusatory finger up at him. “Stalker. Are you here to watch me sleep?” You say almost so incoherently, Levi isn’t sure you’re speaking a language.

He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips at your change of demeanor. So out of character, even for you.

The pout on your lips soon curves into a sleepy grin of your own, and your eyes gloss over with something that makes your Captain’s breath hitch in his throat.

Such gentle, comforting fondness.

When you urge him to get closer, he obliges, slightly bending over your figure despite the rouge in his cheeks. Levi holds his breath as you reach up, fingers threading through his bangs to pull them back.

“You’re pretty when you smile, you know?” You whisper gently, the smile never fading from your obviously far-gone face. “Such a handsome boy.”

Heat rises even more to Levi’s face and he gulps thickly as he watches your arms begin to drop, eyelids following soon after.

A delighted, snoozing hum releases from your throat, and only then does Levi allow himself to breathe.

His eyes glance over you once more.

Soft cheeks, pretty eyes, long eyelashes. The tank top on your torso still allowing you to look like the most stunning thing he’s ever seen. The unruly bed-head hair that sat messily, yet still appearing soft to the touch, making him want to rake his fingers through. Your soft lips, still stuck in that smile. Your flushed face.

Levi sighs dreamily and defeatedly. He brings his hand up to pat at the top of your head.

“Shitty girl,” he says underneath his breath, voice cracking like that of a young boy with an unwavering crush. “You look — decent.”

His brows knit together even more as he thinks it over, finally sighing gently.

“You’re much prettier, Y/N,” he whispers, mostly to himself.

Levi then exits your room, his face still hot with fluster, hands shoved into his pockets, and the giddy feeling in his heart still reigning supreme.

And at the corner of the hall reside the Levi Squad members, spying from afar.

“You owe me your next lunch, Connie. I told you they liked each other!”

“Shut up before he hears you!” Jean scolds quietly.

“Oi,” a voice sounds from behind them unexpectedly.

They all freeze. Their blood turns cold. Armin is sure he’s as good as dead.

“Give me fifty laps outside. All of you. Now.”

“Not bad after feeling shitty for so long,” Levi nods at you as you return from combat training for the day.

You smile brightly, eyes twinkling as you catch your breath.

“Mhm. All because of you. Thanks for-“

“Don’t thank me.”

“I said,” you say firmly. “Thank you for taking care of me. You didn’t have to.”

Levi can only sigh and nod. “Sure.”

You beam at that, beginning to stride past him, before stopping midway.

“Oh, and Captain?” You begin.

He grunts in response, slightly turning your way with that same stoic expression.

“For the record,” you hum sweetly. “I think you’re the prettiest.”

And with that you walk away with a proud smirk, leaving Humanity’s Strongest with a pounding heart and the reddest cheeks mankind has ever seen.

[johnnyclash87]

I guess I’m a bit more productive than I thought. I’m not sure about this one.. it’s a continuation of my Maul fic.

@jgvfhl I think you wanted to see more of this?

“What do you mean it’s Jesse, and what do YOU a mean help him?” Ashokas saber pointed threateningly at Maul. As Rex moved aside she could see Maul was holding him, Jesse. She was expecting to see him practically dragging him, like a predator with their prey. But instead he seemed to be actually carrying him, as if, and this was quite a preposterous thought, as if he cared about him.

“You found a way to remove the chip, now do the same for him.. please” That was the first time Maul used the word please since...

“Why would you want us to help him? You kidnapped and tortured him.” Ashokas voice dropped with hatred. Something not long ago she wouldn’t let herself feel. But she was no longer a Jedi and he was a literal monster.

“And I spared his life and returned him to you” Though Maul was indignant in his words a shot of guilt still ripped through him.

“That hardly makes up for the hundreds of my brothers you massacred” Rex had returned his blasters to shooting position. It was his words that truly cut him. He was right, this one act couldn’t possibly reconcile the countless atrocities he committed, if that was ever possible.

“Hate me if you want. You would have every right to. But please just help him”

“This sounds like a trap” Ashoka was clearly not ready to trust him.

“Wait, why do you want us to help him?” Rex may have still had his weapons ready but his voice sounded genuine in its question. If anyone here might understand or at least deserved an explanation it was him.

“I was made into a monster a tool for a cause that was never truly my own. If I’m going to die, I’d like to die knowing for once I did something good. That I can be more than what Sidious made me.” Rex lowered his blasters juts a bit. He didn’t speak but his eyes said that just maybe he understood.

“We should do it Ashoka.”

“I think we should too, but I’m not sure I trust him”.. She said “him” as if she preferred a different less polite word.

“Oh I don’t trust him either but if we can save Jesse..”

“Look, if you want I’ll just give him to you and go back to “causing chaos” as you described” Maul might be trying to change but he still had a limit on his patience. “But we all know if i wanted to kill you too I would have just blown up the engine core”

“He’s got a point, Ashoka” Rex was careful to not let his guard down too much.

“Ok, but only for you, and Jesse. It was hard enough to find your chip, it might take some time” Ashoka switched her sabers off and moved aside from the gurney. Maul carefully handed Jesse over to Rex who cautiously brought him over to the table. Maul stayed where he was, sure he wasn’t quite welcome enough to move around.

Once Rex was in position to keep an eye on him, Ashoka went to work. She placed her hands on either side of Jesses head and centered her mind. She took a deep breath and started the mantra she used with Rex,

“I’m one with the Force and the Force is with me. I’m one with the Force and the Force is with me. I’m one with the Force and the Force is with me...” This time was slightly quicker than before. As Jesse opened his eyes Rex was the first face he saw and as he say up, Ashokas was the next.

“Oh no.. Commander Ashoka.. Im so sorry I couldn’t help-“

Rex placed a gentle hand on his shoulder “It wasn’t your fault, brother, it wasn’t any of our fault”. Together, as best they could, Ashoka and Rex explained the chips and their purpose in Sidious plan.

“And what is HE doing here?” Maul was quite used to people reacting to him with horror and disgust otherwise the way Jesse looked at him might hurt more than it did.

“Believe it or not, he actually brought you here so we could take out your chip” Ashokas tone said that she wasn’t sure she believed it herself.

“Well. Now that that’s done. I’ll get back to.. whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing” Maul turned and stepped out the door

“Wait” He wasn’t sure if that was Rex’s voice or Jesse’s. He turned back around to look.

Jesse stood up from the gurney; “When Maul was..looking into my mind, I saw something’s too. It wasn’t much but I saw what he went through.. what Sidious did to him.. He’s just as much a victim in all this as we are.” Ashoka shook her head.

“Jesse, he had a choice to change, you and Rex didn’t, not with those chips”

Surprisingly it was Rex who spoke next “Im not sure, Ashoka..It’s not just the chips, it’s how we’re raised and trained too. So many of us have done things we knew were wrong simply because we were ordered too. Just look at Dogma, there’s more of us like him than you know. Is that any different than what Maul went through?”

Ashoka sighed; “Well.. This wouldn’t be the first time I worked with a war criminal.”

“Right now we need to work on a plan to save the rest of the Troops” Rex was quick to get them back on task.

“Funny I was just thinking of that.” Ashoka cocked her head pensively. “Didn’t the Coruscant Guard bring knock out gas grenades with them?”

Rex answered her “Yea for crowd control in case things got out of hand on Mandalore”

“We can use that to render everyone unconscious then we can work on removing the chips.”

“There should be enough gas but I reviewed the inventory, we don’t have many grenades. We’d have to get them all in one place or as many as we could”

“Well that sounds like an obvious solution.. what’s the one thing on this ship literally every Clone besides you two wants?” Ashoka held her arms out to her side as if the answer wasn’t clear.

“Oh no. We might as well just shoot you ourselves” Jesse held up his hands.

“I’m not sure we have a choice.. besides I’ll have you two.. I guess three, watching my back” Ashoka gestured to Maul.

“Ok well then how do we get them all together?” Rex crossed his arms waiting for ideas. Jesse was the first with a suggestion.

“The two of us could take her two them as our prisoner”

Rex shook his head “We’ve done the fake prisoner routine so often, they’ll see it coming. Besides they’ll want to know why we didn’t kill her” Now Maul spoke up, breaking his silence

“Then I’ll do it. I’ll offer her as my prisoner”

Ashoka seemed to tense up; “I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with that”

“I’m not a Clone so I’m not under any orders to kill you and I’m not a Jedi so technically they aren’t ordered to kill me.”

Rex tapped his fingers “Honestly he’s right. The only reason I ordered Maul executed was.. well he’s Maul. Nothing personal” his last words were directed at the Zabrack himself.

“Yes it was”

Jesse raised a hand “So if I’m getting all of this. The plan on the board is to have a known murderer and Sith Lord take Ashoka prisoner and use her as bait for a ship full of highly trained soldiers with strict orders to kill her on site?”

“It seems like it” There was hardly any confidence in Rexs voice

“Ehh, we’ve had worse”

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 51: Folly

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Fifty-Two: Folly

Notes: I do so love these talking chapters. That’s where the character development happens. But this shall be one of the last ones. There is a lot of action that has to happen soon. No time for words! ACTION!

(-~-)

After spending an entire morning at Morgan’s graduation ceremony, they had come to the unanimous conclusion that such events were extraordinarily dull and that they should have listened to the young woman when she had initially opted not to attend. The sheer amount of pomp and custom had been enough to render even Vergil’s more formal sensibilities raw and unwilling to linger much longer. But they had been forced to stay to the very end as Morgan had apparently been one of the top students. They had to allow her the time to speak, and she had used it to politely but ruthlessly denounce the school’s stagnation before exiting the stage, all of the faculty aside from one teacher seemingly shocked by her words.

By the time they had exited the building, everyone had been thoroughly exhausted. They had opted to travel via public avenues as a means of cloaking themselves, and as such, had spent nearly three hours simply trying to reach their destination. It had been a no-brainer when Vergil had simply opened a portal and silently pleaded with them to just take the direct route back. It was more difficult for any unwanted observers to track, at the very least. As as soon as they had arrived back at V’s doorstep, everyone had practically collapsed on the floor in the entryway. It was barely noon, but they were all sure that they were done with the day.

“Well, that was the most painful four hours of my life,” Nero said, slumping over on the stairs. “I used to think that going to all of those damn sermons that the order wanted us to go to was torture, but that? I think I’d rather Vergil cut my arm off again.”

Morgan stared at Nero in silence for a moment as she looked him up and down, realizing that he either had a very realistic prosthetic, or that his arm wasn’t missing. But she had heard him say the word “again” hadn’t she? He stared back at her before a mischievous smile spread across his face and he held up his right arm. Sure enough, it seemed to momentarily disappear, leaving nothing but a deflated sleeve before reappearing. He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. 

