#//I would love some more interactions though because my dash is rather silent

[thefloorisbalaclava]

First of all, anon is 100% right about your writing. It kicks ass, I don't make the rules. It' still my inspiration to this day. Your writing always was amazing, it still is and always will be, continuously improving even when it seems almost impossible cause it's so good. Is there even a character you can't write? You always hit the nail on the head and it's mesmerising. And as much as I'm sorry to see you doubting such amazing content and knowing why this is a thing gives me violent urges, I'm so happy to see you enjoying writing again, as you should be 🫶

That being said, those words might have not been for me, not directly at least, but still hit me like a train. I'm more of an oc writer, I get most of my ideas in that regard and I can pour parts of myself into them to my heart's content. I barely post any complete writing with them, though, and I'm still far from finishing any full fanfiction  that features them. It's a hard pill to swallow, but what blocks me is the mostly non existat interaction. The Deus Ex fandom might be small, but it treated me well and welcomed my oc quite warmly. It gave me some confidence about my characters and my character creating skills, but it quickly shattered as I approached bigger titles as time passed. It looks like most people aren't interested in oc writing, unless you also do a lot of x reader writing and so you have a...pubblic? My self esteem is frail, to say the least, so there's no doubt that inspiration and motivation are affected by all this. My x reader content, when I manage to write some, goes pretty well considering my smaller blog and how I don't publish often. Yet, my requests have been dead silent since the DE fandom went rather dormant. I only have hold ones that I still didn't manage to finish, after ages. But requests would help me write more x reader content, cause I would have ideas to work on. So what does all this lead to? "Why do you even try? You're not good enough". And I'm starting to think that's the real reason why I struggle to write regurarly. It's so easy to be kind to others and remind them what anon said to you, because it's absolutely true, but being kind to my own self? Good luck with that. Those words are true, but not when it comes to me. So, honestly, I know this feeling too well, way to well. But I'll try to take your advice and not let this get to me too much, not anymore, because in the end, deep down, I know you're right.

I don't even know why I'm writing this long ass rant, but thank you for the reminder, and sorry for getting carried away like this. Hope I'm not making you uncomfortable or anything can't find the right word damn it

Don't ever apologize for feeling what you feel and needing to talk about it! I think this feeling is widespread among a lot of creators whether they are writers, artists or gifmakers. We can yell "I do this for me!" all we want, but at the end of the day we are human and humans crave interaction.

I get annoyed with myself when I start comparing my work to someone else's. "What are they doing to get so many notes that I'm not?" Honestly, only like the first few fics I wrote when I first came back to the cod fandom have really garnered and interaction now it's like meh. Some days I'm like whatever and other days it's like "okay so it's happening again. am I doing something wrong? Does my writing suck?"

Like I said, all these feelings are valid. It especially hurts when you've worked your ass off on something to only get the bare minimum of interaction then you see another fic that comes across your dash that has 500+ notes and the person just posted it an hour ago.

I feel like I should be used to it by now, you know. But for some reason it never gets easier. I do hope you know that I look forward to your writing (if that means anything) and I appreciate and love you 💙💙💙

[worldsmostdangerous-archived]

“Mᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ” ɪs ᴅᴇʀɪᴠᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ Lᴀᴛɪɴ ɴᴏᴜɴ ᴍᴏɴsᴛʀᴜᴍ﹐ “ᴅɪᴠɪɴᴇ ᴘᴏʀᴛᴇɴᴛ﹐” ɪᴛsᴇʟғ ғᴏʀᴍᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴇʀʙ ᴍᴏɴᴇʀᴇ﹐ “ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀʀɴ.” Iᴛ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇғᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴏғ ᴀɴᴏᴍᴀʟᴏᴜs sʜᴀᴘᴇ ᴏʀ sᴛʀᴜᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ﹐ ᴏʀ ᴛᴏ ғᴀʙᴜʟᴏᴜs ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sᴘʜɪɴx ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴏsᴇᴅ ᴏғ sᴛʀɪᴋɪɴɢʟʏ ɪɴᴄᴏɴɢʀᴜᴏᴜs ᴘᴀʀᴛs﹐ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴᴄɪᴇɴᴛs ᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴏғ sᴜᴄʜ ʙᴇɪɴɢs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ sɪɢɴ ᴏғ sᴏᴍᴇ ɪᴍᴘᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ sᴜᴘᴇʀɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ. Mᴏɴsᴛᴇʀs﹐ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀɴɢᴇʟs﹐ ғᴜɴᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴀs ᴍᴇssᴇɴɢᴇʀs ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀᴀʟᴅs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxᴛʀᴀᴏʀᴅɪɴᴀʀʏ. Tʜᴇʏ sᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴɴᴏᴜɴᴄᴇ ɪᴍᴘᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴠᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ﹐ sᴀʏɪɴɢ﹐ ɪɴ ᴇғғᴇᴄᴛ﹐ “Pᴀʏ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ; sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴘʀᴏғᴏᴜɴᴅ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ɪs ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴɪɴɢ.”

[ home. ] [ ask. ] [ rules. ]

[writertitan]

Only You

pairing: levi x reader 

word count: 2307

themes: jealous!reader, so much fluff and comfort, one could say too much fluff (but not me), angst if you squint at the beginning

requested by anon

A single, light touch of his arm and batting of lashes never affected you. Plenty of girls had done this before and were always shaken off of Levi by the man himself, almost instantly. He was always quick to draw a boundary, with women especially, if they got too close for comfort. It was the persistence of this current girl, though, that made you squirm and made you uncomfortable. Because she was good at making it lighthearted, innocent, not as brash and bold as all the others who had tried to flirt with Levi before. And if Levi had caught on to her advances, he hadn’t done a thing to ward her off. 

Granted, she was an employee, someone who was helping you both pick out a birthday gift for Hange, but you were able to read between the lines. The way she let her fingers brush with Levi’s just for a moment as she handed him a potential gift for your mutual friend, the way her smile was polite for you but beaming for Levi, the way her eyes sparkled when his own gaze landed on her, the way she was either between the two of you or next to him, but never next to you. Her praises of his taste when he looked at a new gift, her polite recognition of you when Levi would ask for your input, all of it, just all of it. You weren’t blind to it but it seemed that Levi was. It made you quiet, quieter than usual, but you couldn’t help your own unspoken behaviors that told more than words could. You were fidgeting, withdrawn, and while Levi didn’t seem to notice the girl’s advances, he did quickly tune into the fact that getting a full sentence out of you was suddenly like pulling teeth. 

Eventually, you let Levi take the lead and shrunk back from him and the girl, your heart sinking low each time she smiled at him, each time she complimented him. Your arms were folded tightly over your chest, as if to keep your heart in one piece, and you hoped that you didn’t look as uncomfortable and upset as you felt. Still, you felt your eyes squinting each time they interacted, and you felt yourself hiding into yourself, wishing you could do more than just watch.

“What do you think?” he pressed you, holding up a small apothecary box. “Four Eyes has been harping on and on about experimenting with alchemy like the crackpot she is. You think this set will be put to good use?” 

You watched as the girl blinked at you expectantly, eyes wide and innocent as she shuffled closer to Levi. 

Try as you might to try and get even a short approval out of your mouth, the words couldn’t come. They were stuck in your throat, bubbling over and dying out before you could even open your mouth. You gave Levi a shrug, and finally, a short and simple, “She’ll like it,” left your lips. Barely above a whisper. 

Levi was frustrated with you now, you could tell, but said nothing of it as he walked up to the counter to pay for the gift. You hadn’t followed him and that had spurred the employee on a little, it seemed; she was much chattier as she packaged the gift for Levi, marveling again about what a wonderful gift giver he was. It wasn’t until she handed Levi the package and set her hand on his arm for a moment too long that it seemed to click for him. 

“Come back again soon,” you heard her say. Levi said nothing to her, and said nothing to you as you both stepped out into the evening. 

                 — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Not a word had been said since leaving the shop. Levi had taken you back to his room and you sat down in a chair in the corner as you fidgeted quietly, those words still squashed and thick in your throat. Truth be told, you knew that it was a little silly. Levi would never encourage flirtatious behavior, much less reciprocate, and he may have genuinely not noticed earlier. But that had been the first time someone had blatantly disregarded you like that. That had been the first time a woman had been so shameless in her pursuit, however discreet it was. 

“Are we going to talk about it or are you going to keep moping?” Levi asked from his closet, grabbing some clothes to change into for bed. His voice cut clear into the air, cutting away at the tension that was palpable. After grabbing the clothes he’d decided on, he walked to his bed and sat on the edge, gazing at you intently. 

You blushed, huddling up in your chair more and sighing. He knew, better than most, how you preferred to show how you were feeling with your actions, your body language, rather than with actual words. In a lot of ways, Levi was exactly the same, the only difference being that he wasn’t one to shy away from confrontation when needed. 

Part of you wanted to just shrink away into nothing and try to pretend it never happened. You’d get over it. After all, you weren’t mad at Levi, weren’t even mad at the girl. You were just mad at yourself now. All of these words wanted to be blurted out, but you didn’t even know where to begin. The other part of you that didn’t want to run away from this took the lead, not giving you time to think or regret the choice to get up and sit on the edge of Levi’s bed next to him, your eyes downcast as you swallowed thickly, as if physically opening up your throat to finally speak your mind. 

“It made me uncomfortable,” you admitted to him in a quiet voice. “How the girl was acting with you, I mean. And I know it’s so silly to feel like this. Nothing happened and nothing was going to happen. I trust you completely and I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad at anybody except for myself. I’m just so upset that I let it get to me, and I’m even more upset that I still don’t know how to speak my mind like you can. I also just...don’t want to seem like a crazed and possessive partner, but I’ll admit that I got jealous. I’m sorry.” 

And there you were, rambling away, hoping that what you were saying was even coherent. 

When Levi didn’t answer right away, you looked up from your lap to see that he actually looked taken aback, like he hadn’t expected that to be your response. He scoffed your name moments later, back to his usual self, but you saw the softness in his eyes as he gazed at you. 

“I didn’t realize what she was up to until the end,” he said, reaching over to place a hand on your thigh. “You know if I’d caught on earlier, I would have put a stop to it.” 

“I know,” you said lamely, gazing at him from under your lashes. “I’m sorry for getting jealous. It was just...the first time it had happened like that. She just didn’t stop.” 

Much to your chagrin, your words elicited a small smirk from Levi. 

“Stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said to you, willingly letting you lean into him. “The one who should apologize is the snotty girl who honestly wasn’t even that helpful. I’m surprised you were jealous of her.”

“Huh?” You lifted your head up from your place on his shoulder to look at him. “Why surprised?” 

Levi returned your gaze steadily, raising a brow as if it were so obvious and you weren’t getting it. 

“Because there was no contest. There never is. I don’t give a shit about anybody but you.”

Oh. 

Instantly you were blushing, your heart sputtering out of control. It wasn’t often that Levi admitted things like that, but when he did, it always caught you off guard. He always said things so bluntly and so decisively. 

He only had eyes for you. Though you already knew that, it was nice to hear it, and it washed away the remnants of the jealousy still stirring through you. 

Again, you couldn’t find the words. Only this time, it was for a good reason, a positive thing. Left speechless by Levi yet again. You took your preferred route of speaking your feelings through actions, and leaned in to press a grateful kiss into his mouth, your hand reaching up to comb back his hair from his face. 

“You know that no one compares to you, either, right?” you asked against his lips, slowly pulling back to gaze at him. 

“Of course,” he snorted, squeezing your thigh before getting up. “I’m making us some tea before bed. Be back soon.” 

You stood and got changed for bed, greeting Levi with a tight-lipped smile when he returned with a tray filled with your teacups, the tea pot, and a few of your favorite tea snacks. He set the tray down at the small table by his bed and changed into his own pajamas as well, calling over his shoulder as he adjusted his shirt, “Let’s read some of that book you’ve been wanting to finish before bed, too.” 

“Really?” you asked, brightening up at the thought. You and Levi hadn’t done that in a while; you in his lap, resting against his chest as he sat up against the headboard, the two of you silently reading a book you held with Levi always nudging you to let you know when he wanted you to turn the page (and then making fun of you for reading too slow). The current book you were reading was a little too sappy - his words, not yours - so he hadn’t been following along. 

“Come here,” he instructed, getting under the covers and pulling you into him once you’d grabbed your book. You settled into him like you normally did, both of you reaching over to grab your cups of tea and take a sip, and that’s when you noticed that Levi had prepared your favorite kind of tea, and had made it his special way for you: a small hint of honey, which he only saved for special days since it had been such an expensive batch, and a dash of cinnamon. Your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness, knowing that instead of telling you, Levi was showing you how much you meant to him. Hell, he was even willing to have tea in bed with you. He usually made you drink at his desk with him. 

“Just the way I like it,” you murmured after taking another gulp, giving Levi a warm and loving grin; your way of letting him know that you appreciated what he was doing. 

Levi hummed in acknowledgement and set his cup back down on the tray, nodding towards the book silently, and you quickly flipped open to the page you’d ended on. Squirming around in his arms until you were sort of facing him, you gave him a brief summary of what had happened so far, so he wouldn’t be lost. 

“So my prediction is that, since he’s leaving and doesn’t know when he’ll come back if at all, she’ll tell him that she still loves him,” you finished proudly, turning back around to press your back flush against Levi’s chest. 

“Like I said before...sappy as shit,” Levi grumbled. You smirked when his chin rested on your shoulder to read with you, though, and reached up with one hand to stroke his cheek with your thumb before completely absorbing yourself into your book. 

The two of you stayed like that for a long time, with both of you silently reading to yourselves and Levi pressing a soft kiss to your jaw to signal he was ready to turn the page. Occasionally you’d stop for short tea breaks and to nibble on the snacks he’d brought along, a comfortable silence embracing the two of you. 

After a loud yawn from you, Levi squeezed his arms around you and made a small noise in his throat as he nuzzled into your neck, one hand moving to snatch the book from your hands to toss it to the end of the bed. It was well into the night now and all the candles you’d lit at the bedside table to help with reading were burning low, making your eyes heavy. 

“Time for bed,” he announced, hoisting you up by the waist and gently scooting you off his lap and into your own spot in bed. He adjusted the blankets around you and then gave you a long, unreadable look as you settled your head into the pillow, eyes half-lidded and blinking slowly as you tried to hold his gaze. He didn’t speak, just reached out to adjust the hair out of your face. But then, after another moment of deliberation, leaned in and whispered, “Do you feel better?” 

You smiled tiredy and nodded, reaching out to hold his hand in yours for a moment. “Much. Thank you for making me feel better.” 

“Jealous brat,” he murmured before pressing a kiss to your forehead, getting out of bed and grabbing the tray to clean up and get it out of the room. You tried to wait for him to come back but just couldn’t stay awake much longer, much less keep your eyes open. 

You vaguely heard Levi come back in after a while, sliding under the covers with you, but your mind was foggy and already in the beginnings of a soft dream. Absently, you moved to be closer to him, succumbing to sleep as a voice whispered in your ear, “There’s only you.” 

[anxious-allie-ren]

The Rumors.

Coming at you with the next chapter! This one was fun! I really laid some good ground work here and planted some hints for future important plot points. So, see if you can find them! I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next banquet was once again held at the King and Queen's summer estate. But rather than showing up in the evening for a night of dancing and conversation, guests came instead to share a meal and a few waltzes.

All that were in attendance had just enjoyed a delicious three-course meal. A light vegetable soup served with a side of bread, followed by roasted pheasant with glazed potato, and finished off with a delicious iced pudding. You had starved yourself all day for the meal, expecting nothing but a grand spread. It's safe to say you were not disappointed. Your father on the other hand, he was a different story. He had nothing nice to say about the meal, stating that his pheasant was dry and the pudding was too sweet. You were able to conjure up an excuse to get away from him, walking away from your table and into the crowd. You needed to breathe.

You're watching the couples dance around the floor as you feel someone come up to your side.

"Did you enjoy your meal, my lady?"

You turn to see Poe standing next to you, looking as dashing as ever. He's dressed in his usual tuxedo, curly brown hair tamed in a perfect mop on his head. You smile up at him and nod.

"Yes I did. How about you, Lord Poe?"

"Just Poe, remember? I did enjoy it, but I have to say, I wish the pudding had been sweeter."

His response makes you giggle, looking down at your hands. He was so drastically different from your father. Of course they would even differ on something as simple as the dessert.

"Of course, Poe."

Poe turns to look at you. He holds out his hand for you just as the previous dance ends.

"Would you like to dance with me, miss Y/N?"

You nod quickly and place your gloved hand in his, allowing him to lead you out onto the dance floor.

You are swept up in him as you waltz about the room. You could feel that spark from your stroll in the park. Only now, it was beginning to burn brighter, being fanned by the closeness of your bodies. The way he was looking down at you had your cheeks burning red. Poe smiled and held your hand just a bit tighter.

"I very much enjoy the time we've spent together, miss Y/N."

His words take you by surprise. Of course you enjoyed his company. But you were not expecting the feeling to be mutual. You look up in his eyes, a bright smile spread across your face.

"I have as well, Poe. But please just call me Y/N."

_______________________________________________

Those in the crowd watch the two of you as you dance. The spark could be felt by everyone in attendance. It seemed that the young woman who gained praise from the King had found her love match. Any one with eyes could clearly see the connection between the two of you.

That of course meant that both your father and Lord Hux could see this as well. The men were standing off to the side watching.

"I knew she would fall for a younger man. We should have just arranged the marriage and been done with it. You promised me this would be no problem."

"Lord Hux, I can assure you this will simply be a little obstacle in our plans. MY daughter will be your bride by the end of the season."

Lord Hux looks at your father, his brows furrowed in anger. He slicks back his ginger hair with his hand and sighs.

"You're right, your grace. Because I'll be taking matters into my own hands."

With that, Lord Hux makes his way through the crowd and onto the dance floor.

_____________________________________________________

You are broken from your moment with Poe as Lord Hux comes up to the both of you, your father following closely behind.

Poe turns to face him, dropping your hands from him.

"Good evening, Lord Hux. How can I help you?"

Lord Hux scowls at Poe and turns his direction to you.

"I've come to ask my lady to dance with me, if that's alright with you."

You couldn't believe the brazen actions of Lord Hux. It is more shocking that your father was going along with this. He had been so demanding that you behave, but certainly this little stunt would not look good to the ton.

You swallow the lump in your throat. The last thing you wanted to do was dance with him. He had made his intentions very clear in your last interaction. You didn't want to do anything more to give him the wrong idea. Lord Hux stood no chance with you. Poe looked down at you, sensing your hesitancy. He was about to answer when your father stepped in.

"Of course, Lord Hux. Y/N would love to dance with you! It would be her honor."

Your father punctuates those last words with a hard look at you. It was clear you had no choice in the matter. It was either behave now and come out of this with your dignity intact, or walk away and lose the good graces of the King and the ton.

You stay silent as you take Lord Hux's hand and begin to dance with him. Your face is as still as the statues that decorate the elaborate ballroom. You wanted to make it clear to all that may be watching, along with your dance partner, that you were not enjoying this.

Lord Hux drones on about his vast estates, wealth, etc. but you can't bring it in you to listen. None of this information mattered to you. As he continues going on about some group of men he's assembling, you catch the eyes of the raven haired man from across the room.

He's standing amongst the crowd, dressed in a fine tuxedo. You couldn't even take in his attire. All you could focus on was his gaze, which was fixed right on you. The both of you couldn't keep your eyes off each other. Even as Lord Hux twirled you around the floor, your eyes still managed to find him. As the song ended, you nodded to Lord Hux and turned towards the direction of the man, but found that he was gone.

You made your way back into the crowd. You were hoping to find Poe or even the mystery man. You stopped at the refreshments table to get a glass of champagne. As you turned, you spotted the man again. He was talking with a few other men, but the second he felt your stare he looked up at you and met your eyes. You were tempted to make your way over towards him but stopped as two other debutantes joined you at the table. Both girls were beautiful. The one closest to the table had short auburn hair with deep brown eyes. She was wearing an emerald green dress accented by silver beads. The woman next to her had hair that was a bit longer than the other's, but it was a lovely chocolate color. Her eyes were blue, just like the dress she had on.

"Lizzie, honestly. No King is going to be joining the ton this year." The woman in the blue dress states as she grabs a glass of champagne for herself.

"No I'm serious, he's here! Look, he's right there!" Who you now know as Lizzie says and points wildly across the room. You follow her finger and find she is spotted at the mysterious man you've been exchanging glances with. You had to be mistaken. Maybe she was pointing at one of the other men in the group.

You look back to the pair and step closer to them.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to intrude on your conversation. But I couldn't help but overhear you say a King is in attendance?"

The women both turn their attention to you and prepare to make an introduction. The woman in the emerald dress speaks up first.

"Yeah, sorry! My name is Elizabeth, but you can just call me Lizzie. This is Julia."

"Lizzie here thinks that a King from another country has joined the ton this season. I think she's delusional."

You laugh at Julia's comment and introduce yourself.

"Julia, I'm not kidding! My mother told me all about it after the last ball. He was seen talking to

Charlotte. I guess the interaction didn't go so well."

You decide to join in, hoping to get more information.

"Which one did you say is the King?"

Lizzie once again points in the direction of the raven haired man, who is still in conversation.

"That man there, the dark haired one. My mother says he's king of Chandrila. A really broody one."

Julia pipes in, staring at the man along with you both.

"Well, he is handsome. Tall and broad. How do you know he's broody, Lizzie?"

"Oh, he's drop dead gorgeous for sure! But my mother knows some of the lads that served in his army. Said he was brutal."

You let those words sink in for a second before you speak up.

"Well shouldn't you be brutal in battle? I mean especially if you're commanding an army."

"Oh yeah of course. But this wasn't just on the battle grounds. This was to his servants and townspeople as well. Said he would have a big outburst and break things, scream at people, all of that. Seems like a case of another horrid man blessed with good looks. Feel real bad for the one who ends up with him."

You and Julia nod along to her remarks. The two women go on gossiping about others in the ton. You pretend to follow along. But you continue to go over Lizzie's words in your head. Has a king from some other country really come and joined your ton? If so, what was the reasoning? Was he really some dangerous man? It sounded as though he was. It seemed as though you had caught his attention as well.

_____________________________________________

Kylo's POV

Arriving late was not something Kylo was fond of. He hated doing so. But being so far from home meant letters and packages took a bit longer to arrive to him. This resulted in his duties not getting done in the timely manner he was used to. All of this made him late to the banquet. He knew this would come to bite him in the ass.

Kylo had full intentions of going, introducing himself to you, and asking you to dance tonight. But with how late he arrived he wasn't even sure a dance would still be open for him. Or if you'd even still be here.

Kylo scanned the crowd, hoping to spot you amongst all the women in frivolous dresses. With no luck, he turned his attention to the dance floor. There, he spotted you with the ginger haired man from the ball. It was easy to see your distaste for him. It was written all over his face. It took everything in him to stay in place and not remove you from the man's arms. No true gentleman should make a lady that uncomfortable.

Just as he was about to move on and find a drink, you looked up. Kylo felt as if his heart had leapt into his throat and then dropped to his toes. Your gaze was enough to hold him in place. Each spin, twirl, or dip he stayed right there to meet your eyes again. Each time he got that same feeling. He couldn't put a name to it, but he knew for certain he'd never felt anything like it before. He needed to get out of there. The feeling was beginning to get overwhelming. Kylo quickly made his way towards the drink table, grabbing a glass and walking off to a quieter part of the room.

Though of course it didn't stay that way for long. Just as he was catching his breath, two gentlemen came up to him and began conversation. He didn't want to seem rude, but fuck could a man get a moment of peace?

He listens to the men talk about their respective territories and such, including his input every now and then. Suddenly, he felt as though someone was watching him. He looked up to find you staring at him from the refreshments table he had just been at. It felt as though he was just missing you. You turned your attention to the two women who had joined you. Kylo looked down at his glass, half listening to the men in front of him. He was determined to meet you by the end of the night.

_____________________________________________

Many had left already. A few couples stood around chatting while their chaperones watched. Kylo continued to scan the room, hoping he hadn't missed you.

He walks out into the main hall near the doors to the estate. There, he spots you standing off to the side while an older man, whom he assumes is your father, talks with the ginger haired man he'd seen you dancing with earlier. He stands and admires you for a moment. You quietly gaze at the chandeliers and art work that graces the walls, content with just being there.

Kylo walks up to you silently hoping not to scare you from your trance. He comes to stand a few feet from you. Now that he is up close, he can really take in your beauty.

He had very limited experience with women, but he understood beauty. He thinks back to the deer in the forest from when he was a child. It was so naturally beautiful standing in the tall grass. It's antler's seemingly reaching the sky, showing off the deer's strength. He remembers how beautiful he found the animal, how intrigued he was by it. Even up until the end, he wanted to protect it. As he looked upon you, he was reminded of that deer. Beautiful, strong, and something he wanted to protect.

You finally felt his gaze and turned to look at him. Your eyes widened in surprise. Kylo thought for certain he saw fear flash before your eyes before you quickly hid it behind a polite smile. He quickly snaps out of his thoughts. Kylo clears his throat and tries to provide a smile back.

"Hello miss, I wanted to finally introduce myself. I am Kylo Ren, King of Chandrila."

You stand there staring at him for a moment. He's scared he's upset you in some way. Or even scared you off with his title.

"Hello, your majesty. It is an honor to meet you. I am Miss Y/F/N, the daughter to the Duke of Selonia."

Kylo can't help the small smile that begins to form as he hears your name leave your lips. He knows instantly that it will be a name that plays on loop in his mind for days to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There we have it! They've finally met. About damn time am I right? Any guesses on what's coming next?

Also wanted to add that I will be going on vacation for two week starting Saturday. So I will do my best to update in-between then. But I can't guarantee anything.

Love,

Allie

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: iv

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1   ||   chapter 2  ||  chapter 3  ||  chapter 5  ||

word count: 7.7k

sucks when things go south, huh. 

warnings: description of bodily injury, blood, mild? gore (it’s just describing injury), description of overstimulation, capital h and c hurt/comfort

------

chapter 4 :’^) thank u for all of the love so far. i appreciate. every. single. one of. u. bottom of my lil rat heart.

this chapter was nearly split, but giving y’all a cliffhanger seemed mean  

this the turning point and set up for the rest of the story so buckle up and enjoy ;^)

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Things between you and Hawks didn’t change too much, not externally anyways. Both of you still continued to indulge your feelings, even if you desperately tried to ignore them. 

You continued to honestly spoil Hawks in lavish drinks of many sensations. Truthfully, you loved nothing more than seeing his face as he sipped at your new creations, watching the curiosity and pleasure spread over his features made your heart soar in your chest.

And Keigo continued to bask in your company. The drinks were always amazing, but the chatter and discourse between the two of you was what he loved most. Or, maybe it was his learning of you through watching your small gestures and cues. His analytical, interpersonal skills were, for once, being put to a use that didn’t involve espionage or deception.

It felt cleansing.

Despite these quietly greedy interactions, there was a great deal of repression between the two of you. Aimless flirting aside, squishing any growing feelings caused you both a great deal of strain. It worked, avoidance, for a while anyway. It wasn’t without consequences, but they wouldn’t get nasty until later.

 One of the most apparent tolls was Keigo’s physical state. Having to actively ignore and quash his feelings for you caused such a deep amount of emotional turmoil. It made him ache all over. This was in addition to an asinine amount of extra hours he was spending staking out the villain syndicate that was indeed in the neighborhood of the tea shop. 

