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rhetoricalrogue · 4 years ago

Note

Zoe/Mason and #21

Thanks for the ask! This was in regards to my 2020 Spotify Unwrapped. #20 was Lord Huron’s Fool for Love.

Well I’m not afraid to fight Let’s step outside and I’ll show you why

Mason frowned when he saw that Zoe’s office was empty. It was well past her time to be off the clock, and the fact that she hadn’t left was troublesome.

Not that he was waiting for her or anything.

He didn’t bother flicking on her light, his eyes looking at the oversized desk calendar. Ah. He remembered her talking about the self-defense class that she and Tina were hosting, but he hadn’t caught what day she was going to be doing the clinic on. Grabbing her pen, he crossed the date out, seeing that it was Zoe’s habit to do it for all the other previous days of the month and she had missed doing it with that calendar square.

Not like he was concerned it may throw her off in the morning. It was just his way of being polite.

The police station had a decently sized gym and Mason leaned against the doorframe to watch the last bits of the class. He had to admit, he didn’t expect Tina to be so capable in breaking holds or throwing her attacker into the mats. She had good form and was a decent opponent. You know, for a human.

Then again, it didn’t take much when your opponent was a scrawny string bean of a teenager, constantly blowing his hair out of his eyes. Mason sneered. If there had been anyone nearby, he would have bet that Douglas had volunteered for the class purely so he could touch Zoe, even if said touching was her slamming her knee into his solar plexus.

He winced. Mason could tell that Zoe was pulling her punches, but he’d been on the receiving end of that hit - he’d felt generous their last sparring session and slowed down enough for her to connect her punches. She hit fast and she hit hard, much to his approval - and he knew that even without her full power that Douglas was going to feel that one in the morning.

He waited until the class had been concluded before approaching.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he drawled, watching as Zoe started snapping folding chairs together and handing them over to Douglas, who stacked them up alongside the wall.

She grinned. “You remembered.”

He scoffed as he moved to help her pick up chairs, quietly smirking when Douglas turned and jogged over to them, body language all but screaming that he didn’t like the fact that Mason had shown up. “Of course, sweetheart,” he drawled.

She raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh. You went into my office and saw my calendar, didn’t you?”

Mason decided not to answer that one. “Nice class you put on, I caught the last fifteen minutes. Covered a lot of ground, though I highly doubt that anyone’ll have to put that knowledge to use any time soon in this town.”

She shrugged. “It’s still good information to have on hand. You never know when some stranger will show up and crowd you in an alley.”

He sidled up to her, hovering close enough to feel the heat of her body radiate towards him. She’d put on a plain t-shirt and yoga pants for the demonstration and his hands itched to rove over dips and curves he’d all but memorized. “That an invitation for something, Sweetheart?”

“Yeah, if you want to get your ass kicked.”

Mason’s head whipped over to where Douglas was sullenly grabbing chairs and hauling them over to the wall. “What was that, kid?”

“Mason -”

He ignored Zoe’s warning and crossed his arms over his chest. “Couldn’t quite hear you.”

The tips of Douglas’ ears turned pink. “It’s just that she’s been showing off her moves all night. She’d eat you alive if you tried anything in an alley with her.”

“That’s…” Zoe took a breath to try to gather her composure and try not to laugh out loud while shooting Mason a look that said don’t you dare make an innuendo. “Thank you, Douglas, for the vote of confidence.”

Douglas smiled and gave her such a look of blind devotion that Mason found his hackles rising. “You’re an excellent teacher, Zo,” he said dreamily.

There was a thread of irritation in Mason’s voice that he couldn’t quite get out. “She really is, kid. And since you’ve been tossed around all evening, I bet you picked everything up right quick.”

Douglas squared his shoulders and puffed his narrow chest out. “I sure did,” he said, looking Mason in the eye. Mason had to give him credit for not immediately backing down. Then again, he hadn’t given him a proper intimidating look backed with a burst of pheremones to make the boy unnerved. “In fact, I could probably teach you a thing or two.”

The harsh bark of laughter couldn’t be stopped, but then again, he also heard the indelicate snort Zoe gave. “Kiddo, if you really think you could take me on, you’ve got -”

“It’s Officer Friedman,” he said, coming out of his perpetual slouch in order to stand up to his full height. Granted, he was still several inches shorter than Mason, but the defiant look in his eye earned him the tiniest of nods of respect. “And yes, I know I can take you on.”

Zoe stood in between them. “Okay, I don’t think that’s the best of ideas. It’s late, we should all be getting home.”

“No, no, I want to see how this goes.”

Zoe looked over Mason’s shoulder to glare at Tina. “Really?”

Tina grinned. “Honestly, I want to see just how many seconds it takes for Douglas to hit the dirt.”

Zoe reached out and grabbed Mason’s arm. “Can I speak with you privately?” she asked, not waiting for a response as she started dragging him towards the other side of the gym. “What is going on?”

He shrugged. “Kid’s feeling his boundaries and wanting to pick fights.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And you’re encouraging him.”

“Sometimes people need to know how far to test things and when the things they’re testing start to bite back.” He tossed a look over to the teenager, who had gone back to helping Tina clean up the remaining chairs. “Unless you want him to continue mooning over you.”

Zoe stood up straighter. “You’re jealous.”

“Can’t get jealous of someone who doesn’t have a chance, now can I?” The statement was said calmly enough, but he tapped out a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth irritably.

She yanked it from his lips and shook her head. “No smoking in police buildings.”

“Whatcha gonna do with that then?”

“Maybe I’ll give it back to you if you ask me nicely.” Her smile faltered. “Look, he’s a kid that’s thirteen years younger than me. Whatever little crush he has on me is just that, a crush. We all had them at that age and for the most part, we all got over them. It isn’t going to do anyone any good if the guy that he sees as some weird competition sends him to the hospital.”

Mason rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh that would have impressed Nate, had he been there. “Fine, I won’t hurt the kid.” He sneered. “Even if it would get him to stop dressing like a knockoff version of me.”

“Face it, you’re just jealous of his fancy new boots.”

He scoffed at her calling him jealous for a second time that evening. “Whatever. I have boots older and better than his.” His grin widened as he reached out to palm her hip, his arm pulling her closer to him. “That’s not the only thing that’s older and better either, Sweetheart.”

Zoe leaned in and pressed a kiss to his chin. “Careful, Sunshine. He’s going to wind up landing a lucky hit on that enormous ego of yours.”

Mason rolled his eyes and smirked. “I’m letting him get one good hit in, only so he feels like he’s doing okay.”

Zoe reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, her nails scratching against his scalp in a way that had him letting out what could only be described as a satisfied sigh, his hand sliding down to cup her backside and bring her in until she was all but riding his thigh. “Be careful with my officer, Mason. I’m going to need him to be well enough to start doing patrols.”

“You two gonna make out in the corner or is Douglas going to have to go in there and break you up?” Tina teased, cupping her hands around her mouth to be heard across the station’s gym floor.

“I didn’t know that was an option,” Mason retorted, giving Zoe a quick kiss and a parting nip to her bottom lip before moving away, his mouth teased up into a knowing grin as he caught the barely inaudible whine she let out at the lack of contact. “Don’t worry, Sweetheart. I’ll deal with this and then maybe we can go back to your place for a little wrestling match of our own.”

“Just…” she sighed. “Dial it down a notch or a million, will you?”

Mason shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll go puny human level, don’t get your panties bunched up.” Pushing the sleeves of his henley up his forearms, Mason lazily sized Douglas up, watching as he got into a fighting stance. “Well? You gonna throw a punch or are we standing here all night?”

Douglas narrowed his eyes and struck out, the blow easily dodged. “Not a bad start, let’s see if one of these actually connects.”

“Five bucks says your boy toy knocks him on his ass in less than five minutes,” Tina whispered.

“Not taking that bet. We both know how this is going to go.”

“Yeah, with you leaving me to tend to Douglas’s bruised ego while you go and get freaky with that tall drink of oh shit, he got a hit!” Tina bounced on the balls of her feet as Mason reached up to dab at his mouth with the back of his hand, the smallest dab of red streaking across his knuckle.

“Not bad at all. You’ve got some potential.” Zoe was positive that there was a tiny spark of respect in Mason’s voice before he struck out with a speedy one-two combination, hitting Douglas in the chest and stomach with enough force to knock him to his knees.

“You know,” Douglas wheezed, slowly getting back to his feet. “You don’t hit that bad either.”

Mason narrowed his eyes. “You’re a persistent one, I’ll give you that,” he told him, dodging another punch. Somewhere along the line, a demonstration of what Douglas had learned had boiled down to what looked like a plain fistfight, a haymaker that would have connected on anyone else going wild as Mason zipped out of the way. He was still using enough speed and force behind his punches that didn’t raise any eyebrows, and Zoe had to roll her eyes at the fact that he even made sure to pant every now and again so it looked as if he was running out of breath.

She knew better. He was a shitty actor, even if no one else but her could pick up on it.

Their impromptu fight ended abruptly when Mason’s fist connected with Douglas’s jaw, sending him sprawling onto the mats. “You okay, kid?” Mason asked, flexing his fingers as Tina and Zoe ran towards them.

Douglas sat up with Tina’s help. “I think you broke my jaw.”

Mason shook his head. “Nah. Trust me, you’d know if it was broken. Put some ice on it when you get home.” He turned to look at Zoe. “We done here, Sweetheart?”

“Everything okay, Douglas?” she asked instead, holding out a hand to help him to his feet.

“Yeah, Zoe. It’s all good.” She inwardly winced at the sad expression on his face, but also hoped that it would mean the beginning of the end to his fixation with her.

“Come on, Champ,” Tina said, patting him on his back. “We’ll make a pit stop to the break room for a bag of ice and then I’ll take you out for some ice cream.”

Mason waited until they were alone. “You’re pissed.”

Zoe turned back to face him. “What makes you say that?”

“I bruised your officer.”

She shook her head. “You could have done worse, but you didn’t.” She pulled out the cigarette from her pant pocket and handed it to him.

“I didn’t even ask nicely.” Still, Mason shook his head. “Keep it.”

She watched his eyes darken as she shrugged her arms into his jacket, the garment too big on her. “Maybe I’m feeling generous,” she said, digging into his jacket pockets until she found his slightly crumpled carton of cigarettes and replaced it inside. Turning on her heel, she made her way towards the gym’s doors and flicked off the light. “You coming or am I walking home alone?”

There was a whoosh of air and Zoe let out a grunt as her back gently hit the wall next to the light switch. “I seem to remember me talking about having our own little wrestling match,” he said, tightening his fingers in her hair, his palm cushioning the back of her head from hitting the wall when he crowded her.

“I don’t remember agreeing,” she purred, sliding her fingers up and under the hem of his shirt, feeling the muscles of his stomach contract at the contact. “Though maybe if you ask -”

He kissed her then, just like he’d wanted to all damn day, his mouth moving over hers and tongue dipping into her mouth to taste her. “Please,” he murmured, lips trailing downwards over her throat as he wedged his thigh between her legs. “Pretty fucking please.”

It took all his willpower not to shove her pants down her hips and have her there against the gym wall as she whimpered a shaky yes when his fangs skated across her skin, but he did muffle a groan into her shoulder as he let her grind against his thigh before grabbing her hips and smothering a pleased cry with his mouth. “Keep that up, Sweetheart, and we’re not going to make it back to your place any time soon.”

“Promises, promises, Sunshine,” she replied, nipping at his lips until he melted against her, forearm braced against the wall and his other hand wandering to cup her backside and yank her closer to him. Giving him one last kiss, she ducked under his arm, grabbing her bag and slinging it across her body before heading out of the gym and into the night.

Mason quickly shut the door behind them, letting his long legs catch him up to Zoe, who hadn’t gotten quite to the edge of the parking lot yet. He shoved the sleeves of his shirt down to his wrists and rubbed his hands down his arms before casually resting an arm over Zoe’s shoulder.

“You want your jacket back?” she asked, wrapping her arm around his waist as they walked.

“Eventually.” He sighed as the warmth from her body soaked into his side. “Besides, it’s just going to wind up on your bedroom floor in a few minutes.” Her scent was also going to linger in the lining for days, making him reluctant to light up a cigarette and have the smoke drown it out.

Not that he’d tell her that or anything.

Zoe grinned at his smile. “Promises, promises,” she repeated, moving closer to him until she was all but glued to his side.

Mason’s smile widened into a full-blown leer. “And you should know by now that I’m good with keeping my word.”

“I’m not arguing with you there.” She stopped them under a streetlight and teasingly nipped at his jawline. “Just looking forward to when you make good on them.”

Mason quickly looked around the empty streets, ears straining to hear anything over the tempting sound of Zoe’s heart. Making a calculated move, he reached down and grabbed her, slinging her over his shoulder as he moved away from the light and zipped down the dark parts of the street in a blur until they were close to her apartment. He would have rushed them into her complex properly, but he knew that there was that nosy neighbor on the second floor who always seemed to be looking out their window when he showed up and he didn’t want to risk anyone witnessing a display of supernatural speed.

“Don’t worry,” he drawled as she unlocked her front door. “I’ll make damn good on them.”

#pairing: kerosene and open flame #zoe dawson #my writing #alittlestarling

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keepswingin · 4 years ago

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zoey and wanda friendship, we are fire by saint raymond

it's just illusions in my head

The truck sputters if you shift it into third gear, but second isn’t fast enough for Zoey, who shifts clumsily into third gear after the road splits into three lines. Wanda listens half-heartedly as the truck rejects the motion, sputtering and stuttering and backfiring, as it always does, and Zoey waits and pushes the gas pedal further into the floor.

The engine groans, and the entire frame shudders, shaking Wanda from leaning against the window.

She glances over at Zoey, not at all amused. She wasn’t losing this hunk of crap because Zoey wanted to push it too far, and why she was even attempting in the first place was beyond her. They were lucky they were even able to steal it in the first place. As long as it moved when it was filled up with some sort of gas, well, that was good enough for Wanda.

“Cut it back,” she tells her, Zoey’s eyes meeting hers for barely a second before moving back to the stretch of highway beckoning them forward.

“Not yet,” she deflects, her fingers tight around the gearstick. “I want to see if it’ll go if I just leave it-”

“No, Zoe, come on. Go back to second. I’d rather not have to walk through Ohio.”

As if agreeing with the werewolf’s words, the engine rumbles, sending another jolt shaking through the interior. Zoey waits another second, her brows pinched together, and then sighs and cuts back, shifting the truck into second gear.

Wanda settles back against the tattered cloth of the seat, watching the treeline pass by in a flurry of greens and browns.

She’s glad for the fall weather, which was easier for them in terms of gas, saving food and making ground, but the new chill at night meant they would have to grab new clothes soon, and soon after would come winter, which was a different monster entirely. She’s already worrying about things out of her control, and she needs to stop it and focus on the things she can control, like what they’re eating for dinner tonight, where they’re sleeping, and what their plans for the rest of the week are.

She decides to take count then, leaning over and reaching around the back of her seat, her dull claws closing around the strap of her backpack. She tugs it over the middle console and into her lap, running a finger over the pins stuck to the front, weathered by the years and the elements.

She remembers when Wyatt gave her the biggest one sitting there, found from a convenience store during one of his patrols with Willa, the words ‘WE BELONG’ decorated by cool colors and artistic lines.

Below that is one with a picture of a mini-werewolf, with cartoonish eyes and a tongue that sticks out - found by Zed while he and Addison were away.

Willa gave her the next one, pink on white with an outlined map of Seabrook on top, and finally, the smallest pin sitting there, from none other than her best friend.

Zoey had given it to Wanda on her seventeenth birthday - a picture of the two of them hugging in the den, photoshopped down to fit on the pin, outlined by purple and green and pink.

“What’s our count?”

Zoey’s soft voice startles Wanda from the memories, and she glances over at her, catching her worried eyes. She had shifted, one arm resting on the wheel, the other leaning on the open window, and her lips are tugged into a frown, like she knows Wanda’s brain is wandering.