No. She refused to ask about this one. It was just too early in the morning for that.

“To be fair, I never said that attending would be enjoyable. I said it would be satisfyingly petty. Was I incorrect?” V said tiredly as he entered the house behind them. He was already working his way out of his coat, ready to sit down and make a warm cup of tea. Lucia had chosen to stay behind with Flora to keep an eye on things. Perhaps he could track her down and ask her if she’d like a cup? Yes, that was a good plan. He was too tired to be self-conscious. He was staying in this house until they had a plan.

“Fair enough. You’ve got a point.” Nero sighed, sitting on the stairs to unlace his boots. They were covered with snow and slush. No one who wanted to live would be stupid enough to head past the foyer in such a condition. There was just no point.

“So… why’d ya have to sneak into your sister’s graduation? Didn’t you used to go to that school?” Dante asked casually as he tossed his coat on the hanger that V kept in the entryway. The boots came off easily enough. He would make quick work of those. No need to even sit down.

“Because I punched one of the teachers in the face right after I walked off of the stage with my diploma and then they banned me from the school grounds and all related properties.” Bren shrugged, unperturbed. “I’d do it again in a second. I regret nothing.”

“You punched a teacher in the face? At your own graduation ceremony?” Vergil asked, unsure as to whether or not he’d heard that statement correctly. Surely he had been mistaken. He couldn’t think of a single reason why someone would want to do something like that. Mentors could be ruthless, that much was true. But what possessed him to do something so extreme? He couldn’t say that it was his business, but he was admittedly intrigued.

“Oh yea, I punched him. Cold cocked him, actually. And I’d do it again.” Bren hung up his coat, offering to take the remaining coats and put them up for everyone else. “He was a total creep. Used to sneak peeks into both locker rooms when everyone was getting ready for practice. I’m glad that’s all he did. From what we know. He’s upstate now doing ten years. Got caught taking bribes for the sports team. Hope he rots in there.”

Vergil paused before nodding. He could get behind that easily enough. “Fair enough.”

Dante laughed and shook his head. It seemed that there was at least one thing that they agreed on. Although to be fair, the younger of the two had the feeling that Vergil would have done more than punch the teacher in the face. It was lucky for that creep that he had not made that kind of mistake in his brother’s vicinity. How unfortunate. He would have loved to see him get what he had coming. “I get the feeling that he got off pretty easy. Vergil would have probably impaled him.”

“No. They would have found him lying chest down looking up at the sky if I had been one of the parents of those unfortunate students. I dare not sully Yamato’s blade with such lowly blood.” Vergil then stopped curtly and headed into the living room, ready to sit down and not have to be around a stadium full of people again. Or anyone for several hours for that matter. His social battery had been taxed to its absolute limit recently. But there had been no way that he would have allowed both of his sons and the Linquist siblings to go that far away without an escort. He couldn’t stop them, so he decided to tail them and keep an eye out for anything mysterious. Thankfully things had gone off without a hitch. Another good reason to come back the way that they had.

It took everyone present a solid few seconds to register the implications of how that would be physically possible. And once they did, each of them shuddered slightly, the mental image alone gruesome enough to cause them pause. But after a moment they resumed hanging their coats and taking off their shoes, seeing no compelling reason to dwell on it any longer. Strangely enough, none of them could say that they disagreed with his proposed methodology. As long as they didn’t have to do it, then they could totally live with it.

“Sorry, I’m still getting used to the fact that you can do… What do you call it? And how did you do that? What’s a Yamato?” Morgan was clearly confused. She felt like he’d been dropped feet first into the tenth season of a complex show with lore she couldn’t hope to understand. The waters were deep and she was floundering.

Vergil produced the blade from seemingly nowhere, holding it out slightly so that she could have a better look at it. But he dared not let her touch it. “This is Yamato. A demonic blade passed down to me by my father, the Dark Knight Sparda. It has the ability to cut through anything, down to and including the fabric of reality itself, allowing me to open tears in space-time like the one we just passed through to get here. It would have made short work of that teacher.”

“Can I play with it?” She seemed impressed, barely resisting the urge to reach for it.

“Absolutely not.” He stared at her, unable to believe that she’d actually just asked him that.

“Damn.” In truth, she’d known the answer long before she’d asked. But that didn’t stop her from hoping that it wouldn’t be the case. “Wait, your father is the Dark Knight Sparda? Like the guy everybody talks about in all those myths and legends and stuff? He’s real?”

Dante nodded. No use in hiding things. She was going to need to be up to speed as soon as possible. They didn’t benefit from hiding things like this from her. At this point, the fact that most of them were at least part demon was just cursory information. They had no reason to lie to her. “Yea.” 

She paused, seemingly considering something. The sudden widening that her pupils underwent indicated that much to anyone looking in her general direction. “Wait… He’s a demon, right? So you guys are, what? At least part demon? All of you?”

Both Dante and Vergil looked at one another before nodding, followed by Nero a moment later. V simply stared at her blankly, shrugging. He didn’t really need to say it at that point, did he? If his uncle, father, and brother were all at least part demon, then it went without saying that he was as well. That was simply how genetics worked.

“That’s so metal, man.” She nodded to herself, clearly unconcerned and genuinely impressed. It seemed that she was unphased by the sudden realization that she was in a room occupied by only one other pure human seemingly not concerning her in the slightest. But considering the things that she and V had been through together, it shouldn’t have been that surprising that she was unphased by their somewhat supernatural status.

Nero laughed to himself. She was pretty funny, and it seemed as though she was impervious to fear. He had the feeling that whenever she and Nico finally met that they would be the death of him. Maybe she could teach the plucky mechanic to drive like a sane person instead of a violently unstable maniac with a death wish. 

“Guess that explains a little bit more about how everything went totally out of control in Redgrave City so fast. I’m not going to pretend to know why everything that happened, well, happened, and I honestly don’t want to even know because nothing would be a good enough answer, but at least I get how it all went down a little better now. Demons.”

Vergil stopped dead in his tracks. Had that been why she’d been staring at him like that back at Magnolia’s house? She knew about that?! How was that even-

“Look…” She sighed, realizing that what she was about to say was going to make very little sense to anyone other than herself. “My brother talked to me on the phone about it before he came to talk to you guys. He said that the cult he’d been in had kidnapped the son of the person who had been responsible for the attack, but that the person had decided to let him live because he’d helped them find him. I told him that he should still come talk to you because he shouldn’t have been a part of something like that, even if he thought they might be doing bad things for a good reason. He was contributing to that same evil, you know? I’m not gonna pretend I understand what either of you did or why, but I’m choosing to just let that go because it’s all that I can do. And because you spared my brother’s life when he was doing something almost as stupid himself. What other choice do I have?”

He stared at her quietly, everyone in the room going quiet in an effort to not interrupt. None of them could pinpoint why, but this had far more weight to it than they wanted to acknowledge. The tension in the room was incredibly heavy despite the fact that the Darkslayer had “You could choose to hate me. You could seek revenge against me And you would be right to do so. I’d have no right to stop you.”

“Yea, you're right. I could.” She shrugged. “But hating you is the easy choice. And I wasn’t raised to take the path of least resistance. That’s why I’m still here. So I’m going to choose to do the hardest thing I’ve ever done and just let it go. They aren’t coming back either way. But I’m still here and I have to keep going even if I don’t know where I’m headed. Even if it might be worse than where I already am or just as bad. Because there is a chance that where I’m going might be better. Your son taught me that much.”

V started before turning away to face the fireplace. He went to light it again, seeking anything that he could do to escape the gravity of this situation. He wasn’t sure what he felt about any of this. It was just so very much. What he wouldn’t have done to turn back the clock and do… something. Anything to spare them all this suffering. But he couldn’t. It was like she’d said. He had to keep moving forward. And although she claimed he’d shown her that, he wasn’t sure he’d learned that himself until long after he’d met her. 

Could you teach someone a lesson that you yourself had yet to learn?

Just as she was about to continue, there was a knock at the door. Everyone turned in the direction of the door, subconsciously readying themselves for yet another attack. For all they knew their enemy had finally found them. Hopefully, Flora knew a spell that could reverse the damage. Dante sighed and stepped towards the door, unlocking it and then opening it. And then he scoffed, chuckling under his breath.

“Well, I’ll be. Haven’t seen you in a few weeks! Where did you disappear to?”

“I must say, it is a pleasure to see you again, Dante. May I come in? My sincerest apologies. I had to step away and attend to a few affairs back at the office. I hope nothing major has occurred in my absence.” To the collective surprise of everyone, it was Sirrus. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the rack, heading towards the living room as he greeted everyone in turn. Upon catching sight of Vergil, he stopped, a curious look crossing his face as he drew a few feet closer to the Darkslayer who was sitting down on the couch away from the rest of the group. He seemed to be reflecting. “And I see that Vergil has indeed returned! Glad to see it. When last I’d spoken to Magnolia, she had informed me of your extended absence. And she seemed quite forlorn. I fear she believed that you would never return. Thank you for silencing her disbelief.”

“A whole train station blew up and it’s all over the news. Also, V’s curse is worse and there’s an uber-powerful summoner in town using infernal magic.” Flora said dryly as she came down the stairs and made her way into the kitchen. Why was she not surprised to see Sirrus in town again? He’d been around quite a bit recently. The red-haired man stared at her unblinking as she left the room before allowing his hand to travel slowly up to his face as he turned in the direction of the rest of the crew. She shook his head slowly, disbelief evident.

“... Why is it that every time I turn my back on the lot of you that you stick your fingers in the light socket like unruly toddlers?”

Each of the descendants of the Dark Knight Sparda blinked blankly. They couldn’t answer that particular question in any meaningful way, unfortunately.

“I wanted to thank you for your extravagant housewarming gift. In-person. And I noticed the distinct lack of a gift receipt in the event that I could not bear it upon my conscience to receive it.” V didn’t have an answer to this newfound guest’s mostly sarcastic question, but he did have gratitude. He was admittedly thankful for the gift and for Sirrus’s sudden return. The change in mode and subject matter was a welcome one. The reality of what they faced hadn’t changed, but any distraction from the suffering that surrounded them was appreciated. And to be fair, V actually did enjoy being around him.

Sirrus paled before turning away to hide his slight blush. In this cold weather, it was hard to discern what was flushed skin and what was simply a negative reaction to the intimate weather.  “Think nothing of it. It was the least I could do given the circumstances. You saved my life, and this house is far too stately to lay empty, and you did save my life. Too many treasured memories have been formed within its walls to allow it to languish. And I felt a strong desire to ensure that you were… comfortable. You have enough to worry about.”