(He wouldn’t admit it, but he was being overly diligent in scouting out the organization's doings. They were very close to you and your home, and the thought of you getting caught up in anything to do with his profession fucked him up on-premise alone.) 

The combination of both physical and mental exertion made him messier than ever. It physically clouded him a lot of the time. Exhaustion had well and truly seized nipping at his ankles and proceeded to fully rip a chunk from his skull.

Keigo had yet another long day, dawn until at least midnight, no matter his aching body.

He’d be listening in on out some sort of meeting between the villain syndicate and one of its allies, some more reclusive group of villains from the far-off mountains. Neither organization was particularly noteworthy, but they did have some nasty criminal connection that needed to be monitored. That meant a late night for Keigo and an even greater need for caffeine. 

He paid you a visit in the early morning. 

 The moment Hawks came through the door, you lit up, beaming from behind the counter.  

The shop was empty, just having opened a few minutes before he appeared. The only sounds were the hum coffee machines, quiet music, and the tapping of your own tinkerings. Normally, there’d be more bustle, but you were alone in the din of the shop. 

“Hey, angel,” He flashed you a winning smile, sliding down into his usual stool and propping his elbows on the counter. “Where’s the calvary?”

“Oh, the other openers?” You jerked your thumb to the door. “Running late. They all stayed up late working on a project for school, so I took one for the team and am manning the ship alone for this first bit.”

You sighed, looking quite tired yourself.

There was mutual recognition of your twin state, though it wasn’t verbally regarded in any way. 

Hawks was far better at hiding his poor health from you, but that didn’t stop you from seeing the pinholes in his facade. You’d gotten better at it with time. 

“What can I get you today, Hawks? Inspire me.” You set the glass on the counter between the two of you, gesturing to the expanse of the coffeeshop. “It’s just you and me today, so I can go all out.”

“You don’t already?” Hawks chuckled, running a hand through his hair with a sigh.

“I try,” You shrugged. “I really do my best work for you, whether you’re a glorified guinea pig or not. Gotta serve up the best for my best customer.”

On any normal, Hawks would’ve bantered right back at you, keeping you on your toes with quick words and wit.

That day?

He just laughed, something weirdly neutral, almost off-putting because you knew it was manufactured. 

You opened your mouth, brows furrowing. You wanted nothing more than to ask ‘hey, are you alright?’. 

But, that would’ve broken some of your own, mentally-imposed boundaries. It hurt, to just laugh with him, but it was all you would let yourself do. 

“So,” You broke the air with words as opposed to giggles. “What would you like?”

Hawks hummed, “Surprise me.”

“... Like, fully?”

Hawks nodded, slowly. 

 Keigo, in a movement of full vulnerability, (he told himself it would just be for a few minutes), laid his head on his folded arms, “Go wild, angel. I trust you. Make me anything you’re feeling. Wing it, no pun intended.”

 You blinked at him, nodding. His sudden, almost submissive action surprised you. Something in you ached, seeing him so worn down.

You channeled this feeling into a desire to make him top-tier drink. 

Reaching into your apron, you fished out your idea notebook. Many had been crossed off over the many weeks (months now?) that Hawks had been visiting the tea shop. You fairly consistently wrote down new ones, so there were always options, but on that day, none appealed to you.

Your gaze flickered back to Hawks, watching the soft movements of his breath through the tight fabric of the back of his shirt. 

You needed to make it extra good, help shake Hawks from his stupor. 

 You’re gonna wing it.

You’ll make a feel-good drink.

 It was your only self-imposed criteria. 

 You hadn’t ever made Hawks a drink without a concept and feeling beforehand, so the concept of not having one seemed novel.

You activated your quirk and began.

“How’s your day been?” Hawks called from behind you, words muffled.

 Keigo still didn’t look at you; resting on his arms allowed him a little bit of a reprieve before his grueling day. He’d take it. Hearing your voice would make it that much better.

 You described your day with a decent amount of detail for how much it hadn’t gotten started yet. Hamming up the detail meant more time for you to craft the drink. Your mind spun, grasping onto pre-existing, mental abstracts in your oddly calm headspace to create something tangible. 

Though your quirk was activated, you weren’t really identifying a feeling specifically, rather just letting your quirk draw from whatever material you had laying around in your brainscape at 6 AM on a weekday morning.

You pulled as many espresso shots as Hawks usually liked (maximum, five, you refused to give him more than that in a single drink), pouring them into some steamed oatmilk and several other ingredients you had mixed into a cup. You tapped some cinnamon on top of the foam, polishing everything off with a dash of sweet cream.

Carefully, you set it between the two of you. Hawks hadn’t spoken since you had begun to make the drink, so oddly silent. 

It almost made your skin itch, his lack of response. You reminded yourself with quick glances that Hawks was very obviously out of it and exhausted. You were sure that without the concealer he wore under his eyes (a secret he revealed to only you), he’d have purple circles punched from how overworked he was.

You hoped your drink would be enough to brighten up his day. 

You bit your lip as Hawks raised his head, blonde waves more unruly than normal. A small, lopsided smile stretched across his face as he sat up, grabbing the drink and bringing it closer. He had learned long ago to allow them to cool. 

 “Sorry for not being as peppy as I normally am!” It was almost imperceptible, the off-kilter tone in his voice. 

You caught it but said nothing. 

He sheepishly rubbed at the back of his head. “Been running on empty it seems, angel.”

“Then take some fuel, bird boy.” You nodded to the foamy drink. “When are you supposed to be done today?”

“Late, like late. Early morning, probably.” Hawks sighed, taking a sip.

...

As the liquid coated his mouth, Keigo’s mind seized.

 What.

What the fuck.

 Any and all thoughts he had disappeared. They were incinerated from his mind by the drink’s heat. 

A sun-scorching sensation like he’d never even known tore through his body. 

It was so different from the other ‘warm’-toned drinks you’d made him in the past. The flavor and feeling filling him up was nothing like the hearth-like drinks you had made prior. You had treated him to plenty of beverages that felt akin to open flame, warm blankets, a cat purring over your chest, a candle on a cold night—

But, nothing even close to this.

This was such a strong feeling that if he was a less trained man, his eyes would’ve rolled back in his head. If he’d been standing, he was sure his legs would’ve been visibly shaking, probably given out.

Sure, the feeling was abstract, not as concrete as your other drinks but it was ineffably strong. 

 It felt like the flutter you caused in his stomach, but somehow all over and inside of him.

It was the heat in his cheeks when he saw you, but reaching from his toes to the skin of his scalp. 

It was the shock in his throat when you smiled so honestly at him, now forcing his hands to twitch around the cup. 

The consuming sensation was all of that goodness and more, magnified and exponentially deeper and marvelously burning.

It was hot, fiery as it ripped through him, completely unignorable. But, it was also soft, colored with the earnestness that he admired about you so much—

Oh.

 It clicked as the sensation stirred in his stomach, fluttering to a point of near nausea. 

It was you. 

 The moment he realized it, that all of that sensation was you feeling, as you had made the drink, something began to broil in the apex of his chest, rolling and all-consuming.

His mind stalled as he took it all in, taking another sip. 

The feeling washed over him again, equally as wonderfully crushing.

“Soooo,” You drawled, setting a jar next to you on the counter, beaming him a smile. “What do you think? Gimme your judgment, bird boy.”

Keigo struggled to keep his face neutral as he quickly searched yours. 

Even in his state, it was clear that there was no deception or riddle laced into the creaminess of the drink. The expectancy in your face was derived from admiration, not waiting for the punchline of an unfinished joke.

 “It’s warm! Like, in your stomach.” Hawks looked down before taking another sip, the even smile on his face not wavering for even a moment. “What is it?”

“It’s a miel,” You tapped the jar next to you, pointing at the amber goo inside. “This is some wildflower honey from the owner’s sister’s farm, right outside the city. We have a bunch of extra stuff, so there’s no better time to make a honey-based drink.” 

Hawks eyed the steam, “What goes into a ‘miel’?”

Watching Hawks’ shoulder go slack with the next chug he took, you hummed, “It’s a latte, so espresso and milk, then it has the honey in it which is what makes it a ‘miel’. Topped it with some special sweet cream, a bit of cinnamon. My extra touches in it as well, just based on my quirk.”

Hawks met your gaze, his eyes softening with what you could’ve sworn was desperation, but was quickly swallowed up but stoicism, “And what was this drink’s inspiration?” 

You laughed, shoving your hands in your apron from the typical anxiety, though the feeling itself was somewhat normal and thereby dulled, “It didn’t have one! I just winged it, like you said. My quirk was activated though, so it was just sort of the concept of what I was perceiving and feeling, I suppose.” 

There was a pause as you waited for Hawks to speak. 

He didn’t.

 Keigo stared down at the drink, then you. 

Holy fuck.

This was ambient? 

The sensation that made his toes curl and every part of him yearn to reach out to touch you and give all of himself to you—

It was unintentional?

The feeling was familiar, one that he had organically all the time when thinking of you, being with you at the teashop. It was the one that he shoved down over and over again around you, yet craved more than anything.

And here you were, unknowingly returning it to him.

You hadn’t intended it to be shared and you had no idea you even did.

Keigo was one of the most perceptive people on the planet— he knew that many of the feelings between the two of you were mutual. As much flirting as there was, a lot of it was real from both of you. 

He just didn't think it ran this far deep.

(Mutually.)

 “What... What do you think it tastes like?” You asked, that nasty rot in your gut rearing itself as Hawk’s lack of response ate at you. You turned fully to him, actually taking him in.

 Keigo did what he was so skilled at doing—

Lying.

 Hawks waved his hands in front of him like he was trying to put out small flames, “Nothing bad! Promise, it’s really good! It tastes like how the coffee shop feels. Warm, comfortable. It makes sense that your quirk would reflect that.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, “Oh, good. I’m glad it's good.”

“Very good. I might have to put miels on my list of favorite drinks you’ve made me,” Hawks gave you a relaxed grin, standing and passing a wad of cash to you.

You didn’t expect him to be leaving so quickly, but he did say he was busy.

“Oh, hey, Hawks?” He perked up when you said his name, blinking at you. “I’ve got a project I’m working that I’m doing for the owner, so I’ll be here late. If you’re around, you’re welcome to come by after close if you want another drink? For your long night.”

Hawks softened for you like he so often had come to do. He fluffed up the collar of his jacket, wings ruffling up behind him, “I think I’ll take you up on that. I’ll have some ideas for you then too, how about that?”

 “Sounds lovely,” Your voice was like the honey of the drink, warm, sweet, and vibrant. “I’ll see you then, Hawks.”

“See you then, angel,” Hawks practically glowed as he walked from the door, the chime of the bell sounding with his exit. “I’ll text you when I’m close!”

 |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 Over the course of the day, an odd feeling grew in the pitch of your stomach. You did your best to ignore it. 

You alternated between serving customers and working on the ‘project’ the owner had saddled you with. Making centerpieces for his sister’s bridal shower was not something you should’ve been doing on company time, but they were giving you a handsome sum of cash under the table for it. 

You couldn’t complain too much, other than that it was laborious. Masons jars stuffed with wired lights and frosted glasses, tied with twine and ribbons were all to be prettily arranged by your hand. 

 During the middle of the day, you went back home, spending your time between shifts catching up on sleep and making some decent food.

The odd gnawing only grew in your stomach. 

 Keigo’s long day was wearing on, though somewhat uneventfully. Most of his patrolling time was the effortless thwarting of petty crime and easy rescuing. 

He even had the time to go back to his agency and snoop.

Because, for how lame his day was, the drink you made him (which he had greedily chugged all of shortly upon leaving the tea shop) caused him to think particularly hard about your quirk.

(As opposed to the asphyxiating awareness of your shared feelings.)

 He didn’t get it.

You’d managed to perfectly create a drink that communicated complex feelings. You’d told him in the past that it could be used for any sort of feeling as well, but you were so vague beyond that. You were abstract in the same way you quirk was.

So, he decided to abuse his power a little.

He decided to actually take a lunch at the agency, munching on takeout while clicking through the HPSC’s databases.

Civilian quirks, especially those that had never attempted to pursue any sort of career with them, weren’t documented incredibly well. Maybe a few details that were used in public research projects, but not much beyond that. He had hoped he could dig and find something that would assuage his curiosity and confusion.

He tapped your name into the HPSC’s hero-accessible database, scrolling and pulling up your file.

There was a picture of you, one from an ID that must’ve been a few years old. There were personal details Keigo wasn’t all that interested in, though it was neat to finally know your birthday. 

He clicked on the tab for your quirk.

  Quirk: Synesthetic Manifestation 

Description: Allows the user to materially manifest abstract, synesthetically-created feelings into reality. 

This quirk does not allow the user to alter reality, only tangibly create abstracts through the means at their disposal.  

Drawback: This quirk causes severe synesthetic overstimulation and appears to be activated unintentionally in instances that expose them to high amounts of stimuli. 

Quirk potential: 

 Keigo knew the concept of ‘quirk potential’ well. Most of the time, this portion on files was only filled out if the individual had ever trained to use their quirk in a profession.

Oddly, your’s contained a few details.

 The user showed high potential in initial assessments, but due to the nature of the quirk, its drawbacks, and its recorded usage, this user’s quirk is now classified as lowest potential.

 Keigo frowned.

All this just made him more confused. 

The file didn’t get into much more detail than you did. The only thing that was new information to him was that at some point you had tried to use your quirk in a training setting and that somehow got you demoted from high potential to lowest potential.

Keigo’s own quirk in the database was regarded as highest potential; you, at some point, were only a step down from him. Something knocked you down from pursuing quirk-based work, and based on your current employment at the tea shop, you never got up. Keigo figured it was the intricacies of your quirk that he didn’t fully understand.

He’d have to be a bit more careful getting any more information out of you, considering how much you disliked talking about it. 

Keigo continued to stew, finishing off his lunch while thoughts of you and your feelings danced across his mind. 

Though it was clear his adoration was obviously returned, it was much easier for him to muse over the nature of your quirk than the way he wanted to pull you over the teashop’s counter and kiss you breathless.

 You went back to work, a few chalky tablets of stomachache medicine in your tummy. They were all you could do to try and quell the twisting in your gut. 

 By the time you arrived back to start your ‘night shift’, it was late evening, the sun already having fallen into the horizon. 

Most of your time prior to closing was spent in the front, helping make drinks and clean up as you could. Part of you was actually excited to throw on some good music and grind after the tea shop was shut down for the night.

Also, seeing Hawks twice in the same day? Absolutely fantastic.

You wanted to try and make him a knockout drink, to make up for the lackluster one you’d prepared him earlier. Seeing his eyes get all gooey with happiness would more than push you through your night of work.

Your phone chimed a bit before close.

 [birdboy]: hey ;^) mind if I come by in like a half an hour?

[you]: yeah!! just call me and i’ll unlock the door for you

 Your closing coworkers giggled at you. They all knew that that big smile stretched across your face meant you were texting Hawks. You used to get a bit shy about it, but now you just gave them shit. He was your friend, right?

 [birdboy]: what if i like, hit the glass, like fly into it like birds do into windows

[you]: okay one- no, that would definitely shatter the windows and idk if i wanna deal with that AND you tonight ;^)

[you]: and TWO- are you speaking. from experience. about hitting windows.

[birdboy]: please dont @ me like this 

 You snorted. 

 [birdboy]: i had to pay off a tabloid who got it on camera bc it would ruin my brand

[you]: do u still have those photos

[birdboy]: ... maybe

[you]: hawks

[you]: gimme

[birdboy]: idk if i can my publicist will kill me

[you]: u hear what i hear?? a coward

[you]: how does ‘your brand’ feel about that

[birdboy]: ...

[birdboy]: gimme one of those honey sticks u have at the register and the pics are yours once i get there ;^)))

[you]: DEAL!!!

 You pocketed your phone in your apron, unable to stop the almost ridiculous smile that you wore.

Hawks made you uncomfortably happy. You knew that he didn’t feel the same, but he was still there. Even if you were just entertainment to him, you were happy to perform on any stage he was watching. 

As closing crept up, you shooed your other coworkers off. Most of the closing tasks were done, they could leave a few minutes early. 

As they began to pack up, chatting about some party that night, your insides twisted.

You squeezed the counter, rubbing your forehead while wishing your coworkers a good evening.

Weird.

 It was about then that things went to shit for both you and Hawks. 

 Keigo’s was supposed to be in for a hellishly long shift of surveillance based on the intel he’d received about the syndicate and its impending meeting. 

Apparently, that meeting was happening earlier, rather than later. 

The chaos started quickly, the meetup going from a strategic talk to an all-out fight between two groups. 

It spilled into the nearby streets, both sides unabashed in their destruction. 

 Perhaps, if Keigo had been faster (what a tall order, for the fastest man in all of Japan), things wouldn't have gotten so out of hand. 

But quickly, things erupted and the streets dissolved in mayhem as he dove and sent feathers flying.

 You stood by the front entrance, waiting for Hawks, idly sweeping. The cleaning tasks were almost done, the world outside was dark with the late evening.

You froze when the ground beneath your feet rumbled with revving engines, the air splitting with the sound of car horns and alarms. 

Everything that happened next moved so quickly, it was difficult to follow.

Windows began to shatter all across the street, near and far.

They cracked, spraying glass as a figure cloaked in black flew down the asphalt outside. A red barrage followed after it, nearly subduing it as it raced past the tea shop.

The massive glass panels at the front of the tea shop filled with frosty lines, just feet in front of you. 

It clicked for you a few moments too late.

Adrenaline shot through you, but it wasn’t enough. 

...

You weren’t Hawks, you weren’t fast enough to outrun much of anything, let alone quirk-shattered glass. 

You were just barely able to turn around before the spray of shards reached you. 

You would later be incredibly thankful that you wore denim jeans and a wool sweater that day. Without the thick fabrics, you were sure that you would’ve been shredded. The problem was your low-top shoes and thin socks.

Just as you turned, searing pain shot from the back of your left ankle. You urged yourself to forget the specifics, flesh-tearing, mind beginning to buzz. 

You just had to keep moving. 

Except, you couldn’t. Your left leg gave out with your next step.

You shrieked as you fell to the floor, barely catching yourself. Your palms smacked against the ground, pieces of sharpened glass driving into the flesh. 

You couldn’t help screaming, your voice mingling with the sound of alarms, cries for help, and the war cries of a nearby fight.

Oh.

You were in the middle of a fairly nasty villain attack.

...

So much for giving Hawks a better drink.

The mental joke seemed macabre, especially in your state.

 You willed with all of your might, for your quirk to not activate. Overstimulation was just inches away from your current state, the sounds outside the teashop boring through your skull like diamond drill bits. 

The pain that was radiating from your left leg was nearly unbearable, but you knew that getting out of the front room was imperative. 

How you managed to keep your injured leg straight, you’ll never know. 

You locked your jaw and pulled yourself along the floor, hoping that Hawks had this all under control. More people were bound to be hurt by the same sort of attack you got caught in, right? How many more folks had been sliced up like you? Worse than you?

 Keigo wasn’t having much trouble subduing the villains. They, of course, had no idea that he had been watching the syndicate for three-odd months. He knew their quirks, their tactics, their escape routes, everything. What he didn’t know as well was the other group’s specifics. 

From what he had understood before the fight, the two had somewhat friendly relations. Still, Keigo mentally kicked himself for not being more diligent in his gathering of intel. 

His mistakes aside, the much more pressing issue was the two-kilometer stretch of shops that were now collateral damage in what was essentially a mobile mob war. 

This damage included the tea shop.

When he’d flown past the shop, he’d only caught a glimpse of your face through the glass before it shattered.

You’d looked terrified.

Every part of him wanted to stop, dead in the air, rush in, and make sure you were okay, but he had to at least get things under control until more heroes showed up. Then, he’d be able to get to you. 

By the time Keigo subdued several villains of either group, more Pros had arrived on the scene. He sped off to the teashop far too quickly when he saw others gathering. It was an ill-advised move, but he was clouded by a different set of instincts than those cultivated in his hero training. 

The flight did allow him to fully take in the damage of the district, though.  

It was about as bad as it could be.

Whatever the villain’s quirk was must’ve shattered glass within a certain radius from his body, Keigo observed.

Thankfully, the villain’s quirk didn’t appear to affect anything past two stories of height, sparing all above it. Those panes and pieces that did shatter had sprayed businesses, restaurants, shops, and the street with shards of glass. Not to mention that they flew at the speed of projectiles.

(At the full-minded revelation that there was no way you weren’t hurt, Keigo felt his stomach flip and eyes burn.)

Keigo shuddered to think how bad the damage would’ve been if the encounter happened during broad daylight. 

 Keigo curled in his wings, dropping onto the floor at the front of the teashop through the broken window. 

He kept his expression somewhat neutral, though the scene before him tore at his heart in a way he wasn’t expecting.

The tea shop was destroyed.

The pretty, warm lighting fixtures had shattered, fine filaments exposed, and a few sparking. The glass jars on your wall of tea blends were broken, spilling leaves and dried herbs across the back counter. That wasn’t even to mention the layer of shards from all of the glassware stored around the coffee machines.

Seeing the destruction of one of the only places he had ever found real comfort in was awful, and it tore something hidden and vulnerable in his heart.

But far, far worse was the absolute horror that bloomed in his chest when he saw the sizeable spot of blood in the middle of the floor, smearing to the back doorway. 

“(Y/N)!” Keigo shouted, ignoring any stealthy elements and hurriedly following the trail.

“B-back here,” Oh, your voice was so weak. 

Keigo couldn’t make himself move fast enough.

 You’d managed to get yourself to the back, biting your lip so hard you were scared you’d break the skin. Part of you was lucid enough to know that making too much noise could be bad. Then again, the shop was supposed to be closed. Did anyone even know that you were there?

Hawks did.

You gripped at one of the edges of the stainless steel countertops, using all the strength you could muster to pull yourself upright. As careful as you were not to jostle your injured leg (that you still hadn’t looked at properly because you were terrified), the moment you bent it, you had to suppress a scream, turning it into a slow, nasty exhale. You let yourself sink to the floor again. 

Something was seriously fucked up.

 Then Hawks called your name. 

You were sprawled out on the floor, injured leg awkwardly turned and extended to prevent the pain from being made worse. 

The moment he saw you from the doorway, the remnants of his wings flapped, practically throwing him to the ground next to you.

The moment you saw him enter the back room, any and all fronts you had put on for yourself fell apart.

“H-Hawks,” You hated how small your voice sounded as you pushed yourself closer to him.

The details of him, how ruffled his remaining feathers were, how wide and scared his eyes were, how different he looked from the times you’d seen him on the news confidently saving the day, were lost on you. 

 Though, Keigo noticed your poor state easily. It was more obvious. 

He scanned your form with the trained precision he was known for. He took in the shattered piece of glass sticking from your leg, bleeding lightly. Your palms weren’t bloody, but they were dotted with shards of glass. 

He also noticed your panicked shaking and your unnaturally dilated pupils, beyond anything he’d seen while you’d made drinks for him. 

“Is your quirk active?” Keigo asked, pulling off his gloves and grabbing one of your wrists. He turned your palm, using two of his smallest feathers like tweezers to pick at the shards pieces of glass. 

“Y-yeah,” You replied, using the back of your other hand to wipe at your eyes. “It does this when I’m under extreme stress. I can’t turn it off.”

Keigo managed to laugh, relieved that the cuts in your hands weren’t that severe, “You just focus on me, okay, angel? That’s all you gotta do.”

 You nod, trying to hold your overstimulated mind back. It’s fruitless, truly, because the moment Hawks reminds you that he is, in fact, there, and that you are safe, you quirk-addled mind spasms. 

The awful mix of sensations whirled in your skull as you leaned forward, pressing your forehead into Hawks’ shoulder. In other circumstances, it would be a romantic gesture. But, the only purpose you had in the contact was hoping, praying, that the heat of his body would distract you from the swirling of sensations you couldn’t stop. 

In that mental soup, within the fear, intense pain, and loss, oddly enough, was the unignorable, pleasant feeling of being so close to him. It made your heart squeeze. But, it was a single spice of sensation in a foul-tasting stew though, and it was hard to isolate the good in the muck of your mind. 

You shook against him as sounds and pain blended inside your skull, thoughts becoming murkier and harder to understand.

 Keigo finished tweezing your other hand, that one worse off, and wrapping it in some gauze he had stuffed in his jacket.

His mind screamed for him to wrap you in his arms, to pull you close and keep you safe. It was all he could fathom doing, just nearly moving to do so—

That was until the popping rumble of a nearby explosion interrupted his thoughts.

You jumped against him, muffling a scream in his shoulder.

His heart ached.

 “(Y/N), I know this is all scary,” Hawks’s voice came through your sensational slurry. “But, I need to be back out there right now.”

“No.” Your mouth spewed with no discernable thoughts behind it. “Don’t leave. Please, don’t. Please.”

You caught Hawks’ wince, but barely. 

He was already repositioning you, scooting you under one of the countertops, “Angel, I’m sorry. I need to go, but I’ll be back. I promise.”

Your eyes screwed shut, vibrating in your skull as pulling your uninjured leg to your chest. 

Hawks looked equally as torn up about having to leave, brows creased with his lip worried between his teeth.  

Despite how messy your brain felt, you knew that you were beyond defenseless. Even if your mind could easily conjure up an infinite number of ways to bring a person non-lethal (and lethal) pain, you were turning to mush mentally and you had glass sticking out of your leg. You had no fucking way to create it with your body. 

Your back hit the wall under the counter and you managed to wrench your eyes open, taking in Hawks and his visage while you spun.

He looked so sad.

The feeling of mourning and fear spat so hotly in your mind, it was like you’d been intangibly burned by his expression. 

You choked on your own stored tears, reaching out for him.

He caught one of your hands, the wrapped one, and squeezed it lightly. 

Even with so few feathers left, Hawks plucked one, about the size of your forearm. He replaced his hand with the plumage. 

“(Y/N), I will be back. I promise,” Hawks (so weakly) smiled, trying to reassure you. “You snap that feather if anything changes, okay? If anyone comes into the shop who isn’t another pro, or if you start to feel faint. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.” You gritted out, somehow laughing. Your vocal cords rubbing together sends a wave of agony up the back of your neck, burying behind your eyes. You press your forehead in your bent knee. 

 With one last, fleeting look, eyeing your wound and remembering slate-colored eyes, Keigo took flight into the fray once more. 

Keigo hated leaving you. He hated it so fucking much. It burned him, felt wrong in every way. You were so vulnerable in your state. Both of you knew that without him there, you were entirely exposed and fairly defenseless.  

It perked up that protective instinct he’d repeatedly had towards you for months. It was probably something related to his avian mutation, but it was just blood-boiling need to keep you safe.

Yet, he just left you, wounded and mentally spiraling, in the middle of a destroyed building.

If he wasn’t trained so well, he would have acted differently. But, it had been burned into him time and time again what his needs were in disaster situations.

Neutralize, stabilize, clear out. 

Through his exhaustion, he fought and soared with all he had, fatigue forgotten and replaced by hot cortisol. He forced himself faster, zipping down alleyways and across rooftops at some of his top speeds. 

While Keigo tracked down all of the villains (he managed to miss the first time), he trusted that the other Pros could deal with the heavy collateral damage. He was number two, he could catch some organized criminals. 

Beyond his training, Keigo had an even bigger motivation. 

He could feel you.