Wanda looks back down at the bag in her hands, flipping the top open.

Inside sits four cans of chicken noodle soup, a half-eaten loaf of bread, two full water bottles, a nearly empty box of band-aids, some plastic silverware, a bottle of vitamin gummies Zoey insisted they needed to have, and at the very bottom, still hidden away, Zoey’s snapped Z-Band.

“Fine,” Wanda offers, closing the bag and setting it down at her feet. She needs new shoes, and she knows Zoey needs new socks, and some new pants too.

Zoey shoots her a look. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

The zombie goes quiet, her fingers drumming on the wheel in thought. Wanda watches her, exhaustion already tugging at her eyelids. She wonders if they have enough stolen cash to pay for a night in a motel. Sleeping on an actual bed instead of the skeletons of the truck seats would be amazing.

She reaches into her pocket, tugging the mangled bills free so that she can count. She’s halfway through counting before Zoey finds the words she’s looking for.

“You were looking at your pins,” she says, so quiet that Wanda has to strain her ears to hear her over the wind that whistles through her open window. “Whenever you look at your pins, that usually means you’re thinking of-”

Fire. Fangs.

A gunshot.

A final whimper.

Wanda’s tongue feels like lead in her mouth. “I’m not.” She says, though the words feel clunky and seem to get stuck in-between her teeth. “I haven’t thought about any of that since...”

She trails off, things she never wants to see again flashing through her vision. Her stomach churns. The bills feel too sharp in her calloused hands.

“You had a nightmare two nights ago,” her best friend reminds wearily but her words are weak, and Wanda’s surprised she’s even able to spit them out.

“We both have nightmares, Zoe. That doesn’t mean anything.”

They both go silent, listening to the unsteady hum of the truck’s engine for a while. Wanda finishes counting the bills - three hundred and twenty-seven dollars. The highway turns wider, and then skinnier, from freshly done asphalt to cracked pavement. Their truck goes from being the only car on the highway to one surrounded by too many, and Zoey pulls off to the side of the road when the traffic thickens.

Even now, years later, they still can’t help but feel wary around too many people. Around so many humans. She turns the key, and the engine grinds to a stop. The cabin is eerily silent now.

Wanda thinks she hates the silence.

(Her brother hated silence too.)

“How much longer are we going to do this?” Wanda looks over, something heavy weighing on her chest.

“What do you mean?”

Zoey meets her eyes. “You know exactly what I mean. How much longer are we going to do this? How much longer are we going to run from our nightmares, our memories, the genocide of our people?”

Fire. Fangs. Screams.

Wyatt shoving her away, yelling.

Pup! Go! Get out of here!

Willa, blood streaked down her cheek from a gash that cut into her eye, violent and red. Her claws digging into Wanda’s arm as she had picked her up and thrown her further, rougher than Wyatt ever could be.

Go! Leave!

Wanda swallows, her fingers reaching down to grasp at the seat. Zoey’s eyes flicker and follow. She can still hear Zed in her head too, can still smell the smoke that had funneled first through the town, and then through the house.

“What else are we supposed to do?” Wanda responds, sounding hollow.

“Settle down somewhere? Try to live without fear?”

The laugh that breaks from Wanda’s lips is dry, and she blinks back the tears that follow. Zoey goes quiet. The sun starts to fade below the horizon, casting everything in dark shadows. Wanda sees things that aren’t there. Smells blood. Hears the crack of moonstones and bones.

“Hey,” Zoey whispers, reaching over and sliding her fingers around Wanda’s wrist. “We’re okay. You’re okay.”

“Are we?” Wanda breathes through a gasp, and Zoey nods, moving closer. Wanda shifts so that she can lean her head on Zoey’s shoulder, and she wraps an arm around her, bringing her close.

“We are.”

Wanda squeezes her eyes closed, and holds onto her words until she can repeat them out loud herself.

“We are.”

They stay like that for a while. Zoey waits until Wanda is the first to pull back, and then they agree that they both need the comfort of a motel room tonight. Zoey drives until she spots one and pulls into it, and it’s forty-three dollars for one night, but there’s cable and blankets and...

They’re okay.

Tonight, they’re okay.

#asks #keepswingin writes #mine #so they are like #what in their uhhh #somewhere in their 20s for this story #it's late i didn't feel like breaking down their official ages lol #anyways look at me go fluff and angst all in one night! XD

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maybe-i-should-try-harder · 1 year ago

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I got tagged twice !! Hi abyss if you see this you tagged me too anyways to the questions I'm gonna embarrass myself

When did you post your first fanfic?

....so, way back in 2016 when i was like. 9-10.. it was on an old local site named Bookcity that has since been closed but it was VEEERY popular for the fanfiction community in my country. Some of my friends to this day are from there ! Shoutout to Ryan, Star and Dro yall are cool and you knew me when I went by Chica

First character you wrote for?

........okay so it. It. It was a fnaf. Fanfic. And I wrote about Bonnie and Foxy fighting over Chica. (She ended up marrying Freddy LMAOOOOO)

Main character(s) you’re currently writing for?

JEREMIAH HEERE THE ONE AND ONLY

Character(s) you haven’t written for yet but want to write for soon?

Ah jeez... don't think I ever wrote Chloe but I did analyze her.

Fandom(s) you’re currently writing for?

Right now im on my bmc galore but I've always been a deh og

Platonic pairing(s) you currently write for?

Jeremy and all the girls. I love them.

Romantic pairing(s) you currently write for?

...Richjer and Deere 😭 Richie Tozier x Violet (oc) and Pink Guitar (Amy Mayrose my oc X Zoe Murphy)

Top three AO3 tags?

First Kiss, Mutual Pining and I wrote this instead of sleeping

Current Platform?

Ao3! I don't touch anything else sorry

Snippet from current WIP?

ABYSS THIS IS FOR YOU IM ACTUALLY STILL WRITING THIS LMAO IM SORRY FOR BEING A YEAR LATE ITS NOT DONE IM STUPID SLOW

Therefore I'm tagging you even if you did it @theabyssgazesalsointoyou

“Yo, is that fucking Carly Rae Japsen?” A voice asks behind him, a slight lisp can be heard, nearly hidden.

Jake turns around, in slight embarrassment, his eyes slightly wide. A short, muscly guy with a violently vibrant red streak in his beach blonde hair.

“I like her music,” Jake says, smiling a bit. This charming smile always works on everyone.

“That’s fucking lame.” The guy snorts, sporting a muscle top that really shows off his physique, Jake can’t help but appreciate it, he clearly put work into his body, Jake can admit, the guy looks good.

“I like Taylor Swift.” He adds in, grinning wildly as he reveals the cutest tooth gap. (known to man)

Jake’s shoulders untense with relief

“Sup. Rich Goranski, I’m guessing we are roomies? Unless you’re decorating someone else’s room, then that’s kinda weird.” The guy - Rich - says, shrugging offhandedly at the end with a knowing smirk of an unfunny joke.

The more he talks, the more s’s he has to pronounce, and the more Jake realizes.

“Oh my god, You’re a nerd!” Jake laughs with glee, walking over to Rich to hug him real tight.

“And you’re fucking ripped, Jesus!” He exclaims, being squeezed his breath away by Jake.

“You never told me your name.” His eyes focus on the wheelchair behind Jake, though his mouth asks no questions.

“Jake Dillinger,” Jake says through a chuckle, releasing Rich.

“I broke my legs in a freaky accident a year ago. It just makes stuff easier.”

Rich makes an ‘ohhh’ noise and nods, chuckling awkwardly as he backs off Jake.

“Sorry, I gotta ask.

How popular were you in high school?”

“That obvious?”

“You look like a movie.”

“I was the king of high school,” Jake answers sheepishly. “I had an empty house, lots of booze, and a love for sports.”

Rich’s heart hangs on to the empty house statement.

He shrugs. “I tried being popular, found advice online, barely followed through," Rich says, although something hides behind his eyes.

Jake smiles.

"You look plenty cool to me, Broanski."

And Rich bursts into a laugh.

"How were you popular??

Broanski..

Imagine I called you something stupid with your last name.

Like..”- His face scrunches up, thinking. -”..DillingJake

Jakey-ger..'

And then something clicks.

"Jakey D!" And mid-way through Rich's name spiel, Jake started laughing too, holding onto Rich's shoulder for support.

"You're funny, dude."

And Rich just smiles.

Maybe they got lucky with rooms.

❦ ➷ get to know your fellow fanfic writers better ༊ ✧.*

I had fun doing this! ♡

when did you post your first ever fanfic?

January 2017, I think. wow, it’s been 6 years! (no, I’m not giving you my Wattpad username)

first character you wrote for:

Joker. it was during my Wattpad era. I have zero regret, but I’m not giving the link lol

main character(s) you’re currently writing for:

Daniel Harrow & Henry Creel (as in separate fics that aren’t crossover, but wouldn’t it be nice if I wrote a crossover with these two…)

character(s) you haven’t written about before but plan on writing about soon:

Henry Morgan (from Forever tv) !! also, I’d love to write more about Captain Jack Sparrow

fandom(s) you’re currently writing for:

Harrow & Stranger Things

platonic pairing(s) you currently write for:

Daniel Harrow & Simon Van Reyk (Harrow), Henry Creel & Eleven (Stranger Things)

romantic pairing(s) you currently write for:

I know it’s been more than a year since my last update so I can’t say currently, but Loki/Mobius. other than that the more recent one is Will Byers/Mike Wheeler but even then, it’s still rare. so I guess I focus more on writing platonic relationships lately (honestly it just depends on the characters whom my hyperfixation is on and whether their relationship with the other characters is romantic or platonic.)

your top 3 tags on AO3 (if you post your works on AO3):

whump, hurt/comfort & angst

your current platform where you post your works:

tap HERE for my AO3

snippet of the wip you’re currently working on:

should be posted hopefully within the next few days!

But Harrow forced a smile as he greeted Simon with a hug. And when he hugged Simon, his smile became real. And for a moment Harrow could forget the guilt and the shame he carried with him. For a moment, he could really breathe, knowing that Simon was safe. In his arms.

* aka a fix-it fic where Simon lives.

🏷️ no pressure tags at random: @foodiewithdahoodie @queereldritch @bebataylor84 @ohfallingdisco @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @sillylittlerock @jcbbby @maladaptive-jcb @highwarlockofphilly @can-of-pringles @mirilyawrites @chaos-monkeyy @harringroveera @medium-rare-bimbo @deliaqbower @ripcreel @rins-love-wins @okilokiwithpurpose @lokisgoodgirl @loki-is-my-kink-awakening @daddiesdrarryy @loki-hargreeves @zodiyack @cha-melodius @insert-witty-user-name-here @dewdropreader @blackbirdofasgard @mimisempai @underwhelmingalchemist @excusemefangirlhere @abitofboth @worstloki @littlekinng @andiwriteordie @cluelessbees @suzieburself @waroftheposes @drop-of-infinity @bookinit02 @bizarrelittlemew @ghostalservice @pilkingtonian @thefatedthoughtofyou @brbsoulnomming @spooky-brakers @cosmicanamnesis @cranberrymoons @onirislanding @thefreakandthehair @thisapplepielife — if I didn’t tag you and you’d like to join, please do! everybody is welcome

#talking to the moon #bmc #richjake

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pickalilywrites · 6 years ago

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for @lenacker and @rivetraaa for coming up w/ a lovely idea and allowing me to write it for them xxx and as always thanks to @clio-moria for coming up w/ the concept of zeketra for all of us to enjoy xxxxx

a continuation of this au

An Unpopular Guy

Levi Ackerman. Zeke Jaeger. Rivetra.

Shoujo Manga AU.

2250 words.

Buy me a ko-fi!

To be honest, Zeke cannot say when exactly his rivalry with Levi Ackerman started. In fact, he is not sure that it can be called a rivalry, as the other party is either unaware of the rivalry entirely or too unbothered to even acknowledge it. If anything, it is more accurate to say that his relationship with Levi Ackerman is a one-sided rivalry that had formed without Zeke’s knowing until it was too late.

Zeke is not a competitive person by nature. He has never felt the need to be, instead excelling in all of his classes as expected of him by his parents. For most of his academic career, he had found himself at the top of his class, although he can’t quite say that he studied particularly hard to be in that position. Then again, it wasn’t as if classes in elementary and junior high were particularly challenging. It was only when he entered high school that he had begun to study a little more rigorously, but even then he didn’t find it difficult to climb the ranks at school. If he had ever come second in his classes, it was only because of Hanji Zoe, a classmate of his that had professed their interest in studying at Kyoto University and becoming a world-renowned scientist. He could understand losing to someone with such ambition and drive. That was exactly why he couldn’t understand it when Levi Ackerman, a student that had never shown any particular academic talent in his previous years at high school, could suddenly rank higher than him in mathematics courses.

Prior to this year, Zeke had been aware of who Levi Ackerman was. Although Levi had never been much of a scholar, he was rumored to be quite the athlete. Many students would beg him to join their clubs at the beginning of this year, but he only seemed to be interested in the going-home club, which was fine with Zeke. It was actually an advantage for Zeke because it ensured that his place and his rank on the baseball club, the only extracurricular that Zeke was interested in, was left alone. It bothered him a bit that someone so talented would let his talents go to waste, but it was a bit relieving to know that Levi would never threaten Zeke’s career academically or athletically. Perhaps it was foolish for Zeke to assume that things would remain the same.

It wasn’t a shock to Zeke when, beginning their third year, Levi began to climb up the ranks. When students were preparing for their university exams, it was natural for some students - especially students that normally ranked at the bottom of their year - to steadily improve their scores. It was only a surprise when Levi began to enter the top fifty, then the top twenty-five, finally breaking into the top ten where he replaced Zeke for second place in mathematics. Levi’s scores in their other courses - history, English, biology, and others - weren’t nearly as high, but they were still an impressive improvement when one considered Levi’s previous scores.

Levi’s success in math bothered Zeke especially - more so than Zeke’s overall improvement as a student - because Zeke found mathematics to be one of the more difficult subjects. Other courses required one to have good memorization skills, so it wasn’t difficult to do well in these classes if one applied themselves. Math, however, was an entirely different matter which requires one to not only know certain formulas and methods, but also know when to use them. He couldn’t understand how Levi, who had always seemed to struggle with such things before, could have mastered that so quickly. The first time Levi ranked about him, Zeke had thought it had just been a fluke, but it turned out not to be the case when three more exams flew by and Levi continued to rank above him.

There really was no need to feel so threatened. Both of them could do well academically and still get into their desired universities. A rivalry would only distract him from his overall goal, Zeke thought, and it would be much more beneficial to become friends. He might be able to learn a thing or two about Levi and how he improved his studying so quickly. Unfortunately, friends were something that Levi was completely uninterested in.

When Zeke had tried to approach Levi for a conversation, he would turn to Levi’s desk only to find it empty, his target disappearing off to the rooftop of school despite the fact that it was off-limits. The few times he could catch Levi and exchange words, he found Levi to be disinterested and standoffish, responding only with one-word replies and ending the conversation before it had even started. Thus, Zeke had decided that his energy would be better spent trying to study harder and reclaiming his spot at the top of the academic boards. Unfortunately, his efforts to do so proved fruitless, and he found himself falling behind Levi even when he studied all night for exams. This awakened a competitive streak in Zeke that he never knew he had, and he found himself frowning whenever Levi was in the same vicinity. But despite his overall dislike for his oblivious rival, he still found himself uniquely interested in Levi.

Zeke manages to catch Levi right as lunch begins, calling his classmate’s name and strolling over to his desk before Levi can slip away as he usually does. Although Levi looks less than pleased to see him, Zeke greets him with a wide grin before sitting down in the desk in front of him. “Congrats on getting the second highest score on the mathematics exam again. You’re doing quite well,” he tells Levi, trying to keep his tone friendly and light. “I don’t think you ever told me what school you were planning on going to.”