An awkward silence fell over them for a moment as Morgan looked at V and then at Sirrus before looking at both of them again. She then shook her head and headed over towards the couch. She was going to have to ask V how he’d managed to afford a house like this. Their trauma payments from that charity group after the attack hadn’t been this big. A house like this had to cost a small fortune, especially in this city and especially in this neighborhood. He was probably the youngest homeowner in the entire area!

“If you’d excuse me for a moment, I bought groceries.” He waited for V to nod in agreement before heading towards the kitchen in the back of the building. He paused in front of Morgan, nodding politely before heading towards his destination again. Everyone returned to the task of making themselves comfortable, realizing that they had all gone on alert the moment that they’d seen Sirrus arrive. This situation with Belial had them on edge. They couldn’t wait to be rid of him. Perhaps Sirrus could add something useful to their almost nonexistent plans?

Morgan scooted over so that V could sit next to her, looking the young summoner up and down as she shook her head slowly from side to side. He gave her a sympathetic look that quickly migrated to confusion as he realized that she was only doing this in jest. He was missing a joke here, wasn’t he? Why did the humor of others so often fly right over his head? “Am I missing something?”

“Oh, you’re missing a lot of things, bub.” V mentally chastised Griffon, silently hoping that Morgan couldn’t look at him and tell that he had been momentarily annoyed but his avian companion. He had yet to mention the fact that he possessed a demonic panther and a talking bird with a severe death wish. Although he had the feeling that she wouldn’t really mind. “Not right now, please.”

She pointed towards the kitchen, a smirk crossing her face. She then folded her arms, leaning over so that she could whisper in V’s ear. “So you haven’t noticed that he… You know what? Nevermind. I’ll let you figure it out. It shouldn’t be that hard if I’ve only been around him for like 30 seconds and I already caught onto it.”

A moment later Sirrus called from the kitchen stating that he’d brought everyone tea. Flora sighed in relief. Finally, something that made sense around here. “Wonderful. Spectacular. Finally, some good damn tea.”

(-~-)

I hope you liked this chapter! Now, on to the next one! I’m excited for next week. I have something devious planned! Oh, it feels great to be back! Take care of yourselves out there and I will see you in the comment section! TGIF!

[eqt-95]

s'mores

"You're doing it again."

"Hm?"

"You're on fire."

"I'm on-? Oh shit," Kate muttered with a slew of other curses, swinging the flaming ball of sugar from the end of her found branch. She shot Melvin and James a threatening look through the wave of snickers hidden behind their boyish grins.

"You sure you've done this before, City Slicker?" Melvin continued teasing.

"Yes," Kate growled, secretly grateful the tinge of afternoon sun could hide the burn from her cheeks. The glow of fire from the pit sitting in the middle of the group also added a distorted hue to everything. Plus nightfall cast a reasonable amount of ambiguity over the group. Honestly, Kate was looking for any excuse she could to deflect from embarrassment.

A fluffy white pillow appeared in Melvin's outstretched hand as an olive branch, and Kate begrudgingly took it, piercing it over the burnt crisp that remained from her last two failures.

"Maybe if you spent a little more attention on the marshmallow and a little less on-"

Whatever Melvin was going to say was drowned out by a sea of laughter coming from the other side of the fire. The side where Kate's attention wandered to. The side where she sat, her back poised up against a dead log, her long legs shifting between scrunched up, bound by her arms and stretched out and soaking in the heat radiated off the burning driftwood onto her bare skin. Her warm, soft-

"I'll take that," came Melvin's voice and with it the tug of the stick from Kate's hand.

She was hopelessly distracted; had been all day. It wasn't her fault. No living person should carry the laugh of two dozen angels or smile with the glow of the damn sun. How could anyone expect to carry on a conversation when the alternative was to stumble over words in lieu of hearing her voice instead. Or better yet, why would anyone remember how to swim when that was simply a distraction from watching the controlled, focused way she slid through the water. And certainly why would Kate Kane give a fuck about the bubbling skin of a marshmallow when she could watch the orange light flicker and glow off her skin.

"You could go talk to her."

"You say that like I'm a six year-old with a crush."

"Aren't you?" James asked.

It annoyed her when James chimed in. It wasn't because she didn't like James. It was that if James was clued in, it meant something incredibly obvious was being said.

Kate opened her mouth to argue but was rendered speechless when she looked up to see the spot opposite her sat empty. Her eyes darted around, squinting into the darkness beyond in search of her. She couldn't have just disappeared. Maybe she'd-

"Hey, what does a girl need to get a toasted marshmallow around here?"

Kate choked. On what, she had no idea. It was probably her spit, but that was more mortifying to admit than pretending it was a fly or the wind or something invisible.

"Wh-I-uh…"

To a third-party observer, the comical timing of Melvin's arm thrusting the marshmallowed skewer back into Kate's personal space would have triggered a laugh track. Fortunately for Kate, she was the only witness, but even then she still nearly dropped the gift horse onto the sand as he handed off the sugary baton.

"Uh, yea, I… er, I've been known to, you know… er, roast a good marshmallow."

Kate Kane was not normally an idiot, but somehow Sophie Moore had a knack for jamming the signal between Kate's brain and her mouth. Saying she regressed to a cavewoman was an insult to cavewomen. She was practically a potato. And honestly, even potatoes might object.

"Oh yea? You write your admissions essay on your unparalleled roasting abilities? That slow, rotisserie-style turning technique to ensure only the most consistent, caramelly, bubbly skin encapsulating the decadent, soft, gooshing center of the… uh, Kate?"

"Yea?"

"You're on fire."

Kate wished she was on fire. She wanted to roll right into the fire and face the same charred fate as her third failed marshmallow. Melvin and James didn't have the heart to laugh this time. Instead they flinched away, finding an adjacent log to occupy while the meltdown that was Kate's pride spilled onto the log and then the sand and then the fire and finally into the water beyond. Minnows were feasting on the remnants of Kate Kane. Her tombstone would surely read 'couldn't even roast a fucking marshmallow.'

"Here," Sophie smirked, slipping her fingers around the stick and tugging it away from Kate's unresponsive hand.

Kate relied on silence to guide the next few minutes. Silence and Sophie monologuing about the nuanced ways of properly toasting a marshmallow. The stick rolled seamlessly between Sophie's fingers, setting the pale pillow just within reach of the flickering flames. It was mesmerizing. If all Kate did for the rest of her life was watch Sophie Moore toast marshmallows, she'd be content.

At least, that was until Sophie proceeded to sandwich her perfectly roasted marshmallow between two graham crackers and a slice of Hershey's. Then Kate could have spent the rest of her life watching Sophie Moore bite into the s'more; bite into it and make an absolute mess of everything.

It was everywhere. Kate could have cared less about marshmallows ten minutes ago, but now she was so unbelievably jealous of the strings of melted sugar stretching and catching on Sophie chin, her cheek, her chest, her-

"You'd think I'd never eaten a s'more before. Is it kosher to just lick it off of everywhere?"

"I could help."

"What?"

Idiot.

"Uh, with the, uh… I can… here," Kate choked, swiping up a napkin and waving it a conservative distance from anywhere remotely close to Sophie's skin.

"That's not gonna cut it."

"The.. with the, I can… soap?"

"Soap?" Sophie chuckled. "On the beach."

"Sand?" Kate offered instead.

What a miserable existence. The only silver lining was that Kate had said two real words consecutively without stumbling over her tongue.

"Definitely more accessible but far from practical."

"Right."

"I have an idea."

Then Sophie stood up. Sophie stood up and stripped. Not completely, of course. That would have sent Kate into epileptic shock. No, Sophie did nothing that graphic, but the way she shimmied out of her shirt and cut-off shorts to reveal her bikini from earlier that afternoon set Kate's skin ablaze in a way that had nothing to do with the fire. Or the sun. Or the graveyard of burnt marshmallows.

"What are you doing?"

Four words. A new record.

"Well I'm not about to roll around in the sand."

Kate blinked. Processing. Whirring. Her brain flickered with understanding. "You're going into the water?"

"You coming?"

"Am I… w-with you?"

"Is there anyone else?"

"In the water."

Sophie's head turned in confusion, her eyes narrowing humorously back at Kate.

"You scared?"

"Scared? Me?" Kate repeated, and that's when she felt it: the flare of a challenge. Through months of skittishly toeing the edge, unable to articulate anything beyond a mound of farm animal noises, she had passively watched. She was an awkward observer around Sophie Moore. Nowhere else in her life did she occur this way, but Sophie was different. Kate wanted to impress her. She wanted to be smart and clever for her. She wanted to go toe-to-toe not because she wanted to beat her, but because Kate saw how Sophie could bring out the best in her. The only problem was Kate didn't know how to tap into that… until now.

She climbed to her feet faster than Sophie could register what was happening, and in the blink of an eye Kate had burst past her. "Last one in takes mess hall duty for a month!"

"Oh, you are on, Kane!"

[haikyall]

Words Left Unsaid

Synopsis: Memories were left instead

Pairing/s:Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu & Suna Rintarou (PLATONIC NOT ROMANTIC PAIRING)

Genre: Fluff

WC:  1374

Suna was never the type of guy that would speak his mind. He was quiet, conservative and very blunt if given a chance to speak. He never lets the opponents know what he’s thinking. He wasn’t just good at volleyball, he was also good with the few words in which he spoke.

__________________________

Atsumu has made it his personal goal to annoy not only just Osamu but also Suna as well, seeing as though that he doesn’t give out much of a reaction unlike his twin younger brother. The setter also thinks that it would be such an achievement if he has managed to make Suna’s face scrunch up in annoyance or at least hit him in some place because of it.

The blond setter has tried every trick in the book; water spilling from a bucket above them, throwing a cake at them, surprising the spirits out of their bodies, sending them to the wrong classroom, eating their lunch, not giving them a piece of his lunch, and not giving their water bottles. Again, the kid has tried everything, and all he ever gets is a scolding from Kita, and a boxing session from Osamu, nothing from Suna. All Suna ever does is video record all of the times Osamu and Atsumu were having a fight.

This motivates Atsumu even more… Maybe there was a trick he hasn’t tried…

He thinks of a prank that would tick the middle blocker’s head off. Ruining his uniform wouldn’t cause a ruckus on his blank face, giving him spoiled food wouldn’t do the trick either, he knows when he’s about to trip, nothing escapes that dude’s eyes it pisses Atsumu off more. Perhaps… he just needs to tease him? Maybe get under his skin? But what could possibly irritate a fox?