The feather he left with you must’ve been pressed right up to your chest, maybe under your neck with the way Keigo could so intensely feel your breath and heartbeat. He could sense it gradually speeding up to the point of what had to be panic. If Keigo focused, he could make out your terror-stricken babbling.

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“This is fine.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Hawks is okay.”

“He’ll come back.”

“He won’t leave.”

...

“Everything's gonna be okay.”

With that last one, your words gave out and it turned in gasping breaths. 

Keigo worked himself harder, striking down the last of villains with absolute precision, all distractions forgotten in the most pivotal moments of combat. 

The instant the villains were in custody, restrained, he was flying back towards the tea shop.

 You don’t remember any of this well. Your mind was liquified, your body throbbing in pain. 

It had been an incredibly long time, years since you’d been in any situation resembling a villain attack. There was no way to stop the synesthetic storm that was choking your mind. Every sensation was magnified, mixed with another, and shoved down your throat without any ability to change it.

A few minutes after Hawks left, giving you time to stew and roll, you spiraled more harshly.

When you realized how pitifully helpless you were, you fell away, pressing your wet face into the Hawks’s feather. Your vision muddled between black and red. 

You felt the cold of the blood wetting your pant leg.

Your wound is bad.

You hadn’t fully looked at it in awhile. 

Opening your eyes, you suppressed a wave of nausea at the small puddle of blood growing under the bottom half of your useless leg. 

The way the denim of your jeans stuck to your skin mixed with the smell heady smell of blood made you gag. 

You couldn’t keep it up anymore.

Letting your eyes shut, you sank down to the floor, cheek pressed into the dirty cement. 

You don’t know how long you idled, drowning in your mind’s colors and vibrantly violent sensations. 

You were only half-conscious when the feather pressed to your neck twitches.

 “(Y/N)!” Keigo shouted as he landed in the teashop, flying straight to the backroom, bypassing the mess of broken glass. 

His breath caught, seeing you slumped over.

“Fuck,” Keigo couldn’t stop the tremble in his voice as he noticed how much blood had pooled beneath your injured ankle. “Hey, hey, (Y/N)—”

He sure fucking sucked at admitting his faults, and recognizing the severity of wounds was indeed one of them. He didn’t usually stick around long enough to deal with casualties so closely. 

Keigo threw off his gloves, tossing them behind him without looking. 

“‘M fine,” You started to push yourself up, hissing at the pain that surged from cuts in your hands. “Brain’s mushy.”

“That all?” Thank god Hawks still managed to joke. The humor dashed across your vision like little sparks. You stifle a weak snort. 

 “There’s my angel.” Keigo was so relieved to see you conscious that he didn’t notice his own possessive slipup. “Are you lightheaded?”

Gingerly, he helped stabilize your body upright as you wrenched your eyes open.

“A little, it’s okay, this is what happens,” Your voice was so loud in your own skull, it hurt. Though, the pain of your words was only a prick in the wet dough of your overworked mind. Sensation was pain, rolling over you and making it harder and harder to stay lucid. 

 Keigo swallowed thickly at the sight of your fully-blackened irises. 

He needed to get you out as fast as possible, but that required assessing the gash in your leg. 

His gaze flickered to your ankle, “Can you move your toes?”

“I don’t want to.”

Keigo frowned, weakly, pushing you as upright as possible as you began to slip to the side. 

“Please, you have to try, okay?” Keigo begged, not noticing his own voice wobble. 

You shook your head, grabbing it in within its own motion. The dizziness made your insides knot and stick together. 

“(Y/N), please.”

You shifted your gaze to him, vision tilting as you did. 

The frown on your face split as you just barely moved your toes within your blood-soaked shoe.

The fresh pain, vibrant and boiling, cut through the fog like a heat-blackened knife. 

Your own fist flew into your mouth to mouth to suppress the cry that bubbled from your throat. You half-recognized it was the one holding Hawks’s feather. 

You couldn’t see the way Keigo flinched at the sound, immediatly trying to soothe the two of you. 

 “Alright, good, okay, you can still feel them,” Hawks managed to laugh, cutting into the miasma of your psyche. It was something light and airy, tasting like packet sugar on the sides of your tongue. 

Chasing the goodness of Hawks’s voice, you mustered up as much clarity as you could grasp, willing yourself into full sentences, “Hawks. I swear to fucking God, if you do not get me out of here right now, I will never make you a drink ever again.”

 Keigo blinked at you, nodding, watching your attempt to focus on him, though the fully inked irises seemed to refuse to stay put.

 So, this is what the file meant about the cost of your quirk. 

 “Don’t have to tell me twice, dove.” Hawks scooped you up before you could manage to put more thoughts together. A few of his feathers flew to stabilize your injured leg. 

His touch felt good, like incredibly good. Even as the crunch of his boots on the broken glass of the tea shop scratched at your inner ears and burned your sinuses, the heat and texture of his jacket caressed over your cheeks. His warmth tasted like honey and cream. 

Your head lolled onto his chest, idly playing with the filaments of his feathers that you refused to let go of. 

 (Keigo didn’t want you to, anyway.)

He couldn’t fly well, not in his mostly-featherless state, so he took to walking instead. He sidestepped as much glass he could, mostly watching your half-lidded eyes fixate on the feather you had pressed up to your face.

It was a weird circle, Keigo feeling your heat and breath so close, both on his body and on the sensitive plumage. Technically, he was doing his job, so he let himself indulge just the smallest bit in being so close to you. When Keigo squeezed you, nearly at the medic’s area, you tucked your face into his collarbones, breaths slowing from panic. You were even slack in his grip.

A paramedic rushed up to the two of you, guiding you to a setup stretcher and a waiting line of ambulances.

 “We can take it from here, Hawks, no need to stick around,” The paramedic’s voice cut through the air, dripping bitterness on your tonsils and iron nails in your lungs. 

Hawks set you half-down onto the lip of the vehicle, “Nah, it’s okay, I’ll hang out with them for a sec. They’re a friend of mine.”

He’d never said it before. That you were friends. 

Heat rushed up to your fingertips, sweetness washing over your wounded leg, topped off silken air settling around your ears. 

You’d drown in the sensation, a million times over.

 The paramedic ran off quickly, a man with a nasty head wound taking precedence over your leg (which seemed to have clotted somewhat with your somewhat more relaxed state). 

Hawks still didn’t leave.

Rather, he moved closer.

So did you.

 From your spot sitting on the edge of the ambulance, your injured leg was twisted and propped up while the other dangled off the edge of the vehicle.

Keigo was right up against the metal, allowing you to lean on his side.

“You good?” You asked him, bumping your leg into his lower back.

Keigo couldn’t help jumping. You’d never casually touched him. 

(He really liked it.)

Though the setting and circumstances were fucked, he figured it was okay. 

You were friends, right?

 Hawks wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pressing you into his side.

You took it a step further, wanting to simply soak in the amber, milky feeling of his touch. 

You squish your cheek low against his collarbone, drinking in the smell of his sweat, stale, spiced cologne, and rich, expensive smelling hair oil. 

The scents washed over your skin, rolling over your burning wounds like aloe and clean water.  

“Thank you.” Your voice is small and soft, kept gentle by your last sparks of lucidity. 

You heard Hawks chuckle, your vision swimming in honey and yellow with the sound, “Just doing my job, you know.”

“I mean, yeah,” You laughed too, pressing your nose harder into him. “But, it’s you, and I’m just glad you’re here.”

“You better stop being so sweet,” The hand around your shoulder rubbed slowly, up and down your spine, sweet spices and sugars dancing on the roof of your mouth. “Gonna give me ideas.”

The touch, something you craved and denied yourself, pushed you over the edge as his touch dissolved across your overstimulated mind in cresting waves of rushing, blessed heat. 

Finally succumbing to the flood of your quirk, drowning your mind in both agony and absolute calm, you muttered out the last clear thing you said that evening, “We always give each other ideas, silly.”

God, the many meanings behind your words spun and stuck in Keigo’s mind like the taste of the miel he drank that morning. They relentlessly clung to his psyche, wanting to know more. 

He stayed close while you were assessed and strapped into the ambulance. He sent a few of his last feathers to retrieve your jacket and purse from the wrecked shop.

All the while you clutched his bare hand, irises black while the whites turned bloodshot. 

As the ambulance drove off towards that public hospital, he could feel the steady beat of your heart through the crimson feather he made sure was tucked in your hand the moment he had to let it go.

He felt you squeeze it, and he wanted nothing more than to return the gesture a thousand times over.  

[faean]

Prince Sidon x Male Reader (Part 1/2)

Rating: T; Mentions of Blood/Death

Word Length: 1,960 words

Title: The Prince’s Folly

             -----

          “What’s a Hylian doing in Zora’s Domain?”

          “Isn’t he the one who used to live in Hyrule Castle teaching magic?”

          “Didn’t he travel the world? Why’d he choose to stay here after the Calamity?”

          “Did you hear? King Dorephan tasked him with slaying the Lynel since it’s been resurrected. I hope he survives...”

          “The council is hoping he doesn’t make it. They’re still so angry at the Hylians and their Champion, even after Mipha’s spirit told us not to be remorseful.”

          “I can’t believe it! He actually slew the beast! The Prince even saw him deliver the finishing blow. He’s been telling everyone about it.”

          “For a Hylian, he sure ages like a Zora. It’s been over 50 years and he doesn’t look a day older. He’s even taller than the average Hylian. I wonder if it’s because of his magic.”

          “Do you think the rumors are true? They say he isn’t interested in women. There have been a few female Hylians, Gerudo, even female Zora and Gorons approach him and he’s politely declined them all.”

          “I think the rumors might be true. He acts differently when around the Prince, and the Prince has been spending more time with him, too.”

          It’s been almost 75 years, and every day still brings something new. Sometimes it’s the council coming up with some asinine task for you to complete to get you to leave the domain, even if you always complete them with little difficulty. Sometimes it’s patrolling the borders and the dam. Sometimes it’s going out for more supplies. And, after every blood moon, you leave to confront the Lynel that terrorizes the Zora atop Ploymus Mountain. After so many decades, the fights end swiftly and without incident.

          Until recently.

          The Zora Prince, Sidon, has been spending every bit of free time with you. He joins you on patrols, short trading journeys, and the tasks the council sends you on, much to their dismay. Unfortunately, their hatred against Hylians seems to overrule their worry about the sole heir of the Zora. Either they are resentful he holds no grudges against Hylians like they do, or they actually recognize your skill and don’t fear for his safety. Hopefully, it was the latter.

          You didn’t mind his company, of course. For a while, most of the Zora were wary of you, though the younger generations, including Sidon’s, were much less discriminatory and more friendly, even going so far as to argue against some of the council’s decisions. There was one thing about Sidon’s presence that bothered you, though.

          You were hopelessly in love with him, and you had the sensation that he knew, considering the rumors surrounding your interactions with female suitors. It wasn’t until your most recent excursion to slay the revived Lynel once more that everything was brought to light…

          Many decades ago, back when I first moved to the Zora’s Domain after the Calamity, King Dorephan asked me to fight a Lynel atop a nearby mountain that had been terrorizing the Zora after the power of Calamity Ganon brought it back on a Blood Moon.

          As a Hylian, the shock arrows it fired would not be immediately fatal to me, and my prowess with magic was renowned, having granted me longevity and the opportunity to teach Princess Zelda (though, her obsession with ancient Sheikah technology limited my involvement). For me, (Y/N) (L/N), the Master of Magic, it would have been easy.

          Would have been.

          During the battle, I managed to avoid every one of the beast’s attacks, and had dealt several serious blows; however, the Lynel’s natural resistance to all the elements drained me of my energy as I used stronger and more costly spells to counter it. I had received some training with spears, bows, and blades, but not enough to rival that of a savage and cunning Lynel. Near the end of the battle, a certain young Prince had become entranced and stepped out further from his hiding place where he was watching.

          The Lynel did not hesitate to take aim, and the young Prince was frozen in fear. He didn’t see what happened next, too afraid to open his eyes until he heard my voice softly comforting him.

          There was no sign of the Lynel, just a jagged pillar of earth and the spoils of the slain beast. The Prince completely forgot his fear and was gushing over me and the battle, unaware of the cost of my victory. I escorted him back, presenting the spoils to the King as proof before leaving to my own home. Once alone, I uttered a few cryptic words and my clothing turned a deep crimson red.

          Now, he joined you again, but with your knowledge and the intent to fight. You instructed him on the beast’s tactics and abilities, as well as your usual strategy. You would wait until it put away its sword and shield to charge at you, and you would proceed to meet it head on by sliding underneath it to slay it in a single blow. Expending most of your magical energy, you focused it in between your hands before expending it all in a single devastating strike, piercing through its underside and disintegrating most of its body.

          With the Prince at your side, and with his skill with a bow, he’d get the beast’s attention before you struck it from behind. A simple diversion, yet wholly effective in theory. Even if the Lynel charged him, the Prince was more than capable with a spear.

          At least, that was the idea.

          The Lynel, in its cruel intelligence, was aligned perfectly with the Prince, preventing you from delivering the final blow. It cocked its shock arrows, ignoring the Prince’s own shots. Without hesitation and further thought, you dashed in front of the of the Prince and took the hit, just like you did all those years ago.

          Sidon’s eyes went wide with fear and realization as he saw the electricity course through your body, three arrows embedded across your chest. He watched as you shakily stood and proceeded to take a deep breath, blood pouring from your wounds as you raised your hands. He shielded his eyes from the bright light that followed, and when he could finally see again, all that was left were the creature’s weapons, parts, and a sizable crater in the ground from your attack. He meant to congratulate you, but you staggered and fell before he could, staining the grass blood red.

          -----

          “You have scars on your thighs… This isn’t the first time you took a Lynel’s arrows for me, is it?”

          The Prince was sitting at the foot of the large bed you were in, having brought you back to receive medical attention. He wouldn’t meet your gaze as you sat up, wincing at the pain and holding back a string of swears. You looked over at the Prince, saddened by how hurt he looked. He always wore a smile on his face, bringing cheer to the Zora people and working to keep the peace. He was treasured among his people, and even Lurelin Village and beyond, having saved them from a massive Octorok.

          But now? He had no smile; his eyes were dull, and his shoulders slumped.

          “My Prince … do not blame yourself. I made my choice that day, just as I made my choice today. It’ll take a lot more than a few arrows to take me down, and I would gladly take another if it meant keeping you safe.”

          Sidon was silent for a few moments before he wiped the tears from his face, turning to you with a bright smile and saying, “Have I told you just how much I appreciate everything you do? Because I really do appreciate all you do!”

          Admittedly, it was a little forced, but you still thought it admirable.

          “All right, now that that’s out of the way, I need a nap. I’m exhausted, and this isn’t my bed.” You breathed out as you rolled your shoulders.

          There was a brief pause before Sidon sheepishly told you that it was actually his bed you’ve been resting in for the past few days, since the healers thought it wasn’t a good idea to carry you all the way to your house while injured.

          “Wait, if I’ve been out for several days, then where have you been sleeping?” You asked, more worried about the Prince’s sleep than your own self.

          “… I’ve been here. I couldn’t bring myself to leave your side. The healers said you might not pull through, and I prayed to Mipha’s spirit to watch over you… The King … My father says it was survivor’s guilt, but I… (Y/N) … It was much more than that…” Sidon made his way around the bed to sit beside you.

          A massive blush spread across your face with how close he was, fortunately, he was looking down at the bed and not at you, though you would rather he met your gaze.

          “(Y/N), for an awfully long time now, I have been wishing to spend every day by your side. It’s why I join you on your assignments and invite you to every event I must attend. It’s why I convinced you and my father to let me fight beside you, but…” Sidon, without realizing it, took your hand in his, holding on to it as he spoke.

          “When you protected me, I remembered … I remembered when I was young and watched your fight with the Lynel for the first time, much like my sister had with the Hylian Champion. You had protected me back then, and you hid your injuries from me and even walked me all the way back home…” You felt him squeeze your hand as he continued, and you instinctively moved closer to him, coming to lean against him.

          “In that moment of realization, I knew exactly why I wished to be with you.”

          He turned to face you, taking your other hand is his own and leaning down, his eyes closed by the time his lips connected with yours. You melted into him, happily kissing back.

          -----

          Several (more) years went by, and you could not be happier. You and Sidon were officially a couple, and although the King was hesitant about your relationship at first, he saw how much joy you brought to Sidon, and that showed in everything he did. He accepted it, much to the further dismay of the council. Also a few of the female Zora who were huge fans of the Prince, but most were simply happy that he was happy. Sort of…

          -----

          “(Y/N), my beloved! You’ve returned! How was your trip?” The Prince asked when he reunited with you, sweeping you off your feet as he enveloped you in a hug.

          “Hot. Cold. I always forget the extremes of the Gerudo Desert until I inevitably return for some supplies. I’m just glad my contact is still willing to trade on my behalf. Anyway, let me drop off some things and I’ll meet you back in your room.” You punctuated this with a quick kiss to Sidon’s hand as he let you go.

          He was more than excited that you were back, not because you’ve been gone for a couple of weeks, but because he had been planning something special to mark your next anniversary, which takes place just a few days from today. The two of you have been through a lot since you got together, you more than him with how the council acts, but it bothered him more than you, funnily enough. Especially when they tried to convince him that conceiving a future heir was more important than love and happiness.

          Which got him thinking…

          -----

          Part 2: TBD

[perhapsthanatos]

10:32 pm with yuta ♡

nct’s yuta x fem!reader (got inspired by a dream of mine & found the idea really cute)

alternate title: be the james dean to my audrey hepburn

genre: fluff. a pinch of angst. non idol au. badboy!yuta au.

word count: 1400~

playlist: chinatown by wild nothing, lover’s rock by tv girl & work this time by king gizzard and the lizard wizard.

warnings: featuring johnny (not a warning though). smoking cigarettes. cursing. lowercase intended. not proofread.

a/n: hi i was supposed to post a vampire!haechan fic but i really wasnt happy w it in general :( the plot or overall idea of the fic was really good, but i just felt as if i didnt do it justice so here we are :( but ngl, i kind of like this concept more? maybe bc i can see it more vividly? idk, i feel like my writings r getting repetitive & its getting on my nerves lmaoo this is getting long im sorry do u guys even read this part anyway? i would also like to apologize abt the amount of projecting im doing lmao ive been having some rough days & i love my sister but hate being compared to her so often so this is a way for me to rant abt it ig? also so sorry its coming out a little later bc i woke up late today (& procrastinated for the rest of it so here i am posting really late at night) & decided to go to the convenience store to get ice cream (& a ton of other bad shit pls dont do this its rlly unhealthy) for breakfast bc i can :) any who, enjoy lovelies <3

“oh my, y/n! you’ve grown up so well! just like your sister!”

“oh! i’m sorry i’ve almost mistaken you for your sister! y/n is your name, correct?”

“y/n, darling, you are looking so dashing! you really do resemble your sister, don’t you?”

“ah, you must be y/n! i’ve heard all about you and your sister from your father!”

you swear that your reddening cheeks are threatening to fall off any moment now from all the fake smiling. the hundreds of superficial compliments, the insincere flattery and the need for these people to constantly compare you to your godforsaken sister makes you feel even weaker than you are. it gets harder and harder to keep up with a big persona that isn’t at all you. as lucky as you are to live such a lavish lifestyle, you can’t help but hate how your family has to be so perfect. you hate how you have never fit in with them, even if you are so good at faking it. you hate how you have always been stuck in your sister’s shadow, constantly haunted with the reminder that you yourself aren’t good enough. you hate how you now have to entertain the rich and brainless guests at your parent’s gala because she’s gone for some stupid prodigy competition and everyone is only talking about her in front of your face. so what if she’s better the better sister? you still have the right to earn respect, right?

you’re exhausted from all the small talk. your facade gets more brittle by the second under all the pressure. your body feels as if it's gonna give out due to your brain shutting down after all that interacting. you try to keep on going with the night as it unravels itself by being the perfectly poised poster child, trying to make your parents proud. but alive yet almost completely devoid, you decide enough was enough. what if you left right now? no one would notice, would they?

after pulling up your phone discreetly to send a few text messages, you pass through lots of people dressed in gold and finery in a way that wouldn’t have you noticed right away. keep your head down and don’t you dare make eye contact with anyone. nearing the end of the room, grabbing the first glass of whatever alcohol you see and downing it in one gulp, you start walking away as quickly as possible from the ballroom. “ignorant privileged fucks,” you angrily whisper to no one in particular, setting the now empty glass on whatever surface and begin to head to the main exit where no one could spot you running away.

“and what do you think you’re doing here, miss?”

a voice interrupts you, looking up you see that it is your father’s head butler; johnny. he is dressed in a simple black suit that makes him appear taller than he is. his long brown hair is slicked back and his bowtie seems brand new. you have known the man since he started working in your household less than ten years back. you were a reckless child, often trying to find ways to sneak out, finding a way to escape from this life and he sympathized with you. after all, he could barely imagine living your life, never catching a break for yourself and always pretending to be someone you weren’t. he often helped planning when you would sneak out into the night, scheduling things like what time you should leave and what time you should be back, more specifically a time when no one would notice. he would take care of your form of transportation and have your location on at all times, just to be extra safe. as much as he wants you to have fun and have a bit of freedom, he still worries that something might happen to you. because of all this, you two have grown to have a very strong bond. you could confidently say that he is most definitely a parental figure in your life since your parents (and even your sister) are often overseas for work.

“what do you think i’m doing? you think i wanna be in a room with those half-baked bipeds? fuck no!”

“i know, i was just joking. you looked like you were about to explode in there, i wish i could help.” he laughs, pulling out his phone preparing what you might need. “so what will it be for today? the driver? we just need to pay him to keep his mouth shut. a taxi? it’s cheaper than paying the driver, but you still need to pay… not like that’s a problem for you though. maybe an uber would be good enough—“

“actually, i got myself covered. thanks.”

his jaw slightly drops and his eyebrows furrow. he looks straight at you in shock. “what do you mean you got yourself covered?”

you look down at your feet, a nervous habit. “i got myself a ride, you don’t need to help me. i’ll be back as soon as dawn comes.”

he raises his eyebrow. “who’s your ride?”

“doesn’t matter,” you glance down at your phone seeing a notification and wave a goodbye, leaving rather suddenly. “i gotta go, i’ll text you when you need to open the gates!”

“y/n! wait! who’s your ride— and she’s gone.” johnny sighs, watching as you run towards the front gates, tossing your stiletto heels away on the grass while you’re at it. he heads back inside, silently hoping you’ll be fine.

knocking the window of the old black mustang parked outside behind the big bushes, the driver rolls down his window and sends the most charming smile.

yuta in his black beanie, long blonde hair, worn out doc martens, signature leather jacket and black skinny jeans. it almost makes you laugh on how he wears the same thing almost everyday but still manages to look so good.

he is most notable for having a big bad boy reputation and you knew that he was the breath of fresh air you needed in your life. a person who can understand having the pressure of having to be or to fulfill your persona. a person you can completely be yourself around. a person who is full of warmth no matter how cold he may seem on the outside.

“get in, princess.”

and that was all you needed. you tiredly walked to the other door and sat yourself in the car. rolling his window back up, he looks at you. you are wearing a simple yet stunning black dress along with silver jewelry adorned on your neck and wrists. your makeup is perfectly done but still struggles to hide the fog in your eyes. he has the sudden urge to clear them away. he softens at the sight of you. no one is perfect, but he finds you being perfect enough without ever having to dress up.

“where to?” he asks as gently as he could. he knows that you are most vulnerable during these moments and that it is hard to finally break down your walls after a day full of stress, so he doesn’t pry immediately. all he wants to do is to keep you here, safe and away from your burdens and for you to stay comfortable with him, even if it couldn't be for long. but is that too selfish of him to ask? he hates how you hate your life and it is taking every bone in his body to not run away with you. but who is he to tell you what to do or what to change anyway? all he can do for now is try to find a way to make you genuinely smile.

“take me anywhere,” you whisper to the latter. “i just want to be as far from myself and my life as possible. miles away or the nearest convenience store, just take the long way home before dawn.”

you look down at the cup holders, spotting an open cigarette box. you tug one out of the nineteen and light it with the lighter you kept in your pocket. you lean back and close your eyes. he only admires as you bring the cigarette to your lips, exhaling a cloud of smoke afterwards. letting the radio play quietly, he starts the car and begins to drive away from the mansion. he can’t help but wonder how you (an elegant daughter) and him (a bad boy) are millions of worlds apart, but more similar than you think.

© perhapsthanatos (efa)

[thecaptainhelm]

Every Tap of My Heart

Here’s a  valentine’s gift for @savagenutella46, whose a lovely person! Here’s my gift of writer love for a fellow maribat enthusiast, hope you have a wonderful day fit for a wonderful person. xoxo uwu [insert heart heart winky face heart eyes rose]

Thanks to the moderator @eat0crow for setting this up so nicely, ily all!

In a small office, one of the many in the college of liberal arts building, two people sat across from one another in an awkward manner. One, a rather tall, tan, and robust young man with a relaxed and loose posture, and the other, a much smaller brown, older gentleman, salt and peppered hair and frown lines around his mouth.

“Mr. Wetherby,” the young man said in greeting.

“Jonathan.” Mr. Wetherby deadpanned in return. There was a slight pause between the two before the older gentleman spoke again.

“Well, how are you progressing with your midterm project Jonathan? You were well ahead of your peers the last I observed. I trust you have maintained this pace?”

Jon grinned at this, rather than being intimidated by the scholarly demeanor of his professor. Many of his classmates were intimidated by Mr. Wetherby if not for his surprisingly deep voice, then for the juxtaposition of his gentle appearance and his strict teaching. He had only ever felt amused.

“Yes sir, everything is going well. I’ve already checked the business’s schedule and set a meeting with the owner to have a short interview. Everything is totally in order.”

Mr. Wetherby stoically gazed at Jon’s silly grin as they conversed and didn’t say anymore. He simply nodded, typed a few phrases in the computer and turned the screen to Jon. 

“Very good. With this the meeting is complete and you’ve received full marks for the student-teacher progress report. Have a nice day, Jonathan.”

“Right sir, thank you sir, you too sir,” Jon smiled, bright and goofy, unmoving from his seat.

Mr. Wetherby gained a slight tick near his temple.

“Mr. Kent.” The young man blinked, tilting his head with a look comparable to a puppy dog.

“Yes, Mr. Wetherby?”

“You may leave now,” He spoke through gritted teeth. “Have. A good. Day.”

“Right sir, of course sir!” Jon bounced up and carelessly packed his things away. “Have a good day sir!” He energetically left the room and before the remaining occupant could so much as sigh, Jon popped back in, dark hair flopping into his eyes.

“Oh yeah, are we still on for patrol or are you going to call in--”

“Beat it, Corncob!”

“Hahaha!” Jon cackled and dashed away to complete his assignment. Anyone who saw him would do a double take. It seemed as though he was gliding on air, though he wasn’t moving particularly fast. People shrugged and moved about their day, too busy to really care.

Jon Kent was just strange like that.

Sometime later in the evening, the tall and somewhat awkwardly bulky Jon Kent nervously shuffled his way through Metropolis, carefully moving around busy pedestrians and apologizing in a fluster when he didn’t move carefully enough. He knocked into one final person and sheepishly grinned at the irate grunt before arriving at his target location. La Bonne Fée.

The building was sizable, enough space for a backroom, restrooms, a cozy kitchen facility, counter, and booths for people to sit and relax, with enough space left over to not feel compact. The furnishings were all warm, comfortable and the decorations had a slight vintage feel from a  bygone era of classy etiquette and manners. Through the door he could clearly hear the music of an old school juke-box, playing a Jagged Stone album.