“That’s because I never told you,” Levi mutters under his breath. His response is rude, but not totally unexpected. He looks about impatiently, and it looks as if he’s about to run away from the conversation until Zeke speaks again.

“So where do you plan on going?” Zeke asks.

Levi sighs as if this conversation is inconveniencing him despite the fact that he’s hardly exchanged any words. Finally, he replies, “Tohoku.”

“Tohoku?” Zeke repeats. He knew that Levi would be reaching for a good university, but he didn’t expect it to be Tohoku. “Are you going to be studying computer science then? I didn’t know you had an interest in coding.”

“Something like that,” Levi mumbles. He shoves his hands in his pockets and slouches down in his seat. The expression on his face is like that of an impatient student that can’t wait for the final class to ring. Zeke half expects Levi to raise his hand and ask to be excused. Or maybe not. Levi’s the type to just get up and leave class with or without the instructor’s permission.

“Do you always speak like this with your friends?” Zeke asks, trying not to snap at Levi. He tries to disguise his annoyance with a tight smile.

“I wasn’t under the impression that we were friends,” Levi replies matter-of-factly, an eyebrow raised.

What a frustrating guy, Zeke thinks. Out loud, he asks, “You aren’t a very popular guy, are you, Levi?” The question comes out a little more scathingly than he intends, but Zeke decides that he’s given Levi more than enough chances at a civil conversation. “You don’t know how to hold a conversation, and your expression isn’t any friendlier. I expect that you’re rather unpopular with women as well. Would you agree?”

He doesn’t need Levi to answer that question. He’s observed Levi’s empty desk on Valentine’s day and seen the way female students interact (or rather, avoid interaction) with Levi, and he knows the answer. It’s clear that Levi knows that what Zeke says is true because his mouth is set in a thin line, jaw clenched as he glares at the bespectacled giant towering above him. It’s unclear what’s about to happen - if Levi is moving to push past Zeke or if he’s about to lift a fist and punch Zeke in the face - but whatever it is Levi is about to do, Zeke never finds out because a voice from the doorway calls to them.

“Zeke! Levi!” Zeke knows the owner of that voice without looking. From the sweetness and clarity of the tone, it’s undoubtedly Petra, an underclassman in the math club with Zeke. He hadn’t seen her in a while - like most third years, he had been forced to drop out of his club activities to focus on university exams - but he had been meaning to speak with her. He’s rather touched that she’s come to his class just to find him. It’s rare for first and second-years to visit their seniors' classroom, and Petra’s appearance is attracting quite the attention.

“Petra,” Zeke says with a smile. He thinks that her unexpected appearance is a good thing. As he walks towards her, he glances back at Levi and smirks when he sees how his rival is glowering at him. What a lucky day it is. He can kill two birds with one stone. “I wasn’t aware that you were coming. Did you come to see me?”

Petra always looks sweet, but somehow she looks even cuter and more vulnerable than usual as she pushes her way through curious third-years to reach him. She must be somewhat embarrassed coming to see him all by herself because her cheeks are flushed a pretty pink. As she approaches Zeke, she pushes her hair away from her face with one hand. In her other hand, she clutches a bento box that’s tied up in a pink checkered cloth. She looks relieved to see the both of them, smiling as she says, “Hi, Zeke.” She looks over at Levi, offering him the same gentle smile. “Levi, I was afraid you had gone already.”

Zeke takes a casual step towards Petra, intentionally blocking Levi from her view. He leans forward, smiling down at her. “I actually wanted to speak with you, Petra, so it’s a good thing that you’ve come. Let’s go eat lunch together, perhaps at the stairwell…?” His voice trails off when he sees Petra fidgeting nervously in front of him, and he wonders why it is that she’s so acting so skittish around him.

Petra hesitates for a moment before responding. “Well, I actually came here for Levi,” she says awkwardly, and Zeke understands why she had been fidgeting before.

Now it is Zeke’s turn to feel awkward. He stands there, stunned, wondering why on earth she would choose Levi over him. It can’t be because of Levi’s academic prowess, which still pairs in comparison to Zeke’s overall. It can’t be because of Levi’s appearance either because he looks like a stunted gnome with constipation when he stands next to Zeke. And surely it can’t be because of Levi’s nonexistent conversational skills, which make Zeke look so eloquent.

Levi gets up from his seat and walks past Zeke, his shoulder roughly nudging Zeke out of the way. He turns his head slightly so that Zeke can see the triumphant smirk on his face before looking back at Petra. “You could have just told me you wanted to see me,” he tells her. “Did you want something?”

“I just thought we could eat lunch together,” she says, looking at him shyly. There’s a flush of pink in her cheeks, but it’s different from the flush from earlier. The blush of a girl in love. “I brought a bento that we could eat together.”

“That sounds great,” Levi says, and Zeke finds himself filled with an intense hatred for the dark-haired imp in front of him. “You go up ahead to the rooftop and I’ll meet you there. I just need to get something from my bag first.”

“Alright,” Petra says happily. She’s about to turn and leave, but she stops when she remembers her earlier conversation with Zeke. She cranes her neck so that she can look at the upperclassman that’s currently moping in front of her. “Zeke, did you still want to talk? You said you had something to tell me.”

Quickly, Zeke shakes his head, a forced smile on his face. “Nope. Not at all. It’s really not that important,” he tells her. “In fact, you can forget I ever said anything. You can just enjoy your lunch with Levi.”

“Oh, okay. Let me know if you change your mind, though,” Petra says with a laugh. She gives them both a small bow before taking her leave, the two boys staring after her. It’s only when she’s disappeared into the hallway that Levi turns to Zeke.

“I guess I am a pretty unpopular guy,” Levi tells Zeke coolly. He shoves his hands in his pockets, a smug smile on his face. “But I think you’d agree that I’m popular enough.” He leaves after that, following after Petra as Zeke glares angrily at him.

His rivalry with Levi is no longer one-sided, Zeke realizes. He had thought that it was a simple academic rivalry, one that would just require him to study more, but he sees that he’s underestimated Levi. He’s more of a threat than Zeke had initially believed, and Zeke vows to take this duel between men more seriously now that he knows that Levi is his adversary in more ways than one.

#levi ackerman #zeke jaeger #petra ral #rivetra #zeketra #shoujo manga au #snk

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thefandomlesbian · 6 years ago

Note

Foxxay AU prompt: Misty and Cordelia get to know each other after their initial meeting when misty offers to help Cordelia with the pain on her eyes from the acid attack.

And yet again, please read on AO3 for the experience because copying and pasting on Tumblr gets rid of my italics.

“So I tripped and I fellI got lost for a little whileBut you caught me in your loving armsRescued me with your smile.” -Christine McVie, “Givin’ It Back”

...

Zoe slipped into the greenhouse late one afternoon as the sunset streaked over the horizon. “Hey, Misty?” The house had overgrown with plants since Cordelia’s accident. No one kept it clean, and in Cordelia’s absence, the herbs and flowers returned to their natural state. She kicked a vine off of her ankle. “Misty? You out here?” She had seen the eccentric hippie witch slip into the greenhouse through her bedroom window a few hours ago.

From behind a lily with broad, green leaves, Misty popped her head. “Hey. Is it alright that I’m piddling out here? Seems like nobody uses it.”

Her brow quirked. “Oh, um--yeah, it’s fine. Nobody’s been out here since Cordelia had her, um, her… thing.” She didn’t know how to succinctly explain what had happened to Cordelia, especially since Misty had brought back the woman who had allegedly crippled her.

“The blind lady?” Zoe hummed a vague agreement. “She’s awful pretty, isn’t she?”

“Um… She’s kind of old?”

“Well, I mean, I’m just saying--what’s her deal?”

Lips pursing, Zoe tilted her head. This was not what she had come to talk to Misty about. “Her--deal?” she repeated, and Misty nodded and shrugged as she snipped the leaves off of a pretty flowered plant. “I mean, she can, like, See into the future and past and stuff, now. If she touches you, that is. It’s all new. She couldn’t do it before.”

Misty grinned. “That’s wicked cool.” Her cheeks had a pink tint. “Not the whole, blindness thing, but the magic.”

Pushing some big leaves out of the way, Zoe crinkled her nose. Some of the plants reeked. “Yeah, if you’re into having your mind read,” she muttered.

Paying no attention to Zoe, Misty continued to ramble, “It’s so cool. She knows so much about magic. I was reading one of these journals, trying to figure out how to take care of these stinky little shits, and, like, they’re all handwritten. I never met somebody so smart before. How come she don’t come out anymore?”

Liking Misty in spite of all of her eccentricities was difficult for Zoe. “Well… I think it hurts. Like, phantom pain, or something, like the people who lose limbs and stuff. Acid burns, and it takes awhile to heal.” It was the best way she knew how to explain it, and it was just secondhand from what Nan told them when Cordelia started missing meals. “And, um, she isn’t good at the whole… being blind thing, yet. Try trimming those plants with your eyes closed and see how many fingers you lose.”

She almost expected Misty to try it and find out. She didn’t. “Do you think she wants help?”

“I--I don’t know, I haven’t really talked to her.” Misty opened her mouth to say something else, but Zoe held up her hand. “Listen, I just wanted to ask you about Kyle!” Cordelia was among the least interesting topics before her right now. She didn’t grasp Misty’s fixation on the headmistress. Cordelia was just a witch, and not a very good one at that. She was kind and sweet and gentle, but she had the spine of a slug.

At the mention of Kyle, Misty set her jaw. “What about that ouragan? I wash my hands of him.”

Deciding better than to ask the meaning of the word Misty had used, Zoe cleared her throat. “I just thought, maybe, you might know something that could, like, help him. Calm him down and make him normal. Like he was before he died.”

“It ain’t my problem you decided to compile your boyfriend from a butchery like Frankenstein’s monster.” Zoe averted her eyes. Misty softened. “Listen, there’s a bunch of potions Cordelia’s written up down here. I’ll try to work on something for him. If I kill him by accident, I can always bring him back.”

It wasn’t promising, but it was the best Zoe figured she would get. “Thanks, Misty.” She offered a timid smile to Misty, but the other woman had already gone back to snipping a plant with blue flowers and peering over a journal which, indeed, had handwritten descriptions and drawings enclosed. With a sigh, Zoe left the greenhouse, leaving Misty to her lonely peace.

…

Long after night fell and the crickets hummed outside, the distant stars twinkling and offering meager light for her work, Misty raised her head from another plant. “It got awful dark.” She had made her way through most of the plants and cleaned them up back to good health like the journal instructed. Surveying the room, she gave a small, satisfied smile. She had done good work. Careful not to disturb the nighttime creatures, she headed out to the garden hose and sprayed the dirt off of her hands and feet so she wouldn’t track anything into the house. She may have been raised in a barn, but she wasn’t about to treat her new house like one when they had welcomed her.

She held the front door open just enough where it wouldn’t squeak, and she slipped through it, placing her feet on the wooden floor in certain places where noises wouldn’t emerge. She didn’t want to disturb anyone. Good god, I’m hungry enough to eat a horse. On the balls of her feet, Misty crept down the hall and into the kitchen. Her hand fumbled for the light switch.

The bright lights illuminated Cordelia’s figure at the counter. Misty stifled a yelp by slapping her hand over her mouth. Cordelia kept working at the counter; she hadn’t heard Misty enter the house. The blind witch had a napkin in front of her and two pieces of bread, and almost every cabinet was open as she searched for something. She pulled out jars one by one, felt them, opened them, smelled them, and then put them on the counter--they weren’t what she was looking for. Cordelia’s hand wrapped pulled a jar of peanut butter from the cabinet. She unscrewed it and sniffed it. Delight spread across her face. She dipped her pinky finger into the peanut butter and licked it up, as if to verify the identity of the condiment she’d found.

Misty cleared her throat. Cordelia flinched. “Hey, Miss Cordelia.”

“Misty.” Cordelia hastily screwed the lid back onto the jar of peanut butter. “How long have you been there?”

If I’d been here very long, I would’ve helped you find the peanut butter. “I just came in from outside. I was playing with your plants. What are you doing messing around in the dark? Scared the devil out of me, just about.”

Cordelia raised an eyebrow at her. Oh. Right. Fortunately, Cordelia didn’t call any attention to her stupid question. She approached the other witch. “How are they?” Misty blinked at the strange question, and at her silence, Cordelia clarified in a soft voice, “The plants.”

“Oh. Oh! Right. They’re just dandy. I trimmed ‘em up, just like the books said, and got the room cleaned up a little bit so somebody can actually walk through it.”

A sorrowful look colored Cordelia’s face with discontent. “Thank you for taking care of them.” Misty picked up some of the jars and started to stuff them back into the cabinet. “Oh--don’t worry about it--I’m sorry, I’ll get out of the way.” Cordelia started to pull all of her things down the counter to make more room for Misty.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t run off. I’m just gonna warm up some supper. Would you want some of that instead? ‘Cause I took out the last of the jam with a spoon this morning.” Misty wondered if she should have been ashamed of herself, but she brushed the notion aside. She had woken up hungry and hadn’t cared to toast some bread for the jam.

Cordelia shook her head. “No, I--I can’t.”

Misty’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, you can’t? Your mouth still works, don’t it?”

A hand fluttered to the bridge of Cordelia’s nose. Her whole face screwed up into a pained grimace, lips tenting downward. She pressed her fingers over her closed eyelids. The mutilated, pink skin flushed red as if with the memory of the attack which had crippled her. She pressed hard on her eyes, like the pressure would relieve the agony there. Misty frowned. “Hey… Are you okay?” She reached for Cordelia’s hand where it rested on the countertop. She didn’t hesitate. She wasn’t afraid of what Cordelia might See when they touched. Cordelia had soft hands smooth as honey. Zoe said it hurts. Misty bit her lower lip as she waited for the pain to pass.

As it did, the first thing Cordelia managed to say was an apology. “I’m so sorry.” She was breathless. “I’m fine. It’s all in my head.” She said the words ruefully.

“Doesn’t look like it’s all in your head.”

“I’m fine,” Cordelia repeated, and she picked up the knife beside the napkin on the counter--a huge, eight inch chef’s knife. Misty��s eyes widened as Cordelia unscrewed the jar of peanut butter again and stuck the blade of the giant knife into the peanut butter.

Her voice caught in her throat. Cordelia pulled the blade slathered in peanut butter out out of the jar. “Er--maybe we shouldn’t spread the peanut butter on the bread with a steak knife? Just a thought.”

Cordelia blinked. “It’s not a steak knife. It’s a butter knife, see--” Misty gaped. Cordelia pulled the blade back and plunged it into her own hand. “Oh shit!” She released the knife, now covered in peanut butter and blood, which gushed from Cordelia’s palm and dribbled all over the rug and the floor and the counter. Misty grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her to the sink. Flicking on the cold water, she put the gaping wound under the stream, washing away the peanut butter, though the blood burbled back to the surface as quickly as she brushed it away.

A tight breath hitched in Cordelia’s throat. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her other hand drew into a white-knuckled fist. She’s trying not to cry. C’mon, Misty, say something! Say something right for once! She liked Cordelia. Why did she have to be so inept? “It’s okay,” she blurted, tearing off a bunch of paper towels and pressing them to the bleeding wound. “It’s okay. It’s not that bad.”

“Don’t lie to me.” She was holding Cordelia’s hand. Cordelia could detect her falsehoods. Settling into silence, Misty helplessly bit her lip, trying to keep herself from saying anything else dumb. Cordelia cleared her throat. “Will you drive me to the hospital?” she asked in a low voice. “I’ll need stitches.”

She said it in a flat way, but the despondent expression on her face betrayed her. Witches weren’t meant to rely on modern medicine, not really. Misty could only imagine the scorn Cordelia would be subject to by Fiona in the morning. “Nah, c’mon--there must be half a dozen potions out there that’ll mend you right up. I know I can make one of them if you help me get the right stuff.” Fiona would absolutely kill her if she let some doctor clean up Cordelia’s hand, but disturbing the Supreme now seemed like an equally horrible idea.