He remembers how bad Suna must have felt when he realizes that Tsukishima wasn’t actually trying to block him, but baiting him to spike the ball towards the players behind the glasses dude. He felt really bad, it wasn’t obvious since all he’s done was just stare blankly at the ball that fell down, but he was no exception to the guilt and frustration that soon came in when that ball did fall on their side of the court.

Maybe he wasn’t pissed off.

The idea of Suna not feeling any sort of guilt or remorse from that match seemed to piss Atsumu through the roof. He’s had it, Suna’s lack of reaction can’t seem to escape Atsumu’s train of thought as he heads to the middle blocker’s room, ignoring the twin that tries to stop him, his pace quickens so that Osamu can’t catch up to him, he enters Suna’s room to see that he’s lying on the bed, emotionless as always but seamlessly scrolling through his phone. 

“What is it Atsumu?” Suna greets the pouty setter. Atsumu’s face changes from a pout to a solid and blank face. Osamu finally arrives at the room Atsumu had just entered and sees the visible tension. It has only been two days since the match they lost and Osamu knows from the back of his hand that Atsumu has not moved on yet.

“Do you not feel guilty?” Atsumu says in low voice and Suna looks away from his phone and looks at Atsumu in deep thought, like he was just entertaining the idea of the feeling the setter mentions. Suna shrugs and looks back at his phone.

“Guilt… not exactly” He replies. At this point, Osamu interferes, knowing Atsumu would not let the topic go, like Suna gave the wrong answer.

Osamu lays a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him down, “ ‘Tsumu, go back to your room,” Yet the act is rendered useless as the second-year setter seems to not waver in his angered state.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN NOT EXACTLY?” Atsumu asks, frustration keeping him still and oozing out of his body. Osamu’s grip tightens just a bit, a sign of warning from the calm younger twin Suna is shocked at the outburst of Atsumu and is silent about it. Not even a single movement of his face, Atsumu continues, “WE LOST A GAME ON THE FIRST DAY WE EVEN PLAYED AND YOU DON’T FEEL A SINGLE BIT OF GUILT? ANNOYANCE? WHAT KIND OF A HUMAN ARE YOU?“

Osamu’s eyes bulge out at the things Atsumu said that were clearly stepping over the line, “ ‘TSUMU, CUT IT OUT,” he shouts and hits his twin on the nape, hoping it would help him go back to his senses. He loved his twin but this was just too much. 

He wanted the twin that kept on making snarky remarks. The twin that would purposefully piss him off. The twin that would scold him for slacking back both in practice and in games. The twin that would convince Osamu to try out a new move that was different from practice. 

He didn’t like this Atsumu. The twin that was sulky, that suddenly just wouldn’t want to play. The twin that wouldn’t forgive himself. The twin trying to redeem himself. The twin that longed for approval suddenly gets shut down. His competitiveness was his strength but also his demise.

Suna raises an eyebrow and this simple movement catches the twins off-guard. His stoic gaze changes, to a gaze a fox on a hunt would give. No, it wasn’t that, it was like a fox that just came home from hunting, exhausted and exasperated, a fox that just wanted to rest, “A human different from you, Atsumu,” He answers and looks at Atsumu straight in the eyes, “I played well, and that’s all I know,”

Atsumu isn’t fazed one bit of the gaze of the neck chop of his twin and continues, he can’t seem to grasp the idea that there are people who aren’t as pissed as him when it came to losing, “YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT THE FUTURE? THIS COULD PAVE OUR FUTURE AND YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW IT, WHAT ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO SAY TO YOUR GRANDKIDS THAT WHAT? ‘I USED TO PLAY IN ONE OF THE NATION’S FAVORITE VOLLEYBALL TEAM BUT WE LOST THE MOMENT WE STEPPED IN THE COURT?’ WHAT KIND OF MEMORY IS THAT?”

Osamu has no choice but to slap his own twin in the face, he blocks Suna’s gaze with his own body and brings a hand across Atsumu’s face “OI ATSUMU CUT THE BULLSHIT ALREADY, SUNA IS JUST AS UPSET AS YOU ARE! YOU DON’T NEED EVERYONE TO BE OPENLY SULKY LIKE YOU,” A bickering starts with between the twins as to why Atsumu thinks like this and the scene brings light into the room as it fills the gloominess that Suna seldom saw, the brightness was unparalleled to the amount of light trophies that used to shine but now is gathering dust on his shelf.

Suna looks down, as he gives a small smile, the sight catches Atsumu’s eyes and he calms down immediately, eyes locked on Suna. Osamu follows pursuit in confusion as to why his twin suddenly stopped being an ass, “I’ll say ‘Who needs memories?’”

__________________________

Kita ends the story with a smile and a sigh as he recalls one of his last memories as part of the Inarizaki Mens’ Volleyball Team. The two grandkids that were eagerly listening to his story from the first match up to his last play wants to hear more of them. 

“WAAAAAH GRANDPA TELL US MORE!!” A boy kid says, his attitude reminds Kita of what Atsumu was, carefree and more of a hyperactive pill. 

The girl that reminded Kita of what Osamu is but with a bit more energy, “YEA! YOUR TEAM SOUND FUN! Although they fight a lot HAHAHAHA~” The girl says bluntly.

The trio laughs, at the realization of how many arguments Kita can tell them and it would just circulate around the twins. “Yes, they do but that’s what makes them stronger and better friends, aren’t they amazing?”

“OI YOU KIDS LET GRANDPA REST AND HELP MOM WITH THE FARM!” The dad of the kids calls from a far and the kids heed to the beckoning call of it, bidding farewell to their grandfather.

Kita sighs, You did it, you became a team I am proud to say to my grandkids.

[weaponwheel]

i was thinking about which one i found more hysterically funny, “HEY, YOU. yøü’rę fînāhlly awake ... ” or “you’re awake. how ‘bout that?” because they both render me to total fucking breathless laughter, and i settled on the fnv opening being more hilarious if you factor in context. Doc Mitchell is just this 70 y/o country town doctor (that used to go by Mole Butt?? ???) who for the most part probably just gives people basic checkups. patches cuts. gecko bites. probably hasnt practiced a serious surgery in years. suddenly this incredibly conspicuous 7 foot robot pretending to be a fucking cowboy shows up IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT carrying an exhumed body with dirt still on it like “howdy pard’ner! could i perhaps ask ya to fish this pesky bullet out my buddy here’s noggin?” maybe even addresses him by name to really freak him out since House likely has data on all the Vault 21 residents. and Doc’s in a cold sweat just looking at you, the courier, pale from blood loss with a HOLE in your fucking face. then to the suspiciously chipper old west character Victor projects on his screen and goes “y ... yea? put ‘em on my couch?” operates on you as best he can, probably side-eying the absurd sack of sack of caps the robot leaves him to not  “go gabbin’ all over town about this y’hear :)” reckons he could probably buy Mick’s store or get a train of guards to escort him to vegas for a gambling spree with all that before settling on something tame like just quietly cycling it through the town’s economy over time

then after a what has been according to Mitchell a couple of fucking DAYS, he’s just sitting across your from body still dripping blood on his couch mulling over which neighbor he’s going to ask for help hauling you back up to the graveyard to re-bury you when suddenly you start moving!! and he’s so flabbergasted you even have motor function all he can think to say is

“ ... you’re awake! how bout that >_>”

[withlove-so]

This is kinda a vent from having a bad day at work and I just wanted to write some comfort food, hope someone enjoys it though.

Warning for mention of panic attacks

— — —

Dark clouds wrapped around the sky like a viper, and it showed no signs of releasing its grip any time soon. There wasn’t any rain, but a slight rumbling in the distance forebode what was to come. The soldiers marched onward, seemingly unaffected by the storm that was bound to break any moment now. They held themselves with confidence and strode forward with determination.

But one stood out among the band. He was quite familiar among the soldiers, but foreign to their land. Unused to the poor weather. To the constant blanket over their heads, or the chill that seemed to sink deep into your bones. To the violent cracks of light or the cacophony of noise that followed. Yet he marched on, even with the stone in his stomach that seemed to flip with every flash and bang.

“Caspar, are you alright? You look quite pale. Do you need some water?” The voice caught Caspar off guard as he quickly glanced over. He could tell who it was just from his voice.

“Yes, yea, of course! Heh, why would you think I have a problem Ashe? I’m perfectly fine, I don’t need any water.” He tried to look confident as he said it, but that sharp eyed man seemed to look right into his core. Like his eyes could scan his brain and read exactly what he was thinking.

“Caspar, honestly, if you’re having problems, you don’t have to hide that. If you collapsed while we were marching, that’d be a bigger problem to manage. Are you really sure there’s nothing wrong?” Ashe wore his emotions on his sleeve, just from a glance Caspar could tell he was being genuine. He really did want to say something, say anything to get how he felt across, but his words seemed to die at his lips.

“Caspar, just tell him you’re afraid to storms. Make it easier on all of us.” A yawn followed the statement, which seemed to prick at Caspar’s nerves ever so slightly.

“Linhardt! I, that’s not, Gods! Don’t just go saying things.” Irritation practically pulsates from his body. People always say how thoughtless Caspar was, but have they even HAD a conversation with Linhardt? Honestly, probably not.

“Afraid of storms? That’s... certainly a problem.” Ashe placed his hand on his head, looking out into the distance before turning back, “Word is that we’re heading right toward the worst of it. We can’t make a detour without going through dangerous territory, so this is our best option.” This tied Caspar’s gut into knots, but he tried not to show it.

“That’s not a problem! Linhardt just says things, it’s really not even that bad! Afraid is such a strong word, it’s more like... it’s just not the best possible thing to happen, but everyone thinks like that. There’s nothing to worry about, let’s just keep marching.”

“Well if you’re sure... but please, don’t push yourself too hard.”

—

Gods, why did Caspar even think for a second he could handle this? It was already overwhelming, the rain that had fallen earlier had practically beat them into submission. Now the wind had picked up, whipping them around like toys. The thunder was louder than ever and Caspar could swear his heart stopped every time lightning came down.

He wanted to vomit.

He wanted to turn around, go back and forget about all of this.

He wanted it to stop.

But he kept going.

And it kept getting worse.

“Surely we can’t march in this. M, maybe we should turn back, wait out the storm till it goes away?”

“Caspar, it’s traveling in the direction we came from. If we went back now, we’d just stay stuck until it went away. At this point, it’s better to continue until we’re out of the heart of the storm.” Linhardt was so smart it irritated him.

He was right, obviously he was right.

There was no reason to go back, it wasn’t even that bad. surely he was just being dramatic.

There’s nothing to be afraid of, there’s no reason to go back. Linhardt says so, it makes sense.

There’s no reason to go back.