Jon had come to such a café to ask the owner for an interview for the school financial magazine’s new column dedicated to new and upcoming businesses.

Some would ask if Jon lost his touch, others if he was touched in the head. Why would he interview a brand new café, one not even a part of a chain, when they were practically all over the city selling the same thing as their competitors.

Jon swallowed hard, and knocked on the softwood door. He picked up a jumping pulse and saw though the window a head of dark hair quickly poke out from behind the counter. His palms had become sweaty and his own heart jumped in his chest when soft footsteps quickly paced to the door and was pulled open with a silent, breathless smile.

“Jon, hey!” Marinette Dupain-Cheng looked up at him with bright grey eyes, almost silver under the city lights and his heart really kicked into high gear then, only slightly less embarrassing when he heard her heart doing the same.

“Glad you could make it,” She nervously fixed the hem of her sweater and pulled her apron on straight.

“Me too,” He smiled at her and was fine getting lost on her eyes before she cleared her throat and held the door wider.

“Would you like to, um if you would--?”

“Oh right, yeah, yeah, yes please, um,” Jon gulped and grinned strangely. He walked in with small quick steps through the door, taking extra care to not bump into her and send the smaller woman three inches through the flooring. God, he wouldn’t ever live that down if that actually happened.

“Well, I’ll grab some refreshments while you set everything up. Be back in a bit,” Marinette grinned as she led him to a booth near the front, out of view of the windows and moved to the counter with a stiff gait. He sat, pulling out his notebook, his voice recorder, pencils and two copies of the agreed upon interview questions. He fiddled with the materials, trying to distract himself from Marinette’s sounds, her heartbeat, her slight hitches in breath as she moved, the sound her petite fingers made when rubbing against the foam cups, all to no avail.

Yes, that’s a suspicious amount of attention to a single, pretty young woman in the city, but he couldn’t help it. He pressed down on the indentation of his index finger, reveling in the simultaneous sensations of hearing and feeling her heartbeat in person.

He couldn’t help it because she was his soulmate.

Jon’s soulmate mark was one he had from birth, thought to be a deformity but what was actually a touch based soul mark. Pressing it would allow him to feel the pulse and heartbeat of his soulmate, so long as they were alive in this life. The doctors had actually thought there might be a twin or a second heart while he was in the womb, but an x-ray via Superman showed that he was a  lone healthy baby. 

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a small, triracial young woman, with delicate features, a barely noticeable spread of freckles across a small nose and round grey eyes that turned into happy crescents when she beamed wide and unrestrained. This was all he knew about her, from their brief interactions while they set up the interview, all skin deep and superficial knowledge that he wanted to get past. 

This was his soulmate and he knew he shouldn’t rush, but there were so many things that she would have to know about him, things he shouldn’t and couldn’t hide from her, at least not forever, but how was he going to bring up being a superhero? No, wait, how was he going to bring up being half extraterrestrial?! She’d freak!

He tried to relax. He only found out the Marinette was his soulmate when he asked if she would let him interview her and couldn’t help but compare her heart rate to the one on his finger, further panicking when he saw her press her fingertips together in glee and saw the imprint of his finger upon her own. From there he saw that her index finger would snugly fit the imprint on his and he knew it, beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was his soulmate, that special person the universe found matched perfectly to him in every way that counted. He’d studied and pressed and listened to this heartbeat, wanting to press his head against her back to study and listen in the flesh for years, all before he knew who she was and that she was his and he was hers.

He pressed on it as she walked back to their booth, watching and smiling as she relaxed somewhat, lightly stroking her thumb along her finger as she set the tray of cookies and coffea, the cafe’s specialty fusion drink.

“Sorry for the wait,” She neatly placed the cookies between them after setting down their drinks. He watched the quick and graceful way she tucked the tray into her seat beside her before sending him a dazzling grin that briefly scrambled his brain.

He gaped before managing to stutter out a lame “no trouble” and Marinette merely grinned, cheeks pink. He could dually understand her heart at this time and couldn’t help becoming more flustered. His dumb brain was making him think Marinette had a crush on him, when she was probably just nervous and excited for the interview.

Yeah, that’s all there is to it, nothing more to it at all, he told himself while watching her cheeks darken. 

It wasn’t anything more.

“Well, here’s to a good interview?” Marinette nervously giggled as she raised her cup and Jon did the same without a second thought, only realizing his mistake when she saw his soulmark and paled, honing in like a bat out of hell. He tensed trying to think of an excuse or a lie or something to say but he was stuck. Hope clogged his throat and desire pressed down his tongue.

“You have a soulmark?” She asked after a lengthy pause.

“Y-yes, I do.” His voice cracked from bad nerves and excitement.

“I do too. Touch based.” Her eyes pierced through his soul and pinned him on the spot. He couldn’t leave even if he wanted to.

“Cool. Super cool! I have one too, touch based like yours, yep! Cool!” Jon bobbed his head fervently, searching her gaze and found that she seemed to have the same idea as him. Her hand stretched to the middle of the table and waited for him to meet her in the middle. When he reached, slow and steady, it exposed the subtle quaking of his hand, revealing his inner feelings. He was comforted by the fact that her hand was shaking across from him too. It was a relief she felt the same.

Finally, the fingers touched, a small pale finger tapping two knuckles against the back of his. His shoulders tensed, Marinette mirroring him beat for beat as shoulder collapsed in devastation.

If Jon had thought that feeling Marinette’s heartbeat secondhand was an amazing feeling, then all the wonders of the accumulated sensation were nothing compared to this one touch. The pure physical sensation of another being pulsed through him, the echoing din that had been with him unnoticed all this time becoming known as he melted into himself, feeling it destroy him gently and lovingly.

“Wow,” Marinette breathed shakily. “Wow, I’ve, I never thought,”--an incredulous laugh-- “That was…”

She trailed off taking in his enraptured expression.

“Yeah, me too.” He grinned in wonder. His eyes bored into her own, falling deeper into her spell.

They stared at each other before Marinette finally broke the silence.

“Bonsoir.” She extended her other hand, unwilling to break contact.

“Hi.” He firmly grasped it, giving a strong shake. “Jonathan Kent, miss. Pleased to meet you.”

Marinette smiled beatifically. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The pleasure is all mine, Jon.”

The End

[lenacker]

Lovebirds

Summary: Captain Levi and Petra’s skill in titan-killing was definitely admirable but romance-wise? They’re just idiots. Erd was definitely much smarter than them combined. And he spent about 17 years to realize he’s in love with his childhood bestie.

Word Count: 1336

FFN | AO3

For two of supposedly the best soldiers in Survey Corps, Petra and Captain Levi were unreasonably dumb. Just a couple of idiots. Like, seriously. Assessing the battlefield and taking actions accordingly? Easy-peasy. Piece of cake.

Realizing they consider each other as more than superior officers and subordinates?

Nah.

Petra has been crushing on Captain for as long as Erd remembers. It’s not even a secret. Probably Captain Levi was the only one who didn’t know because, as he said before, he’s very dumb romance-wise. Petra went from a ‘Humanity’s Strongest’ hardcore fan to a disappointed fan (because he’s not as great as she thought-short and irritating), to just fell freely in love. If he got a coin for every time she mentions Captain in her sentences, he would be super-rich. Wait- that could be a fun dare for their next Friday night truth or dare!

She’s a very nice girl (woman, she definitely would scold him if he calls her girl once more. I’m a full-grown woman, Erd! Stop treating me like a teenage girl!) but her nice-ness increased tenfold for their very pleasant captain. She said he’s unapproachable, but she’s always the one who approaches him whenever he’s in one of his ‘you’re all so stupid, a waste of space and I don’t know why I agreed to take you little shits as my squad’ mood.

Every morning, she makes tea for all of the squad members - but with the captain’s preference. Black tea, with all its amazing earthy aroma, with a dash of sugar. She pours it to each cup (With your stupid manly egos, we would run out of the tea stock within a week! Not you, sir.), starting with the Captain’s of course so it’s warm and nice, and fresh.

If Erd doesn’t know them better, he’d say they have a secret-lover-rendezvous almost every night. They talk in his office until late at night, accompanied by another pot of tea and Captain’s stack of paperwork. He’s more of a hit-and-kill person rather than a sit-and-write person, and though he’s not gonna admit it out loud, Petra’s gift in writing and her diligence is about the only reason he can keep up with his paperwork.

There’s no way to know what else happened behind closed doors, but they never show any weird behavior or something like crumpled clothes, hickeys (and honestly it’s really hard to imagine the clean freak captain Levi doing not-so-clean activities).

Anyway, despite her obvious feeling to their superior, she’s surprisingly professional about it. She didn’t suddenly become a flustered-girl-in-love around the Captain, still the same fiery, determined, hard-working Petra.

Due to her smaller stature and different gender than everyone in the squad, when they first train together, Captain Levi tends to give her less or easier job and workout sets. To say Petra was angry was … an understatement. She felt insulted, confronts him and some riot ensues, and honestly, it’s still a mystery to him how the Captain managed to gain Petra’s respect back.

(Gotta investigate it! What a saucy subject, maybe he can ask Hange about it later)

On the contrary, Captain Levi was the one less professional about his feelings. He either sends Petra to the least dangerous condition possible or the closest to him so he could save her anytime. Not that Petra needs it that often anyway.

He talked to her with almost-affectionate (and by almost he means almost non-distinguishable), lower tone. Erd couldn’t even remember the last time he cussed her out, and he hung out with them pretty often. That's a huge thing, considering the intimidating man’s tendency to call people shitty-[noun] and using potty language as daily conversation.

Also, he’s suddenly a bit more chatty to her? Maybe Petra's friendliness started to affect him. Erd was the second-in-command, yet his interaction with his superior mostly consisted of strategies, formations, and a lot of ‘Erd, you’re in command’ with his classic cold, demanding tone. Oluo was often too scared to talk to him and Gunther was naturally silent.

But with Petra, the Captain could say not really necessary, trivial things like “Petra, you should write to your parents more often, they don’t live forever”, or “Do you think Erwin is in a good mood, I’d like to ask him for a new cleaning supplies fund“, or “Petra, brew the tea exactly 4 minutes to get the best taste”

Well, maybe that last two examples were important.

He wondered how much more time they needed to realize their mutual feelings. Erd himself took about 17 years to admit he considered Emily more than a childhood bestie. That’s bad enough. But he definitely was better at romance-field than both Captain Levi and Petra, for he knows their feelings more than they do. God knows how many years it will take before they become more than superior officers and subordinates.

Hmmm. Maybe they just need a little push. Or a lot.

-

Erd walked into the hall, it was the middle of the night and he’s hungry. He still had some food from his latest visit home, but he absolutely hates eating alone. Maybe there’s someone there he could share with. He basically knew everyone in the Survey Corps, so it didn’t really matter who that was.

Oh, actually it does matter.

There they are, the two lovebirds. You know, because they’re small and good at ‘flying’. They’re in that state where Petra gave the Captain his cup of tea and they just stare at each other’s eyes for 4 seconds too long. Erd cleared his throat.

“Good night, fellow insomniac soldier! Captain.”

Captain Levi just nodded his head slightly, Petra smiled.

“Hi, Erd. Why aren’t you sleeping? Missing the missus?”, she took two more cups, setting them side to side to pour the tea in.

“I always miss her, but that’s not why I can’t sleep. I’m starving, but can’t eat these chips alone so I’m looking around for eat-mates!”

Captain put his cup down (Erd still didn’t understand why he held the cup that way. Just training his fingers’ strength?), “Just don’t let the disgusting grease stain my papers”

“Done!” Who wanted to get near the paperwork anyway? Definitely not Erd. “You want some, Petra?”

She just grinned sheepishly, pointing the paper near her with a tilt of her head, “Sorry, don’t wanna stain them”

Ah, that’s a bummer. He really wanted to have at least an eat-mate.

“You sure? It’s divine, you know. Remember the curry you liked last time? These taste similar but better”

She shakes her head once more.

“I could feed you?” He’s really desperate now, he really needed to eat!

Oh. Maybe that’s not a good idea. If looks could kill, he would be dying right here, on the dirty floor by the scary Captain’s look. Alright. No more making that man jealous then.

Petra, oblivious of the shorter man’s reaction because she focused on stirring the two cups without spilling any drop of tea, just pouted, “Erd, I’m not a child! You don’t need to feed me! Just sit here and eat while we chat and do paperwork. Better than eating alone on your bed, right?”

Hmm, maybe. But he didn’t wanna spoil their moments together. So he just acted disappointed, with his best shoulder-slump and kicked puppy look.

“I guess I’ll just go back to bed hungry then, you guys are no fun. Good night Petra, Captain”

His steps towards his bedroom stopped by the Captain’s cold voice,

“Oi”

Erd turned back, “Yes, Captain?”

“Take over the training tomorrow. I need to go take care of something Sina.”

“Oh, okay, sir. You wanna take Petra with you?”

And accidentally get into a scenario where you two realize your feelings or are forced to sleep in one bed?

“Huh? Why would I take Petra? You want some time off, Petra? You should just tell me.”

See? He’s too caring!

“No, sir! I’m completely fine!”

“Okay, I’ll brief you all later. We probably get a new puny member soon”

A/N : This turned out about 3 times longer than I thought it would, writing Erd is a lot of fun!

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Big Decisions | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey my lovelies! I know, right, another story in the same week as my other one?? What has the universe come to! I had this idea the other night and I kind of just rolled with the punches. I'm not sure how good it will be, I haven't written in a while and I had an idea of where I wanted this to go and, as usual, it wrote itself and ended up somewhere else. I'm not sure how much I like it but regardless here it is. I tried to make it as fluffy as I could because that's what I need right now lol. Anyway's I hope you like it! Sorry in advance for how long it is!! All my love until next time <3

Description: Y/n is from an influential family like, but not as powerful, as the Mikaelson's and her father is running for the governor of Virginia. In order to increase voting in favour of her father both families decide to merge. In order to do so Y/n agrees to marry one of the Mikaelson boys. The only problem is that she loves all three of them and can't possibly choose between them.

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None, seriously, don't be afraid of having all three at once, that doesn't need a warning

Word count: 5032

Tags: Fluff (or at least attempted fluff)

(Pics aren't mine but the moodboard is :) )

Your footsteps echo softly down the hallway of the Mikaelson’s mansion. Your heels click the beat of a song you haven’t yet learned the words to into the hardwood. It’s a miracle you can even hear it over the rumble of the party below. A thousand voices reach your ears in a crescendo of “good evening” and “my don’t you look lovely” but it stands as little more than white noise in your mind. Your heartbeat rages with it all, mingling with the greetings of strangers and the song your feet are creating at the same time.

The only thing you can truly think about is last night in the garden. It had been Kol’s idea, actually, to have one last night together. It was a beautiful notion, too, if not one that left four souls aching as though they were only one soul being forced into four different fragmented pieces.

There you sat, four fragmented pieces of one soul, tangled so elegantly that anyone looking in would have to squint to see the separate beings. Your back moulded so perfectly into Elijah’s front that it was as if you were made to never be apart in the first place. Though Klaus’ head fit so perfectly in your lap that it would be madness to think anything but the same. However, both such things ignore the delicate trace of Kol’s lips against your neck and mouth and fingertips in such a way that the night sky hadn’t shone half as bright as the stars he left you seeing. How could you even begin to make a decision.

None of you feel quite right about the arrangement. Your families have been close for a few years now, you having met the Mikaelsons at a founders party in your first year of college. Both of your households are founding families with a lot of influence in many parts of the south-eastern United States. While the Mikaelson’s are renowned, your own family, the Lancaster’s, are less well known. With your father running for governor of Virginia it was decided, quite suddenly, that your two families are to combine in order to gain the needed momentum to win at the polls. You, the only daughter to Mary-Anne and Johnathan Lancaster, are to marry any Mikaelson son of your choosing.

To any other woman in Virginia that offer would be a dream come true. The Mikaelson’s are akin to royalty in the United States. However, every other woman in Virginia hasn’t spent the last two years completely consumed by all three brothers. There are only a handful of moments that you can recall that don’t include even one Mikaelson. Every night you fall asleep wrapped around one of your boys. Each of their scents are permanently ingrained in your memory. How can you choose when no matter who you pick the other two will still be there.

You pace back and forth at the top of the winding staircase, silently dreading the descent. You gather the pilling fabric of your gown into your hands and let the silk cool your fiery skin for a few moments longer. You try to hold on to a few pieces of comfort with it. The way Kol had smelled of honey this morning and the feel of Elijah’s arms around you and the little marks Klaus left that are still fading beneath your bodice. You breathe in each of them before you take the first step.

You don’t want to go down the stairs but the first step only brings you to the second that much faster. You take them one at a time, letting your feet even out before every push forward. At this moment you wish that the stairs would never end. You would rather wind for years as your dress turned to dust around you than face the unrelenting truth that waits at the bottom. You would rather turn to dust than choose.

You come too quickly to the bend in the stairs that will reveal you to the party. The murmurs that were previously dulled are now at their peak, crashing over you with a harsh fury of cheerful nothings. You wish you could immerse yourself in the chatter like any other party however tonight isn’t just another party. It’s the party and families from across the country have gathered in the halls below to hear you make your decision.

With a quick breath in, you bring yourself into the glittering light cast by the chandelier hanging above the sweeping foyer. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust from the dark hallway. When they focus once more the air is sucked from your lungs in a startled gasp that turns every eye in the vicinity towards you. As if a switch has been flicked, every sound in the room dies out until all that is left is the slightest tinkling of the glass above your head and muffled sounds of awe.

You will give them that, the dress Rebekah Mikaelson had picked out for you is stunning. A rose coloured, silk gown that would make any Victorian princess green with envy. It’s strapless in the sense that it has silk that hangs off your shoulders, leaving your skin exposed and dusted with gold. Your hair has been curled and pinned up, allowing for some tendrils to frame your face. Bekah dusted the same gold she used on your shoulders on your eyes, bringing a finishing touch to your look. She truly does work miracles.

Your hand stalls on the railing for a moment, your eyes searching the sea of faces below you. It’s surreal to have all the attention on you. You’re used to being around important people, you yourself are one to most people, but you’ve never felt like you fit in with them. You’re just an ordinary girl after all. An ordinary girl who just happens to have the hearts of three Mikaelson’s in her palm. Now, if you could only spot them amongst the crowd.

As if they can hear their names flowing through your mind, they appear at the base of the steps. You shouldn’t be surprised at how dashing they all look but you’re still left open-mouthed at the sight of them. They're each clad head to toe in all black, the perfect contrast to your dress. The dark to your light and vice versa. They never disappoint.

Your feet begin moving of their own accord to meet them at the bottom of the staircase, the clicking of your heels ricocheting like bullets through the still silent foyer. You can feel their stares like flames on every inch of your exposed skin. The crowd is holding their breath in anticipation of the interaction to come, waiting ready for the moment you make your decision. It feels positively medieval, as if as soon as you choose you will be forced to rip off your clothes and mate for the court to see and deem your bond official. It’s too bad if that’s what they're expecting. They would be in for quite a shock if they saw the distinct markings of not one but three Mikaelson’s already on your skin.

Three mouthwatering scents swirl around you, encouraging you to move faster. Before you clear the last fifteen or so steps, however, the unthinkable happens. You trip. Your heel catches the loose fabric of your dress and rips your feet out from under you, a riptide of events that should have been foreseen. Your eyes slam shut the minute you go into freefall, not wanting to see the mess your body will create when you hit the marble. The fall feels like hours rather than seconds, waiting for an impact that will shatter life as you know it but the end never comes.

“Baby,” it takes you a moment to register the arms around your waist and the pine tree scent enveloping you, “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Another pair of hands grip on to your arm, sending waves of familiar warmth and nutmeg rushing through your chest, “my clumsy darling, what was our dear sister thinking when she put you in those heels.”

“She clearly wasn’t or else she would have remembered that she tripped three times just this morning,” you’re pulled easily into a new pair of strong arms, “isn’t that right, love?”

You can’t help but let the smile fall on your lips, your eyes tugging open to meet the ocean ones already looking at you, “you know me too well, Klaus.”

The smile is already on his lips, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “of course love, that’s my job.”

He leans down to place a quick kiss on your forehead before steadying you. You turn to face the remaining brothers, both of whom look ready to pull you once more into their arms. They’re circled around you, blocking the crowd from seeing you until they have had their moment with you. It warms your heart immensely. Up close they look even more ravishing. When you take your time inspecting them, though, you see the circles under their eyes.

Elijah’s are the most prominent, his skin tinged a plum colour that in no way mars the beauty of his face. If anything it adds an ethereal glow. He’s always been the one to worry the most. He is the oldest after all, most of the stress falls on his shoulders. His deliciously sculpted shoulders. It’s his job to hold his family together, tonight is no exception. You waste no time pulling him towards you and wrapping your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his chocolate hair.

“You look like you need a nap, Eli,” you tug softly at the strands between your fingers, “it’ll all be okay.”

You can feel the deep breath he takes, as if the air is going into your lungs instead of his, “I know, baby.”

He squeezes his arms around you a little tighter than usual before releasing you. It takes Kol no time to scoop you into his arms, burying his face in your neck. You grip his back with shaking fingers, admiring the muscles through his jacket as a moment of peace before the storm to come. You don’t want to let him go. You don’t want to leave the little bubble the four of you have created.

“No matter what happens out there tonight, I'm yours darling. Until the sun doesn’t rise in the east, I’m yours,” he places a soft kiss to your throat and tears sting at your eyes but you refuse to let them fall.

He pulls back, a small smile on his lips. You look up to the other two one last time, feeling the crowd grow impatient at your hidden actions. You know that tonight isn't about you but you can’t help but let the seconds tick by freely. This could very well be the last moment the four of you share publicly.

Klaus nods his head carefully, squeezing one of his hands into a fist at his side, “until the sun doesn’t set in the west, I am yours, love.”

You pull your lip between your teeth to bite back the trembling, steeling yourself as you turn in finality to Elijah. His chocolate eyes are already on you. The determination in them lights something hot and not at all unfamiliar in the pit of your stomach. He takes another deep breath, your eyes drawn to the rise and fall of his chest.

“And every moment after I will be yours, baby, that is my promise.”

When the words leave his lips you revel in the fleeting moment of calm that rushes over you.

The strength in your voice startles you a little bit, “I am yours before, during, and after. That is my promise. Let’s do this.”

The boys stand taller when you say the words, completing a promise you made to each other over a year ago. They part, allowing you to walk into the crowd of statues. No one moves, every eye glued to you once more. You can’t help but feel small under their gaze but you don’t back down, choosing instead to smile and stare back.

“Sweetheart, there you are!”

And just like that all the activity in the room restarts, all the chatter and music and tinkling restored like a fire under the floor. Your mother, Mary-Anne, appears from the crowd in a stunning blue gown. It accentuates her delicate features. She was a southern belle in her youth and it still shows, especially in her accent. You could get lost in the honey that is your mother’s voice.

“Hello, mama,” you fall into her embrace easily, breathing in her lilac lotion, “I’m sorry I took so long, Bekah wanted everything to be perfect.”

Your mother giggles, music to your aching soul, “except the shoes I see.”

You pull away with a blush, meeting her cheerful eyes with mild embarrassment, “oh my, you saw that?”

“Darling, all of Virginia saw it,” she takes your arm, leading you towards the ballroom where guests are steadily flowing to designated tables, “you gave those boys quite a startle. Your father too. He dropped his drink.”

She giggles again as she directs you to a table at the front of the room, elegantly decorated with an array of flowers and candles. There are enough seats to allow for both of your families and a few other important people to enjoy a nice meal. Your stomach tumbles in a way that makes you doubt the amount of food you will be enjoying tonight.

Your mother hands you a glass of champagne which you take gratefully, “will he be here soon?”

“I’m sure he will be,” she smiles gently at you, pushing a fallen curl behind your ear, “how are you feeling, darling? You look a little rattled.”

“It’s a lot to take in, mama. I’m alright,” you take a sip of your champagne to punctuate your words, letting the sweet bubbles cool your throat.

She places her hand on your own, pulling your attention back to her, “you’re allowed to not be. You’re doing a lot for this family, you know. Your father and I appreciate you very much. It can’t be easy.”

“The hard part isn’t getting married,” you meet her kind eyes and almost crumble, “It’s almost too easy to spend a lifetime with any one of them. They each mean the world to me. Mama, how am I supposed to choose?”

She shakes her head gently, her own curls bouncing lightly, “you just have to trust yourself, darling.”

The ballroom fills steadily, flowing conversation and music through the open space. You quickly spot the Mikaelson's, Bekah now in tow, as well as your father, who looks locked in a serious conversation with Elijah and Klaus. He’s nodding along to whatever they’re saying, clearly absorbing whatever notion they’re pushing. Kol, on the other hand however, remains silent, gazing around the space before locking eyes with you. Even from across the floor you can see his shoulders loosen slightly. Bekah tries to say something to him but he just brushes her off before moving towards you. You feel a touch guilty but you'll apologize later. Right now you need him.

You pass your glass back to your mother, accepting another knowing smile before all but running towards Kol. He clears the space quicker than you can, meeting you just in front of the table.

“You know, I don’t recall having told you how breathtaking you look yet this evening,” his words pour over you as he takes the final steps towards you, “and that should be a punishable crime. You look absolutely stunning, darling.”

He laces his arms once more around your waist, drawing you into his chest, “we’re all a little flustered tonight, I think I can pardon you just this once. Besides, I haven’t told you how marvellous you look yet either.”

You whisper the words into his chest, closing your eyes for a brief moment. His touch brings you some clarity. You wish you were curled up watching a movie instead of in a ball gown.

He pulls back slightly, lifting your chin to meet his warm eyes, “I meant what I said earlier, no matter who you choose I’m not going anywhere. None of us are.”

“I don’t think I can do it, Kol,” you look towards your father sitting next to your mother, both laughing with another couple, “I can’t hurt any of you.”

“Love,” you're pulled from Kol’s grasp and into a different but no less familiar hold, “we know this isn’t what you want. It’s not what any of us want. You need to trust us. Follow your instincts. Now come on, we’ll miss dinner.”

Klaus leads you to the table and a plate filled with what would normally be your favourite foods. Elijah is already waiting with your chair pulled out, sitting you between your mother and father.

He leans down before you can sit, his lips grazing your ear as he speaks, “just relax, baby. I love you.”

He presses a kiss to your ear before tucking you in and taking his own seat across from you. The ballroom soon fills with the sharp sounds of forks and knives scraping against porcelain and even more happy chatter than before. Your own table becomes a flurry of excited words and talk of the upcoming elections and wedding ideas. You’re bombed with many sneaky attempts to hear your decision early but you brush every one of them off, nervously taking bites of food every few minutes.

“So, honey,” your father turns to you with a grin, lowering his voice and drawing you into your own little bubble, “how’s my star doing?”

You focus on his nose, not wanting to meet his eyes quite yet, “I’m great, dad. This dinner is wonderful.”

He chuckles quietly and you can feel his gaze trying to pull your focus to him, “you would know, right, with all the food you've eaten?’

He isn’t wrong, you’ve barely cleared half your plate, “I’m not hungry is all.”

“You? Not hungry? Now I know something is really wrong here,” his hand grasps yours lightly, “look at me, what’s going on in that noggin of yours?”

You don’t mean to sigh but it happens anyway, “It’s just a lot to digest. It’s a really big decision.”