“Fiona won’t care.” Misty remained silent, unsure how to respond, unsure what Cordelia was Seeing of her. Cordelia’s lower lip trembled. On reflex, something driving her from within, Misty lifted her hand from Cordelia’s and stilled her shaking mouth with her thumb. “I--I can’t. Help you. I don’t know how.”

Misty tilted her head. “What do you mean? I looked through your books. You wrote all that stuff--you’re, like, Hermione Granger.”

In spite of the blood quickly soaking the paper towel, a tiny, wry smile broke Cordelia’s face. “I’m not as smart as you think I am.” She cradled Cordelia’s soft cheek in the palm of her hand, cupping it. Good lord, she’s so pretty. In the bright light of the kitchen, Cordelia’s messy, caramel-colored hair framed her face and set out her freckles. “I can’t help you. The last time I went into the greenhouse, I poisoned myself.”

“I won’t let that happen. Promise.”

Hand flexing, a grimace passed across Cordelia’s face. “Alright,” she whispered. The sorrow clung to the corners of her eyes and her lips. With her other hand, she took Misty’s arm. She smells really good, too. The proximity between them allowed her to smell Cordelia’s perfume, or her soap, or her shampoo, or something that was unique and womanly. It’s definitely her hair. Cordelia blushed, but she didn’t say anything, and Misty was glad she didn’t call her out on her admiring thoughts.

Cordelia didn’t have her cane--she had left it on the kitchen counter with all of the jars and the bread and the peanut butter and the knife and the spatters of blood--so Misty carefully led her through the front door. It creaked in its frame as she pulled it open. “There’s a stoop.” Cordelia hesitated at the steps, but clinging to Misty, she took them one at a time, ankles caving underneath her. “Careful. I’ve gotcha.”

“Thank you,” Cordelia breathed, tense as a rail. The darkness made no difference to her, but the night chill caused a shiver to trail down her spine. She licked her lips. “Thank you,” she said again.

“It’s alright. C’mon.” Misty led her down the cracked cobblestone sidewalk. The weeds had grown up around the sidewalk and brushed their ankles. Somebody’s gotta clean this up. No wonder she never goes outside. She had taken it for granted, the messy nature of the yard, but for Cordelia, it was like handing a toddler a grenade and hoping they didn’t pull the pin. Misty pushed the door to the greenhouse open. “Watch out.” Watch out. Dumbass. “There’s a door stop.”

She stepped over it with some dexterity. “I should wait here… I don’t want to get in the way.”

“Nah, you’re not in the way. I need moral support. C’mon.” Misty dragged Cordelia, who stumbled along reluctantly between the tables and past the freshly snipped vines, alongside her to the spot where she had left the journals. “Which one do you think I should try? Preferably nothing that will blow up.”

Swallowing hard, Cordelia’s nostrils flared with a considerate sigh as she resigned herself to the task. “Um… I--I would do the--the aloe, calendula, and chamomile blend.”

“Alright.” Misty didn’t waste any time in flinging open the book and grabbing the mortar and pestle. She picked some orange flowers from the calendula and tossed them into the bowl, and then she stripped some aloe leaves and tossed them in with the yellow petals. The chamomile went next; it smelled pleasant. The recipe called for a pinch of arnica, which she added, and then she glanced down at the incantation.

Cordelia sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. Misty stole a sideways glance at her. Cordelia pinched her good hand over her eyes again, a pained expression on her face. I’ve got to do something about that. “Here.” Misty cleared a bunch of the plants and empty pots from the table, and she boosted Cordelia up onto the table so she could sit on it. Grinding up the herbs into a paste, she squinted to make out Cordelia’s cursive handwriting on the page. It was in Latin. Fortunately, Misty had gone to enough masses in her life to know how to read some Latin. “Manus curare paterentur.” Her finger traced the underside of the words as she read them aloud. It was foreign to her, summoning her magic through speech, but as she did it, she could feel ancient parts of herself stirring through the roots of the women before her branching out into her own limbs. “Tange cor meum patitur.” What does any of this mean, anyway? “Patitur animam meam ut consolarentur hanon. Magicae mihi liceat ipsis promptior animus foret.”

As she spoke the incantation, the paste blended up into a cream with a pleasant scent like cinnamon rising from it. “Okay,” Misty exhaled. She took Cordelia’s bad hand and unfurled it, unsticking the sodden paper towels from her palm. “You okay?”

Her voice trembled. “Y-Yeah. I’m fine.” She removed her hand from her face. “I’m sorry.” Her lips formed a frowning tent.

Dipping her fingers into the paste, Misty spread it across the cut. “Here. It’s alright. I’m taking care of you.” Cordelia’s free hand floated in the air, hovering like a blind hummingbird, before her fingertips brushed against Misty’s hair. Her hand slipped down to feel Misty’s face. Misty closed her eyes and smiled into the palm as it caressed her cheek, her nose, her mouth. Cordelia’s hand paused on her cheek. Her face froze in deep thought, lips pursing and eyebrows quirking together, and she closed her mangled eyes. Misty turned her head to kiss the inside of her palm where it rested on her cheek. She massaged the paste into Cordelia’s hand with tender fingers. The cut vanished as the enchanted potion touched it.

Rubbing the cream into the skin, Misty waited for the wound to become a raised, pink scar before she lifted her eyes back up to Cordelia’s preoccupied face. “Hey. All better now.”

Marbled eyes blinked in surprise. She Saw something. Cordelia slid her hand all over Misty’s face again. “Right. Thank you.” She swallowed hard and reluctantly peeled her palm off of Misty’s face. “You’re very kind, Misty.”

“Well, of course. I want to be your friend.” Cordelia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Is there any potion I can make for that?” she asked in a softer voice.

Turning her face away, Cordelia shook her head. “No… I don’t think so.”

Misty put her hand over Cordelia’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Will you let me try something I think might help?”

Opening her freshly healed hand to Misty, Cordelia nodded. “Yes--Yes, of course.” She allowed Misty’s hand to slide out of hers. Misty drew back away from her. “Where are you going?”

She blew a kiss. Cordelia couldn’t see it. “I’ll be right back.”

“Misty!” Misty knew where she was going, though, and she stayed near enough to keep Cordelia in her line of sight. She filled a cup with hose water and stirred in some crushed mint leaves and lavender petals. There was no Latin incantation, but her magic rose to the surface to imbue the mixture, and as it did so, it changed colors and bubbled with a bluish froth. She used the hose to spray into a jar full of soil, and then she scooped the fresh mud into the bowl and made her way back to Cordelia.

She put the dirty cup in Cordelia’s hand. “Drink.”

Sniffing it, Cordelia raised her eyebrows. “What is it? It smells good.”

It occurred to Misty that she hadn’t actually named it; she had always called it tea when she had to make it for other people who weren’t witches and didn’t know better. “I dunno. I made it up,” she answered honestly. “My granny used to ask me to make it to help with her migraines. It won’t hurt you. It’s just hose water and leaves.”

Her bad explanation had convinced Cordelia, who put the rim of the cup to her lips and sipped hesitantly. The taste wasn’t horrible. She took larger swallows once she had tasted it. “Close your eyes.” Misty dabbed up the mud between her index and middle fingers. She smeared it over Cordelia’s mutilated eyelids where the acid had scarred her face. “Don’t open them. You probably shouldn’t get dirt in your eyes.”

“It’s not like it will make me more blind.” Cordelia extended her hand again, reaching into the abyss, and this time, Misty took it and placed it on her face. Her other hand followed the first so they worked in tandem to map out Misty’s face. “Thank you.” She tugged Misty’s face closer to hers. Misty’s eyes widened as Cordelia’s warm breath crossed her own mouth. But Cordelia didn’t make a move. She waited there, uncertain, afraid to budge.

Misty licked her lips. “What did you See?” Her voice came in a bare whisper.

Cordelia’s voice was just as soft. “What do you think I Saw?”

It was an invitation. Misty bowed her face forward and kissed Cordelia on the lips. Her dry mouth touched the other woman’s chapped lips. It lasted but a few seconds, but when she drew back, all of the breath whistled from her lungs. “Was that right?”

One of Cordelia’s thumbs trailed down her cheekbone. “Yes.”

The curdling growl of Misty’s stomach interrupted them. Misty offered a nervous laugh, and Cordelia reciprocated, a shaky chuckle leaving her. “C’mon. I’ve got some tomatoes in the garden. They should be good enough for dinner.”

She turned her back to Cordelia and took her hands. Fumbling for a moment, Cordelia wrapped her arms around Misty’s neck. “Are you sure this is a good--Oof!” Misty hoisted her off of the table and hooked her arms under her legs, carrying her on her back. Cordelia laughed, burying her face into Misty’s curls, tightening her legs around her waist. “Are you okay?” she asked in spite of her laughter. “Is this too much?”

“I’m fine!” Misty bounced her a little, and Cordelia hid her face in Misty’s hair to keep from laughing more. I’m making her happy. She had known little but solemness from Cordelia since she came here, but her smile opened a goldmine in Misty’s heart, and the sound of her laugh warmed her very soul. “Get the light.” Cordelia put a hand on the wall. “Up--not that far. To the right. Little lower--there!” Cordelia flicked off the lightswitch and cast the greenhouse into darkness, and Misty plodded out into the garden.

The overgrown tomato and vegetable plants brushed against their legs as Misty combed through rows. “This was empty before,” Cordelia whispered into the side of her neck. “What did you do?”

Misty released Cordelia’s legs and eased her back onto the ground. “I found a bunch of veggie seeds in the garage. I got pretty good at growing vegetables fast--being I had to eat them.” She took Cordelia’s hands and tugged her down. “C’mon. We can sit on my sleeping bag.”

She hoped Cordelia would let it slide, but Cordelia was far too intuitive to miss it. “You have a sleeping bag out here?” she asked in a soft voice. “Why?”

Picking a round tomato off of the vine, Misty checked it over for bugs in the moonlight before she put it in Cordelia’s hand. “I sleep better under the stars. With the crickets. With the smell of the dirt, and the sound of the wind, and waking up with the sunrise and the songbirds. Feels more like home to me.”

Cordelia crossed her legs on the sleeping bag. “This is your home now, Misty.”

Turning another tomato in her hand, Misty checked it before she took a bite out of it. The juice ran down her face and dribbled down her wrist. “You really think so?”

An arm wrapped around Misty’s shoulders as Cordelia scooted closer beside her. “Yes.” Cordelia’s body was warm and soft and smelled like cinnamon and vanilla. Misty bowed her head into Cordelia’s hair to drink in the sweet scent. “The coven is here to protect you. And you have a lot to offer the coven. Myrtle is right--you could easily be the next Supreme.” Misty shook her head, but Cordelia didn’t let the notion go so easily. “You’re doing impressive magic. With the plants, and the potion, and Madison. No one else could have done that. I think it’s important for you to know that.”

Misty smiled. “Thank you, Miss Cordelia. I’m flattered.” She wasn’t convinced, but Cordelia spoke with conviction, and she knew enough of Cordelia to value her opinion. “I don’t think I want it,” she admitted in a whisper, “but… if I’ve got you, I can handle it.”

Cordelia’s soft smile widened. She pressed her lips to Misty’s wet, tomato juice-covered cheek. “You’ve got me.” Misty kissed Cordelia’s temple with her sticky lips. “But you should sleep inside. It’s not safe out here. Especially with the witch hunters.”

It was tempting for her to brush aside Cordelia’s concern and blow her off, but her tender body and sweet smell and the heat blowing off her skin were addictive, and something about the way Cordelia touched her pressed affection into her skin. She couldn’t let it escape without a fight. “I’ll think about it.” She nudged Cordelia. “Eat your tomato, princess.”

“I’ll make a mess.”

“That’s literally the point of eating a whole tomato. If you don’t want to look like a toddler, you slice it first.” Cordelia inclined her eyebrows, but Misty’s encouragement was enough; she sank her teeth into the soft red flesh of the fruit. Tomato juice dribbled down her chin, but Misty caught it with her thumb and wiped it away and licked it off of her finger.

They both made loud slurping noises as they finished off the tomatoes, staining their clothes with the juice and the seeds. Misty unzipped the sleeping bag. “Can I stay out here with you tonight?” Cordelia asked. “If--Only if that’s okay--I just want to know you’re safe--”

“Yes!” Misty’s answer was a little too enthusiastic, and she scrambled to right herself. “Of course, I’d love the company.” She opened the sleeping bag and unfolded it. “Here.” Cordelia stuck her legs into the sleeping bag with Misty’s guidance. Misty slithered in after her. It was a one-person sleeping bag, so they fit snugly together. “Is--Is this alright?” Misty asked after a moment’s hesitation.

Rolling onto her back, Cordelia brushed her body against Misty’s. “Yes. It’s wonderful.” The crickets rolled through the garden, and the wind rattled one of the shutters of the greenhouse. “Misty, I… I like you a lot.” She touched Misty’s curly hair with a hesitant hand, like she feared her touch was unwelcome. Misty nuzzled into the touch. “Thank you for helping me.”

“I like you, too.” I love you. Misty knew she felt it, but she was afraid to say it. Normal people didn’t say things like that. She didn’t want to risk scaring Cordelia away.

Unfortunately, she forgot the presence of Cordelia’s hand on her face until Cordelia wriggled forward and kissed her. Their lips pressed against one another’s and wiggled with an uncertain rhythm. Misty’s breath hitched in her throat, but she reciprocated the gentle kiss. Her mouth opened. Cordelia’s tongue slithered inside and touched hers. As Cordelia tugged away, she licked her lips. “I love you, too.”

Misty placed an arm on Cordelia’s waist. “Do your eyes feel better?”

Cordelia’s eyelashes brushed her skin under the thick, caked layer of mud on her eyelids. “They do… They haven’t hurt at all since you brought me out here.”

“Good.” Misty licked her thumb and used it to wipe away the muck from Cordelia’s face. “I don’t ever want you to hurt again.” Cordelia pressed her face into the crook of Misty’s neck. “Goodnight, Miss Cordelia.”

Face crinkling with discomfort, Cordelia murmured, “Maybe don’t call me that now?”

Misty smirked. “Alright. I won’t.” She ran her hand through Cordelia’s hair. The crickets hummed outside, and the sweet sounds of the night settled over the garden, but Misty remained awake, even as Cordelia drifted off to sleep. Her gaze landed on the star-streaked sky far above them in the garden. Cordelia nuzzled against her in her sleep. Which one of those stars decided to bring us together? she wondered. And will any of them ever decide to tear us apart?

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i-also-miss-our-talks · 7 years ago

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Do you have one in blue? ~ Tree Bros

In which the computer lab scene happens, but it’s Pastel!Connor and Emo!Evan created by @softmushie. I got really carried away by this so I apologize profusely. It was actually kinda hard to write? But yeah. I really hope you enjoy it and I really adore your AU and all of your artwork/animatics!

Also! Two A.M. cotton candy party headcannon was made by @volarfinch! Thank you for the beautiful idea that will forever be one of the best headcannons ever!

WC: 1,455

Warning: Swearing, Panic attack, Implied suicidal intentions

Masterlist

Part 2

Part Three

Also it’s midnight here and I really should be in bed (but sleep is for the weak) so sorry about the horrible writing! Okay. I’m done. Go read.

“So, what happened to your arm?”

Evan turned towards the sound of the voice and nearly had to squint at the sight. Through all the holographic hair clips and shining, colored streaks of hair, Evan somehow managed to figure out that the source was none other than Connor Murphy, the kid he pushed earlier that day. He scoffed and unconsciously scratched at the small amount of skin above his cast but beneath his elbow. “I fell out of a fucking tree,” Evan mumbled.

“You fell out of a tree?” Connor repeated. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m so sorry.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Why are you sorry? It’s not like you pushed me out of the tree.”