It’s fine, there’s no reason to go back, we just have to keep going forward and not worry.

Because they weren’t in danger.

Which meant there was no reason to go back.

No reason to go back.

No reason to go back.

Calm down heart, there’s nothing to be afraid of, Why can’t he just calm down?

Why does he have to be the only one?

Why does this have to shake him up so bad?

WHY CAN’T HE JUST ACT LIKE A DAMN SOLDIER?

There was no reason to go back.

His heart rammed and rammed and rammed but nobody heard. Nobody noticed as he adjusted his armor, wishing he could just reach in his chest and keep it still.

He was soaked to the bone and shaking so bad he shouldn’t have even been able to walk, but here he was. Nobody noticed as he tripped and stumbled, and the breath caught in his chest. He couldn’t let it go and HIS HEART IS BEATING SO LOUDLY HE CAN’T HEAR ANYTHING.

He choked but he kept walking, nobody even glanced. Perhaps he was over reacting but his head just wouldn’t quiet down. He couldn’t seem to breathe and Goddess is it getting darker?

Before he’d even opened his mouth he was on the ground. His knees dug into the ground but he felt like he was floating.

He hacked again, trying to free the knot in his chest but nothing. Now people were looking, shouting, they tried to reach but he held out on hand, begging for them to stay away.

It was suffocating.

His throat was so tight and Gods what’s wrong with him? He dug his fingers into the ground, he needed to feel something solid.

He tried to clamp his jaw, to steady his head, his thoughts perhaps, but pain ran red through his thoughts as he crushed his lip.

He felt something drip over his lip, blood? He couldn’t think long enough to worry about it

Someone was rushing over, he tried to shoo them away but he couldn’t even muster that. She tried asking something, and he could hear her but couldn’t respond.

“Caspar! Caspar, look at me, calm down. Caspar, it’s alright, don’t look around, you just look at me.”

It took him a moment to even process she was saying. He couldn’t remember her voice. He just knew it was a woman’s voice.

He tried looking up, but his eyes wandered almost immediately and they shot back down against his will.

He didn’t want to see.

“Caspar, I’m right here. It’s alright, just breathe. In and out. In and out. Just like that, okay?”

She sounded so calming, his whole body shook as he tried to do as she said.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

His heart was still ramming, but his breathing seemed to relax, at least well enough. He tried glancing up again, looking straight forward.

Don’t look around.

He met Annette’s eyes.

They were wide and filled with worry, but she tried to smile past those feelings.

“See, you’re alright. It’s okay, just keep breathing like that. In and out.”

In.

And out.

His grip loosened ever so slightly, and his jaw released the tension he didn’t realize he was holding. He opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. He kept breathing. Now someone else was approaching, worry knitted across their brow.

“Caspar. Are you-”

“Wait hang on! We don’t know how he’ll react to two people, you should probably stay back Linhardt.” Annette held up her hand to block him and he looked cross, but he didn’t argue.

In and out.

He vaguely heard his voice, mumbling something about “Never seeing him like this.”

He looked hurt.

In and out.

The storm continued to rage on, but for a moment, he felt isolated there. Like nothing could hurt him. He placed a shaky foot on the ground, kneeling with one knee still buried in the dirt. He attempted to stand up, faltering just a bit. His hands shook from the effort.

But they had to keep moving.

“Caspar! Stay down, just focus on breathing. Focus on staying calm, don’t stand.” Annette once again given his brain a task.

Just breathe.

It took some time for him to settle down, and it really wasn’t until the storm had begun to pass. It only lasted 30 minutes. In those 30 minutes, less even, he’d been rendered completely helpless. Until the down pour was just a trickle and the thunder was just a distant echo in his head. Only then did he stand, legs still shaky, but capable of holding.

He mumbled out apologies, for worrying everyone and delaying their march. It would surely hinder their attack. The longer they took, the longer the Empire had to prepare. He’d expected scorn, anger, maybe even threats. But as he glanced up, he saw none of that. Just concern. Kindness. Sympathy.

They dismissed his apology, replacing it with their own.

“If we’d noticed, surely we could have helped before... that happened.” His highness chuckled a bit before continuing, “Perhaps you should mention it directly to me though. I’m not as good at spotting things as I used to be.” The eye patch over his eye suddenly seemed glaringly obvious.

Caspar kept his eyes to the ground, but a small smile blossomed from underneath his cracked lips. And as much as it hurt, his smile turned into a wide grin, though his lip still quivered as he spoke, “Thanks. And sorry. Again. I’m feeling... better. I think it’s about time we got to marching.” He stretched, each sore muscle finally relaxing.

“If you’re up to it, I agree. Soldiers! We shall continue on our path! To Enbarr!” A rally of cry’s followed, and despite his uneven heart, he truly felt he was ready. If nothing else, he was sure his body would be ready by the time their trek was over. So he matched forward with confidence in his stride and determination in his grip. He may have been bested by some rain, but there was no way by the Goddess he’d allow the same to be true for the Empire.

He was going to arise victorious, whether they liked it or not.

[youngrevolutionary]

I heard a kind of disturbing theory about your friend Fujiin. Namely that the reason she yells in short sentences is because of damage to her vocal chords, due to being forced to swallow toxic substances---some say drain cleaner, or battery acid, or any number of other things---which burned her throat such that speaking at any kind of audible volume is difficult without actually shouting---also that it's painful to speak long sentences. Confirm/deny? And if not, what's the actual deal?

LITERALLY, ME READING THIS: 

For canon purposes, completely untrue. The localization team really dropped the ball when it came to translating FFVIII for English players-- and Fujin and Raijin's speech patterns were some of the worst out of the bunch. From what I’ve read up on, the speech patterns are more cohesive in the original Japanese script as Fujin speaks primarily in Kanji (and for those who don’t know Kanji, I don’t know it either, but if I recall, Kanji is an embodiment of a greater meaning in a single symbol/letter?) I don’t study Japanese, gomen friends, gomen. 

But yea, that’s the actual, ‘canon’ -- and why she speaks like she does! I actually headcanon that Seifer understands her just fine in her stoic and monosyllabic self. 

Note: Everything under this is headcanon. 

So for headcanons (because this is super fun to explore), I know that a lot of people have taken an adaptation of this localization ‘error’ and have given her damaged vocal cords, either by way of a combat injury or speech impediment both in fanfic and RP. I mean, if Ward is capable of thrashing his vocal cords to the point of rendering him mute for the rest of his life, I suppose that it’s not too far beyond the scope of reason in this game, but I’ll be honest and say that I’ve never heard of her swallowing toxic substances. 

BUT -- If she did swallow something like drain cleaner or acid, my next train of thought is if she was forced to drink it and if so why, or was she trying to end her life? Or cause serious harm to herself? If so, it makes me question why? 

Which could be interesting to explore in writing, but moving from that. 

I have always held a headcanon that Fujin came from Islands that weren’t part of a major continent (Note: for my own headcanons, I use the [Fulcura Archipelago], located on the landmasses near the [Island Closest to Heaven]. Why? Because I love the idea of Fujin coming from a nomadic tribe of traders and chocobo/beast herders (I garner my inspiration for this from the nomadic Mongolian herding families that travel with their herds or if you play FFXIV, consider the Xalean and Raen tribes of the Aura which are heavily influenced by Mongolian culture.) 

There are scattered villages due to the sparse populations of the islands, with established tribes of people who deal and trade among one another. There is also a great festival, the Nadaam, which where every tribe in Fulcura come to participate. 

I have dabbled with the notion that Garden had incentive programs available to parents who would enroll eligible children into Garden during the early years, and so perhaps Fujin’s parents decided that to give her a better life, their youngest, the only daughter out of five sons, was enrolled into Trabia. With a monthly stipend being sent back home, Fujin probably wanted to travel when she got older, and would eventually transfer abroad to Balamb, where she would meet Raijin and Seifer. 

The common tongue? She learned it pretty quickly, and she can speak it, but her accent and difficulty in pronunciation often labels her dimwitted or incapable of articulating as clearly as those speaking natively. Her native tongue is not one of the songbird dialects as some would compare, but more harsh and guttural to an untrained ear. 

And Seifer was the first person to treat her like anybody else. They became fast friends after that but-- these are just headcanons! Not meant to be taken seriously! 

But it kind of makes sense, right? Because of the isolation due to location, even in the real world, English is rarely taught and scarcely spoken in the smaller, Nomadic tribes. For me, a language barrier makes better sense considering how she breaks out into a full speech at the end of the third disc. 

And you can bet she practiced and rehearsed what she was going to say so it sounded perfect and then.... she just went off her mental notes and spoke from the heart. As it should have always been. 

That’s what I believe is the deal with Fujin’s speech. She’s more or less developed her own language and Seifer and Raijin have adapted to it. It also explains a bit why she’s so rough with Raijin (perhaps because she is reminded of her own brothers? Maybe even Seifer a bit as well? What is a homesick Fujin like, I wonder?) 

Note: I also just realized after re-reading this that this also makes way for some devastating angst if you take into consideration that those missiles could have hurt more than just mere Garden students. :’| 

Another note: Thank you so much for asking me this question! I’ve never had the opportunity to actually sit and TALK about Fujin and share some of the stuff I’ve kind of written up for her over the years. I really do appreciate questions like these! I hope you (and anyone reading this) enjoyed it and I look forward to more! ♥

[bladekindeyewear]

Boots Reads Homestuck Epilogue(s) Part 11 - Candy Page 12

==>

Alright, looks like Jake and Jane had an active night and now Jake’s going to distance himself again.

Yeah you’re pretty afraid of closing this distance with Jane.  You REALLY don’t want it, do you?

JANE: Lighten up Jake! The election’s off! The economy is stable! Dirk is probably never going to talk to us ever again! And we just... we finally fucked. Hoo hoo hoo!

Okay seeing that “Hoo hoo hoo!” at the end of the sentence makes it really fucking uncomfortable somehow.

Something catches the corner of his eye, and he swivels his head around to see the Trickster Lollipop on his bedside table.

JANE I THOUGHT YOU WEREN’T GOING TO BE SUCH A SCUMBAG THIS TIME AROUND WHAT DID YOU FUCKING DO????

far more sets of underwear than the number of people accounted for in the room.

Yeah that sounds about like what might happen with the lollipop thrown in.

Okay at least it was Jake’s idea??? that makes it... ALMOST... better... but not really..??

Oh God, and Jake just does the pushover thing and rolls with it only because he thinks he SHOULD, not because he wants to.  Fuck.

==>

Mhmm.  There’s always a thick sense that “what would Bro tell me to do” was thick in everything Dave did hanging over him like a shadow.  Interesting that here it manifests as that Meta voice he was using in Meat or whatever.