“You’re right it is, honey,” he squeezes your hand gently, “but I know you’ve got what it takes. You can’t disappoint me. Never have and you never will.” He looks in front of you, “besides, I think those boys know what they're doing. I trust them to help you figure this out.”

Like your mother, he always seems to know what to say. You have a strong family, one that holds each other up in the hardest of choices. You look across the table to meet the eyes of three men already looking at you. They each smile at you in their own way. Elijah’s is with his eyes, the rest of his face remaining stone. Klaus smirks at you, the blue of his eyes sparkling mischievously. Kol tilts his head to the side, a soft grin on his lips.

Soon the music becomes louder and guests start pouring onto the dance floor, swaying to an elegant piece made up of violins and flutes. Your own table clears with the rest, leaving the four of you alone. Elijah, as per usual, is the first one out of his seat.

“Would you do me the immense honour of sharing this dance?”

The formality in his words brings you a bubbling sense of warmth and you, of course, rise to meet his outstretched hand. He leads you to the middle of the floor, twirling you under another chandelier before pulling you tight against his chest. You’re once again wrapped in his forest scent and you lay your head against him, trusting him to keep you from falling. The music swirls around you, drowning out the noise of the others around you. They're no doubt speculating that you’ve made your decision but, in reality, this is just yours and Elijah’s thing: dancing.

He moves you beautifully across the floor, pulling you slightly to where it feels like you’re gliding on ice. The rest of the couples move back, allowing for the two of you to take as much space as you need. You feel like you dance for an eternity, giggling as he spins you endlessly across the polished wood floor. He eventually lifts you, turning you in what you assume is a final twirl, only to pass you into another pair of ocean breeze arms.

Klaus takes over effortlessly, falling into the same pattern that Elijah had created, “sorry to cut in, love, I couldn’t help myself.”

You move the hand that lays on his shoulder and wrap it around the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair and drawing as close to him as you can. He takes his time dancing with you the same as his brother had. By now all the other dancers have stopped and cleared completely off the floor. Each eye is trained on the pair of you like lasers to a target. You will yourself to remain completely focused on Klaus’ movements.

It takes both an eternity and mere seconds for you to land in Kol’s arms, who twirls you one last time, perfectly stopping with the music. When the last violin dies out, a clock chimes through the room. Your shoulders tense on their own, the rest of your body following suit. Ten O’clock. Choosing time.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome,” your father’s voice pours through speakers placed around the hall but you can barely register the words being said, “I know many of you have travelled great lengths to be here today and for that our families are incredibly grateful. Tonight is a momentous occasion. It marks the engagement of my girl, Y/n, to one of these fine men.”

Your father motions across the room to where you stand, now with all three brothers stood in front of you, “each one of them have expressed their interest in my daughter and now, with all of you to witness such a grand step in her life, she will choose which of them she would like to marry.”

Whatever head that wasn't already turned now faces you, each holding their breath in anticipation. You aren't looking at them though. Instead, you’re facing the three men that you would do anything in the world for. You can almost see your aching heart already in your hands, ready to rip it into three even pieces and hand it to them with little bows.

You look at Klaus first. Your creative spirit who could fill an entire museum with paintings of your face alone. His hands twitch slightly at his sides and he closes them into fists when you notice. He offers you a small smile and you remember the other night when he fell asleep on your lap while watching a movie in the den. He hasn't been sleeping properly with all the arrangements for tonight being settled and you running your hands through his hair had been the final push he needed to collapse. You make sure he’s looking at your lips when you mouth I love you across the room.

You turn quickly to Elijah from there, locking eyes with him immediately. Your warrior who looks especially undone in comparison to his usual put together self. He looks like he has to stop himself from closing the distance between the two of you and that it’s taking most of his remaining energy to do so. That’s Eli for you though, he never can stay away from you for too long. When you mouth I love you to him he stands a little straighter.

You find Kol’s eyes easily from there. Your rebellious, hell-raiser with a glint in his face that you would be able to see from all the way across the room. His hand is in his hair, tugging the strands between his fingers in a way that only he could make look elegant. He’s got a look in his eyes that begs you to do something entirely untraditional. He mouths I love you before you can even open your mouth.

You stand there for an eternity, your feet stuck as though rooted through the floor. Every moment from the past two years rushes through your head. You aren't dying; this isn't a life flashing before your eyes type moment but it may as well be. These three have been your entire life since you were introduced. Not one of them alone could have brought you here. Every moment for two years has been leading to you standing here, with them, at this very second.

It hits you quite suddenly that if you were to remove two of them, the equation that makes up who you are wouldn't be correct anymore. You’ve been juggling with the idea that your soul is four parts rather than two for quite some time now. It wouldn't be right to give three parts to one person, not when each of them have taken the time to so delicately etch their names onto their own separate parts.

You can’t pick just one of them. You’ve known that from the beginning, you just didn’t know what you were going to do about it until now. Your hands tremble now that you know your decision, a chill running up your spine at the thought of sharing it with the crowd. It’s not exactly conventional what you’re about to say.

“I choose Klaus.”

The crowd releases the breath it had been holding for hours. Too bad they're going to be sucking it back in soon. Klaus’ eyes are wide, his mouth open as though he didn't expect to be your choice. Your heart breaks for him and you remind yourself to spend more time with him when this is all over. Your other two boys look devastated, the smiles on their lips looking more like pained grimaces. Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“And I choose Elijah.”

Just like that there is once again no air left in the room. You begin walking towards them, ignoring the buzz of whispers growing in the room. You peer over their shoulders at you parents who don’t look nearly as stunned as they should. In fact your mother is beaming at you. You can feel the pride radiating off her from thirty feet away. You can’t tell if your father mouths I told you so or if you imagine it.

The boys begin moving towards you as well, ready to cover you from the storm raging around you. You can tell there are a thousand things they want to say but you’re not done speaking yet.

You look to the last Mikaelson, willing a smile to take over the frown on his gorgeous face, “and, of course, I choose Kol.”

The crowd roars around you but you’re surrounded with a wall of Mikaelson, blocking you from the prying eyes. You look at each of them, trying to gauge their reactions. You know they said that they're yours but you never discussed marrying all of them. You don’t even know if you can do that. It’s now entirely overwhelming in a completely new way. All three of them stare at you with a mix of shock and awe. Like this is the first time they’re seeing you. You wring your hands together waiting for one of them to say something.

None of them do, though. Instead Elijah closes the space between your bodies and crashes his lips onto yours, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and biting down hard. His hands grasp your waist with strong fingers, leveling you against his tall frame. It sends shocks through your entire system and you revel in the outright display he’s putting on. He’s the last one you would have expected to lose it in a crowd.

Kol is the next one to close in on you, wrapping his arms around you as well and gently kissing your shoulder. The fire Elijah started in your stomach only increases when Kol bites down. You gasp into Elijah’s mouth but it’s quickly swallowed by the man himself. Kol’s lips feel heavenly against your exposed skin.

Klaus finally steps towards you, tangling his arms in the mess of your bodies and completing your circle. His lips meet the side of your throat in a way only he can, biting down deliciously. When Elijah finally pulls away from you, the rest of them follow. You know your skin is most definitely bruised and your lips swollen. Your curls have most definitely fallen from their pins. You would be worried but each of them still hold you, caged around your body for no one but themselves to see.

The rush of the evening hits you all at once, a strong fatigue laying across your bones. You let your eyes close as you lean further into Elijah. Sensing the finality of your movements, he scoops you up, careful to keep your dress in it’s beautiful condition. He starts walking out of the room, ignoring the protests around him. On cue Kol and Klaus join him on either side.

“Eli, we can’t leave, they’re expecting us,” you can’t hide the yawn in your voice.

“We can, and we are leaving, baby,” he tightens his arms around you, “you need to sleep.”

You shake your head unconvincingly, “I’m fine, Eli.”

The other Mikaelson brothers just laugh.

The smile in Kol’s voice is audible, “yes you are, darling, but humor us won’t you?”

“They’ll be mad at me,” your voice trails off at the end, blackness creeping in around the edges of your mind despite your protests.

“You’ve done more than enough, love, we can take it from here.”

Klaus’ voice is the last you hear, not even making it back up the stairs before you drift out of consciousness.

[twdbegins]

A Friendly Feud

__

Simon x Fem. Reader

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1,759

“Is that really what you want?”

__

He infuriated you. He knew exactly how to push your buttons, and push your buttons he certainly did. It was almost like he went out of his way to mess with you. As if he had nothing else on his schedule except pestering you. He was extremely persistent, you’d give him that. 

It seemed like you saw him more than anybody else at the Sanctuary. You didn’t even see Negan as much as you saw Simon. Maybe it was because the Sanctuary wasn’t THAT big or because Simon often sought you out. Either way, you had your fair share of encounters with him.

You fought all the time. Like, literally all the time. If you were in a room together, everyone would be sure to get a good view. Odd were, the two of you would start going at it at some point or another. The anger was always one sided. Simon never lost his patience with you, because he knew he was almost always the instigator of your fights. His amusement just made you angrier, and he fed off of it. 

It had gotten so bad that Negan refused to allow the two of you to do anything together if there wasn’t a third party involved. That didn’t stop Simon from going out of his way to hassle you.

You grimaced at the sound of whistling and heavy footsteps coming from down the hall. Oh, great. The man of the hour. You prepared yourself for his usual shenanigans, offering a very brief glance when he poked his head into the supply closet you were currently in.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.” He grinned proudly.

Did he really have to call you that? How aggravating.

“Hey, Simon.” You returned a rather unenthusiastic greeting.

His eyes were fixed on you as your attention remained on counting the unloaded boxes in front of you. Negan had put you on inventory duty for the day, meaning you’d be bopping around the Sanctuary’s supply closets counting resources from the run from the previous day. You could feel his gaze on you, the wheels in his head were evidently turning. He was probably figuring out a new way to get on your nerves.

“Do you need something?” You asked, tone full of irritation.

You still weren’t looking at him, trying to keep your cool. A smile was still smacked on his face, his expression not changing.

“Is it such a crime just to pop in and say hi to my favorite savior?” He asked, pretending to be offended.

You scoffed at that. His “favorite savior? Oh, please. What a charmer he thought he was.

“It is when I’m clearly busy.” You said, referring to the mounds of stuff you had yet to count.

“I’d hardly call counting boxes as busy.” He countered back.

You sighed heavily in annoyance. He just wanted attention. Your attention. That’s all he ever wanted was for you to acknowledge him whenever he was in your presence. Even if it could be rather annoying, you were the tiniest bit flattered. No one had ever gone after your validation as much as he did. You didn’t want him to feel like he had something to prove to you, because he didn’t. No one did. You just wished he’d pick a more pleasant approach.

“Well, I just do as I’m told and this is what I was told to do,” You smarted off, finally turning to look at him; “Do you have a problem with that?”

He took a step into the small closet. His smirk was gone, but his tone was just as playful as ever.

“Woah, darlin’. Why the bad attitude?” He asked, obviously knowing he was bugging you.

You tossed your head back in exasperation. It was evident that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. You turned completely to face him, not realizing that he had been standing right behind you. You abruptly collided into him, your chest firm against him. You looked up into his eyes, your face growing hot. Had he always been that handsome? Your hard pause and stare told him everything he needed to know. You had a thing for him.

He knew it was mutual.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, but made no effort to back away from him. You meant for your words to come out as demanding, but instead they escaped as a desperate whisper.

“If you want to stick around, then make yourself useful and start counting.” 

He beamed at the invitation. You hadn’t actually ever offered your time to him. This was a step in the right direction in his eyes. Taking a leap of faith, his hands rested on your sides and gripped to keep you close.

“You sure that’s all you wanna do?” He asked lowly.

Before you knew it, and before you could say anything else, he kissed you. It wasn’t a gentle, experimental kiss. It was a deep, calculated, and passionate kiss that you could tell had been long awaited. The man that you thought you hated so much had you weak in the knees and barely processing any of the thoughts crossing your mind. Had you really been misinterpreting your feelings all along?

You pulled away first, heart suddenly caught in your throat as you felt yourself begin to panic. You unattached yourself from him and made a rash decision to get out before you had time to do anything else.

“I, uh...I’ve got to go.” You said at a more normal volume. 

You dashed out of the closet and back to the other side of the Sanctuary. You left him behind, feeling disappointed that his pledge for how he felt about you didn't go as he had hoped. For the first time, he felt afraid that maybe he had scared you off.

That was the last thing he wanted to do.

__

The days following the fateful make out session in the supply closet were tense and weird. You refused to look at him when you passed him in the hall and he didn’t speak to you for fear of freaking you out. Everyone around seemed to notice too. Suddenly, Simon wasn’t trying to get you riled up and you weren’t yelling at him to give it a rest. Your interactions were now stoic and silent. You were beginning to prefer the way it was before. At least then he was actually talking to you.

Oddly enough, the person who felt they were most affected was Negan. Negan despised silence, unless it meant everyone was listening to him. Even he would admit that the arguments the two of you had often gave him a headache, but he realized that he would rather down a couple aspirin after every meeting than have to stew in the tension that radiated off of the both of you now.

It took about an hour or so, but Negan was able to squeeze it out of Simon as to what exactly went down to where things had changed so drastically. Negan was pleased that Simon had gotten his act together and made a move, but he needed this to be resolved now. Because he just couldn’t take it anymore.

So that’s how you and Simon ended up in a room together. Alone. To most people, this was a disaster waiting to happen. Either he’d sweep you off your feet or you’d finally kill him. 

You sat at the table and he leaned against the wall, neither of you were brave enough to speak first. The silence was painfully loud, it was like a ringing in your ears. It was just a matter of who would crack under pressure first. It sure wasn’t going to be you. So he caved.

“Listen, [Y/N], about the other day...” He spoke gravelly; “I didn’t mean to cross any lines or freak you out.”

Your cheeks burned, your glance was committed to one area of the table. You weren’t looking at him yet. 

“I just don’t think we could go back to the way we were after that.” You admitted.

Simon shrugged, beginning to warm up to this conversation that needed to be had.

“Is that really what you want?” He questioned. 

“Yes.” You lied, but thought you were being truthful.

He felt gutted. Ouch. That was a blow to the chest. He could tell that you weren’t confident in your answer, though. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he was sure that you knew what you wanted. He took the seat next to you.

“So you’re telling me that the way you looked at me that day meant nothing? The way you kissed back just as much as I did wasn’t important?” He interrogated.

He had worked hard to build a connection before he made a move on you. He wanted to be absolutely sure that you didn’t want this. It would hurt him if you didn’t, but at least he would know it was honest. 

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I'm saying.” You said in an overly defensive growl.

You still hadn't looked at him, and he wasn’t convinced. There was something you weren’t saying.

“Look at me then. Look at me and tell me you don't want this,” He said more sternly than you’d ever heard him; “If you don't want me then say the word. I’ll walk away and never bring it up again.”

You looked at him immediately, ready to deny him once more, but couldn’t. The words didn’t come. Why was it so hard to say no to this? He bothered you something awful. He annoyed you and he drove you absolutely crazy to a point of madness. And you loved it. 

“I can’t say it,” You spoke gently; “I can’t say it, because...I know it wouldn’t be true.” 

And there it was. The real confession. He knew you hadn't admitted it to yourself. It was strange how we deny things to ourselves.

“It’s pretty obvious that we have something going. I’m crazy about you and I don’t want us to miss this chance,” He continued; “We don't have to jump right into it. I mean we could-”

In a shocking turn of events, you kissed him. Just as you had kissed a few short days ago. He smirked underneath your lips. Hook, line, and sinker. Turns out his inkling was right. And boy did he love it when he was right.

“I think we can jump right into it. We’re past the introduction stage.” You grinned.

He smiled back, throwing a wink before kissing you again.

“No complaints here.”

[my-own-oracle]

Loving you- requested!

EDIT: this has been re-uploaded since my account was deleted! I am sorry for the inconvenience. 

Tfp bots with number 42-"I have never loved you as much as I do right now."

@a-bitchtm I love your enthusiasm, usually have a limit on the number of bots I have per request. But because I made you wait so long and I had a lot of fun with it, I did four of them. If you want to see any more, let me know. 

Ratchet

Ratchet was usually quite hard to approach: his no-nonsense demeanor often left interactions with the bot feeling flat, and with much to be desired. But he had been appointed your guardian, and a stubborn mech like the doc required a stubborn companion. 

You often spent your days at the base, watching the giant doctor work. But the evenings we're where the battles of stubbornness were indeed waged.

 You had been studying a map of your home city, it was only a state over and the proposed location of another artifact. You had been looking for a site that could hide, or be built around a 'mystical' cybertronian object. You had accepted this task, earlier this afternoon, but you still felt like you nad nothing. 

Ratchet was standing not far off. Mumbling to himself as he worked through the lines of gibberish, you recognized as cybertronian. You had tried to convince him to take a break and recharge a few hours ago, but he insisted he was fine. 

He wasn't. You could tell he was tired. His frame sagged, and his mumbling and squinting of his optics gave it away. A yawn caught you off guard as you checked your watch. 2:39 am. You had decided to keep him company. After all, you had work to do too, but your body was beginning to protest. Another yawn, you turned back to the maps laid out in front of you. 

"You need to go and sleep." Ratchet's voice filled the empty air, but his attention was still on the large screens. 

"So do you," you watched his helm shake slightly.

"No, I have to much to do."

"And taking care of yourself is also on that list." Ratchet turned to face you, and his optics looked dim. "Your tired, your frame is sagging," you raised a finger with each point, "your eye -ah optics, are dim and your starting to sway"'  

"You're infuriating. You are no better. You've yawned 36 times in the past two hours. Almost cycled off in to recharge 5 times in the past thirty, and if you want to call my optics dim, I would say yours have been snuffed out." His voice was firm, but it lacked its usual snark. 

"Since when do you keep such close track of me?" You stood up, waving your hand at his monitor. "You're always talking about how much more important your work is, but you're willing to use brainpower to keep track of the number of times I've started falling asleep?"

"It's my job to make sure all members of this team are in top form."

"All members?"

"Yes, "

"Then that includes yourself" He stammered a moment. Another sign to add to your ever-growing list. 

"Since when did you start fretting over an old mech?" A giant hand placed itself next to you, a silent offer. You climbed up, opting to sit in his open hand rather than trust your legs to hold you steady.

"Since the day I met you, Ratchet." He mumbled a response. You didn't quite hear it. 

"One more time, "

"I have never loved you as much as I do right now." You smiled, and so did Ratchet. You loved his smile, he should do it more. 

"Then love me enough to go to sleep; if you go to bed, I will too." Ratchet grumbled and smiled. With a few taps to his computer, he turned off the monitors and headed off to his hab-unit with you in hand to get some rest. 

Bulkhead

Today had played out so differently in your head. The dream had been waking up to no excitement. There is no need to storm an energon mine, no world-shattering event to stop. Thanks to a school-wide trip, no teenagers making errors could cause huge problems. At the end of this uneventful day, you would have all the time in the world to go out and watch the meteor shower that was occurring at 2am. Instead, you had been sent out on a mission with Bulkhead only to discover at its end, that the ground bridge wasn't working. 

"Why did we allow her to come again?" You turned and watched Miko as she played a game on her phone in the back. She was sprawled out in the back tired out from the rock show she performed for you on the drive up and the hiking around during recon. 

"Because her school trip got canceled, and I have a hard time saying no," Bulkhead's voice quietly filtered through the cab. You chuckled, Miko seemed lost in her own world at the moment, so you decided to give her space.

"You are wrapped around her finger" You all round a bend before you talk again. "How far are we from the base?"

"A good day's drive. Maybe more if we want to avoid major cities." You feel like sulking, you were definitely missing that meteor shower. "What's wrong, did you have a hot date tonight?" 

The eye roll was a gut reaction, as was your smile. "You know I don't have time for that; besides, you're starting to sound like Wheeljack." 

"Seriously then." you sighed, shifting to slouch lower in your seat. 

"There's this meteor shower tonight." You didn't know how much of this Bulkhead cared about, but he had been the one to ask…" I was going to spend time researching the best possible location to watch it from and see if I could bribe Ratchet to bridging me there and back."

"But now you get to hang with us." Miko injected, while Bulkhead realized the source of your frustration.

"You'd rather be watching it, hm?"

"Don't take it as I don't want to spend time with the two of you," you gesture to the cab, "It's just since I was little I've always wanted to watch the 'falling stars' my mom talked about seeing once." 

"It sounds nice," You leaned deeper into Bulkhead's seats.

"More like boring, but hey, to each their own." Miko flopped forward over the center console. "Hey, let's play a game while we drive." You smiled as Miko tried to describe her road trip game to Bulkhead. You spent a moment pushing the meteors out of your head; after all, it was not every day you got to spend quality time with these two. 

     * 

"(Y/N). Can you wake up?" The question was light. Bulkheads voice breaking the silence during another of Miko's and your naps. The sun had set at some point, casting the day into a soft and comforting darkness, illuminated by the milky way's thousands of stars. "(Y/N), wake up." Your head jerked awake at Bulkheads prodding. When had you fallen asleep? You had wanted to keep the giant bot company through the night since he was determined to drive as long as possible. 

"Is everything ok?" you started looking around. Outside looked peaceful, and inside was quiet except for the snores emitting from the teenager behind you. "Has Miko been asleep the whole ride?" You looked back in disbelief. It looked as though she had moved, but you had no evidence that she had woken up. 

Bulkhead chuckled, "You're delusional if you really think Miko would sleep for the majority of a day." You swatted at the headrest of the seat next to you. "Ok, ok. She was awake for a while after you fell asleep. I tried to keep her quiet." 

You were touched at the effort that must have taken. Miko was loud and brash, keeping her occupied and quite must have been a handful to do while trying to drive them home. "Thank you, Bulk." you shifted to lean against his door. "How far out are we?"

The sound of tires on the paved road filled your ears, and you watched as the wheel moved to keep them steady. "Not too far, but I'm taking a slight detour." He sounded guilty, 

"What was going on?" Slowly, being careful not to jostle the cab, Bulkhead pulled over to the side of the road. You felt the locking mechanism move under your back. "Step out, will you?" You eyed the dash, curious as to what on earth Bulkhead could want this late at night. 

"Bulk what's-" a man materialized in the seat next to you. He was a big broad-chested man with dark skin and an Autobot tattoo on his right shoulder. His black wifebeater and green cargo pants screamed military and soldier in your mind. His body had materialized with his hands on the steering wheel, his arms relaxed, and his eyes gently closed. He was still for only a moment, and in that moment, your heart sped up. From what you couldn't tell, but it was hammering. 

His eyes opened to reveal an unusual blue color, one more resembling the color of the bot's optics than any blue you had seen in a human. The man wasted no time opening up the driver's side door and stepping out. Hesitantly you followed. "What-"

"What do you think?" The man kept his head upwards towards the sky, his voice was Bulkhead's voice, but softer... almost. "The lights from all the major cities are far enough away you should be able to see this meteor shower you wanted to see."

"Who-" 

"Then again," Not-Bulkhead surveyed the flat landscape. "Miko had said you probably wanted to watch from an elevated area." He hurried past you back to Bulkhead's parked form and began climbing the back to reach the roof. Watching this man climb up, your close friend snapped you out of your shock.

"Just you wait one moment-" you grabbed the back of his shirt. "What's going on here?" you tried to pull the man down "Bulkhead-"

"Come on (Y/N)," He reached down gently, swatting your hands from his shirt and finishing his brief climb to Bulkhead's roof. Turning to offer you a hand up. "You didn't want to miss this, right?" the way he said your name, the gentle giant way he was caring about you, this was Bulkhead. This was Bulkhead trying to show you the falling stars you had always wanted to see. 

"How do you know we'll be able to see them?" You took his hand and let him haul you up into his arms. Letting him guide you into sitting in his lap. 

"I had Miko call Raph, and he looked up on his computer where we needed to be." His voice rumbled from his chest into your back. You knew you had to be smiling like a crazy person. "Look," one of his hands, previously holding him in place as he leaned back, was thrust forward-pointing up to the sky. You caught the tail end of it. The fading streak across the sky. It was followed by another, then another, soon enough, the sky was full of streaking silver light, and your heart was swelling. You laid back, eyes never leaving the atmosphere above you.

"Bulkhead, I've never loved you as much as I do right now." His arms moved to wrap themselves around your waist. Together, you stayed there, watching the sky until the last one had sailed by, before moving back into the cab and starting off to finish the rest of the road trip home. 

Bumblebee

Bumblebee loved Fridays. It was the best day of the week, especially since you had moved to the base. Every Friday morning, without fail, you would wake up at 7am and head out to the roof of the base. There you would lay out a massive tarp and roll out an industrial-sized shop vacuum you had bought off eBay. And it always leads to this. 

7:30am  

Bumblebee sat in the morning sun, his doors open to the world. You sat in an old pair of jeans, your knees on the metal roof vacuuming out his interior. To Bee, this was the most relaxing feeling in the world. You meticulously vacuumed his seats, driver's side, the back then, passenger side, afterword focusing on the floor mats. That's what you were currently on. Woking the vacuums brush against his transformation seams. Dragging out a week's worth of sand, dirt, and grit. 

He always told you it was unnecessary to clean him this thoroughly, but you insisted. 

"Bumblebee, you drive Raph and me everywhere. We, all though unwillingly, fill you with all the nasty and dirty particles of everything we walk through in a day. The least I can do is clean you out." 

After nearly two months, the strange feeling of the vacuum had become comforting. The feel of the brush, relaxing. The young scout would never admit this to anyone, but he especially enjoyed what came after. 

The vacuum shut off, the silence overtaking the air. You stood up, pulling a small white rag from your belt. You dipped it into a bucket of warm water, wringing it out before slipping off your shoes and crawling into his cab. 

The rag ran down his dash, cleaning up the oil and dirt that came off human fingers. Your hand pressed delicately against his leather interior, studying yourself as you worked.

"Everything alright?" you were scrubbing a little more forcefully on his steering wheel.

"Yes, There's just something a little sticky, I bet it's from a soda." you sighed, shifting to sit in the seat. "I can't believe you let me and Raph eat in here yesterday." You took the dry end of the rag, tracing back over every spot you cleaned with the damp side. 

"I knew you would be careful and take care of me later." You climbed out, chuckling at his comment like it was a joke. Throwing the now 'dirty' rag off to the side in favor of a new one, dipping it in the same warm water you had before. 

He shut his doors, he could feel you as you sat down next to him. Your presents brushing against his EM field; his door sensors, the ones that made up his 'wings' as you called them, lighting up at the gentle touch you had as you worked off scuffs and paint from other bots and cars alike. 

The strokes began to blend together as his processor slowed down; he wanted to stay in this moment forever. The chilly desert morning and his (Y/N) cleaning off the grime from the week. 

"I have never loved you as much as I do right now." He knew it was a strange thing to say, and an even more unusual way to thank you for all the work you were doing. But it didn't make the statement any less real. 

"I love you too." Bumblebee could hear the smile in your voice. Yes, if he had to pick any one moment to live in forever, this one was most definitely number one. 

Wheeljack

"I can't do this anymore." Wheeljack looked over, the thick book on your lap slamming shut registering in his audials. "This assignment doesn't make sense, this professor is a moron, and my school is a joke." Your hands were gripping the hair on your head. Wheeljack was no expert on humans, but he felt that that wasn't a good thing. "I'm done, I can't do this." he laughed to himself as you began shoving everything into the bag you took with you everywhere. "I can't do this, I can't. I'm done. I'm done." Your human optics are leaking a little. He watched as your face turned red, and your head shook back and forth.