Connor stood uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot. He gripped the paper in his hand a bit more tightly. “I see, uh, no one’s signed your cast.”

“Yeah. I know,” Evan said, tossing his bag over his shoulder. Why couldn’t Connor take the hint that he wasn’t one to make conversation with? Just let him grab his paper off the printer and leave for his next class. The sooner he got this school day over with, the sooner he could get into his moms medicine cabinet.

“Well, I’ll sign it,” Connor smiled, tucking a strand of pastel pink hair behind his ear.

“Oh.” How was Evan supposed to react to that? Connor—the kid who’s constantly picked on for his love of bright and colorful things. The kid who Evan had pushed earlier that day because he was so mad at some stupid offhand comment about his own looks that he had to take it out on someone else. The kid who just so happened to be the older brother of Zoe Murphy, Evan’s crush—wanted to sign his cast. “You don’t, um, you don’t have to.”

Connor shrugged. “You have a sharpie?” Evan dug into his coat pocket and pulled out the black sharpie his mom had gave him that morning. Connor grimaced at the marker. “Do you have one in blue?”

Evan frowned. “No I don’t have one in fucking blue.”

The taller boy smiled and set the paper he was holding down on the desk beside him. He swung his backpack off his shoulders, unzipped it, and pulled out his cotton candy covered pencil case. “I think Zoe gave mine back to me,” Connor said as he looked through the small case. Evan could see that the pencil case was filled with dozens of different colored sharpies. Some of the caps had small teeth marks from when Connor held them in his mouth while he was using the marker.

“Here it is!” Connor smiled and uncapped it. He carefully grabbed Evan’s cast and, in big, bold letters, spelled out “CONNOR” with a small smiley face at the end.

Evan raised an eyebrow at the size of the name. “Oh. Wow. Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it,” Connor said as he packed up his things. He gasped and grabbed the paper off the desk, handing it to the emo boy. “Here. I found this on the printer. I think it belongs to you? ‘Dear Evan Hansen,’ that’s you, right?”

Evan snatched the paper from his hands and stuffed it into his pocket. “Yeah. It’s just, um, it’s a shitty letter, paper I had to write for the, um, a class,” Evan managed to get out. He felt his palms start to sweat. Shit! Not here, not now! Please!

“Hey, are you okay?” Connor asked, putting a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Evan pushed him away and stumbled out of the computer lab. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why did you have to have a panic attack now? And for some shitty reason, non the less! Connor hadn’t even read the whole letter! Probably? He did see it was my name. Shit. He read it, didn’t he? These thoughts ran through Evans head as he headed for the second floor boys bathroom. It was almost always empty which was great because Evan could go there when his panic attacks set in. He stomped inside and went to the back stall, stuffing himself into the back corner and tucking his legs into his chest.

He was so focused on leaving that he didn’t remember to close the bathroom door.

“Evan? I don’t really know what’s going on, but I don’t think I’m supposed to just leave you here alone,” Connor said as he entered the small bathroom. He closed the door and went to the back stall, kneeling in front of the slightly shaking boy. “What do you need me to do?”

Evan couldn’t answer. He couldn’t talk. Heck, he couldn’t even move his mouth. He just sat there shivering, trying to control his breathing.

Connor pulled off his multicolored vest and tossed it over Evan’s shoulders. “I know you already have a jacket on, but you were still shivering so this might help,” he explained.

Connor bit his lip as he watched the emo boy take big, gulping breaths. An idea popped into his mind. Connor went into his bag and pulled out his cotton candy pencil case once again, grabbing a purple sharpie from inside. He gently grabbed Evan’s cast and set it in his lap. “Hey, try this, okay?” Connor drew a small square on the underside of the cast. “When I trace the line up, breath in. But don’t let go until I trace the line going down, okay?”

Evan silently nodded, squinting through newly-forming tears to watch Connors square. He followed Connors instructions and was surprised at how well it helped to control his breathing. After 43 fully completed squares, Evan was breathing normally again. He was surprised when he heard his own voice thank Connor for helping him.

Connor smiled and capped the marker. “Don’t mention it. Again.” He put the sharpie away and pulled out a light green one. He started to draw a small vine with leaves on his forearm.

Evan watched, entranced by the calming stroke of Connor’s sharpie. He felt like a complete fool when he said, “can you draw that on my cast?”

Connor stared at Evan for a few seconds before breaking out into a giant grin. “Of course!”

The rest of the school day was spent hiding in the second floor bathroom. When the bell rang indicating school was over, Evan’s cast was covered in pastel colored flowers, sweets, different shapes, and even a mini self portrait of himself. Evan gathered his things and gave Connor his vest back. He was ready to go home and…oh. Right. His moms medicine cabinet. Evan forgot about that. At least today was a good day to end on, right?

“Do you want me to bring you pink or blue cotton candy?”

Evan looked at Connor with questioning eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Zoe and I are gonna have a two a.m. cotton candy party and I was wondering if you’d want me to bring you some tomorrow?” Connor explained, putting away his things and standing up.

“Why would you want to bring me some?” Evan asked and walked out of the bathroom, the pastel boy in tow.

“Because you’re my friend!” Connor said happily. “So, pink or blue?”

Evan shrugged. “Surprise me.”

“Okay. Yeah. Sounds good.” Connor spotted Zoe in the crowded hallway. “I’ve gotta go. But I’ll see you tomorrow, Evan!” With one last smile, Connor walked away from Evan and towards his sister.

When Evan got home that afternoon, he tossed his bag on the couch and made a beeline for his moms bathroom. She wouldn’t be home till late that night which left Evan with more than enough time to do what he needed to do. He opened Heidi’s medicine cabinet and scanned the contents quickly before finding what he needed; his moms sleeping pills. Unfortunately, the few Xanax Evan had left wouldn’t be enough to do the job. So these pills would be doing the honors.

As Evan reached for the pills, he couldn’t help but notice he used his broken arm. Of course, the first thing that caught his eye was the giant “CONNOR” on it. That’s right. Connor was bringing him cotton candy tomorrow. Evan didn’t know if he was getting pink or blue. With a sigh, Evan closed the cabinet and shuffled back into the living room. He plopped onto the couch and flicked on the tv, playing whatever show just happened to be on there.

Evan would have to wait on those pills for another day. After all, he just had to know what colored cotton candy his friend was giving him. Who wouldn’t want to know something like that?

#I'm sorry about the enormous amount of tags #deh #dear evan hansen #evan hansen #connor murphy #evan #connor #evan x connor #evan hansen x connor murphy #tree bros #convan #treebros #pastel!connor #emo!evan #softmushie #volarfinch #i-also-write #cotton candy and hunters au #do you have one in blue?

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chocolatemillkk · 7 years ago

Text

Kid Brother VI

A/N: It's here! It's finally here! The last chapter. That took ages but I'm done. Read the rest here :)

I sit on the floor of the living room crossed-legged in the small space between the sofa and the coffee table; I tended to do my best work when I was on the ground. I type on the laptop resting on the coffee table as a mute Harry Potter movie plays in the back.

"Oh I forgot to mention," Joe says from where he lay on the sofa behind me. "I found a really funny picture my mum took of the three of us when we were young."

Joe was the only one left staying up late with me-kind of like old times. Zoe and Alfie had left for bed and Mike went home an hour ago.

"I'm not sure if I'm ready to see it," I groan. "I already know your mum's kept all the embarassing photos because she was always taking her camera out."

But I abondon my laptop and perch myself up on the coffee table since Joe hogged the sofa entirely. The screen shows a zoomed in picture of my face next to Joe's on the grass. I'm sticking my tongue out awkwardly and Joe puffs his upper lip like a monkey. As far as embarassing photos went-the pink streak in my hair and sticky pink lip gloss rated pretty high.

"Burn that picture!" I toss the phone onto Joe's chest. "I hated that stupid pink streak I convinced my mum to let me get!"

Joe gets up, laughing. He sits facing me and holds up his phone. "You haven't even seen the best part. Look at Zo!"

He zooms out and Zoe has her eyes crossed and her tongue poking out the side of her mouth. The unexpected addition to our photo forces a giggle from my mouth which leads to a full blown laugh when Joe recreates her funny face. But somehow, Joe still looked good looking doing it. The bags under his eyes were starting to form and his eyes looked tired-I tried to convince him to go to bed-I was used to staying up, but he insisted he wasn't sleepy. Joe Sugg was as stubborn as the day I met him.

"Shhh," I giggle. "Zalfie's sleeping!"

But we crack up anyway, wiping the tears from our eyes and settling back into the quiet night. I drag my laptop up to where I sit and go back to working. Joe stays seated across from me so our knees touch-serving as a good table for my laptop. The clicking of the keys becomes the only sound as I work. I glance at the time: 1:40.

"You can go to bed," I remind Joe.

"I know I can," Joe smiles sleepily at me. "I want to stay up with you. For old time's sake."

"If this was like old times we would have ice cream or crisps and laying on our bellies whispering to not wake your parents."

Joe laughs. "I reckon we can still recreate that. Sometimes I feel like Zalfie are my parents when I come down here."

That makes me laugh. "Don't let them hear you say that!"

I go back to my laptop but I sense Joe is still looking at me. I pause and make eye contact.

"Yeah?" I ask under his curious gaze.

He shakes his head. "How are you still this pretty at 2 in the morning?"

Time feels like it slows to a stop and the only sound I'm aware of is my heartbeat.

"Don't butter me up for a favour," I try to make light of the situation. "If you want me to record another video just ask."

I nudge his knee but the expression doesn't leave his face.

"I know I'm just Zo's brother but I-"

"Please don't do this," I cut Joe off quickly-the realisation already setting in. If Joe was going to confess he had feelings for me I would be over the moon! But that also meant I would have to confess my feelings, and saying them out loud just made it more real...especially saying it to the person involved.

"Just let me. Please. I've carried this around for a long time and if you don't feel the same way that's fine. I just need to get this off my chest so if you don't, I can move on."

I stare at Joe, shocked at the words coming out of him. How long had he felt this way?

"Y/N," he starts, picking up the laptop between us to rest it beside me. "I like you a lot. Honestly, I don't know if I ever saw you as Zoe's friend because the moment you came into our lives I thought you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen. Every girl I liked at school I would just compare them to you-maybe that's why I don't have a girlfriend," Joe chuckles to himself. "Anyway, you were always around. Especiall when your parents were going through their divorce and we got close. You opened up to me and-and I fell hard for you. I wanted to help you fight all your battles back then-I still do."

Joe leans in towards me and I feel the urge to lean away but he moves his hand up to my knee.

"I used to fight with you all the time because I was an idiot. But also cuz I really liked you and it made me angry seeing you date all those dickheads who treated you like shite."

"So you took me to our dance," I whisper.

"I did," Joe's hand is pure heat against my legs and I feel it spreading to the rest of me. His words were a confirmation of what everyone always told me but now I had to believe it. "And of course I had to let you go when you went off for uni in London and you made new friends. I didn't want to ask you out back then and just be your boyfriend from back home. The timing just didn't feel right."

Joe licks his lips and I watch him weigh his words.

"I want you to be mine. And I want to be yours too. I don't know if you just see me as Zoe's kid brother-I really hope you don't or this would be really fricken embarassing-but give us a chance? And-and listen I know you don't date younger-"

"Joe," I stop him from rambling because his nerves were obviously kicking in. "Your timing is fine now. Perfect actually...I would want to be-love to be...I guess...I didn't face the reality until recently," I sigh, bracing myself to finally put these feelings into words. Joe watches me intently. "I really do like you and who you've become these past few years."

The smile spreads slowly on Joe's face-one part relief and nine parts pure joy. I feel the relief too, of not hiding my feelings anymore and admitting the truth out loud. It felt liberating.

"That's good," Joe laughs in relief as he falls against the sofa. "That's good." He repeats.

"It is," I repeat back. It was like we were in a trance now that we confessed for each other our feelings.

"That's really good," Joe remains against the sofa but our knees still burn where they touch.

"Yeah," I can't stop the smile on my face. Joe reaches his hand out to me and sits up straighter.

"Come here," he says. I look at him, almost having an out-of-body experience with everything that'd just happened in the last few minutes. But when I take his hand he tugs me to his lap and it jostles me back into myself. Who cares if Joe was younger than me or any of that? We'd held flames for one another for long enough. We owed it to give it a try.

Joe snakes his hands around my waist and I put an arm around the back of him with another on his chest. We look down at each other-the mood growing very somber. This felt like primary school when your first crush admitted to liking you too and now you were going to sneak a kiss behind the football field. It was like the anticipation of the drop before a roller coaster, the build-up making your heart race and your mind scream to stop but your body ready to hurtle down at full speed. It was also a strange calm, like being at the beach with a storm on the horizon-everything standing absolutely still for a moment; the world stretching out for a small infinity.

Our foreheads come to rest on each other's and there's a lightness in Joe's eyes like a shared joke between us. My hand reaches up to cradle his cheek, brushing the short strands of his hair. His own hand mirrors mine and slowly-so subtly-he brings his lips to mine, and then, we're kissing.

It's a gentle kiss that only two people who hold this much tenderness for one another could have. It's a kiss like one I'd never experienced before and when we break apart we take one look at each other and can't stop laughing. Relief-the kiss confirmed what we'd felt. This was real. This was happening.

Joe's expression grows serious once more as he takes my face in his hands and studies it. He places a gentle kiss on my closed eyes, and then the other, and I allow myself the sensation of being kissed by him, the only one I've ever wanted to kiss. When I open my eyes, Joe gives me a cheeky smile before pulling me in to a passionate kiss.

It's an intense kiss that only two people who have ever wanted each other this bad could have. And we wanted each other, very much.

"Joe," I whisper as he lays me down on the sofa. His hands roam down the sides of my body and his lips take over my neck-sure to leave a mark.

"Hm?" He hums. The sound makes me forget what I was going to say but when his hands slip under my shirt the cold of his hands shocks me into remembering.

"Joe!" I whisper more urgently. "This isn't a good place."

"So come back to my room," he mumbles against my skin and I wanted to do it. Ever cell in my body was screaming in unison yes, do it!

"Not like this," I manage to get out. Joe pauses and looks up at me. He seems to understand what I'm saying because he rolls over to lay beside me.

"Okay," he says after a while. "You're right. I should take you out first. Not shag you on my sister's couch."

I burn bright, "When you put it that way..."

"No, no!" Joe sits up chuckling. "Sorry that's not what I meant. I was just getting carried away but you deserve better-we deserve better. This has been a long time coming. We should ease into it."

I sit up and smush Joe's face against mine in a kiss. He looks confused when I let go.

"We've known each other for years, we don't need to ease into anything! I just meant there'll be a better opportunity for this."

"So you'll come back to my room then?" Joe asks hopefully.

I laugh, "No but I'll spend the remainder of the weekend at yours once we get back to London?"

"I'd love that," he kisses my forehead and we get ourselves to our feet.

"Guess I should put my laptop." I laugh.

"I've been saying that all night," Joe says.

I respond to his I-told-you-so tone by flicking him on the arm. He looks up in shock and tries to get me but I jump back. When he advances, I run as silently as I could to my room so Joe couldn't get me back. I lock the door behind me just to hear footsteps on the staircase. I sense him standing outside my door and then my phone vibrates.

Joe: This isn't the end of that Y/N Watch your back ☠️

I stifle my giggle and respond something equally threatening.

Just because we were now two adults in a relationship wouldn't mean we were going to be adults all the time. It wouldn't be "Joe and Y/N" without a little bit of childishness after all. It was hard to believe there was a "Joe and Y/N" to begin with. But it definitley felt right. And it was about damn time.