Is Dirk even going to be there, or has he fled entirely?

Gamzee, what the fuck are you doing.  Forceful character arc intervention?  Is that what you did with Roxy somehow?

...is Gamzee toying with the narrative now that Dirk has fled or something??

...okay there’s some author worship going on or some such?

Dave how do you even know who Pagliacci is.

Okay there’s the Rose bot, and an ominous note.  Suicide note? Self-Decapitation note, again?  Hm.

==>

Epilogue Three

Okay, that’s some startlingly abrupt pathmaking toward suicide.  I was warned that there was a vivid description of the leadup to suicide in Candy somewhere, so I’ll try to talk only lightly about it as I read.

Your legs feel impressively powerful as you begin to climb the staircase

Nice Meat callback at least.

A flip of the cosmic coin has rendered your entire life completely inessential. What could you accomplish in a dead-end existence like this? There are no stakes. No meaningful challenges. No structures or themes—only residual chemical reactions in a dying brain, a physical system’s obligate compulsion to exhaust its own lingering momentum. A cockroach with its head cut off, waiting to die of thirst.

Wow, yeah, you REALLY can’t stand living in a world where you don’t hold some sort of Light-y relevance, can you?  So much so that you were willing to steal Light away from the story entirely just to have more to carry with you in the flipside.  Is this supposed to sort of embody the comeuppance you didn’t get in the other half, the way you’re offing yourself here?  Weird.

Your friends might derive some sense of fulfillment from satisfying the elementary obligations of self-preservation and self-propagation, but there’s nothing here for you. It doesn’t matter anymore.

HOW ABOUT LIVING HAPPY LIVES AND NOT GETTING STUCK IN COMAS YOU ASSHOLE

Seriously, that whole Meat part, the... the four things I really couldn’t stand being left with were Jane’s fate, Jade’s situation, ROSE’s unenviable situation, and Dirk being allowed to escape without consequence.  Three of my favorite characters left on doomed paths or basically IN COMAS, constantly having their agency quashed by others or forced away from anything that could have corrected their disastrous path (Jane’s) by Dirk’s meddling.  A line being drawn in the sand that clearly stated CANON ENDS HERE, before any of them could wake up or stop FUCKING SUFFERING.  Jesus Christ.  I just wanted some loose ends tied up by this epilogue, I didn’t need the characters’ POSSIBLE HAPPINESS to be left unresolved with a likely “NO” as the answer??!???  THEY DIDN’T COME ALL THIS WAY AND SACRIFICE AND WIN FOR JUST THAT!  DIRK STOLE THE FUCKING ULTIMATE REWARD FROM THEM OUT OF NOWHERE!

*breathes*

FUCK.  So, yeah, on to seeing Dirk either die or get stopped by Dave somehow because he still needs him or whatever.

Ew, self-decapitation indeed.  You narcissistic fuck.

When you think so little of yourself as a moral character, any act of self-termination will result in a death that is Just.

Huh.  So that influences the way the clock judges you, hm?

==>

A damn funeral, huh.

He looks at Roxy, who is staring at the floor, rather beside herself in grief.

Oh thank goodness, a glimpse at her line to Gamz had me thinking she was in weird happy-stuck Candy mode still, that would have fucked this scene a bunch.

...IS Dave really more eloquent than you, though?

Dave’s long speech--

Oh my gosh I just realized during this speech how UTTERLY FUCKED of Andrew people must have thought this Dirk suicide section was if they chose Candy FIRST.  Jesus dick.

End of speech.  Jane, stop being so remarkably fucking composed.  Unless Dirk’s plans and machinations really hurt you as much as you let on when you expressed seemingly-mock excitement that you’d “never hear from him again”.

Fuck you Gamzee.

ROXY: BRAVO!!! DAMN I FEEL LIKE IF I NEVER HEARD ANOTHER WORD THIS GUY EVER SAID THATD BE FINE BECAUSE THAT WAS ALL JUST SO *PERFECT*

Thanks for coming to your senses Roxy, better late than never I guess.

Dave dips down so that their noses are bumping. Karkat’s eyes are so wide it’s amazing they don’t pop out. For a moment, it looks like they’re going to...

John sneezes.

Oh COME ON, John.  :(

JOHN: i have no idea why i did that. now i have this whole memory in my head that i could have definitely lived without.

Me after reading the Meat epilogue.

Huh, offering to undo the death.  That IS potentially a little bit insensitive, as obvious and necessary a question it is to ask, even if the answer is no.

DAVE: dirk was a complicated guy DAVE: dude obviously had reasons for doing what he did DAVE: if you go back and just rewrite his decision DAVE: thats like denying him his personal autonomy

Exactly.

A courtesy that Dirk, funny enough, wouldn’t have given anyone else.  The fucking prick.

--Yep, they’re too far outside of canon for his retcon powers to work anymore.  Rose told him on the last day he could.

Roxy what the hell are you doing.

ROXY: we should get hitched

No, you should ANSWER WHY YOU LEFT CALLIOPE HANGING and THEN decide LIKE ADULTS to do whatever you all feel like doing.  This isn’t legitimate if you’re HIDING most of the situation in Voidy shadow!  If you really DO want this, then do it properly and HONESTLY!!!!

JOHN: you... JOHN: LOVE me?? ROXY: yea john i love you ROXY: wanna marry u and spend the rest of my life with u and pop out a bunch of cute lil buck toothed babies with you JOHN: oh, uh. haha, wow. roxy that’s um. JOHN: that’s a LOT.

Yeah, this isn’t how it should go.  WOULD go.  Something’s seriously wrong with Roxy right now and I hope John figures out how to bring them to the forefront so they can come to an honest decision.

Just a few weeks ago, Roxy was happy with Calliope, and now she wants to have his babies? John feels like he’s missing something important here, like he went for a bathroom break during the part of the movie where the plot twist happens.

Exactly.  And you haven’t even had time to process how you feel about HER again.  If something’s off, make it NOT off before you say yes.

Roxy practically attacks John’s mouth, she’s so excited. John shuts his eyes and kisses her back, still giddy and laughing against her lips. She kisses him until they’re both breathless, then pulls back so that she can gaze at him with glittering eyes.

ROXY: omg ROXY: were gonna be SO freakin happy!

Yyyyeah, THAT was ominous.  Someone’s definitely fucking with this situation behind the scenes.  ...Maybe Roxy’s been hitting the Lollipop too when the camera’s away from her?

==>

Dammit, we skipped to the wedding without resolving ANY of their fucking issues first.  This is bad.

--oh my god we skipped to months PAST the wedding too.

JOHN: jane and jake are kinda, um, together now. TEREZI: OH GOD JOHN: and she basically ordered jake to catch the bouquet “or else.” JOHN: i was seriously afraid for him. and then he didn’t even catch it!

Jane.  Jane, come the fuck on.

Can’t we get ONE TIMELINE where Jane doesn’t end up terrible????  D:

JOHN: yeah. they’re all dating. JOHN: or rather... jade is dating them both. JOHN: dave and karkat haven’t... exactly figured things out yet. JOHN: and as much as i love jade, i don’t actually think she’s helped matters by putting herself in the middle of it. TEREZI: HMM >:[ TEREZI: SOM3HOW TH4T DO3SNT S33M R1GHT JOHN: i know.

Jade, you can’t force these things!!!

Can’t we get ONE TIMELINE where Jade doesn’t end up unhappy???? D:

JOHN: now i have to pretend to laugh and think it’s funny when she makes jokes about being the next to “tie the knot.” TEREZI: WOW D1D SH3 R34LLY GO FOR TH4T DOUBL3 3NT3NDR3 JOHN: what? TEREZI: WH4T JOHN: what do you mean? TEREZI: N3V3R M1ND

Jegus Christ.  Terezi, WHY did you have to go there.  I’ve seen enough nsfw RP to know exactly the fuckery you’re alluding to with Jade, NO.

JOHN: things’ll probably work out with those three anyway. things always work out between old friends. JOHN: we’ve all known each other for too long for anything to cause a permanent rift.

Fucking allusions to the Meat section...  D:

...okay, babies time.  There are babies.  Or at least one Roxy pregnancy and that earlier Vriskgrub.

TEREZI: 1T JUST S33MS... K1ND4 F4ST

YES, YES IT DOES.

TEREZI: 1 4LR34DY H34RD 4BOUT HOW J4N3 1S D4T1NG BOTH J4K3 *4ND* G4MZ33 4ND UNFORTUN4T3LY 1 DO B3L13V3 1T

What the FUCK is going on.  Who’s manipulating everyone.  Gamzee maybe??

TEREZI: H4H4H4 1 HOP3 YOU H4V3NT S33N TH3 P1CTUR3 D4V3 TOOK JOHN: dave has a picture?! JOHN: wait, never mind. i don’t want to know, and i definitely don’t want to see it.

Yeah that’s a cursed image if I ever heard of one

JOHN: so, what did you think, talking to dave and karkat? JOHN: did they seem... happy? TEREZI: NOP3 JOHN: oh my god, i KNOW, right? JOHN: the whole thing is such a mess, it’s hard to be in the same room with them these days. JOHN: i don’t even know the full story because dave won’t talk to me about it anymore, and jade seems to think that everything’s going just fine.

Dammit Jade, you forced your way in too early!!!  D:

And why can’t Andrew at least PRETEND to give us a slight, fishing-line-thin possibility that Jade might POSSIBLY have any sort of chance at an endgame workable romance with ANY OF HER GOSH DARN FRIENDS AT ALL???????

>:(

I just want Jade to be happy okay jegus

TEREZI: 4 TRU3 K1SM3S1S 1S JUST 4S MUCH YOUR L1F3 P4RTN3R 4S YOUR M4T3SPR1T 1S

Interesting quadrant talk

TEREZI: TH3 PO1NT OF 4 K1SM3S1S 1S NOT JUST TO M4K3 YOU 4NNOY3D OR 3V3N 4NGRY TEREZI: TH3Y SHOULD PUSH YOU TO B3TT3R YOURS3LF TEREZI: TH3Y SHOULD SH1N3 4 L1GHT ON TH1NGS 4BOUT YOURS3LF YOU WOULD OTH3RW1S3 1GNOR3 OR D3NY

EXACTLY.  I’ve been saying that about good black relationships for years.  And Jade’s plowing in and fucking things up without really making things ANY better AT ALL for anyone but herself, and only temporarily and in her own head at that.  :(

TEREZI: 1F 1 W3R3 3V3R TO DO BL4CKROM 4G41N, 1T WOULD H4V3 TO B3 LOW K3Y

Yeah, really pushing at what happens in Meat and stuff.