He recalls Bulkhead explaining that leaking optics are a terrible thing for humans, It means there's something wrong. A soft whisper is let out amongst the noise, a whisper he wouldn't have heard if he wasn't so in tune with you.

"I'm a failure,"

Wheeljack was on his pedes faster than he had ever thought possible. You were hunched over that stupid bag, shoulders shaking. He had to get you back. He didn't know what exactly got you this upset, but he knew it had something to do with that university you kept complaining about this week. 

"Alright speedster, enough of that." As gently as a wrecker could, he picked you up. Dropping you from one hand to another. "No wrecker gets to sulk while I'm around, Stop your crying and brace yourself." The bot looked over to Bulkhead and the other humans as he walked to the center of the base. "Tell Prime: I'm going out."

Wheeljack gave you a soft toss upward, you yelped as gravity pulled you back into his open servo. "Ready?" You tilted your head, something he found cute but swore never to admit out loud. 

"What-what are you-you doing?" you stuttered between your tears.

"Fixing that look on your face." Wheeljack nodded to Bulkhead, who opened the base doors. Your bot tossed you up again this time a little higher, lurching forward he transformed around you, landing with you in his front seat. Before you could blink a seat belt was strapped around your torso. The two of you flying out into the desert. You watched as his speedometer climbed, 30 to 40. 50 to 70. 80 to 100. You were no longer on the road; instead, Wheeljack had turned out into the desert. The world was a blur out of his windows. He dared to look inward for a brief moment to check on you before returning his optics to his driving. Your soft hands were holding onto the seat and door. But the tears had stopped flowing, and a small smile was spread on your face. 

The wrecker pushed himself to go faster, he needed his speedster back, the one that laughed as he drove at unhuman like speeds that begged him to try and go even faster then he could go safely with you.  

150.

He was, for your sake, slowly climbing in his speed. Your grip loosened on his door, and he tightened the belt across your torso. 

170

Your body was shaking again, but not from tears, this was a familiar shake. This was you teetering on laughter. This was a shake Wheeljack loved to feel against his seats. 

190

"Wheeljack!" you were laughing. "I know you can go faster!" 

200

"I promised Ratchet I would go over 200 with you, he says it's dangerous." You hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Since when do you listen to the Doc-Bot?" Both hands were on his seatbelt, "I'm safe with you, come on, Faster!"

"I need you to say something first," He slowed a little, enough so he could glance inward again. "Tell me why you, of all people, would think you're a failure." Your face fell, not good, but necessary.

"I don't understand the work, my teacher wouldn't answer my questions." Your head sank. "She said I shouldn't be asking too many questions."

"Well, Frag her. She doesn't know what she's doing. It's obvious she's just bad at her job." you smiled again, "Now, if that's the only problem, I think we ought to see how fast we can outrun it." 

He gave a little yank on the strap, making sure your body was flush against his seat. 

He'd never tell you, but Ratchet had really freaked him out about hurting you. 

"Floor it!" 

He complied.

*

It was late in the evening, you both were tired, and your adrenaline had worn out, and Wheeljack knew he had burned through more energon than he should have. 

"We should call for a bridge." The car around you rumbled for a moment.

"Yeah, I'll patch us through." The two of you sat in silence.

"Are you even calling them?"

"No." You reclined his seat back. And listened to his engine idle.

"Thank you for making me feel better." 

"No big."

"Seriously. I have never loved anyone as much as I love you right now. Thank you."

His spark practically jumped, but he was grateful you couldn't see his faceplates. It would be nice to spend some more time with you, so you two sat in the quiet desert. 

Happy and content. 

Don't forget to share your thoughts with me!

[crimsonthehobo]

Battle Scars - (1/?)

[A/N:] Haven’t been on this account in months, am quite sleep-deprived and I haven’t eaten breakfast yet. Well, lunch now apparently. So before I lose the minimal courage I got, I’ll just drop this off here and hope it works! Don’t know when I might write the next part, might even not. Who knows. Mind’s wonky. This has been in my files for a long while, wrote it back when Guy Sebastian’s song Battle Scars got stuck in my head. Figured I might as well let it stop collecting dust. Also, considering I’ve never done this before, I don’t know how to properly tag. 

If there’s tags I should put, ESPECIALLY if they’re tw tags, please do tell me. [Summary:] The child of a general, the only survivor of a (frankly) unethical experiment, and the old college roommate of one Alexandra Danvers. Somehow all three of those things correlate with one another, not that you can remember at this point. You just want to live in the forest, forgetting the reasons for the scars that litter your body. [Warning(s):] Reader’s thoughts get... dark. Somewhat. More depressing, I think. Some people horrifically mutate too, so there’s that. Again, if there should be warnings in the tags or here that I should put but didn’t, do tell me. What else... uh, this is approximately 11k words long? Maybe that deserves a warning all to itself. Is there a tag that explains “possibly turns you into a modern-day cave person living in forests to steal from humans and wrestle bears”? Possibly a spoiler, but hey, at least it means you read warnings, so congrats!

The first time you felt like you’d failed, was when you had to leave the first love of your life. It was the only scar that had no physical counterpart, but you’d felt the mind-numbing pain, nonetheless.

“You watch yourself, alright? I won’t be around to keep your head screwed on for you!”

“Yeah, yeah…”

You rolled your eyes, pointedly keeping your focus on shoving the remaining belongings you had into your duffle. You didn’t look at her. You couldn’t. You knew if you did, you’d break.

Silence fell over the room at your half-hearted response, the lack of noise almost making you regret not saying anything more in reply. And then…

“Do… Do you really have to go?”

‘Damn it.’

Alex’s words were shaky, barely louder than a whisper. The strained tinge in her voice urged you to look up from zipping up your bag, glancing over at the source.

Seated on your bed with her legs over the side, she sat hunched over as one of her legs anxiously shook up and down against the edge. Her hands were curled into fists between her knees, knuckles white as her forearms tensed from their placement on her thighs.

She looked so… small. Nervous. It wasn’t like her.

She was supposed to be Alex Danvers. A stubborn redhead that was tough-as-nails and was always up for drinking you under the table any day!

But you couldn’t blame her for not being herself. She was heartbroken, and so were you.

Though, it made you feel guilty that it was because of you that she looked so weak.

No, “weak” wasn’t the word.

Vulnerable…

Vulnerable seemed more fitting.

“I’m sorry.”

You looked away, but it didn’t last for long. You felt her tap your jaw; once, twice, then a third time. For you two, it was a universal sign that you needed to listen. That what would be said was important.

It was an action that would only take effect if done by the other, and no one else.

It could calm either of you from rage, or even help you fight the haze of drunkenness to be in some semblance of sober.

It was special. Meaningful.

Hence why your automatic reaction was to turn, to obey the silent request to face her.

“You’ll stay in touch, yeah?”

“…Yeah.”

Now you? You were weak. While the owner of your heart was devastated right in front of you, all you could offer for comfort was an unconvincing smile and a useless apology.

Her throat bobbed as she attempted to swallow back a sob, but the teary shine in her eyes gave her away.

Another surge of guilt struck your heart and made you avert your eyes elsewhere, anywhere, as long as they were not on her.

‘Look at what you’ve done.’

It was your fault. She didn’t even know why you were leaving so suddenly.

Your father had found out of your attraction to her, and needless to say, he didn’t take it lightly. A few strings pulled later, and you were being sent away to be “straightened out.” The thought almost made scoff during that particular conversation in his study, but you accepted the consequences anyway.

You should’ve been better.

You should’ve done better.

You didn’t protect her well enough.

The fault was none but yours… and the knife you felt in your heart would remind you for a long while to come.

~~~

 The second time you felt like you’d failed, happened two years after that moment in your college dorm room.

It took months for that scar to start to heal, but you knew it would take years before it would even begin to fade.

You’d tried to keep in contact, but you had your life to live and so did she. Not to mention the day your father heard of the two of you still communicating, he pulled more strings to cut you off. It was too late, anyway. You’d already stopped talking by then.

But whether the silence was for the better or worse was up for debate.

Just the thought of her made your heart lurch, and actually interacting with her never failed to re-open that scar anew. The space, however agonizing, let the wound heal.

Yet that very same space was what let you drown yourself into your current occupation. In order to compensate for the agony, you let yourself fall deeper and deeper into your work. Though at this point, you were questioning if you should even call it that.

Unknown to her, a month into your time in the military, a general offered you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

You found it hard to believe. You weren’t stupid, you could read between the lines. You knew “opportunity” also meant “ulterior motive.”

He didn’t prove you wrong.

When you walked into the conference room you’d been instructed to enter, your eyes immediately fell to the only individual inside.

General Lane.

You knew three things about him. One, he had been your father’s best friend. Two, he had a palpable dislike for any and all alien life. Specifically, Superman. Three, whenever he began to rant, just smile, and nod.

It was only the two of you there, yet you couldn’t seem to find it in you to focus. Not after he uttered the words “military program.”

You already knew this wouldn’t end well.

Though you remained silent, your eyes having glazed over as the static in your ears prevented his words from reaching your brain, he continued to speak. You only managed to catch bits and pieces, but you got the gist.

They wanted to conduct an experiment and were looking for lab rats. They wanted you to be one.

You weren’t surprised they asked. To everyone else’s knowledge, you had no one left in your life but you. Your father made sure any links between you and Alex were cleanly severed, meaning any history between you two had been cleared. You had no family other than your parents, your mother having passed while you were still in your single digits, while your father had done the same just a week before this very meeting.

‘Tch… no love lost there.’

But, considering he was a respected figure and a close friend of the very same general right in front of you, you had to at least act as if his death affected you. Your father had always been one for appearances, so no one outside of the two of you (and Alex) knew just how estranged you’d been from the other. Because of this, luckily (or unluckily, depending on what way you view it), people took your indifferent poker face to be one of grief.

General Lane wanted to capitalize on that. On you.

You had military blood in you (because apparently that meant you were exactly like your father), you had a “reason” to go missing (grief, hah), and—as far as he was concerned—you had no close relations that would worry should you ever disappear (you… couldn’t really think of a quip to internalize there). You seemed like the perfect guinea pig.

“…We need heroes around here. Human heroes. Not those monsters who could fall to their instincts at the drop of a hat, or at the touch of some space rock—”

Again, it came with no surprise to you that extra-terrestrials were the main focus of said experiment.

You wanted to say no. Fuck, did you want to say no. You wanted no part in this blind hatred. But then…

“—They’re never here when we actually need them. A group of freaks like him are planning to go after National City to lure him out, and where is Superman? Frolicking off in space! The President had an entire clandestine organization made exactly for roach-connected situations like this, yet they don’t even know—”

Your blood ran cold, your hearing suddenly becoming clear as your eyes bore into his.

National City.

Of all the places, they had to go there. You didn’t give it a second thought. You didn’t have to.

“I’ll do it.”

.

.

.

You had no idea what CADMUS was, just that they were collaborating with the U.S. Military to make you and forty-nine others into the ones that would “exterminate the roaches infesting the planet.”

Sounded more like “short-sighted discrimination with an unhealthy dash of xenophobia” than “rational thought for the human race” to you; but as long as you could protect Alex, you didn’t care how much of the mindless drivel you had to sit through.

You didn’t count how many times you found yourself strapped to a metal bed, or how many times you found a needle being stuck into you. Rather, you couldn’t. More than half the time, whatever they put into your bloodstream always made you feel woozy. Enough to make you practically perpetually confused.

Any recollection of your experiences during the experimentation were impossible to stir, and after seeing that one woman’s all-too-amused smirk a few too many times, you were convinced that it had been on purpose.

Before you knew it, another month had passed. Not that you would’ve realized it yourself. Your best guess would’ve been a week, if it weren’t for the woman General Lane had assigned to you telling you otherwise.

She was about your age, maybe a month or so younger. Lucia was her name if you remembered correctly. She’d been left by him to keep an eye on you, or to “keep you sane” as she worded so eloquently.

She was the first person you saw the moment you could properly think again. Her calming presence was a breath of fresh air, and for a moment, everything felt… nice.

Until a soldier barged through the door of your allocated resting area, screaming about an attack.

Time seemed to blur once again, and the next thing you knew, you were in the middle of a war zone. A mile or two from some desert base in the middle of nowhere.

Only you and the rest of the fifty who had been volunteered for the Eradication Program had been deployed. You wished you hadn’t been. The others were bloodthirsty, tearing through the opposition the moment they were ordered to. You, however, chose to take a step back and analyse the enemy.

Most of the “opposing force” looked to be human, not alien. None of them seemed hostile, either. Well… until they were provoked, that is. The human-like members of their group—who you’re sure actually were human—were being protected by their definitely-alien comrades, clearly not trained for combat or any attack whatsoever. In fact, if their attire was anything to go by, they all worked in what could be considered “support” occupations. Engineers, researchers, varying members of medical staff… not one of them appeared to be soldiers.

What was General Lane not telling you?

Were you really protecting National City?

…Were you even in National City?

You felt your comms crackle in your ears, said general’s voice screeching, “What the HELL are you doing?! Move your ass, Six!”

Right. Soldier Six, your call sign. Simply because you were the sixth one to wake up.

How original.

You huffed, and in retaliation to the general’s orders, you tore the device out of your ear and threw it as far as you could over your shoulder.

Because frankly, you didn’t want to. Not when you’d been pit against wrongly identified “hostiles.”

Despite your stubbornness to keep your feet rooted to your spot, soon enough, you didn’t have the privilege of choosing to abstain.

The other “volunteers”—all forty-nine of them—began to stop and convulse. Their flesh rippled beneath their skin, muscles expanding and contracting in an obscene manner.

Something had gone wrong. Horribly wrong.          

Each and every one of them mutated appallingly right before your very eyes, all of them attaining a different level of horrendous to another. Some grew limbs, some lost them. Others had extra eyes while a handful had one left or none at all. A few had their nails elongate into claws, others had a tailbone that whipped its way through the air. More than half had lost the colours of their irises—no, not just the colour. The pupils and irises themselves disappeared completely. It was a horrific spectacle to behold.

To call these things a shell of their former selves, would be insulting to the humans they used to be.

Was this going to happen to you?

You didn’t have much time for your thoughts. The one thing that didn’t change was the sheer amount of bloodthirst coursing through their veins. With the supposedly villainous aliens already exhausted, they wouldn’t last a second round against the other volunteer—

‘…No,’ You shook your head, fists clenched tight, ‘Those aren’t the volunteers anymore.’

From what you could see, those men and women died the moment the experiments started. All you could do for them, was help them rest in peace.

And you doubt they’d be getting any rest with their bodies wreaking havoc as these beasts.

Using the enhanced abilities you shared with the monstrosities, you slowly but surely took them out one by one.

They fought like animals.

Yet no matter how many times they slashed at your body, no matter how many times they lunged for your head, nor how many times they made you bleed, you continued to end every single one of them. You didn’t want any of them to suffer longer than they already have.

As with most things nowadays, in your eyes, the details were nothing but a blur. Everything felt… vague. Flashes of claws, bones, and agonizing pain run through your mind, yet no instance remained distinct for more than a second.

…Was this a symptom? Of the experiment, or the transformation?

Fear of the truth made you falter, and a skeletal tail surging straight through your right thigh forced your focus to return. But then so too would the questions, along with the subsequent terror, until another wound started the cycle another time. Again and again, until after what felt like an eternity, the last of them finally fell with an inhuman screech. It was done. But at what cost?

You surveyed your battleground, heart heavy and clenched in an icy grip. You couldn’t protect them, save them. Any of them.

A mighty hack then reverberated through the painfully silent air and caused you to flinch. Your head snapped up to turn to its direction, your feet already making their way over. You’d thoughtlessly skidded onto your knees, the coin-flip reaction bringing you to the survivor’s side. It was an alien.

Your eyes were wide in alarm, hands flittering around as your mind buzzed at what to do. There were so many injuries. Far too many for him to survive, alien or no. Your eyes met his, and your breath hitched in surprise. His irises didn’t scream anger or disgust like you expected. Instead, they were shining in wonder so innocent, it was almost childlike.

“You… Your body… did not… revolt?” the dying male grinned, placing a hand in yours to grip it in glee, “M-Miracle! It… I-It is m-miracle!”

For a moment, you were confused. Until you followed his gaze and watched as your body slowly stitched itself back together. One shallow cut in particular caught your attention, the damage slowly disappearing before your very eyes, leaving not a single blemish on your skin. You’d been so focused on fighting, that you didn’t even stop and wonder how you were still alive. After this day, there may not even be a single scar found.

At another bloody cough, newfound healing abilities were far from the forefront of your mind. Your vision blurred with tears, a sob escaping without your control. It was your fault. It was all your fault.

“Sorry…” You hadn’t spoken in so long, your voice harsh and throat sore, “I- I’m so sorry.”

He weakly shook his head, “B-Blame… not… on y-you. Deceived. We… We all… were…”

“W-What?”

With a wince, he forced his other arm to point to one of his fallen allies, a human researcher about a meter or so north of you.

“Necklace… take…” the light in his eyes was beginning to die, you could see it and he could feel it. Forcing a shaky smile, he murmured in his broken English, “Promise… y-you… not feel… guilty?”

“I…”

You knew you’d feel guilty.

You should, shouldn’t you? This was all your fault! You were careless and made a mistake once again. You didn’t see through the veil, you weren’t smart enough. You couldn’t stop the others, you weren’t quick enough.

You weren’t enough.

And just like before, people suffered because of it.

But… although he was on his last seconds of life, he looked at you so brightly. He was still so hopeful. How could you break such a wonderous being in his last moments?

You shook your head ‘no,’ lying, knowing this would be a wound that would last a long time to come. From the huff he gave, you felt like he knew that too.

Nonetheless, he coughed out, “P-Promise?”

You swallowed, feeling a fresh wave of hot tears cascading down your cheeks. With another lurch from your heavy heart, you gave him a nod and a shaky smile of your own, “I promise.”

His smile grew a fraction wider, “P… Pro… mise…”

His last breath left him, leaving the hand still in yours to fall, limp.

You were wrong earlier, there was a scar left behind.

The laceration you’d received from foolishly grabbing onto a tail, the one injury that had been obscured from your sight by his hold, had left a mark. You knew what it would be. A memento, of another time you’d failed. Of the first time your naivety took the life of another. You let a sob escape your control.

And another…

And another…

For hours you stayed on the blood-soaked sand, the coarse particles dyed red with the proof of the violent loss of life. By the time you heard a chopper land meters away to analyse the aftermath, your tears had long since dried and the last remnants of your rampant emotions were now trapped deep within, leaving only your now-signature emotionless mask. Thankfully, they understood enough that your mind was stuck elsewhere and didn’t bother to get a mission report out of you.

They did, however, cheer at the averted “crisis.”

All except Lucia. It was a small comfort, but a comfort, nonetheless. Rather than cheering, she sat next to you, a consoling hand on your shoulder as she murmured apologies for wrongs not her own.

For a brief moment, you wondered why she was here. What her role was in all of this mess, how she got caught up in it…

But when the others’ voices drowned out Lucia’s and all you could hear was their excitement and joy, your thoughts were immediately overrun by pure rage. Your stare morphed into a glare as your eyes kept themselves glued to the carnage below, hand clutching the unseen necklace concealed by your dog tags.

You were the only one who survived.

You were the only success.

You were now a monster.

 ~~~

 It was two years later after that, that the third occurrence happened.

Although you held a great amount of distrust for the U.S. Military, you never left their command. Foolishly, you stayed and did whatever they said. You went to where they told you you’d been needed. You fought who they told you to fight. You killed who they told you to kill.

All because of your own fear.

What if you were already transforming? What if your body was just one second away from fighting whatever gave you your powers? What if, the moment you left… you went berserk?

One “what if” after another festered in your mind, leading to you to forcibly suppress your own self and play their perfect little soldier, if only to keep your own body at bay should it ever run amok.

After all, they created you. The only ones who would know how to stop you would be them, right?

Besides, what would you even do once you left? They’d written the end of your life for you the moment you agreed to be a lab experiment.

Who would you have turned to?

Alex?

You scoffed at the thought. You said “yes” to help protect her, not drag her into the damn problem.

For a year and a half, you’d justified your stay with those thoughts, and for more than half of that time you let yourself be used as a mere weapon. It took you a year until you accepted the truth of your situation, and it wasn’t until roughly three months prior to your third failure that you finally let yourself see reason.

 .

.

.

 You sat up on your bunk, eyes on your hands, staring at blood that none but you could see. Sweat dripped from your brow, faint screams echoing in your eardrums, audible just beneath the vigorous beating of your heart.

‘I can’t keep this up…’ You released a shuddering breath, ‘How long will I have to keep this up?!’

Ever since that day in the desert, your nights were never peaceful, your sleep never serene. You’d long since gotten used to the endless screams of terror, the unending stream of unfamiliar faces contorting in woe. But what you hadn’t prepared for—what you never thought you’d ever need to prepare for—was for those faces to suddenly become familiar.

Alex had been petrified, the alien terrified, and Lucia… Lucia lay on the bloodied, black dirt, prone. Her face perpetually mortified. Even after you lurched forward in your bed and had left the realm of dreams, their suffering still danced in the shadows of your surroundings, the remnants of their frightened faces flashing in your eyes like some ghastly slideshow.

Their misery was because of you. You’d stumbled too deep into the haze, and by the time you came out, you had become what you feared the most. The cause of their torment.

‘What am I doing with my life?’

It was on that night that you truly accepted the reality of your situation. You had let your mind wander and, without realizing, let yourself function on autopilot for too long. It wasn’t until now, on this night—when you were terrorized by their screams—that you accepted that fact. But you felt it was already too late.

By mindlessly putting your life on the line, you had saved hundreds of lives—or so you were told. Yet for every life you saved, you knew there had been at least one you’d taken in return.

Your comrades rejoiced at your feats, and even a few of the higher-ups praised your work.

And yet…

Why did you feel nothing? Why did you feel out of place?

Why did you feel like you were doing something you weren’t meant to?

You’d been confused, very much so. For over a year, in fact. Your body felt ironically alien. Different. As if you’d been sleepwalking the past two years. Your memories, too, felt foreign. They were more like dreams than anything else.

No… “dream” was far too nice of a word.

Nightmare—like vulnerable—seemed more fitting.

Your recollection of the past two years was a mess. There were only a handful of distinct memories you could recall, and all were of them. Alex… the alien… and Lucia. The rest were all a hazy blur, a fever dream that kept you jumping from one horrific scene to another.

You didn’t even know who you’d been fighting the entire time. No one ever gave you a clear picture, only stating where you were needed and what had to be done. You vaguely remember a mix of terrified faces, both alien and human. What did they even do wrong?

Did they even do wrong?

It was then that reality truly sunk in. You already knew that you were a weapon, one for them to use however and whenever they saw fit. What was hardest to swallow was the fact that the blood you’d let yourself spill—blood you could’ve chosen not to spill—could very well have been those of innocents.

You buried your face into your knees, fingers threading through your hair and gripping your pounding skull. You felt your nails dig into your scalp.

Luckily for your tattered mental state, Lucia had been there to help anchor you back to reality.

She murmured lowly as she gently pried your fingers from your head, and though her words went through one ear and out the other, her voice alone soothed you. You found that she knew exactly what to do, and even let you bury your face into her shoulder as she cooed at you softly, her hands tenderly drawing calming patterns on your back.

You’d been so happy that she was there. It wasn’t until hours later, after both of you had passed out in emotional exhaustion, that you woke up and realized that she had always been there. You’d just been too stuck in your own mind to see her.

When she woke up, her eyes meeting yours, neither of you spoke a word. Yet you both knew your dynamic had shifted, the air between you different. It simply went unsaid.

It didn’t go unseen, however. Everyone knew how dangerous you were, and after a rookie’s idiotic mistake, knew how equally dangerous it was to make Lucia unhappy in any way.

(His shoulder wouldn’t shove into others the same way again, nor would his ego inflate with the chasm you’d left.)

Stupidly, despite the revelations of that night—perhaps even because of said revelations—you continued living under the government’s employ.

In your mind, it was no longer just for your fear, it was also for her sake. If you left, you knew she would do whatever it took to stay by your side, regardless of the danger. Even if you were to be hunted, experimented, or executed, she would stay. And none of those fates were any you would allow to befall her.

No matter the gruesome sights that looped in your mind like a film at some grisly theatre, you jumped into the fray again, and again, and again. Still as reckless. Still as unrelenting. Still as guilty.

Not a single complaint ever left your lips. You felt you deserved it. But more importantly, you felt you were protecting her.

She didn’t agree.

The topic had been the spark of many arguments between the two of you, one such case being…

“You can’t keep doing this—you can’t keep living like this!”

‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

You stayed silent, sat on your bed in your designated quarters. Your eyes were trained on her pacing form as you fiddled with the fresh bandages on your arms, replies only said in mind.

At this point, this scene was common. You’d gotten injured, she’d gotten frustrated, and you had the decency to listen. You knew Lucia wasn’t mad at you. Annoyed? Maybe. But not mad. Her anger was always directed at the same people, and never to you. She just hated to see you hurt.

‘Unfortunately, it’s an occupational haza—'

“—And don’t you say it’s an occupational hazard!”

Or… not?

Lucia stopped in her tracks, eyes boring into your own, “There are always ways to complete your missions without you ending up a bloody mess, but they don’t care about that, do they? As long as the mission is completed as soon as possible, they don’t give a damn. What if you never healed? What if you actually found something that would actually get you killed?” 

You had no response for that.

“They don’t even know of the full extent of your powers—none of us do! They started sending you out the day after that desert! Yet here we are again… I don’t understand why we don’t just leave.”

You opened your mouth to speak for the first time, to remind her of the dangers of such a plan just as you always had in the past, when you felt your hairs stand on end. Someone was eavesdropping. Your glare flashed to the door, spotting an eye widen at your stare before rushing off. You’d rush after them, but you knew nothing could be done without arousing suspicion. This base was full soldiers, and thus witnesses. Unfortunately, it was also full of snitches.

You stood abruptly, causing Lucia to jerk in surprise. Her brow furrowed when she spotted the grim frown you now wore.

“We’re leaving. Now.”

She could only blink in shock, “Now?”

“Now.”

The conversation would’ve been seen as treason. Or, at best, the start of it. You needed to run.

She followed your unwavering stare to the door, the sight of its slight opening making the cogs in her mind connect the dots. Someone had heard, and were no doubt reporting you. Her shock melted into determination, “I’ve already got a bag of necessities packed in case of an emergency escape. Let’s go.”

Next thing you knew, you were both dashing through corridors, unfamiliar alarms blaring the moment you had retrieved her bag. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who had prepared for this eventuality.

Squad after squad were sent after you both, all made up of people you’d seen as comrades and allies not even an hour before. Any fondness you held for each of them, however, immediately dissipated the moment they aimed a gun even a meter in Lucia’s direction. With a growl, you tore through every single one of them, unabashed by their betrayed yells so long as her safety was assured.

But you’d made a mistake. You were focused too much on those aiming for her, that you forgot there were others targeting yourself. Lucia didn’t. Which is why she spotted the soldier pulling out a weapon from a case before you did.

It looked like a gun, but she knew it was different. She could feel that it was. When they overlooked her completely and aimed for you, she knew she was right. Without a second thought, she shoved you out of the way, just as the soldier pulled the trigger.

A bang echoed in your ears, then a pained scream and a thud.

Your heart dropped. She’d pushed you away. Because of her, the bullet only grazed your torso… before tearing straight through her own.