#its done!#i cry #the first part was the first thing i posted here?#woo hoo #joe sugg #joe sugg imagine #joe sugg imagines #thatcherjoe imagines #thatcherjoe imagine #thatcherjoe #youtube imagines #buttercream imagines #fic #kidbrother #i rewrote this a million times #there are still things i want to change #but ive had enough #a hard shutdown to perfectionism

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nurseperriestyles-blog · 7 years ago

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Unexpected Things

Desmond sat at the dinner table alone, the newspaper spread out before him, a cup of tea in his hand. It was just past sundown, and he could hear the cicadas screeching loudly in the garden. After a long, hard day in the shop (and a particularly difficult customer not wanting to pay full price for the cabinets he had spent weeks perfecting), Desmond was enjoying the peacefulness of the evening.

He was taken completely aback when his front door swung wide open, and his daughter and nephew stood at the threshold, looking absolutely afright.

Ty was completely disheveled after several days outside of the walls. His hair was unkempt and unwashed, and there were blood and dirt stains all over his clothes. His usual lopsided grin was missing, and his eyes sagged with exhaustion.

Perrie looked even worse. Though her hair was always in some sort of mess, that night it was absolutely unruly. There was a huge knot where her clip had tangled in her bangs, and her waves were stuck out in all directions. The pale, ice blonde of her hair was stained brown and pink...Desmond supposed it was blood. Her clothes were covered in crusty brown splotches and dirt, her knees were haphazardly covered with cotton, with dry blood peeking out from under it. Her face was dirty and her cheeks had streaks running down them from the tears she undoubtedly shed. Her eyes were bloodshot and the bags under her them were almost black. Blood soaked the cracks of her chapped, swollen lips from a bright, angry hole she’d chewed through it. She resembled a child’s ragdoll that had been kicked around in the dirt.

“Rough day?” Desmond asked warily, trying to gauge the severity of the situation.

When the two simply stared at him, he rose from his seat. It took three strides of his long legs to cross the distance between them, and he took Perrie’s face in his hands gently, trying to brush the filth from her cheeks with his thumbs.

“What happened, my girl?” he asked, searching her eyes for an answer. Her lip began to quiver, but she bit down on it.

When Perrie didn’t answer, Ty sighed softly.

“Titans broke through the Walls and got into Trost.” he said, causing Desmond’s eyes to bulge.

“Is there an evacuation? How have I not heard about this?” Desmond asked, looking between the two. “What happened?”

Before Ty could answer, Perrie spoke up. “The hole was sealed.”

Desmond looked at her in bewilderment. “Sealed? How?”

“Eren Yeager turned into a Titan and plugged the hole with a goddamn boulder. I keep telling you, you spend too much time in that shop, Dad.” Perrie laughed as she spoke, realizing how ridiculous it all really was.

Desmond’s brows rose, but he said nothing. Instead, he looked up at Ty, who simply nodded.

“No one knows how, but he can shift into a Titan.” Ty’s voice was more serious than Desmond had ever heard it.

“I..” Desmond struggled for a response. “I honestly have no idea what to say.”

Ty gently ushered Perrie into the house, closing the door behind him. Desmond pulled chairs out for the two, and they all sat down and stared off in different directions.

“They have Eren in custody.” Perrie said after several minutes of silence. “I’m off work tomorrow. I’m going to try to see him.”

“I’d be surprised if they let you.” Desmond replied.

Perrie shook her head. “I have to try.”

There was another long silence.

“Well, I suppose you should go tell your mother you’re home, son.” Desmond sighed, and Ty nodded.

“Yes, sir.” he stood and squeezed Perrie’s shoulder before he left. “Clean up and get some rest, Pear. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure thing.” Perrie’s voice was soft.

“Bye, Uncle Des. I’ll see you.” Ty called as he walked out the door and Desmond nodded back at him.

Desmond waited until Ty was out the door and well on his way before speaking again.

“What are you thinking, my girl?”

Perrie sighed and slumped back against her seat.

“We knew Grisha Yeager for years. Then, today, Eren said his father had some sort of secrets hidden in their basement. We had no idea..” Perrie trailed and Desmond cocked his head.

“So you think Grisha had something to do with Eren’s abilities?” he asked, running a hand over his salt and pepper beard.

“He had to. I just can’t believe this.”

“I admit, I’m still having a hard time myself.” Desmond stood up and walked to the stove, pouring himself more tea. He pulled a cup from the pantry and poured some for Perrie as well.

“Thanks..” she replied, sipping it and closing her eyes as the warm liquid soothed her sore throat.

“I take it you got called out to take care of the wounded?”

“Yeah. They’ll probably need me in tomorrow, but there’s no way I can work with Eren in fucking military custody.”

“They’ve got more than enough on staff; they’ll be alright without you for one day.” Desmond nodded, and Perrie met his eye for the first time that night.

“It may be long term, Dad.”

They stared at each other for a long time before Desmond asked her what she meant.

“Eren is a Titan, Dad.” she stated slowly. “He bites himself and turns into a giant, terrifying monster.” she was talking with her hands patting the table impatiently. “Inside his Titan form, the temperatures are entirely too high for a human to withstand for extended periods of time. The strain it takes on his body is enormous, and who knows what kind of damage it causes his human body. Eren is going to endure many injuries and, most likely, a ton of psychological stress.”

“So, you’re saying he needs a nurse.”

“He needs a damn good nurse.”

“The hospital will be loathe to see you go.” Desmond smiled softly at Perrie, causing a bit of relief to surge through her. She had been afraid Desmond would protest when he realized her intentions. “But how do you plan on making that happen?”

Perrie pulled a face and Desmond laughed.

“You have no idea, do you, my girl?”

“Not yet.” she admitted. “I think my brain is fried after the day I’ve had. Maybe a bath and some sleep will do some good.”

Perrie pushed her chair back and hugged her dad before making her way to the bathroom.

Once he was alone, Desmond stared off into space, thinking about how proud Moria would be of their daughter.

The next morning, Perrie threw on a sky blue cotton dress long enough to hide her busted knees. She used her fingers to pull out the knots in her hair, but the waves refused to behave regardless.

She headed into the kitchen, where her father had laid out the last of her strawberries for her, and as she ate them, a knock at the front door caused her to furrow her brow.

When she opened it, a grinning woman with glasses leaned towards her, causing her to lean back and away from the strange woman.

“So, you’re the nurse, huh? Perrie Styles?” the woman grabbed Perrie’s hand and shook it vigorously. “I’m Hange Zoe, nice to meet ya!”

“Oh, uh, yes..I’m Perrie, the pleasure is all mine.” Perrie replied politely, a nervous smile on her face.

“I’m sure you know why I’m here, huh, Perrie.” Hange draped an arm over Perrie’s shoulder and walked inside, leaving Perrie no choice but to follow.

“I don’t, actually..” Perrie trailed.

Hange simply laughed and looked around the house, making Perrie a bit uncomfortable. Desmond and Perrie lived modestly and their home showed it. The only thing very impressive about their house was the garden in the back yard.

“Nice place, Nurse Perrie!” Hange complemented, making Perrie shift from foot to foot.

“Oh, um, thank you, ma’am.”

Hange looked at Perrie with wide eyes and an even wider smile. “And to think, Levi said you were a pain in the ass! Ha! Shows what he knows, huh?” she nudged Perrie with her elbow. “Anyway, Nurse Perrie, I guess I should explain why I’m here.”

Perrie nodded expectantly, but before Hange could continue, she saw the last strawberry on the table behind Perrie.

“Oh, man! Is that a strawberry? I haven’t seen one of those in ages! The Scouts can’t really afford that kind of luxury, ya know.” she inched closer to the table, but Perrie raised her brows.

“You’re with the Survey Corps?” Perrie asked, turning to pick up the strawberry. Hange squeaked when Perrie held it out for her to take.

“Oh, thank you! Oh, man, Nora is gonna be so jealous.” Hange chuckled maniacally before taking a bite of the strawberry. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Nurse Perrie!”

“It’s not a problem.” Perrie couldn’t help but laugh at the woman.

“Anywho!” Hange finished the strawberry and calmped her hands on Perrie’s shoulders. “I’m here to ask you a few questions about Eren Yeager!” Hange almost moaned Eren’s name, an excited glimmer in her eyes.

Perrie nodded quickly, pulling a chair out for her guest. The two sat across from each other and Hange’s grin spread across her entire face.

“It is my understanding that you’ve known him his whole life, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You knew his father as well?”

Perrie nodded.

“When you worked under him, did he ever tell you anything about the basement? Or was there anything strange about him that you may have noticed?” Hange was serious now, leaning intently towards Perrie.

“No, ma’am. Our relationship was very professional and we hardly ever spoke of anything except medicine.” Perrie explained. “I was much closer to Eren and his mother, Carla.” saying her name stung a little.

“She is dead, correct?” Hange asked simply, causing Perrie to grip the hem of her dress tightly, but she didn’t show any discomfort on her face.

“Correct.”

“Do you think she knew anything about what was in the basement?”

Perrie considered the question for a few moments, but ultimately shook her head.

“No. Carla was an ordinary, sweet housewife. There’s no way she could have known anything.” Perrie shook her head as she spoke and Hange frowned.

“And Doctor Yeager was an ordinary, sweet doctor that everyone trusted and never would have guessed he had some hidden agenda and a dark secret stashed in his basement..yet here we are.” Hange shrugged and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, we don’t know that for sure--” Perrie tried to protest, but Hange gave her a skeptical look.

“Don’t we? I mean, he gave his son a key to their basement and told him, and I quote, ‘I’ll finally show you what’s in the basement.’ And now his kid can turn into a Titan on command.”

Perrie scrunched up her nose, but couldn’t argue. Hange watched her for a moment before smiling.

“I know you were close to them, I’m sorry for being so blunt.”

“It’s fine, really. I understand where you’re coming from. It’s just hard to wrap my head around. Watching Eren turn into--”

Before she could finish, Hange was laying across the table, her fists gripping Perrie’s collar. Hange’s face was inches away from Perrie’s, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

“You saw it?” she asked, her voice low and laced with jealousy. “Please, tell me everything. What was it like? How did he look when he came out? Was he hurt or seriously maimed?”

Perrie pried Hange’s hands off of her and laughed nervously.

“I--um, no..he was unconscious, but fine, considering..”

“Ugh! I cannot wait to meet him! Do you think they’ll let me dissect him when he dies? Ohhh, I can’t wait.” her voice got higher and higher until she was practically singing, and Perrie scowled.

“Hey, now! Don’t say that!” she snapped, causing Hange to look slightly abashed.

“Sorry, sorry. I just get so excited. It’s not everyday you meet someone who can turn into a Titan! Imagine what this means for science.” Hange was serious again, but before Perrie could answer, the front door opened and Ty stepped in. When he noticed Hange, he snapped into a salute, a smile on his face and his brows raised.

“Squad Leader Hange, good morning.” he greeted her, relaxing when she waved him off.

“Ty Styles! Nice to see ya.” Hange smiled at him as he took a seat next to Hange. “I was just asking your--” she trailed off, looking between the two of them.

“Cousin.” they replied together.

“Cousin! I was just asking your cousin about Eren Yeager.”

Ty nodded and smiled over at Perrie. “Were you able to tell her anything useful, Pear?”

Perrie shrugged. “I don’t think so, honestly.”

“No, I believe you did. From what you’ve told me, I think it’s safe to assume Eren has always been a normal kid, and that no one, not even himself, knew of his abilities until now. I do not think he means mankind any harm at all.”

Perrie sank back in her chair and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Buuuuut, that’s just me and my opinion means next to nothing compared to the higher ups, ya know?” Hange added, rubbing the back of her head.

“We have to convince them, then. I was just about to go see if I could see him before you came.”

“They haven’t even let Commander Erwin see him yet; there’s no way a nobody like you will get to.” said Hange.

Perrie tried to hide her disappointment, but the ever observant Ty noticed and gave her hand a squeeze.

“Commander Erwin won’t let anything happen to him, Pear.” he said, but Perrie sighed.

“You don’t know that for sure, though. I’ve met and taken care of tons of the Military Police; they’re fucking ass--”

“Perrie!” Ty cut in, giving her a sharp look.

“Well, it’s true..” she mumbled, looking away.

Hange guffawed and clapped Ty on the back. “There’s that mouth Levi was telling me about! I like this kid, Ty. Why have you been hiding her from me?”

Ty laughed softly and shook his head.

“I’ll tell ya what, Nurse Perrie. Commander Pyxis told me that you have a really strong connection to the three Shiganshina kids. He said you insisted Eren have a medical professional with him at all times. I agree with that, and I think Commander Erwin would, too..” Hange paused, looking thoughtful, and Perrie sat up straight and looked at her imploringly.

“Erwin and Levi are going to try and get custody of the kid. I think I can talk to them and get them to assign you to Eren, full time.”

Ty and Perrie looked at each other with smiles, though Ty’s was a bit nervous.

“I would appreciate that very much, ma’am.” Perrie said, taking Hange’s hand and gripping it tightly.

“I won’t make any promises, though. And it will be a pain to convince Levi, but I think I will be able to pull it off.” Hange nudged Ty. “Plus, Erwin is pretty fond of Ty here, so maybe that will have some sway, huh?”

Ty beamed, his eye lighting up at the mention of Erwin’s fondness of him, and Perrie’s heart warmed. She knew how much that meant to him, for Ty admired Erwin Smith greatly.

“Alright, you two, I should probably be off. It may be a few days before you hear from me again, Perrie, but I’ll keep you up to date. I’ll see you when you report back to base, Ty.” Hange stood and headed for the door, waving and smiling back at Ty and Perrie.

Perrie rose and went to open the door for her, and Ty rose to salute her one last time.

“Thank you again, ma’am.” Perrie said before closing the door behind Hange.

Hange ruffled Perrie’s hair. “No problem, just do me one teeny-tiny favor.”

“Of course!”

“Stop calling me ‘ma’am.’”

#perrie styles #aot oc #aot fic #snk oc #snk fic #oc x canon #levi x oc

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tsurumitokushiro · 8 years ago

Text

Get to Know Me Tag

RULES: Answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people

I was tagged by @droid-to-the-world, thank you so much my dude!!! I love these things

I’m gonna put it under a cut bc it’s long

LAST:

1. Drink: a strawberry kiwi Capri Sun

2. Phone Call: my grandma

3. Text message: my dad

4. Song you listened to: Reunion of Friends by John Williams

5. Time you cried: I cry like every day so not a clue

HAVE YOU:

6. Dated someone twice: djhgdjghd I’m a single pringle I’ve never dated before

7. Kissed someone and regretted it: nope

8. Been cheated on: nope

9. Lost someone special: yes

10: Been depressed: of course

11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: I'm under 21 and am kinda responsible so no

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS:

12-14. Sapphire blue, mint green, mango yellow

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. Made new friends: yup!

16. Fallen out of love: sort of?

17. Laughed until you cried: yessss

18. Found out someone was talking about you: yes

19. Found out who your friends are: yeah?

20. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: I don’t have Facebook

GENERAL:

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: don’t have Facebook

23. Do you have any pets: I have a dog named Lucy and a cat named Buffy

24. Do you want to change your name: yes, the name I have on this blog is clearly not the one my parents gave me

25. What did you do for your last birthday: I had a sleepover with my closest friends

26. What time do you wake up: depends

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: attempting to fall asleep

28. Name something you can’t wait for: the day that I get credit for everything I do for people

29. When was the last time you saw your mom: Like fifteen minutes ago

30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: I wish that I hadn’t taken part in the event that lead to an eventual falling out with a formerly close friend, because I didn’t really want to go to it anyway and I regret not staying home

31. What are you listening to right now: Angel On the Wing from the Wonder Woman soundtrack

32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: yes, multiple Toms over the course of my life

33. Something that is getting on your nerves: uhhh a lot of things?? Politics, shampoo, the fact that Kathleen Kennedy works for Lucasfilm

34. Most visited website: Tumblr

35. Moles: one on my left cheek, 7 on my right arm, 3 on my left arm, 2 on my right leg, 1 on my left leg

36. Marks: I have a giant scar on my right forearm that looks like a mole, but its’ actually a mosquito bite that I picked at for a year. I also have four scars further up on the same arm in a kite formation and I still don’t know what they’re from (I CAN TAKE A PICTURE TO PROVE IT, IT’S REALLY WEIRD). I also have bruises/scars from self-harm on the same arm as well. My face is absolutely covered in acne scars and pimples, as well as my chest and back. I used to have a really big, bright red/pink birthmark on my upper lip but it’s since faded. I have a scar from falling in gravel and tearing my knee open at age 4, too.