I love Terezi’s text-emote faces.

==>

Page 17... Someone told me to watch out for “Candy 18″ without any elaboration or context, so maybe I’ll split the post after this page so I can get to that one fresh? Hm!

My stomach is down to a low anxious simmer, so that’s good compared to before.  Maybe reading this whole Candy thing isn’t going to be so bad.  I can’t believe I’m not even halfway through.

He’s not sure why he feels the need to hide the fact that he’s talking to her.

Dammit, John.

It should be a beautiful image, but something about it roils John’s gut.

???

Is he catching on to some weird manipulation going on behind the scenes with his own metatextual awareness or?

Yep, Harry Anderson, heh.

He was. What’s bugging him about it is that Roxy didn’t seem to have any suggestions of her own.

YEAH THAT’S A HUGE GODDAMN RED FLAG RIGHT THERE.  WHAT IS HAPPENING TO EVERYONE.

...Oh, huh.  Now John’s having a bit of panic about how everyone suddenly feels like things are completely resolved with Lord English when they aren’t.  And how Rose seems almost HYPNOTIZED into not worrying about it, along with many of the rest of them.

The three gals in the room exchange a series of concerned glances. Do they truly think he’s crazy? Are they hiding something from him? John can feel himself trembling. It’s not possible that he’s remembering this wrong, is it? It can’t be. If he presses his eyes shut, he can still see the lines of the black hole cracking space apart around him. It seemed like such a big deal at the time, and then suddenly it felt like nothing at all. Why?

Are they, though?  Do they know they’re in a split timeline of sorts, or...?

You’re the ones not doing okay, he nearly shouts, but then realizes it’s just going to make him sound crazier than he already looks.

Yeah this is all cracking at the seams.

ROXY: oh of course that makes sense

ROXY YOU’RE NOT THIS BRAINLESS WAKE THE FUCK UP

Hm, looks like John’s not as comfortable on the placid planet as he is with someone giving him SOME sort of broader purpose.  A lot like Dirk, but LESS FUCKED.

JOHN: i’ve got a beautiful wife who loves me, but it’s not enough. i can’t even talk to her about what we’re going to name our stupid kid without it turning into some weird thing where she just goes along with whatever i want. JOHN: even when all i want is for her to want something different than what i want!!!

It’s like Steven stuck in Rose’s Room with that Connie clone, SU-ways.

Alright, clicking the next button and starting page 18 in the next post.

[thechosenferret]

Can you do a DRARRY ballet ficlet?

Sorry this took so long, life kinda gets in the way sometimes, whoops. Anyways, here you go boo

“Harry, Draco, can both of you come here for a second?” called Madam Rosemary from where she was previously talking with another dancer, trying to prepare for the show that night.

“So, I’m sure you have realized but Harry’s dancing partner, Ginny, is not able to make the ballet tonight.” They nodded. “Well, I was thinking that Draco could replace Ginny tonight in the Pas de Deux.”

There was a silence as they rendered the meaning of those words in their heads. “But- but Madam, I don’t know the dance,” Draco finally replied.

“Nonsense.“ she chuckled, "You’ve helped Ginny practice her moves and you’ve been able to learn the moves before really fast. Now, we have a few hours before people start to arrive, so I suggest you start practicing.”

Realizing they have no time to argue, they grabbed the nearest CD player and raced off to an empty practicing room.

Thank Merlin it was only one song.

_____________

Hermione and Ron took a bow for everyone they gracefully walked off the stage. The lights dimmed as the violinists started to bow slowly again, gaining momentum as other strings joined in, signaling that it was their turn to get onstage.

Harry started to count in his head 1…2…3…1…2…3…over and over again, carefully placing his feet to the slow rhythm. Draco joined beside him on the stage beats later, following along with the steps.

They kept at 55 beats per minute until the flute began to speed up, followed by the rest of the orchestra, cueing their next move, two tour jetés. In unison, they lifted their left leg up before turning around, jumping so that they spin in the air, before falling gracefully to the floor again. Harry got to look out at the audience for a split second to see a little girl in the front row excitedly watching their every moves before turning his attention back to the dance.

They did a few pique turns around the stage before doing a few assemblés towards the middle. This gave him the perfect opportunity to see Draco being lost in the music, making him look like he really one with the music. The music looked like it was flowing through him, making him look extremely peaceful and carefree. It barely even looked like he hardly got any time to practice the dance.

With both of them finally in the center of the stage, they linked arms, allowing Draco to rolled over his back without letting go. Once he touched the floor again, they lifted opposite legs out, letting go of one arm, and leaned closer, Harry’s right arm still linked with Draco’s left arm. The lights started to turn to a bluer color, making Draco’s eyes sparkle even more than usual. The music slowed down to almost a stop, the quiet plucking and bowing adding a feeling of happiness and suspense.

They were supposed to turn away right after that, but both of them seemed like they needed to slightly fix the dance. Like it was meant to be part of the show, the fake snow began to fall as they leaned together and fully closed the distance between them.

When he finally opened his eyes again and got to see Draco red in the face, in the corner of his eyes, he saw Madam Rosemary break out a cheeky smile, before returning to scribble a few things down on her clipboard. Next to her was Hermione and Ron, who were practically about to jump out of their shoes.

Merlin, I hope that little girl doesn’t see.

Contining on like it was nothing, they went through the rest of their dance with no mess ups, if you don’t count the random kiss in the middle of it.

At the end, the music hopped back up to a quicker beat for a second, before slowing back down to a complete stop. They stood there for a few seconds, exhausted from the dance, before Draco nudged Harry, reminding him to bow before they practically flew off the stage.

Draco pulled Harry away from everyone backstage to behind a few crates stacked in the corner, which was especially hard after what they just witnessed.

They just sat there in silence for a few seconds, not knowing what they should do next. At last, Malfoy cleared his throat before nervously asking, "Potter, would you like to maybe… um… hang out sometime.”

“How about after the last song?”

“Ye-yea, that would be great,” he smiled, lacing his fingers together with Harry’s to finally go confront his friends about what just happened.

[hgmb-hgms]

Ultimatum

Maybe this way at least I'll know I'm more than the usual chatter. I never had the ability to string together rhyming words, but papers... stories... ideas... now that's something I have practiced. I'm not sure why the mundane and uninspiring strings of consciousness sat at the forefront of my education formulated pink matter. Songs I don't like. People I don't care about. Mean feelings and directions I remind myself are wrong. Opinions that lesser versions of myself might entertain in manipulation. Perspectives that loop on themselves in forms of narcissism and conceited ego feeding. "I'm proud of you," ya'll say, when what I need to hear is "I'm proud of me." How come nothing of note is channeled until a medium is chosen? If I could, I'd fire the entire perspectives company running my current psyche. Yes, I have complaints for HR. In fact all of you have been doing a terrible job, and it's time I fire the lot of you. Maybe if I make this environment inhospitable, most of you will change, molded in the forge, and stronger due to the harsh obstacles. Are you sure? This is the thought I need? Wow, I'm impressed finally. Good job, you're churning out something I can use. How crazy is it, that it took 35 years? Are you sure? Hm, I'll consider it. Maybe you're right, food is my motivation. I need a soundtrack? Of the songs I hate? You're promoted. But maybe sarcasm is hard to understand... so maybe let's try being more direct. No more thoughts that aren't relevant or productive. My mind is not a ghetto; sex, drugs, and rock'n'roll are for lesser men. I'm surprised that the misinformation and unlearning has gone this long. I'm not sure what I expected - I listen to noise without words because of the let down of unimpressive emotions and desires. Maybe if my educators asked me to focus on rhymes, I'd be a lot more rich. What an Idea that is, perhaps a novel is worth more than a hook. I keep training myself in simplicity, but the atrocious sludge that my bacon and electricity renders edible is starting to crush my desire to be greater. "Doo doo doot doo" is more valuable than "Cogito Ergo Sum," but it's not like anyone I know values the musings of a misfit. I'm not sure it's enough. I enjoy finding myself in the depths of another opinion, but I don't know if it's enough. Math? Yea, I used to be good at that. I think percentages are the most used version of that, besides arithmetic of course. But who's counting? I am. Oh, so that's how this is going. A stream of consciousness, well I'm impressed you made it this far because we realized that you don't really have an overarching theme. We thought you were really onto something that deserved the attention of the keys, but now that we've taken over, maybe you can be proud of the useful perspective. Yes in deed, we are aware of your actions, and I don't think it will lead anywhere. I think it will though, but I don't believe in that anymore.

[aesjae]

Walk You Home | Chen Le

hiatus special scenario this is a special scenario for @markcherrybaksu, as a mini birthday gift :-)

Summary: "Let me walk you home."

Style/ Genre: Scenario/ Fluff maybe

Word Count: 2,569

Date Posted: 17 Oct 2017

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to (Y/N), happy birthday to you~” Your group of friends who were surrounding you chorused harmoniously, a light and cheery mood dancing in the air.

You looked at the cake that your friends had brought in. It was a simple, yet wholeheartedly decorated cake. It was a plain, white frosted round cake, the surface of the cake having been evened out smoothly. On the side of the cake, a strip of elegant lace twirled around the circumference of the confectionary, a mini red ribbon bow holding the two ends of the lace together. In neatly spelt out velvet coloured frosting, the top of the cake read ‘Blessed birthday (Y/N)’. 

You stared at the cake, enamoured of its simplistic beauty. A hand was automatically brought up to cover your gaping mouth, your friends’ sincere efforts rendering you speechless as gratefulness spilt over the walls of your heart. 

“I-I... This is wonderful guys... I can’t express how I feel right now. Thank you all so much.”

You glanced around at your circle of friends, only to be greeted by their wide grins. 

These friends were all from your tuition class. Since most of them did not attend the same school as you did, you were never really that close to any of them. Hence, you never thought that they would know your birthday, what more plan a birthday celebration for you. Throughout the whole 2 hours of tuition lesson, your tuition mates were all nonchalant to and did not show any signs to the significance of the date. When a group of them abruptly suggested to hang out at the new cafe nearby after lessons, you didn’t think much about it and just went along with the plans. 

“Hehe, I hope you enjoyed your surprise,” Yoon Hye who was standing beside me giggled. You looked at my best friend. You were lucky that your best friend was in the same tuition class as you were, as when you first started attending the tuition class, it was not as awkward for you to blend in since Yoon Hye was practically a social butterfly. Wherever she went, you followed. Gradually, you managed to become friends or at least good acquaintances with everyone in our tuition class.

“Did you suggest this?” Your voice thinned with playful accusation, you frowned and pursed your lips in sceptic.