You fell to your knees, not sparing a glance away from Lucia even as you put a bullet straight through the head of the soldier responsible.

“You IDIOT! Why would you do that?! You know I would’ve survived it!”

Your eyes were panicked, breathing growing more erratic by the second as you attempted to staunch the blood flowing from her wound. There was so much blood… why was there so much blood?!

“No…” she shook her head, “You… You wouldn’t’ve. N-Not… Not this one.”

You could hear footsteps and voices growing closer. You ignored them.

“I always survive, it’s my THING!” You gritted your teeth, ignoring the tears leaving tracks down your cheeks, “Stop talking, would you?! You need all your damn energy!”

Lucia simply smiled, even as more of the coppery liquid slid down the side of her mouth, “Promise me… promise me you w-won’t blame yourself f-for this?”

Déjà vu. Taunting, agonizing, déjà vu.

“I… I…” more tears, and a sob. What ever happened to control? “…I can’t.”

Her smile didn’t waver, as if she expected your response. Instead, she lifted a hand to your cheek, thumb gently wiping a tear away, “I know what you’re thinking, and I know it’s hard f-for you t-to think otherwise, love… but this isn’t your fault. I chose to do this. Y-You couldn’t’ve done anything to stop me.”

“…” You shook your head in disbelief, feeling more blood seep through your fingers.

Why wouldn’t the bleeding stop?!

“C’mon, love. P-Please, look at me?”

“…”

You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to see her so accepting of her fate.

Yet you couldn’t help the confused furrow of your brows at her tapping your jaw, your focus immediately swivelling to her. Not on instinct, but in question, confusion, and slight betrayal. You’d never regretted telling her of your first love, of admitting that there were some things you could never forget. Until now.

“Th-There you are. I know it hurts, but you have t-to p-promise me, then you need to leave me.”

The familiar action had increased your pain tenfold, but her words had the panic in your eyes grow more intense, blood freezing in your veins.

‘No. NO. NononoNO—’ You looked away as you felt your body quake, the chill caused by her words making your limbs feel like lead, ‘Not you… anybody but you!’

You felt her tap your jaw again, but you didn’t look to her, preferring to stubbornly keep your eyes on your hands. You wouldn’t- You couldn’t.

“Please…” Lucia’s voice sounded so small, distant. Just like with the alien, you knew she was on her last breaths, and so did she, “L-Listen to me… they… now want you… gone. I-I know… it’s a lot to ask, but you have to leave me. Please. T-That bullet was meant f-for you—”

You couldn’t help but snap, “What bullet isn’t when I’m out on the field?!”

“N-No, love. T-They made it for you. T-To kill you…” she weakly shook her head, “I… I… s-saw it… wasn’t… normal.”

“Shit—SHIT! Why can’t I stop the god damn bleeding?!”

You hated that there were so many things that you couldn’t do. Why can’t you just do something—anything—right for once?!

As always, she knew where your mind was headed, “N-No matter… how little… y-you… think of yourself… I know y-you were meant… to be amazing. F-From the moment I… I saw you… I knew you’d be… a… a-a hero.”

“What kind of fucking hero can’t even save the person she loves?!” head hung low, you pulled your hands away from her wound, reluctantly accepting that it was futile, “What kind of useless hero am I?”

You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, the other draping itself across her stomach. You shifted yourself closer, cautiously embracing the dying woman. Apology after apology left your mouth, your tears dripped down from your cheeks only to mix with her own.

“It’s not… your… fau…” her hand, now much weaker than it had been earlier, fell limply onto the arm you’d placed on her stomach. When her fingers lightly squeezed your forearm, you knew what she expected. You released your grip on her hip, linking your hand with hers, making her chuckle faintly, “I-It… theirs… y-y’hear me? N-Never fo… forget… ‘s wasn’t… fault…”

“I… I won’t…”

You knew you’d never forget this day… just as how you’d never forget where the fault would forever lay in your mind.

“L… Love you…” her eyes were fluttering shut, and at the tug of her hand, you knew what she wanted.

You leaned closer, your lips pressing on hers for the final time. Only a second later did her last breath leave her lungs, and with it, one more piece of your fragile heart.

You could only stare, hoping that she would open her eyes and fill the deafening silence. But she didn’t, and you had to accept that she never would. When your mind finally opened itself to the rest of the world, you could hear the soldiers. Their orders for you to back down… or, more specifically, his.

General Lane.

When you saw a glimpse of his face, everything turned red and screams replaced the buzzing in your ears. You could never remember much past their anguish.

All you knew was the gash on your torso healed, but the mark never faded.

~~~

 Six months passed, and sleep was still a stranger. So were your mind and memories, but what else was new?

You had no idea where you were, you never did more than half the time. More often than not, you’d find yourself lost in thought, staring off at nothing as your finger lightly traced the scar hidden beneath your shirt. Sometimes you’d snap out of it, standing in the middle of an unfamiliar area. Occasionally, you’d stop yourself mid-step as you were walking or crossing the street.

Either way, people would be staring at you like you were insane. You couldn’t blame them, you felt like you were. That was fine, you never stayed in one area for long anyway.

For the past couple of months you’d been hopping from place to place, lingering only for three days at most. You didn’t have to do much to conceal your identity, considering the government already got rid of it for you. You did get yourself a new name, though.

Corazon.

Wasn’t exactly subtle to you, but it was better than Soldier Six and at least you could remember it.

How could you not, when your mistakes were always made by your soft heart?

You only wished that you had the ability to rid yourself of your emotions, then at least living would be somewhat bearable. You hated that even the smallest things could trigger your beating heart. It could’ve been a hair colour, a laugh, or just an oblivious pair holding hands, your heart wouldn’t fail to work with your fractured memories and remind you of what you’d lost.

You wished you could split the two, or at least rid yourself of one… maybe even both. You couldn’t think without feeling, nor feel without thinking. If you had no way to feel, no way to have a conscious thought, or both, then living a seemingly deathless life would be bearable. Sure, that sort of life isn’t one others would say is worth living, but neither is the one you are now.

The only thing keeping you away from finding a way to have that ‘plan’ to come into fruition, was the fact that—as far as you know—only the government could ‘help.’

You never wanted to make contact with those bastards again.

“Wha- HEY!”

At the indignant yell, you blinked yourself out of your stupor. Confused, you looked around.

You’d wandered into an alley. Huh.

Hearing a groan, you glanced down, spotting a boy who couldn’t’ve been any older than mid-teens. He was sat on the concrete, rubbing his forehead, having presumably fallen after colliding with you.

Then, you heard yelling.

You looked up and saw a group of men pointing and yelling unintelligibly at the boy at your feet. He sprang up and made a move to exit, only for your hand on his shoulder to stop him in his tracks. You felt his eyes on you, but yours never left the group stomping closer as they brandished their makeshift weapons in a supposedly threatening manner.

Hammers, nails in bats, metal pipes… generic, stereotypical, bad guy weapons. You saw a gun or two poking out from the waistbands of their pants, yet you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

When they stopped in front of you, they even puffed out their chests to make themselves look bigger. One of them stepped forward and grumbled with a voice made forcibly gruff, “You with this brat?”

“Pff,” You only shook your head in mirth. You’d heard of people like this in movies, but you never knew they actually existed.

His lips curled up into a snarl, “What’s so funny.”

“…” You smiled, tilted your head in faux innocence, and admitted clearly, “You.”

Predictably, your response infuriated him, and he launched himself towards you to attack.

Within a minute, him and his group were all unconscious, weapons—including their guns—left splintered and bent on the damp ground.

You grumbled, “Idiots.”

With another roll of your eyes, you spun on your heels and moved to leave the scene… only to face an overexcited fourteen-year-old.

“That was AWESOME!”

“!”

You blinked. You’d forgotten he was there. You watched, an eyebrow raised as he asked question after question, each going through one ear and out the other. Your mind didn’t register a single one, but from the rapid rate the words seemed to leave his lips, the number seemed endless.

Didn’t he need to breathe?

It was here that the boy lurched to a stop, his lungs lacking the air required to allow speech. You only blinked when he took in just a little too much oxygen. His overdramatic wheezing caused you to smirk and huff in mild amusement. His eyes darted to you at the noise, focusing on your mirth as he smacked a fist against his chest in an effort to abate his hacking.

“You…” he coughed again, “You don’t talk much, do you?”

You only offered a shrug in response. Considering past experience, human interaction wasn’t something you necessarily searched for. Generally, they all ended up morphing into some form of confrontation for you—or loss, but that was a thought hurriedly buried in the deepest recesses of your mind.

The boy wasn’t deterred by your silence. Instead, he seemed even more determined to fill the space with his own words. Again, most of them generally went through one ear and out the other.

“—I’m Lucas!”

Wait. Why was the kid telling you their name?

You still didn’t reply, but ‘Lucas’ didn’t seem fazed and continued, saying, “My friends call me Luke, though!”

He then scratched his head sheepishly, “Well… they would, if I had any.”

Head tilted in a questioning manner, your brow furrowed at his admission, movements that he managed to notice.

“Ah… well, nobody ever wants to be friends with the weird kid.”

You raised your eyebrow, and he pointed to the unconscious group at your feet as an explanation.

“Wouldn’t be the first time these guys went after me, and they don’t care whether I’m at school or not,” Lucas kicked away a stray can, giving the men an annoyed sneer, “Just that Dad ‘pays them back’ or something, I dunno. No one really wants to be caught up in a mess like this.”

You’d followed his gaze, staring at the people sprawled out on the dirty floor.

What were these guys, self-proclaimed tax collectors? Loan sharks? Wannabe gang members?

That last one seems to fit them to a T.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the loud growling of a stomach. And it wasn’t yours.

Shaking your head, you glanced back at Lucas, his face red in embarrassment. Without hesitation, you rooted through the pockets of a few of the men, forgoing their cards and instead pulled out handfuls of cash from their wallets.

You may already be considered a criminal by the U.S. Army, but you didn’t want more on your record than you already had. And you had standards.

You’d rather have “assault” and “pickpocketing” on that record over “not paying for fast food” any day. That last one just seems like a real shitty thing to be arrested over. Besides, you’d never steal from ordinary civilians… but you’d make exceptions for assholes.

You moved to leave the alley again, tousling Lucas’ hair as you went past. When you didn’t hear his footsteps following, you stopped at the entrance, sending another glance back towards his way you huffed at his stupefied expression before jerking your head in a gesture to follow. You couldn’t help but smile at his joyful expression, biting back a chuckle at his excited hopping at your side.

“Nice to meet you, Luke.”

.

.

.

Six more months passed, and after meeting Lucas, you haven’t left the town. You’d found out that he’d essentially raised himself. The kid’s mother was gone, and he didn’t know why. You met his father, and after that one meeting you knew he was useless. His debts weren’t even for necessities, just for his alcohol and gambling. Guy didn’t even seem to care that his son was the one suffering most from the consequences of his actions.

You were annoyed, but after witnessing him passed out in a bathtub, reaching over the edge to clutch at a toilet while a bottle of whiskey hung from his fingers, you knew he was a lost cause. Lucas knew it, too. Admitted that he’d known so for years.

You felt bad for the kid and did what you could to help. You kept those lackeys off his back. Got him clothes, food, school supplies if he needed them. You didn’t tell him where you got the money and he never asked, but considering how you’d initially met you assume he had a slight idea. You still didn’t talk much, and your attention span failed you at times, but he understood. He knew that you were at least trying.

At times he’d ask you for help with his homework, and you were convinced it caused you just as much grief as it did him. You could barely remember what happened months or a year before, let alone what you’d learnt over a decade ago.

You were a weapon, not a teacher. You could teach him how to kick ass with the best of them, but you didn’t know shit about literature or geography. Or whatever it was high schoolers learnt these days.

Even when you were working with the government, you didn’t have to know how to get around yourself. They just shipped you to the mission location and back, and that was that. You didn’t even know you got around now, considering how most of your time on the road was spent in your head.

You swear he only asked you to laugh at you. You’d try to intimidate him with a deadpan stare, but that only made the cheeky brat laugh louder. Your exasperation would fizzle out soon enough, his joy infectious. You found yourself feeling… happy. Normal. Like an average human. Something you never thought would be a near-unreachable standard.

But of course, as always, happiness in your life never lasted long.

You’d stopped moving. You stayed in one place for too long.

You’d focused too much on the present, that you forgot about the past you’d been running to escape. And so, it caught up.

You were running again. They were at your heels, this time. And you couldn’t just beat them into the ground.

Their weapons looked different. Their bullets hurt.

You didn’t want to believe that this was happening. Just this morning you’d been laughing with Lucas, pancake batter and syrup drizzled over your heads.

Now all you could hear were shouts and gunfire, blood dripping down a healing cut at your temple.

You wanted them to lose your tracks, but you knew how they worked. If you disappeared completely, they’d have to look for clues. Which would lead them to Lucas. Which was why you were leading them, herding them away like sheep to be as far away from the kid as possible. But it was not meant to be.

“Sis!”

The voice made electricity shoot up your spine, catching more than just your attention. You noticed a few soldiers turn to look his way as he ran towards you, even as you shook your head and urged him to turn back. He wouldn’t. You were family, how could he leave you behind?

“LUKE, RUN!”

…Was that your voice? Sometimes you’d forget what your voice sounded like, and not using it for weeks at a time definitely didn’t help your case.

He skidded meters away, eyeing the soldiers, his face conflicted, “But—”

You heard the crackling of their comms and spotted a few guns being pointed his way, one of them even pulled out a pin.

What the fuck was General Lane thinking?!

The kid was a civilian, not a criminal!

You sprinted over to Lucas, body shielding his within a second. You felt bullets pierce your back, easily tearing through the fabric of your clothing. You heard Lucas yelling for them to stop, but you knew they wouldn’t listen. You heard the tell-tale clinking of a grenade rolling on the concrete and you tightened your grip around him, eyes screwed shut. You heard the bellowed orders “TAKE COVER” and then…

Pain.

Searing, white-hot, pain was spreading on your back. You felt shrapnel enter your torso, the heat eating away at your skin. You forced yourself to endure the agony.

You were protecting him.

You repeated those four words in your mind like a mantra, mind clinging to them for a way to ground itself.

When you felt the dust settling, the ringing in your ears calming, you dared to open your eyes. And you wish you didn’t.

Despite your best efforts, Lucas had been hit. Twice. The projectiles had presumably ricocheted. Whether it was shrapnel or bullets, you didn’t know. All you knew was that he was wounded, and that you’ve failed once again.

“No…” You rasped out, tears obscuring your vision. Your throat hurt from disuse, but you continued to force the words out, “No… kid, not you too!”

“Hah,” Lucas laughed, not noticing the blood that came with the motion, “I’m… I… I didn’t e-expect to go like this. P-Pretty badass, huh?”

His eyes were beginning to flutter closed, the light in his eyes quickly dulling. Your breath hitched in your throat, and gritting your teeth, you muttered, “No, no… c’mon, eyes on me bud. Eyes on me!”

His head weakly flopped to the side as he grinned, teeth stained with blood, “S’okay… was meant t-to be gone in… in… that alley. Y’saved me… y’let me be happy… thank you.”

Lucas went limp. Just like that, he was gone. And so were you.

You didn’t flinch when the wounds on your back slowly stitched themselves back together, no doubt leaving a mark as every failure always did.

You didn’t resist when they forcefully yanked you away, uncaring that they had just taken the life of an innocent. The life of a child.

You felt someone forcefully lift your head, to which you muttered, “Kill me. Please.”

You didn’t speak any more after that, no matter how much they tried to get a reaction.

No… you wouldn’t do anything until you were either dead, or put face-to-face with the bastard you knew gave the order.

And as expected, they put him right where you wanted him.

You were back at the base, arid desert and all.

They’d seated you in a metal chair, one bolted down to the thick concrete beneath your feet. Your arms were forced to lie flush against its armrests, wrists cuffed into place.

You were in one of the interrogation rooms, metal walls to the front, back and the left. You weren’t fooled. You knew the wall to the right was a one-sided window. To know that there were people just watching you…

You felt like an animal.

It was only after General Lane stood across from you, after the only door leading in and out of the room clicked shut, that you even twitched. Your attention finally drifted up from the flimsy metal cuffs that they’d clamped around your wrists—not that they knew your strength had grown—and to the poor excuse of a man attempting to stand tall.

You glared at him, unabashedly showing the hatred burning within you. It made him swallow, despite the poker face he attempted to keep up. Your silent staring contest stretched on and on, his mouth repeatedly opening and closing in indecision. He wanted to speak, but had no idea what to say.

The people behind the window had plenty of words, though. You couldn’t catch all of them, but you managed to decipher a muffled few.

“Dad” was one. Which meant one of the people might’ve been his kid. Wouldn’t be implausible. Last time you paid attention to him, he had two. Girls, if your memory actually served you correct. And two of the voices you could hear were distinctly feminine.

“Our” was another, spoken with a lilt for emphasis before “Dad”, which meant both of his kids were there. If your first assumption was correct.

“Superman” was the last one you heard. It was the word that caused you the most grief. Why mention the “Man of Steel”? You remembered hearing someone rant about the Kryptonian, mentioning a possible relation between the hero and a journalist. One of General Lane’s kids was a journalist. That could pose a problem. If his kids really were on the other side of the glass, and Lucas’ info—

‘Luke.’

Any hesitation you had dissipated instantly. No matter what would become of you, you’d make this bastard pay. It was the least you could do.

Breaking away from the General’s stare, your eyes flashed to the window, cogs turning in your mind. Perhaps you could do worse than cause simple, physical, pain. You could expose him, have his children lose their faith in him. Even if they weren’t his children, they would be his soldiers. It could lead to questioning of his authority.

It was worth a shot. Besides, what did you have to lose?

“You killed him,” you snarled, “He was just a boy, but you killed him.”

You shot up from your seat. Rather, you shot up with your seat. The cuffs were still in place, but the bolts that held the seat down had lost their hold with a resounding crack.

General Lane jumped back in shock, the doorknob now jiggling as his soldiers desperately tried to come to his aid.

Without missing a beat, you tore your hands out of their restraints and pulled the long metal table that separated you two upwards, shoving it legs-first into where the door would be. The legs went right through the wall, the body of the table now blocking the entrance as well as the door itself.

‘That’s the front wall and entrance covered…’

With an audible growl, you turned back to the general, the man now scrambling back to push himself flat against a wall in fear. He was pointing a pistol at you, but you were undeterred.

You took a step, and he took a shot.

You took another, and he did the same.

You took a third, and the man emptied his gun into your torso.

You weren’t fazed, your fury burning too great for you to feel anything other than rage.

He looked like he was about to reply to your yell, but you cut him off before he could, snapping, “Your problem was with me. It always has been. There was no need for you to involve a civilian, let alone ordering your men to open fire!”

“I… I—”

“I wanted to live, so you tried to have me die. When I do want to die, you keep me alive. How much more do I have to suffer for you to be satisfied?! How much longer do I have to exist, for my wants to actually matter?!”

As you stomped closer towards him, you gripped the chair that had been meant for him and threw it across the room. The object formed a deep dent upon impact and rendered the back wall weak.

Releasing another growl, you lifted him up by the collar of his uniform, “How much lower are you going to fall, after murdering that poor boy? Is there even a bar lower for you to reach?!”

The general continued to ignore the futility of repeatedly pulling the trigger of his empty pistol, desperate for a way out. But without a miracle, he would never be able to escape.

Unfortunately, he got one. It came in the form of a Kryptonian, at that.

Superman broke through the dented wall, quick in separating you from the general. You felt your back smack against the one-sided window, the cool glass cracking beneath your flesh.

Oh, right. You hadn’t had the chance to change. Your shirt was still burnt at the back, the rest of your clothing tattered at the edges and your feet shoeless. Your state of dress seemed to come as a surprise to Superman, too. If the brief moment he took to observe his ‘opponent’ was any indication.

You glanced at the wall he’d used as an entrance. It wasn’t that much of a fall. It wouldn’t take much to heal if you got hurt. Ten seconds, at most.

Within a breath, you fearlessly leaped through the broken wall. You heard a choke of astonishment behind you as you did, but as much as you wanted to be amused by the alien, you recognized the threat he was to your freedom.

He was a goody-two-shoes. If he caught you, you’d just be locked up. And you’d be used as a lab rat or a weapon all over again. Never able to die.

You couldn’t let that happen.

You’d landed with a wince and a roll, a sickening crack shooting shocks up your left arm. You’d shaken off the pain, sprinting towards where you knew the weapons vault was. The rushing of wind reached your ears, indicating that the alien wasn’t far behind. Spotting the vault entrance straight ahead, you trusted your instincts and slid across the tile floor as if you were running a base. It worked.

Superman flew straight past you, and not expecting you to have sensed him coming, was going too fast to stop himself from crashing into the vault. Your eyes widened at the sight. You hadn’t predicted it either.

Hurriedly pushing yourself up to your feet, you’d rushed into the vault, mind flashing through the arsenal they had you use throughout the years. You’d known what they had in there, and one of them was definitely not good for a Super.

When you stepped foot into the vault, you were proven right. Superman was struggling to stand, green creeping its way through his veins.

“Shit…” without hesitation, you pulled him up. You wrapped his arm around your neck and dragged him out, uncaring of the guns pointed at you. You felt his questioning stare, and grumbled, “What.”

“Why?”

Such a simple question, made of only one word… yet the true nature of its complexity was beyond you. You shook your head. Not the time.

“Never wanted to kill anyone. Never wanted anyone dead, either…” You sighed, voice barely louder than a whisper, “Just wanted to be happy.”

Once you determined that he was at a safe enough distance, you promptly let him flop into the ground. You huffed at his comical “oof” before revealing the smoke grenade you had swiped from the vault. You pulled its pin, and as everyone’s vision began to be obscured, you muttered words only Superman could hear.

“Please, just leave me alone…”

 ~~~

You didn’t know if it was because of Superman’s influence, but you were. Left alone, that is.  Then again, it might’ve been because you’d kept away from civilization as best as you could, staying in forests for as long as you were able.

For how long at this point? You weren’t sure. By the time you’d left him in the smoke, it had been five years since the dorm with Alex. Three since the experiment. One since Lucia. And... none since Luke. 

With a shake of your head, their blurred faces and vague memories faded in an instant, the frown at the resurfacing thoughts of them quickly replaced with an easy-going smile.

The woods weren’t too bad.

The animals were surprisingly amicable, and you found an unfamiliar joy in jumping into lakes and rivers without any remorse. If you needed anything that couldn’t be provided naturally, the camp sites you’d managed to memorize the locations of were useful in that regard. Clothes, food, money…

You didn’t realize exactly how easy it was to steal from civilians until you weren’t one yourself.

Still... it should be troubling that you didn’t know how long you’d been living in the forests. Every day blurs together. You didn’t even know what forest you were living in. Or if you’d lived in more than one. Your memories continued to fracture, and due to lack of practice, you could feel your ability to speak and understand wavering.

Your memories…

Very few of them remained intact. You had a feeling that you had a part to play in it, intentional or not, considering that the ones you could remember seemed happy, and anything otherwise—anything that caused pain… either you got rid of them the second they came, or it made you retreat into the deepest recesses of your mind, never knowing how long you’d been in there the moment you returned to reality.

Could’ve been a few seconds, minutes, maybe even hours. It was partially why you’d lost track of how long you’d been living among the trees.

Every time you thought of your past, you were reminded of the burden that was carrying emotions. Of being human. It was roughly one month into living away from humans, that you accepted it was simpler to just ignore the fact that you had a life before this mess. That there had ever been happier times. If you couldn’t identify what was considered a ‘good’ memory, then you wouldn’t be sucked into the ‘bad’, right?

So you buried them. Even imagined little coffins for them and everything.

Part of you knows that it’s unhealthy. But that mindset is what led to those instances now being few and far in between—or, at least you hoped they were. Again, you didn’t really have a good sense of time.

But living was good. It was fun, not thinking of anything but what to do next. You could spend an entire day chasing after deer, or just climbing a tree. And do the same thing all over again tomorrow!

…It all sounds a bit boring now that you think about it. But oddly enough, the days were surprisingly fun. If you really wanted a thrill, all you had to do was start wrestling a bear! That was fun.  

You were actually rushing away from one right now, teasingly dangling yourself from one branch of a tree to another, when you heard a scream. A female scream, and then… a crash. While the noise terrified the bear, it only intrigued you, drawing you closer. Almost like a siren’s call.

You dropped down to the forest floor, tackling the bear in the process. After absentmindedly hauling it over your shoulder, you dashed through the treeline within seconds. Once out of the forest, you coughed as you blinked at the wreckage before you.

Two vehicles had collided roughly thirty meters away, the smoke billowing from the smouldering wreck making your lungs burn. What startled you more was the armed man holding a gun up to an injured, blonde woman twenty meters away from the crash.

You blinked at the man, who seemed to be talking the woman’s ears off. Rather, what was the word… monologuing? Yeah. Monologuing.

His cocky grin made you roll your eyes, the action leading to you noticing the bear’s presence on your shoulder. An idea struck. Your eyes narrowed at the man, before glancing over to the bear. The man. The bear. The man…

“BEAR!”

You gleefully yelled, startling them both. But what brought complete horror upon both humans, was the fact that there was now a bear hurtling towards them. Correction, towards the man.

He dropped like a rock, him and the bear both did. Whereas the poor, unharmed-yet-traumatised fuzzy animal quickly scrambled to its feet before sprinting back into the woods, the effectively disarmed male stayed flat on the concrete, out cold.

Tilting your head to the side, you walked up to the unconscious human, your brows furrowing as you wondered why he wasn’t moving.

You sniffed and rubbed at your itching nose, wincing at the horrible stench of roasting rubber. You couldn’t tell if the blood you smelt came from the wounds after the crash, or after the bear.

You gave him a light tap of a foot, checking if he’d wake up anytime soon. When the man didn’t budge, you shrugged and turned to go back to the forest, only to freeze when you were startled by the female he’d been threatening. You’d forgotten she was there, and the woman was far closer than you remembered her to be.

She looked stunned.

Her hands were hovering by her cheeks, palms over her mouth, tears brimming in her eyes as she muttered… a name? It sounded familiar. You didn’t know why. You tilted your head, confused.

“You…” she sobbed, tears now flowing freely. She stammered out, “You don’t remember, do you?”

Who was this woman?

Cautiously, you shook your head. Your was body tense, knees bent and ready to escape if you needed to.

“Nothing? It’s me, Eliza,” another shake of your head. She sniffled, “Eliza Danvers? One of my daughters brought you over for Thanksgiving a few times, you were like a part of our family, before… before… you disappeared.”

Danvers.

You didn’t hear anything past that, the word—name?—had a tremor course through your skull. That was… worrying? It should be worrying, right?

Your hands flashed to your aching temples, gritting your teeth, you croaked out, “D-Dan… Danvers?”

You hadn’t said anything in months. Your throat was probably as painful to use as your voice was to hear.

Eliza’s eyes shined brighter in realization. You were remembering.

“Yes, Danvers! Do you… Do you remember my daughter? She’d been your closest friend. Alex, Alexandra Danvers—”

Static was all you could hear. You dropped to your knees, the pain growing more unbearable the more she spoke. You barely felt the gravel of the road digging into your knees.

Alex?

Alex.

Who was—

“No… Don’t!”

That was… you? Why was this hurting so much? What was going on?

Why didn’t you want to remember?

You felt hands on your shoulders, desperately trying to… to what? Snap you out? Of what? Pain? You didn’t even know why it came up, let alone how to stop it!