37. Childhood dream: Same as it still is. I want to be a writer.

38. Hair color: Brown, but I used to be blonde when I was really little

39. Long hair or short: Mine is short

40. Do you have a crush on someone: Sofia Boutella, Gina Torres, Eliza Dushku, Dichen Lachman, Daisy Ridley, Zoe Saldana, Gal Gadot, Lupita N’yongo, so on and so forth (they’re all celebrities, I haven’t crushed on somebody I know personally in a long time)

41. What do you like about myself: Physically? My shoulders. Personality-wise? Uhhhhhhhhhh my cheerfulness and leadership abilities

42. Piercings: Well. Long story. Let’s just say not anymore.

43. Blood type: not a clue

44. Nicknames: Spocky, Scully, Mulder, A5, Alan, Tina, Rosie (nobody uses this one anymore, Rose is my middle name so that’s what I was called as a small child), Leonard (I MISHEARD MY FRIEND), Ernie, Wash, Jim is short for James so I suppose that counts

45. Relationship status: Single Pringle

46. Zodiac: Aries/Sheep

47. Pronouns: They/them

48. Favorite TV Show: Doctor Who

49. Right or left hand: Right

50. Surgery: I had surgery last year to remove embedded teeth, and I will need surgery within the next few years for wisdom teeth. Beyond that, not sure if there’s any in my future or not.

51: Hair dyed a different color: I once got a green streak and I’m thinking about being a blonde again

52. Sport: BASEBALL

53. Vacation: One of my two dream vacations may be achieved this summer! I might be going to Riverside, Iowa, and then I want to go to San Diego Comic Con

54. Pair of trainers: all of my shoes except two are trainers... I’ve got blue high-top Nikes, and then 4 pairs of Converse (the other two pairs are some fancy preppy shoes and then sandals)

MORE GENERAL:

57. Eating: Nothing at the moment but I had ham like an hour ago

58. Drinking: Nothing since last night

60. Want: to feel more like it’s summer, and also my new frames to come

61. Get married: I really don’t know

62. Career: I want to write and maybe act. I’m also going to flight school after I get my drivers’ license.

63. Hugs or kisses: HUGS. I love hugs.

64. Lips or eyes: Eyes

65. Shorter or taller: I’m literally 5′1″

66. Older or younger: in preference, idk

67. Nice arms or nice stomach: Both, but more importantly, nice personality

68. Sensitive or loud: sensitive, I’m loud enough as it is

69. Hook up or relationship: Relationship

70. Troublemaker or hesitant: hesitant

HAVE YOU EVER:

74. Kissed a stranger: no

75. Drank hard liquor: NO

76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: thank goodness no

77. Turned someone down: yes

78. Sex on the first date: N O

79. Broken someone’s heart: I don’t know

80. Had your heart broken: no

81. Been arrested: no

82. Cried when someone died: yeah

83. Fallen for a friend: unfortunately

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

84. Yourself: Maybe?? Idk

85. Miracles: not really

86. Love at first sight: not really

87. Santa Claus: nope

88. Kiss on the first date: no, not really

OTHER:

90. Current best friend name: Lila

91. Eye color: hazel

92. Favorite movie: DO NOT make me choose

I’m s’posed to tag 20 people but I’m lazy so

@lieutenant-sapphic

@mountaindyke

@wesleyknope

@chameleon-kirk

@friendraichu

@reaverattack

@sexual-kakuzu

@stevtrevr

@kira-nerys

and whoever else wants to do it! You don’t have to do it if you don’t want

#WHOOF THAT WAS LONG BUT FUN #oh boy #tag games #self harm tw

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chvrchesrp · 8 years ago

Photo

Welcome to CHVRCHES’ seventh event!

The Centennial Ball is our second choice event, in which we set a scene and split your characters up into groups dependent on how many points you’ve acquired so far. Once in that setting, you can create threads as you see fit for your muse. The settings and information shared in this post are considered game canon, whether or not you explore it deeply. While this event will have its own shocker of an ending, during the first part, we want to let you guys explore the ball and have some fun.

The date stamp for the event is Saturday, March 25th. Be sure to include that in your posts for timeline purposes—though you aren’t restricted to beginning them the 25th, of course—you can even begin them today ♥ Long post ahead:

The night blooms with possibility. The columns beckon you in, as if you were always meant to be among the shining throng of those blessed with prosperity and good fortune. The air smells of sandalwood and a hint of jasmine, just enough to tantalize the senses, but exceedingly subtle. The windows are draped in expensive fineries: promise and nostalgia. The mansion normally calls to mind many things, but tonight, it feels literally like walking into a dream, another world, a parallel universe where anything can happen—and might. You retain control but everything around you feels... gorgeous and precious and fleeting, where anything can be yours reach out to touch it. Indeed, everything here is meant to be touched, tasted, enjoyed. It is a party big enough to be intimate: privacy among all of the moving bodies, nobody listening too closely—a party meant for masks, for indulging in your innermost desires and curiosities, with no one the judge or jury. It's freedom—for a night.

What do you do with it?

"In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars..."

When you enter the entryway, you take in the setting: the stairs that wind themselves upward on either side, the glass doors straight through that open onto the veranda and the salt water pools beyond. There are fireplaces and corridors, but you've been instructed, just for now, to wait. That the waiting makes everything sweeter, the anticipation, the curiosity for the unknown almost so tantalizingly knowable. You were given a loose blindfold to tie over your mask when you entered, told you would know when to use it. The music is alive around you; there is a balcony with the sounds of a live band playing electroswing, the perfect mix of modern dance and 1920s memories. Caro Emerald croons into a dated looking microphone, her hair as perfect as her smile, singing A Night Like This. Slowly, two silhouettes make themselves known at the top and center of the stairs.

Front and center is Renee Thornton, Vice of the Church of Sinners, here in all her regalia to present the evening at its finest. Her black gossamer dress is adorned with swarovski detailing, setting her to shimmer like a dark jewel in the center of the pale hall. Behind her stands Lucifer, his arm out with hers regally on top of it, as a proper escort. His suit is finely tailored, but understated. There are hints of gold in the cufflinks, the tie bar, but overall he is a man whose suit is class. He smiles brightly at the crowd as Renee gives a welcoming speech, speaking with pride about the hundred years the Church has been active, has grown to one of the three largest in the world. Only when she is done, do the two share the first dance. Then Renee invites everyone to put on their blindfolds; each person is led into a room, thereafter able to remove their blindfold and experience the evening.

Six people are left in the entryway:

Babylon, Maria, Magda, Elijah, Adele, and Renee.

As the people with the highest amount of points (14 apiece), these muses are free to roam about the cabin, as it were. They can go to whatever room intrigues them: the choice is theirs and theirs alone. The one offer they are given is this: For the price of 24 points total, one person can make a request of Lucifer with no strings attached. (Think of it like the Godfather on the wedding day.) The caveat is that it must be a defined favour, not one to be owed at a future date. Determine which person should ask it of him, who contributes which points, and what should be asked for.

Special Notes: Elijah will willingly sell his soul tonight.

The rest are moved into one of 7 rooms upstairs: (There are 3 people per room; we ask you try to thread with each person, if possible, so 2 threads per player—try to use this as an exercise to engage in ways they might not usually, given the scenario, and branch out who you write with, if the scene doesn’t come naturally. You won’t be held to this, but we would encourage it! After you do at least one thread start in your room, you can move to other rooms to do as you will.)

Evening Notes: Do not drink more than one bottle without discussing with Admins first (some effects clash!), so choose your first bottle carefully! The effects will only last for the night.

ENVY

Leviathan (0), Shibah (1), Abaddon (3)

This room is an octagon. Once inside, it appears as though there is no way out of it. Each wall is a 2-way mirror, so while those on the outside can't see in, everyone inside of it can see out. One wall shows the pale hall, but all of the others show glimpses of the other rooms that everyone else can enjoy—but all you can do is watch, and envy, and figure out how to open the door without a handle. The room is empty apart from a small glass table with legs in the shape of snakes, not unlike the feel of Alice in Wonderland, with a series of stoppered bottles on it. Some are pearlescent and shimmery, marked with "trip" - others are gold and sparkling, marked "fortuna." If your muse elects to drink one, let an Admin know so you know what surprises are in store...

WRATH

Cassiel (3), Olivia (4), Donato (7)

Special Notes: Tonight, Lucifer has released his grasp from Olivia. She will feel better than she has since she can remember—not only is she no longer sick, she’s no longer possessed. The weight in her chest, the pressure behind her eyes, and all of those things have suddenly disappeared on entry.

This room has a taxidermied lion in it, appearing to weep diamonds, at the center. Beside it is a small table with stoppered bottles on it: some are a deep, fiery red that looks viscous, marked “furia” and the others are a pale, translucent gold with red flecks, marked “invicta.” If your muse elects to drink one, let an Admin know so you know what surprises are in store... Elsewhere in the room, there are things that cause and accept damage. An expensive looking couch and a chainsaw; a baseball bat and a computer; a fine china cabinet near a wall covered in small spikes; other things of this nature. Also found, for those feeling a bit—darker—is a ‘confessional’ behind a curtain, where a cat o’nine and paddles and whips and a ball gag could be found.

GREED

Noah (7), Satan (7), Grace (7)

This room’s wallpaper is damask, but the subtle pattern in it is that of a toad watching over all of the festivities. The room is a miniature casino; a dealer is at the ready with high-stakes blackjack. There’s a roulette wheel asking you to name your wager: anything but money. There’s a slot machine where the prize—should you be so lucky as to win—is a LaFerrari Aperta. Drinks are freely offered, champagne and rocks glasses move throughout the space, and among those glasses—if you can spot one—are small, stoppered bottles. A few are pearlescent and purple, marked “lotus,” others are marked “streak” and are as green as money, swirled with pale notes of tan. If your muse elects to drink one, let an Admin know so you know what surprises are in store...

SLOTH

Naomi (7), Dominic (9), Kezia (9)

This room plays to the dreamscape. The windows are open, the sheer curtains billow like clouds, the entire floor is plush and soft. The ceiling is painted like the night sky. There are soft blankets, a loveseat draped in suede, a fainting couch for reclining. Soothing sounds play the ocean lapping at the tides. There is a sand box—yes, a literal sand box—in one corner to enjoy playing in, or just running your hands through the grains and relaxing. There is a masseuse offering hand and foot rubs, and another person available to feed you grapes. There is a small cabinet with a snail-shaped latch against a wall that houses some stopped bottles: some are aqua and glittery, marked “lucid,” others are swirly seafoam coloured, marked “tranquil.” If your muse elects to drink one, let an Admin know so you know what surprises are in store...

LUST

Ethan (10), Isadora (10), Zoe (10)

Of course there’s a bed, of course there is, and it’s round on every side except for the headboard, which is intricately carved mahogany with a scene of a goat grazing. The entire room is, in effect, a master bedroom—there’s the bed, yes, but also a fireplace and a beautiful crystal chandelier. There’s a small banquet by the window of aphrodisiacs: a chocolate fountain with bananas and strawberries; oysters and artichokes; figs and honey. There’s a table laid out with items to experience sensuality: a feather teaser, rose petals, whipped cream, body dust, reams of soft rope, massage oils, swathes of satin and faux fur. The armoire has lingerie and other attire inside of it of a wide variety. And of course, there’s the milk bath in the ornate claw-foot tub. Around the tub are small stoppered bottles, one hot pink and thick, marked “rouge,” and another “adora,” which is syrupy and red. If your muse elects to drink one, let an Admin know so you know what surprises are in store...

GLUTTONY

Raziel (11), Jairus (11), Crowley (11)

This room actually has an alive, small piglet in it for your company and enjoyment. Please don’t hurt her, her name is Maenad, but by all means pet her. The room is its own banquet hall; the center and import of the room is a long, carefully carved and imported table upon which a black silk cloth is laid, so that the food stands out upon it. Not only is there an endless array of all kinds of sumptuous foods—anything you could want—it’s all taken great care to look as good as it tastes. Plating is superb and each dish that holds food was chosen with care, with its own luxuries. The seats are so comfortable, you may never want to get up. There are two people, naked, who are hired as waiters—but who have also consented to let you eat off of them, if you desire. They each hold a tray with stoppered bottles: one sort is pure white, like milk, with small red flecks and marked “snow,” another is mixed gold glitter in syrupy berry coloured liquid, marked “harvest.” If your muse elects to drink one, let an Admin know so you know what surprises are in store...

PRIDE

Belial (12), Kiara (12), Isaiah (13)

Pride is an old-style smoking lounge of the early 1900s. It doesn’t smell because it’s incredibly well ventilated; inside are soft leather chairs, velvet curtains, and a small Turkish antique weapons collection. Smoking jackets are available for any who might enjoy to don them. There is a wall dedicated to expensive wines and the glasses that go with them to accordingly enjoy, as well as after-dinner drinks like brandies and cognacs. Of course, a wide variety of cigars are available to try, as well as hookahs in a range of flavours and bases. There are rare pieces of art on the walls and all the marks of those who have lived life well. The centerpiece around which the art is displayed is an arrangement of peacock feathers. In this room, there is an intercom, and anything reasonable will be delivered to you on request. The stoppered bottles in this room are pure gold, marked “prima,” or like black ink, marked “securitas.” If your muse elects to drink one, let an Admin know so you know what surprises are in store...

At 2am, a shock moves through the mansion. Details on why will be revealed to you on Sunday. Enjoy!

#chvrchesrp #lsrpg #original rp #bio rp #literate rp #event #event 007

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zoe-oneesama · 4 years ago

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Zoe with the ladybug miraculous??

This is the joy of sharing a name with a character. Like, did you mean me, or...?

Also please enjoy this alternative for Zoé’s “antennae” situation that made me laugh:

Lookin’ gooooood.

Ko-fi | Patreon

#I don't hate the idea of colored streaks I just hate the way it's executed in the show particularly in black #zoe's pink streaks look good actually #also my own hair is weird because I'm growing out an undercut #think 'Don Bluth Anastasia' where her hair is so short in her first muscal number #but it's long the rest of the movie #zoe #ml #miraculous ladybug #my art #ladybug!zoe #kwami swap #jellykittenblog

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pickalilywrites · 6 years ago

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Could I request a friendship story where Eren, Jean, Sasha, Mikasa, Historia and Marco are in detection and Eren and Jean are up to their shenanigans and the teacher in charge comes in to bust them?

tfw u write a fic about an odd assortment of 6 angsty teens only for it to turn into a hannes appreciation fic

This Isn’t the Breakfast Club

104th Trainee Squad. High School AU.

3430 words.

Buy me a ko-fi!

Eren hardly waits for Mr. Dawk, the teacher who’s supposed to be looking after them in detention, before he turns around in his seat to smirk at the other unfortunate students who were sentenced to Saturday school with him. Although his peers look glum, Eren looks almost giddy about being in detention. It’s only apparent why when he opens his mouth and asks, “So, is this like the Breakfast Club or what?”

“Only an idiot like you would be excited about getting detention,” Jean mutters under his breath. Mr. Dawk had purposely sat the two hot-headed teens across the room from each other, but distance does little to prevent them from clashing. Jean lifts his head from his hands and tells Eren, “This isn’t a John Hughes film, Jaeger.”

“No, but it could be,” Eren says, not at all bothered by Jean. He rises from his seat, sitting on his desk instead. He grins mischievously at the others who are seated in the room – Mikasa, Marco, Historia, Sasha. “We have all the necessary players too. The jock, the brain, the princess, the weirdo, the handsome rebel,” Eren says, pointing at all of his friends and then back at himself. When he finally gets to Jean, he smirks, “…and the asshole.”