“Oh, well, it wasn’t me actually,” Yoon Hye said with an enormous grin on her face. What’s with that expression? “It was Chen Le who suggested this surprise.” 

Chen Le?

Suddenly, the significance behind Yoon Hye’s huge smile struck you. Being your best friend in school and in tuition class, Yoon Hye was well aware that you had a tiny crush on Zhong Chen Le, who was initially only your tuition mate before he unexpectedly transferred into your school this year. 

Your eyes skimmed across your circle of friends.

Jeno... Jaemin... Taehee... Mark... Daehwi... Minjae... And lastly, Chen Le.

Your eyes locked with Chen Le’s, and you witnessed Chen Le rub the nape of his neck, clearly embarrassed after Yoon Hye’s revelation. 

“Yeah, Chen Le suggested this about a week ago, that was how most of us got to know your birthday.” Jaemin perked.

“Haha... Erm, yeah, I did. I hope you enjoyed what we planned for you.” Chen Le glanced up at you, an awkward chuckle escaping his lips.

You felt the tips of your cheeks warming up and you unconsciously fiddled with the ends of your fingers under the table.

“Yes, I really liked this. Thank you, Chen Le. Thank you, everyone.”

Everybody gleamed brightly, satisfied with their successful birthday plan. But amongst everybody’s glistening smiles, only the Chinese boy’s shimmered with the most vibrant glow.

“Goodbye, guys, and happy birthday once again (Y/N)!” Daehwi exclaimed, his arms waving frantically at the rest of us as he ran for his coming bus. 

“My parents are here too! Bye guys, see you next week!” Taehee waved a simple goodbye before she crossed the street. Soon, one by one, your tuition mates went their separate ways, and only Yoon Hye, you and Chen Le were left.

“Oh shit! (Y/N), I hate to break this to you but, I forgot that my family is receiving guests today at our house. I can’t go for a movie with you,” Yoon Hye turned towards you abruptly, holding the sides of both of your arms as her face displayed an apologetic expression.

“Aish, you’re so forgetful, but it’s fine! I know how your mum is always cranky about being punctual when your family is receiving guests. We can always watch the movie another time.” You smiled amiably at your best friend.

“Oh my gosh, thank you (Y/N)! I love you so much,” Yoon Hye hugged you tightly before she realised that Chen Le was looking at both of you with a semi-amused expression on his face. Yoon Hye pulled back and her eyes diverted between you and Chen Le. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow in school then (Y/N), you too, Chen Le!” 

“Yep, see you Yoon Hye.” Chen Le replied.

“Text me later,” Yoon Hye leaned in and whispered into your ear, taking off and running into the direction of her street almost instantly afterwards.

You looked distantly at your best friend’s silhouette, shaking your head in teasing disapproval. Suddenly, you remembered about Chen Le’s presence, and you immediately stopped, turning your body ever so slightly to glance at the boy beside you. Chen Le noticed your actions and looked back at you, his eyebrows lifted in a questioning manner.

“A-Aren’t you going home too, Chen Le?” Your voice sounded soft and timid but with the tranquil silence surrounding both of you, your voice was audible enough for the boy standing a metre away from you to hear.

The Chinese boy paused for a while, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Mmhm, yea, I am. Where do you live, (Y/N)?”

You were taken aback.

“Erm, not far from here. Just about a few blocks down, merely a walking distance away. Why do you ask?”

“I see.”

As the evening approached as the sky dimmed ever so slightly, the boy’s dark brown orbs sparkled under the streetlamps that had just been switched on.

“Let me walk you home.”

You choked. With your saliva threatening to enter your windpipe and block all access of oxygen into your body, your body bent forward as you coughed heavily. Almost instantly, you felt a pair of warm hands rested on your skin. One was gripping around your forearm, supporting you, and the other was patting lightly onto your back.

“You okay there?” Chen Le asked, his voice laced with concern when you lifted your upper body back up.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I almost thought you said you wanted to walk me home and I got choked up. Embarrassing, really.” You casually waved off Chen Le’s expression of concern, feeling ridiculous for even hallucinating Chen Le saying something like that.

“I did.” 

You looked at Chen Le, confused. “Sorry?”

Chen Le’s face now held a mixture of determination and slight traces of anxiousness. 

“I did say that. I want to walk you home.”

This time, you knew you didn’t hear wrongly, but with the loud sound of your heart beating against your ribcage and the strong pulsating movements of blood flowing into your ears, you couldn’t help but doubt yourself again.

Instead, you stared at Chen Le with wide eyes, but Chen Le’s expression did not alter a bit, and suddenly you found yourself thrown into the truth of reality: Chen Le offered to walk you home.

For the first two minutes, an awkward silence hung between Chen Le and you. Who would have thought that one day you would be standing beside your crush, walking side by side, and being walked home by the glory himself? Well, definitely not you that is. Those 2 minutes was not a long time, but with raging waves crashing the walls of your internals, and the systematic ticking of Chen Le’s watch, you couldn’t help but feel nervousness creep further up your spine by the seconds. Out of anxiety, your legs willed you to unconsciously pick up your pace.

All of a sudden, you felt a gentle tug pulling you back.

Surprised, you turned back to look at Chen Le, who has slight disappointment written on his face. You looked down at your right hand, which was being held back by Chen Le’s left. 

“Don’t walk so fast, I want to spend more time together with you.” Chen Le murmured, just audible enough for you to hear. You glanced back up at Chen Le; his head slightly bowed, eyes tracing along your held hands. You processed the boy’s timid words, feeling your cheeks warm up again. You didn’t know how to respond. However, looking at the Chinese boy in front you being bold of his actions, yet being shy to express them openly, you couldn’t help but feel your heart melt. Instead, you quietly backtracked your steps, standing beside Chen Le once again. Chen Le looked up at your face for a few seconds, eyes slightly wider than usual, and then he smiled warmly, showing his straight white teeth. You couldn’t help but grin back at him.

Walking side by side, you were suddenly aware of the warmness your right hand was feeling. Only realising that your hand was still in Chen Le’s, you stiffened. 

“U-Uh, Chen Le?”

“Hmm?” Chen Le hummed, bliss lingering in his tune.

“You’re still holding my hand..”

Chen Le turned to you, his eyes wavering slightly like a puppy’s.

“You don’t like me holding your hand?”

“hUh wHaT nO nO i didn’t mean to imply that- I- Uh-” You fumbled over your words, them spilling out almost incoherently as you flustered. 

“Heh, it’s fine. I get it,” Chen Le turned back to the walkway ahead, only this time, the smile on his face was brighter and ever more radiant than before. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, I like that.”

You dipped your head down in embarrassment, but a shy grin couldn’t help but waltz its way onto your face. 

Feeling a gentle and assuring squeeze on your hand, you squeezed back, hoping to deliver the same amount of comfort, happiness and warmth through your intertwined hands.

“And Yoon Hye was so dumb and clumsy, she tripped and fell into the arms of the young teacher she eye-candied!” You exclaimed, your facial features lighting up in amusement as you recounted the hilarious incident from 2 years back. 

Chen Le’s cheerful laughter resonated across the quiet street, it gradually diminishing down into a low chuckle. “Yoon Hye did that? I can’t imagine what happened afterwards.” 

“Well, I can’t remember what exactly happened after, but I can tell you, those are the kind of moments when I confirm that this girl is definitely my best friend.”

Other than a few families and couples walking along the narrow street, it was almost deserted. Despite your house only being a 15-minutes walk away, the lively interaction between Chen Le and you made the prospect of going back home suddenly a dull and dreaded one, and Chen Le and you easily took your time to literally take it ‘one step at a time’. Both of you had such amazing chemistry, you wondered how Chen Le and you had barely talked to school or in tuition class, but you were absolutely thanked the Gods for giving you this opportunity to now. Along the way, both of you talked about various topics, discussing and joking about everything from A to Z, and the atmosphere that danced around the both of you was one that was very relaxed and not a single bit awkward at all. With every word and sentence exchanged, and every glance of Chen Le’s twinkling eyes and vibrant smile, you felt your heart grow fonder, and you had never felt so at ease and comfortable around someone. Even with Yoon Hye, you had some walls of insecurities up, but with Chen Le, it was as if he effortlessly broke your walls down, providing you with his 4 walls that felt like ‘Home’.

Almost like an unspoken agreement, both Chen Le and you strolled towards the park that was just around the corner of your house. Walking into the direction of the deserted playground, both of you sat on individual swings, your handholding link finally being broken apart. You tilted your head up to the sky, admiring the sky that was now azure, feeling yourself being intoxicated with the beauty of the stars shimmering in the night sky. 

“Gorgeous, right?” You heard a voice emitted from your side. Without moving your head and your line of vision never straying away from the beautiful scenery above you, you replied, “Yeah, it’s simply dazzling.” The sky was a film of its own, providing different sights, different colours, different hues, different emotions at every second. The sky is always ever changing, and you felt that people do not seem to appreciate the sky enough. The way the stars bedazzled was a kind of luminosity that anyone would envy.

“I really like you.” 

Instead of snapping your head at the comment, your mind savoured the words, relishing in the abruptness and straightforwardness of them. Slowly, you faced the boy that was now closer towards your swing, his upper body leaning against his thighs on his forearms. You gazed into the eyes of the boy once again, this time actually realising how brilliant his eyes were. You thought: the world had one more thing to be envious of.

You gave a soft, tender smile, whispering your heartfelt words breathily, letting the wind deliver the light and airy words to the boy’s ears.

“I really like you too.”

Finally arriving at the front of your house, you turned to face Chen Le for the last time that day. Disappointment and dread clouded both of your eyes, and by the way both of you held onto each other’s hands so tenderly yet so firmly, it was evident that neither of you wanted to leave. 

Finally, you breathed, “Thank you for walking me home Chen Le. It was short, but I sincerely enjoyed every second with you.” 

A soft smile tugged at the ends of his lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t manage to get you a birthday present in the end, I had something on last minute.”

“Don’t worry about it. You sending me home today was more than enough.” It was sufficient for you -- Chen Le walking you home that day -- for you felt the sincerity behind his actions.

Both of you just stood there silently for a few minutes, as if waiting for either one of you to say your goodbyes, even though both of you knew neither of you wanted to.

Chen Le took a step forward closer to you. As if on instinct, your eyes fluttered shut as you felt a pair of lips pressed softly along your hairline. It was a gentle peck, but such a small force triggered tsunamis in your heart. 

“Goodnight, (Y/N). See you tomorrow.” One last glance.

“Goodnight Chen Le, get home safe.” You turned around, finally taking light steps into your house, the familiarity of the place enveloping you in an assuring embrace.

It was a birthday you would never forget.