Then… then a chill. One you haven’t felt since you encountered… someone. You couldn’t remember them, either.

All you could hear were your instincts.

Instincts…

Your instincts were screaming, frantic in wanting you to leave. To escape.

So you followed them.

Shrugging Eliza’s hands off of your shoulders, you jumped to your feet and swiftly fled into the woods, not turning back once. Not even when you heard her scream a name—yours?—and especially not when you heard the tell-tale swoosh of… a cape? You didn’t know.

Your thoughts made no sense right now. All you wanted was to go back and forget. To go back into the woods and be happy.

Just… be happy.

[papirouge]

I'm a radfem and I'm definitely pro-choice but I do follow you cause I like to keep a variety of opinions on my dash. To be very blunt I have very little respect or patience for pro-lifers (btw I do not interact with you and I've never sent you an anon before this one, I'm a silent reader). But the longer I have followed you, the more I get to know about why you're pro-life (for ex from your tags in a recent post re: sex trafficking), and you always make some good points. However none of them are good enough to convert me to a pro-life stance. I think you are a very sympathetic person and you obviously don't *intentionally* want to harm women with your politics, your sensitivity and real-life experiences somehow brought you to an anti-choice stance (plus you're religious, like me, so I get how that might play into your final decision), but I hope you understand that the average pro-lifer is not like you & do not carry your best interests at heart. I hope that you continue to bring your valid criticisms of abortion to the table because they are valuable, but I do encourage you to re-examine how having the *choice* to abort is absolutely critical to the liberation and well-being of women. I have always been pro-choice (but never a *fan* of abortion), because I've seen how absolutely brutal it is to live in a place where that choice isn't there (I'm from SE asia but I can't give details cause I would like to remain anon). We aren't enemies and when I think that if me and you were in the same country, you'd vote against women having that choice (if we ever get the chance to vote here, that is!) it would be such a loss. We need voices like you, people who understand the problems with normalising abortion and the trauma it can bring to women's bodies but also love women enough to give them that choice. I hope you don't see my message as a cheap emotional dig at you, I'm not accusing you of not caring enough about women, I wouldn't be sending you a message at all if I thought so (I don't see value in debating people online who don't center the best interests of women in their politics). I hope I can invite you to discuss/read more about this at some point in the future (at your convenience and discretion).

First of all, I’d like to say I think you’re a very mature and open minded type of pro choice person to follow someone who’s pro life and I’m glad following me made you realize “we” had valid arguments

One thing I’d like to know is when you’re talking about the “average pro lifer”, who are you talking about? The American one? the religious one? the secular one? the French one? I don’t even know what a “regular” pro lifer is as being pro life isn’t a definite “personality” type. It makes total sense that toxic people might weaponize this opinion to feel entitled to be awful and shaming and bully women, but they do not represent the pro life movement as a whole. And yet, pro choicers/Radfem are fond of using that brand of toxic pro life people to brush this whole movement as misogynist and religion focused, totally ignoring the countless other pro life people or organization who are led by women, social/health workers, non-religious (not that all religious pro life organizations are bad though), non-conservative, etc... which are rather proponent of a more encompassing approach this issue with no condemnation concerning abortive mothers or sexually active women.

I acknowledge some pro choicer can be as sensible & moderate as you and are not all sociopaths bragging about having countless abortions (there are literal posts floating around in tumblr stating “they love abortion”). The “pro life movement” isn’t a monolith. It’s just a bunch of people who think 1) the humanhood of unborn baby is non-debatable 2)murdering unborn babies is fundamentally bad. It’s just the way they’ll convey this message may vary according to their political, social, cultural or religious background. I wish pro choicer had the honesty to acknowledge that instead of brushing the WHOLE pro life stance as an evil movement which only purpose was to hate and bully women... Which leads to your second point : linking abortion to female liberation. To which I’d like to ask back : what freedom(s) does pregnancy remove? Trying to normalize abortion based on the “inconvenience” of pregnancy is like trying to cut your whole hand when you catch a finger in a door. Pregnancy is preventable (we all have a “choice” to not get pregnant by choosing to not have sex) and is a normal biological process which itself isn’t harmful with a proper health system. The only reason pregnancy is harmful for women is because of male violence (rape, forced marriage, etc..) and lack of sexual education - both are totally independent of the objective reality of pregnancy. Yes pregnancy takes a toll on the body but so does abortions. Again, I hate how pro choice rely on abnormal situations to defend abortion, using American flawed health system to paint pregnancy as some mortal disease, calling fetuses “parasites”... With a decent health system, pregnancy death is totally preventable. In my country (France) there are 85 deaths for 811 000+ pregnancy per year, which amounts to 0.01% pregnancy death rate... So the narrative that pregnancy is this murderous & nefarious phenomenon hurting the female body is dishonest and wrong. So much for the “love our body” slogan... pro choice will be very quick to literally demonize fetuses and treat something as natural as pregnancy as a literal disease....

Getting pregnant because of a “bad” action doesn’t make the result of this action (=pregnancy) something to be erased to 'make up for it'. Actually in some instance it even helps to cover horrendous things (sex trafficking). That’s my biggest issue with this narrative of weaponizing the (already) harmful actions of people to justify the murder of unborn babies: instead of trying to fix the problems, they rely on a tragic and destructive ‘band-aid’. When you said it’s “brutal” for you to live in a country that doesn’t legalize abortion, what’s the source of that “brutality” exactly? the innocent unborn child or the actual perpetrators of this “brutality”? what leads to these unwanted pregnancies? It’s possible for women to control their fertility without relying on abortion to avoid unwanted pregnancies. The idea of “safe sex” is a delusion as there isn’t a 100% reliable contraception. It’s impossible to distance the biological capability of women to get pregnant when having (heterosexual) sex. My best got pregnant 2 times while taking the pill...

That’s why the whole “reconciling women with their biology” narrative pulled out by pro choice radfem never made sense to me because they are in the absolute denial of that biological reality. Saying this statement is considering women as “breeder” is false and inaccurate. No one is forcing you to have sex. And like I said, trying to eradicate the violence against women (rape, child abuse, forced marriage..) that is the root issue of unwanted pregnancy IS actually defended by many pro life organizations who a proponent of better healthcare & social policies. But when talking about violence, I’d like pro choicer to realize the actual violence of abortion : Planned Parenthood is taking donations to specifically abort Black babies, since 1973 (year abortion was legalized in the U.S.) more African American babies have been killed by ABORTION than the total number of African American deaths from all other causes COMBINED, letting disabled people know that they don’t deserve to exist by systematically killing in the womb babies with the same condition as them (one of my sister is one of them), and let’s no forget forced abortions on disabled and poor people... This is violence too. But somehow this violence is totally overlooked by pro abortion who in the same time pretend caring about Black Lives and think they’re allies to Black and disabled people.... I am not a “political” person, I don’t vote. My country has legalized abortion since 1974 but I don’t handle the pro life fight as a political one, but more of a social one. Spreading awareness online is already a good step. The simple fact that my blog helped you to handle this topic on a new light proves this strategy is working. Even if it doesn’t make anyone a “pro life”, it’s important to grasp the awful reality of abortion and not trivialize or glamorize it. I am not a proponent to make abortion illegal (=criminalizing aborting mothers), just make it unnecessary and inconceivable, with the help of better social & health policies and sexual education. Also, and I know it’s a controversial stance, remind people that abstinence is a total valid way to avoid unwanted pregnancy. Again, everyone has a choice to not get pregnant : it’s to NOT have sex. Legalizing abortion everywhere in the world won’t “liberate” women as female oppression reeks from male violence, not unborn vulnerable children. There’s literally nothing to justify the murder of someone innocent, and pro choicer know it. That's’ why their either try to vilify the existence of fetus (”parasite”), deny the humanhood of the fetus (‘it’s okay to kill it if it’s not human‘), or simply decide to put on the same level the consequences of abnormal situations (unwanted pregnancy) with their actual cause (rape, forced pregnancy...) to reckon BOTH as undesirable and needing to be eradicated (=> a child made from rape has to be eradicated BECAUSE rape is bad). I’d like also to note I was a former pro choice and follow a bunch of pro choice radfem account, so I’m quite familiar with that community and grasped a bunch of their arguments. It’s only when I started questioning this practice and documenting myself on the reality of abortion that it became obvious that I wasn’t on the ‘right’ side.

[honeypwark]

[ Pretty Girl ]

  ↳ Run Away era

       ↳ Kiryoung goes rock climbing... for some reason. She meets a new face. They get lunch.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Kiryoung has no idea what she’s doing here. That’s not entirely true, though. It started with Yeonjun teasing her, as per usual. This time, it was about her height (a rather unoriginal and overused topic of teasing amongst her members). More specifically, he was teasing her about how her height correlated with her strength and how she was “super weak and wimpy” compared to him and the other members.

She, of course, defended herself by saying there’s no feasible way she wouldn’t be the weakest member as all of the boys have at least eight inches on her. Her mistake came when she tried to claim she was fairly strong for her size. For context: she is not fairly strong for her size. She’s actually probably fairly weak for her size seeing as all her workouts consist of cardio and weight loss and not muscle gain. So unless you’re talking about heart health, Kiryoung is rather unfortunately weak.

This all leads her to where she is now, sitting on a bench after signing in for a session at a rock climbing gym. The connection between Yeonjun’s teasing, her attempt to defend herself, and sitting in a rock climbing gym? Yeonjun bet her that she couldn’t rock climb because she’s too weak (which she is) and she agreed to go rock climbing to prove him wrong (which she won’t be able to).

Basically, Kiryoung is definitely stressing out while sitting on this bench, not sure at all where she’s even supposed to start. She doubts she’ll even be able to do any of the courses or routes or whatever they’re called.

Someone sits down beside her as she’s worrying in her head, “This might be weird, but you look extremely familiar.”

Kiryoung looks to her left and sees a very pretty girl looking at her intently as if trying to piece together who she is. Kiryoung goes a little red in the face and shies away from the girl.

“You must have me mistaken for someone else,” Kiryoung says.

“No, I swear I’ve seen you before.”

The pretty girl doesn’t stop looking at her, beautiful round eyes continuing to search Kiryoung’s face even as she shrinks away from her. The girl gasps as realization crosses her features.

“Oh my god!” she exclaims. “You’re Kiryoung! From Tomorrow By Together! Oh my god, I loved your guys’ comeback.”

So that’s why this girl recognized Kiryoung.

“Thank you,” Kiryoung says, trying to make herself sound more confident as she seems to be interacting with a fan.

“Oh, I should introduce myself,” the girls says, “I’m Jeon Somi.”

Confidence levels are dropping dangerously low. This is not her fan, this is the nation’s girl group’s center, the first place winner of the first Produce series. How is she supposed to maintain any amount of confidence in her presence? Kiryoung really has no idea how she didn’t recognize the Jeon Somi but figures it must have something to do with being flustered by her sudden appearance and intense staring.

“Y-You’re Somi?”

“Mhm,” Somi hums her affirmation. “And you are Kiryoung, right? I just want to make sure...”

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. Imagine if you weren’t and I just accused some random person of being in an idol group. That would have been embarrassing.”

Somi has avoided her embarrassment, but Kiryoung can tell that hers has just started. She’s finding it extremely difficult to speak to the other girl, let alone look her in the eye. Curse you, social anxiety.

“Do you like rock climbing, too?” Somi asks.

“No.”

“Oh...”

“I-I mean I’ve never done it before. This is my first time.”

“Oh!” Somi looks much more pleased with that answer. “Do you want to do it with me? I can show you the ropes.”

Kiryoung looks around, confused, “What ropes? Do they have rope courses here, too?”

Somi bursts into laughter, “Oh my god, you’re hilarious.”

Kiryoung laughs with her nervously, realizing her mistake of taking an idiom too literally and hoping to play it off. Somi doesn’t seem to notice that she was being serious. If she does, she chooses not to say anything.

“Okay, okay,” Somi says, calming herself down. “Do you want me to show you how the gym works? I’ve been coming her for a while.”

“Um...”

Kiryoung weighs her options. On one hand, if she says no, she might come off as mean or rude and give a bad first impression to her senior artist. On the other hand, if she says yes, she’ll have to live through many more embarrassing and awkward moments and learn that she really isn’t physically cut out for rock climbing with an audience. Neither are very good options.

“Sure,” Kiryoung answers quietly, too scared to be rude right now in order to avoid embarrassment in the near future.

The very near future because, with Somi’s instruction, Kiryoung makes it about four handholds before she falls off the wall and lands flat on her back, unable to catch or right herself.

Somi jumps off the wall after her, “Woah, are you okay?”

Kiryoung sits up, “I don’t think I’m cut out for rock climbing.”

“You only just started,” Somi laughs. “Come on.”

Somi extends her hands to Kiryoung, offering her help to get up. Kiryoung hesitates for a second before accepting it, letting the taller girl pull her to her feet.

“Let’s try the easiest course,” Somi says, “I probably should have asked you what your skill level is before we started.”

Kiryoung switches her hand and footholds a few more times than during her first attempt before the shaking in her arms becomes too much and she has to let go. She’s higher up that she realized, landing on her feet but falling back onto her butt. She looks down and sighs.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Somi asks.

Kiryoung looks up and finds Somi crouching down beside her. She looks away shyly.

“I’m not very good at this,” Kiryoung says.

“Well, no one really is their first time unless they’re already muscly and stuff.”

Kiryoung sighs, “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I only came because I’m trying to prove to my members that I’m not weak. Even though I am. I’ve got noodle arms.”

Kiryoung wiggles her arms out in front of her to prove her point. Somi laughs and this time, Kiryoung can laugh easily with her. Somi falls back onto her bottom, sitting beside Kiryoung.

“So you’re trying to prove to your members that you’re not weak but none of them are even here to see if you succeed or fail?” Somi asks.

Kiryoung is silent for a long moment, the sounds of the gym filling the brief pause in the two girls’ conversation.

Kiryoung groans, “I’m so gullible.”

Somi bursts out into laughter again, falling to her side.

“Oh my god, I’m so stupid!” Kiryoung says. “I could have gone to a park and caught frogs instead of wasting my time with rock climbing!”

Somi just laughs harder. Kiryoung’s irritation at herself fades and she ends up laughing with Somi. Finally, it seems Kiryoung isn’t so nervous around the younger girl. Eventually, they collect themselves and stand.

“Well, we can keep trying if you really want to but my session time runs out in ten minutes anyway,” Somi says after checking the time, “So do you want to get lunch together?”

“Lunch? Together?”

“Yeah. We could talk more and get to know each other.”

“Um, yeah, okay. Let’s do that.”

After trading out her climbing shoes for her normal ones, Kiryoung waits for Somi at the front of the gym. It’s started raining harder since they started climbing but Kiryoung brought an umbrella, knowing the forecast for the day. She pulls her phone out and starts searching up nearby restaurants, not wanting to walk too far in the rain. Somi, back from the bathroom, stops beside Kiryoung.

“I’m kind of in the mood for ramen; are there any places nearby?” Somi asks.

“Uh, let me see... Yes. There’s a ramen place about three blocks that way.”

Kiryoung quickly memorizes the directions to the restaurant and tucks her phone away. They walk out of the gym and stand under the overhang. Kiryoung notices Somi isn’t carrying an umbrella or a rain jacket.

“Do you not have an umbrella?” Kiryoung asks.

“No, my dad dropped me off and I ran inside,” Somi explains. “I figured I could just dash from awning to awning.”

“We can just share mine,” Kiryoung says, opening her kiwi-patterned umbrella.

“You don’t mind sharing?” Somi asks.

Kiryoung shakes her head with a smile, “Not at all.”

Kiryoung holds her umbrella up a bit more so the taller girl can fit under it. Kiryoung feels her face grow warm with how close she is to Somi. They start walking, bumping into one another as they try to walk under the same umbrella.

“Here, let me just...”

Somi takes the umbrella from Kiryoung and pulls Kiryoung’s hand to loop through her arm. Kiryoung’s face gets hotter.

“Better?” Somi asks.

Kiryoung just nods.

They start off again, able to walk much more comfortably side by side now. Kiryoung tugs on Somi’s arm when they’re supposed to turn, leading the two of them silently. They eventually make it to the shelter of the ramen restaurant. Somi motions for Kiryoung to enter first, no overhang or awning making the transition inside without getting wet a little difficult. Somi stands halfway inside the restaurant as she closes Kiryoung’s umbrella, shaking it out before stepping inside fully.

“At least one of us was prepared,” Somi says, handing Kiryoung her umbrella back.

“You can go sit down; I’ll grab the ingredients from the bar,” Kiryoung tells her.

“Can I trust you not to poison me?” Somi asks.

“W-Why would I poison you?” Kiryoung stutters.

Somi smiles at her, “I’m teasing.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“You really are gullible,” Somi quips.

The taller girl walks off to find a table and Kiryoung goes to the bar where she picks out a two person serving of ramen, some onions and scallions and green onions, a bit of soy sauce, and four pot stickers. She pays and is given a pot of water, finding Somi and placing it all down.

“This looks fancy,” Somi says, “I usually just get the ready-made seasonings.”

“It’s a lot better if you season it yourself,” Kiryoung tells her, setting the pot of water on the table’s stove.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Once the water has started to heat up, Kiryoung starts to add her seasonings to make the broth. She glances at Somi at one point, noticing how the younger girl is watching what she’s doing intently. She looks back at what she’s doing, making sure not to mess anything up. When the broth is boiling, she adds the noodles and not too long after, the pot stickers. Kiryoung turns the heat off once it’s finished and moves the pot off the stove onto a hot pad.

“Alright,” she says. “You try it first.”

Somi breaks her chopsticks apart and picks up a few noodles. She transfers them onto her spoon with a bit of broth and blows on it. She looks at Kiryoung.

“Here’s to no poison,” she jokes.

Kiryoung giggles.

Somi eats the noddles and broth, face lighting up as she tastes it. Kiryoung feels her heart swell a bit as Somi looks pleased with her ramen. Somi swallows her first bite.

“I think I just fell in love with you,” she says.

Kiryoung giggles shyly again and waves her off, “It’s not a big deal.”

“No, it’s seriously so good,” Somi says, already getting another bite of noodles ready, “And food is the quickest way to my heart.”

Kiryoung smiles happily at her pot of ramen, breaking apart her own chopsticks to begin eating as well. They talk casually with one another, eating and learning about one another. Every so often, Kiryoung watches Somi’s face as she eats, always equally delighted to see Somi so pleased with her cooking.

“Yeah, all my members bully me,” Kiryoung says as she concludes her explanation of her relationship with her members.

“That’s so mean,” Somi says, “You’re like the sweetest person ever.”

“You just met me today.”

“My statement still stands; I am a wonderful judge of character.”

“And my character is sweet?”

“And gullible, a great cook, blunt, a little socially awkward.”

“Oh...”

“But you’re also caring and inquisitive. You’re curious about the world.”

Kiryoung smiles a little at Somi’s observations.

“You’re also super cute.”

Kiryoung blinks at Somi. Somi looks back at her.

Kiryoung shoves some noodles into her mouth to avoid any further awkward eye contact.

[captainsolare]

Concert

Fluffvember Day 7: Concert - Leopold Vermillion (f! reader) 

Summary: You're a classical violinist and tonight is your big debut at the Castle Town concert hall. Your long-time friend Leopold is in the audience, and he begins to see you in a whole new light after watching you achieve your biggest dream

Word Count: 1,825 

A/N: I’m probably a little biased because I am a classical violinist, but this was by far my favorite one to write so far this month! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. The Max Bruch Violin Concerto no. 1 partly inspired this so if you would like to, listen to the first movement. 

masterlist 

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You stood in the atrium of the concert hall, patrons, mostly upper crust and royalty, milling about and drinking before the event began. "Ugh Y/N, I don't know how you can stand going to these events. Everything is so stuffy, even the clothing." Your friend Leopold complained, pulling the collar of his dress shirt away from his neck. You rolled your eyes, at him lightly punching him in the arm, "Going to these events, is kind of my job you know. Plus, orchestra music isn't stuffy, you're just lame and have no taste." 

Leo was about to object but before he could do so a bell was rung and you had to dash off. "Sorry! That's my cue to go change, I'll see you after the concert okay?" You said apologetically, planting a chaste goodbye kiss on his cheek before disappearing into the crowd. The kiss was meant as a friendly gesture, nothing more, the two of you had grown up quite close after all, but nonetheless Leo was left standing there dumbstruck, hand lightly touching the place your lips had been a moment before. 

He gathered himself and entered the concert hall, heading for the Vermillion family box; he was a little nervous he had to admit, he was the sole Vermillion sibling here tonight and so a lot of eyes were on him. Fuegoleon was away on an important business matter and who knows where Mereoleona was, she usually couldn't be bothered to come to events like this, they were far too constricting for her wild nature. 

Even though Leo found these events stuffy, like most of his royal duties, he came tonight without much complaint because tonight would be the first time he would get to see you perform a concerto with an orchestra as large as this one. You had picked up the violin at an early age, and had been traveling the country playing at concert halls all over, but tonight would be your big debut on the Castle Town stage and Leo was excited. Not because he particularly enjoyed orchestral music like this, but because it was something you enjoyed.  Growing up, he had always admired the way your eyes sparkled as you talked about your dreams of someday playing on this stage, and here you were achieving the dream you had worked so hard for. 

The first piece was a long drawn out number that had him nearly falling asleep, Mimosa, his cousin, had to elbow him several times to keep him from snoring. He supposed he should have felt a bit sheepish, but you weren't onstage so he couldn't bring himself to care all that much. During intermission Mimosa turned to him excitedly, "Y/N is on next, isn't that so exciting?" He nodded, "Yeah! This is her big dream!" 

Intermission seemed to be over in a flash, the lights dimming and he waited with bated breath as the spotlight lit up the space you'd walk through shortly. When you appeared Leo felt his breath hitch, you were in a stunning turquoise dress, sparkling in the light that illuminated the stage. "Wow." Mimosa whispered, awestruck. He could only nod in agreement, the dress suited you perfectly, the perfect battle armor to conquer the stage tonight. 

When you'd told him about this concert a few weeks ago, it had taken everything in him not to launch himself across the table and wrap you up in a bear hug. Well, almost everything, despite him trying not to, he did it anyway, leaving you both grinning ear to ear and laughing with excitement.

The audience clapped and you shook hands with the conductor and the concertmaster then took up your post near the front of the stage. Leo remembered you mentioning that you were nervous about playing from memory, so he silently cheered you on, hoping you could hear him in your heart. 

As the timpani began playing, your eyes searched the audience, your hands were sweaty and your heart was pounding, you couldn't see the audience very well because of the spotlights but you knew there was a familiar head of red hair out in the crowd and that gave you comfort. The flutes and woodwinds came in next and you prepared to come in with your cadenza. 

From the second your first note reached his ears, to the second your last chord echoed through the hall Leo simply found himself unable to take his eyes off of you. Your notes were spellbinding, taking his breath away and telling a story with just sound, it was a language unlike any he had heard before. He had always admired you, your strength of character, your sense of humor, your honesty, brutal at times but that's definitely when he needed to hear it the most; but tonight, something tugged at his heartstrings and was rooting in his brain, and suddenly he saw you in a whole new light. 

When the concerto ended you were a panting mess, any trace of nervousness had evaporated as you reached the end, a beaming smile appeared on your face as you bowed, the roar of applause filling your ears. From somewhere in the crowd you heard a distinct whistle and you had to contain your laughter, that was definitely Leo. I guess he liked it then? That's fantastic!  You probably wouldn't admit this to anyone, but when you got up on this stage tonight you didn't care about all the opinions of the various noble folk and royalty that had attended, if you were being honest the most important, and perhaps the only opinion that mattered to you was Leopold's. 

You made your way to the atrium because you had to accept your congratulations from the audience members in person, it was simply good practice. Several people congratulated you, others noted that you played well even though you were not royalty, you took each comment with grace and a smile, praying that you'd be able to go home soon and celebrate as you wished to; perhaps with a long soak in the bath to ease your aching muscles.

 Leo and Mimosa appeared in the atrium, eyes scanning the room for a sign of you; Mimosa couldn't help but be amused by the way you both perked up as you caught sight of one another. Ahh, young love. She mused, then giggled to herself, who am I kidding? I'm young too. 

Leo made a beeline for you as soon as your current conversation ended and grabbed your hands with excitement. "Oh Y/N, that was so amazing, I could just kiss you right now!" He said, practically buzzing with energy. You deadpanned and he was about to pull away, but rather than pulling away as well you said, "Kiss me then." It was almost a challenge, and Leo backed down from it, suddenly hyper-aware of all the people watching you; he lost his nerve and decided to change the subject. 

"Do you--- do you need someone to come with you? To help carry your things?" He asked, nervous about even this small interaction for some reason. Mentally he kicked himself, usually, conversation was so easy with you, but now he was just a bumbling mess. Your face fell into a smile, "That would be lovely Leo." You led the way to the green room and greeted the other performers, thanking them for a job well done. As you packed your things, Leo couldn't help but notice the slight frown that twisted your features. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly. When you nodded he dropped the subject, opting instead to carry your things as he had promised. 

The atrium was empty when you emerged from the green room, and you found yourself in awkward silence with Leo. Secretly, you were disappointed that he hadn't taken you up on your challenge earlier and you didn't know how to feel about it. Do I really have feelings for him? Leo's thoughts seemed to be on the same track as yours as you exited the building into the night air.

 "Did you mean it?" "Mean what?" You asked, turning to face him; in an attempt to not misconstrue things you weren't going to answer unless he asked you exactly what was on his mind. A blush graced Leo's features and his heart was pounding in his head, "Did you actually want me to kiss you back there?" 

You tilted your head, trying to sort through your emotions so you could give him a straight answer. "I think so. I'm not really sure, I just, I said that without thinking and I'm not sure of what exactly I'm feeling right now." Leo gulped, trying to gather up the courage for his next question, "Do you… do you still want me to?" 

Your heart pounded in your chest as you nodded, eyes not leaving your friend for a second as he carefully set your things on the ground next to him. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and awkwardly grabbed your arms as he leaned in, the kiss was short and sweet, but it left you with an unsatisfied feeling and solidified in your mind that you did, in fact, want to kiss him. In fact, you wanted to kiss his stupid face again and again. 

Leo looked away awkwardly, wanting to kiss you again but not sure how to ask. Luckily he didn't have to, as you grabbed his shirt and pulled him in closer to you. "Do you want me to?" You asked breathlessly, you were so close you could feel each other's breaths on your lips. When he nodded you didn't hesitate, slamming your lips into his. 

Mimosa appeared from out of the concert hall, a mixture of wanting to roll her eyes and cheer seeping into her expression. "Took you guys long enough." She said, hands on her hips and looking away; she was happy for you both but the last thing she wanted to watch was your makeout session. 

The two of you jumped and pulled apart quickly at her sudden interjection. "What do you mean, took us long enough?" You asked, a little sheepish at the implication that she had known your feelings long before you had. "Don't worry about it. Want to go get some ice cream or something to go celebrate your big night?" You and Leo exchanged a glance, "Absolutely!" Mimosa led the way to the nearby ice cream shop, you and Leo trailing a little ways behind. 

"Was tonight exactly how you dreamed it would be?" He asked as you walked hand in hand. You shook your head and smiled at him, glancing at your intertwined hands, "Nope, it was even better." 

"Hurry up or I'll eat without you!" Mimosa yelled, interrupting your moment for a second time that night. You both chuckled and sped up to meet her at the door, filled with the feeling of a new chapter beginning.