“I don’t remember that being a character in the Breakfast Club,” Jean growls. He begins to rise from his seat, but Marco interrupts them.

“We’re already in detention,” Marco mumbles. He looks nervously at the door as if he expects to see Mr. Dawk walk in at any moment. “It’d probably be best if we didn’t get into any more trouble.”

Sasha smiles at Marco, reaching over her desk to give him a pat on the shoulder. “Oh, Marco. You’re so new to this. It’s like you’re a baby,” she sighs. “Mr. Dawk usually doesn’t come into the classroom unless he thinks we’re up to no good, like if he hears an explosion or whatever. He likes staying holed up in his office where he can send emails to his wife telling her how much he loves her.”

Marco looks over at Jean and mouths, “Emails?”

“Yeah, so we can do whatever we like,” Eren says. He taps his fingers on the chair in front of him and looks eagerly at everyone. “What do you guys want to do? Confess secrets? Share hidden talents? Dance on tabletops? I don’t mind going out of order.”

“I actually liked Sixteen Candles better,” Mikasa says quietly.

“Then let’s do Sixteen Candles!” Eren says. He jumps from the desk and strolls between the aisles. He stops by Historia’s desk and taps on it. “Historia, do you have one of those flower crowns in your locker still?”

“Nope.” The petite blonde doesn’t look up at him. She’s busy painting her nails a light shade of pink. After she’s finished with a nail, she looks up briefly at him as she blows on the polish. “I gave all of mine away after everyone started copying me. It was like they all wanted to form some sort of flower crown cult. Creepy.”

“Ooh, we could do Ferris Bueller,” Sasha says, clasping her hands together. She’s already bouncing up and down in her chair as she thinks of what they could do. “We could skip detention entirely. Maybe we could even go to an amusement park!”

“Sasha, I love the way you think,” Eren says, grabbing her hands and holding them in his.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea…,” Marco says.

The other three must be used to this because they only roll their eyes as Eren and Sasha continue their fruitless plotting.

“Marco’s right,” Jean says, interrupting Eren and Sasha’s conversation. He finally gets up from his desk, strolling over to where the two plotting students are. “It’s not a great idea. Do you remember what happened last time?”

“Yeah,” Sasha says, nodding enthusiastically. “Eren and I got to reenact all the dances from High School Musical around the school. You know one of our videos got a ton of likes?”

Eren wraps an arm around Sasha’s shoulders and grins at Jean. “It was totally worth the two extra weeks of detention after we got caught.”

“You mean you guys have done this before?” Marco looks pale as a sheet at just the thought of being so rebellious. He seems to have forgotten that these people aren’t necessarily forcing him to join them.

“Let’s do Dirty Dancing next!” Sasha says excitedly. She looks over at Mikasa from across the room. “Mikasa, come and catch me!” She hardly even waits for Mikasa to turn around before running towards the other girl, leaping confidently towards her. To no one’s surprise, Mikasa catches her easily in her arms, lifting Sasha as easily as Patrick Swayze lifted Jennifer Grey during the final scene of the movie.

“Really?” Historia huffs under her breath. She looks up grumpily at Sasha who had nearly knocked a bottle of polish off the blonde girl’s desk when she had taken that leap.

“Eren, did you get that?” Sasha asks. She turns to Mikasa and gives her a big kiss on her forehead. “That was wonderful!”

“Yup! It was great!” Eren says, giving her a thumbs up. To Jean, he whispers, “I didn’t get any of that.”

“Okay,” Sasha says. As Mikasa lowers the brunette down, holding her friend like a bride, Sasha looks over at Eren with a goofy grin on her face and asks, “What’s next?”

“Hack into emails?” Historia suggests, looking up. It’s surprising that she’s proposing anything – she usually just tags along – but she must be bored of watching her nails dry. “Maybe Mr. Ackerman has something interesting in his inbox today.”

“Doubtful,” Mikasa says, rolling her eyes. When the literature teacher had begun teaching at the high school, many had been guessing his relation – if he had any at all – to Mikasa. She quickly informed her schoolmates that he was a distant cousin of hers and that she didn’t care for him at all. “That guy’s so boring. In his spare time, he finds a new way to rearrange his bookshelf – color, author, title, Dewey decimal. Unsurprisingly, his favorite’s the Dewey decimal.” The corner of her lip twitches upward when she sees the confusion on her friends’ faces. “I know.”

“So, breaking into emails is out,” Eren says. He’s at the whiteboard at the front of the room, testing out markers by drawing colorful swirls on the white surface. He decides on a purple marker and looks back at his friends. “What else have you guys got?”

“We could change our grades on that last history exam,” Jean mumbles. He frowns as he remembers the abysmally low score that was emblazoned in red at the top of his test. “That grading was ridiculous.”

Marco’s head in his hands. Despite not really being a part of their schemes, he looks horribly conflicted. “Why does it always have to be something illegal? Why can’t we just play cards or something?” He says it quietly under his breath, but Eren still manages to hear him.

“Ah, it’s just that it’s more fun this way. We tried playing poker once, but Jean got mad and flipped a desk over. We’re not allowed to have cards in here anymore,” Eren tells Marco. He puts a hand up just as Jean is about to argue with him. “And we’ve talked about this. Everyone else has agreed that no one cheated. You’re just a sore loser, Kirstein.”

Jean doesn’t look as if he agrees, but he doesn’t say anything. He just slams his fist on the table and then sucks in the side of his cheek to keep from whining about the pain.

“And besides,” Historia adds, “we tried the whole ‘bonding’ thing. It turns out that it’s not like the Breakfast Club at all. We’re not troubled teens. We’re all just assholes.”

“Most of us are anyway,” Sasha says, but it’s unclear whether she’s referring to herself or someone else. She scoots her seat over to Marco and pats him reassuringly on the shoulder. “It’s alright, Marco. You don’t have to be a part of our shenanigans unless you want to. Although, Dawk might just punish you if the rest of us get caught. Everyone talks about how harsh Shadis is, but Dawk has a sadistic streak somewhere inside of him.”

“Let’s switch all the teacher’s stuff. I bet Levi’ll freak when he sees Zoe’s little knick-knacks cluttering up his desk,” Mikasa says. She looks almost gleeful, and there’s a mischievous glimmer in her eye. “And if we manage to sneak one of her rodents into his desk, I bet he’d lose it.”

“Or – or!” Sasha says. She raises her voice so suddenly that Eren stops in the middle of writing down Mikasa’s proposal to turn around and look at her. She’s so excited that she’s practically jumping out of her seat, walking up to the board so she can propose her plan to Eren. “Or we can raid the cafeteria!”

Jean furrows his brow. “Again?”

“Yeah,” Historia says with a similar expression on her face. “Didn’t we just do that like two detentions ago?”

“You guys have stolen from the cafeteria before?” Marco says in a horrified whisper, but they all ignore him.

“Wait a second,” Eren says, holding out a hand. “Let her finish.”

“They have chocolate pudding this week!” Sasha says, bouncing up and down.

“Jackpot!” Eren holds his hand up for a high-five with Sasha, who gladly reciprocates.

Marco looks around, waiting for one of the others to express their disapproval of the plan, but everyone else looks as if they’re on board. Mikasa is nodding, Jean is smiling, and even Historia looks a little excited.

“Alright, everyone in?” Eren walks in front of the teacher’s desk and puts his hand out. Everyone else follows suit, rising from their seats and placing their hands on his. The group is almost complete save for one person. Eren looks up expectantly at Marco. “Are you in, Bodt? No pressure.”

He should feel relieved that he doesn’t have to be a part of this, and he truly doesn’t feel any pressure to join them. He can just sit at his desk like he was ordered to, but then he’d have to undergo a brutal interrogation if Dawk happened to come back and found that the rest of the students under his care had disappeared. He might as well just do this.

“Alright,” Marco says with a sigh. He places his hand on top of all of theirs. “I’m in.”

“Awesome!” Eren grins. He’s about to turn around and lead them to their treasure – in this case, school-grade chocolate pudding (which is probably the best food that the school has to offer when it comes to school lunches) – when the door opens.

Crap, Marco thinks. Caught already. It’s a little bit of a relief for them to be caught now instead of during their thievery. Maybe they can come up with a reason they were all huddled together – playing Uno, comparing hand sizes, or some cult ritual – but Marco’s sure that Dawk would only think they were making excuses. He looks up expecting to see their teacher fuming at the doorway, but he’s surprised to see Mr. Hannes, the custodian. He’s never really had a personal encounter with the man before. He’s only seen the man scrubbing the halls after school or wiping down cafeteria tables as lunch is ending. He has no idea if Hannes is short-tempered or slow to anger, but he’s thinking it might be the latter from the ecstatic smiles that his peers are giving the custodian.

“Hannes!” Eren says. He must be familiar with the custodian because he holds his arms out wide, wrapping the blond man up in a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, just checking in to see what kind of trouble you rascals are getting up to,” Hannes says. He gives Mikasa a one-armed hug and greets the others with a wave. He looks over at the board where Eren has written up the plan for this week’s detention, guffawing when he sees the cafeteria heist that is circled in red. “Raiding the cafeteria again? Didn’t you all get caught the last time you did that?”

“Yes, and it was totally worth it,” Sasha grins. She licks her lips as she recalls the scrumptious food they had stolen last time. “Coffee cake? It’s even better when it’s stolen on a Saturday morning.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say it was worth it,” Historia says amusedly. “They did ban coffee cake from our school until we graduate.”

Hannes lets out a low whistle. “That’s rough,” he says with a lopsided grin. He sticks his hands in his pockets. “Hopefully this makes it better, though.” Marco’s eyes nearly pop out of his head when he sees all the chocolate pudding cups that Hannes pulls out of his coat pockets.

“Hannes!” Sasha’s eyes are as big as saucers as she stares at the desserts set in front of her. There are eight laid out – one for everyone and three for Sasha. “How did you manage to get these?”

“Ah, just talked to Agnes and convinced her to sell me a couple for some hungry kids in detention,” Hannes says with a shrug. He pats Sasha’s head when she gives him an excited bear hug. “I thought it would be easier than you guys stealing it.”

“You’re too thoughtful, Hannes,” Mikasa says with a smile, leaning against a desk. “What did any of us ever do to deserve you at this school?”

“If I didn’t have any of you kids to clean up after, I wouldn’t have a job, would I?” Hannes laughs. He looks over at Marco and gives the freckled boy a friendly nod. “Haven’t seen this guy around here before though.”

“He’s new to detention. Marco Bodt, probably the second biggest nerd in this school behind Armin,” Jean says, throwing an arm around Marco. He gives Marco a crooked grin. “Maybe we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other later, huh?”

Marco freezes underneath his classmate’s arm. Sure, these people are nice. He’s had a few group projects with them, and they always manage to pull their own weight, but Marco’s not sure he wants to bond with them every Saturday morning in detention. Sure, the Breakfast Club is a great movie, but he’s not sure he’d feel the same way about it if he had to relive it every week.

“Nah, leave the poor kid alone,” Hannes laughs. He sits down on the teacher’s desk, gesturing for Marco to sit beside him. “These kids, Marco,” Hannes says with a sigh as Marco reluctantly joins him. He gestures at the four students that stand in front of them. “They’re good kids, Marco. Don’t be afraid of them. But don’t waste your Saturdays here when you could be doing something else.”

“Aw, are you disappointed in us, Hannes?” Eren jokes.

“Nah, I kind of like seeing you kids in here.” Hannes ruffles Eren’s head and the boy gives him a grin. “I just think your folks would be pretty disappointed about you kids sitting here withering away when you could be outside studying or just having fun. You think your parents like having you in here?”

Marco’s surprised to see his peers hanging their heads. Even when Mr. Dawk had lectured all of them an hour ago, none of them had seemed the slightest bit ashamed. They had all either looked out the window or stared straight past Mr. Dawk. Even Marco hadn’t felt very bad, only annoyed about being stuck in a room and lumped together with the regular troublemakers. Now listening to Mr. Hannes’ words and being reminded of his own family and his mother’s disappointed expression when he had told her he would be spending time at school on Saturday morning. He hates seeing that look on her face.

“Well, my parents don’t give a shit,” Historia says with a toss of her golden hair. She looks a little smug about being guilt-free, smirking over at her friends who are clearly rethinking their life choices.

Hannes looks over at the girl and raises his eyebrow. “And Frieda?”

Historia blinks in surprise, her mouth opening slightly at the mention of her older sister. She’s about to reply, perhaps say something smart to show that she doesn’t care about her sibling’s opinion, but her bottom lip quivers. In the end, she closes her mouth and casts her eyes downward along with the rest of her friends.

“You’re all good kids,” Hannes says softly. He pushes himself off the desk and stands in front of them, arms outstretched. Mikasa and Eren are the first to go to him, allowing him to envelop them all in a group hug. The others join them as well – Jean, Historia, Sasha – and even Marco finds himself wrapped up in it as well. “You all just have to do better.”

“Well, I don’t know if we can, but we can definitely try,” Eren laughs.

“Then I’ll take that.” Hannes gives them an extra squeeze before letting go. He takes a glance at the clock on the wall and sighs. “Well, I should get going. I still have a few classrooms to vacuum and clean up. Don’t make too much trouble for Dawk, alright?”

“Yes, sir!” they tell him, sending him off with a cheeky salute and a wave. They watch as he disappears down the end of the hall into a classroom before settling down back at the front of the room.

“Is he…real?” Marco can’t help staring at the place where Hannes had once stood with them. He had always known that the custodian was a part of the school, but he had never had a personal experience with the man until now. How had this angel managed to find the time to help the lost souls that have been abandoned in high school hell?

“This school’s totally undeserving of him,” Mikasa says, saying aloud when Marco had just been thinking.

“…Maybe we should do something nice for him.” Sasha has already started on a pudding cup. It only takes her two spoonfuls to be halfway done with it. She licks a smidge of chocolate from the corner of her mouth. “Get him a nice cake or something.”

“Make reservations for him and his wife at a nice restaurant,” Jean says. He points at Sasha, who nods enthusiastically, putting down her pudding to take out her phone and scroll through Yelp for a nice Italian place for Hannes and his wife.

Marco cautiously moves closer to the group, the first time he’s actively tried to join the group after Hannes had come in and talked to them. “That sounds…a lot less illegal than everything else you guys have suggested,” he begins.

“It’s not like we were planning on murdering someone,” Eren says.

“But how are we going to pay for all of this?” Marco asks.

A credit card appears in front of them, held out by Historia Reiss. The others look at her in surprise, but she only shrugs. “I told you. My parents are shitty, so they think the only way to get me to like them is to spoil me rotten. I might as well just use all the money they give me for something nice, right?”

“What a generous queen you are,” Mikasa smirks. Her smile grows when she sees Historia roll her eyes.

“This is great,” Eren sighs. He stands up, hands on his hips, and beams at his friends. “We made a new friend, bonded, and did a good deed for a good person. This is like –“

“This is not like the Breakfast Bunch,” Jean says before Eren can finish.

“You’re right,” Eren says. “Because we are better than the Breakfast Bunch. We’re like…the…”

“Lunch Bunch,” Sasha chirps before returning to her phone conversation securing a reservation for Hannes.

“The Dinner Crew?” Jean says, wrinkling his nose.

“The Six Assholes?” Mikasa says. She arches an eyebrow at Marco, who can only shrug helplessly. It seems he’s a part of this now.

“I love it,” Eren says, shooting finger guns at Mikasa. He gathers them all in a group hug and says proudly, “This is the first and last meeting of the Six Assholes in Saturday school detention!” And if Niles Dawk hadn’t opened the door right at that moment, it might have been.

#104th #marco bodt #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #historia reiss #jean kirstein #sasha braus #snk #hs au #high school au #asks #answered #requests #anon #anonymous

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